Chapter Text
"The trial is scheduled for eight weeks from now. We're coordinating with authorities in Minrathous and Orzammar — this case crosses a lot of borders."
Outside the car window, the sprawling cityscape of Nevarra City gave way to unassuming suburban neighborhoods. The massive statues and mausoleums faded in the distance, replaced by smaller cemeteries and memorial parks. The car turned down one side street and then another before finally pulling into the front gates of an older, brick-lined apartment complex.
"Dr. Ingellvar?"
Astrid returned her attention to Maevaris Tilani, the Special Prosecutor from Minrathous who had been brought in for this case.
"Sorry," Astrid replied softly. "I understand." Maevaris nodded.
"Neve's investigation has given us substantial evidence, but your testimony is crucial. You're the only eyewitness who can connect the Carta to the Venatori funding." Maevaris paused, her voice softening. "And the death of Dr. Felhausen. I know the last few weeks have been frightening. The break-in, the threats — we're taking them seriously. That's why we've arranged this protection."
Maevaris' assessment wasn't an overstatement. Astrid's work had been placed on hold and her entire life had been reduced down to what she could fit in a single suitcase. All because she had seen something she shouldn't have.
"The man you're about to meet, Lucanis Dellamorte — he's the best. The Crows have a... reputation, but Emmrich Volkarin vouched for him personally." That was said by Neve Gallus, the lead investigator on the case and current driver of the car transporting Astrid to the safehouse she would be staying in until the trial. "And Lucanis and I have crossed paths before — on the same side, thankfully. He's good at his job."
The car came to a halt, and Astrid waited for Maevaris and Neve to come around and open the door before she stepped out. She rolled her suitcase behind her as they led her to a nearby apartment door. Neve mumbled something Astrid didn't catch — a codeword of some kind, perhaps — and then the door opened. Astrid was ushered inside and up a flight of stairs before she even had the chance to greet the man she'd be living with for the next two months.
Two months. The thought settled in her chest like a stone.
The man was already moving toward them, hand extended — not in greeting, but to take her suitcase. "Dr. Ingellvar." His voice was low, the accent softening the edges of her name into something almost unfamiliar. "I'll take that."
Astrid's fingers tightened on the handle before she could stop herself. She forced them to relax, let him take the weight of it. He set the case by the door with practiced efficiency, then turned back to Maevaris and Neve.
"Everything's secure," he said. "I've done a full sweep. No signs of surveillance."
Maevaris nodded. "Thank you, Señor Dellamorte. Dr. Ingellvar, this is Lucanis Dellamorte. He'll be—"
"Keeping you alive," Lucanis finished, his gaze finally landing on Astrid fully. Dark eyes, assessing. Not unkind, but not warm either. Professional. "For the next eight weeks."
There it was again. Eight weeks. Two months. A complete pause in her life, as if she were being plucked out of time, placed in a glass case, until she was needed again. Astrid nodded, a bit numb by now.
"I'll give you a call in about a week to see how you're settling in," Maevaris was saying. "And then with any updates as the case proceeds." Her hand touched Astrid's shoulder — a gesture meant to be reassuring, but that Astrid hardly registered. "You're in safe hands."
And then, before Astrid felt she had even blinked, Maevaris and Neve were gone. She was alone with Lucanis Dellamorte — a stranger still standing next to her suitcase as if he'd been waiting to see what she would do next.
"I'll show you to your room," he said, taking her suitcase by the handle and heading down the hall. Astrid followed after him, and he opened the door on the left. "Your bedroom is here. Bathroom's shared." He gestured to the cracked door at the end of the hall. She could only assume that the door across from hers led to his bedroom. "Kitchen's stocked." Lucanis set her suitcase just inside her bedroom door.
The bedroom itself was a comfortable size, with a full bed and a dresser. A single window provided natural light, filtered through the blinds. On the opposite corner of the room, the door to the closet stood open. All in all, it wasn't unlike a hotel bedroom, right down to the neutral cream-colored bedding. The carpet was thin under her shoes, the kind that shows every footprint. Astrid returned to the living room—really only a few paces from the bedroom — and sat on the edge of the couch because she didn't know what else to do. It was a simple thing, clearly from some major flat-pack store, with cushions that barely gave under her weight.
"I imagine there are rules," she said. It was the only thing she could get herself to focus on now. Laying the groundwork for what would be her life for the next eight weeks.
Lucanis nodded. "Fairly straightforward ones," he replied. "Don't open the windows. Don't answer the door. Your phone should already be with Neve's department as evidence and to prevent you from being traced." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a standard flip phone, and handed it to Astrid. "For emergencies only. It has my number programmed into it, in case we are ever separated."
"Is that likely?"
"No. But I don't take chances." Astrid put the phone in her pocket. "You won't have any contact outside this apartment — no phone calls, no texts, no emails or internet access."
Like a prisoner.
It was somewhat unfair, Astrid recognized, to make the comparison. Lucanis was here to protect her. It wasn't his fault that protection often looked like restriction. But knowing that did not make the stone in her gut any easier to stomach.
"I understand," she said instead, and Lucanis nodded, seemingly pleased with her practicality.
"Good." He glanced toward the kitchen, then back at her. "Have you eaten?"
The question caught her off-guard. Astrid tried to remember — had there been food at some point today? Maevaris had offered something in the car, maybe, or was that yesterday? The hours had blurred together.
"I don't... I'm not sure," she admitted. Something shifted in his expression — not quite sympathy, but a recognition of some kind.
"I'll make something. You should eat."
It wasn't a suggestion.
He moved toward the small kitchen with the same efficiency he'd shown taking her suitcase, opening cabinets and pulling out a pan to place on the electric stove top. A chef's knife and cutting board came next, set on the counter beside the stove while Lucanis reached for the refrigerator door.
Astrid watched him work for a moment — the way his hands moved with precision, the quiet competence of someone who didn't need to think about what he was doing. It should have been comforting. Instead, it made her feel more out of place.
"I should unpack," she said, standing.
Lucanis glanced over his shoulder, gave a single nod. "Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes."
Dinner. As if this were normal. As if she hadn't just had her entire life stripped away and deposited in a strange apartment.
Astrid retreated to her bedroom and closed the door behind her. For a moment she just stood there, her back against the door and her eyes closed as she simply focused on breathing. She could still hear Lucanis in the kitchen — a wooden spoon scraping the pan as the scent of garlic spread even through the door. Her entire life had changed in a handful of weeks — going from a field researcher to the key witness in a murder and smuggling investigation with some of the biggest players in the criminal underworld.
All because she had worked late one night cataloguing artifacts.
A sharp, but gentle, knock at the door startled her, and she realized with a jolt that she had just been staring at the empty bed. Her suitcase was still on the floor. Her twenty minutes was up. Astrid scrubbed her hands over her face, took a deep breath, and opened the bedroom door.