Lukaer was keeping an eye on his brothers. This was nothing new, of course. But it had been a long time since he had more than one under his gaze at once. Meeting Constans out in the wilderness had been a shock, to say the least. Lukaer hadn’t had much expectation to see his brother again; especially not after word had reached him about his... punishment. It had seemed unthinkable that they would allow someone so obviously vulnerable out in the world. (Never mind the fact that Luka knew there were Tranquil in Denerim, at least.) The most they could hope for way that Desi would keep himself out of trouble and would one day be able to report back to the family about Constans. To see him again after so long and after coming to such a strong conclusion that it was doubtful they would never see him again was... strange, to say the least.
Ever time he looked at his brother, his mind spun. He saw the young boy that Constans had been, the young man they had expected him to grow into and the Tranquil all at once. Every time he attempted to speak to his brother, Lukaer expected him to be like he was, not this empty shell. Every time it was a new shock that twisted Luka’s heart and reminded him of his failure to protect his brother, something he had sworn to do at all costs. Oh he knew that Constans’ actions were his own and that he had chosen his own path that had led him to this state, but Lukaer still was sure that there must have been something he could have done to prevent this. At the very least, he shouldn’t have allowed his two younger brothers to be taken from them.
This train of through rolled through his mind every single time he looked at his brother. Like now, as he turned his gaze away from the drink in front of him to see Constans coming down the stairs, looking as blank as ever. He watched as his brother decided to take it upon himself to clean up the dirty tavern, something that was so entirely out of character for what Luka knew about his brother that he almost said something. The blank look on Constans’ face reminded, quickly enough, just why that seemed so strange. He muttered a few choice words under his breath, directed at himself, Constans and the entire stupid web of Chantry followers that had gotten them in this situation.
Lukaer was watching when the drunks confronted Constans. When they hit him, he was immediately on his feet. Then Constans hit back and it all went to hell. “Maker’s balls,” he swore vehemently, pushing through the throng to get to his brother. Luka grabbed him by the collar and forcibly drew Constans away from the fighting. He knew that once the other drunks got involved (and they quickly did), most would forget just who had started the fight in the first place. He elbowed a man in the stomach when he tried to stop him. “Rhocanth!” he called, hearing the young dwarf call out for Constans, though it was hard to see him through the press of bodies. Lukaer readjusted his hold on Constans, gripping his arm now, instead of his collar, as though his brother was six years old again and misbehaving. He drew them out near the bar, away from the fighting and called for Rhocanth again.