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persephonescabin · 4 days ago

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The Perfect Teacher

Summary: Late one night, Emmrich stumbles upon Rook giving Manfred dancing lessons in the library, coming to the startling realisation that he might have feelings for her. And boy oh boy, does Emmrich fall hard and fast...

You can find it on AO3 too!

BTW! I'm open to receiving any/all prompts on Emmrich aka Bone Daddy, so please send away! xx

(Image via pictureamoebae)

After a rather exhausting day of cleansing blight from the streets of Treviso, Professor Emmrich Volkarin was relieved to finally be back in his quarters and have the evening to himself.

It had been seemingly never-ending, its pools of corruption sprouting up like a plague, not to mention the dreadful legions of Darkspawn that crawled around every corner. Rook, Lucanis and Emmrich were only able to destroy a portion of the growth that day, the mere thought of how much more was consuming the city was enough to give Emmrich consecutive nightmares.

Once he had his nightly bath, donned a fresh set of clothing, and partook in some tea and refreshments, Emmrich was content to cozy up in his red leather chair by the fireplace and begin a new book. Courtesy of Bellara, the rather interesting work was a title he was not acquainted with: By Way of the Fade.

Since the team’s inaugural book club, Emmrich was keen on reading more than the allocated novels, curious as to what other narratives he had yet to discover. It was his own personal fact-finding mission, purely for experimentation, gaining more insight into the world outside of Nevarra through these novellas.

Emmrich naturally knew all the classics, had read and re-read the entirety of Thedas’ greatest tragedies and its grandest adventures, but was unfortunately a bit out of touch when it came to the latest trends. That realisation alone caused a new wave of dread to wash over him. However, seeing Bellara’s passion for storytelling, and her eagerness to start the book club in the first place, temporarily put Emmrich’s aging heart at ease.

Shortly after discussing The Hallowed Halls with the group, he had discreetly asked Bellara if she had any more recommendations. In a burst of excitement, she sprinted back to her room, returning with a massive pile of her favourite novels and serials. In the end, Bellara made not one, but three trips; stumbling back and forth as she struggled to balance the volumes, eventually lining them up neatly by his desk.

These weren’t normally the types of titles he’d pick up on his leisure. In his youth he most certainly would’ve been inclined to indulge himself in these risqué romances or elaborate espionage thrillers, but now, his motivations were directed elsewhere. To his duties in the Mourn Watch, to fighting the Evanuris, and to his eventual, Lichdom.

But alas, it was a nice change of pace. It had only been a few weeks since his arrival at the Lighthouse, and he was already accustomed to this lifestyle, his new acquaintances, and the plethora of adventures he’s had so far. Quite the difference from his days writing papers and teaching in the Necropolis, where he was more than content to just keep drowning in his work.

Though he could do with less blight, and Darkspawn for that matter. The amount of washing he’s had to do to rid his ensembles of blood stains and dirt and..! Oh, but he shant complain, he was happy to have been chosen and included in something worthwhile.

Time passed quickly as Emmrich read, and soon he had reached the final page. He closed the book with a contented sigh, placing it carefully on his lap. He let his mind wander as he watched the fireplace, mesmerised by the flames dancing as he digested the remnants of the story.

Despite what the title suggested, By Way of the Fade barely broached the topic of the Fade itself, which was a massive upset to Emmrich. It was another romance that focused on love enduring through the ages, even moving beyond death itself.

Emmrich bowed his head in agreement to that sentiment, his thoughts briefly flickering to his parents, before moving on to the rest of the book. The plot was rife with political turmoil, not to mention an unexpected murder and shoddy third act. In Emmrich’s opinion, the less faff the better, and perhaps not such a misleading title would have made him give it a higher rating.

He made a mental note to speak with Bellara about the ending in the morning as he rose from the chair, stifling a yawn.

The hour was growing late, too late in fact, encroaching into his sleep schedule. As a man of routine, he seldom liked when he lost track of time, but some things just couldn’t be helped, especially when his hobbies were concerned.

Emmrich reached for the cup from the table beside him, surprised by how weightless it felt in his fingers. Empty. He moved to the teapot, opening the lid only to find it was also devoid of any beverage.

He hummed in disapproval, searching his room for any sign of Manfred. His companion should’ve been back ages ago to deliver the final tea of the evening. Manfred’s behavior had been changing noticeably as of late, instances of misbehaving or breaking an established rule; whether it was purposely or by accident, Emmrich would have to investigate further.

The sound of raucous laughter trickled in from outside, stealing Emmrich from his thoughts. He raised an eyebrow, both in confusion and utter vexation as he wondered who could possibly be making such a racket? And at this hour? Had they no decency for the others?

Emmrich fetched his favourite burgundy dressing gown and proceeded towards his door, quietly exiting his quarters as he let the growing curiosity lead the way. He crept towards the balcony overlooking the library, half expecting to find Taash and Harding giggling incessantly once again or perhaps this time it was Bellara and Neve, engaging in another heated gossip session.

As he carefully peeked his head over the railing, he caught his breath. Simultaneously Emmrich’s mouth fell agape and his eyes grew impossibly wide at the sight below him.

Rook was dancing with Manfred, or rather, she was teaching him how to move accordingly. The pair were alone in the library, the table shoved back against the bookshelves to allow more room. A music box sat on its surface, a nostalgic tune, a classical rendition of a Nevarran folk song, resonated through the library.

For an Elf, Rook was tall in stature, and Manfred just about came up to her shoulders. Despite her muscular frame, she led him with expertise, moving with an air of grace and tranquility as she went over the steps with him.

The music came to an end as Rook paused her movements, patting Manfred on the top of the head. He hissed back in excitement, jumping up and down and pointing towards the music box. Rook let out another boisterous laugh.

“Okay, okay… we’ll do it one more time. Remember Manfred…” Rook started, breaking away and standing across from him. “How do we begin?”

Manfred stared back at her with a blank expression, tilting his head as he thought long and hard. Rook watched him expectantly, clasping her hands together as she waited for an answer. After a moment or two in silence, she smiled warmly and flicked her wrist. Her fingertips illuminated, purple bursts of magic filling the air around them as she used a spell to rewind the music box. The same melody began again and Rook took a step forward.

“You bow… and I courtesy.”

Manfred hissed happily and bowed, perhaps too deep, his head nearly reaching his feet. Emmrich couldn’t help but beam like a proud father at the sight, although he would need to show Manfred how it’s properly done later. Rook curtsied in return, proceeding to extend her hand as Manfred reached for it.

“Now we move this way…” The two began walking in a straight line, their hands still joined. Rook took single sweeping movements, bouncing on her toes every other step as she moved forward.

“One, two, three… one, two, three…”

Manfred attempted to copy Rook but his movements were clumsy and off tempo, his bones rattling to each step.

“You’ll get there, Manfred. Now… the tricky bit.”

Rook twirled to face Manfred, causing him to blurt out another enthusiastic hiss. She held both of his hands up in front of her as she guided him in a new direction. She took a balletic step and hopped with one foot, repeating the motion swiftly and lightly.

“We step… and hop, step… and yes! Hop!”

Manfred was lagging behind Rook’s movements and instead of taking steps, he sprang along with her like a giddy rabbit. Rook chortled, trying her best to keep it together while continuing the dance. Manfred, oblivious to his errors, hissed with an amount of happiness that surpassed any level Emmrich had heard come from him before.

Emmrich gripped the railing as a memory suddenly floated to the surface. Images of him standing at the threshold of his parent’s kitchen, watching them dancing in a similar fashion, so full of love and adoration for each other. Another image of his mother pulling Emmrich into the dance, teaching him the steps with care, the three of them, a family, fumbling together, laughing hysterically, so much merriness, warmth... Emmrich’s heart swelled as he relished in this echo from the past, a lump forming in his throat.

He felt pulled towards Rook, moving down the steps as if in a trance. He was unable to peel his eyes away from how she presented herself around Manfred, without judgment, with unadulterated patience. Rook was the epitome of elegance as an instructor, a side he never thought he’d see from their fearless leader.

“Yes, good Manfred!” Rook remarked, keeping Manfred’s arms raised as they twisted and turned under each other, and then again. They followed this same motion, twirling around the floor.

Emmrich reached the bottom of the staircase just as the music came to an end, watching as they eventually stopped dancing, Rook’s back now facing him.

“It’s not perfect yet, but we’ll get there with more practice.” Rook exclaimed, giving Manfred a passionate high five. “I promise.”

Emmrich straightened his shoulders just a little more than usual, pulling at his dressing gown as he prepared to take a step forward.

“If you would allow me…” Emmrich began.

Rook spun around, a tinge of shock painting her visage if only for a split second, before it was replaced with a smile. Emmrich reached towards the music box on the table, manually rewinding it.

“It will do Manfred some good to observe how it’s done. I’ve found he learns most effectively when led with concrete demonstrations…” Emmrich bowed, extending his hand in an invitation. Rook curtsied and readily accepted.

The music started slowly, and so did their movements. Emmrich delicately held Rook’s hand as they strode in sync to each other, matching every swing of the foot and light hop with an exact precision. They went through the choreography, coming face-to-face as they twisted and turned under each other, spinning in a small circle, just as Rook had shown Manfred a short time ago.

This wasn’t the whole waltz, there were still leagues more that Rook hadn’t taught his companion. Nevertheless, Emmrich decided they would continue through the rest of the motions and finish the dance in its entirety, as it was intended. And he so desperately, selfishly, wanted to test Rook’s skills, see if there was more to what he had just witnessed.

Rook followed along effortlessly. With each step, each twirl, they moved closer to each other, until Emmrich placed one of his hands on Rook’s waist, the other interlocked with hers. It was at that instant Emmrich glanced at Rook’s face, for the whole dance he had been too focused on each step, how they moved together, complemented each other's gestures to truly see the woman before him.

Rook’s eyes, which were always supported by that infamous hard stare, a characteristic he found to be quite endearing, albeit terrifying; were softer and glittering as they stared at him. Her lips, consistently pursed and ready to chuck an insult at anyone she thought deserved it, were parted slightly, the sides curving into a sly smile.

It took a moment to register her expressions, and he nearly stumbled while they continued the choreography, moving about in circles. Panic surged through his body like a jolt of electricity, his ears burning. He wanted to look away, to hide himself from that stare which stripped him of all his defenses. But he was mesmerised, caught in an unexpected trap.

Emmrich took this opportunity, at this newfound affinity between them, to savour her beauty. Rook’s short plum coloured hair, an asymmetrical cut, fit her sharp jawline exquisitely. Her complexion was hardened with years spent on the battlefield, faded scars across her weathered cheeks, but she was striking all the same. He caught himself wondering what other scars lay undiscovered beneath the surface of her clothing, if he would ever get a chance to see them, to touch them… he bit his tongue, out of habit, to keep these illicit thoughts at bay.

This was the closest he’d ever been to Rook, a type of intimacy he hadn’t known for over a decade. As he held her closer, the smell of her soft perfume wafted up from her neck. He breathed it in as they twirled, as they stepped, hopped, and twirled again. Warm and spicy, scents of vanilla, perhaps… yes, a floral scent, a familiar one that he couldn’t place…

When Emmrich was first introduced to Rook, he was charmed by her youthfulness and the commanding presence that followed her into every room. Perhaps he was even slightly intimidated by her tenacity, bluntness, and that peculiar sense of humour. Despite some of the rather vulgar swears thrown about on their excursions, words he hoped Manfred would never hear, it did make him smile.

Rook’s flirting, with him and the other companions, did not go unnoticed either. Emmrich never missed one of Rook’s saucy exchanges with Neve, her heated glances towards Davrin, or even the abnormal amount of time she spent with Lucanis.

So, as one might expect, Emmrich was taken aback by Rook’s flirtatious nature towards him. The time for romance was over for Emmrich, or so he thought, now in his seniority, there was barely enough time left for teaching Manfred all he had to know, let alone all of his upcoming plans for Lichdom.

He initially believed Rook was just being polite, her way of making him feel part of the team. He took it in stride, relishing in the thrill of being noticed, pocketing the compliments, the cheeky banter, and nothing more. But it didn’t end there. He felt her eyes on him whenever he entered a room, how she leaned in closer as he spoke, showered him with coy smiles, and often came into his quarters to solely strike up a random conversation.

Then there was the matter of the previous night in the Memorial Gardens, Rook’s words on how impressed she was with his informal tea arrangement still nagging at the back of his mind.

Emmrich’s chest tightened, a foreign sensation compared to his usual bouts of existential dread. A warmth pooled from the pits of his heart, surging through his being as it travelled all the way to his fingertips.

It was only when Manfred joyfully hissed, his hands waving about in the air that Emmrich realised the music had ended. Emmrich and Rook came to a stop in silence, their lips dangerously close, a mere hair’s breadth from kissing. They stood there for nearly a minute, unmoving.

“You OK, Emmrich?” Rook whispered at last, her amber eyes still glittering.

Emmrich attempted to respond, but found his lips dry, his tongue latching to the top of his mouth. Manfred intervened, approaching the two and pointing at Emmrich as he hissed in a range of octaves.

Emmrich stiffened at Manfred’s statement, looking at him in denial as he instantly pulled away from Rook. Manfred hissed again, clapping furiously. Emmrich brought his hands to his cheeks to hide the fact that they were on fire, convinced his skin would melt away at any second.

“I…” He cleared his throat, “If I may be honest, Rook. I have not danced like this in quite some time.”

Rook took a step towards Emmrich and he backed away. She was looking at him intensely, eyes locked, pupils dilated, as if she was possessed by a greater being and ready to devour him whole. He could only stare back at her, his heart pounding so fast he was convinced it would wake the entire Lighthouse.

Manfred hissed again.

“Manfred, please!”

Rook laughed, that sly grin he’s grown to admire returning to her lips.

“C’mon then, what's he saying?”

Emmrich huffed in defeat, putting his hands behind his back as he squeezed his fingers together.

“What Manfred wishes to say… is that we make quite the couple, apparently.”

Rook burst out laughing, Emmrich promptly joining in, delighting in the ridiculousness of the entire situation. She grabbed hold of Emmrich’s arm and nearly fell towards him in a fit of giggles and he froze, the heat from her touch becoming the focal point of his entire body. He was terrified of moving, for fear of losing control, of what might become of him if he met her lips against his. It was that unseen force again, binding them closer… tempting him to kiss her… if only to see how it felt, how she tasted on his lips…

He cringed at the thought, bringing him back down to earth.

“Say, Emmrich, isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“I beg your pardon!”

It was her turn to blush.

“I just… I never see you this time of night. It’s mostly Manfred wandering about. You’ll be surprised what he gets up to after hours… he’s quite the card player, you know. Isn’t that right, Manfred?”

“I assure you, Manfred most certainly does not –”

Emmrich glanced towards Manfred and his jaw dropped to the floor for the second time that evening. Manfred’s expression might be unreadable to some but Emmrich could see right through him; that slight tilt of the head, the shift of the shoulders, enough to know it was true. Is that what Manfred gets up to when he’s asleep?

“If you must insist, Rook, I was engrossed in a new book.”

“Oh?”

“A story I found to be quite intriguing, if not a bit imperfect. Focusing on a couple…”

As Emmrich nearly began to describe the intricate plot points of the romance novel, he paused, noticing Rook was giving him that look again. The one where she was digging through the fragility of his armour, stripping him bare, piece by piece…

“...of interesting developments in my research of the Fade.”

Rook nodded in disappointment, that mischevious look in her eyes fading, and Emmrich let out a small sigh of relief.

“Ah, well…” Rook stretched her arms out wide as she walked towards the stairs, “I think it’s time for me to get some sleep anyways.”

“A wise decision, after such a tiring morning.”

“Mhmm, this was fun though.”

Rook stopped, turning back to Emmrich as they shared a final lingering look.

“Indeed,” Emmrich responded, with a bow.

He could only watch as Rook ascended the stairs, walking further away from him and eventually disappearing into her room. His heart sank when she was gone, from the thundering absence she left in her wake.

Emmrich eventually turned to Manfred, shaking his head.

“Manfred, perhaps in our next lesson we’ll focus on the traits of decorum.”

Manfred nodded, hissing in anticipation.

“But first, you owe me some tea, do you not?”

Manfred jumped and nodded again, running towards the library entrance.

Emmrich remained as Manfred made his start to the kitchen. He stared curiously up at Rook’s room, the scent of her still strong in his memory.

That floral auroma…

Emmrich’s eyebrows raised at the flash of recognition, alas.

“Jasmine…” he whispered, nodding, content with himself and her chosen blend of perfume.

What a curious development.

Emmrich walked out of the library, a slight pep in his step as he contemplated how he might begin his advancements.

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