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skytheundying · 1 month ago

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Lich

In another timeline, Emmrich has different conversations and moments with his beloved Agi that lead him to lichdom. SFW.

All but the fourth section are from Emmrich's POV. The fourth section is from Agi's POV.

The battle with the Formless One had been difficult with Agnes using her ultimate to finally end its possession of a high dragon corpse, banishing it to the Fade.

“The Watchers will make note of the date.” Emmrich said with a nod, his gaze finding his lover as it so often does. I cannot resist her, my sweetheart. She occupies my waking thoughts, my dreams, everything. I live and breathe for you, Agnes darling.

Hobbling towards him, the younger mage winced. “I think I turned my ankle…a few times.”

He immediately offered his arm and said softly, “Lean on me, dear. I’ve got you.”

If I ascend to lichdom, then I shall always have you. Always be by your side.

But you won’t…

Holding his arm, she smiled despite the pain. My poor, poor girl. “I know, love.” Her brown eyes then widened as they began the walk to the eluvian. Lucanis charged ahead. Perhaps Spite’s discomfort was too much. Poor man. “Oh hey, so if you become a lich, then in a thousand years when the Formless One returns, you could send his dumb ass back to the Fade again. Huh, that’s something!” Her laugh. Her laugh is the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard.

He nodded, chest puffing slightly with pride. Yes. Yes, you understand. Good girl, Agi. Good girl. “Indeed, darling. It is as I explained in the Memorial Gardens, to be of use past my allotted years…to serve and keep what I hold dear safe from threats known and unknown…it is a great honor and privilege. One I hope I am worthy of, should I choose that path.”

I’ll never die.

Well, I will and then I won’t ever have to worry about my mortality again.

“You’ll…you’ll remember me, right? In a thousand years?” Her voice was soft, uncertain.

Emmrich stopped and kissed her soundly, his free hand cupping her cheek. Warm. Soft. Perfect in every single way. I could never forget, dearest heart. “Of course,” he murmured when he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. “Of course I will. How could I forget you? How could I ever forget my darling girl?”

A thoughtful sound emerged from her as she smiled. “A thousand years is a long time, love.”

His lips found hers in a gentle kiss. “A thousand. A million. It doesn’t matter, my dear. Do you know why?” She shook her head, and he kissed the tip of her nose. “Because our love is eternal. Everlasting.”

You’ve already touched my life in the most magnificent of ways. Your mark is upon me, and I bear it with pride, my love.

“You’re the sweetest.” She said, then winced. “Okay, let’s focus on getting to the eluvian.”

He cleared his throat, nodding. “Yes. Of course, darling.”

Don’t fear, dearest heart. I will never, ever forget you.

***

With Luci Aldwir visiting the Lighthouse, Emmrich and the others resolved to leave Agnes and her mother alone for the afternoon. She misses her mother dearly and wishes Luci would evacuate from Ferelden. “Mum’s as stubborn as I am, love.”

On his way back to the library after having quite the conversation with Bellara, he overheard voices from his lady’s room.

“Agi, that is the most insane thing I’ve ever heard you say. And I’ve heard you tell me you’re in charge of saving the world.”

Ah, but when one delves deeper, it makes perfect sense that she is our leader. What bravery! What grace! What intelligence! What magical skill!

“Okay, but hear me out.” Oh dear. “What if I could use my magic and like my love for Emmrich to ensure I’m reborn as myself…mostly…in my next lives? I’m a powerful mage, Mum. I’ve done some amazing shit.” Accurate on all counts, my darling. “I firmly believe love is the most powerful magic there is. Love can work miracles. Love can save lives. And with the love I have for him, I keep my promise to his parents---he’ll never be alone.” She laughed. “Of course, that’s all moot if he stays mortal.”

“Honestly, sweetie. This all sounds so complicated.”

“I mean, it is. For sure. It’s also very weird! But I love him, and it’s his dream. I don’t want to stand in his way.”

That’s not true, and you know it! You only encourage me to go forward. Forward into new adventures, horizons, love…

“Emmrich’s as sweet as you are, Agi. He doesn’t think that.”

Currently, Emmrich was silently weeping and slipped into his library, closing the door. He sat heavily in his wing-back chair, throwing his head back.

Oh, my love.

You would attempt the impossible…for me…

“Happy with someone who cares for you.”

That’s what you said.

And you mean it. You truly mean it.

I’m so lucky…

***

Emmrich Volkarin was supremely grateful for his beloved Agnes.

She’s brave. Brilliant.

And cooked me all my favorite dishes before I hopefully ascend to lichdom.

“Emm, you can never eat again, so enjoy yourself!”

Goodness me, did I!

“I cannot thank you enough, my dear. You made quite the feast for me.” He said languidly, in bed laying on his back, a ringless hand on his bare abdomen. She insisted. “I want to see your sexy chest hair and tummy one last time!” Oh my darling…

She grinned as she chewed a forkful of his mother’s Nevarran hazelnut torte. Once she swallowed, she bent to kiss his forehead. “Anything for my future lich lord!” Agnes blinked. “Wait, does that mean I’ll be a lady if you’re a lich lord?”

He chuckled. “I could ask. Is that something you desire, dearest?”

Shrugging, she picked at her slice of torte. “Not sure. I’m…unsure of a lot. You know, after tomorrow.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “I have a recurring dream where you’re a lich and decide I’m not…” When she opened her eyes, they were brimming with unshed tears. “I won’t be enough…when you…”

Moving rapidly to sit up despite my fullness, he immediately gathered her in his arms, pressing kisses to her cheek. “You are everything I’ve ever dreamt of. Do you know that? Have I not made it abundantly clear that you, my darling girl, are everything to me?” He kissed away her tears, now falling freely. “You are enough. You will always be enough.”

Her mouth opened slightly as she gently guided him to lay down again and then straddled his narrow hips. “Show me, Emmrich.”

Your wish is my command, my darling…

***

Okay. This is fine. This is normal.

The love of my life is going to go through a ritual that will kill him and turn him undead.

It’s fine.

Agnes fidgeted next to Emmrich. “What’s this lichdom rite actually like?”

His hands were clasped in front of him. “I must pass through the gates and meet the oldest forces in the Necropolis. A final appraisal of my soul.” You’re going to nail that, love.

“Hail the living. Emmrich Volkarin and his chosen witness. Rook. Challenger of the gods. Volkarin’s beloved.” One of the lich lords announced.

Oh shit. It’s starting.

“Collect. Yourselves. For the rite.” Another croaked. That voice is a croak. Like a fucking frog.

Will Emm sound like a frog?

His gaze still upwards at his future coworkers I suppose, Emmrich grasped her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m afraid this is as far as you’re permitted. If anything should perchance go wrong…” No. No, don’t say that. I have to believe you’ll come out on the other side, because I can’t even fathom the alternative. Stay calm, Agi. He’ll be alright. There’s no way he can fail this. Emmrich’s head turned to face her. “My dearest heart, you are the most magnificent thing to ever happen to me.”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

Stay strong for him.

She smiled. “I love you.”

Take my love with you to where I cannot follow.

“I love you too, my darling.” He began to walk towards Myrna and Vorgoth, when she reached for his hand. At her gentle pull, Emmrich embraced her and kissed her.

Our last kiss.

No.

Our last mortal kiss.

He will get through this.

But I’m so scared.

I’m terrified.

He strode towards the doors and announced, “I am come to be judged by the dead.”

And then the three entered the chamber, the doors closing behind them.

Don’t cry.

Don’t throw up.

Don’t cry while throwing up.

He’ll be fine…he’ll be fine…he…

***

I have been judged worthy.

Emmrich Volkarin, lich lord, thought to himself as the crown on his skull was adjusted.

Agi. My darling. I shall see you very soon.

The doors opened.

My love.

I see…I see the thread of your life. It’s so bright, dearest!

Oh dear, but I also see fear. Anxiety. Overwhelming her.

Her brown eyes surveyed him as she stepped towards him. “Emmrich?”

“I see so much more clearly now. The deeper eddies of the Fade. The pulse of the Necropolis. I have been through blood and darkness, and I have emerged into light.”

See, sweetheart? All is well.

One of her hands reached for him but jerked back. “Emmrich, now that you’re…do you still feel…”

Fear. So much fear surging through her.

He sighed. “Oh, my love. Come walk the gardens with me.”

She exhaled deeply, nodding. “Yes. I…can we just go somewhere private first. Please? I…” Her chest was heaving, and her eyes were filled with tears. “I just need a minute, I promise.”

Wrapping an arm around her waist, he murmured, “Of course, darling. Here, this way.” He led her to a small chamber adjacent to the one they exited, and once inside, he closed the door behind them. “Are you—”

Agnes immediately doubled over and began to sob uncontrollably. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I was just so scared! I was trying to keep it together for you, because it’s your big day…and then I saw the blood on your father’s knife and I…I can’t…I can’t breathe…”

Oh no. No no no.

Rushing to her, he straightened her and cupped her face in his wrapped hands. “Agi, my darling, you must breathe. Nice and slowly, that’s it. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.” She was terrified and hid it from me. Why? I would have comforted you, tried to ease your fears…you mustn’t be so brave, dearest. “Slow. Deep.” A little laugh. That’s it, my sweet. That’s it. Good girl. “In. Out. In. Out. Good. Good girl.” He watched as her breathing evened and eventually the tears stopped. My poor sweetheart. “Are you feeling better?”

She nodded. “Yeah.” Offering a small smile, she whispered, “Can we go to the gardens now?”

“Of course, my love. The gardens always bring you a sense of peace.”

A barely audible “so do you” left her as he embraced her.

All is well, my love. I shall never die. I will never leave you. Not ever again, I swear.

***

Emmrich was relieved that he and Agnes, after some awkwardness and more tears on her part, had settled back into a normal routine. She even gave me permission to watch her sleep, so that I may see her drift in and out of the Fade.

“Do you see my dreams, love?” she asked that first night.

No, my darling. I sorely wish I did, but alas no.

However, I did make note of—

He was taken out of his thoughts as he walked towards his library when he heard sobbing from��

Meditation room.

Agi.

The lich rushed into the room with the large aquarium to find the redhead holding a letter and crying.

Oh, my love.

More terrible news from the South?

“Dearest, what—”

She sniffled, practically shoving the letter at him. “I swear these are happy tears this time. I promise.”

He cocked his head to one side and took the letter. “While I’m glad to hear that, my love, I’m confused as to what caused your ‘happy tears.’”

She smiled, eyes red and puffy. “Just read it.”

As you wish, my heart.

And so he did as his beloved commanded.

Dear Agnes,

Thank you again for attending the professor’s ceremony. I am not at liberty to speak of the rites of lichdom, but though you could not enter the final chamber, Emmrich expressed gratitude that you awaited him on the other side of his last breath.

While a new world beckons the professor, I believe he enters it more gladly than had he never met you all. We look forward to his next visit, and your own.

Cordially yours,

Watcher Myrna, Keeper of the Seals

“Is that true? You thought of me at the end?” The questions spilled from her very pretty lips, her eyes wide.

He returned the letter to her and brushed his wrapped and bejeweled fingers against her cheek. “My love, there are few moments throughout the day where you do not occupy my every thought. But to answer your questions, yes. It is as Myrna described. I am exceedingly grateful that not only were you waiting for me, but I am eternally grateful for your enduring love and constant support.” My form is different, but the feelings remain and grow stronger every day.

Then Agnes did something she had not done since he achieved lichdom.

She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his teeth.

A hug and a kiss.

She’s been so afraid.

“What if I crush you, Emm?!?!?!? What if I break you?! You’re all bones now, and I’m a lot more than that!”

See, my love? You have nothing to fear.

His own circled her thick waist, a low chuckle emitting from him. “I take it my explanation pleases you, dear?”

Ah, down down down I go and where I shall stop…only I know…

She let out a joyful squeal as one of his hands pinched her generous ass. “Yes! I am very pleased, and I love you so much. I love you.” I do so love it when she rambles. “And I’m sorry that I’ve been so weepy. It’s all been a lot, but I love you. I love you, even your very cold chest hole.” She blinked. “I don’t know if chest hole is the right term.” Chest. Hole. “I don’t think it is. Anyways, that’s okay! I just won’t stick my hand in there.” I wouldn’t advise it, dear. “Oh wait, love---can you store snacks in your chest hole?”

She has such a way with words that never fails to astound me.

“I, erm, don’t know, darling…but that’s something we can look into together. Right now, though,” his other hand tickled her side. “I’m far more interested in sharing more kisses than discovering my capacity for carrying snacks.” He dared to nip at her lower lip, making her giggle. “Does that please you, my love?”

Her lips curled into a sweet little grin. My beautiful girl! “It does please me…my lord.”

Oh.

Oh goodness.

She…astonishes me at every moment…

She spun out of his hold and laughed. “Come on, love! Let’s explore that chest hole and cuddle!”

My dearest heart, you really must refer to it as a chest cavity…but for you…

Chest hole.

#its so beautiful im going to cry #emmrich volkarin #emmlich #emmrook #emmrich x rook #lich emmrich #other people's writing

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skytheundying · 2 months ago

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Flesh and Bone

Pairing - Emmrich x Fem Rook

AO3 link

Warnings - smut, talk of death, oral sex, vaginal sex, erm, sexy bone talk?

Words - 2.6k

A/N - I wanted to explore what physical intimacy and a sexual relationship could possibly look like between Bone Daddy Emmrich and Rook. Have I convinced myself to let Emmrich become a Lich because of this? possibly.

Comments and reblogs as always are much appreciated. If sex with a skeleton has made you as unhinged as it has made me, please let me know so I know I'm not out here all alone. Skele-fuckers unite.

“I’m surprised this is still here.”

You sit on the bed and skim your fingers over sheets of finest nevarran silk. A deep red that shimmers in the veilfire light. It looks like spilled liquid. Like you are sitting in a pool of blood.

You thought the lighthouse would have taken Emmrich’s secret room away. That it would have pulled it back into the fade by whatever flicker of etheric consciousness granted it in the first place. Surely a bedroom was no longer required for the being who would never rest again.

“It knows you are still in need of sleep, darling.” his familiar voice hums “And it knows I am still in desperate need of you.”

His voice is still his. Mostly. Words spoken just as lovingly, but though they had echoed across from another room. You long to be in the same room.

A tear slips free, darkening the silk beneath it.

You have made love countless times in this bed. You suppose you will never do so again.

How would it work? Emmrich had been a partner who luxuriated in the sensual, and you had delighted in each of his mortal intimacies. His slow unravel by your hands, mouth, words, cunt - all of you. Every part given, fully, for every part of him. The laxity of his muscles, the slick of his sweat, the sounds he made—so animal and desperate they could have been dredged up from a time when words had not yet been assigned meaning.

You had touched him everywhere, every way. Around him. Against him. Inside him. Until his human heart pumped blood hard and fast around his body from exertion and undeniable want. Jaw slack, eyes lidded, hair mussed. Soaked and shaking. Yours. You had found the softest, hardest, most hidden recesses that only you were allowed to uncover and uncovered them. Explored and then worshipped them with all the devotion of a doomed sinner granted absolution.

What would that even look like now?

With no nerve endings to spark, how could you ignite him? Even if not for sexual gratification, but purely for devotion and acceptance, how would you show it?

You could wrap your hands around his gold-plated ribs, stroking the arch of each one and reach inside his thoracic cage to where his heart once beat, and press your hand flat against his spine. The scaffolding that had many times bent over and beneath you now fully exposed.

What would he taste like if you kissed him? His flesh had been hot musk and salt, but surely his bones would be cool. You imagine pressing the flat of your tongue to his clavicle, his patella, running it down each and every vertebrae.

There would be no tongue to meet yours, no scalp for your fingers to scrape. No half-hard cock to coax into fullness, to take into the warmth of your wanting mouth until it was rock-hard and aching.

But could you slot yourself between his hips? Feel the curve of his pelvic girdle supporting you? Could you grind against his coccyx, seeking friction? Could you take his phalanges and guide them into the soft, wet heat of your body?

Would he feel it?

No skin, no nerves, no raging synapses. But perhaps, somewhere deeper—in his marrow, where he is still soft - would he feel something?

Would you?

“You have questions,” He says, reaching out with a hand wrapped in linen. The gold that still adorns it is somehow a comfort. He seems to hesitate, unsure, and abandons his instinctive reach and settles for distance. There feels like so much distance.

You finally look up, to the sockets where hazel eyes had been replaced with pitches of veilfire.

“Can you see me?” you ask.

“More clearly than ever, my love”

You feel small in your lack of understanding, in your need for answers you may not be prepared for.

You lift your hands to push the pads of your fingers against the exposed bone of his once-handsome face. To hold his skull in your palms.

“Can you feel me?”

“More deeply than you could possibly imagine.”

“But not the same as before?”

“No, not the same as before.”

Your hands drop and he kneels before you—the eternal lich-lord of the grand necropolis, brought to his knees by his mortal lover.

“Could you explain?” you ask. “Could you show me?”

You need to know. Need to be sure that, even though the desires of his flesh were obliterated along with his poor, cherished body, his soul still burns for you. That he loves you. That his love is even a sliver of what you feel for him.

His hand lifts to cup your face, the cold press of metal cold against your flushed skin.

“I can show you, darling. For a short time, at least. No mortal can stand it for long, even one as indomitable as you.” You hear the warmth in his words, and you nod.

The green fire in his skull shifts—gold, silver, blinding white. Every colour. No colour. Shades and tones streaking with luminescence that have no name, known only to stars and gods.

The room disappears, reduced to a pinpoint, and you to a dust mote within it. The air you gasp for is ancient, and has been breathed by countless lives across countless worlds. Stars blaze, and the world spins ever onward.

“Focus on me, love. Deep, slow,” he says, echoing words he once spoke. Weeks ago? Years? Seconds? Words he has said, will say, is saying.

Ripples become waves, dust becomes desert.

In Arlathan, the trees sing. In the Necropolis, the grieving howl. The Veil creaks, and the Fade whispers. Countless mortals are born, die, laugh, and weep—

“Too much,” you say, voice trembling. “It’s too much.”

“Here.” He places his other hand on your cheek. “Look at me.”

You do, and it is him. Neither undead nor alive. Neither mortal nor other. Simply him. Emmrich.

The colour of summer changing into autumn. The first crackle of a much-needed fire. Tea leaves steeping. A song, half-remembered, slipping back into memory. Fingers brushing along the spines of books. Gold. Curiosity. Warmth. Joy.

The Fade swirls around him, patterns shifting like dust caught in sunlight.

He laughs—a soft sound, and it is here, in this room, with you. You breathe it in, let it settle within you, until it is no longer just his laughter but yours as well.

And you feel what he feels: joy. Joy that he is here and so are you. That you love him, and he delights in it. That he loves you, eternally.

Other feelings ripple through you: curiosity, patience, calm, apprehension, relief. Fear—not of his death, but purely of yours. And something else, a feeling with no name.

The moment just after sleep but before waking.

And—

Oh.

Desire. Still there, waiting. Changed, but present. Brand new and ancient all at once.

“I didn’t think you could still feel... that you would...” you say

“Of course I do, dearest. Of course.”

“Me too,” you admit, your cheeks warming, a blush spreading as though you’re uncoiling some hidden truth. You feel inexperienced—like a virgin, your palms and tongue aching but uncertain of how to use them, every inch of you yearning and unsure.

The desire - his desire, yours, both - blooms at your confession, pulling at your chest like a string of heat tethering you to him. It doesn’t just simmer within you; it coils around you, around him, entwining you.

And you understand—it’s obvious. Your pleasure is his pleasure. He can feel it. Taste it. Indulge in it.

His hand trails down from your shoulder, brushing along your arm with such featherlight grace that it makes you gasp.

“Would you like me to stop?” he asks softly. “We do not have to—”

“Keep going, please,” you breathe, almost desperate.

His hands settle at your waist, as he eases you down onto the silken sheets. His legs nudge yours apart, and he kneels above you, towering and tender.

“How could you ever doubt me, my darling?” he murmurs, voice low, steady, and unwavering. “That I would no longer love you? No longer want you? The stars themselves could burn to cinders and fall from the sky before I am ever done desiring you.”

There is a crackle, a spark. The room is alive with static.

“Do you think I need to be built of flesh and blood to grant you absolute pleasure?”

From his hands gripping your waist comes a sensation unlike anything you’ve known. A vibration with no movement. A hum with no sound. Pulses of magic and heat throb beneath your skin and behind your eyes, winding through you like molten threads of ecstasy.

Your back arches, your toes curl, and your breath leaves you in a gasp.

“Do you think I need a tongue?”

And then it fills you—a memory so vivid it bursts across your senses. You taste it, smell it, live it again. His desk beneath you, your legs spread wide, his face buried between your thighs. His hands grip you, fingers biting into your skin to keep you still as you tremble, his moans vibrating through you as he drinks in your pleasure. You are shaking, undone by the force of your orgasm, even as his arousal presses against the confines of his trousers, desperate to be buried inside you, to—

The same pulse he felt then thunders through you now, the magic igniting your nerve endings and burning you alive with sensation. The lich-lord hums above you, satisfied, as you writhe beneath him.

“My darling,” he says, his voice molten with indulgence, “I can unravel you with naught but words and salacious intent…”

Another wave crashes over you, another memory. The Cobbled Swan, the din of the pub swirling around you in a haze. You’re in a shadowed corner, barely listening to the sultry croon of the singer. Emmrich’s lips brush your ear as his hand works its way under your skirts, his fingers stroking the slick heat between your thighs.

His whispers are wicked, hedonistic. Somehow eloquent and obscene in equal measure. His words pour into you, their meaning rippling through your body. He’s telling you to stay quiet, to keep still, and the tension coils tighter as you try, your breaths shallow and ragged. You can feel his fingers moving, the heat of his mouth, the intimacy of his whispers.

Now, in this moment, his voice fills the room as if it’s being said anew, a loop of memory and magic merging. You come apart beneath him, your body and mind unable to tell the difference between the past and this overwhelming present.

“There is ecstasy to be found beyond the confines of mortal flesh - whatever pleasure exists, whatever fulfillment, I shall pull from the world of the living and the fade and anything that exists beyond and in-between. It shall be yours, as I am.”

A final memory... no, more than that. A hope, a dream, a pinnacle. You are in the bed you lay upon now, with Emmrich above you as he is in this moment. His skin is warm against yours, his thumb stroking your cheek, his lips brushing against yours, parting only to let your tongues meet in a rhythm as familiar as breathing.

He moves inside you, slow and deliberate. Between heated kisses, he pulls back to stare into your eyes. His gaze is a mixture of unending love and fierce desire, as if he is seeing every part of you - body, soul, thoughts - all at once.

A strand of his hair has come loose, falling against his brow, and you reach up to brush it away. Your touch lingers, your fingertips tracing his face. His breath hitches, and yours follows suit.

There is a build within him, a cord tightening, coiling, that matches your own. You can’t tell which is yours and which is his; it is all the same now. His pleasure courses through you, your pulse racing in tandem with his.

Then and now. Past and present. Man and Lich.

There is no separation, no boundary. Just the two of you, suspended in a moment that stretches to eternity.

Stars burst behind your eyes as the threads pull impossibly tight, and then everything shatters into golden light. Wave after wave crashes through you, a tide that refuses to retreat, frothing and roiling within and around you. It is exquisite. It is unbearable.

“Too much,” you gasp, the words tearing from your throat, raw and desperate.

Immediately, his hands leave you, the connection severed with a suddenness that leaves you aching. The tidal wave recedes, and the world rushes back into place. You are on the silken sheets once more, in the confines of his bedroom. Mortal. Spent.

The vibrant, pulsing energy of a moment ago is gone, leaving the air still and heavy, yet your body hums with its lingering echoes. It all feels grey now in comparison to the brilliance you’d just glimpsed. The technicolor vastness he now inhabits is out of reach once more.

“Are you alright, darling?”

You nod, swallowing against the rush of sensations that still ebb and flow inside you. Words elude you for the moment, but he doesn’t press. He waits, ever-patient, until you prop yourself up against the pillows, and only then does he move to join you. The weight of him laying beside you is a comfort.

“I wanted you to feel it,” he murmurs, warm and intimate “Even briefly. To know how deeply I burn for you, even now.”

The soft glow of veilfire reflects in the curve of his skull, casting an otherworldly light on the contours of his form. You want to curl up against him, the way you used to, but are unsure how. His body is devoid of the pliant comfort you once took for granted.

Instead, you settle for his hand resting upon your stomach, his thumb moving in gentle, slow circles against your skin. You close your eyes for a moment, focusing on that simple motion, letting it calm the ache in your chest. The yearning for what once was softens, replaced by a quiet appreciation for what remains.

You place your hand over his, lacing your fingers, marveling at how perfectly they still fit together. Nothing else matters. There is only him and you, and the flame that burns eternal.

“Could we…” Your voice is tentative, “Could we do that again sometime?”

The sound of his laughter fills the room, rich and familiar. The laughter of the man you knew - and still know. The way he has always laughed for you, unguarded.

“Of course we can,” he says, the corners of his voice soft with a smile you feel even if you can’t see.

You push yourself up, pressing a kiss where his teeth gleam in place of lips. He makes a sound like a sigh, a tender exhalation that warms you as you lay back down, shifting onto your side to face him. He mirrors you, his empty gaze impossibly full of affection.

“I have more questions for.. ” A yawn steals the rest of your words away.

“I know, but sleep now,” he murmurs. His hand brushes lightly against your cheek. “We shall talk more in the morning. We have many mornings in which to talk, I promise.”

You lay there, sleep tugging your thoughts into fragments, a haze of gratitude and happiness settling over you. He is still yours, and you are still his. Yet, as your eyes grow heavy, one more memory surfaces: how nice it used to be to feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, the rhythmic cadence of his breath carrying you both toward the promise of tomorrow.

#skele-fucker here #we share the same brain cell about this #bone that lich #lich emmrich #emmrich volkarin #emmlich

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