#an hour after I finished my first draft of this my boyfriend fell busted his head open and had to go to the er

[kirkwall-tourism-department]

extra reading ch. 4

thank you so much @ziskandra for beta reading!

some (physical) hurt/comfort emrook with a very overly flirty rook.

Leaning over his balcony, Emmrich flipped through the book Bellara had offered him, suggesting it as a good book for Rook to try and read. As much as he wanted Rook to be able to expand her literary horizons, it was hard for him to recommend this over anything in his library. The amount of times he had read about tongues battling for dominance denied comprehension. Sighing, he set down the novel, thinking about how to explain to Bellara his hesitancy to share it with Rook, who was currently in the Hossberg Wetlands with Davrin, defending Lavendel from an encroaching darkspawn horde. They had a plan for when she returned- a trip to the library of the Grand Necropolis. Audric had agreed to give her a full tour, promising to make her first visit to a library memorable. When Emmrich had invited her, she had made a quip about it being a date- which had drawn out a reaction of surprise from him that she seemed to relish. At first, he had assumed her flirting had been incidental, that he had misconstrued the implications of her comments. But with each passing day, though, her attempts grew more unambiguous, leaving Emmrich to spend entirely too much of his free time thinking about her. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his door slamming open into the stone wall beside it. Davrin stood in the doorway, having kicked it open, holding Rook’s unconscious body in his arms.

“Emmrich!” Davrin shouted. “Rook’s hurt. Took a sword to the stomach. She passed out a minute ago.”

“Lay her on the table,”  Emmrich instructed, all his previous thoughts abandoned for a single-minded focus on saving Rook. He rushed down the stairs, trying to assess the severity of her wound from a distance. Blood stained the dull metal of her armor, spilling out from her side. Color had drained from her face, and she hung lifelessly in Davrin’s arms. “Manfred! I’ll require your assistance.” His skeletal assistant shambled over, carrying surgical supplies with him. Davrin laid Rook’s comatose body on the cold stone slab, the image of  it looking entirely too close to an autopsy for Emmrich’s comfort.

“What do you need me to do?” Davrin asked, clearly uncomfortable being in a crisis in which he had no clear way to assist.

“Manfred and I can take it from here. I appreciate the concern,” Emmrich assured the Warden. Davrin nodded and hesitantly walked out, leaving Emmrich and Manfred alone with Rook’s slowly hemorrhaging body. 

Removing her armor and pulling up the underlying fabric that covered the wound, Emmrich revealed the source of the bleeding. The crude weaponry of the darkspawn had torn into her, leaving a jagged gash in the side of her abdomen, narrowly missing her vital organs. Despite that stroke of luck, the amount of blood she had lost left her life teetering on a dangerous precipice- one that only he could pull her away from. Without requiring prompting, Manfred handed Emmrich a small bowl of water and a clean rag. Emmrich cleaned the blood away from the gash, revealing the true length of the cut. It was almost the size of his finger, but it was impossible to tell how deep it went.  Grabbing a needle and thread, he carefully began to suture it, doing his best to remember to breathe despite the patient who lay beneath him.With each stitch, a different memory of her bubbled to the surface of his mind. Evenings spent reading together, late-night conversations by the hearth, stolen glances whenever she looked away from him. Finishing his mending, he tied off the thread, praying it would stay in place. Thick, red ink still seeped from the threads, but the worst of the bleeding was over. Motioning for Manfred to hand him a roll of gauze, he wrapped it around the lithe muscles of her stomach, until the wound was completely covered.

 Maker willing, it would simply be another scar added to the extensive gallery Rook had already curated. He had been aware of the scarring on her arms, mostly hidden by the griffon-wing tattoos that laid over them. The ones that marred her torso, their severity unobscured, made Emmrich’s stomach drop thinking of what she had endured to receive them. Innumerable whispers of slashes and stabs of battles long past, scattered over the unmistakable remnants of an enemy’s lightning spell spidering over her stomach. He wanted more than anything to hold her in his arms and stop the world from leaving its cruel mark on her ever again.

Finishing his work, he sat back for a moment, trying to calm his nerves. She would be okay. It would simply be a test of his patience waiting for her to awaken. 

Likely one of the most challenging tests he had undergone in his life thus far.

—

Rook slowly opened her eyes, trying to remember where she was. She had been in the Hossberg Wetlands, clearing out some darkspawn that had been getting too close to Lavendel, and then… nothing. Trying to blink away her confusion, she took in her surroundings, before realizing where she was.

Emmrich’s autopsy table.

Did she die? Did he reanimate her? Maker, was she a skeleton? 

She tried to sit up before blinding pain shot through her abdomen, stopping her movement. Despite the agony, the fact that she still had a body to feel pain with was comforting.

“Rook!” Emmrich appeared at her side, relief and concern fighting for control of his face. “You were injured while fighting darkspawn. Please lay back down.” He placed his hand behind her head, slowly helping her descend onto the makeshift pillow he had laid underneath her head while she lay unconscious. 

“Emmrich, I need you to know how scary it is to wake up on a necromancer’s autopsy table,” she hissed through gritted teeth, the pain from her attempt to move still radiating through her. Peering down at the source, she saw gauze wrapped around her abdomen, a small red splotch staining her left side. 

“I… suppose I never considered how disconcerting that would be. It’s rare that the body on it is alive, after all.” He gave a slight laugh, comforted by the quick return of Rook’s sense of humor. 

“How bad is it?” she asked, preparing herself for the worst. Would she end up like Varric, bedridden and useless? The thought made panic start to rise in her chest. How could she even call herself a Warden if she wasn’t out there fighting what was likely to be the final Blight?

“It will leave a scar, but you should recover fully within a month,” he informed her carefully, clearly aware of the reaction she would have to the news. 

“Well, it’s not like I have anything better to do than lay in bed for a whole month,” Rook spat, sarcasm dripping from her voice like venom. As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Emmrich had just saved her life; he didn’t deserve to have her frustrations taken out on him. She hated when this happened- when something got under her skin enough to drudge up the muck of spite and anger that used to coat her every word before she was conscripted into the Wardens.

“I understand your frustration, but it’s vital you allow yourself the necessary time to recover,” Emmrich explained gently, undisturbed by her negativity. He stood over her, hands resting on the edge of the table, looking at her with an upsetting amount of care in his eyes.

“I know. You’re right. I’m sorry.” She sighed, thankful that her words didn’t hurt him. 

“I need to change the dressings on your wound- let me know if there’s any discomfort.” The soft kindness in his voice wrapped around her like a well-loved blanket. She felt his hands gently graze her stomach, removing the gauze and cleaning the wound with a practiced touch. His gaze was sharply focused on her wound, oblivious to her observation. The cold metal of his rings was a stark contrast to her rapidly heating skin. Despite all her flirting, this was the first time they had actually touched each other. She felt blush begin to creep across her face, the sight of his hands on her bare skin fanning the always present flame of desire she held for him. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight to have a man’s hands on her, but what was new was the care with which he touched her. Despite a lifetime of back-alley hookups and drunken one-night stands, this felt like the most intimate moment she had ever had with another person. After finishing his work, he turned to give her a reassuring smile, before seeing the reaction on her face. His brows furrowed, his smile twisting into a frown of concern. “Are you feeling ill at all, besides the pain?” he asked, pressing his hand to her forehead. “You seem flushed- I’m worried you may be developing a fever. Oh, and I was so careful to make sure it was clean…” he trailed off, anxiety stealing his voice. 

“Emmrich, I’m not sick. It’s because a handsome man recently had his hands wrapped around my waist,” she explained, willing to embarrass herself to assuage his anxiety. 

“Ah.”

“But if you’re worried about my blushing, I can think of a few things that would get rid of it.” She gave him a wicked smile, excited to see the reaction her flirting would get from him. Every day, she pushed the boundaries of what she said to him, always entertained by his response. 

“In your current condition? I think not,” he scoffed, her attempts to fluster him unsuccessful. Clearly, her constant advances were no longer surprising to the professor. “Regardless, I hardly think that would improve the issue.” He gave her a sideways glance and small smile before returning to the chair he had pulled up next to the autopsy table. Rook gave him an exaggerated pout.

“How long until I can move around?” Rook asked, already struggling to stay still. She had never done well keeping calm- even when reading, she regularly had to stand up and pace to satisfy her urge to constantly move.

“It depends on how quickly you heal- but you’ll likely be on bed rest for another day or two. I can move you back to your room, if you would like.”

“Trying to take me to bed?”

“Rook, I must say, having someone who was recently bleeding out on my autopsy table so brazenly flirting with me is a new experience.”

“...Sorry.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad experience.” He smiled at her, before a shadow clouded his eyes and he looked away. Exhaustion began to pull at Rook’s consciousness, demanding she go back to sleep. For once, she decided to listen when told what to do.

— 

Rook slipped into a deep slumber within moments, their banter draining what small reserves of energy she had left. The implications of their conversation hung heavy in the air around him. Despite the shame he felt about his thoughts about Rook, he seemed to forget them once he was speaking to her. As soon as she left, though, they came flooding back, reminding him of his poor judgement. Rook was half his age- nothing could ever come of their apparent mutual attraction. Burdening her youth with a partner of his age wasn’t fair to her, nevermind the outward appearance of their relationship. He had already felt the questioning eyes of their teammates on himself and Rook when they conversed; clearly, whatever spark existed between them was visible to the outside world as well. As much as he hated his concern about the impression he made on others, he couldn’t pretend it didn’t exist. From beside him, Rook began to gently snore, peacefully sleeping despite the wound in her side. She had brought a light into his life that repelled the gloom he wasn’t aware he had been lost in. Would shackling her to him dim that glow? Was he selfish for still wanting her regardless? 

He had forgotten how agonizingly painful it could be to fall in love.