#oh emmrich what have you done

[timethehobo]

Quick animated thingy cos I was just imagining a romance route greeting.

[halffullboxofjuice]

Definitely spoilers but I gotta talk about my biggest regret in my Dragon Age Veilguard playthrough:

It really says something that even though it hurts I don’t regret choosing Harding (leading to her death) or choosing Treviso over Minrathous. All my choices felt at least right in the moment.

But I will forever regret making Emmerick a lich. Not because it’s an unfulfilling choice, I’m really glad I could give him Lichdom, BUT I KILLED MANFRED AND I’M A MONSTER!!!

[hydrangeapartridge]

Manfred learns about rings (EmmRook post game short fic)

I have so many ideas for domestic post game EmmRook... Here's another one featuring their favourite skeleton son. This is pure tooth-rotting fluff (with mild spoilers for the end of the game of course but still spoilers)

Enjoy! (Update: part 2 can be found here)

Fire cracking in the hearth, a warm cup of herbal tea and a good book; Rook loved those peaceful and cosy evenings. While she was lying on the living room’s plush meridian, Emmrich and Manfred were discussing magical artefacts near the fireplace. Manfred was sitting crosslegged on the carpet, listening with undivided attention to his teacher’s lessons. The subject of the night seemed to be the use of enchanted rings to enhance one’s magic. Comfortably sitting on an armchair, Emmrich took his time taking off his rings one by one, explaining which enchantement they bore and their purpose before placing them neatly on the coffee table when he was done.

Manfred’s shiny eyes reviewed the display of jewels intently, with his signature curiosity. Carefully, he pointed to each of them in order, and repeated what he learned. Emmrich nodded along, gently correcting his apprentice’s few mistakes or sharing more details.

Rook couldn’t help but be distracted by the scene. Manfred made so much progress in so little time, making her, and mostly Emmrich, both ecstatic and proud. During the last Blight, she had no opportunity to witness the extent of Emmrich’s love for learning and mostly his love for teaching. It was an area in which all his generosity, patience and intelligence shone through. Being knowledgeable didn’t necessarily imply being pedagogical, but Emmrich excelled in it, and thrived in discussing and challenging his own wisdom.

There was one ring left on Emmrich’s left ring finger. Manfred noticed and asked about it.

“Ah” A small private smile graced Emmrich’s thin lips as he gazed down to the simple but finely chiselled golden band. “This one like you noticed holds no enchantment” He said.

Manfred was present at their wedding of course, but Rook wasn’t sure how much he grasped the meaning of such an event. For all his practical knowledge, Manfred, as a spirit, had a different take on emotions; one that Rook and Emmrich didn’t always understand.

“What for?” Manfred asked and Rook waited on Emmrich’s answer with renewed interest.

“Well, it is a symbol. A reminder of the bond between Rook and I, and the promise we made each other to be together” He gulped before he added “Until death does us appart”

“Until forever” Rook corrected him with a gentle smile.

Emmrich quickly turned to her, surprised to find she had been listening. He shook his head but a relaxed smile graced his features. “Right. Forever. In this world and beyond”

Manfred tilted his head, and Rook could almost see the gears turning in his skull.

Emmrich started putting his rings back on, leaving the lessons of the evening to sink in for now.

Rook took a sip of her lukewarm tea and was about to go back to her book when Manfred asked: “Can I have one? Ring?”

Emmrich stopped mid gesture and blinked in surprise, but he was quick to regain his composure and welcomed the question. “Well, I am happy to see you’re interested in them Manfred. I would offer you one but apprentices in training aren’t authorised to use them. No exceptions. I wouldn’t want the other teachers to think I play favourites.”

Rook snorted a little at that. It was a nice sentiment, and she admired Emmrich’s will to be just and fair. But in other instances, she knew he did play favourites without even being aware of it. How could he not? His relationship with Manfred was most special.

“Not those. The other one” Manfred said, poiting to Emmrich’s ring finger.

Rook perked up from her book. What an unexpected twist. Even after all this time, Manfred always managed to surprise them every day.

“Oh” Emmrich half breathed half chuckled. “Oh” He repeated, visibly taken aback. He ran a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair before he set on asking: “And why would you want one?”

Smart move to choose not to assume what meaning Manfred puts behind that ring. Rook waited intently for the answer. Manfred couldn’t possibly want to marry someone; and her poor husband was most definitely not ready for that either.

“To be with you. Forever?” Manfred asked, visibly unsure of what the last part meant.

Rook’s heart positively melted in her chest. She looked to Emmrich, who had brought his gloved hand in front of his mouth, eyes wide and shiny with both joy and disbelief. Neither of them trusted themselves to talk for now.

Manfred rocked on his back bones, self conscious. “I can’t? Bad?” He asked lowly.

Emmrich leaped out of the armchair and knelt before the curiosity spirit. He took both Manfred’s bony hands in his. “Of course you can Manfred! Of course you can” He reassured him, eyes teary and voice shaky with emotion. “That would be wonderful! We’ll get you one of your choosing”

“Yeay!” Manfred beamed.

Emmrich sat back onto his heels “But to be clear, you must understand that if the meaning of matching rings is that we share a bond, the one we share isn’t the exact same one I share with Rook?” He felt the need to clarify, once his initial shock had passed.

“I know” Manfred immediately replied, like it was obvious to him.

“Good” Emmrich clasped his hands together, considering the matter settled. “The anniversary of your return from the fade grows near. We’ll get the two matching rings then. It would make for a most perfect occasion” He decided excitedly as he got up, dusting his perfectly clean trousers in the process.

“Rook gets one too” Manfred stated and Emmrich turned to his wife, that baffled expression that reminded her of their first flirts painting his refined features.

“Really?” Rook replied, flabbergasted too. “ Thank you Manfred! I’d be honored” Her heart squeezed in her chest, full of overflowing love for them both.

Emmrich and Manfred had a very special relationship in which she didn’t want to intrude too much. But feeling included by the curiosity spirit was an incredibly touching surprise.

- - -

A few days later, they found themselves shopping in one of Nevarra’s most famous jeweller's shops. Emmrich let Manfred in, and let the spirit survey the displays while he explained their needs to the clerc. Rook wondered if they often sold jewellery destined to undead; none the less, the clerc didn’t bat an eye at the weird family’s request. Perfect client service was expected from such a place, and Emmrich was a regular customer.

They waited patiently for Manfred to choose a ring, watching him ponder the options. At one point he came to Emmrich to ask what price was the limit. Thoughtful of him; he was well taught, and more and more proficient in calculus as well as assessing the value of things. Unsurprisingly, Emmrich told him not to worry about it. The watcher now earned a more than comfortable living yet he didn’t throw money away and was often more frugal than most would expect. He had consequent savings but wouldn’t be stingy when the expanse was deemed important. Of course he wouldn’t put a price limit to the symbol of his bond with Manfred. Rook was sure her husband would pluck the stars from the sky to satisfy his protégé’s curiosity. Thankfully Manfred was too pure to purposefully take advantage of it.

Manfred’s final choice was a thin golden double band joined with a discrete pale turquoise green emeral in the center. Its color reminded Rook of the skeleton’s eyes, and she would be happy to wear the same one on her left pinky finger, close to her wedding ring. Emmrich decided on the same finger placement, and the clerc happily took their meisurements, not commenting except to praise their taste in gems. They would receive the rings just in time for Manfred’s ressurection anniversary.

Emmrich was last to go for measurements, and while waiting for him, Rook joined Manfred, who was still admiring the jewels in the display cases. His attention was completely taken it seemed by a tiny silver hairpin shaped like a coiled up snake, a pale zircon in place of its eye.

“You do have great taste in jewellery Manfred” Rook commented “Too bad you don’t have luscious hair to wear that”

Emmrich arrived just when her joke flopped. “Are we good to go?” He asked, and Manfred finally took his gaze off the hairpin. Only to point at it with his finger.

“I get it for Neve”

Emmrich stepped back and Rook hid a snorted chuckle in her hand at the way his jaw almost dropped to the floor.

While his caretaker was having an existencial crisis, Manfred took out his personnal money pouch from his hip satchel. He started sorting the coins, and when he was done, showed Emmrich the large amount resting in his opened palm. “Is this enough?” He asked, still unsure about his calculus skills.

It turned up he did get the amount right, but even if that hairpin was small and amongst the cheapest articles in the shop, its price still represented a good two-thirds of Manfred’s savings.

Emmrich cleared his throat and eyed the coins with uncertainty. “That would be the exact price indeed, well done on your calculus. But are you sure you wish to spend that amount on this gift?” He asked gently. “It represents a few months of your earnings as an apprentice, and I won’t be compensating it with a rise of your allowance”

“I buy” Manfred brushed off Emmrich’s concerns, and the watcher sighed in defeat.

What more could he say? Manfred needed guidance to prevent him from getting into dangerous situations but he wasn’t a child. He was his own person, and deserved to be able to make enlightened decisions of his own.

“I’m sure Neve is going to love it” Rook encouraged him. “We’ll have to invite her as quickly as possible”

“It is a very beautiful and thoughtful gift indeed” Emmrich agreed.

While Manfred paid, Emmrich placed a hand on Rook’s waist, bringing her closer, pressing her to his side.

“Our skeleton son has grown so much” She teased him, resting her head against his arm with a content sigh.

Emmrich didn’t correct her anymore; he knew now that it was a lost cause to stop her from fondly calling Manfred their son.

“I wish he wouldn’t grow so fast” He confessed his worries to her.

“Next thing we’ll know he’ll be getting married” Rook couldn’t resist teasing him. It had always been her way of trying to lift up his spirits. “I hope you’re ready for grandchildren” She said, wiggling her eyebrows.

Emmrich almost choked on his saliva. He gave Rook a chidding look and she only grinned in return.

“We should probably warn Lucanis that he’s got some serious competition”

“That is quite enough dearest” Emmrich reprimanded, but at the same time, he squeezed her waist harder.

A few meters away, the clerc was handing Manfred a small blue gift bag that the spirit took with a giddy sort of caution. It was adorable.

“I believe we’ll remember this day for a long time” Rook whispered, looking up to the beautiful face of her husband.

Emmrich placed a small kiss atop her head. “I treasure the memories of each day I am allowed in your company”

[livingsurreal]

Thoughts and theories in regards to my favorite senior necromancer

This man swept me of my feet so completely that I am still reeling. He is my new Solavellan and the amount of feels I have about him, its ungodly.

So I present to you my way to long essay about why Emmrich is the saddest and greatest man Bioware ever created, right next to Solas.

Please be aware of spoilers if you have not completed the game yet.

Also, shutout to @jaal-ama-daravv - you were looking for others peoples thoughts and theories. Also, thank you for all your posts and love for Emmrich.

(Edit for typos)

Their whole romance starts with dear Rook trying to flirt with him. And Rook being Rook their flirts are… questionable. I image Rook always doing a facepalm “Oh god, what did I just say?” afterwards. They… are not really that good at flirting. Half the time he doesn’t even seem to get that Rook was flirty with him.

But, oh, he did get it. He just couldn’t really comprehend it. This pretty, young and exciting person, flirting with him?!? Rook can be anything up to their mid-40s according to canon. That is not that much younger than him. But to him, they do SEEM young. Despite them being somewhat younger than Emmrich, I do think though, in quite a few ways, they are more experienced and knowledgeable than him. Emmrich led a pretty sheltered life. His childhood seems to be a happy one, despite them being poor. The loss of his parents had a huge impact on his life. To a degree where it still impacts him in a major way, even now, a lifetime later. But outside of that, I don’t think there was much strife or adventure in his life.

He is a quiet man who loves his books, and his time and work in the necropolis. He rarely even left the Necropolis. He never saw much of the world outside of it. But he always wanted to. Always dreamed of some kind of adventure. I think this is one of the reasons he so readily agreed to help Rook. A chance for adventure (and to help the world).

So here he finds himself in the company of a vibrant adventurous Rook who has seen and experienced so much. I think no matter their age difference, they would seem younger, “fresh faced” and vibrant to him. They are so full of life compared to him, who has not done that much living in recent years. They are less stuck in their ways, are out in the world and not sequestered in a life of routine.

In some ways he seems to be older than he is. That man is in his 50s. That is NOT old. But he seems to have lacked the courage to take life by its horns and just ride it. He is cautious, a coward in many ways. But somehow this dear Rook seems to bring out a different side of him. An almost forgotten yearning for more.

So, Rook awkwardly flirts with him. Bumbles and stumbles over words to flatter him. And he is exhilarated, touched and most of all confused. Why would this beautiful, vibrant person be interested in HIM of all people. There are other people around who should be so much more interesting to them than him. And how could he not be interested in them himself? They are, in a way, what he wants to be. Adventurous. Full of life. Indomitable. No matter what life throws at them, they refuse to yield. They have a courage the lacks, or thinks he lacks.

But that man is so much braver than he thinks. The fact that he is so open with Rook about his thanatophobia, even with a Rook that is not romantically interested in him is so touching. He tells them his most inner fears and all he wishes for it in return is some respect and kindness.

So, after some light and awkward flirting he tells them. If they DO mean it, he is interested. Emmrich is a deeply romantic man. In the dept of his heart he does not want a short-term affair. He wants someone to spend his life with. He wants something real. He wants everything.  It’s what he always wanted, but never found and had completely given up upon.  So he opens up a bit more.

But around that time, he also realizes that he absolutely has to tell them about his plans for lichdom. He tells the Rook on the friendship path why he hopes for their help in regard of Johanna. He explains why it is so important to him to find and stop Johanna.

Same goes for Rook on the romance path. But here comes the other side of the coin. Lichdom puts a possible halt on their fledging romance. He cannot know if Rook would be willing to continue what they’ve barely started.

They may either continue under the understanding that they have just temporary affair. What he never wanted. He always wanted that eternal flame – but by the Maker he wants to be with them, even if it is just a short time. He is still all feely at this point and the whole scope of his emotions have not yet hit him.

Or even, can he dare to dream, beyond that point of no return and stay with him after he becomes a Lich.

But he must put it out there. He cannot go further into their romance pretending his plans do not exist. He thinks Rook has a right to know what they are getting in to, and he is correct (and much respected) for that.

At the end, Rook commits to being with him with the full knowledge that Lichdom will come, sooner or later. If they stay with him from that point on is still undecided, but for now they are his. And how can he say no to that. He certainly did not expect this. I believe he fully expected this to be their end. But his confession ended truly in a night of unexpected splendor.

So, we know he always wanted “enduring affection”, love and commitment. And he had his fair share of lovers, paramours and affairs. I would think that he is someone who, when he does fall in love, loves so deeply and completely that it often scared his lovers away.

Not necessarily in an unhealthy way, but he is, underneath all that poise and manners, a deeply romantic man with strong emotions. I don’t think that Rook is special b/c he loves them more than he could love someone else, but b/c they not only accept all his love, more so, they welcome and return it in equal measure. They accept him and want him, even with all the baggage he comes with.

I think he was burned quite a few times in the past. So, he is trying to hold back, “be normal about it”. It’s just hard when this person he loves so much looks at him like he is their moon and stars and flame eternal. It’s hard when he feels finally and completely seen. He told them about his deepest fears, his plans about lichdom, and they are still here, willing to be on his side all the way. And while they seem to act like teenagers being all over each other, all want and need and stolen kisses, I think what they feel goes way deeper from the start.

At the same time, I also think that is partly at fault for not being able to find a lasting relationship. He had people in his live who did not want to fully commit to him. But I also think, the he never truly committed to anyone. He did, surely, on a more surface level. But a part of him always stayed closed off. He never gave himself completely. His fears made sure of that. What happens with Rook, the wonderful, oh so romantic start of their relationship? Only to end in this uncomfortable limbo because he lacks “the guts to say how he feels”? I think that was not the first time a relationship ended sour this way for him.

Take the amount of his feelings, add to that his thanatophobia, and that poor man becomes more and more a complete mess. What starts out as exciting and new and OMG THEY LIKE ME, becomes soon a new target for his fears. All those feelings inside him warring with each other. He wants to pin them against a wall and declare his undying love and run and hide at the same time.

Then comes Manfreds sacrifice and his big decision. Will he restore Manfred? Will he give up his friend to achieve his dreams?

Since I went with Manfred, I will mainly describe my feelings regarding mortal Emmrich. Though I believe Lich Emmrich suffers from the same base fears, they just find a different target.

Tbh, what Lace says to him certainly would not have helped. Her words feed into his doubts and fears and give them credibility. See, even Lace says this might not be right. Rook is younger. They move too fast. He will die earlier. Rook will be devastated. A whirlwind of emotions and half formed thoughts fueled by fear.

All he ever sees and what is constantly on his mind is not the time they can spend together, but the end of their time together. His death, their death, it does not matter. One of them will be gone and the other will be left with the pain he felt after his parents died. A pain that might even be worse than what he felt back then.

Rook being younger just becomes the vehicle by which he tries to convince himself that this might not be such a good idea after all. But its all his fears speaking.

And fear can be so strong, so overwhelming.

When they had this fight, my read on his words was that he wanted to break up with Rook. His words at that moment are condescending, bordering on mean.  He is lashing out. We know he can be vindictive when he feels wronged, but he is nothing but kind and gentle to those he likes and who treat him with respect. I think, in a way, that it was not necessarily a conscious decision, but more of an instinct to hurt Rook. To make them angry and not love him anymore. To make it easier to end it, spare them the pain of breaking up now and of loosing him to death one day. By protecting himself from the pain of their death should he outlive them.

As if that would work and make any difference to Rook, or him. They are already so madly in love with each other.

And I think, what makes Rook different from his previous partners is that they realized, if they let him finish this sentence, he might break something beyond repair. Even if it was his fear speaking at that moment, not his love. Running away from his feelings is a recurring theme for him. And he does not WANT to break up with them. But his fear tells him its better this way. Fear is a liar, though.

So they speak a harsh truth. It’s his fear, insecurities and cowardice speaking. They do not let him get away with it. It is harsh, yes. But I think it was also necessary. It spells out a truth he did not want to admit to himself. He is afraid, insecure and a coward. And the big question, is that what he wants to be? They are, in sadly not the nicest way, telling him to get hid goddamn shit together. And sometimes that’s needed. Especially for an academic man like Emmrich. No Emmrich, that is not logical. It is pure emotion and fear is running your life, not you.

In a perfect world they would have told him so in a calm and collected manner. Less harsh words and more kindness. But would that have had the same impact on Emmrich? Rook is a person too, with their own fears and hopes and dreams. And Emmrich right now is breaking their heart. I think he needed that. To see the pain and hurt he inflicted on them.

Can you imagine the regret he would feel in the end? If he left Rook? It would leave him a broken shell of a man. His final defeat. Fear had won. Nothing would be better, and no one would have been spared any pain. I would just be a lifetime of regret and what ifs. The one person who accepted him fully, loved him so deeply, and HE threw everything away.

I think, the time Rook was trapped inside the fade prison might have been the best thing that could happen in the long run. It’s all his fears come to reality. Rook is gone. He lost them. And he just wants to curl up and hide. But he can’t. He needs to find them. If he lets fear win now, Rook might be lost forever. He cannot allow himself to be coward now. I think this time was a come-to-Jesus moment for him. It forced him to look at his fears and what they’ve cost him. It’s a moment where he needs to stop letting fear control his life.

The last real private moment they had was a fight, filled with fear and anger. (That short apology in the middle of a battlefield was hardly private and could in no way make up for the words that were said.)

That last evening should have been a time filled with love. A memory to cherish. But now it’s a memory one would want to forget. And that was his own doing. It was not something out of his control, like “death”. It was his words and actions that tainted their time together. And what if that was the last time they’d seen each other, been with each other? What if that is his last real memory of them? The look of anger and pain and hurt on Rooks face, caused by HIM, by what he had actively said and done? I think this might be the first time he realizes that his fears take more from him, than death ever could.

Phobias and anxieties are not cured that easily, of course. I think in a way, they will always stay with him, to a degree. But I do think he had some important realizations that will put him on a path of growing. At least in regards of how he deals with his fears.

And then he found them. He found his Rook. They are back and they are alive. He can hold them in his arms again and how could he ever even think about turning away from them? They are a gift, a miracle, the deepest wish fulfilled. A wish he’d given up upon. Something he thought he would never have.

And then the last scene with the coffin. Okay here I go the Astarion route and I am absolutely convinced that that coffin is his. Of course he had planned all things in regards to his death. He had chosen the crypt he wanted to be buried in. And at that moment he took them there. The place that had been the mark of the final end, now the mark of the rest of his life. And Rook? Rook still wants him, after everything. They still love him.

When they pull him into a kiss? He doesn’t see the end of their time, but the start of the rest of their life together. That look on his face when Rook leads him to that coffin? This look of absolute vulnerability? I think, in a way, this is a first time for him. All open and vulnerable. All he is and feels no longer hidden away but cherished and loved. He will always fear loosing them, them loosing him, how could he not. But they are here and HE is finally able to truly commit. He is finally giving everything. He will always fear, but now love wins. Rook holds his heart in their hands, and he trusts them completely. He gives himself to them. He is theirs, forever.

Hell, that man breaks my heart in so many ways.

So what’s in store for them in the future? Sadly we do not get epilogue sliders for our LIs.

But those two I truly think are in it for the long haul. There will be many good days, filled with happiness and laughter and kisses. They will go on adventures, see the world, experience life together in its fullest.

There will also be bad days, when fear rears its head, and his chest hurts from the sheer pain it inflicts on him. But I hope he comes to a point where he is able to turn to Rook in those times, instead of pushing them away. Where he lets them comfort him, hold him, until this feeling loses its grip on him.

Those bad days will never diminish those wonderful days they have together, though. Just a rain cloud, hiding the sun for a day or two. And it can’t rain forever.

Then, when one of them finally goes on to their last journey, they will wait for their love. And when they are united again, they walk eternity hand in hand.

[jaal-ama-daravv]

You’ve done the deep dives, and considered a good number of elements in your study of Emmrich’s romance… so my question is… for a romanced Emmrich, of course…

At the point of making the decision, if Emmrich was making it autonomously, would he choose to remain mortal or become a Lichlord?

And why?

When I read this at 6:00am yesterday I sat like this for a good 20 minutes before passing out, contemplating -

And I think I have an answer for you.

Romanced Rook

With a romanced Rook, I think (and yes of course a developer, and RPG decision, but outside of that -) a romanced Rook x Emmrich and this decision is actually an important part of their dynamic. We think back to the graveyard scene, the one where you can discuss lichdom and commit to his romance. He specifically states that he will inform Rook before making any decision and gather their input, as Emmrich will consider a romanced Rook a 'close family member'.

I believe Emmrich is also looking for that validation. We know how 'fast' a romanced Emmrich and Rook can progress in their relationship because they are perceived outside of their relationship to be two fools in love. I think Emmrich is asking Rook as a form of, what do I do? What are you okay with? I think Emmrich may believe that Rook knows him better than he knows himself at that point in time. Rook mirrors his fears too. Emmrich has a fear of death, Rook a fear of failure.

All in all i think Emmrich seeks out Rook's advice because he loves them and I think that's important.

The Decision

This is quite a difficult decision, but if we look at the dialogue during each choice in that scene, I believe if Emmrich was making the decisons autonomously, he would choose mortality. I say this because when you choose lichdom as Emmrich's decision path, the reasoning for choosing it is "you are well equipped to deal with lichdom emmrich". I beg your finest pardon but in what universe is he well equipped. He did not in a mere FEW HOURS, get over the fear death. He could barely hold up the lantern untill Rook encouraged him and manfred showed him what courage is. I think pure love and courage that was shown to him would factor into his own decision. Additionally, if you choose the mortal decision of resurrecting manfred, he requires far less 'convinving' and Rook offers simple guidance, "oh ya know things maight be easier: compared to "youre well equipped do it".

All in all, I think he would, in his decision, choose mortality. Simply because Emmrich has his life now, his family, and he can see that. You can see that in the final boss fight with Hezenkoss. He chose to be courageous. Lichdom was his way to escape his fears, not transcend them in the name of love.

[vigilskeep]

harker, how old do you think all the companions are? I’m hc some age ranges (alongside official info), but I was curious to know what you’d think 👀

the canonical ones i know are that taash is youngest and mid 20s, emmrich is oldest and mid 50s, bellara is like 30 or just over, and lucanis (iirc?) is mid 30s

i would say neve is also mid 30s. harding must also be at the very least early 30s to have done the job she did in inquisition (i do think she is quite young in inquisition, i think it adds to her character)

who is the other one i always miss one with these crazy kids. oh davrin my friend davrin!!! hmm idk. not committed. if i had to guess i’d say thirty give or take a few years?? i’d buy him being the other one still in his 20s. he seems to Me like a guy who is actually relatively young but warden life & the warden lifespan, plus living on his own for a stretch, has made him seem older esp before you get to know him

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

Graven Hearts

After being unofficially banished from the Mourn Watch, rebellious Lisbette must recruit one of her former professors, Emmrich Volkarin, to help her defeat two ancient Elvhen gods. Hurt that her favourite professor never stood up for her when she needed him, Lisbette takes delight in provoking the handsome, silver-haired necromancer, perhaps enjoying herself a little too much.

Female Rook | Age Difference | Daddy vibes | low key bratting | Hurt/Comfort | Eventual Smut

Start with Chapter One

Chapter Two

Lisbette can’t sleep that night. She tosses and turns for a long time, before finally sitting up and glaring at the wall. Emmrich Volkarin is just through that wall, no doubt sleeping soundly. He probably wears striped pajamas and one of those long, tapering night caps over his perfect silver hair. 

Her lips twitch as she imagines it. What would he look like if she went in there and got into bed with him? Scandalised, no doubt. His nightcap might fall off. 

She sighs and flops onto her back. As amusing as it is to think about, she’d gotten carried away earlier that afternoon. She didn’t want to make the professor angry with her, or make him uncomfortable. She should have welcomed him to the Lighthouse, but instead anger had hijacked her mouth and she’d said and done all...that.

Lisbette couldn’t understand why. Probably it was a mixture of her anger and hurt toward the Mourn Watch and the fact that she’d always found Professor Volkarin to be particularly handsome and charming. Poking at him, teasing him, making him glower at her. It was better that he was angry with her than pity her. She doesn’t want his apologies for how the Mourn Watch treated her. If he tries to apologise, she thinks she might scream, or sob, or both. 

She reaches for his book, Alvarus’ Treatise on the Undead , and reads a few passages, idly turning the pages. She’s never read it, but the content is painfully familiar. It feels like her childhood. It feels like home. She ends up with the book clutched against her chest with both arms wrapped around it, her eyes closed against the tears that threaten to fall. 

She doesn’t miss the Mourn Watch. 

All right, maybe she does, deep down.

But no one was going to hear that from her. Ever. 

It has been a long, filthy day in the Hossberg Wetlands. Lisbette chose Davrin to come with her, because as a Grey Warden, he’s a natural choice for the area. Then she asked Emmrich to make up their third as a kind of apology she didn’t have to say out loud, because she thought he’d enjoy the gloomy atmosphere of the place as much as she did. 

After a particularly bloody and blighted fight, she and Davrin were filthy, but Emmrich was as pristine as when they set out. Dirt didn’t seem to want to cling to the professor.

‘Oh dear,’ Emmrich tuts, looking at them both. ‘Neither of you have learned dirt-repelling charms. I put them on my clothes every morning. The dead can be so messy.’

Despite the fact that she’s resolved to keep things strictly Fade-related and professional with Emmrich, Lisbette speaks without thinking. 

‘Dirt-repelling charms?’ she asks, wiping the back of her hand over her cheek. ‘I’ve never heard of those before.’

‘The principles are simple. I can tell you about them, if you wish.’

She eyes Professor Volkarin warily. He’s smiling pleasantly at her, and they have a long walk to their next destination. This doesn’t seem like a topic that concerns Watchers particularly, and so she cautiously nods. 

The two of them discuss the theory behind the charm and the mage who invented them, and Lisbette is surprised to find she’s enjoying their conversation. Professor Volkarin is a great deal less formal with her than he was as her professor. He’s animated as he speaks, gesturing with his staff and his hands, and adding a lot more personal opinion about things than he ever used to do. 

Then he says something that feels to Lisbette like tripping up and falling flat on her face. 

‘Vorgoth hasn’t been without a dirt-repelling charm since the incident with the ink bottles and the four playful spirits from the lower Necropolis.’

The playful spirits from the lower Necropolis. They’d been her friends when she was a child. They’d played spooky hide-and-seek with her, popping out of urns and chasing her around statues. She’d never been afraid back then. She hadn’t learned fear until very recently. 

‘Lisbette?’ Emmrich says. 

She realises he’s been talking and she hasn’t heard a word. ‘Sorry, I was...thinking about the Evanuris.’

But the professor isn’t fooled. He asks gently, ‘I think you’d rather not speak of that place. Am I right?’

Lisbette watches Davrin and Assan up ahead. Her pride is telling her to keep her mouth shut. No one from the Mourn Watch can know how much she misses them. It’s embarrassing. Shameful somehow. They turned their backs on her, and she won’t come scratching at the door like a pathetic stray cat.  

It was strange seeing the Necropolis yesterday after so long. The long corridors, decorative urns, and flickering veilfire had once been home to her. The most wonderful place in the world. 

‘It doesn’t matter. I won’t be returning there ever again.’

‘Ah, so I shouldn’t ask if you...’ He trails off and smiles. ‘Nothing. Never mind.’

They walk together in strained silence, Lisbette looking everywhere but at him. 

‘I find that long walks are preferable if there is conversation,’ the professor says in a cheerful tone. ‘Would necromancy in general be an agreeable topic of conversation for you, Lisbette?’ 

‘Yes it would,’ she tells him. ‘Very welcome, actually. The group tends to be disconcerted by the ‘death stuff,’ as they call it.’

‘The death stuff is weird,’ Davrin calls back to them.

Emmrich and Lisbette exchange glances, and Lisbette is surprised to find she’s smiling. 

‘People from outside Nevarra, they’re the strange ones,’ Lisbette says.

‘Burning their dead. Heartbreaking.’ 

‘So wasteful.’

The professor speaks eloquently about his corpse whispering, and the necromancer in Lisbette can’t help but be drawn into a technical conversation about souls and spirits. 

This is surprisingly nice, she thinks to herself as they walk along. As long as they don’t talk about the Mourn Watch, she’ll be happy to chat with the professor any time, and it was comforting speaking with someone who’s known her longer than everyone else in her life. 

Hours later, they're stepping back through the eluvians, and she feels as though she should say something to the professor. 

Saying sorry was too much for her pride, so she expresses gratitude instead. ‘Thank you for coming today. I liked having you with us. Me.’

‘I was pleased to be of service. Oh, dear,’ Emmrich murmurs, and plucks an invisible speck of dust from his pristine coat. ‘I fear I’m filthy.’

‘Bathing in this place is fine, but don’t you miss the-’ Lisbette breaks off. She was about to say, Don’t you miss the bathhouses at the Mourn Watch . 

She misses the bathhouses. She misses the friends she made, and the camaraderie of being with other necromancers. She misses being among people who uncomplicatedly like her. Who don’t look at her like she’s strange or wrong or is going to get them all killed, even if they have accepted their deaths. 

For a moment she can’t breathe, as if death itself has stopped her throat. 

Emmrich reaches for her. ‘Lisbette? Are you unwell?’

If he manages to put his hand on her shoulder, she’ll probably cry, and then he’ll look at her with pity, which is the last thing she wants from people who turned their backs on her. 

Lisbette shakes her head and hurries into the Lighthouse, grateful for her masses of curls that hide her face. 

--

Emmrich can’t remember the last time he felt this angry. The mission was a success and everyone was safe. Including Lisbette. Thankfully, especially Lisbette. She had fought remarkably, one might say even magnificently, facing down the horror that is Ghila’nain without flinching. He’d been inspired, even dazzled, in those moments.

But to punch the First Warden. 

This is not the behaviour of the thoughtful and compassionate leader who he’s been growing to esteem.

That night at the Lighthouse, everyone is congratulating Lisbette on her actions, praising them and even laughing about them. Only Bellara is silent, but her silence is uncertain. 

Emmrich leaves them to their laughter and retreats to his rooms. He needs tea. 

Later, he passes Lisbette in the library. 

‘Lisbette,’ he says with a polite incline of his head, because it’s bad manners not to greet her.

He is already past her when she calls to him, ‘Is that all you have to say, Professor Volkarin?’

There’s a distinct sass to her voice. 

Emmrich stops, and then turns around to face her. How best to proceed when faced with an angry young woman who is his senior in rank, however informal things are at the Lighthouse, but who he longs to dress down as though she was still his student? 

She’s not writing snarky little essays now. She could get herself killed. 

He clasps his hands behind his back and regards her with a grave expression. ‘We made an impressive stand at Weisshaupt, but I was taken aback by certain events of the day.’

Lisbette’s eyes glitter with anger. ‘Just say it. I shouldn’t have punched the First Warden. That’s not how a Mourn Watcher behaves.’

‘I am conscious of your feelings on the matter of the Mourn Watch and I won’t speak of them, as I have already told you.’

She was being entirely too sensitive about the Mourn Watch, but he would respect her wishes even if he didn’t understand them. 

She was being entirely too sensitive now as well. 

‘You don’t have to say it. Your disapproval is written all over your face.’ 

‘You are better than how you behaved today, Lisbette.’

Her eyes narrow, and she takes an angry breath. ‘And what gives you the right to decide that? You can’t form a council and pass judgment on me, and exclude me from all these people who’ve dared to call themselves my friends. If you’re so disappointed in me, Professor Emmrich Volkarin of the Mourn Watch, you know where the door is.’

‘Lisbette...’ 

‘I’m not interested in talking about it. Either you stay or you go, but you keep your opinions to yourself, and that includes your judgmental looks that I feel boring into the back of my neck.’ 

Well, that told him. Emmrich feels his moustache twitch in even greater disapproval. 

That night as he lies in bed, he goes over the conversation with Lisbette again. Just what happened to Lisbette when she was asked to temporarily depart the Mourn Watch? What council was she talking about? 

He gets out of bed and writes a letter to Myrna. 

Myrna’s reply comes back within two days. It includes a detailed description of the events of the civil war that pertain to Lisbette and her group of fellow mages. After the unrest had been resolved, Lisbette was judged in front of dozens of noble Nevarrans, not just the Mourn Watch, who were angry about the civil war and looking for someone to blame. There was not one word of acknowledgment, let alone gratitude, for the lives she had saved by intervening. The judgment was entirely focused on the fact that she had acted without anyone’s approval or permission. Lisbette did not speak up in her own defence, and no one from the Mourn Watch spoke for her either. 

Emmrich reads the letter through again and sighs. The Nevarran council sounded excessive, even cruel. He’d imagined that it had been gently suggested to Lisbette by the Mourn Watch that she leave until things settled down, and it had been a private, internal matter, but how wrong he was. 

Thank you for reading!

CHAPTER THREE

[emmg]

share your wips

lol sure, here's something from that Emmrich yapping smutfic (it's literally titled Emmrich yapping in my livingwriter folder) I'm almost done with. It's honestly more like smut-crackfic but eh.

----------

But Emmrich? Oh, bless his thoroughly misguided soul—he’s taking a slow, respectful tour through this grand gallery of bullshit, inspecting each piece with a quiet reverence. He stops at her latest acquisition, a truly horrifying thing she pulled out of a ruin, and leans in, one arm behind his back, the other half-extended yet never coming into contact. 

“I must admit,” he begins in that scholarly tone that always makes her wonder if he's actually part Chantry priest, part baffled academic. “I’m not entirely sure what this is, but the etchings… well, they seem to represent some sort of ritual…” 

She just stares at him. Then at the thing. Then back at him, waiting for the punchline. There isn’t one. 

She looks again at the monstrosity, which, upon further inspection, features two elves engaged in… well, anatomical exploration of the highest order. Carnal, no-question-about-it, “we’re about to break every surface in this room” kind of exploration.

“They’re fucking, Emmrich,” she says, completely deadpan, pointing right at where one elf’s face is very comfortably nestled between the other's legs. “Look. This one’s sucking that one’s—” 

“We cannot know for certain,” Emmrich interrupts, still managing to maintain that scholarly facade like he’s discussing anything other than ancient elf smut. “There could be multiple interpretations of—”

“—and here,” she cuts him off again, gesturing to where the two figures are now enthusiastically going at it from behind. “They’re doing it from the back.” 

"—or they are simply exploring— "

"—each other's holes," she says, because apparently this needs to be spelled out. "With their fingers," she adds, jabbing her own at the leftmost doodle. "With their mouths," she circles the middle with a flourish. "And their dicks—oh wait, look at that, it's two men. Nice. Good for them."

"Ah, well, physical love is a common subject in art," Emmrich replies, clearly deciding this is the hill he’s not going to die on today. He even flashes her a little smile. And, to his credit, he doesn’t flinch, just shrugs it off with all the grace of someone who has seen way worse and is already turning to the next piece of trash.

Now she’s feeling a little cheeky herself, so she glides after him, practically stalking his tall, oblivious form like a cat with a mouse. “And what’s your personal opinion on it?” she purrs, even throwing in a dramatic eyebrow wiggle for good measure. 

Emmrich doesn’t even blink. "It could use some color." 

Well. That’s one way to dodge the question. 

She’s circled him more times than a vulture eyeing a fresh carcass—always shameless, always bold, and always armed with a tongue sharp enough to slice through steel. Her touch a little too accidentally-on-purpose. Subtle as a sledgehammer. She’s practically made a sport out of it, finding the most absurd excuses to invade his personal space. "Oh dear, this carriage is sooo cramped," as if the three feet of empty seat beside her have mysteriously evaporated and the only logical solution is to plaster herself against him like an overgrown barnacle.

She’s barged in on his private reading time more than once, settling in as if she’s been invited. Even exploited his love for teaching, feigning breathless fascination with any and all mundane, dry subject. "Oh, Emmrich, you must show me how you conduct an autopsy! I simply have to see it with my own eyes! And oh my, your hands look sooo fetching inside that cadaver’s chest cavity, teehee.”

[lightan117]

Come back to me

**I needed my angst fic. Yeah, once again, I have no idea what is going to happen, and this is just what has been replying in my brain before I go to sleep, as I lie in bed. Angry and worried Lucanis over my Rooks well-being**

***Anyone else questions what happens when the healer is down in your party? Do you scream oh fuck or just chug a shit ton of potions until you notice there isn't any?**

**Btw, italics is Spite talking**

Warnings: Blood/Injury/Getting impaled/Angst/Near-death experience/violence/Necromancy coming in handy

Pairing: Lucanis x (F)Rook Mourn Watcher

~oOo~

Everything happened too quickly.

Hardly any time to react at all.

If anyone questioned Daisy after all was said and done, if she did it again, she would answer with a smile and a yes. There would be no guilt in her answer, as she wholeheartedly believed that the life of someone she cared about was worth ten times more than her own life. During times of war, there are always casualties. You never know when you will have a final breath or moment. Daisy promised everyone she cared about that she would do her utmost to keep as safe as possible to ensure everyone could still smile at the end of the day. There was enough sadness in the world. At the time, she didn't understand why fear had crippled her for just a moment. Lucanis can take care of himself along with Davrin, but she worries when her eyes notice the hidden mage. A feeling tickled the back of her neck, her hair stood on edge, and this wave of uneasiness washed over her like a cold bucket of water her bullies used to pour on her. What followed was a faint whispering she heard as a child while learning how to commune with spirits. Like an itch at the base of her skull, the words she couldn't make out, but it was a warning.

A warning that something was going to happen.

Two of her skeletons were already engaged, so she was the only backup for her team. With a wave of her hand, she sent a barrier over her comrades before sending a shockwave toward the hidden mage. He was flown back a few feet before suddenly he was pouched on by one of her skeletons. When she heard a shout, she turned to see that Lucanis was having a little trouble. Daisy moved in closer when suddenly a shadowy figure appeared a few feet behind Lucanis. The whispers she had heard were not about the mage—she wasn't listening—they were about the rogue. Now, they were yelling at her to move. Emmrich would scold her for not listening to the spirits, telling her how important it was to pay attention; such an apprentice move on her part.

Without thinking, she ran forward.

There was a sharp pain in her stomach. Daisy could make out a wicked grin that was moving, but the world went quiet. This loud hush deafened the world around her as this blooming pain continued to grow. She slowly looked down to see a dagger impaled through her.

Realization kicked in that she had taken the stab for Lucanis, the rogue standing in front of her with his other armed hand coming closer to her. When the second white hot, searing pain came, she quickly took hold of the rogue's arms, eyes locked with anger. The venatori, at first, was gloating about driving his daggers deep into her, but that gloating quickly wore off once he could start to feel the prickling of the air around him. "Despair." Purple, ghostly hands floated from around Daisy; fingers outstretched toward the man as waves of decaying stench flooded his senses. Fear gripped the man's chest as he released his hold on his weapons, cowering back at the sight. Strange laughing could be heard inside his head, causing him to scream, drawing the attention of Lucanis, who took the chance to throw one of his daggers into the man's eye socket.

Daisy fell to her knees as her breath came out in short huffs. There was a scream, and maybe someone shouted her name before Daisy felt her body suddenly go cold momentarily. The daggers stuck out of her as she continued falling to the floor. Her cheek met the ground, and the taste of iron flooded her mouth.

Sounds came and went as she continued to lie there for what felt like forever. Her thoughts drifted back to her life, her mothers, her friends, the spirits she's helped, to him...oh...why was she thinking of him like that now? Why could she see his face so clearly in her mind, this frown on his face for being so careless? He'd warned her countless times before to be careful, but why did it hurt so much now? He always said she should wear more armor under her robes or at least carry a dagger, but Daisy always said she didn't have to worry if he was around. Daisy's following thoughts were of her mothers with the same frown; they had told her to watch after herself and to contact them should she need anything. They would be so upset to learn how she died. She was dying, right? This is how someone dies?

"Daisy!" The voice was clear and harsh as she was brought into someone's arms. Above her was Lucanis, cradling her closely to him while being mindful of the blades sticking out of her. "Mierda...why did you do that?! You shouldn't have done that; I could have taken the blow." He hissed and tried to decide on the best course of action, but deep down, he was panicking. Lucanis Dellamorte doesn't panic. At this moment, he was. Oh, now you're worried about her? You keep denying that you don't have feelings, but here you are, losing your head. She's going to lose her head, too. She's dying. She's losing too much blood. Lucanis growled at the demon, its thoughts weaving around in his mind.

"I didn't want you to get hurt...just..moved when I saw the rogue appeared behind you." Daisy huffed out as she tried to calm her breathing as much as possible, but panic started to set in. "I've been impaled...spirits, it hurts."

"Lucanis!" Davrin had just finished the last vint when he made his way over to the pair. "Shit. Maker, that's not good."

"You think?! Give me a potion and some bandages." Davrin knelt and retrieved a health potion and bandages from his pack. "Drink this; it will slow the bleeding." Lucanis directed Daisy, practically forcing the liquid into her mouth. She struggled and fought him for a few moments before her brain caught up to what was happening before choaking what she could down. "We must get her to a healer or back to the Lighthouse. I cannot help her here." The blood from her wound was starting to seep between his gloved fingers as he did his best to stem the bleeding. Maker, it was everywhere. Lucanis worked desperately with the bandages around the daggers until Daisy found the sudden surge of energy to move her arms.

"Just pull them out; I can heal myself," Daisy said, but at a sudden movement, she cried out. Tears blurred her vision as she could feel the steal shift inside her. "Pull them out! Please!"

"We pull them out, and you will bleed faster." Lucanis cradled her jaw in his hands so that she would look at him. "Focus on me; you will be fine, yes?" Daisy nodded her head. Spite appeared on the other side of her, the demon glaring at Lucanis, his hands clenching and unclenching. Help her! YOU should have been watching her! Why weren't you paying attention, this is all your fault! "Quiet you!"

"There is a healing house not that far away. Do you think she'll make it?" Davrin asked as Lucanis got to his feet, jostling Daisy in his arms until he had a better grip on her. He winced at every cry that came from her mouth as he moved her but continued to push on. Spite was beside him, yelling at him to move faster.

"She must. I'll follow you." Lucanis nodded at Davrin to lead on; the pair took off. "Keep your eyes on me, Daisy."

"Not like there is anything better to look at. You're at least pretty to look at." Daisy joked with a huff that turned into a cough. Blood slid down her chin, her one free hand confirming it when she wiped what she thought was spit away. "That's not good, is it?" Lucanis said nothing but tried to pick up the pace behind Davrin, who was shouting at people to make way. "My head feels heavy, Lucan..."

Lucanis looked down to see Daisy's eyes start to close, so he gave her a good shake, even if it made her cry out in pain. "I'm sorry, Tesoro, but you need to stay awake. Talk to me." What's the point in saying such soft words to her? She's not going to make it. She's dying, you fool.

"What about? Noth' to talk about..." Daisy looked up at him; he looked so worried. She's never seen that worried look on his face except when they returned from his rescue when he learned about Caterina... "Why do you look like that?"

"Like what?"

"You look so sad." Daisy reached out with her free hand to touch him, her fingers slightly grazing his cheek before a sudden jolt caused her to cry out in pain. "You always look tired or angry, or you have this look, but you're never sad. When you smile...it's so much better."

"I am not sad; why do you think I'm sad?"

"'Cause I didn't listen. I even heard them warn me, but I didn't listen...shoulda listened...now you're sad." Daisy muttered as she looked up at him. "Spite probably is angry at me too...don't like making people upset."

"We are not upset, Tesoro, I promise you. He's yelling at me for not watching you."

"You were busy not getting stabbed as well. Not your fault. Spite...needs to back off for..." Daisy coughed another bloody cough, the iron taste making her want to throw up, "What does that mean?"

"What does what mean?"

"Tes, tes-o-ro-o? Tesro? Never heard that before. Never called me that." Lucanis tried to hide the shock with a smile and a cough.

"Maybe I will tell you once you are well enough to remember this conversation?" Lucanis smiled. Davrin called back to them, pointing to a door before rushing ahead. "We're here, Daisy; they will help you."

There was a flurry of shouts and demands that followed shortly afterward. Daisy was crying out weakly at every jostle of her body; the blades were barely staying inside her. The bandages did the best they could, but there was just too much blood. Daisy could feel the cold steel shift and move inside her with every twitch and movement. She thought someone was speaking to her, but her head felt so lightheaded and heavy that she couldn't understand some words. Daisy screamed when she was finally released from Lucanis's arms, one of the blades sliding out, followed by the other before they rolled her onto her side. There was more cursing and shouting, of course. Daisy just wanted the pain to stop.

"Please...someone...make it stop..." Daisy cried out, tears now freely falling as she struggled to breathe. Lucanis knelt next to her, taking her hand in his tightly. There was that look again; the panic and the worry all rolled into one behind his eyes. "Lucanis..."

"Hush, Tesoro. The healers will take care of you now. Please keep your eyes on me." Lucanis almost sounded like he was pleading with her, but that didn't sound right to Daisy. Why would he plead with her? She's the one causing the issues currently. He should be angry. Davrin should be angry, too. They all should be angry with her. Daisy could make out Davrin talking off to the side, but it was so much harder to hear. There were too many hands on her, pulling and tearing at her, fingers poking and prodding. A sudden rush of fear washed over her as her childhood memories replayed in her mind, the memories of the beatings she used to take as a child. The fear made her afraid, so she clenched her eyes tightly shut, trying to wield everything away, to make everything disappear. All the screaming they did, all the teasing and harmful words they told her. All the time, they would rip her clothing and call her a dirty whores daughter. "Daisy!" There was a call of her name so loud that she looked to see Lucanis even closer to her now. "Eyes open."

"I'm scared, Lucanis." Daisy whimpered as she gripped his hand tighter. Lucanis reached over with his free hand to brush back her hair, ensuring her ear cuffs were firmly in place so they couldn't fall off.

"I'm here." He gently whispered to her. "I'm here."

The poking and the prodding went on for what felt like forever. Daisy could lightly feel the healing magic wash over her, but she could barely feel it. Lucanis stayed by her side while Davrin was busy talking to the proprietor of the healing house, but they were getting a little bit heated. One of the aids to the healers suggested to Lucanis that he might want to step in before they would be forced to stop, whispering that the man in charge was a greedy bastard who didn't care if people lived or died here. Daisy squeezed his hand and told him to go. Lucanis nodded, asking the aid to take his place while he sorted out what was going on.

Daisy felt Lucanis leave, and a part of her wanted to call out, to tell him not to leave her, but she couldn't find the strength to. Her fingers and toes had long since gone numb, and she just felt so heavy. The bed beneath her was so soft and inviting that she didn't notice her eyes slipping close. The aid holding Daisy's hand looked at the healer with a grave expression before they turned their heads towards the doorway where her companions were not far away.

In the other room, Lucanis was going to murder the proprietor.

That is, if Spite doesn't gain control, does it. The rat-face man Davrin and he were talking to couldn't be the real person in charge; there wasn't a caring bone in his body from where Lucanis stood. Corruption was everywhere in the city they were in, but he didn't expect even a local healing house to charge people help before, let alone charge such prices. Davrin was starting to lose his cool when the comment of elves and other backhanded comments. The rat-face man went on about how, in these challenging times, they never knew if someone wasn't going to make it, so they 'changed' their policy that payment needed to be made upfront before anyone helped them.

"Our friend is dying in the next room, and all you care about is coin?!" Davrin got in close to rat-face, fits clenching as he stood firm like a brick wall. Davrin's gray warden stance towered over the man. "If she dies, you will not see tomorrow."

"You see, threats like that will only ensure your friend receives no help. Now, before I must kindly ask you to leave, do you have payment or don't you?" Lucanis could feel Spite beside him, the anger radiating off him like the pulsating headache coming on. If Sunshine dies, it will be on him, not you, which is no fun. Tell him to help her; he needs to help her. Lucanis glanced at Spite behind the man and felt a mutual agreement that should Diasy die, it would give him an actual reason to kill the man.

"You will receive payment once she is stable," Lucanis taking hold of one of his arms before he punched the man. The Crow moved silently in front of the rat-faced man, getting nose-to-nose with him. "And should she not survive due to your neglect, then I have no problem taking yours for her life." Before Lucanis could continue, there was a crash and scream from Daisy's room. The rat-faced man was pushed aside as Daisy's companions rushed to her side.

What they were welcomed to was the healer, standing over Daisy at the foot of the bed, healing her with a worried, scared look on her face. The aide was on the other side of the room and was getting talked down to a ghostly-looking woman. The woman was see-through like a spirit but didn't appear to be one. Another ghostly woman sat next to Daisy, her hand placed over Daisy's as if she could touch it. Daisy's face was paler now than it was when Lucanis left the room. "And who are you two?! Why is this hack healer not doing all they can for my daughter?!" The aide cowered and ran past the two men. The woman who shouted was a tall, heart-shaped face woman who held a certain coldness, but there was something...deeper to her. She was concerned, and her eyes betrayed her with how much. The woman kneeling next to Daisy was of a softer complexion.

"Who are you?" Davrin asked.

"I am someone you will do best not to continue to anger, young man. Now tell me why my daughter's heart stopped and what she is doing lying in such a state!" The woman moved closer, the stool in front of her passing right through her as she walked. The healer went to make a sound, but the woman rounded on her, telling her that until she was spoken to, she was not to stop.

"Her heart stopped?"

"I wouldn't be projected here if it didn't! Now, where is that rat-faced man I was told about?" The woman walked right through them and into the next room. Davrin went with her while Lucanis stayed behind, standing on the opposite side of Daisy. Looking at the woman, Lucanis could see that she was crying silent tears as her thumb stroked the back of Daisy's hand as if she could feel it.

"I thought she was silly putting that stone on Daisy's gift before she left. She told me that I would rather have her body back than get no notice. Seeing her like this...my sweet baby." The woman softly spoke, not really to Lucanis but not really to Daisy either.

"You are her mother?" Lucanis asked.

The woman chuckled sadly, "I helped raise Daisy. Valentina, the woman who just walked out, can be a bit standoffish regarding children and is not the warmest person to know, but she loves Daisy. It doesn't matter if they are related by blood or not." The woman moved to try brushing some of Daisy's hair to the side, but of course, she couldn't. Lucanis saw this and did it for her; the woman gave him a grateful smile. "What happened?"

"We were...fighting, and she stepped in front of me. She shouldn't have done that; I would be the one lying here, not her." Lucanis said. He could feel the guilt start eating him away as he continued to look at her, pulling his hands away. You always hurt others; it's always your fault. Look at her, dying.

"You must be important to her if she did that. I agree; she shouldn't have done that, but Daisy always puts others before herself. It doesn't matter if she gets hurt as long as everyone else is fine." The woman smiled softly at Lucanis. "Don't blame yourself. Just give her a stern talking-to once she wakes. Please sit; there is no need to stand." If she wakes, suppose she decides you're not worth talking to anymore. You almost got her killed.

"If she wakes," Lucanis whispered as he returned to the spot he was once at.

"She will; Valentina will make sure of it. Daisy never asks for help from us anyway; it's the least we can do for her." The woman watched him, her eyes flickering to the healer who stood firmly at the foot of the bed, arms stretched out. "Are you Lucanis or Davrin?"

"What?" This is interesting.

"Daisy sends me letters. Keeping me up to date with whatever she's doing. She mentions meeting...friends recently. From the list of names, I'm guessing you must be either Lucanis the Crow or Davrin the Gray Warden. I'm leaning more towards the Crow now that I'm looking at you." The woman softly smiled.

"Ah...yes. I am Lucanis Dellamorte. Davrin was the one who walked out." Lucanis could start to feel his heart hammer in his chest. "She's written about us?" Why is your heart beating so fast? She's talked about everyone else, not just you. You're not special; why would she find you any different than everyone else? Davrin at least showed that he cares, unlike you. Coward.

"Of course! Daisy hasn't stopped writing about you! Ah-I mean all of you! I am not too pleased about elven dead gods returning, but hearing about the friends she's made helps that she's looked after." The woman reached over to touch Lucanis to reassure him, and he swore he could feel some heat in her spectral hand. "Please don't blame yourself. Daisy will feel worse if you did."

"What does she say when she writes about...us? If I can ask?"

The woman's grin made heat rise to his cheeks. "Nothing grand, little bits of information. She's asked for advice on talking to...friends, but she's nervous about speaking out about certain feelings. Daisy has had a rough beginning, so connecting with others raised alongside the dead hasn't always been a strong suit here. It doesn't help that her mother never really gave her a talk about what to do in these situations. Spirits knows if I did, she would kill me." A wicked smile graced the woman's face. "Just don't tell her I've said anything to you about this. She hates it when I try to meddle."

"I promise, my lady, I will keep your secret."

"Good. I feel more at ease now that I've met you, Master Dellamorte. I know our girl is in good hands. When you can, you should talk to her about how you feel. You might just be surprised." The woman smiled a motherly smile at Lucanis, which caught him off guard. Caterina was never a caring woman; that is undeniable, as she never showed any caring affection towards him growing up. The woman in front of him helped raise Daisy, who has been nothing but kind and understanding since they met. Lucanis could see where she learned to smile so softly at others. Valentina then returned to the room, stating that nothing would impair Daisy's healer now that everything was taken care of. The woman looked at Lucanis and Davrin, saying that should the rat-face man give them any trouble, they were to contact her through the sending stone that was hidden in the charm Daisy attached to her ear cuff.

Then she was gone.

The other woman stood, gave them a bow, and then disappeared.

"Well...that was strange," Davrin spoke before turning towards Lucanis. "Who was the other woman?"

"A friend of her mother's, but she never gave her name. The other woman was Daisy's mother if you didn't figure that out."

"When she said daughter, I assumed so!" Davrin protested, his eyes then moving to Daisy. Some color had returned to her face, but not much. The healer, who had remained in the room the whole time, stopped healing to say that the immediate danger had passed. Daisy would still require healing in a few hours, but she would prepare a paste to put over the wounds in the meantime. "We should get washed up then now that she's stable."

"You go first; I will remain here until you do." Lucanis didn't even bother looking at the Gray Warden, his eyes never leaving Daisy's face.

"Alright. I'll also send a message to the others to inform them of what happened. Emmirch or Bellara could lend the healers a hand so that Daisy could be moved back to the Lighthouse sooner." Lucanis nodded his head, and Davrin left.

Now that it was just the two of them, Lucanis moved closer to Daisy. As his hand moved towards her, he noticed he was still wearing his gloves, stained with Daisy's blood. He removed them quickly, tossing them to the floor without a car. Lucanis double-checked that her earcuffs remained secured while gently brushing away stray hairs from her face. Her hand felt clammy on his own but didn't feel as cold as before, which was a good sign. He gently moved her hand to his lips, kissing softly on the back before resting his forehead.

"Come back, cara mia." Lucanis whispered softly, "Come back to me. Please ask me again what that word means. I wish to see you smile again at me, as greedy of a man I am." He kissed her hand again, eyes clenched shut as he felt the sting of tears. "Come back to me, I beg you."

~oOo~

*Some weeks later at the Lighthouse*

"I'm tired of this, grandpa!" Daisy yelled from where she lay on the sparing ring. Davrin and Lucanis are watching with amusement on either side of her, not even breaking a sweat from their training session with her. Emmrich was sitting not that far away, sipping tea while Manfred was standing behind him.

"Unfortunately, my dear, that is too bad. You are the one who decided to get impaled and worry everyone with your near-death experience." Emmrich said to her with an amused smile. Once Daisy was back on her feet, everyone had officially put their foot down, with Daisy not wearing more armor, let alone not carrying a secondary weapon. Davrin and Lucanis both volunteered to help teach her.

"They're going to kill me!" Daisy said, getting to her feet with a huff.

"Not if you don't keep your arms up!" Davrin shouted before rushing at Daisy again. She screamed before turning around and running away, taking shelter behind Lucanis.

It was going to be a long training session.

[vangbelsing]

Emmrich X Rook: First Meeting Prompt for DADreams

So this was made VERY quickly and it's so rushed because I wanted to get it out before the night is over soooooo it's not gonna be good🫠 Please forgive the pacing, it's so bad LOL but I was running out of time😭 I may even revisit this at a later date because this doesn't really get Alinas character across that well... Also the ending is pure projection because I am sleepy and cannot force myself to make this better. ANYWAY here's wonderwall

She had met him with a gaze one might expect from a pampered noble woman who had just lain eyes on a sack of grain, or a King looking at the common man who lived with means far more humble: utter indifference. She spared no thought nor consideration in her appraisal of the necromancer. A quick summation of his physical attributes was all she had done, and even that was hardly committed to memory.

His eyes met hers then, as if suddenly aware of the unimpressed stare that had been leveled at him. She anticipated the furrowing of brows, the downward turn of his lips into a look of displeasure or familiar scrutiny. Or perhaps even for him to simply turn his eyes elsewhere, disregarding her with the same indifference she had afforded him.

What she had not expected, however, was the swift quirk of his lips into a welcoming - perhaps even charming - smile. A gesture easily forced, though she noted the way his smile seemed to reach his eyes with all the warmth and decency to which she was so unaccustomed.

Few words had been spoken then, as necessity demanded swift action. At least, few beyond that which accompanied a sudden and... colorful introduction; mere formalities and what could have been described as a review of qualifications. Alina noted the way Neve had practically rolled her eyes at her for all but making Emmrich recite a resume while they had been under threat of attack.

Now that they were back at the Lighthouse and with no pressing concerns, as they had finished the debriefing, she assumed everyone would go about their individual business. Her hope was that she would make proper use of that feather bed after having done enough training and preparation for todays excursion to make even a veteran caffeinated lunatic wince.

Yet, no sooner than she had undressed from her armor into more comfortable raiment was there a knock at her door. And there he was, not even changed from the attire she had met him in, all smiles and proper conduct. She couldn't help the way her eyes blinked at him, the surprise in her gaze likely just as apparent as the raven hair that cascaded down her shoulders like waves of liquid midnight across a starless ocean of sky.

"My apologies, I hadn't realized you had already made yourself comfortable." Emmrich said with a soft and apologetic chuckle.

"Right." She replied, obviously taken somewhat aback by the necromancers arrival, "Did you need?"

The man lifted a hand, dismissive of the suggestion. "Oh, gracious no, I should hardly think to allow myself such impropriety as to impose so brazenly upon a new acquaintance. It's simply..." he paused, his slender fingers reaching to perch at his chin, his expression momentarily pensive, "ours was an introduction made swiftly, and with so little geniality. I would like to correct that."

Her head tilted to the side, a sliver of her black hair falling loosely in her eye. She appraised him warily, gauging his intent as if searching for something. He seemed to notice her perusal of features and smiled, the gesture catching Alina off-guard.

"I...see. You're fairly friendly, for one of your profession." She mused, resting a hand at her hip.

He waved an ornamental hand, seeming somewhat amused by her assertion. "One might argue those in my line of work may benefit from a little friendliness. The dead rarely respond well to hostility."

Her lip quirked upward, the ghost of a giggle escaping her throat. "When framed like that, I can hardly disagree."

She held her out then for him take, her pale skin now bare as opposed to the black leather that had adorned her body earlier. The armor that covered her was now replaced with a scarlet chemise, the satin fabric hanging over her shoulders loosely.

He mirrored her gesture, taking her hand gently, almost carefully in his own, the jewelry he wore jingling at the movement as it reached her skin, the contact of cool metal causing a slight shiver to climb her back. Her hand was far smaller than his, she noticed then, her eyes peering at the way her hand seemed practically engulfed in his hold.

His other hand, balled into a fist, shot up to stifle the sound he made as he cleared his throat, his face then taking a pleasant smile. "Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Emmrich Volkarin, very much pleased to make your acquaintance."

"My name is Alina, and the pleasure is mine, mister Volkarin."

"Please," he said, taking her hand in both of his now, "there's no need for that. Emmrich will suffice."

He then broke the contact, releasing her hands with just as much tenderness as when he had taken them, the shifting of his body causing his chains and bangles to clang and clink once again.

"And now that we have met more properly, I believe I should allow you to return to your rest. Today has been quite the trial, after all."

Alina nodded, "True enough. It was... eventful, to say the least."

"Quite." Emmrich replied softly, the mirth on his features betraying the calm of his voice. "And as such, I should bid you good evening. Though I hope we will have more opportunities to speak with one another in the future."

She gave him a small smile, courteous and slightly mischievous, "I'm sure there will be plenty of time to mingle whenever we aren't occupied with the occasional beheading of Venatori and the like."

"One hopes. I haven't properly introduced you to Manfred, after all... But, that shall have to wait." He gave a quick bow of his head, "Goodnight, Alina."

"Goodnight." She returned his gesture, if perhaps somewhat awkwardly.

At that, he had turned on his heel, hands clasped together as he made his way back down the staircase that led to Alinas quarters. She watched him walk briefly, observing the way he moved and noting the posture with which he carried himself before finally shutting her door.

She wasn't fully convinced that he warranted special attention, but perhaps she had been hasty to dismiss him so readily. Or, perhaps not. Time would tell, and for tonight, as far as she cared, the only thing that mattered to her was the feeling of her body sinking into her bed. Everything else could wait.

[hmserebusadjacent]

Beautiful

Thought I would post my own humble fluffy Emmrich x Rook story here too.

Emmrich x Trans Male Rook (Pining, longing, all of that lovely stuff)

A story in which an origami ship is made and two men grapple with the enormity of their feelings for each other.

Word count: 771

AO3 link

“It was the silly dream of a child, I suppose. To run away to sea…”

Rook had thoroughly drifted off into the mists of time, Emmrich could tell. Practised hands carried on folding the paper this way and that without the maker even having to look down to check his workings. The logical part of the necromancer’s mind wanted to study the paper folding so he might perfect the art before giving Rook a ship of his own.

But Emmrich’s heart was already lost in the other details of the man across from him, as it always seemed to be nowadays.

The way Rook used his nail to press the lines on the paper more firmly and flatten them, the subtle colour change at the end of his nails a hidden bloom. The hunch of the assassin’s shoulders but the lack of stress lines around his eyes and mouth, showing the war between his need to relax and his instinct to be on guard. The small little gap between the man’s lips that moved ever so slightly as he breathed in and out…

Emmrich idly wondered if Rook’s lips would feel as soft as he had often imagined they would…

“Still, it was a nice dream to have, even if it was foolish”, Rook whispered, shattering both the quiet moment and the deep concentration Emmrich had been pulled into. It felt like something had been drained out of him but had also been refilled anew during his quiet contemplation, and Emmrich had to resist the urge to sigh almost wistfully.

When he looked up to the assassin’s eyes to find the man looking at his folded boat, the necromancer acquiesced and looked downwards.

The boat was much like the others that Rook had made, with the pleasing little sails and the flap at the back that allowed the ship to stand up. But this particular paper was such a pleasing shade of green that it almost seemed to dance in the firelight, casting its own shadows much like Veilfire does.

“Beautiful”, Emmrich found himself commenting, permitting a warmer smile than perhaps was wise to twist his lips.

When the necromancer looked back up to Rook he was almost startled to see a blush dusting the assassin's cheeks, the man only holding his gaze for perhaps a second before he was looking away. The little cheeky smile that graced Rook's lips and the little cough he let out too in the aftermath had Emmrich's heart rattling out a sudden realisation.

Did Rook want to be described as beautiful? More specifically by Emmrich himself?

Oh shit…

By the time Rook looked back at Emmrich the necromancer was still trying to form words, and even Emmrich himself knew there must be a certain desperation to his gaze. Desperation to cross the gap, to bridge to something wonderful and new and joyously…alive.

What was worse was that Rook seemed equally torn, heart almost certainly racing in his chest over a dilemma that the older man dared to hope might be similar to his own.

Thankfully the assassin saved Emmrich from needing to formulate anything else that night, effectively ending the line of discussion when he gave a little wink and stood up.

“I've taken up enough of your time. I'll leave you to it.”

The assassin's face was still holding some of that desperate hope, creeping out behind the mask of joviality that was trying to stay fixed in place.

Even then, Rook wasn't done with inadvertently playing with the other man's heart, for his shy gesture of holding out the ship was enough to make Emmrich want to swoon.

“For you, if you'll have it.”

With hands that he desperately hoped weren't shaking, Emmrich reached out and plucked the ship from the waiting hands before him. He couldn't help but cradle both of his hands around the ship now as he brought it back to his lap, intent on protecting it like the treasure it was.

“Thank you…”, Emmrich almost whispered, somehow making the moment feel all the more intimate.

Rook merely offered a small bow, letting Emmrich see the smile on his face as he stood back up to his full height and then departed and melted into the shadows.

The moment Rook was out of sight and earshot, Emmrich Volkarin gently placed his head in one of his hands and let out the wanton sigh that had been building inside himself all evening.

“What am I going to do…?”, he whispered under his breath, the usually stoic necromancer lost in the midst of feelings he hadn't felt for nearly thirty years.

[queenmuzz]

Three Lies and a Truth

"So...Rook," Neve sits back, after lighting up her slender pipe, the smell of elfroot wafting and mixing with the scent of coffee and cinnamon. The entire group is lounging in the dining room, all of them winding down after yet another succulent meal. Emmrich's fiddling with one of Manfred's joints, Darvin is pretending not to notice Assam sneaking a bite of the cinnamon cake. Bellara and Harding are chatting about some plant they'd discovered in the latter's little garden. Taash is stretched out on one of the chaise lounges, busy digesting the hearty meal, and beginning to drowse off. And Lucanis? He's watching Rook from across the table as the scrawny man tears off another shred of cake and stuffs it in his mouth. It's amazing how much food the man can eat, and yet stay as wiry as a stray cat.

He turns his head to the right to face her. Lucanis has noticed that it's easier for him if you approach on his left, where his good eye is, as he doesn't have to turn his head as far to look at you.

"I was wondering," she pauses and takes a puff, "What happened to your right eye?" She notices that for an instant, he tenses up. Lucanis notices too, the way he flattens a crumb of cake between his index and thumb, "If it's not prying. Just curious." There's a moment of tenseness, and Lucanis swears he's going to shut her down, before one of his trademark grins pops up.

"Oh, it's not prying. In fact," He rolls the flattened cake into a ball then tosses it in the air towards Assam, who cheerfully leaps up to snap it up. "Let's make it a game. Winner gets the last of the cake, and the loser has to wash the dishes. I'll tell you, and you have to guess if I'm telling the truth."

Neve sits up, obviously intrigued, and Lucanis cannot help share the feeling. Milo has remained rather tight-lipped on what exactly he has done with the Crows. Viago seems to have grudging respect for him, even recommending him to Caterina to have him break him out of Ossuary. And Lucanis has seen how he fights. Like a rogue, he darts in, and blasts people with magic they don't expect, before darting back. You could hardly tell he's got a literal blindspot, the way he practically teleports across the battlefield, dodging blades, arrows, and magic. And yet, he must have made a mistake, once.

"You're on." She responds, and to emphasize it, she puts out the pipe with a quick ice shard.

Rook rolls his shoulders, as if to get ready for a fight and begins to spill his tale.. "So, Lord Divalos is holding a soiree, and one of his guests, a fop from Olais, is the target. He's apparently some sort of poet that all the ladies and men are going ga ga over. I'm not the one tasked with the hit, I'm working with Teia, to distract some of his fans, to make it easier for the actual assassin to get close. Turns out..." he pauses to pick his teeth with his knife, then uses the blade to check his reflection. Ah, I can see why Viago gets exasperated with him. Lucanis muses.  "Lady Divalos is one of his greatest fans. In fact, she's the one who invited him. So I got my work cut out for me to peel her off the guy's shoulders. Thankfully, due to my charm and my dashing good looks," he says with a grin as he takes one last glance at his reflection, before tucking his knife in its sheath, "and a little bit of liquid courage, I managed to convince her I was an up and coming Antivan poet, and even 'recited' some of my own poetry that I made up on the spot. It worked so well, the next thing I knew, she and I were in her private quarters, busy ripping off our clothes." Lucanis notices that Harding and Bellara have stopped their botanical conversation and are now sucking up the tale, with the latter covertly taking notes.

We're both in bed, about to make mad passionate love when BANG!" He slams his fist down, causing everyone to startle, save for Taash, who is beginning to snore. "The door slams open, and a red faced Lord Divalos rages in, screaming at me, with his sword drawn. Now of course, I'm as naked as the day I was born, so I'm running around the room, avoiding his swipes as I manage to get my pants back on. Unfortunately, he got me good in the eye before I could get my weapon, and all I could do was topple off the balcony into a bush, and climb out of the premises." He grins sheepishly. "Thankfully, the whole debacle caused enough commotion that everyone was distracted by the spectacle, and no one noticed the poet had… accidentally strangled himself with his own silk scarf…”

He smiles with pride as Darvin rolls his eyes, and Emmrich sighs sadly and as the dwarf and elf are wide eyed in amazement.  “So, Neve, truth… or lie?”

It takes Neve a remarkably short period of time to give her answer.  “A lie.  Even without your weapon, as a mage, you could have cast a simple spell to disarm him before he reached you.” Milo gives a sad smile.  “Correct.”  This results in a couple of ‘Awwws’ from the girls, and an inquisitive hiss from Manfred, whose now had his spine realigned and now is participating in his own way in the conversation. 

Lucanis could have called him out without using any detective logic.  There is no Lady Divalos.  Everyone knows Lord Divalos has been happily married to Lord Divalos-Cuttenberg for decades.  

Milo cocks his head back at Neve.  “Want to double your luck?  If you answer this correctly, both today's and tomorrow’s dishes are the wager.”

Neve smirks as she crosses her legs, waiting for him to begin.

“So, there was a brash young up and coming Crow.  House Valsti, if I remember.  He went by the name of Tusino, but always wanted to be referred to as ‘The Silencer’ because he was so quick and efficient with his kills.”  Milo rolls his good eye, obviously not impressed at the title. “So we’re in the bar, and he’s getting drunk and starts boasting about how great he is at the three m’s: Maiming, Murder and… Mating.”  Manfried gives a quizzical hiss, and Emmrich mutters to him that he’ll explain later while Harding stifles a giggle. “Everyone at the bar is getting pissed off at him.  So eventually I speak up and go ‘Oh really?  For a guy who calls himself The Silencer, you never seem to shut up.  Oh that caused him to lose it.  He starts taunting me, telling me I’m weak ‘cuz I’m over reliant on my magic.  So, I challenge the shitheel to a fight, no magic, no weapons, just our fists.  Tables are cleared, bets are placed and we’re in the middle with the bartender acting as the referee.  We’re throwing punches, he gets a few good hits on me, I get a few good hits on him, there’s cheering and jeering, and finally I get a great left hook that breaks his nose.  The asshole can’t take the blow to his ego, so before anyone can react, he grabs a bottle by the neck, smashes it on a table and… uh…” He looks around as everyone aside from Neve, Lucanis, and Taash, now drooling and completely dead to the world, winces.  He smiles reassuringly, “Thankfully, breaking that rule turned everyone against him, and even the House Valsti Crows started beating his ass as I got dragged to the healers. They managed to save most of my good looks, but  Viago still reamed me out for that one” He looks at Neve, “so, what’s the verdict?”

She rubs her chin for a few moments before declaring “A lie. Logically, once he took out a weapon, you were free to hit him with the closest weapon at hand, and someone of your magical prowess would never pass up an opportunity to use it.”

“Awww… thank you for the compliment” he smiles again at her, “and you were correct.  Although Tusino did exist, and had he actually been good at his job, we might have come to blows eventually, instead of him getting trampled by the Antaam.  What an idiot” he mutters.

Lucanis also had deduced it was a lie.  The three scars that go across from the center of his forehead, across his eye, and into his right cheek look far too regular in spacing to be the shards of a bottle.

“Last one, winner takes all.  Three nights of dishwashing, are you up for it Neve?”

“Hit me.”  Even Darvin is paying apt attention now that Assam has begun to doze off at his feet. The girls are hanging on to every word Rook says.

“So, before I joined Viago’s outfit, I was still in training, and trying to impress the ladies and the men with my knife work.  He pulls out the blade again, and twirls in between his fingers, almost mindlessly, like he’s doing a coin trick,  the light of the fireplace reflects off the blade, casting sparks of reflection as it twirls faster and faster between his fingers, before being tossed in the other hand. “So, I decided to do a little magic show, without the magic and began to do more and more elaborate  tricks with my knife, like I was a juggler.  Turns out, I miscalculated a single toss….” and at moment, he tosses the blade up with a flourish, but makes no motion to catch it.  Everyone’s hearts stop as the blade falls, panicking as he continues to not  react, only restarting  as the blade lands in front of him with a THUD, and embeds itself in the wooden board.  This time, EVERYONE winces. Even Neve.  Either of the implication of the pain, or the second hand embarrassment of imagining how he must have made a fool of himself.  All of them cringe…. 

Except for Lucanis.  He just frowns.

He yanks the blade out of the table, smooths the wooden splinter and utters a soft apology to the table.  He smiles softly, and resheathes the knife.  “So, last one…. Truth or Lie?” “Hmmm” Neve muses before calmly stating, “Truth. That sort of overconfidence would be like you, when you were younger.  The eagerness to prove yourself to the world, and others, and most importantly, to yourself.”

Her words hang in the air like elfroot smoke, drifting over to Milo, who observes her passively. “Neve… it was… the truth.”  His trademark grin that Lucanis finds so endearing returns, but not fully.  It doesn’t reach his eyes, not even his good one.” “HA!” the detective laughs as she swipes the plate and waves goodbye. “Have fun with the dishes!” he hears her say as she leaves the dining hall.  She’s followed by the others shortly after, with Bellara still taking notes.  The only ones left in the hall are Milo, Lucanis, and… Taash, now snoring loudly.  

Milo sits still, his gaze focused on his knife, a frown on his face that does not suit him at all, Lucanis thinks.  

“You lied”  It's less an accusation, more a statement.

Milo looks up and at him, his face unreadable.

Lucanis continues.  “I may not know much about you, Rook, but I’ve seen how you work.  You don’t go flashy unless you know for certain that you’ll come out on top.  Something like that is out of character for you, even as a braggartly teenager. So,” he leans forward, whispering conspiratorially “What’s the truth?”  

A strange emotion passes over Milo’s face, as he seems to struggle.  Lucanis hasn��t seen him like this before.  He’s always cocky and selfsure, even before the most dangerous enemies.  He opens his mouth, and closes it.  Opens it once more, and utters one word…

“I…”  he pauses and his hand clenches around the hilt of his dagger, his knuckles turning white. He refuses to look at Lucanis, almost as if he’s ashamed.

“I made a mistake.”  The effort it takes to say this seems to exhaust him.  Lucanis waits for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t say anything else.  Eventually he looks up into Lucanis’s eyes and just sounds broken, as he rasps “Don’t ask me… please”  There’s a pleading in his voice, something timid and scared, like a lost child.  This is a side of Milo Lucanis hasn’t seen, he’s pretty sure none of the rest of the crew, hell even Viago has seen.  He nods, and something happens to Milo.  A door slams shut, and his eyes light up as if nothing has happened.  His trademark smile returns with the incredible brilliance that Lucanis has always admired.   If he didn’t know better, the way Rook’s personality just switched, the man must be possessed. “Welp, these dishes won’t wash themselves,” and he begins to stack the plates.  Lucanis pushes back his chair, standing up in order to help, but Milos waves him off. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it, you made all of this for us, you deserve to rest.”

“But surely you could use a helping hand?”

“This burden is mine and mine alone,” he cheerfully explains, and Lucanis isn’t sure if he is talking about the dishes… or something else. .

The young crow begins carrying the dishes to the back room to wash up, whistling the entire time, but pauses at the threshold, turning to face him.

“But… Thank you for the offer.  It’s sometimes very hard to remember that I don't have to handle it all alone.”  And with that, he vanishes, replaced with the sound of whistling and splashing water.

In the corner, there’s a hollow thud, and Taash’s hand slips off their chest and falls to the floor.

[shouldaspunastory]

For @a-song-in-the-stillness and @dadrunkwriting

Tobias Rook x Emmrich Volkarin, (SFW, A-spec character, established relationship, communication, comfort) 890 words

----------------------------------------

Tobias Rook sighs softly, shutting the book they've been trying and failing to read. They're simply too tired and unable to concentrate to absorb it now, they’ve been reading the same blighted sentence over and over again for at least the last ten minutes, but neither can they seem to get any sleep, instead they rise from bed and gently pad out into the now silent living space most of their companions already retired for the evening and quietly begin boiling some water, hoping perhaps some of the tea blends Emmrich makes will help lull them to sleep, before startling slightly when they encounter the man himself.

Emmrich pushes himself up out of the chair he’s occupied, setting his book on the table as he steps into the open kitchen, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smile. The necromancer rests a hand for a fleeting moment upon the elf’s shoulder. It’s simple gesture of camaraderie that lights the place where Emmrich’s hand rests and Tobias’ heart aflame.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Emmrich asks softly with a sympathetic smile.

They shake their head. “I was hoping maybe there was still some of that loose leaf tea you made me yesterday,” the elf admits with a shy smile.

“Of course.”

Emmrich moves easily through the kitchen, fetching the kettle, two cups and the tea from its place in a drawer. While it steeps, he glances over at Tobias, studying them with a kind of quiet concern.

“Bad dreams,” he guesses with a touch of empathy in his voice.

Tobias slides into a seat at the table and bites their lip, staring hard at their hands in their lap as Emmrich pours the tea for them both, the elf trying hard to figure out just what to say and how best to go about saying it.

“Just a lot on my mind,” the elf replies finally with a small frown.

Emmrich nods, not immediately pressing for more. The necromancer is nothing, if not curious, about everything, Tobias knows, but he is also unfailingly patient.

“I-“ the elf begins before immediately closing their mouth once more and shaking their head. Emmrich stirs a generous spoonful of honey into one of the cups before placing it gently in front of Tobias and taking the seat beside them.

“If you’re having second thoughts,” Emmrich offers quietly. Tobias shakes their head.

“No,” the elf replies immediately. “No, it’s not- I- I’m worried that you will,” they confess softly.

“What,” Emmrich barks out on a laugh, clearly finding the very idea preposterous, before the necromancer seems to realize how very real the concern is for Tobias and sobers slightly. “Talk me through it,” Emmrich encourages softly with a nod.

“Well, it’s just… we haven’t-“ Done anything more than kiss, Tobias thinks, trailing off, blushing. Creators, they’re not a child, talking about this shouldn’t be so damn hard, should it? Except that Tobias has never had a relationship like this, never had anyone they wanted to share themselves with like this before. They’re not ashamed of what and who they are anymore, but…

“I haven’t made you feel pressured, have I,” Emmrich asks concerned, “because, if I have-“

“No,” Tobias quickly shakes their head again. Emmrich has been nothing but a gentleman, attentive and sweet. “No, you haven’t. I just-“ the elf draws in a shaky breath. “I’d hate to disappoint you,” they confess quietly.

“Oh, Little Bird,” Emmrich whispers, gently reaching across the table to cover the elf’s hand with his own. “You couldn’t if you tried.” Tobias’ lips twitch offering an attempt at a smile, but the fact the elf’s brow remains somewhat furrowed doesn’t escape the necromancer. “Darling, I’m an old man,” Emmrich smiles patiently, shaking his head. “Whatever doubt has wormed its way into your mind, I promise you I’m not holding my breath for some physical benchmark in our relationship or walking around frustrated or resentful. Nothing we’ve done or shared has disappointed me. And,” he continues as Tobias starts to open their mouth to protest, offering the elf’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “no part your body could either. If you decide you’re ready for something more, I only pray I don’t disappoint you.”

The elf fights back the water that rushes to their eyes, the relief they feel that this isn’t a component of their relationship until they decide that it is, that Emmrich isn’t bitter sex isn’t one the many things the two of them share yet. The idea that they can have this, touches, kisses, cuddles, that it doesn’t have to- that it doesn’t mean they are somehow teasing or promising anything more. That they can enjoy them for their own sake. That Tobias and Emmrich’s relationship can be what they decide and at the pace they dictate. It’s everything.

“Could you-“ Tobias hesitates, and Emmrich gently strokes his thumb encouragingly across the back of their hand. “Would you mind sleeping in my room tonight,” the elf asks softly. “I-that night I got injured and you stayed with me… I’ve never slept so well as I did holding you,” they confess.

“Neither have I,” Emmrich smiles fondly, lifting their hand up to his lips for a kiss, whisking their cups to the sink with a wave, before following them back to the elf’s room, his hand intertwined with theirs.

[fatale-distraction]

For the writeblr ask game!

🧥 warm coat: share a happy or fuzzy scene from your wip!

Alas, two Warm Coat requests and all my current WIPs are about getting railed by Elgar’nan or dead shit with Emmrich.

Prompt list here!

Here’s an excerpt from a little prequel fic about my first Rook, Abigail Ingellvar and some of her first interactions with Emmy pre-Veilguard. Abigail is awoken by an alarm in the Necropolis indicating that someone is wandering around who shouldn’t be. She goes to put the culprit back where they belong and finds the confused spirit of an elderly man who thinks he’s late for a ball. Abigail calms him by explaining he’s already been to the ball tonight and offers to escort him home, without mentioning his death some centuries earlier.

"Oh…" the spirit faltered as they approached the wrought iron gate surrounding his crypt. His eyes passed over his family name engraved in the arched stone above. "I see…Yes, I remember now. Oh, Miss Ingellvar, I do apologize…"

Abigail unlocked the door and held it open, hastening to assure him. "That's quite alright, Mr. __. It's what I'm here for. I hope you at least had an enjoyable walk this evening?"

He gave a hollow laugh and preceeded her into the tomb. Abigail dusted off his sarcophagus and pushed the massive stone slab aside with a grunt. Inside, she pulled back the yellowing sheet that covered his preserved bones. Mr. __ climbed in obediently. It was an unecessary courtesy. She could just as easily have slammed and locked the door behind him, but Abigail always took such personal care of her charges.

"We'll get you a new shroud, I think…" she murmured as she shook it out and carefully spread it back over him. "This one is getting a bit thread-bare again…"

"Thank you, Miss Ingellvar," Mr. __ said as she tucked the ends in neatly.

"There," she dusted her hands off on her nightgown. "Sleep well, Mr. __."

"You know," he smiled at her. "I believe I just might."

Abigail returned his smile and pulled the lid of his tomb closed, bare feet braced against the cold floor. She dusted herself off one final time before exiting the crypt, closing the heavy iron gate and locking it behind her.

"Miss Ingellvar," a voice startled her, in spite of its familiarity, and she whirled with a soft gasp. "That was very kindly done."

Emmrich Volkarin, fully and impeccably dressed even at this late hour, stood at the turn in the path, holding a Veilfire lantern aloft and directing a gentle smile her way.

"Mr. Volkarin," Abigail breathed, hand at her chest. All at once, she realized how insubstantial her nightdress was. Fine silk and lace, but worn so thin even the dimmest light shone straight through. She crossed her arms over her otherwise bare chest with a self-conscious flush that Emmrich didn't seem to notice. If he did, he was ineffably polite about it. "You gave me a fright."

"I should think I'm the least frightful thing creeping about the Necropolis at night," he joked.

"Perhaps not the least…" she quipped, though her eyes were still wide with shock, breath still bated.

He gave a good natured laugh as he approached, offering his arm to the smaller woman. "Perhaps not. Still, I hope you'll allow me to escort you back to your rooms? It's dangerous to wander about unaccompanied, even for the Mourn Watch."

Abigail slipped her hand through the crook of his arm, cursing herself that in her haste she hadn't thought to at least take her wrap. She was long accustomed to the chill of the Necropolis, but it would have offered some bit of modesty at least. To Emmrich's credit, he kept his eyes above her neckline without appearing obvious about it.

"Oh, no one this close to the surface is likely to trouble me," she protested. "They're all very well behaved on this level, and I didn't feel much like tracking down the pair who are supposed to be on guard this evening."

"I shall have a stern talk with them in the morning."

"Not too stern, I hope," Abigail said, giving him a shy smile. "They're certain to be quite tired, afterall."

Understanding dawned on the older man's face. He suppressed a smile. "Ah. Nevertheless, amorous activities are hardly an excuse for abandoning poor Mr. __ and our other dear guests to their own devices."

[elinaline]

Thinking about the companions in Veilguard and I think, even though they're really lovely and overall pretty well written, what bothers me is how genuinely politically correct it all is. They're all level headed professionals who immediately get a grip of themselves after expressing some doubt instead of being at each other's throat. The most serious addiction you'll find in the team is to. Coffee. No raging alcoholic coming to terms with the fact he came from a fascist society and is kind of an ass but being unable to fully shake off the twenty years of trauma from his abusive wife and the caste system. No belittling a dangerous and learned mage because of racism even though she found herself having to massacre her entire clan after they thought she'd killed their leader. Not even a Single slur thrown at the elves or the Qunari. In northern Thedas?? The slavery is a longstanding tradition and the knife ears are so easy to control part of the world ??? The most conflict we get is "oh but you've been unwillingly grafted to a demon what if he gains control ?- and what about you carrying the Blight when it's controlled by the very gods we're trying to kill ?-I'm sorry that was mean I'm gonna cool down -yeah me too my b." Everyone is way too level headed when they all have reasons to be at each other's throat. Bellara should be screaming at Davrin of how uncanny it is that he is so undisturbed by all they learned about the elvhenan and the evanuris, Davrin should at least once try to restrain Lucanis, Lucianis and Neve should openly hate and distrust each other she's a cop and he's an assassin ! Everyone should be weirded out by Emmrich way more than just the first five minutes. There should be conflict between Harding and Taash because what if she's a Ben hassrath, and Lucanis and Taash because really what difference does it make to be invaded by the Qunari or the Antaam. Like shit dude, the world, that has been killed a thousand years ago has been actively ending for the last twenty years which is most of their lives. They've had news of the fifth blight, then there's been a major worldwide conflict between the mages and the templars that lasted for years, then the fucking veil started to break apart ! For the last decade, the Qunari have spied and tried to control the world, the Vetinari have done insane amounts of violence especially on elven people, Orlais has toyed with the idea to expand, the Divine has changed and the foundations of several of the major religions in the world have been shaken. Everyone is too calm and measured, which is very surprising from a BioWare game tbh.

[landgraabbed]

starting to close off the companion quests. mostly because i want to see how i feel as i do them. so far.... eh?

harding. we met the shade that's been calling out to her. oh it's just a pissed off titan shade thing, oh no! btw, look at this giant titan in the distance. btw, you are inside a titan, we will inform you of that a million times in this short quest! nevermind that you figured that out around the time you arrived at the bastion of the pure back in the descent dlc of inquisition without anyone telling you shit! you're too stupid to figure that out now. if she honors the justified anger of the titans for what the elves--solas--did to them she will lose herself (bad!), or she can remember she is very demure and mindful and she'll be good! wow! i feel like this companion quest ties the most into the main quest with the whole lore dump, but nothing comes of it. sad. also what is the deal with the kal-sharok dwarves? wouldn't you like to know, weather boy, we were talking shit about how they changed to adapt to the blight to make you think this is deeper than it is. wow!

lucanis. saved caterina, exposed illario. nothing to write home about; he got his revenge, he dealt with illario. nothing to be gleaned from such a simple scenario. i think because i saved minrathous he automatically imprisoned illario. i wouldn't do that differently tbh. he didn't become a hero of the veilguard. and if that's because he's hardened.... i don't like that. i like the fact that a choice i made has a real impact on the commitment of my companions, but if the rumors i heard are true about it being tied to you doing all treviso quests if you saved minrathous, then it is truly tied to being hardened. which used to be related to companions' outlooks on life and not a "you prioritized something else in the contrived choice scenario we forced on you, feel bad" failure state kind of thing.

bellara. more ancient elves lore, ft. the forgotten ones--one of the most obscure parts of the lore so far. we could have explored more of the relationship between the evanuris, forgotten ones, and fen'harel's rebellion. from the sounds of it, it sounds like it was a free for all; but nope, it was grossly underutilized. anaris wants a physical body--for what, it is rather unclear. based on the circle codices it may tie into those from across the sea, who seemingly have everyone terrified to the point they retreated to thedas in ancient times and may or may not have lead to the creation of the qunari. could be interesting were this not tied into the fucking evil shadowy cabal ending that spits on all previous work. once again the dalish thing has a choice to either salvage more elven lore and risk uncovering dangerous information (because only elven culture has done bad shit ig, unlike every other people in thedas) or let it be, the less we know of our shitty ancestors who were all shitty and not largely a people ruled by tyrants, the better. besides, the dalish were always dumb to figure it out, because after being oppressed and persecuted by the evanuris, tevinter, orlais, and most other societies in thedas, the dalish got things wrong. silly! but remember, the writers REALLY wanted the dalish to have a win in this game :) my heart says keep the archive but there are no consequences and i prefer the drip of the other choice, so i picked destroy.

emmrich. quick! we need to find a way to create a forced binary choice at the end of this companion's questline! let's let manfred talk and also he's going to sacrifice himself! now emmrich has to choose between his kid and his lifelong dream of becoming a lich. other than that i liked the quest, probably because my rook was a mourn watcher and had more content. more complexity than the other companions, but still very little going on. because regardless of what you pick, emmrich IS going to have to come to grips with his fear of death, eventually. if he doesn't, well. he'll die eventually, and people will die around him regardless. if he becomes a lich, he will have to risk dying to achieve lichdom, he will see people be born and pass away time and time again. i picked lichdom. ghost thinks they're cool, and she figures that hey, at least he will be immortal in the battles to come. he will become a gentle usher and a living monument to his loved ones. btw the giant skeleton is "we have high lord wolnir minus the bling at home".

taash. not touching that shit, sorry taash! you won't become a hero of the veilguard! they came out to their mom and got a hot gf who smells nice in harding. 10/10