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lkblackham · 1 month ago

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I want to update No Time To Apologize. But unfortunately it's Yearly Review Season over at my university. So I will content myself with this very sad but also very fluffy fic I wrote (very slowly and sporadically, over the course of several weeks) and illustrated instead.

There's a lot of hugging in it, which I think we could always use more of, even when the world isn't on fire.

I also would like to mention that I very accidentally wrote this right around the time @dragonracer's fic, The Moments Between, came to a very similar point in their story with their most recent chapters. It's really really REALLY great and it destroys my heart and makes me sob uncontrollably and I highly recommend it.

Read mine below the cut or on AO3. But also read The Moments Between. Very important. They actually have, like, a consistent long-form story. I just randomly drop chapters as it occurs to me.

It was a bright, sunny day in the Crossroads. But then again, it was always a bright, sunny day in the Crossroads, at least in Haven.

“Looks like the Antaam have mostly cleared out,” Atash remarked, shielding her eyes from the sun as they walked through the deceptively serene tropical landscape. “Think we scared them off for good, or they’re just waiting until we stop checking?”

“Until those who control them are gone, I imagine they’ll continue in their attempts to take the Crossroads for the gods.” Emmrich’s thoughtful voice drifted over from where he knelt nearby, closely examining a group of ethereal green butterflies fluttering about a small tree. “But there have certainly been fewer of them as of late.”

“I’ll bet their resolve’s breaking.” Bellara declared. “They never liked being in the Fade, and they really didn’t like working with the Venatori. Now the Dragon King’s gone, and the Butcher’s losing steam, I’ll bet most of them are jumping ship. Only the really crazy ones are staying.”

“You know, you might be right there.” Atash said thoughtfully, stepping through a particularly thick patch of shrubs covered in pink flowers. “But I feel like officially saying that out loud might jinx it, so we’ll stick with ‘they’re just regrouping’ for now.”

“Wise words, in such a place.” Emmrich reappeared at Atash’s side, but was clearly ready to bolt off again at any moment. He never seemed to tire of their journeys through the Crossroads, even if they walked the same paths over and over again. It was a bit like walking with a child down an alley of sweet shops.

Atash didn’t mind. She quite enjoyed traveling with Emmrich and Bellara. After traveling with so many hardened travel veterans like Varric and Lace, it was refreshing to be around people who got so excited over everything. Even if she didn’t understand half of what they said, despite being a mage herself.

Bellara halted ahead, causing Atash to nearly crash into her. “Rook,” she said, voice tense, “there's someone big up ahead. Behind the trees.”

Atash looked to where she indicated. Hidden behind a jumble of thick green foliage, she could see a large, hunched figure shuffling through the shadows, about ten meters or so ahead. Squinting, she could discern the outline of a Qunari with flat-filed horns, arms bound together at the hands by thick metal cuffs, chains dragging in the dirt.

She felt her heart drop.

“That's-”

The figure raised their head, suddenly made aware of their presence. Sunlight glinted off of the eyeless golden mask obscuring their face, ears twitching. They rose to their full height, and Atash felt the energy rush around her towards them as they rose into the air, curling their limbs into their body.

In a beat, she grabbed Emmrich and Bellara and dragged them back, Fade-stepping through the air as far as she could go before the chained Qunari mage released the power he had gathered.

She managed to get them away from the worst of it, but not far enough to escape the blast radius completely. She had the presence of mind to release Emmrich and Bellara, pushing them clear of her as the blast caught them.

They were thrown several feet forward, Atash landing face-first into the mercifully soft sand. Ears ringing, she quickly scrambled to her feet, looking around for her companions.

To her relief, they hadn't been thrown too far, or too hard. Bellara was already on her feet, bow at the ready, and Emmrich wasn't far behind, brushing himself off as he whirled his staff around into a defensive stance.

Atash turned back towards the origin of the explosion.

The Saarebas.

��He was now some distance away, a large, hulking figure kneeling on the ground, hunched over his bound arms. His blast had decimated the plant life around him, flattening the trees and shrubs, dislodging massive rocks from the dirt, creating a small crater in which he now knelt.

If they had been caught in that blast, they would have been mush.

Atash stretched out an arm, wordlessly telling Bellara and Emmrich to stay behind her.

“Rook-” Emmrich started.

“Wait.” She stepped forward cautiously, eyes narrowing as she looked around. “Where's his Arvaarad?”

“His what?” Bellara's voice chimed.

“Arvaarad - leash holder.” Atash took a few more cautious steps forward.

The Saarebas didn't move. She could see his broad shoulders rise and fall with his heavy breathing, the slight tremor in his muscles. He wasn't crouched, ready to spring up into another attack - he was sunk to the ground, arms limp, head bowed.

Exhausted. Depleted.

She could tell that he heard them, though. His ear twitched, and he had tilted his head ever so slightly in their direction.

But there was no sign of the Arvaarad. And as Atash moved closer, she could see the ring on his collar, where his leash would be attached, was broken. He had no leash.

He had no Arvaarad.

Atash halted, still a good ten feet away from the Saarebas. He didn't move.

“... Saarebas?” She ventured.

Still no movement.

“I am Vashoth.” Atash said, in Qunlat. “I am with two others. We did not know you were here. We have no wish to harm you.”

Stillness again, for a moment.

And then he burst into flames.

“NO!” Atash ran forward, calling ice to her hand, throwing all she could into it, to quench the flames, to stop him before he was beyond reach-

But the fire was too intense. Her ice evaporated in the air the moment she conjured it. Where's Neve? she thought desperately, as she leapt forward, abandoning the ice for soil that she ripped from the ground in a wave to cover him. She barely registered her companions behind her, Emmrich yelling something -

-and then she was thrown back once again by a blast of hot, hot air, her wave of soil splattering to the ground. She felt searing pain on her outstretched palms and fingers, down her arms, on her chest and face, as she slammed into the ground.

The sand was still soft, but with such force it might as well have been rock, as it knocked the wind out of her, leaving her gasping for air, vision blurry.

“ROOK!”

Hands grabbed her shoulders, dragging her back. She gasped, trying to get air back in her lungs, trying to get back to her feet so she could save him-

“Rook - ROOK. STOP.” Hands that had been pulling her were now holding her down. They were surprisingly strong.

“Can't…” Atash wheezed, “He- I have to-”

“Rook. Atash.”

Emmrich's voice spoke softly, but firmly, above her head. There was a slight tremor to it, though, as he said, “He's dead.”

Atash fell still. Her body suddenly felt like it was made of lead.

She didn't save him.

She couldn't save him.

“Rook.” Emmrich's voice spoke again, tone urgent. “We must get you back to the Lighthouse. Quickly.” She felt hands underneath her arms, attempting to pull her up.

“What-” her lungs were still struggling to hold on to air. She coughed, gasping.

“Rook, come on!” Bellara joined Emmrich in pulling at her shoulders. With their combined strength, and life slowly returning to Atash’s legs, they managed to get her to her feet.

As her vision cleared, Atash saw the smoking, blackened remains of the Saarebas. The fire he had conjured was so hot, it had killed him and torched his body in an instant. The sand around him had been melted into a warped circle of glass.

She had been incredibly lucky that she didn’t get torched herself, she realized faintly, barely able to collect her thoughts amidst the sudden and intense searing pain now radiating from her face, chest and hands. She hissed, shutting her eyes tightly.

“Here.” Emmrich's thin arm threaded around hers, guiding her without taking her burnt hands. “Bellara-”

“Right here.” Atash felt Bellara's arm, made bulky by her elven gadgetry, on her other side. “Come on, let's go. Quick.”

Atash was pulled forward, her companions guiding her somewhere in the direction of the Caretaker's ferry. She managed to blink her eyes open, her eyeballs mercifully intact but the skin of her cheeks and nose blistered.

“You don't have to help me,” she said faintly, “I can-”

Emmrich tightened his hold on her arm. “You,” he said, voice uncharacteristically hard, “for once, will listen.”

That stilled her. She fell silent, head lowering - like she was twelve again, being scolded by her teacher, Tide.

Tide. An ex-Saarebas.

Her chest now ached, along with the blistered skin.

Emmrich took a deep, steadying breath beside her. “Let’s… let’s go back to the Lighthouse, to my laboratory. Quickly.” He shifted himself a little under her weight. “Lean on us, dearest.” he said, voice soft. “Please.”

The hackles rose immediately under Atash’s skin. Her whole body tensed. Her mother’s voice spoke in her mind: don’t be a burden, Ataashri. You’re a lot bigger. They can’t carry you.

She took a deep, shuddering breath. Her skin burned, the white-hot, searing pain radiating all the way out from her front to her spine, down to her toes. She couldn’t bear to open her eyes. Her limbs could not move properly, bound up by the agony of the skin that covered them.

Neither can I, ‘Ma.

He placed his hands on either side of her face, his touch light and gentle. She felt the cool, soothing touch of his magic flowing over her, taking the edge off the burning itch of her blistered skin rapidly healing all at once.

She allowed herself to droop, her weight now held up by Emmrich’s and Bellara’s hold. Together, with surprisingly little effort, they were able to help her limp forward, towards the direction of the dock.

***

“There.” Emmrich said quietly, running a thumb over the soft new skin of her cheek. “I'm afraid you've lost a bit of your tattoo, but there shouldn't be any scarring.”

“Small price to pay, I guess.” Atash sighed, opening her eyes, blinking through the blurriness to see Emmrich's tall, lean form standing before her in his warmly lit laboratory.

“Hm.” Before his face could come back into focus, Emmrich had turned away from her, walking over to one of the shelves beside his desk, which appeared to hold various herbal concoctions in a variety of mysteriously labeled bottles. “A small price, indeed, for such a dangerous act.”

His tone was even, calm, but Atash’s heart sank further in her chest to hear it. She looked down at her hands in her lap, blistered palms even more horrific looking than she had thought.

“I know it was stupid.”

Emmrich paused, hand on the jar of elfroot balm. He looked over at her, sitting on the stone table, hunched over, staring at the burned flesh of her palms.

He silently took the balm down from the shelf, and walked over to the table, setting the jar down beside Atash. He sat down on the stool in front of her, and cradled one of her hands in his, barely even touching her skin. With his other hand, he neatly dipped two fingers into the balm, and with great care began to smear it over the burns on her palm.

She hissed a little under her breath, but otherwise did not react to the balm’s initial sting.

“Then, why did you do it?” Emmrich asked, quietly.

His voice wasn’t angry, not even rough. He just sounded… sad.

Atash closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of the balm numbing her burns, taking away the searing hot pain as he spread it over her hand.

“I wanted to save him.” she said.

There was a pause, as Emmrich seemed to be waiting for her to elaborate. When she didn’t, he spoke carefully: “I have seen you act when lives are immediately at stake many times. I have never seen you act so… desperately, as you did today.”

Atash took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through her nose. When she spoke, her voice was barely controlled, a slight tremor threatening to give way at any moment.

“I did it because…. I didn’t see him. I saw me.”

He halted, looking up into her face. She wasn’t sure what she looked like right then, but she did know tears stung at her eyes, threatening to fall. She was clenching her jaw, heart pounding, trying so desperately not to let out the terrible tsunami of emotions roiling within her.

If she gave even a little, she would lose herself completely. And she couldn’t do that. Not now. Not in front of him. Not in front of anybody.

“Atash.” Emmrich’s voice was low, and soft. She couldn’t see his face, as the tears blurred her vision, but she felt his hand slide up to cup her cheek, taking care not to get balm on her face.

“You wanna know what my greatest fear is, Emmrich?” Atash said, voice tight and rough. Don’t fall apart, don’t fall apart, don’t- “That. What - what they do to the Saarebas. I’m afraid of that.”

She felt his other hand on her face, warmth framing her cheeks. She shut her eyes tightly, feeling shame burn her insides as the tears trickled down her face.

“Kadan.”

The word, so familiar to her, yet so strange in his voice, stilled her tremors for a moment, as surprise briefly overtook everything else.

“Let go.” He brushed a thumb over her cheek. “There is nothing to fear here. You are safe.”

“I-I don’t…” she brought the back of her wrist to her eyes, trying to cover her face, “I can't… not… i-in front of…”

He slid a hand to the back of her neck, reaching with his other around her back, gently pulling her down towards him. She found herself burying her face into his shoulder, tears now soaking into his crisp shirt.

“There.” He whispered. “No longer in front of me. I don't see anything.”

These words, with the warmth of his arms around her, the soft green smell of him enveloping her, cracked through her decimated defenses. She went limp against him, sobbing uncontrollably, mercifully muffled by Emmrich's shirt.

Atash hadn't cried in over twelve years. Not since her mother had died. She had been so proud of that. Thought it meant she had moved beyond needing to cry at all. That the tears she shed at the side of her mother's corpse during the nightlong vigil had been all the tears she could ever possibly have in her body.

But now, crying like a child into Emmrich's shoulder, getting tears and snot all over his beautiful Orlesian-made shirt, her entire body shaking with the force of her sobs… she realized she hadn't evolved out of crying. She had just been saving it up. Every disappointment, every heartbreak, every injury - it was all still there, packed away tightly in some dark corner of her heart.

But after the last year and a half - a series of near-death experiences, pain, failure, and constant, never-ceasing fear eating away at her…. there was no more room in that corner to pack away the Saarebas. It was just too much.

It was all just too much.

Emmrich was quiet throughout her weeping. Until she started to hyperventilate.

“Here, breathe, darling. With me: slowly, in-,”

“I…c-can't… b-breathe-”

“Yes, you can, Atash. I promise you, you can.” He brought his hand down from the back of her neck to her chest, which was rapidly going in and out with her short, gasping breaths. “Trust in me. Here, in….”

She attempted to draw in a deep breath, gasping a few times along the way - but getting the air in her all the same, following along with Emmrich as he breathed in.

“...and, slowly, out…”

She let the air out, her breath stuttering only a little.

They went through the exercise a few more times, him breathing along with her, until Atash's breathing had settled. She now drooped over Emmrich, completely drained of tears, energy and fear. For the time being, anyway.

“‘m sorry,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“Whatever for, darling?”

“Everything.” she sighed. “Gods’re my fault. Blight’s my fault. Saarebas’s my fault.” She took another deep, shuddering breath. “Brought you here to be a Fade expert, instead you got Harding needing to be stitched up every other day and me crying all over you. Pretty raw deal.”

“Hmm.” He stroked her back in small, soothing circles. “There are, indeed, many aspects to this role I did not anticipate, and I'm all the happier for it. Hardly a “raw deal”.” He gave her shoulder a light pat. “And I have it on good authority that you are not, in fact, the one who decided to singlehandedly end the world.”

She allowed herself to let out a small, drained chuckle. He tightened his arms around her.

“Atash… there was nothing you could have done for him.” he said, voice low and serious. “Not without his willingness.”

“.... I know.” She let out another breath, closing her eyes. “Part of me does, anyway.”

Emmrich's arms tightened a little further. He shifted, so his forehead rested on her shoulder. She could hear him more clearly in this small, warm, muffled space they made with their bodies, as he murmured, “You never stop trying, do you?”

Another tiny, tired tear dropped down her nose and on to his shirt. “He was alone.” she whispered. “He was so scared. He probably thought he'd been infected by demons already, without his Arvaarad.”

“There was no sign of any possession that I could see…”

“That doesn't matter to them.” Atash sighed. “You know what Saarebas means, in Trade?”

“Hmm.” Emmrich gave the question serious thought. “Bas translates to ‘thing’, yes? In reference to foreigners?”

“In reference to those who do not follow the Qun.” she said, dully. “Those who are useless things, until they accept the Qun. Unless you're born a mage. Then it doesn't matter. You're doomed no matter what you do.” She took another deep, shuddering breath. “Saarebas means ‘dangerous thing’. The second a kid under the Qun manifests their magic… they're chained up and put in a pen. They aren't taught how to use their magic. They have to figure it out on their own, just to survive. All they ever learn is how to…” her voice caught in her throat. She took a breath, tried again. “How to… blow up. Or… make things blow up. They're literally living bombs that can set themselves off over and over again. And that's why the Qunari allow them to live. They're useful. Except they're still bas. No matter what they do.”

The sharp bitterness that entered Atash's voice surprised even her.

“That…” Emmrich took a deep breath. Even though she couldn't see his face, she could tell he was horrified. “I… had heard rumors, read many histories, but… the stories of what the Qunari do to their mages, I had assumed to be exaggeration. Born of prejudice and propaganda.”

“Might be true of some stories about the Qun.” Atash said dully, “But not these stories.”

“Maker's breath.” Emmrich whispered. He hugged her even more tightly. “Atash.” He said, with grim determination, “I swear, as long as I live, as long as any of us live, that will never happen to you. We will not allow it. Even after I draw my last breath, I swear on my life and any un-life I live that I will not allow any such thing to happen to you.”

She felt her body go stone still. Felt her usual compulsion in such circumstances, to dismiss it with a smiling affirmation that she was okay, she was just tired and overworked. Cover up that deep inner ache with a dumb joke, to make it seem like it didn't matter to her as much as it did.

Because to show that this mattered, meant showing that soft, vulnerable, weak side of herself she couldn't bear getting hurt. Couldn't bear putting it on display, to be used against her later.

But this wasn't a display. This wasn't Gisela. This wasn't her Lords crew. This wasn’t the team gathered at the library table planning missions.

This was Emmrich, in his laboratory, letting her ruin his lovely linen shirt with her crying. Hugging her still, even after all that. An elegant beanpole of a man half a foot shorter than her, arms wrapped protectively around her, shielding her heavily scarred, hard-muscled form from the world.

“.... You promise?” She heard herself say, in a voice she hadn't heard in well over a decade - the small, quiet, uncertain voice of teenage Atash, the one she'd thought died and buried with her mother.

He turned his face to her cheek, breath warm against her skin as he spoke.

“Always.”

She drooped against his shoulder, body sagging with deep relief.

She hadn't ever told anyone about her greatest fear, she realized. By this point, everyone knew about her fears of thunderstorms, of drowning, of small dark spaces, but no one knew about this, about the Saarebas. About being stuck in a slaver's brig. About being trapped and alone.

Except now Emmrich did. And he was still here. Warm and green and kind and loving and good.

I love you.

“Thank you.” she whispered.

He kissed her cheek. “Always.”

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officialnostradamus · 28 days ago

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Tomorrow

Rook is always fascinated by Emmrich’s hands. It’s mesmerizing to watch him teach, the way he emphasises his words with an elegant flick of the wrist, to watch him perform an intricate spell as though leading a grand orchestra. The bands of gold adorning his long fingers has Rook sharp, a magpie attracted to the gleam, taking in every motion as he leafs through the pages of an ancient tome.

In the dining hall, they’re biting their lip as his palm cradles the shape of an apple and he exhibits his grace with knuckles curled around a paring knife. In Rivain, Rook is easily distracted by him, from the way the tendons flex in the back of his hand as they have to scale the steep shoreline down the delicate wave as he shoos away a persistent sand fly. In the Necropolis, they’re shameless, hawkish and hungry, as he traces the rune carved into one of the great doors, bringing the ward to life, effortless power. It’s Dock Town where Rook looses their grip. Emmrich buries his fingers in a merchant’s offering of plush fabric. Smooth silk gives beneath his hand and Rook actually groans. The look of surprise on Emmrich’s face has Rook grinning as they drag him into the nearest alley. It’s not truly secluded, life goes on around them, but they’ve lost their friends to the swell of the market and Rook is breathless, eager.

“Rook, are you-”

“Touch me,” they plead. “Or I think I’ll go insane.” There’s a moment where Emmrich hesitates, he glances, briefly, at their surroundings and weighs his options. It isn’t the time, it isn’t the place, everything is simply off. Then he looks back at Rook and understanding passes between them, shared longing, as if Emmrich has been just as desperate.

“Forgive me, my dear,” he murmurs, “for how I’ve made you wait.” His beautiful hands slide around Rook’s waist, pushing beneath their robes until it’s skin to skin and Rook curves into the shield of his body, grateful. The way his grip tightens on Rook is intoxicating. Perfect, how his fingers dig in just enough to dimple their flesh, to feel his touch against their bones.

“Sometimes I’m jealous of the things you touch,” Rook lets the admission slip, grasping the broad lapels of his jacket. Emmrich’s hands have slipped up their back now and it smooths the gnawing edges of their want. “Silly, you know? I just always want your hands on me.” Emmrich is a romantic. Rook is enthralled by the fact that he smiles and presses his lips to Rook’s forehead and his touch lingers, seeming to count each of Rook’s ribs.

“Would it soothe you to know my hands have never felt anything as fine as you?” He asks and Rook isn’t sure about the word giggle, but it’s got to be close. “That touching you is one of life’s greatest joys?”

“I’d definitely call you a flatterer,” they counter.

“It isn’t flattery to state a simple truth.” It’s Emmrich’s turn to grin. The corners of his eyes crinkle and Rook can’t help noticing the lines that mark years of joy, and the charming mole on the bridge of his nose. Maybe it’s more than his hands Rook can’t get enough of and they are caught off guard the sudden, overwhelming weight of their affection. Struck by their own simple truth.

“Okay,” they agree, “then I’m soothed. As long as you never stop.”

“Never stop?” Emmrich asks, less question, more uncertainty at Rook’s quick acquiescence. They’re too taken to stop and Emmrich’s hands are still on them and they take his face in their own.

“Yeah,” they say and they never meant to ask for forever in a Dock Town alley. Then again, no one means to fall. “Today, tomorrow, the next - never stop touching me.” Emmrich is quiet and Rook swallows the abrupt well of emotion, of nerves, because the way Emmrich is looking at them is indescribable. Then those incredible hands are pulling them higher, and Emmrich’s mouth is as warm and wonderful as ever.

“Today, tomorrow, and the next,” he answers finally, and his voice is almost as tight as Rook’s, “and for as many tomorrows as you wish.”

#didn't know where I was going when I started #still not sure?#tbh y'all got me in my feels with some stuff earlier #have some fluff #that seems to be my job #and I'm okay with it #its so late omg #love you goodnight #dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #emmrook #emmrich volkarin #dragon age fanfiction #fanfic #rook #emmrich x rook #veilguard rook #dragon age emmrich

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starlsen · 7 months ago

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A Scar's Caress

Fem!Rook x Emmrich Volkarin ✶ Lots of fluff followed by smutty goodness ✶ NSFW ✶ 6.1k words

Read on AO3

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It had been quite some time since the whole team had been able to gather at the dining table to enjoy a good meal together. Tonight, Lucanis had insisted that everyone make themselves available, because it had been far too long since any of them had taken a real break – especially Rook. She’d be the last one to admit she needed to take it slow, but was never one to turn down a plate of Lucanis’ signature paella, particularly when washed down with a glass of Antivan Red.

“That was amazing, Lucanis.” Harding sighed as she sat back in her chair, hands on her stomach. “I’m stuffed.”

“I told you to save room for dessert,” Lucanis said indignantly, hands on his hips. “I baked a pie.”

“Oh,” Her cheeks flushed. “Right. I knew that.” Lucanis raised a brow and she smiled sheepishly. “I’m not that stuffed.”

Rook’s mouth turned up with amusement as she cleared away the last of the plates and grabbed another bottle of wine, setting about topping up everyone’s drinks. Conversation had flowed easily throughout dinner as she and her companions exchanged stories, cracked jokes and enjoyed just… being. She felt lighter than she had in a while, finally able to set everything aside and pretend for just a couple of hours that nothing outside of these walls existed. That the weight of the world didn’t rest on the shoulders of everyone in this room.

“Thank you, darling.” Emmrich said as she poured more wine into his goblet, offering her a dazzling smile as she did so. She returned the gesture, affectionately brushing her knuckle under his chin before turning her attention to Taash and Davrin who, by all accounts, were now engaging in a heated debate about scars.

“That's nothing,” Taash snorted. “It's kinda precious, actually.”

“Precious?” Davrin repeated incredulously. “You think a scar I got from taking down a hurlock is precious?” Taash shrugged.

“Sure. Why not?” Davrin baulked at dragon hunter, before turning to Rook for support as she topped up his wine.

“Are you hearing this?”

Rook snorted. “Yes.” Davrin waited, brows raised.

“And?” He pressed when Rook didn't elaborate, and she pressed her lips together in an effort to suppress her amusement, shrugging casually.

“I'm with Taash on this one.” Taash smirked, folding their arms across their chest, and sat back in their seat.

“Told ya.” They said, and Davrin sighed heavily.

“Why are we talking about Davrin’s adorable scar, anyway?” Rook asked, setting the bottle down and returning to her seat beside Emmrich. The Grey Warden rolled his eyes.

“It’s the story that counts.” Taash said, turning back to Davrin. “Yes, it’s very cool that you took down a hurlock with a bunch of cracked ribs, or whatever. But the scar itself is…” They paused.

“Kind of pretty?” Rook offered, much to Davrin’s chagrin, and Taash snorted.

“Alright,” He said flatly, turning pointedly towards Rook. “I think it's time we ask our fearless leader.” Her friends snickered at the nickname they'd started throwing around within the last couple of weeks, to which Rook rolled her eyes as she brought her goblet to her lips. “I bet you’ve got some adorable stories of your own.” She arched her brow as she sipped her wine, and considered him for a moment.

“I think we should hear from Emmrich next,” She said, offering the man at her side a sweet smile, to which he chuckled and sat back in his chair.

“Oh, I don’t know,” He clasped his hands together in that way that made Rook’s heart soar. “I’m quite sure my scars don’t come with stories to rival the excitement of any of yours.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, Professor.” Bellara said earnestly, her eyes shining. “All the things you’ve done in your career? I bet you have some amazing stories to share.”

“Well,” He mused. “There was an unfortunate mishap when I was a much younger, considerably less experienced necromancer.” He sighed, a note of nostalgia in his eyes. “You see, as members of the Mourn Watch, it is commonplace to raise skeletons in order to carry out work within the Grand Necropolis. And, being hungry for ambition and driven by my determination to prove my worth,” He balled his fists in front of himself to emphasise his words. “I attempted to raise a skeleton before I was ready.” Rook’s brows rose in surprise, though her lips curled into a smile.

“So what happened?” She asked, and he turned his gaze to her, smiling bashfully.

“Its coordination was frightfully misaligned.” He said, and Rook’s eyes widened as Emmrich placed a finger on his left pectoral, dragging a diagonal line across to his sternum. “Thankfully, I was able to get out of the way,” He paused and chuckled. “Well, mostly.”

“That’s a great story!” Bellara exclaimed. “I told you!”

“That’s so messed up.” Taash grumbled.

“Not bad.” Neve said, and Emmrich held his hands up.

“That’s it from me, I’m afraid.” Rook watched as he sat back in his chair and lifted his goblet to his lips, taking a sip of wine. His eyes met her own and her heart fluttered, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“That was pretty good,” Davrin said, pulling Rook’s attention away from Emmrich. “So I’m willing to bet, as a fellow necromancer, you have something good, too.” She shrugged nonchalantly, sitting back in her chair.

“I don’t know, almost getting axed by a skeleton sounds pretty hard to beat.” Emmrich tutted from her side and she flashed him a grin.

“Come on, Rook.” Lucanis said from across the table.

“Alright, alright,” She said, all eyes on her, and sighed. It wasn’t that she didn’t want them to know about her scars, necessarily; she supposed, more than anything, her hesitancy came from never having actually told another living soul about them. She’d never told anyone how she got them. Never let anyone see them.

“You don’t have to share, if you don’t want to.” Harding said, and Rook blinked, looking over to find her friend smiling, and tried not to think about the scar on her forehead – or how and why she got it, all those months ago.

“It’s okay,” Rook said and cleared her throat, sitting up a little straighter. “Much like my esteemed colleague here,” She gestured to Emmrich. “I also attempted magic far above my station when I was way too young and way too hot-headed to realise how stupid it was.” Emmrich scoffed, and their friends laughed. “No offence.” She added, touching his arm, to which he rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless.

“Alright.” Taash paused. “So… a spell went wrong, or what?”

“Something like that.”

“Where is it?” Davrin asked. “The scar, I mean.”

“Right here,” Rook said, pointing to her sternum. “All the way down to around… here.” She gestured down to below her knee. The table fell quiet, then, and she could feel Emmrich’s eyes burning into her. Taash let out a low whistle.

“Mierda,” Lucanis said quietly, and Rook shifted in her seat.

“Damn,” Davrin laughed, turning to Taash. “Now I see why you think mine are adorable.” Rook grinned as the others joined in his mirth.

“I stand by what I said.” Taash drawled, and laughter filled the dining table once more. “Who’s next?”

She was thankful for the diversion away from herself and knocked back the rest of her wine, all too aware of the man at her side, that his eyes were still fixed on her. She set down her cup and turned her attention to him to find him watching her thoughtfully, his brow slightly furrowed.

“What?” She asked, and he lowered his voice.

“I had no idea.” He said, glancing down at her body before bringing his gaze back to her own. “Darling, what happened?” She smiled, leaning in until her lips brushed the shell of his ear.

“Come to my room later and I’ll tell you,” She purred. “Maybe I’ll even show you.” She sat back in her chair and his brows shot up, eyes slightly wide, before clearing his throat and reaching for his wine once more. She flashed him a wicked grin and he chuckled, relaxing somewhat and shaking his head.

The truth was that while she’d dodged having to explain the details of the incident to her companions, she’d realised relatively quickly after meeting him that Emmrich was likely to be the only person she could share it with. He understood her in a way that nobody else could, and often seemed to know her better than she knew herself. And now, many months later, he was so much more than just a fellow necromancer, companion or friend. What they shared was… simply put, utterly magical, and they’d formed a bond that she knew could survive anything.

Not only that, but it had become increasingly difficult to ignore the way he made her feel, to ignore the all consuming desire that overwhelmed her senses whenever he was near – which was, incidentally, almost every single day. The alluring, dazzling and devastatingly charming gentleman had assured her they’d take things slow, to allow their relationship to progress organically; the only problem was that she wanted to take things further. Much, much further, and was confident that Emmrich was just as ready as she was.

There had been a handful of occasions in recent weeks in which she’d almost gone through with it, but as soon as it came to taking off her clothes, she’d freeze. She’d spent so much of her life hiding her scars that it felt alien to do otherwise. It had been almost a week since the last time she’d allowed herself to get carried away in the heat of the moment, driven by lust to throw caution to the wind; she’d been in his quarters and had become painfully aroused just listening to him read a passage from a book. She’d climbed into his lap, her kisses bruising and feverish, and he’d held her close and kissed her back with equal fervour, his broad hands roaming her body. Yes, Emmrich was definitely just as ready as she was.

And her scars were the only thing holding her back.

She’d remained wholly distracted for the rest of the evening, unable to think about anything other than getting Emmrich behind closed doors. And so, by the time they’d all decided to call it a night, she was all too happy to loop her arm through his and lead him away from the dining hall. She listened as he gushed over Lucanis’ skills in the kitchen, his appreciation for a delightful meal, and how exhilarating it was to share a story from his youth. As they reached the threshold of Emmrich’s quarters, he paused and turned to face her, a softness in his eyes as he took her hands in his own.

“Rook,” He said gently, and she hummed. “You know there is absolutely no pressure for our relationship to move forward, don’t you?” He ran his thumbs across her knuckles. “None whatsoever.” Gods, her heart ached with the affection she felt for him. She offered him a small smile and stepped into him, leaning up on the tips of her toes to press her lips to his. The kiss lingered for a few moments before she sank onto the balls of her feet and took a few steps backwards, towards her own quarters, letting go of his hands as she did so.

“Are you coming?” Is all she said, and after a moment, the corner of his lips turned up as he gestured for her to lead the way and followed in her stead. She tried to shake her nerves as she led him to her room, reminding herself how badly she wants, needs, this. She headed for the small meditation table before the expansive fish tank that filled the far wall, watching the candle flames flicker as Emmrich closed the doors behind them.

She listened to the steady, even stride of his approaching footsteps, and hovered a hand over the candles, the heat from the flames licking her fingertips. He was at her side, then, and she took another moment to admire the way the candles shone a fiery glow over her palm, the fish tank casting an icy blue hue across the back of her hand.

“I've never shared myself with anyone, not entirely.” She said into the peaceful calm of her room. “I've never known anyone that made me want to, y'know?” She pulled her hand away from the flames, turning to face where Emmrich stood, shoulders squared and hands clasped in front of himself, and nodded.

He was absolutely beautiful. The light of the fish tank cast his side in glorious aqua blue, his eyes appearing more green than hazel, contrasting with the warm shadows on his other side, candles all around them; and while dazzling was usually her go-to word to describe Emmrich, right now, it felt as though there were no words that would do him justice. His beauty, his kindness, his everything.

“But then I met you.” She said, and his eyes were so kind and earnest and caused an ache deep in her heart. “And those nights in the memorial gardens, you shared so much of yourself with me. Made me realise we were more alike than I ever realised.” His eyes dropped to the floor for just a moment, almost bashfully, the smallest smile tugging on his lips when he brought his gaze back to her own.

“You introduced me to your parents,” She continued. “You have no idea what that meant to me, Emmrich.” His eyes softened, chest rising as he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through his nose. “You make me want to share everything with you.” He closed the space between them.

“If you are ready,” He said, tucking her long, lavender hair behind her pointed ears. “Then it would be an honour, my darling.” He brushed his knuckles along her jaw, and her throat tightened, her heart beating a little faster again. She leaned into his touch, lifting a hand to his chest, to the scar she now knew lay underneath. She glanced down at herself, then raised her chin to meet his gaze once more.

“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours?” She hoped the playful tone in her words would take the edge off the nerves pooling in her gut, and Emmrich let out a breathy chuckle. He said nothing, at first; just smiled down at her, his eyes warm and safe and kind, always so kind. She raised her eyebrows just slightly, and then his lips were on her forehead in a gentle kiss.

“Very well.” He took a short step back from her as he unclipped the gold chain across his waistcoat, and Rook watched his fingers intently as they worked their way down, one button after the other. Watched as they pulled the waistcoat over his shoulders and set it down neatly on the chaise lounge. Watched as they unfastened his belt, the sound of leather sliding along soft calluses as it unwound from his hips. Watched as they slipped into luxurious red, unravelling the silken sash around his midriff. His usual gold cuff and leather glove were absent from his ensemble today, and she marvelled at how beautiful his hands really were; soft and warm and purposeful, bedecked in the finest jewellery.

She could watch those hands at work for an eternity.

As he unclasped the dainty skull pinning his collar together, she tugged at the bottom of his shirt, untucking it from his trousers, and his lips turned up slightly. Heat rose in her cheeks as he began unfastening the buttons of his shirt, slowly exposing his neck, clavicle, and sternum. She worked from the bottom until their fingers met, knuckles brushing, and she inhaled deeply through her nose as he slipped the shirt over his shoulders, revealing his broad chest, the gold bangles on his forearm chiming as he removed his shirt completely and dropped it on top of his other clothes.

Emmrich had always cut a very fine figure; his tailored clothes made no secret of his slender frame, but Rook hadn’t expected his shoulders, his chest, to be quite so broad. She followed the lines of his frame as it dipped in at his waist, his soft and slightly toned abdomen, and finally observed the scar running from his left pectoral to his sternum.

She brought her hands to his chest, tracing the line of the scar with her fingertips, and goosebumps flooded his skin under her featherlight touch. She hesitated for just a moment when he tensed, before he visibly relaxed and let out a breath. She could feel the heat crawling from her cheeks to the tips of her pointed ears as she touched him, her pulse racing, while he remained wholly still, hands once again clasped in his usual composure.

He was beautiful.

“Emmrich,” His name was barely above a whisper, and she finally looked up to meet his gaze, finding him watching her, a vulnerability in his eyes and something akin to uncertainty. She returned her attention to his chest and leaned in to press a soft, chaste kiss to his scar.

“I know that I am not exactly,” He paused, and she looked up at him. “Well, you know.” She tilted her head to the side and he huffed, his cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink as he averted his gaze. “I'm no Davrin or Lucanis, let's say.”

Her brows came together, then, and she reached for him, taking his cheek in her hand and gently bringing his gaze back to her own.

“Emmrich,” She said, taking one of his hands and lifting it to her chest. “Do you feel that?” He glanced down to where she was firmly holding his palm over her racing heart, his lips parting ever so slightly, and hazel met violet once more. She smiled.

“That's what you do to me.” She said, and he chuckled bashfully. Her smile widened to a toothy grin, and added, “Among other things.” Emmrich laughed heartily, then, the pink in his cheeks turning a little darker, and she giggled, feeling the familiar ache begin to stir between her legs.

“You are beautiful.” She said as their mirth eased, and his throat bobbed as she took his other hand to her chest, guiding his fingers to the buttons on her shirt. “I want you to see me, too.” She tugged the bottom of her shirt from where it had been tucked lazily into the waistband of her pants, before letting her arms return to her side.

“Are you sure, darling?” He asked, and she nodded, taking a breath to steady her racing heart. He held her gaze for a moment longer before leaning down to brush his lips over her temple, and began unfastening the buttons. She closed her eyes and leaned into his kiss, the flush in her cheeks deepening, and gazed up into gorgeous hazel when he pulled back.

Though her racing heart wasn't because of her desires for the man before her alone, or the anticipation of what she knew was going to happen tonight – no, her heart was racing because she was finally letting someone in. Because she finally felt safe enough, finally had the desire to be truly intimate with someone, finally wanted to show someone the reminder of just how close she had come to dying; a fact that had utterly terrified her and shamed her as a member of the Mourn Watch.

But after Emmrich had confided in her about his own fears, she’d realised she’d found a true companion in him. And now, bearing themselves to one another, she knew she’d found her twin flame, her soul’s calling, and at long last was ready. Truly ready.

His fingers had reached the bottom of her shirt and he paused. She nodded, and he slowly pushed her shirt over her shoulders and she let it fall to the floor, and his eyes dropped to her naked torso. Her heart was pounding by now, and Emmrich's lips parted, his eyes darting across the expanse of her scars. Her breaths came a little shorter, a little faster, and she inhaled deeply through her nose and let it out slowly, willing her heart to slow down, willing for him to say something.

He lifted his hands, and she held her breath as he gently brushed her hair back over her shoulders, letting the long, lavender locks cascade down her back, and stepped back slightly.

“It was lightning magic,” She said, and Emmrich glanced at her before returning his gaze to her abdomen. “I mean-” She snorted nervously and gestured to them. “Obviously.” He reached for her, trailing his fingers over the lines branching across her body, disappearing underneath her pants.

The magic had entered her body just below her hip, the lightning forking up and down as it surged and left scorched skin in its wake. Jagged lines spread up and around her ribs, across her abdomen to her sternum and breasts; it branched down her thigh, coiling itself around her leg to her shin. The scars remained a deep, dusky pink, though they had healed many years ago.

“Rook,” He said quietly, his brow pinched together. She took a breath.

“They run almost the entire length of my body,” She said, and with trembling fingers, reached for the button on her pants. He placed his hands over her own, halting her, and swallowed hard when he knelt before her; he unfastened the button, pulled down the zip, and carefully tugged them down her thighs. She held onto his shoulders as she lifted one leg at a time so he could remove her pants completely, leaving her clad only in her undergarments.

He remained on his knees, his eyes roaming her body as he asked, “What happened?”

“The magic was beyond my abilities at the time,” She said. “I was tired of being told I wasn’t ready, that I couldn’t do it. I was so sure they were wrong, that I could prove them wrong, so…” She sighed. “I performed the spell in my quarters and I couldn’t contain it. I struck myself by accident.” She paused as her voice wavered. “And, uh,” She cleared her throat, blinking away the tears in her eyes. “It almost killed me.”

Emmrich's eyes shot up, then, and she could feel his gaze burning into her as she focused on the candles across the room, willing herself to calm, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“I was terrified.” She admitted. “And I couldn’t tell anyone because what good is a necromancer whose greatest fear is dying?” Emmrich sighed, and she looked down at him, his brows drawn and such sadness in his eyes. She brushed her knuckles along his cheek. “But then… I met you.”

“Darling,” He said gently, so agonisingly gently, as he leaned into her touch. “I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn't,” She said. “Nobody does. I've never…” She trailed off, and he tilted his head to the side.

“You've never told anyone?” He asked, and she shook her head.

“No,” She said, and his frown deepened slightly, before lowering his gaze once more to her scars. Then, he leaned in, and she inhaled sharply when he pressed a kiss to her abdomen.

“They are beautiful, Rook.” He said firmly, and placed another kiss on her hip. “You are beautiful.”

Her cheeks were blazing now, and she chuckled, threading her fingers through his hair.

“Oh, I don't know about that.” She said, and he looked up at her, his expression entirely too serious, and rose to his feet once more. She almost shrank back from the intensity of his gaze, and he took her face in his hands, cradling her jaw, his touch so tender she could have cried.

“I see you.” He said, and she swallowed hard as her throat tightened, tears threatening to fill her glistening eyes. “You are the most beautiful young woman I have ever laid my eyes upon,” He spoke so gently, so earnestly, and she sighed as she leaned into his touch.

“And,” He added, leaning in to brush his lips over hers. “There are none in this world more fortunate than I.”

She had never truly grasped what it could mean to be swept off her feet, but when his mouth met hers in a kiss so dizzying that it stole her breath and left her knees unsteady beneath her, she wondered if this was what it felt like. Her eyes slipped shut as she melted into him, chest-to-chest, their hearts beating wildly as one, hands cradling each other’s faces as though they couldn’t be close enough.

Lips fused in a slow, tender kiss, they moved back towards the chaise lounge. Rook reached blindly for the frame as Emmrich set a knee on the seat, sliding a hand down to her waist and around the small of her back as she found purchase at last and laid back, his body warm as he settled between her legs and leaned over her.

He trailed his lips along her jaw and down the length of her neck, his kisses gentle and unhurried and Gods, she was breathless as he reached her collarbone. The warmth of his breath left her skin tingling as his lips caressed her breast, then her sternum, and her heart all but soared out of her chest upon realising that he was slowly, and very deliberately, tracing the branches of her scars.

She couldn’t look away. Her chest rose and fell, watching as he took his time, eyes roaming across her skin, as though he was taking such care of where to place his lips next, worshipping her body with his mouth. She gently ran her fingers through his hair, sighing softly through parted lips as he kissed her stomach, then paused as he glanced down at her undergarments. His gaze met her own in silent question, his eyes softening when her answer came in the form of a single nod, and sat back on his knees as she lifted her hips to allow him to remove her underwear.

She blushed furiously when the corner of his mouth tugged into a deeply alluring smile, and he leaned down to press a kiss to her stomach, then her hip, before shifting further back on the seat and nuzzling the inside of her thigh with his nose, his lips barely brushing her skin, his eyes fixed on her own. By the Gods, the darkness in his lustful gaze sent a thrill running straight through her. He tucked his shoulders under her thighs, running his hands along her hips, and she gasped when he dipped between her legs and ran the flat of his tongue over her slit.

It was as though every nerve ending in her body was centred entirely within her sex, a feeling she could have only ever dreamed of; Emmrich worked his lips and tongue like a man starved, leaving her thighs trembling, chest tightening, toes curling. Every cell in her body was on fire, arousal pulsing through her, and she was breathless as she tipped her head back, her senses overwhelmed because his tongue, Gods, his tongue; warm and wet, gliding through her soaking folds, over and over, yes, yes-

“Emmrich,” She moaned, arching her back, and he slid a jewelled hand from her hip to her abdomen, his palm flat against her skin. She wasn’t going to last, not like this, the familiar feeling already beginning to swell deep within her core. She clutched his hand tightly, writhing against him, and cried out when he planted his mouth over her clit and began gently sucking, expertly rolling his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. He groaned into her sex, the sound vibrating through her as he gripped her fingers that were closed over his own. She ached for release, was ready to beg for it, when the pressure building between her legs erupted with a final sweep of his tongue and she gasped sharply, her mouth falling open, her entire body tensing and trembling as her orgasm sent lightning surging from her core.

He slowed his tongue to gentle rolls as she rode out her high, his eyes fixed on her writhing body, marvelling at the way she moved and how utterly breathtaking she truly was - especially like this. Her moans gave way to breathy whimpers as her grip on his hand slackened, and with a satisfied chuckle, he turned to press his lips to the inside of her thigh and shifted to lean his forearms either side of her hips. He watched her chest rise and fall as she caught her breath and, admittedly feeling a touch smug, couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his mouth at the sight of her flushed cheeks.

“Are you alright, darling?” He asked. It was all she could do to nod, because she was infinitely better than alright; she’d never been made to feel the way he made her feel, had never experienced pleasure quite like that before, and certainly never dreamed Emmrich could do that with his mouth. She hummed when she felt his lips on her hip, trailing kisses along the forked branches of her scars across her abdomen and breasts.

“Amazing,” She sighed, and he huffed a laugh before his lips found her neck once more as he settled between her legs. Feeling his hardness pressing against her, she let out a breath and guided his face back to hers, pulling him into an open-mouthed kiss. She moaned as she tasted herself on his tongue, running her hands down his chest and already feeling so dizzy with the way he was kissing her, his lips moving so easily, so expertly, with her own. Her fingers found the waistband of his trousers, and she pulled back from the kiss just slightly as she tugged at them.

“Take these off.” She whispered against his lips, and he nuzzled her nose with his own before nodding, brushing a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth and making quick work of kicking off his boots and removing the last of his clothing. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach as their eyes met and he leaned over her once more, hooking an arm underneath her shoulder to slide his fingers along her neck, threading them in her hair, gripping her thigh around his waist with the other.

She cradled his jaw in her hands and stroked her thumbs across his cheeks, her heart racing and his eyes searched her own, seeking permission. She answered with a buck of her hips and he laughed breathlessly, the sound curling around her heart and spreading warmth through her chest. He turned into her hand to press a kiss to her palm, returning his gaze to hers for a moment before leaning his forehead against hers as he slowly pushed himself into her slick heat. She gasped, body tensing, her brows coming together as heat flooded to her cheeks because Gods, he felt amazing inside her.

His breath was hot on her lips as he waited, stroking her thigh with his thumb, hardly able to believe he was tangled up with her; Rook, the most courageous and dangerously breathtaking woman he’d ever known – and she wanted him. He pressed a sweet kiss to the tip of her nose, then her lips, and she relaxed, offering him a smile that could shatter the world as she nodded for him to keep going. Affection blossomed in his chest at the gesture, and he closed the space between them to press his lips to hers as he pulled his hips back and sank into her again, a low moan rumbling in the back of his throat.

And that sound drove her wild. She whimpered, parting her lips to kiss him again, and when his tongue swept in to caress her own, she moaned and wound her arms around his neck. He began rolling his hips into hers, his movements masterful, as though he'd spent an eternity making love to her. It felt so right. Their bodies fit together and moved perfectly, as one - and finally, for the first time in her life, Rook felt whole. Complete.

She broke the kiss to look into his eyes, her brow pinched and mouth open as she gasped with every delectable roll of his hips into hers. He'd never looked more beautiful than he did in that moment; pieces of his usually pristine hair hung over his forehead, his eyes dark with lust, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. A fire ignited within her, unfathomably powerful and burning exceptionally bright; she'd never felt this feeling before, but greeted it like a long lost piece of herself as she welcomed it - and Emmrich - into her heart.

“I love you,” She whispered, and something changed in his eyes, a recognition, an understanding, and he smiled; wide and bright and absolutely breathtaking.

He chuckled breathlessly and nuzzled her nose with his own as he said, “And I love you, my darling.”

She returned his smile, a joyous giggle escaping her lips, and gasped sharply when he thrust his hips into hers, harder now, and her eyes slipped shut as she tipped her head back and moaned. Emmrich buried his face in the crook of her neck, his moans low and deep, and she was sure it was the most beautiful and holy sound she'd ever heard. She wound her arms around his waist and up his back, her fingers digging into the skin below his shoulder blades, clinging desperately as a familiar feeling began coiling around her core, twisting and tightening and building and building, an intense pressure mounting, her entire body tensing and trembling.

“Emmrich,” She whimpered, and he removed his hand from where it had been buried in her hair to clutch the arm of the chaise lounge, gripping her thigh tightly with the other, practically growling into her neck as he drove his hips into her, harder, faster. She tightened around him, her mouth falling open and arched her back, the air forced from her lungs as her orgasm slammed into her with the staggering force of a hurricane. She gasped sharply into his shoulder, crying out and making a sound she was sure she'd never made before, and with that, Emmrich moaned loudly, his movements stuttering, thrusting hard and haphazardly as he came.

The pleasure was utterly blinding, her heart thundering and chest heaving, leaving her on the verge of feeling delirious. She pulled back to nudge his temple with her nose, words failing her, and he slowly lifted his face from her neck, eyes dazed and half-lidded. He glanced at her mouth before leaning down to kiss her, their breaths heavy as their lips parted and came together again, slowly and tenderly, as his hips slowed altogether.

She brought a hand from his back to cradle his cheek, and he pulled back just enough to find her gaze as she brushed her thumb over his top lip and smiled. He quickly returned the gesture, and she couldn’t help the giggle that followed, feeling utterly giddy for arguably the first time in her life. He chuckled, capturing her lips in a single, lingering kiss before pulling his hips back and all but collapsing on her chest.

She brushed his hair back as he closed his eyes, absentmindedly trailing his fingers up and down the length of her arm with a contented hum. She wasn’t sure how long they laid like that, tangled up in each other until their breaths became slow and even, their hearts beating as one; but after a short while, she looked down at him and smiled as she continued to smooth back his hair.

“The dishevelled look rather suits you, y'know.” She said after a few moments, and he snorted.

“Never.” He said with a sigh. “A gentleman is anything but.” Rook grinned.

“I had no idea gentlemen could fuck like that.” She quipped, and Emmrich barked a laugh, shifting to look up at her as he leaned his forearms either side of her hips.

“Darling, I can do much more than that.” He said, his voice dangerously low. She bit her lip, her smile bright and wicked.

“Oh?” He hummed. “Tell me more.” She said, and his tongue darted over his bottom lip before he raised a brow.

“I'd rather show you, my dear.” She laughed, patting his shoulder and closed her eyes, lying her head back.

“Give me a few minutes and I'll be good to go.” Her smile remained as he chuckled, and she felt his lips as he pressed a kiss to the scars between her breasts.

“I may need slightly longer to recover.” He mused. “But I will gladly do this again,” He kissed further down her abdomen. “And again,” Another kiss. “And again.” She hummed happily.

“Sounds good to me.”

#emmrich volkarin #emmrich volkarin fanfiction #emmrich volkarin x rook #emmrich x rook #rook x emmrich #emmrook #emmrich x rook fic #emmrook fic #emmrook fanfic #emmrich volkarin fanfic #emmrich volkarin smut #emmrich volkarin fluff #datv fic #starlsenfics

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cyborrrg · 3 months ago

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Old man Yaoi is a state of mind- of world.. state of Thedas-- Here's my personal canon world state romance!

Whats that? Harsino is not a canon romance? I'm delusional? Well I cast fireball. And then I toss you a healing potion bc you are correct abt the delusional part.

But then again, the only true canon ship amongst these three is Pavelyan(my beloved). I kinda goofed up on Vhemrich(emmrook) bc his romance went over my head and I completely missed it on my first run.

Anyways I like yapping abt them, let me know if you wanna know anything abt them.

#they constantly infest my mind with plot tragedy and fluff everyday #sweet old men being in love #old man yaoi #dragon age #da2 #dai #datv #veilguard #garrett hawke #orsino #harsino #inquisitor trevelyan #dorian pavus #pavelyan #emmrich volkarin #rook #emmrook #vhen mercar

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jochiemgrace · 2 months ago

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A Necromantic Meeting

“VOLKARIN! Come here.” Johanna shouted from across the main hall.

The young necromancer rolled his eyes and apologized to the student he was currently in conversation with, excusing himself to make his way towards the screeching colleague.

“What is it, Johanna?”

“I wanted to introduce your replacement for the exhibition you chickened out on.” Johanna shoved a woman forward, yanking her from her conversation.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65374039

#dragon age #emmrook #rook x emmrich #emmrich x rook #emmrich volkarin x rook #emmrich volkarin #professor volkarin #dragon age veilguard #Havva le Saux #ao3 link #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #Emmrook Fluff #my works

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crimsen-khalessi · 2 months ago

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What Comes After

Part 37 has been added on Ao3

I haven't got any sneak peaks this time.

The fluff continues...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62364643/chapters/166741075

#emmrich volkarin #dragon age emmrich #emmrich x rook #emmrook #da4 emmrich #rook x emmrich #emmrich dragon age #emmrich romance #emmrich x ingellvar #emmrook fanfic #emmrich the necromancer #datv emmrich #emmrich fanart #emmrich volkarin fanfic #emmrook fluff

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writingjourney · 5 months ago

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apple punch kisses // emmrich volkarin x f!rook, 2.3k words

I learned that Nevarrans skate on the Minanter in Winter, so here's a short little thing about Emmrich teaching Rook how to ice skate, set post-game ♡

It is too cold for fresh snow.

The Minanter has frozen over, its water moving somewhere in the depths beneath a thick, unbreakable layer of ice. Its surface, nothing but a mirrored, crystal blue plane, is now occupied by ice skaters who spin and race between two nearby bridges. Old snow lines the river banks, trees bowing heavily under the weight of a long season. Everyone is yearning for Wintersend and yet the city is brimming with life on such a freezing but clear Winter's day.

The sun is deceivingly bright, its golden rays devoid of much warmth, and Rook can see Emmrich's breath when he laughs at the sight of children chasing each other with snowballs or flailing on sleighs, pulled behind breathless parents in thickly layered clothing. He's wearing ear muffs, woollen gloves, a thick coat with a dark green scarf that he's wrapped artfully around his slender neck. Manfred knit her a matching one, the stitches not quite as neat, but it provides ample protection from the cool wind.

"Darling, can I interest you in some spiced tea or hot apple wine before we venture onto the ice?" Emmrich's voice is filled with mirth, eager to show her the parts of Nevarran city life that are as yet unknown to her. "It should get us warmed up just right."

"Should we not wait until after the skating before we drink?" Rook asks. "I would hate to make an ass of myself–"

"Nonsense!" He grabs her by the arm, linking them tightly together as he leads her to a well-patronised market stall with adjacent tables and seating arrangements. "Besides, they have many beverages on offer without any liquor or wine. The spiced tea is highly commendable but perhaps the hot apple punch is more to your liking? Of the children's variety, alas, but it might suit your sweet tooth."

As they wait for the rather long queue to clear, surrounded by the smell of roasted chestnuts, Rook takes her time to read all that is so artfully written on the long chalk board menus, different types of spiced teas, mulled wines and hot fruit juices. Her eyes drift over the other patrons, red-cheeked, giddy and no doubt already tipsy, laughing as they share stories, all the while cradling their hot mugs between gloved fingers. Nevarrans celebrating a period that feels so devoid of life is rather fitting, she thinks, the way they cherish it in even the bleakest of seasons, aware that time is so very fleeting.

Emmrich leans in, then, pressing a soft kiss to her head. "It is rather lovely here, is it not?"

Rook nods, blinks up at him with a warm smile. "It is. Thank you for inviting me."

"Oh, I do have plans for you, my darling. This invitation is not as altruistic as it may seem. If you think I am a good dancer on even footing then you must see me on the ice. I do aim to impress."

"I hope you are prepared to catch me even as you pirouette. You know I have never done this before."

He chuckles, leaning in until his breath ghosts along her ear. "I hear that I am quite the proficient teacher, dearest, no matter the type of physical activity."

Rook's face has already been bit by the cold wind but it begins to feel even more heated now. His lips come to rest against her cheekbone and a gloved hand squeezes her waist. Even now it never fails to impress her how he so effortlessly disarms her, dispelling any concerns with such practiced charms. She'd melt under his touch if she had any time to linger in it.

"What can I get you, professor?" They have reached the end of the line and a young woman tends to them, not so inconspicuously taking the pair of them in. Rook nestles a little closer into Emmrich's side but he doesn't seem to notice.

With their drinks in hand, they find one of the high wooden tables, Emmrich sipping on his hot spiced tea while Rook glances back at the woman who served them, fiddling with the handle of her apple-punch-filled copper mug.

"One of our students," he explains conversationally. "Helping out here is a rather popular way to earn some extra coin and the free drinks are not to be dismissed, of course."

"Neither is the gossip," Rook muses, catching the girls ever-curious gaze and smiling with a hint of satisfaction when she quickly glances away.

She takes her first sip, then, and after the initial sting of heat the rich aromas of sweet apple, cinnamon, nutmeg and clove linger like wisps on her tongue. The warmth settles in her belly and Emmrich has inched closer to her as well, a protective arm wrapped around her middle. He smells like the best parts of winter, incense, smoke, a hint of pine.

"Perhaps we should give her some more spiced fuel, then?" he mumbles. "As befits the season."

Rook giggles helplessly when he tips her head back and presses his lips to hers. She tastes a similar mix of spices on his tongue, something richer, then, tangy and alcoholic. His mouth is still warmed by the drink, citrus and herbs on her skin. Even in the cold his kiss does not fail to ignite her, the soft sighs he breathes, his fingers curling just so around her shape. Whenever he shows a hint of possessiveness her whole body gives out, as if to agree – I am yours and no one else's.

"Perhaps I should have taken the tea as well," she whispers. "Though it might taste better on your tongue."

Emmrich smiles, licks his lips as he breaks away. "Don't tempt me to end this visit as soon as it started, darling. I do want to take you to the ice before I take you to bed."

"Butt bruises and chafed knees might make that a little uncomfortable–"

"Oh come now, you have dealt with much worse," he interrupts, playfully tipping his chin towards his shoulder. "And besides, I will do my very best to keep you from falling."

She smiles, amused, leaning into him. He's more than willing to indulge her, always, soaking up any affection she is willing to offer. And it has become so easy between them, perhaps because she needs him more than ever, all that happened a looming shadow in the back of her mind, ready to pull her under. If Emmrich didn't drag her out on occasion, make her see the world they fought so hard for, she might not be able to stay so rooted in the present.

They don't talk about it often, that fresh scar on their hearts, but it shows in the way their hands always search for the other's, every call of their name from the other room a little more urgent, the fever with which their bodies entwine after a nightmare, kisses with a force so bruising that it reminds her of what's real. She still struggles to fall asleep when he's not home.

The drinks empty all too quickly. Warmth still radiates from her belly to the tips of her fingers as they make their way to the frozen river, renting skates from a kind dwarf who is concerningly good at estimating their sizes. Rook is used to difficult terrain but this is new, thrilling, a little scary if she's being honest. Emmrich holds her hand as he eases them onto the ice. She instinctively tries to take a step towards him, losing her already poor balance. His grip on her tightens painfully, steadying her before she can land on her ass and pulling her securely into his arms.

"Easy," he whispers, voice dropping low. "Don't move too quickly, darling. Slow and steady. You don't want to walk, you want to glide. Would you like me to demonstrate?"

"Please," she says, regretting her reply the moment he lets go of her entirely.

Emmrich shares none of her awkwardness. Practiced movements, as though he's been doing nothing else for years, all while she struggles to stay standing. One end of his scarf flies behind him as he dances over the ice, turns around to look at her, skating backwards now, then forward again. The sound of blades scratching over ice, kids laughing in the background as they push a pinecone back and forth, the occasional grunt of pain of those who don't manage to be quite so graceful. And yet he commands the ice with an ease she can only envy, drawing everyone's gazes to his effortless performance.

When Emmrich reaches her again he smiles like a little boy. He slows but doesn't stop and Rook squeals when he grabs her hands and pulls her forward. She is holding on for dear life, unmoving, allowing her feet to glide on their own across the slippery surface.

"There you go, darling," he says, delighted, and at her scowl he laughs with such genuine amusement that she forgets about the ice underneath her feet.

She tries to copy him, slow movements, shifting one leg forward, then the other, steel-grip on his hand. He gently encourages her and she's distracted enough by his enthusiasm, ice crystals clinging to his moustache and brows, nose read and cheeks puffy. But then she startles, realises that they're in the middle of the river, so far away from any solid ground to step on. Her legs waver, knees buckle, and before she knows what's happening she already drops backwards onto the hard ice.

Pain shoots into her tailbone, claws up her spine, and her vision blurs for a moment before she realises what happened. She can't breathe, her lungs squeezed empty by the impact.

"Darling," Emmrich gasps above her, having lost grip of her hand. "Are you alright?"

Words fail her, lungs still deflated and pain stuck in her chattering teeth. The cold of the ice seeps into her bones, the air around her biting in her nostrils. She groans, trying to shift her weight away from her aching butt. Emmrich hoists her up, somehow, holding her in his arms, just as quickly as she fell. Cheeks hot with embarrassment she hides in his chest, another groan, though the pain slowly recedes. He sends warm waves of magic through her body to soothe her.

"It's alright, my love," he whispers. "It happens to everyone, nothing to be embarrassed about."

"You wouldn't think I fought dragons and Gods," she grumbles.

Emmrich huffs a laugh, a kiss loosely pressed to her hair. "You will get the hang of it, darling. A little patience goes a long way."

She swallows a complaint when he urges her to go again. This time, she tries not to focus on her surroundings but on him, his smiles, the soft knitted pattern of his gloves. He is a good teacher, there is no denying it, and he commands her attention just as well as he commands the ice. Soon, she finds herself gliding more smoothly, her balance finally adjusting to the altered circumstances, and now at last she sees the point of it all. Rook feels weightless, untethered, and it's fun. For a while they slowly skate in tandem, hand in hand, an easy rhythm that's all suited to her lack of skill. Then, near the edge of the river, Emmrich lets go of her and she closes the gap with a spirited skate acorss the distance, trusting in her growing confidence.

Emmrich catches her easily in his arms and they giggle like fools, a hug so tight that they sway on the ice from the sheer force of it.

"Very good, my darling," he whispers against her ear. "So very good."

A shiver runs down her back, her hands sliding underneath his coat as she presses ever closer, a not so innocent exchange of warmth. Emmrich hums, tugs her in until they both fit snugly. "Perhaps that is enough for our first lesson, don't you think?"

"I could use another one of those hot beverages," she mumbles. "And whatever you promised comes after."

"We do have to find suitable ways to warm up, dearest," he agrees.

Rook leans back, smiling up at him with a newfound joy for life. Emmrich's nose is a glowing red, every hair on his face frozen, a pearl of ice stuck in his lashes, and he looks so lovely like that. She can't help but tiptoe up to him and he meets her, cold lips pressed to cold lips, warm breath against icy skin. Bundled together, she can feel his heart rate increasing, her hand dipping to find the curve of his lower back. Emmrich sighs, leaning more of his weight against her, but it tips her fragile balance, the blade on her skates slipping and taking him with her. They topple over, landing in a pillow of soft snow by the riverbank.

"This time you did catch me, my love," Rook says from on top of him.

Emmrich seems less amused, his scarf and coat covered in snow, hair mussed and clumped in wet strands. She can't help but laugh and it's enough to wring a smile from him as well, even as he begins to knock the snow off his clothing. Rook assists him but she's soon distracted by the snowflakes stuck in his lashes, the way his hair has fallen into his face, the annoyed little curl of his lips.

"I love you so, Emmrich," she whispers.

He looks up with flushed cheeks but she's already kissing him again, licking the ice from his mouth. He surrenders with a huff that billows like smoke in the cold air around them and she thinks that falling isn't so bad, at least not when they're falling together.

#some more fluff before i finally dive into PROPER angst and smut for this guy haha #emmrook #emmrich volkarin #emmrich volkarin x rook #emmrich x rook #emmrook fanfic #datv fanfiction #emmrich volkarin fanfiction

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peonysgreenhouse · 8 months ago

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and still, i will live here.

summary: after the siege of weisshaupt, emmrich helps rook bathe. (rook x emmrich volkarin)

tags: 3.1k words, she/her pronouns for rook, rook is an elf/rogue/mourn watcher, bathing/washing, fluff, hurt/comfort, pre-relationship, rook is bad at feelings, emmrich is not.

Rook stands at the bottom of the staircase and mentally counts the number of steps that lead up to the second floor. She wonders if it would be easier to just curl up underneath the meeting table; skin soaked with blight and ichor and all.

Such exhaustion felt too big for her body. Sure, she had scrubbed the headstones in the Memorial Gardens from sunrise to sundown as punishment many times, but that weariness was manageable. This was not.

If she would’ve just died at Weisshaupt, at least she wouldn’t have to stand, and persist. An eternal rest sounds nice for both her body and her conscience.

It’s Manfred’s chattering that catches her hazy attention. He ambles over to her, bones rattling with each step. It’s a pleasant sound, familiar, and it’s almost enough to bring a smile to her weary face.

Manfred makes a noise akin to a screeching, and starts to slowly walk up the stairs. With each step, Manfred turns to her, as if beckoning her to follow. Or perhaps, he assumed that her idling by the bottom of the staircase meant she didn’t know how to use the stairs. He stops at the fifth step and hisses again, turning to face her, and takes another step down.

Rook does smile at that. She lets out a sigh, and relents, slowly following Manfred up the stairs. Rook clutches at her side as she walks up the stairs; exhaustion weighs heavy on her shoulders, draped like an oversized coat.

Manfred hisses happily when she reaches the top of the stairs, and she huffs out a laugh, turning to her room as she bids the spirit goodnight.

“Rook?” Emmrich. Rook turns to face her companion, trying to will a smile to her face. She didn’t want him to worry.

“Emmrich.” She says, quiet and fond. “Need something? I’m about to head to bed.”

Emmrich raises an eyebrow, his fingers steepled in front of him. Even after Weisshaupt he still looked put together; prim and dandy as he always did. She’s almost envious, she can only imagine how unkempt she looked in comparison.

“Covered in all that…” He makes a vague gesture, cutting off his words as if to not offend. “You should at least bathe first. Clean off all those cuts and bruises. I would hate for them to get infected.”

Rook lets out another breathy, tired laugh. “I’m afraid I’d fall asleep in the tub and drown.”

Emmrich’s expression softens. It makes something in Rook’s chest tighten uncomfortably.

“I would be happy to aid you. But only if you’re comfortable with it.” He suggests, kindly.

“Are you sure?” Rook asks, but the thought of a warm bath does seem nice. Especially if she got to collapse in bed afterwards. “You fought today too, surely you’re tired as well–”

“Yes, but I wasn’t in the thick of it like you were.” He answers, lacing his fingers together. “You made sure of that. Allow me to repay you in what small way I can.”

Rook doesn’t have the energy to protest like she might normally. She acquiesces with a nod. “Alright. That would be nice.”

“Excellent.” He says, clapping his hands together, his jewelry clinking as he does. “I’ll draw a bath.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Rook manages to traipse her way to her room and grabs herself a clean pair of comfy clothes; a thoroughly-worn tunic she had nicked from a friend in the Mourn Watchers, and a loose pair of breeches. She gives the mirror sitting on top of her chester drawer a wide berth.

She walks back to Emmrich’s room, tracing a finger along the stone walls as she goes. The door was already propped open, the smell of chamomile and lavender enticing her to step closer. She peeks inside, and sees Emmrich unfolding a screen divider, as if to give the bathing area a little privacy.

“Emmrich?” You call, and he stands up to full height, looking rather pleased with himself.

“Ah, Rook!” He answers, folding his hands together in front of him. “Come in, feel free to set your clean clothes anywhere you’d like. And do tell me if the water is too hot or too cold.”

Ever the gentleman, Emmrich turns around as she walks towards the tub. Rook thinks it's silly, no doubt all their companions have seen her in worse states than being in the nude; crawling out of blight pustules or wading through the entrails of failed Venatori rituals seemed like normalcy now. Sometimes it took multiple washes to rid her armor of the rot.

Still, Rook is thankful for the privacy. Emmrich was a kindness she knew she didn’t deserve.

Rook sets her clean clothes on the floor near the tub, changing out of her armor as quickly as she can. Even raising her arms to pull the leather over her head felt grueling, but Emmrich remains with his back turned the whole time. Rook leaves her dirtied armor in a pile on the floor. She was thankful the blood and blight had dried already – it would take longer to clean, but at least she wasn’t staining his brick flooring. She could almost hear the lecture he’d give her if she did.

Slowly, Rook sinks into the bathtub. The water is nice and hot, and the scent of the bath oils make her eyelids feel heavy. She pulls her knees up to her chest.

“Emmrich?” She says, clearing her throat after her words come out hoarse. “You can turn around now.”

“Wonderful.” Emmrich answers. He claps his hands together, and it’s only then she realizes that he’s lost all the finery he usually wears. No rings or bracelets, no glove, his vest discarded and his yellow collared shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Communal bathing was normal in Nevarra, but this is different, intimate.

“No need to worry, Rook.” He assures, as if sensing her discomfort. “Tell me if you wish for me to stop, and I’ll leave. No questions asked. But for now, allow me to take care of you.”

Rook sucks in a breath on instinct, her weary brain searching for something to say to ease the slowly surmounting urge to flee.

“...Right.” She says with a breathy laugh, sinking further into the tub. Rook’s eyes follow Emmrich as he grabs a few bottles out of a drawer, as well as a wash rag. He pulls up a stool to the side of the tub and sits down, setting the bottles on the floor beside him.

“I noticed you were short of breath when you addressed us tonight.” Emmrich says, dipping the wash rag into the bath water and wringing it out. “Did you hurt your ribs perhaps?”

A man as learned in Anatomy as he was would notice that, Rook thinks bitterly. Her hand subconsciously comes up to her side underneath the water. “Yeah, I…” She starts. “The Archdemon got me pretty good with the back of its tail. It’s not an open wound, but… It’s got some pretty nasty bruising.”

Emmrich nods. “If you’d like, I can take a look at it for you after we get you washed up.”

“I’ll be okay. I’m sure you’re tired from… everything that’s happened today. Wouldn’t want you exhausting yourself on my account.”

“Nonsense.” He says firmly. “If it is just bruises like you say, it will take little effort to expedite the healing process.”

Again, such kindness. It makes her throat feel thick with uncomfortable emotion. Rook didn’t know how to handle his sincerity; it felt antithetical to everything she was.

“I’ll just take a healing potion before bed.” She answers, tilting her head towards the far wall so he can’t see her flustered expression. “I’ll be alright.”

“If that’s what you think is best. But know my offer will always stand.” Emmrich says, not wanting to press on an already open wound. “Now, if you would…” Emmrich scoots his chair a little closer. “My dear, we must have a talk about how you handle yourself in battle. Not even Taash ends up as messy as you.”

That makes Rook laugh earnestly, her bruises aching as she does. She feels much more comfortable with this conversation. “Not everyone can stay behind and shoot… magic beams like you.” Rook says, a playful tone to her voice. “A rogue’s gotta get her hands dirty.”

Emmrich pauses as if he was going to correct her, but ultimately just sighs. “Yes, it would be fine if it were just your hands.” Emmrich brings the cloth forward to her shoulder. “You have blood inside your ears.”

“I mean...” Rook shrugs, sucking in a breath as he begins to gently scrub the dried blood from the side of her neck. She feels the sting as he cleans out one of the fresh cuts right above her clavicle, just shallow enough that it didn’t tear into anything important. “I have big ears. Hard to keep ‘em from getting involved in the action.”

“Still, you should be more careful, Rook.” Emmrich says, reaching up to wipe off a smear of blood off her cheek. The warmth of the cloth feels nice against her skin. “I have the utmost confidence in your skills, but you do have a tendency towards recklessness.”

“You sound like Myrna.” She mumbles, tilting her head down so he can clean a cut right above her eyebrow. Rook didn’t even realize she had gotten that one, her body felt like one giant ball of hurt. It was hard to pinpoint the little injuries.

Emmrich seemed to spot them all, though.

“I can tell Myrna cares a great deal for your well-being.” He says, rinsing the cloth out in the bath water. He wrings it out once again; the water takes on a reddish hue. “As do I. As does everyone here, for that matter.”

Rook opens her mouth to respond, but then Emmrich brings the cloth up to one of her ears. It’s just a quick swipe, but it makes her shiver. Instinctively, Rook jerks her head back, her cheeks warm as she pulls away from his hand.

“Did I hurt you?” Emmrich asks, eyes wide as he pulls his hand away, laying the cloth over the edge of the tub. “I apologize, I didn’t notice any cuts there. Do you want me to take a look?”

“No, no…” Rook says with a huff, bringing a hand up to rub at the spot he had touched, trying to play off her overreaction. She can feel the flush in her skin. “I’m just sensitive there. I’ll get it.” Rook brushes her hair back, picking up the cloth and scrubbing at both of her ears, unable to make eye contact with Emmrich as she does so.

When she thinks she’s gotten herself all clean, she looks back at Emmrich. She notices that his cheeks have taken on a rosy hue. Rook clears her throat.

“Did I get everything?” She asks, turning her head from side to side. Emmrich seems to regain his bearings quickly. He nods.

“Yes, it looks like it.” He says. “And I apologize, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I wasn’t aware that elven ears were so… sensitive, as you said.”

Rook snorts. “I guess that wouldn’t be in the textbooks, huh?” She says, teasing. “That information would be saved for more… raunchy works of literature.”

“Even so, it is fascinating. I shall keep it in mind.” Emmrich says, a playful spark in his green eyes. “Now, allow me to wash your hair, my dear. Scoot forward, if you will.”

Rook does as he asks, the ends of her hair touching the top of the water and sticking to her skin in inky strands. He scoops the water gently and lets it wet her fluffy hair. She wrinkles her nose as she sees the water turn red as it runs down her shoulders.

“...Okay, maybe I did get a little carried away today.” She says with a sigh, her shoulders slumping forward. In the stillness of Emmrich’s room, his gentle combing of his slender fingers through her wet hair, it’s hard for her to hold back the tide of emotion she felt about Weisshaupt.

It felt odd to even be alive. Breathing air that was borrowed from another. She had reassured Davrin earlier that it was not a sin to be alive, and she had meant it when she said it to him. But she was their leader, and she made sure to tidy her room before she had left.

“Would you like to talk about it?” He asks, sensing her hesitance. His words are as gentle as his hands as he massages shampoo into her hair. It smells earthy, like moss and patchouli; it reminds her of the smell of the Memorial Gardens after the morning dew.

It’s comforting, familiar. Rook takes a breath, lungs aching in protest, but the feeling of his fingers scratching at her scalp dull that ache. She doesn’t remember ever being touched so gently.

“About… today?” She asks. Rook absentmindedly traces her fingers over the surface of the water, watching as it ripples through the tub. Where would she even start? “I don’t even know what to say. It was awful.”

Emmrich nods, letting the shampoo rest in her hair for a moment. “It was. So much loss of life, it’s almost hard to believe such a thing could happen on such a scale…” Emmrich puts a hand on her shoulder, brushing his thumb over her bruised collarbone. Unlike her own, his hands are soft. “But you did all that you could. Without you, Rook, without Davrin… I fear the cost may have been much higher. You mitigated the loss of life. You made Ghilan’nain mortal, that is a feat none but you can brag about.”

Rook turns her head, looking up into his eyes for anger or disappointment. Those emotions she could work with – sincerity she could not. It makes her tired eyes sting with emotion.

Rook nods, slowly, his words slowly seeping into her skin. She wonders if the heroes of the past ever felt so lost. Did the Hero of Ferelden wonder if she could’ve done more, fist clenched tightly in her lover’s tunic as both herself and the Archdemon breathed their last? Did the Champion of Kirkwall ever feel hopeless against the city that took and took and took ever more still from her? Did the Herald of Andraste ever regret not striking the head of the wolf that nipped at her heels?

Even the thought of lumping herself in with them makes her feel like she’s overestimated her importance. She feels any of her companions could easily replace her.

“We all did that, together.” Rook says, softly. She’s thankful when Emmrich starts to rinse out her hair; the bath water was starting to get cold.

“And yet you’re the only one with blight in your hair.” Emmrich replies, a small smile on his lips. He scoops another handful of water over her head, running his fingers through the tangles, gently brushing out any knots. “All of us came back alive. You told us earlier that you considered that a win, it’s time you believed that, too.”

“I… do believe it. If anything would’ve happened to you all–”

“You’re alive as well, Rook.” Emmrich says, pausing his ministrations to look her in the eye. Rook feels she can’t look away, not now. “And what a wonderful thing that is.”

“I…” Rook starts, but once again she’s left without any witty retort. “You truly believe so?”

Emmrich softens, his voice breathy. “Yes, of course I do, my dear.” He combs his fingers through her hair once more, just to touch her. “I am so grateful to have met you, even if it had to be under circumstances such as these.”

Rook laughs, genuine, rubbing at one of her eyes. Damn, she must be tired if she was letting herself get teary-eyed in front of him. “I’m sure we would’ve met anyways. Eventually.” She says, her smile sheepish as she leans back against the back of the tub. “Or maybe we have met before. The Mourn Watch isn’t that big of an organization.”

“I would’ve never forgotten anyone as wonderful as you.” Emmrich answers. “Now, before you catch a cold, let’s get you out of the bath. Do you need help standing?”

Rook shakes her head. Even as tired as she was, the thought of him helping her out of the bath was a mortifying one. “No, it’s alright. I’m not so helpless that I need to be carried back to my room.”

Emmrich laughs, his eyes crinkling as he does so. “I know that you are not helpless.” He says, firmly, playfully. “But you can lean on us from time to time. A burden shared is a burden halved, as they say. I know if I were injured you would do the same.”

“I wouldn’t let you get injured in the first place.” Rook mumbles in reply. Emmrich walks behind the dividing curtain that separates the wash tub from the rest of his room, allowing Rook privacy. Slowly, she stands, her vision blurring momentarily as her body adjusts to standing. The cool air of the room makes her shiver as she reaches for a towel to dry herself off with. “But I wouldn’t mind carrying you.”

Emmrich lets out an incredulous huff. “I’m almost a head taller than you. I don’t think that would end well for either of us.”

“I’m up for the challenge.” She teases back, throwing the wet towel over the side of the bath. Rook starts to dress herself, thankful that she brought her baggier clothes. She can’t imagine trying to wrestle her belts around her waist in this state. When she’s done, she reaches down and collects her dirtied armor; it feels heavier in her arms than it had any right being. “Alright, I’m all done. Think I’m gonna go to sleep for three days straight now.”

Rook runs a hand through her wet hair, pushing it out of her eyes. Emmrich turns to face her, a slight smile on his lips. “Ah, well then, I’ll not keep you any longer. Get some rest, my dear. And do let me know if you need me to look at those bruises.”

“Yeah…” She leans against the door frame, feeling like there’s something more she needs to say. Whatever it is, it’s lost in the recesses of her tired mind. “Thanks, Emmrich.”

“It’s no problem at all.” His gaze is gentle, and she turns her head away. Too much emotion for one night. “Sweet dreams, Rook.”

Rook lingers for a moment more, then she turns, leaving the warmth of his room for the stillness of her own. She collapses, boneless and exhausted, onto the chaise lounge in the middle of her room.

Tomorrow would come, and she would be alive to live it. Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing.

#emmrich volkarin #emmrich volkarin x rook #emmrook #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age #datv #fluff #hurt/comfort #fic #expect more of this <3

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lkblackham · 7 days ago

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Ship Sleep Dynamics: Atash Laidir x Emmrich Volkarin Edition

(repost of probably one of my favourite paintings I've ever done ever)

I was tagged by the awesome @dragonracer for this little exercise. Thanks!

I have the say that, being ace-spec, this kind of cuddle intimacy is very very very much my jam. So of COURSE I've thought this through way too thoroughly:

How often do they sleep together?

Oh, once they come to that point in their relationship, it is every single night. Atash pretty much only uses the meditation room for getting dressed and actually meditating. In my little HC universe, Atash actually hates sleeping alone (grew up in a big family, didn't even have her own bed until she was an adult, has deeply entrenched trauma from being shut up in slaver brigs as a little kid) and before Emmrich offered his bed, she would sleep in random public spaces around the Lighthouse (the kitchen, the library, etc.) where people would be passing through regularly during the day.

Where do they sleep?

I am one of the “Emmrich has a hidden bedroom behind one of the bookshelves” people. It is perfectly keeping in character, and out of all the team he's the most likely to succeed in “convincing” the Lighthouse to give him his own bedroom. He would also likely be the most motivated to do so - he’s very active and fit, but come on. Man is not gonna endure a dinky little infirmary cot.

How do they prepare to sleep?

Emmrich is very regimented, with a strict routine he adheres to come hell or high water. It involves the normal bedtime stuff like brushing teeth, but also includes his skincare routine and a short meditation session to transition his mind from “work” to “sleep” mode. This is what he's referring to when he offers to teach Bellara breathing exercises to help her sleep.

Atash is very much a delay-er when it comes to sleeping, so the first part of her preparations is just avoiding going to bed as long as possible. Eventually, she does a quick face wash and teeth brushing, and then settles in for a long night of staring at the ceiling and feeling deep existential dread. Luckily, there's also a hefty stack of erotic novels by her couch.

Since she started sleeping with Emmrich, though, her sleep hygiene has significantly improved. But she still has her stack of erotic novels close by. They often read together before they go to sleep, but they have made a hard rule to not allow anything academic or mission-related in their room. They’d never sleep otherwise.

What do they wear to sleep?

I'm gonna have to echo all the other EmmRook people out there and say Emmrich's definitely a silk/satin pajama man (although he says it like ‘pyjamas’, which should ostensibly sound exactly the same as ‘pajamas’ but he somehow manages to pronounce the ‘y’ differently). He has several sets, as well as several dressing gowns and slippers. The man loves clothes and he rocks it.

Atash just takes everything off and sleeps in the nude, or her smallclothes. She doesn't really see the point in pajamas/pyjamas, for which Emmrich is initially torn between feeling dismay and slightly salacious appreciation. He doesn’t mind it in the privacy of their room but gets really embarrassed when Atash just casually answers the door without any clothes. Rivaini, I tell you. So shameless.

Do they cuddle?

Oh, they cuddle. They cuddle hard. They are both very touchy feely people and Atash hasn’t had anyone to hug (apart from Harding - Varric is not a huggy person) for over a year. Again, coming from a big family of equally huggy people, she’s been absolutely starved for affectionate touch and is so happy to meet someone who is willing to give it, even before they figure out they “like like” each other. And although it is literally officially fully canon that Emmrich gives the best hugs, he hasn’t really had anyone to give hugs to before joining the Veilguard. He becomes the group’s Resident Hugger very quickly. Members of the team will just come into his office looking sad, he’ll open his arms, they’ll hug, and then they continue on with their day. Atash is the first who’s willing to fully reciprocate and give him cuddly attention, though, and he’s really into it.

What are their preferred sleep positions?

This is where it gets a little bit complicated. Atash has Big Ass Horns that she can't sleep directly on, and has to ensure that her head is immobile while she's sleeping so she doesn't roll around in her sleep and accidentally wrench her neck or thwack her partner. She also is significantly heavier than Emmrich (seven feet tall and 230 lbs. vs. six-foot-four and 145 lbs. soaking wet) and so has to make sure she doesn't roll over him either. She would prefer to be draped all over him all night with her head on his chest and her limbs all wrapped around him, but physiology forces her to use a special Qunari pillow that props up her horns, cradling her neck, and doesn't really allow for any other position besides sleeping on her back.

She's very very bummed about this, particularly after finding a partner. Sleeping on your back gets real boring, and deep in her soul she's really a side sleeper. And dammit she wants to cuddle.

Emmrich, for his part, is a side sleeper, and before Atash he would generally sleep very neatly and tidily with his arms across his body - sort of hugging himself to sleep. All his previous partners have been human or elves smaller than him, and so he's used to being the Big Spoon.

With Atash, he's now found himself in the novel position of being the smaller partner, and finds himself rather enjoying it. His preferred position is laying his head on her chest, arm wrapped over her, other arm tucked up against his body, legs tucked through and over hers. Just as snuggled up as he can possibly be. She wraps an arm around him and likes to massage his head to lull him to sleep.

After Atash gets her horns broken off in the fight with Ghilan'nain at Tearstone, her grief over her horns is greatly soothed by the fact that she can now spoon Emmrich properly and be fully spooned in return. She can rest her head on his shoulder. She can lay her head in his lap. She can nestle. She's never been able to nestle before. She loves this so much she actually seriously considers keeping her horns short. But Qunari tradition/vanity wins out in the end. It's very taboo to intentionally file down your horns, even among the Vashoth.

How easy do they fall asleep?

When she's not alone, Atash is just out like a light the minute she closes her eyes. She's gotten very very good at sleeping anywhere (as long as she's got a pillow or couch arm or sack of coffee beans or bundled up shirt to prop her horns on) and has no trouble just conking out anytime anywhere at will.

Emmrich takes a bit. In his youth, he really struggled with anxiety-induced insomnia, and during times of particularly intense stress (which, like, is pretty much his whole life while he's at the Lighthouse) he needs a bit of time to talk, cuddle, read, soothe his racing thoughts until he can fall asleep. Atash's head massages have been very therapeutic to this end.

Do they toss and turn a lot?

Atash probably would if she weren't rendered immobile by pillows, and when she loses her horns she does go through a period of thrashing around in her sleep due to PTSD-induced nightmares. For his own safety, Emmrich had to put up a pillow barrier between them for a while, which absolutely broke both their hearts. If he were really pragmatic, he would have just slept in a separate bed altogether, but neither of them can even stand the thought. Thankfully this period doesn't last long (the thrashing, not the PTSD, sadly) and they're cuddling again in no time.

Do they snore?

Atash does. Sleeping on her back and having an ever so slightly deviated septum causes her to snore pretty loudly, which means she is very easy to find when she’s napping around the Lighthouse. She's initially very self conscious about this when she starts sleeping with Emmrich, but he actually finds it rather charming in a funny, cozy kind of way. He even finds himself profoundly missing the sound (to the point of not being able to sleep) when she's trapped in Solas’ Fade prison.

He himself does not snore at all, of course. Maker forbid.

Who hogs the blanket?

Being a Qunari, born in the tropics of Par Vollen and raised on the warm, sunny coast of Rivain, Atash gets cold very easily and will hog all the blanket if the temperature is anywhere below Bright Rivaini Summer’s Day. Snuggling with a partner helps, of course, but she is very big and has a lot of body to warm up. Thankfully, the Lighthouse is pretty temperate and she even forgoes blankets altogether on some nights.

Anywhere else… well, Emmrich's learned to pack three blankets instead of just one (one for him, two for her).

Emmrich does not hog. He discreetly and politely scoots the blanket from underneath his partner until it mostly covers him on cold nights.

What do they dream about?

Atash and Emmrich never remember their dreams - unless they're particularly bad nightmares. Depending on how stressed he is, Emmrich will sometimes have night terrors - full-on panic attacks in his sleep, thrashing and whimpering and hyperventilating and clawing at his hair and sheets. Atash has learned not to immediately wake him up in these moments (the disorientation makes the anxiety way worse) but instead gently holds him (not trapping him, just a light touch) humming and speaking softly and quietly, usually repeating their breathing exercises. This helps him settle down gradually, easing awake and then back into peaceful sleep.

Atash has her own nightmares after the Fade prison, expressed through violent thrashing initially, gradually evolving to curling up into a fetal position and sobbing quietly. Emmrich does actually wake her up when it gets to that point of despair, gently bringing her back to reality and then soothing her back to sleep.

How easily do they wake up?

Emmrich, being such an early riser, seems like he should wake easily, but the truth is the man is a creature of routine and he does not appreciate being awoken before his usual wake-up time. It’s very very hard to get him to wake up before dawn.

Atash, on the other hand, is up immediately no matter what time she’s awoken, ready to go at any second.

How awake are they afterwards?

When his schedule is respected, Emmrich is quite bright and energized after waking up. He is a morning person and enjoys every second of consciousness he possibly can.

Atash isn’t exactly a ‘morning person’, per se, but she is definitely a “well, if I’m up I’m up, let’s get to work,” person. So she’s not happy but she’s getting on with it.

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