Chapter Text
[Letter pinned to Manfred’s coat jacket. The young apprentice was seen skipping happily down the hall towards the infirmary. Reports indicate that he was overly pleased with himself to be tasked on such an important quest at the behest of his father.]
Hello Margaret,
I was hoping you would be so kind as to recommend some natural remedies for nausea?
My bride has been quite poorly these past few days. My understanding was that such symptoms were only to occur in the mornings, but clearly that is a flawed conclusion based upon Evie’s experience. The waves seem to come upon her unbidden and often with no discernible cause. Yes, some episodes do seem to be triggered by events such as a particularly strong olfactory response, but others have no correlation to events at all. Please advise if this is a normal occurrence for the first trimester.
I have consulted several books, but their differing perspectives have only left me more concerned than before I looked further into such matters. I have several other questions I will ask upon our appointment next month, but the most pressing issue is my beloved’s continued health. Such episodes of nausea have limited her ability to take in necessary nutrients in this critical period.
I have tried to aid her in these moments as best I am able, but based on the empirical evidence I have gathered such remedies already known to me have little effect thus far. Surely there must be something else that can mollify these episodes, or lessen her suffering? It is most distressing watching her endure while I am helpless to intervene on her behalf.
Any recommendations, or natural remedies would be most joyously appreciated. I also ask for your discretion on this matter. My Evelyn did not wish to trouble you about matters she discerns as trivial. To be asked to do nothing but bare witness to her continued anguish through such trials without efforts to lessen the effects? That, I cannot abide.
Please deliver your response and any other effects to young Manfred. He was quite willing to aid his father in such an effort to ease Evelyn’s suffering.
Thank you for aid in this delicate matter,
Emmrich Volkarin
I hissed a sigh through my nose, white-knuckling my mug of peppermint tea. The warmth had long since seeped away, and I lacked both the desire and excess energy to warm it to make it palatable again. Moving day morning had started abysmally when I had woken from a dead sleep with an ominous churning in my gut and my mouth salivating. Frantically, I had scrambled from our bed on shaky legs still ensnared in our nest of blankets, only to face-plant painfully to the floor. Breathless and already silently heaving, I had attempted to crawl the few paces that separated the bedroom to the bathroom attached to the main sitting room.
I didn’t make it.
Franny, who had been asleep on the loveseat, had come over to pet my hair while Emmrich and Manfred cleaned up my mess. To my horror, I didn’t just cry from embarrassment–I started whimpering. It was only through Emmrich’s foresight in bringing me a bowl that I avoided making such a scene a second time. I couldn’t recall what soothing things Emmrich had comforted me with. All that remained in my haze of mortification was the strength of his arms as he helped me to the loveseat and his tenderness as he tucked me in under warm blankets.
Emmrich had prepared a small breakfast of toast (which I did not touch) and peppermint tea (which I had sipped) for our breakfast. Then he sent Franny back to our bed for a few more hours rest and Manfred on some last minute errand. In that time I had only watched the flickering flames in the grate of our sitting room, dissociating from reality while waiting for the nausea episode to pass. Emmrich sat quietly next to me, patiently holding his tongue from starting up our continued disagreement.
In my peripheral vision, I watched my husband cast worried glances between the book he pretended to read and my sorry self. I could feel his worry like a tangible thing, like one would wear a scarf around their neck on a chilly morning. That overwhelming feeling filled my chest again–what I now recognized as love so painfully big it threatened to burst out of my ribcage.
He had only left my side once his students arrived to see his unusually disheveled state. With his hair mussed from sleep and still in his dressing robe, Emmrich instructed them to start moving the boxes in the kitchenette first. He then took charge of everything else that needed getting done to make everyone presentable.
Helplessly, I watched from my loveseat perch at the chaos unfolding around me with unfocused eyes drenched in misery. I had not moved to do anything to help. I had remained curled in the upright fetal position Emmrich had left me in after he wrapped me in my own dressing robe to preserve my modesty in front of all our visitors.
My episodes of illness struck with a cruel vengeance since my fainting spell in the infirmary. It was as if I had unknowingly awoken a sleeping dragon, hellbent on sinking its claws deep, with a mercurial ebb and flow only nature understood. Mercifully, Emmrich had taken over the leadership of our move between the apartments. It had been a small blessing that Emmrich had been put on light duty as he recovered from his injury. I had little physical or mental energy to continue our moving efforts, nor to lead the organization of what things must go where in our new rooms.
The new spot was only a few hallways down from our current residence, and where most young families with children occupied. Franny had been thrilled to tour the new space yesterday, and ecstatic to learn we would be located on the same hall as Margaret’s two little girls, with whom she had become fast friends. Manfred seemed ambivalent about the new space apart from the fact that Franny would come to live with us permanently.
My musings were cut short when I overheard whispered conversation from the bedroom, my silent vigil and presence clearly forgotten. The accompanying sounds of screwdrivers, and muffled curses led me to believe they were taking the bed frame apart so they could move it.
An appreciative whistle, followed by a jealous sigh drawled, “Damn…this is a nice spot. My whole ass apartment is the size of their bedroom. Plus, I have to share it with you, Jurian.”
“Well, you are a delight to live with." His companion snorted. "I don’t mind your aggressive snoring at all. Really, I am living the dream. And damn, what is this bed frame made from? It’s fucking massive. Is this one of those Dalish trees? But…you are right about one thing, Abelard. I thought only married, or civil partnership couples got a starter unit like this one. It even has a small kitchen and space for a dining table.”
“And a fireplace? Might as well throw a bearskin rug down to really complete the bachelor pad image." Jurian echoed. "God, who did he have to shag to get an apartment like this when he was still single?”
“More like ‘who did he shag in this apartment?’ Guess that’s what being a corpse-whisperer will do for you. The council wants to keep him happy. He even had a private bathroom? What a sweet setu–Oh fucking hell–Jurian, duck!”
I heard something fall with a loud crash and then a resounding shatter, followed by a chorus of curses that would make even Taash blush.
“Damn, that vase looked expensive." Abelard eked out after a moment of silence. "You think they will notice if we toss it?”
“Think we can blame it on Manfred? He seems clumsy.”
“No, Jurian…” Abelard accused with a voice dripping with exactly how much of an imbecile he thought his friend was. “I don’t think we can ‘blame it’ on the Professor’s son. Who isn’t even here. He can talk now, anyway.”
Another silence followed with the sounds of glass being brushed into a waste basket.
“If I were him, I wouldn’t want to give this place up. I’d keep it just in case things don’t work out." Jurian sighed before continuing to take the bed apart. "Or if I wanted to bring someone home with me–on the down low.”
“Sure, Jurian. I bet that would go over very well with Mrs. Volkarin too. ‘Don’t mind me honey, just going to do my office hours with Beatrice. She made an appointment for some private lessons. Don’t wait up.’”
“Gods. Don’t even bring up Beatrice. She’s so pathetically transparent. It’s like him getting married only increased her desperation to ensnare him. And he’s never even looked at her twice–even before he went on sabbatical.”
“Did you see that dress she wore to the celebration dinner welcoming them back?" Abelard laughed. "Her breasts were practically popping out of her dress it was so skin-tight.”
“Yeah, Volkarin didn’t even say more than hello before he returned to Ingellvar. I thought Beatrice would combust right there in a cloud of jealousy." Jurian echoed in a knowing chuckle. "I mean, have you seen Mrs. Volkarin? Gods, what a woman. I’d look at her like she hung the moon and stars too if she was in my bed.”
“You’ll cut that out if you know what’s good for you. Volkarin is the jealous type. Did you see that glare he gave Edwin in the infirmary when he wouldn’t move out of his way when she fainted? Fucking terrifying. I wouldn’t want to fight a duel with him over her. I’m confident it would be to the death.”
“Well, Edwin is an ass to everyone but Mrs. Volkarin and that little girl of hers. That tracks.”
“Volkarin has been different since he returned. He certainly seems happier. He’s all easy smiles now. Holds himself a little taller. Has he gained some muscle? I remember him being a little more…willowy? I don’t think that’s the right word, but it works.”
“You noticed too? I noticed on the expedition that he’s much more intense in the field. Like he’s always watching for danger. Before…It was like he was always on the edge of wandering off when he got distracted by something, or showing something to Manfred.”
“Of course I remember. We would draw straws for the person on ‘Volkarin watch’ every day. Somebody had to refocus him when he got too lost in the sauce and make sure he didn’t fall off a ledge. We were always a few days late returning because of his lollygagging anyway. But this time…it was like he was in a hurry to come back as soon as possible. All business.”
A few minutes of silence followed as more sounds of tools continued disassembling our bed set.
“What are the odds she outlives him and still looks half as hot? You think I have a chance?”
Incensed at the idea, Abelard protested with what I recognized as a tinge of jealousy, “I think you are a fucking idiot, Jurian. That’s what I think. Maybe you should ask Beatrice out.”
“Fat chance, Abelard.” There was a shyness in his voice as he replied. “You know she’s only interested in money anyway.”
Then my attention was diverted by another young graduate student entering the empty den struggling with a heavy wooden chest. He stammered out, cheeks flushed from exertion and perhaps a touch of bashfulness, “Mrs. Volkarin, I retrieved Franny’s trunk as requested from the girl’s ward. Which bedroom shall I place it in the new apartment? The one closest to the kitchen, or the one next to the master bedroom?”
I blinked up at the strapping young man before me with eyes dry as the hissing wastes and a parched throat to match. He was a head taller than myself, and the picture of a young academic in his prime, with lean muscles and strong facial features just emerging from the grips of being a baby-faced young adult. I could not recall his name, but remembered him from Emmrich’s ill-fated expedition into the crypts not long ago.
My only response to his question was yet another long hissing sigh through my nose as I white-knuckled the handle of my mug.
The young mage blanched and stuttered out a rushed apology of, “I’ll ask the professor instead. He’s on his way back. Sorry to trouble you, ma’am.”
A cacophony of panicky whispers rushed from the bedroom. “Oh, Andraste’s flaming–” “Has she been here the whole fucking time?” “Oh my gods, I’m going to jump from the memorial gardens into the abyss.” “You think I should fake my death, or apologize? ” “What if we both fake our deaths.” “We take the lifts and never leave the lower levels again. We could eat insects right?” “Start a new life in Hosberg wetlands.” “Jurian, you know I can’t live in a swamp. It’d ruin my complexion.” “Fine, you come up with the–”
“Evelyn…” Emmrich crooned softly in relief, appearing behind me with a gentle caress of my forehead to gauge my temperature. He tutted disapprovingly at whatever he found, and pulled the blanket up higher from where it had drooped. “Still chilled to the bone, my poor darling.”
Then he reached over me to the rim of the tea. With a small, controlled stream of magic he warmed the liquid to where it steamed beautifully and I smelled the aroma of fresh Arlathan mint. In silent thanks, I took another sip and closed my eyes in a sigh.
“I am dreadfully sorry, my love. I left you far longer than I intended.” Emmrich apologized, leaning down to deliver a soft kiss to the crown of my head. “My students were very kind to volunteer to help us but they have no sense of where things belong. While Franny and Manfred mean well when they aim to help…”
An excited hiss interrupted his meandering train of thought. Our skeleton son sprinted into the room with a stride that screamed ‘I return victorious’. He stopped in front of me practically vibrating with his happiness. He unbuttoned his coat and unzipped his pack, which he still kept in his ribcage. Out spilled a heap of individually wrapped hard candies and a parcel the size of my fist.
“Mar-gt. Gin’andy. Rook!” Manfred cried out shrilly in excitement, holding up a singular candy an inch from my face.
“Manfred–they are all over the floor.” Emmrich sighed long sufferingly. “This is not what I sent you for. Oh, but do help me gather them.”
Manfred’s eyes fell to the floor, and his jaw fell open. “Oops. Floor.”
He dropped the candy into my cup with a plop, and then stooped to help his father gather the candies back into his pack. Once finished, Emmrich placed a few of the candies into his pockets and then turned the abandoned parcel over to view a folded note attached. He raised back up with a hitch in his breathing, his back still a little tender from his misadventure I surmised silently.
“Ah, thank goodness. She sent along a note.” Emmrich smiled, eyeing Manfred ruefully. He fished his half moon reading glasses from his pocket and read through his correspondence. Whatever he found made his smile brighten.
My husband gave me a relieved smile over the rims. Then he unwrapped one of the candies and held it to my lips. I eyed him cautiously, but took what he offered me. The taste of it burned like cinnamon for a moment, before it softened into a medical sugary taste of ginger. Instantly, my clenching stomach relaxed and I was able to take a full breath.
“Holy shit. What the fuck is this?” I croaked through my parched throat.
“Language, my love.” Emmrich eyed me over his slutty little spectacles, every inch the disapproving professor in that moment. “Margaret has sent over a supply of candied ginger from the confectionary shop in the city. She has also sent along a sample of ground ginger tea.”
Emmrich turned to our boy. “Manfred, you have done well. Please, go check on Franny? I left her organizing her dolls, and she promised to put away her clothes in her new wardrobe. Perhaps with your help she could dress her bed in clean sheets? We will have much unpacking to do over the next few weeks, but the priority is a comfortable place to rest for the night.”
“Yes!” Manfred hissed, clapping his hands at the praise. Then he turned about-face, following his father’s next instruction. “Go. Help.”
Without another word to me Emmrich took my mug from my hand and wandered into our bedroom. “Ah, Jurian and Abelard, you are almost finished. I appreciate your resourcefulness in taking the bed apart. Could you both aid Timothy in relocating the bookcases by the hearth? Beatrice has offered to reshelve the collection for me but she would require the bookshelves themselves to do such a thing.”
A shaky chorus of affirmative noises followed before I heard shuffling feet. When they entered the room they looked everywhere else but me. Then they turned their backs to wrestle the first of the bookcases out of the wall.
When the last of candy dissolved on my tongue I felt the familiar creeping sense of nausea curling in the pit of my stomach. I burrowed my head under the blankets to hide away from the world. My eyes stung with tears of frustration, and my lips trembled from the crushing disappointment of withdrawal.
“Jurian, quit whingeing and get on with it.” One of the grad students whispered angrily at the other. “I can’t carry this fucking thing myself. You have to carry your weight.”
“I’m trying Abe,” Jurian hissed back, out of breath and straining. “This thing is taller than we are. I told you we should wait for Tim–Oh, fuck, it’s tipping. It’s tipping–Abe!”
A scrabble of squeaking shoes, and muttered curses was broken by the shattering of a mug on the floor and an eerie moment of silence. It was as if all the air in the room disappeared.
“Ancestors have mercy.” “Professor–Thank Andraste.”
When I poked my head out of my burrow I was greeted to the sight of the edge of the bookshelf less than a foot from my upturned face. It was suspended by a familiar hazy green magic outline.
“I think that is quite enough excitement for one morning.” Emmrich replied, his voice clipped and his smile a tight, forced thing as he righted the shelf back on its feet. “Do take more care to not overestimate your abilities in the future. Asking for help is a strength not a weakness.”
Wrapped in the blanket like a burrito Emmrich led me past the still steaming mug fragments with a warm, guiding hand at my back. “Evelyn, let us relocate you to Franny’s room. With luck, her bed is available for you to rest undisturbed.”
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I awoke from my dreamless sleep nestled in Franny’s new princessa style, four-poster bed. The sheer organza canopy enveloped all sides in a pink film that matched the softest silk sheets belonging to only the most particular orlesian duchess. I rolled over with the intention of going back to sleep when a sharp, spindly voice began harping criticism with the viciousness of a lioness going for its prey’s jugular.
“No, no, no. You silly girl-child, you cannot pair those blue slippers with the teal ball gown. And that green masquerade mask? It’s far too gauche! I do not care for such nonsense as they suffer in Orlais. Though I must admit I find the ruffles on this one much more pleasing than the pleating of its pink ilk.”
My bleary eyes boggled as my foggy mind insisted the owner of the voice could not be here. When I peaked my head out of the curtains I was greeted with the sight of Franny twirling and sashaying her newest outfits before a disembodied skull haunting her dressing table.
I only managed to croak out a bewildered, “Johanna?”
At my outburst those glowing embers of veilfire green cast their attention my way with a haughty aura of disdain. “How many other talking skulls does Volkarin have custody of? Of course it’s me!”
Her eyes smoldered as she eyed me up and down in judgement. “The girl does speak the truth. You look like death warmed over. I thought you were skin and bones before, but your cheeks are looking more sunken than last I saw you. Oh, and the flame of your life force…Girl! Retrieve Volkarin at once. I must reprimand him for his mistreatment of his paramour.”
“Miss Hezenkoss!” Franny squealed, finding her commands funny rather than demeaning. Ignoring her entirely with her own patented brand of selective listening, she puttered around her room and rummaged through boxes to find something. Not finding it in the open boxes on the ground she then eyed at the box above her armoire with one hand on her hip and the other outstretched. “Freddie, hand?”
Manfred abandoned the clothes he had been obediently folding and putting away in her dresser to wander over to her like a dog might follow the call of its favorite master. Without comment, he detached his right arm from his socket and bestowed it to her like a knight would relinquish his sword.
With a grunt he then hoisted her small frame on his left shoulder like a seat and secured her legs against himself with his remaining arm. Once she was raised in the air, she held the hand up to where it could delve into the open box.
“The paints, please.” The elvish adolescent commanded, with all the regality that rivaled the highborn Nevarran ladies who sometimes visited our halls dripping with their finest jewels and highest fashions.
Manfred’s disembodied arm removed a book and held it up to the light.
“No. The paint set. Try again.”
“Know!” Manfred grumbled, and then his arm pulled out a sequence of 3 more things from the box that were still not the paint set.
“Franny, I can bring the box down with my magic…rather than you doing…all that?” I offered, though I was suspiciously curious how long such hijinks had been occurring without Emmrich or I knowing. I wondered vaguely if this had anything to do with Manfred’s arm dislocating so easily on our ill-fated candy shop outing.
Manfred, still holding a suspended Franny, turned to face me with an angry answering hiss. “No! Magic! Bad!”
“Eloquent as always.” Johanna laughed derisively and without joy.
After 2 more false starts, at last Manfred plucked the right package from the box of wonders, which caused an outcry of triumph from the duo. Manfred returned Franny to the ground with a gentle huff of exertion. Once righted, she placed the retrieved paint set on her activity table and returned Manfred’s arm to his socket with an expert precision that rivaled Emmrich’s.
“Thank you, Freddie.” She inclined her head with all the demure grace of a fine lady, before turning back to Johanna. “What color flower do you want? My favorite color is pink. Manfred really likes green. Mama and Papa like purple. What is yours?”
Johanna grumbled unintelligibly, then muttered grumpily, “A vibrant jade has always called to me more than others.”
Franny tilted her head to the side, eyeing the deluxe paint set of 36 colors she had convinced Emmrich to splurge on. “Jade is really, really green? Like a medium green?”
Franny opened the set on her craft table and mixed colors on the middle section. She took a small dab of a swatch on her arm and held the color up for Johanna’s inspection.
“Brighter. That green is too dark.”
Franny nodded, adjusting the color before showing her again.
“I suppose that will do. If it’s your best effort.”
Franny huffed and tried again.
“Much better. See, what a resourceful girl you are.”
Rising from the sheets I exited the room without comment, and excused myself to the hallway restroom to dunk my face into the coldest water the basin could manage. When the tingling shock of goosebumps proved I was not still dreaming or fade-walking I wandered to the living room to find nearly everything in its place in the hours I was unconscious.
The entry room was a more spacious copy of our previous sitting room. The hearth burned cozily with a green tinge of veilfire. Bracketing it was the same matching sets of bookshelves that almost injured me that morning, but rather than empty they were once again packed to the brim with books. The new fuzzy rug Emmrich and I had selected together softened the cool stone floor. Though I would not admit to him, his wisdom of the blue rather than the red hue did tie the room together much better. Our same love seat with a larger twin rounded the family space and served to divide the middle of the cavernous room.
The remaining space was a conjoined open concept kitchen and dining space. The majority of said dining space was dominated by a large 8 person dining table that could be expanded to seat 16. The kitchen held its own large, antiquated oven, a kitchen island, and assorted pantry storage space.
Seeing no one around, I picked up one of the kitchen boxes by the door with the intention of putting things away. I had held it only for a moment and taken only one step when Manfred rounded the corner with a surprising urgency. Then he rushed at me like an archdemon was on his heels. Clearly he had been assigned to watch me, rather than Franny.
“No!” Manfred hissed, ripping the box from my grasp. “Emm’ich. Rook. Rest!”
“Manfred?” I raised an eyebrow in confusion before his meaning sunk in. I groused, “I’m pregnant, not an invalid. And I feel fine now. I can at least unpack a few boxes.”
“So please, the box?” I gestured for him to return it to me.
Manfred twisted so I couldn’t take the box back. “Nooo! Rest!”
Then I threw my hands up in frustration and reached for a different box.
Not one to be outdone, Manfred dropped his current box with a graceless thud (and accompanying sound of something porcelain shattering) only to wrestle the new one away from my arms again.
I attempted my most intimidating glare, but it lost something with us being at eye-level. “Manfred, I’m not nauseous anymore. And I’m perfectly fine to lift things that are not heavy.”
Manfred stomped his feet in barely restrained fury from his big emotions. He chastised again, crying out in growing agitation, “Bad! Rook. Bad!”
When his tantrum only produced a roll of my eyes he pulled me by my wrist towards the room that was to be Emmrich’s study. When we entered it was jam packed with a gaggle of graduate students all busy on their own assigned unpacking tasks. The familiar backs of Jurian and Abelard had been enlisted to re-shelve Emmrich’s vast collection of books alongside a blonde with a braid down to her waist.
When my attention shifted to my favorite necromancer I noticed with a pang of displeasure that he was seated with his head in his hands at his desk.
Franny held Johanna up towards her father with both hands as the half-lich, now bedecked in green flowers, howled her own displeasure at him. “And another thing—how could you leave me with that bore of a man, Calenhad? His hobby is collecting exotic butterflies and hanging them along his wall. How depressing! He is just as dull in conversation. If I was forced to listen to another one of his tirades about the embassy of Serehon in the Exalted Age I might have drug myself by my teeth off the edge of the memorial gardens.”
“Johanna—I have already explained this thrice to you.” Emmrich pinched the bridge of his nose, and his tone told me he was dredging from the well of his patience. “Myrna assigned you to Calenhad’s custody temporarily. My intention, now that more space is available, is to house you in my study. You are to remain under close supervision until such a time as your penance is complete.”
“Good! I refuse to be rehomed again. Calenhad was a boor, and Hess was a blithering idiot.”
“Johanna, you terrorized them so thoroughly that short of my continued observation you would have been given to the Lich Lord’s judgment. No other senior watcher will willingly take on such a vigil.”
Johanna’s cutting remark died before it flew out of her quippy mouth. She sat stunned for a moment before her answer emerged as forlorn as it was frightened. “I much prefer to remain with you. Do not send me to them. They would have me destroyed. Or worse.”
Emmrich stood to his full height abruptly, and moved as if he would take the skull into his hands. Instead, he folded his arms behind his back. Then his expression smoothed into that emotionless mask he had worn at our last war table meeting in the lighthouse.
Emmrich's delivered his warning with such dire intensity that a shiver of fear ran down my spine.“Do not push that such an unenviable choice must be made. You were once my dearest friend. My loyalty to you remains as it once was—unless you, or your actions, threaten my house.”
“My family comes first in all things.” His posture straightened further, squaring his shoulders as he looked upon her with eyes glinting fade-touched green in the muted light of his office. “As Paterfamilias, my primary duty is to ensure the welfare of my loved ones. To provide for their needs. To guard them from harm. Including your nefarious scheming. If you wish to remain under my protection, your thirst for revenge and pointless grabs for power comes to an end. I will not bend on such matters, nor will I offer any second chances should you recklessly trod upon my good will.”
Johanna screeched shrilly in disbelief. “You are serious? You would cast me out to oblivion? After all–”
“If you are not on your utmost behavior I will have no other choice than to bring you before the guardianship of the Lich Lords.” Emmrich's eyes grew sorrowful, and then drifted to Manfred and I in the doorway. “Though it would pain me to do so.”
“Your paramour has forged you into something with a much sterner shell. That look in your eye is new. You nearly frightened me, you know. Nearly.” Johanna chewed upon his words for a moment before she deigned a haughty agreement of, “You have made yourself clear, though I am loath to admit defeat. I accept your terms.”
“Good.” I answered for my husband, not entirely pleased he had decided upon such a big commitment without speaking with me about it. “Because he means it. If you misbehave, you are gone. One strike, you are out.”
She did not acknowledge my reply further than a grunt of displeasure, before adding as an afterthought. “Though I will not play nursemaid to your young brood!”
Franny beamed, practically vibrating with an abundance of joy. “Auntie Johanna can stay? I found her in the box so I should get to keep her. Can she live in my room? Please, Papa, please?”
Emmrich did not so much as groan but rather grimaced while biting his lip. Then his eyes locked again with mine, a plea for aid evident in his hazel depths. He had the hardest time denying Franny anything she asked for.
“Franny, let us get out from underfoot.” I adeptly suggested. Then I lied through my teeth, “I find myself hungry. Perhaps if we ask Chef very nicely he will allow us to borrow his kitchen to make some sandwiches. I’m sure our helpers have worked up quite an appetite today.”
Franny turned on her heel with a grin. “Do you think Chef will have a treat for us?”
Her previous request forgotten, she abandoned a sputtering Johanna on Emmrich’s desk like a child would leave their toy for a shiny new one.
I waggled my eyebrows down at her with a conspiratorial hush. “I bet you an extra hour before bedtime if he doesn’t.”
“Manfred!” Franny grabbed her companion's free hand and pulled him bodily to the exit. “Chocolate!”
“Coco-late!” Manfred hissed just as excitedly, content to match Franny’s energy regardless that he could not imbibe such a delicacy.
As Emmrich closed the distance between us his worried expression softened a few shades shy of vulnerable. Then he sighed into my hair with his obvious relief as he embraced me, his hands rubbing small healing circles into my back.
“My dear, you continue to astound how you so expertly defuse the most unique situations.”
“Mmhmm…” I squeezed him back and nuzzled into the crook of his neck. “For such a generous compliment I will forgive your unilateral decision making about Johanna.”
Emmrich pulled back enough to fuss over me. “Are you truly recovered enough to entertain them? I can–”
I interrupted his well meaning offer with a quick kiss. Then I reached in his pocket for two ginger candies, which I was now determined to keep on my person at all times. Emmrich let out a surprised bark of a laugh when I booped his nose with a giggle I couldn’t stifle, before I retreated to follow our troublemakers.
In the main room I called out with blustering confidence, “I defeated two elven gods. I think I can handle retrieving light refreshments from the kitchen.”
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The warmth of the kitchen was a blessing after walking through the chilly open air hallways. Thog sweltering in the summers, the bread ovens served as a natural heat source Franny and I had often indulged in during frigid winter nights until we sought our beds in the girl’s ward.
The delicious aroma of vanilla and fresh cut strawberries wafting on the air outside the kitchens made my mouth water and my belly rumble in jealousy for the first time in ages. But, when I overheard the sounds of men arguing within I paused and cracked the door open enough to peek inside without being seen.
I saw the side profile of Chef, an elf in his mid forties, and my childhood friend Edwin crowded over by the sink. The overweight master of the kitchen was red-cheeked and his smile was exceptionally jolly, which told me he had been sampling his wine collection after the lunch rush. He held the face of the Qunari twice his size in place between two slices of bread.
Chef’s familiar Orleasian accent was mocking as he reprimanded, “You missed your chance. Ah, and what a good one it was. Love built upon a foundation of friendship is the best of all. But you let her slip through your fingers. What does that make you?”
Edwin glowered, clearly displeased to be the butt of the joke. “An idiot sandwich.”
“Oui. You understand.” Chef nodded, shaking his head in pity before he placed a fatherly hand upon his shoulder. “Wedded, bedded, and already with his bébé? Tu as perdu–you have lost. It is for your own good that you search for love in another. You are a very handsome boy. Love…L'amour est une femme qui pardonne–she is a forgiving woman. She will visit you again. You will find someone deserving of you.”
Edwin gazed at Chef’s retreating form like a wounded animal, before he silently abandoned his washing station. His absence was quickly replaced by the thralls who were assigned such cleaning duties.
Once Chef returned to his main preparation table I made my entrance. I called out a cheery hello, and was pleased to see Manfred and Franny occupied peeling potatoes for dinner and not causing trouble.
“Mama!” Franny called, her face brightening. She didn’t even notice as half the potato she was massacring fell to the ground.
“Ouah?” Chef’s eyes widened and his smile grew as he looked between Franny and I. “Ta Maman?”
“Yes, Chef! Mama and Papa!” Franny nodded enthusiastically at him. “I’m not a ward anymore–I’m adopted now!”
Chef looked upon me with a critical eye, and whatever he found had his smile drooping into a slight frown. “This monsieur Volkarin, he treats you well?”
“Yes, he—”
“Ah, ah, ah! Non, ma chérie.” Chef held up a hand in a gesture of silence. “I was asking petite Frannie.”
Franny giggled at my taken aback expression before she began to gush in the truthful way only children do. “Oh, Papa is so nice! He taught me how to ice skate. Didn’t even get mad at me when I was scared after he bought me a ticket–or when I made us fall and he twisted his knee. Not even when I decorated Freddie with my glitter paint? Papa laughed!”
“Spark-ley! Pretty!” Manfred added, clearly pleased at the memory as he peeled the potatoes with the precision of a surgeon conducting an autopsy.
“What about that one time I made him late to class when I fell and skinned my knee?” Franny grinned and showed off the gap of her front teeth. “He didn’t yell at me! Even though I got my fancy dress dirty after he told me not to play in it. But it was so pretty I had to…I could have gone to see Mrs. Margaret in the infirmary but Papa stayed with me until I stopped crying and healed it for me. Then he bought me a new dress to replace the–”
Franny covered her mouth and looked back at me with trepidation. “Oh…Papa said not to tell you about the dress.”
I only laughed and shook my head with a smile that was as wistful as it was indulgent in reply.
“Oh, oh! Ancestor’s day when we visited Papa’s parents–Mama helped me make Papa a present.” Suddenly bashful, Franny looked to the floor overcome with shyness.
When Chef turned his attention back to me expectantly, I sassily pointed to myself as if asking permission to speak. He rolled his eyes in faux irritation, his mouth quirking in a slight smirk at my cheek, and then waved his hand in an ‘on with it’ gesture.
I joined Franny at her seat by the vegetable station and cuddled her as I filled Chef in.
“We had a picnic by Emmrich’s parent’s graves. Franny and I never had anyone to visit before this year.” I looked down at her with pride as I continued. “Franny wanted to do something nice for Emmrich. So we both got a little crafty. We strung together some colored glass beads—”
“Green, black, and gold—for the Watchies!” Franny interrupted in an excited chirp. “Papa loves those colors.”
“Yes, he does. And he especially loved that we added some of your baby teeth to it.”
“Papa started crying! He loved it so much!” Franny threw her arms wide and I retrieved the potato peeler before she hurt herself.
My smile was a small, pleased thing as I met Chef’s assessing measure. “I think he was a touch overwhelmed from the surprise of it all.”
Franny smiled secretively and leaned forward with a voice too loud for a whisper, “Mama gave Papa an Ancestor's day present too.”
“She did? S'il vous plaît, j'attends en suspens–Tell me.”
“Yes, I did get your Papa an Ancestor’s day present.” I felt color flare in my cheeks at our own private family joke, and demurely looked at my feet. “It will be quite a while until it’s finished though.”
“I imagine monsieur Volkarin was a very, very happy man on Ancestor’s day indeed.” Chef’s mouth twisted into a wolfish grin so big his eyes creased. “Perhaps I can forgive him then.”
I straightened, eying him in confusion. “Forgive him? For what?”
Chef tutted, amused at his own joke. “Why, stealing ma chérie away. For not even asking for my blessing first.”
After a moment of tense silence Chef and I burst out in a fit of giggles so long that it left me winded, causing Manfred to give me his seat. Chef, long recovered before me, continued putting together an assortment of sandwiches and sliced fruits. While he did so, I instructed Franny and Manfred on the proper way to peel a potato without losing half of it.
The focus silence was only broken by Franny who called out softly, “Chef? Can you make mine with–”
“Oui, Frannie, with the raspberry jam. I could never forget my ma chouquette.”
I added as I grabbed another potato from the bowl, “Emmrich does not like peanut butter. Could we please include some sliced cheese along with the fruit?”
“A charcuterie for two? How romantic Evlyne.” Chef teased, before he grumbled. “No meat…no peanut butter. What does the man subsist off of? Air? Mes dieux. Ces Gardiens des Morts–they do not know what things they deny themselves. Ah, what a feast I could prepare if they would partake.”
“Chef, have you always been a chef?” Franny asked, her innocent childlike curiosity evident in her voice.
She did not notice the way I tensed, and I locked eyes with Chef as we both considered how to answer her.
“Non, not always.” Chef answered, turning over his words carefully. “When I lived in Orlais, I had many jobs. But the one I had the longest was in the kitchens.”
“If you are from Orlais, how did you end up in Nevarra?”
“My family and I…we sought a better life.”
“Oh. Okay.” Franny answered, still concentrating on separating the potato from its skin with the speed of a snail. “Where is your family now? Maybe they live close to us now.”
Chef put the knife he was using to chop vegetables down and worried his lower lip. “Only I made it to Nevarra. Ma femme and our bébé…at that time there was a very bad sickness that many people fled from. People like ta Maman–Evlyne…they stopped it.”
“Oh no…” Franny frantically looked between Chef and I’s mutual gaze of sorrowful understanding. Then she ran over to hug him around his rotund middle. “I’m sorry. You must miss them a whole lot.”
“I do miss them.” Chef ruffled Franny’s hair, and then gave her a piece of carrot. “But I can only miss them so much when my heart is so full of love for so many others. After all, they would not want me to be sad forever. We were very happy together in the time we had.”
“What were their names?” I asked, my voice fraying a little at the end.
Chef beamed at me, his own eyes a little misty. “Camillé, and…we liked the name Jeanne, for a girl.”
------------
When evening time rolled around it found Emmrich and I laid up in bed, calling it an early night.
I lay on my back, with Emmrich’s head pillowed on my breasts as we unpacked the important moments of our days.
Emmrich had taken to rubbing my non-existent bump, and I couldn’t find it in myself to discourage his enthusiasm.
I confessed, a touch shy of broaching the subject. “Someone said something today that made me feel a smidge guilty.”
Emmrich raised his head enough to look upon my face. “Whatever for, my love? You quite heroically championed through a vicious bout of morning sickness and kept the children entertained. You should feel no guilt in anything today.”
“You inhabited that space for over a decade–”
“Over two decades to be accurate.” Emmrich corrected helpfully.
“Over two decades.” I corrected mirthfully, brushing a stray hair out of his face. “I feel that I have completely upended your life rather quickly. And for that I feel that I must apolog–”
“No, absolutely not. I will not hear it.” Emmrich cut me off, shuffling on our bed until he also rested on the pillows. Then he informed me in a voice that brokered no argument. “I had no intention of remaining in those rooms as long as I did. My intention was always to marry and my hopes were to one day have a family–which I have finally acquired for myself.”
“This. All of this. It is exactly what I hoped for, my darling Evie.” Emmrich hazel gaze was at the same time as melancholy as it was hopeful. “So do not feel even an ounce of guilt for bestowing upon this very grateful man exactly what he dreamed of. I think I will become quite cross with you if you do not heed my words.”
My lips blubbered for a moment at his honest, unfettered confession. I blinked at the ceiling and, after a moment, I replied with a complaint of, “I can’t believe you carried me over the threshold of our bedroom. I doubt Ernst would approve of such behavior.”
Emmrich sighed at my squelching of the romantic moment, but followed my humour anyway. “I might be a touch sore for it, but I cannot find it in myself to regret it. Is that not something a husband does for his new bride? Carries her over the threshold of their house?”
“Quite right, Paterfamilias.” I teased, scrunching my nose at him. “Does such a husbandly duty include fucking his wife in said bed, or is that something I need to upgrade my package for?”
“Quite right, indeed.” Emmrich grinned at me like a predator before he pinned me to the bed with both hands above my head.
“Emmrich! You are still healing!” I giggled girlishly, and my face flushing hotly from that look in his eye.
Emmrich swallowed my protests with persuasive kisses that had my heart racing. When I struggled against his hold he released me only to find himself pinned a moment later.
“Fine, but I’m going to be on top this time.”
“What a hardship. Truly, how terrible a sentence, my dear.”
Then we broke out in goofy giggles, wrestling each other until we got too distracted kissing again. We ended up spooning each other, my leg in the crook of Emmrich’s arm and his lips and teeth at the back of my neck. We both moaned in time with his lazy thrusts as he fucked me from behind. Like the gentleman he was, Emmrich allowed me to come on his cock before he climaxed. Afterwards, like the absolutely exhausted adults we were, we fell asleep immediately.