Chapter Text
“This is just a bit antiquated but… I don’t know how traditional you two were.”
Rook took a beat, the silence of the Memorial Gardens making it feel longer than it actually was. Eleannora and Rupert Volkarin’s graves were clean and tidy as always, now adorned with some fresh flowers she had gathered. Their little corner of the Gardens was well-tended, even though there was a flowering bush that had a Manfred-shaped hole in it.
He was by her side, watching blankly as a wisp floated past, bouncing over her head in curiosity at their presence. She had let him pick some flowers as well, but sometime when she wasn’t looking, he had shoved his way into the poor plant just to the left of Rupert’s grave.
Rook took a breath, unsure why she was nervous to speak to a couple of gravestones. “I’m going to ask Emmrich to marry me.”
Manfred stopped looking at the wisp to look at her.
“I’m gonna ask for your blessing too, wait your turn,” Rook muttered to him with a glance. “This is my gift to you,” she presented her offering.
She placed the lantern between the two headstones, and the green flame of the ever burning candle flickered a little once placed. It was a simple construct, square in shape, made of stone except the gold that aligned the top edges of it.
“Traditionally, I’d give you a family heirloom but…” she shrugged, “I don’t have any so… this is the first candle I ever enchanted. It’s been with me since my apprenticeship. And this.” She slipped one of her rings off and tucked it into the little stone box. “I don’t know if that belonged to my mother, but she left it with me.” Straightening up again, Rook fidgeted slightly. “He’s wonderful, and I swear I’ll take care of him while you wait for him to join you.”
Another silence, save for Manfred, who decided to say, “Rook!”
“I didn’t forget you,” she turned to him. “I had to get creative, I didn’t know how to make sure you don’t lose this.”
Gently she grabbed his bone arm, lifting his coat up his ulna and radius bone towards his humerus. She weaved a plain green ribbon through the two bones that formed his lower arm until it crisscrossed to a bow with her last ring tied at the center. The vacancy on her fingers of the two rings she had been left with as an infant felt odd, but she would get used to it.
“So, what do you think?” Rook asked. “Can I marry your dad?”
“Emmrich.”
“Yeah,” she laughed a little. “Can I stay with you two? Forever?”
Manfred had no eyebrows or eyes to project confusion, instead he dropped his jaw a little and cocked his head. “Be good.”
“I’ll take it.” She lifted to her toes, pulling the skeleton in to kiss him atop his smooth skull. “Come on, we will be late for dinner.”
Luckily, she was dressed for dinner, nothing too extravagant but nicer than her Mourn Watch robes. Outings away from the Necropolis that had become a weekly routine. As much as they loved home, they had gotten to see the world, and they still wanted to enjoy what it had to offer. Having exclusive access to an Eluvian that could go nearly anywhere in the world made that much easier.
The walk towards the classrooms was busy as students filed out for their weekend from their last classes of the day. Rook had gone from being just another face in the crowd around the Necropolis to being someone that people took double takes at. She saw one student stare wide-eyed at her and Manfred as they made their way before turning to their friends to whisper.
She’d only been permanently back at the Necropolis for six months, and her new position as Senior Necromancer was still odd. She kept expecting Myrna to show up to a meeting and tell her it was a mistake, to get back to sweeping graves and collecting withered flowers left by mourners. Being a Hero of the Veilguard had thrust her very abruptly to the top, and Rook had no idea what to do with the attention it garnered.
Emmrich’s classroom was empty, save for one student in conversation with him. The Student in question was becoming quite a favorite, as much as Emmrich tried to deny it, as this was not the first time she’d found him held up for their weekly dates while discussing lessons and assignments with him. Emmrich’s coat was not the leather armor she had seen him in every day during their fight against the gods; instead a less sturdy long coat of a deep emerald, brown vest and trousers. He stood with his hand on his hip, the other held in front of his chest as he smiled and showed an adorable amount of enthusiasm to whatever they were discussing.
“Emmrich!”
Manfred hobbled into the room, drawing attention as Rook lingered in the doorway.
“He can speak!” The student gaped.
“Yes! Manfred is quite the conversationalist, his vocabulary has expanded remarkably, hasn’t it, my dear?” Emmrich’s eyes landed on her in the doorway.
“Oh, yeah,” Rook stepped in. “He knows how to curse in three languages now.”
“Which languages?”
“Manfred, give us a presentation. What do we say when we spill our coffee?”
“Mierda! Venhedis! Vashedan!”
“That’s quite enough, Manfred, thank you,” Emmrich pinched the bridge of his nose while his student laughed. “I fear we must continue this conversation another time, Fabian. Excellent work today.”
“Thanks, Professor, enjoy your dinner! See you, Rook.”
“Bye.” She chuckled with a wave.
“Manfred knows exactly twenty-seven words, and you choose the foulest of them to display,” Emmrich shook his head. “Honestly, Rook, you’re incorrigible.”
“Oh, come on, the students love it,” she slinked up to him, gripping the lapel of his jacket to lift herself to kiss him. Despite the furrow of his brow, he kissed her anyway, his face softening after she pulled away. “All kids go through a potty mouth phase.”
“I don’t believe you’ve ever left yours,” Emmrich remarked as he gathered his things.
“Oh no, I’ve made you cross.”
The smile on his lips said otherwise, but he committed to pretending until they were down into the lower belfry. Rook almost forgot to be nervous, her hands almost steady and her heartbeat a slow but heavy thud.
“Are you sure we aren’t putting Lucanis and Neve out? Manfred can always join us.”
“Lucanis appreciates Manfred’s presence, he keeps Spite busy while they enjoy some time alone,” Rook assured him.
“I must admit, I had wondered how their romance would sustain itself after we all stopped using the Lighthouse as a primary abode.” Emmrich pulled her hand from her pocket, tucking it through his arm as they made their way. “They’re both so fond of their homes .”
“The Eluvian helps with that,” Rook said quickly, panic rising as her hand no longer had a sturdy grip on the box in her pocket. “Between you and I, Lucanis has mentioned spending more time in Minrathous.”
“Oh?” Emmrich said eagerly, a smile ticking upward as it did whenever she had a juicy bit of gossip to share. “And his grandmother finds that acceptable?”
“Caterina can’t let go of the Crows,” Rook told him. “Lucanis can’t get anything done without her peering over his shoulder. Says he wants to give her another year. Take a break from contracts and enjoy freedom.”
“Lucanis said this?” Emmrich gaped. “What a turn of events.”
“He stabbed a god in the chest after being imprisoned for a year, I think he deserves a vacation.”
“Yes, but Lucanis Dellamorte shirking his work is an entirely absurd concept.”
They ceased their gossiping as they stepped through the mirror to the eluvian room, Manfred trailing at their side as they passed through. It had not changed much; their respective rooms all still held the Fade’s projections of their comforts. The Veilguard was not disbanded so much as they were simply on call. More than once, they’d had to gather the team to answer some missive asking for help.
At the very least, Rook knew Neve and Lucanis called it a happy medium between Treviso and Minrathous. They were at the Lighthouse more often than any of the others. The pair of them were sitting in the courtyard when Emmrich and Rook left the Lighthouse.
“Well, aren't you two looking nice.” Neve’s smile was all too knowing for Rook’s comfort as she said, “Looking forward to date night?”
“A much needed reprieve,” Emmrich beamed. “Thank you again for keeping an eye on Manfred.”
“He’ll be keeping an eye on us, won’t you, Fred?”
“Neve!”
“Good to see you too.” Neve turned to Rook, “I have some papers for Bel, come on.”
The two left just as Spite began demanding seeing more of Manfred’s new magic, much to both Emmrich and Lucanis’ express displeasure. There was a loud boom just as Rook slipped past the Study doors. Neve’s notes had all been pulled down, replaced now by only a few threaded together papers that tracked some left over problems and evidence of Solas’ work in the Fade with Inquisitor Lavellan. Just enough that they wouldn’t be blindsided if trouble arose again.
“Did you get it?” Neve’s eyes were alight with excitement, her smile small but mischievous.
“I did,” Rook breathed. “Thought I might not have time today, but I managed to get to the city before his first class.”
“Let me see it!”
Rook pulled out the small rectangular box tucked in her pocket and handed it to Neve. She opened it and smirked. There was a ring, an offering of Grave Gold, a thick band engraved with flowers around a looping vine. Dowry was usually presented after a wedding, but Rook had been resolute to gift him something. Alongside it was a king’s gulder, King Markus’ face hammered out along with all the other reliefs and inscriptions save for the year, dated for the previous one when they met.
It was shiny gold, and in the place of its usual adornment was an engraving of the lover’s statue, encircled by text that read ‘hand in hand, in eternity.’ The back of it had their first initials entwined in calligraphy. The token of her affection had come out perfectly, despite all her worrying about it being too this or too that.
Rook had only been back in the employ of the Mourn Watch for six months, and a good chunk of her salary from that time had gone directly to the gold in Neve’s hands. It was probably not the best use of her first real income in over a year (saving the world did not pay well, surprisingly enough,) but she had been resolute. Even now, she felt the weight of the Grave Gold Emmrich had gifted her. The bands on her wrists, the choker around her throat, and the chain that dangled beneath her clothes.
He had made his intentions very clear, and she thought it only right she did the same.
“That Mourn Watch money must be good.” Neve rose an eyebrow. “That’s a thick band of gold.”
“Too much?”
Neve leveled her with a look. “He wears a small fortune out to get groceries, Rook, it’s not ‘too much.’” Her finger traced the edge of the coin. “Bel’s got you all set up in Arlathan, I told her to stay as far away as possible so she doesn’t spoil the surprise. She was vibrating the entire time.”
“I really owe you guys,” Rook grinned as she took the box when Neve snapped it shut and handed it to her.
“Call it even for helping me catch Aelia. Maybe name your first born after me.”
“Let’s get through this part first before we decide if we need baby names.”
She was almost certain he’d say yes. The odds were very much in her favor for once. He’d given her Grave Gold. He’d asked her to move in with him. He’d torn open the Fade using somewhat questionable means to retrieve her from the Regret Prison.
Emmrich hadn’t been subtle in his devotion. He was probably going to say yes.
But she was still shaking. Maybe Arlathan was a bad choice. After the Veil had been restored to its strength by Solas, and the gods had been killed, Arlathan was more stable. It was still a pocket of strange magic and the Veil was thinner there than almost anywhere else, but it was safer than ever before. Its natural cycles of seasons had begun again, the new Spring giving way to more blooming flowers than she had ever seen in her entire life.
Emmrich was ecstatic about it. Arlathan wasn’t a bad choice.
Bellara had set everything up and made sure to ward the clearing from any unwanted visitors, whether they were demonic or mortal. Rook had run for pastries in Orlais, dinner from Nevarra, and wine from Treviso. It was a perfect picnic, one of few plans of hers that had ever gone right.
What if the thing that went wrong was the damn proposal?
Emmrich was talking about flowers: that one had remarkable healing properties, this one had a flavor that paired nicely with cardamom in a tea, and he picked a few that were known to be aphrodisiacs in some circles. Thank the Maker for his verbosity because Rook couldn’t make words, her tongue felt too big for her mouth, the box in her pocket may as well have been a lead weight and she was still shaking like a fucking leaf.
Emmrich wasn’t talking anymore. She looked up at him, seeing him smile, just a little sheepish. “My apologies, I’ve been prattling on,” he said, “tell me, what did you and Manfred get up to today?”
“We went to the city,” she said. “To get the food.”
“A wonderful selection,” he complimented.
“Good.”
“Are you alright, dearest?”
“I went to visit your parents today.” Rook blurted out. “I brought them flowers.”
His eyebrows lifted towards each other, a fond smile on his lips. “That’s very dear of you.”
“You should talk more,” Rook said quickly. “How is Fabian’s theory coming along.”
“It’s coming along brilliantly,” Emmrich said as he leaned in, “but what is the matter, Rook?”
“I love hearing you talk. Especially when you talk to yourself, I think it’s adorable. And you’re probably the smartest person I know, and I don’t know how I tricked you into loving me back, but I’m glad I did.”
“Darling,” he was laughing at her a little bit. “It was no trick, you captured my heart entirely by your merit. Your place in mine was inevitable, like wildflowers after rain.”
“Stop saying pretty things, I’m trying to be the one who says pretty things,” she said back.
“Apologies.” He was still stifling a chuckle.
“I love you.” She said it, abruptly, and without any kind of follow-up in her head. “I can’t really ask your parents — not that I think you need permission— but I did ask Manfred, and I don’t think he understood, but that’s fine.”
He said her name.
Her shaking hands missed her pocket twice before she got ahold of the box and opened it to present to him. “I love you. You’re it for me. We’ve done so much already, but there's so much more out there. I want to do it all with you. Emmrich, will you marry me?”
Emmrich went stone still, in fact she was certain the gasp he took in was the only breath he gave for a devastatingly long moment. The box shook slightly in her hands despite how tightly she was gripping it to hide her nerves, and now she felt stupid just holding it out.
He said her name again. “Oh, you —“ he started. “But I was going to — ” Emmrich began to laugh. Not just stifled chuckles like before when he was teasing her, but full on laughs that were punctuated by shuddered breaths as tears started slipping down his cheeks.
That wasn’t a yes.
“Emmrich?”
He straightened himself out, still crying, dug into his waistcoat pocket, and presented her a box. A smaller one, but one of similar fashion to what she held in her hands. When she didn’t reach for it herself, he opened it to reveal his own token. The king's gulder, hammered to flatness and repressed with the relief of shroud’s kiss and honeysuckle tied together with a flowing bow. A day, month, and year from their time fighting Gods, and grave script that translated to a commitment to eternity.
Despite herself, she felt her eyes well up.
“There was meant to be a dinner,” he sniffled, “and I had planned to raise King Van Markham’s favored string quartet,” he chuckled. “It’s been months, and I’ve been sure to have it on my person. A precaution, in case an unexpected moment struck —”
“King Van Markham — Emmrich, a king’s undead quartet?” Rook blurted out. “Maker alive, and I made you a picnic. We are sitting on the ground right now.”
“It’s perfect,” he assured her.
“If you’ve had it this long…” she shook her head, a hot tear slipping down her face, “why didn’t you…”
“I was fearful of overwhelming you,” he admitted gently. “We’ve just gotten settled. You are still young, Rook. I hardly wanted to scare you off.”
“So it’s not because of second thoughts?”
“Rook, I’ve hardly been more certain of anything else,” he shook his head. “Oh, darling, you’re shaking.”
“You still haven’t said yes!” She accused.
He took the box from her hands, setting his own aside, tugging her into his lap to straddle his hips. “Nothing in the world would make me happier.”
“Say yes,” she warbled through tears.
“Yes, Rook, I will marry you.”
She sighed, tension leaving her and kissed him. Hands still shaking, she reached blindly for the box behind her but couldn’t find it. Her heart was wild in her chest, and she felt like she might actually still throw up the lovely dinner she’d arranged. When she pulled her lips back to turn her head and look for the box, Emmrich continued to kiss her, wet kisses to her cheek, her jaw, the corner of her lips. He was still laughing and crying, as he hiccuped through the giggles.
“Give me your hand,” she plucked the ring out of the box.
He did with a dreamy look in his still watery eyes, wrist lax as he presented it to her.
“I hope it fits right, I had Manfred tie a string around your finger while you were sleeping to get the size.”
“That’s what that was,” he said with a grin that wobbled with a fresh wave of tears. “I thought he was trying to give me grave gold again.”
The ring slipped over his finger, thankfully sized correctly. She held his hand in hers, admiring the new ring amongst the collection he already had. Emmrich looked too, tracing a tickling pattern against her skin before he frowned with a sniffle.
“My love, where are your rings?”
She flexed her hand, seeing the two missing. It brought back the naked sensation of them being gone when she had worn them as long as they had been able to fit safely. Now she only had one, part of the set he had gifted her.
“I left one with your parents, and the other I gave to Manfred. Heirloom gifts, for your family.”
Emmrich’s face crumpled under a fresh wave of big wet tears coming from increasingly red eyes, voice strained when he quietly said, “That was truly not necessary, darling.”
Rook shrugged. “Neither is a royal quartet.” She looked at the token of his affection, fingernail gently dragging over the date. “What’s this date?”
She recognized the year, it matched the one she had included in her own token. The specific day and month, however, were a bit of a conundrum. It was during their time at the Lighthouse, just towards the tail end of it, when things truly started to get hectic. The time was such a whirlwind of battles, both personal and physical, that she had trouble tracing what had happened that day.
“That’s the date we spent in the Hossburg Wetlands,” he told her, “when we dealt with that blight eruption.”
Rook frowned, not entirely sure she understood the significance of it. It was no more terrifying than Weisshaupt as far as battling blight and darkspawn went. In honesty, it had been more disgusting than frightening. She had been worried more about Davrin, who felt the rage of the blight more keenly than she or Emmrich ever could.
The squelching pulse of blight boils was not a sound she would soon forget, nor the smell that had permeated the air when they destroyed it with Antoine’s explosives was sickening. They had been so far from the thing, and it still managed to rain filth down on them; cleaning it off her skin and out of her hair had taken hours.
“How…romantic?”
Emmrich wiped his cheek free of tears with a laugh that shook him. “We also found the grove of flowers,” he clarified. “The world was so bleak, and yet the flowers still grew. Their perseverance, that hope they inspired — I couldn’t help but equate them with you, my love. I knew then, if you would have me, that I’d like to have asked you.”
Rook swallowed past a lump in her throat. “Can you stop stealing my moment?”
“I very much believe you stole mine.” He said. “A quartet, Rook, it was going to be splendid.”
“I can take it back if you want,” she snorted.
“Don’t you dare.”
Rook couldn’t help but be nervous.
The last chantry she had taken her team to had been full of Venatori and a literal pool of blood. None of them were very religious, finding out the basis of the largest established church was built on a misunderstanding would do that. Not to mention the skepticism that lingered after fighting literal Gods of another major religion of the world.
Her and Emmrich kept the holidays in their first year off God Killing duties. It was mostly to partake in leftover traditions from his parents and little things they both remembered fondly that the Mourn Watch sponsored for foundlings.
But none of their gathered witnesses would ever be caught reciting the chant of light. Myrna was there with Vorgoth (their presence was effective at taking the attention off of the rest of the team), as were a couple long time friends of Emmrich’s, and a few of her closest friends from life before the end of the world. The chantry was crowded, the largest in Nevarra City with its arching and ominous architecture vaulting above them. At the least, the setting was beautiful with paintings depicting scenes of Andraste’s triumphs and death, stained glass creating colorful patches of light, and the smell of incense was pleasant enough.
Reading banners was a tedious thing, boiled down to one efficient day during the month where engaged parties from all over the city stood around waiting for their names to be called. The first step of many in Nevarran wedding traditions.
Taash was bored, Rook could tell by the way their eyes were glazing over. Bellara was fidgeting with increasing consistency. Davrin was definitely sleeping, his head bowed in what could have been pious respect, but she knew better. Neve and Lucanis were people-watching, and at least someone had found a way to entertain themselves. Manfred went back and forth between staring at the ceiling and turning to Lucanis, most likely interested in something Spite was saying or doing. The others, all Watchers, had a practiced air of attentiveness despite the fact she could nearly see how their minds were wandering.
Emmrich was excited, and that was what mattered. His hand, laced with hers rested in her lap, a little smile on his lips. Rook hadn’t given too much thought to marriage, she figured she would cross that bridge when she found someone she wanted to go down that path with. The occasional fancy had crossed her mind when she had found herself in love before, imagining certain ceremonies and what she would wear. But in general, she hadn’t considered these steps to be part of the charm.
Emmrich had let the idea of a wedding and family go a while back, despite it being one of his long-standing dreams for his life. He was getting something he never thought he would. So despite how hungry she was getting, or how concerned she was that someone on the team was going to make a spectacle of themselves, she smiled with him.
Rook had attended only one banner reading before for a friend, and now her own.
Different couples (and even one throuple) stood as their names were called. The chantry sister leading the ceremony read their papers, acknowledged their families, and declared their marriage to be sanctioned by the Maker so long as no egregious matter of legality stood in the way of the nuptials. The engaged party would call out an agreement to the proceedings, their gathered guests would cheer their support, and then they filed out.
The sister called out Emmrich’s name and hers, at which point they stood hand in hand. More than a few faces in the crowd turned. Emmrich was already well-renowned in many circles, both political and academic before the ordeal with Elgar’nan and Ghilan’ain. Now both of their names were associated with phrases like ‘heroes of the final blight’ and ‘Guardians of the Veil.’ This was meant to be a simple if not tedious task, a formality that only really mattered to the party whose name was being read while everyone else present was too occupied with their own business. There were hundreds of names, and no one really played much attention to anything else until their names were called.
Suddenly Rook realized that she may be reading about this in a gossip article in the coming weeks. She could see a headline already. “Nevarra’s own Mourn Watch heroes to tie the knot.” Followed by descriptions of first-hand accounts of what everyone in the Veilguard was wearing and doing, who had been invited to join the proceedings, and who was missing. She sorely hoped the group of people behind her behaved themselves, for Emmrich’s sake. This mattered so much to him, and now it felt like the world was watching.
“Here we go.” Rook breathed, glancing back at the team to see that all of them had the presence of mind to finally be interested in what was happening.
Emmrich’s parents were acknowledged, a formal nicety wishing them rest in the Maker’s embrace followed by Rook being named a ‘Ward of the Watch.’ A nice way to say she was abandoned with no hint of her parentage.
“The Maker smiles upon this union, so long as it is entered into willingly and with no outstanding obstacles which would render it null. Speak your consent, in front of the Maker, the Chantry, and all the faithful to our Lady Redeemer.”
“With the Maker as witness, I, Emmrich Volkarin, heartily consent to this union.” He looked at her when he said it, and although his voice didn’t crack, he sucked in a shuddering breath after he spoke.
Rook repeated him, placing her full name in place of his, looking at him the entire time while he dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief and had to compose himself as she agreed publicly to marry him.
“The nuptials shall take place, blessed by the Maker.”
There was loud cheering behind them and too much clapping from the rest of the gathered strangers. Emmrich lifted her hand to his lips, and she thought she might cry as well. The Chantry sister continued on with her list of names, but for a few moments suspended in time, they could have been all alone.
Rook had found the idea of all the steps and traditions tedious, but the grin on his face, and the dizzying elation she felt made the appeal of it very clear.
A dinner was usually hosted afterwards by one of the couple’s parents, and having no set for either of them, Lucanis had offered to do the honor at the Lighthouse. A very kind gesture, one Emmrich couldn’t quite find words to thank him for. The dining room was more full than usual, Bellara running around to help Lucanis while everyone mingled.
The conversation of a few colleagues had kept him occupied, touring the Lighthouse very quickly turned into discussions of the Fade, the astrolabe’s construction and enchantment, historical significance of the location, and ancient elven practices. Bellara had been eagerly pulled into the conversation between her help with dinner. As she expanded upon Eluvian’s folding liminal space through special alchemical construction and magical enchantments, Emmrich glanced at Rook across the room.
She was trying to foster a connection with her friends and the team, with Neve helping her along. They had all rubbed elbows before at a gala celebrating their victory, but this was far more casual and intimate. He could hardly hold back the sigh he gave, unable to stop dreamily looking over at who would be his companion for the rest of his natural life.
“Well done, Volkarin,” he heard from next to him.
Moritz Lechner was a long-time colleague before marrying a much closer friend of his, Livia, who was one of the most knowledgeable historians he’d known. She was currently enraptured by Bellara’s winding explanations of Arlathan ruins. The man held out his hand, and Emmrich shook it.
“Thank you, Moritz, I can hardly believe my luck.”
“See what leaving the Necropolis every once in a while gets you?” He joked. “One year away, and you return a Hero and a husband.”
“To think she was right there in the Necropolis the entire time,” he laughed, “and yet venturing so far from home would bring us together.”
“Indeed,” Moritz drank from his glass, Tevinter brandy, provided by Neve. “It is all… sudden, but were it time-sensitive, I suppose you would have forgone the pomp and circumstance to elope already.”
Emmrich’s eyes glanced down to Rook’s stomach and the glass of wine in her hand. The conversation was turning in an ominous direction. “It’s been nearly a year since we finished our fight,” Emmrich said. “now that things have settled, we both thought it was time to… make the next steps.”
“So there is no little Volkarin on the way?”
“Not presently.”
“I’d have thought you’d wait a little longer, then,” Moritz said. “You can never be too cautious. You have taken precautions, haven’t you? Made sure the particulars are agreed upon beforehand?”
The jump from assuming an accidental pregnancy spurred on this wedding to insinuating Emmrich needed legal protection from Rook had, in a word, incensed. Hurt was somewhere behind the sudden rage; were it only his character being impugned he may have lingered on it. Touched and picked at the soft spot that held all his insecurity about his age, or his tendency to lack moderation in the area of love or whatever else he had been lacking that had dashed every previous relationship prior.
Even his morals, how mortifying to be thought of as a cradle robbing lech? Things he had considered, been careful of, emotionally beaten himself over and over again until he finally came to terms with the inevitability that was Rook’s place in his heart. However, the implication that Rook was capable of deceiving him or playing some malicious game with his feelings for her gain dashed most everything else.
“I don’t follow,” Emmrich said dryly.
It was a final attempt to allow civility to win out. An opportunity for the man to bow out with some lie and spin on the implications.
“A pre-nuptial agreement won’t hurt, is all I mean, my friend.”
A fight, then.
“Ah, I see.”
Emmrich clasped his hands behind his back, finger tracing the newest ring in his collection of gold. He could feel the pattern of the flowers in the gold, the smooth new metal, perfectly sized and designed. Thoughtfully chosen for him, and the way her hands had shaken when she presented it to him. He felt the presence of the spirits that endlessly filtered through the lighthouse, Anger and Disgust lingering nearby unseen.
“She is young, Emmrich,” Moritz leaned in closer. “What, thirty?”
“Thirty-three. Quite young for her list of accomplishments, I must agree. Can you imagine the weight of the world on your shoulders? The disparity in which fate doles out adversity is a wonder.”
“Certainly,” Moritz agreed, sipping his drink again with raised eyebrows. “But ambition can get the best of us. If I recall, before falling into this role, she did not have much work to speak for her amongst the Watchers, yes?”
“Indeed,” Emmrich grit his teeth. “Fortunate, then, that the Mourn Watch has seen her potential and offered her a rise in ranks nearly unheard of. Senior Necromancer at thirty-three? I believe Myrna still holds the title of our youngest to ascend, but she is now in good company. Rook’s work does speak for itself, I believe.” He laughed, it was too loud, lacked any true mirth and he knew he ought to have reined it in. “I was about twenty feet from her when she used her own necromantic technique to weaken Elgar’nan, the very same God that moved the sun. Right before she buried a dagger into his heart.”
Moritz, it seemed, was aware he had offended. “Of course. A tale they will tell for ages.” He conceded the point, only to add, “forgive me, Emmrich. You’re a man of great renown, completely self-made, a true credit to the order. Is it so outlandish to wonder if a girl who wasn’t even left with a last name may want to make something of herself?”
Emmrich stared him in the eye, ready to set the trap, feeling the swirling energy of another spirit curiously watching the interaction. “You are right.”
Moritz breathed a sigh and clapped him on the shoulder, “I knew you’d be reasonable.”
“I am, yes,” he said, not moving or returning any friendly gesture. He looked back at her, where she had glanced at him before going to help Lucanis as Bellara had gotten too distracted. His heart thumped heavily in his chest when her laugh carried over all the sounds of conversation as Lucanis shooed her away from the kitchen. “I believe an arrangement should be made.”
“It’s just a precaution,” Moritz nodded. “She will understand.”
Emmrich gave a huff, “Oh, she’ll be furious.” He narrowed his eyes, “but one should wonder at how to ensure her future is comfortable, Rook having been away from the Order for so long with little income.” He clapped his hands in front of him, “yes, you are right. It will have to do. I must ensure she is a beneficiary to a comfortable amount if our marriage fails.”
“That’s not —“
“It would be only right, would it not? The privilege of being able to ensure one’s spouse is completely taken care of is not to be taken lightly. Many are not so fortunate.”
“Well, yes, but —“
“An enlightening conversation, Moritz, I will have the papers written up right away. If you will excuse me.”
Emmrich quickly walked over to grab another glass of wine. His eyes found Rook again as she made conversation, her wrists flicking to feel her bracelets click together, the only tell that she was at all nervous. His friends put her slightly on edge, and he saw now why that may have been. Her fingers were still bare of all rings save one he had given her. The final gifts from her birth parents were divvied between his own and Manfred. The spirit had deigned to show off his new trinket more than once throughout the night, a loving croaking of ‘Rook gift gold’ anytime he did.
For anyone to believe she had ulterior motives made him grind his teeth.
“Please tell Spite we cannot kill your friend.” Lucanis said as he stirred.
“And what reason would he have to do that?”
‘ Smells like grave dirt. Hot blood. ’ Spite seethed nearby.
Emmrich frowned at Lucanis, as he could not see where Spite stood next to him.
“He smells everyone. He’s taken to eavesdropping when emotions get high.”
“Ah.”
“He doesn’t understand what your friend meant,” Lucanis assured him. “But I do. A murder at a wedding celebration is an Antivan tradition rather than a Nevarran one, I’d guess.”
“No murders today, please, Spite.” Emmrich nodded. “It was nothing but a petty misunderstanding.”
Lucanis glanced at him sidelong with a small smile. “After the party, though, something could be arranged.”
Emmrich pursed his lips. “Tempting as it may be, I must decline.”
“I wouldn’t mention it to Rook,” Lucanis said. “And don’t let it ruin your night,” he said, “not everyone will understand you two. But those of us who do are not at all surprised to be here.”
“Thank you, Lucanis.”
“No hay de qué. Now get out of my kitchen.”
Rook hadn’t meant to overhear.
She was coming back up from the eluvian room after seeing her friends off when she heard Livia and Moritz Lechner’s voices. She thought nothing of it, ready to politely offer them her gratitude for their presence on a day so special to Emmrich while he fetched something from his room to send off with Livia.
“You may have to smooth things over with Emmrich,” Moritz said, voice slightly slurred.
“Why?” Livia’s tone was already accusatory.
“She’s not pregnant.”
“Oh, by Andraste's grace, please tell me you didn’t ask him that!” Livia hissed.
Rook stopped, just out of view on the stairway.
“We both thought this was too fast a move —“
“I said I would be surprised ,” Livia insisted, “that if she was, it would be so soon after they returned to the Necropolis.” There was a sharp sigh. “Was he very angry?”
“He was after I mentioned a pre-nup.”
“Moritz!”
A thousand sensations overtook Rook as she pressed her back against the stone wall. It should not have been surprising, for every horrible assumption against Emmrich there would be just as many about her. It was not something she had been ignorant of; even Harding had thought she and Emmrich were doing a bit too much too quickly. Of course, her friend had never assumed that either of them had ulterior motives against the other.
On the outside, she could understand the thought. She was a twenty-year younger, previously disgraced underachiever. He was chosen by their highest ranks to take a place amongst them for all of eternity. Even if he had eventually declined it, he was the picture of the best of the Mourn Watch.
“At his age, it’s just a precaution. Everytime we see her she has new gold,” Moritz defended himself. “She’s got the whole world in front of her after all of this, what would it matter if he wants to be sure —“
“Stop talking.” Livia snapped.
Rook turned tail and ran for the Eluvian room, taking a few breaths to steady herself. She waited out there until Emmrich escorted the pair out, and she smiled and offered her thanks. Noticing now that Emmrich mostly spoke to Livia, who was being way too friendly to her by a few measures. Moritz was only addressed with the barest politeness from Emmrich, and she had to try even harder than him to not give away all the things she was feeling.
She had been prepared for this sort of thing. The difference in age between them was not so bad that it verged into the inappropriate. She was a grown woman, she had saved the world, she had lived an entire life before him. She wasn’t a moon-eyed schoolgirl. But, judgements would happen. She knew she had been less than impressive in her years coming up in the Watch. She did well, but she was never the type of student who garnered excessive accolades.
On the outside, she could understand the assumption.
But then again, she had also saved the fucking world. What else did she have to do to not be considered a social climber?
“Time for the after party?” Rook smiled at Emmrich.
After getting a tad too tipsy at dinner and the festivities, Rook was much too tired to make their way back to the Necropolis. Instead, she and Emmrich climbed the stairs to the loft above the laboratory, still ready and waiting for them to use. The perpetual sunlight was odd after being away except to visit.
Emmrich had also imbibed in quite a bit of celebratory wine. Especially after all of their Mourn Watch friends had left for the evening, so only the team was around the table. Davrin kept toasting to them, and they kept laughingly raising their glasses.
“Did you enjoy yourself today, my dear?”
Emmrich unbuttoned his shirt once they were safely in the privacy of the loft above the laboratory. Rook had undressed faster, not making it halfway up the stairs before her clothes started coming off. In not but her small clothes, she settled herself against the pillows, watching him as he removed his own.
“For a day spent in a chantry, it was surprisingly exciting,” Rook smiled.
It had taken quite a bit of self-control not to let hurt and anger paint the rest of the day in a bad light. There was little trace of its effect on Emmrich, and it had her wondering if he was pretending for her. She was certainly pretending for him. And despite the worry she had that it would further stain an otherwise wonderful day, she didn’t want either of them to take the first step to matrimony, putting up an act for each other.
She toyed with the bedding in her hand. “Moritz Lechner certainly had some opinions about the day.”
Emmrich froze as he was unbuckling his belt. He turned to her. “Rook...”
“I’m fine,” she smiled. “It's fine.”
“It isn’t.” He insisted, “Did he say something to you?”
“I overheard him talking to Livia,” she chewed on her lip.
“I’ll handle it. Please, don’t take it to heart, my love.”
“If it…” Rook swallowed. “If it makes it easier, we can have something drawn up. It’s honestly not a problem.”
Emmrich sat on the edge of the bed, half-dressed and still somehow looking like he was as put-together as ever. He leveled her with a look, pinning her with the weight of his seriousness. “And who would it be easier on?”
“You.”
“In what manner?”
“Come on, we knew things like this would come up. Your friends, your reputation in the Order, and my… history,” she listed. “I don’t want to be some kind of mark on your reputation.”
Emmrich was not childish enough to roll his eyes, but the twitch of his expression showed his distaste for her reasoning just as clearly. She fought the instinct to dig her heels in, to stare him down until he gave in. Rook was used to being the shame of the Mourn Watch after the War of the Banners, regardless of any debate of fairness about the matter. The urge to protect him was stronger than her pride.
“I’m not after your money.”
“Do you honestly believe I need to be assured of that?” Emmrich replied tersely.
“No,” she shifted onto her stomach, scooting closer to the edge to rest her chin on his clothed thigh. “But if signing a piece of paper saying so keeps people off your back, I’ll do it.”
“It’s out of the question, Rook. There’s no reason to let anyone else dictate the terms of our marriage. We aren’t nobles.”
“Thank the Maker for that.”
He petted her hair, brow furrowed a little as he watched her with a far-off look. Perhaps the drink, more likely just a quick mind running wild. “Please do not let this vex you, my love,” he said quietly.
“It doesn’t feel great,” she admitted, “to think others just see me as the baby that nobody wanted, or even the Watcher that botched the War of the Banners.” She lifted herself to kiss him, “but honestly, I worry more about you,” she insisted. “I know you’ve been concerned about what others will have to say before.”
“I worried that I was being a reprobate,” he corrected. “You are young enough to have been one of my students, you know. I was a fully fledged Watcher when you were found in the Necropolis, It’s not something that should have just been overlooked. I had to be sure I…”
“You’ve been nothing but a gentleman.” She assured him. “My offer still stands. If it will make your life easier, I don’t care about signing a stupid paper, it’d only be in the case of a divorce anyway — you aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”
Emmrich laughed a little. “A pointless endeavor,” he agreed.
“But…” Rook crawled to straddle his hips, “let’s not linger on it. Today was the first day of our wedding celebrations. If you’re not too tired, old man, I’d like to end it on a high note.”
“I do believe you’re the one who tapped out first last time, my darling Rook.”
“All the more reason to practice.”