Chapter Text
Ever since the end of the whole ordeal with the Elven Gods, Rook wanted to go to Ferelden. Just to apologize to Harding’s mother in person. She felt like she owned her that at least. Unfortunately, most pressing matters held her in Tevinter.
Minrathous was still in shambles. Although the reconstruction work has already begun, restoring the Imperial capital to its former glory would take a lot of time. In the midst of this, Magister… Well, now Archon Pavus began to unroll his bold and sweeping changes. To say that not everyone agreed with them would be an understatement.
The Shadow Dragons had a lot to do now. Because of their role as protectors of the city during Elgar'nan's ritual, they have ascended from an underground resistance group to the semi-official peacekeeping force of Minrathous. With most of the imperial army either decimated or still up north, they have effectively become the vanguard of the new Archon. With support of the Divine, and new members of the Magisterium being Dorian’s appointees, nothing was stopping his reforms.
The Archon was honest with Rook. She was the hero not only of Tevinter, but of the whole Thedas. He wanted to officially make her his adviser. Her presence would not only legitimize him, but also the Shadow Dragons in the eyes of the whole Imperium and outside of it. He basically asked her to be a propaganda tool.
Rook wasn’t especially keen on this. She was no politician – she was just a simple commoner from a military family. While not thrilled to become a puppet in the imperial political machinations, she could see the point in it. Rook also appreciated how upfront the Archon was with her.
So she agreed.
Fortunately, the job turned out to be very similar to what Rook has already been doing before. Liberating slaves, helping regular people, killing remaining Venatori and lately also removing the blight residuals from the city. The only new part was advising Dorian and attending meetings with him.
One time Rook got to accompany the Archont to a Magisterium’s session. Admittedly, her role was mostly limited to just sitting in the loge and enduring some magisters’ disapproving looks. However, listening to Dorian, as he leaned to her and proceeded to flowery trash-talk their every political enemy, was very much worth it.
The only downside was not being with Emmrich much…
It’s not like they didn’t see each other at all. On the contrary. Thanks to eluvians, Rook made it from Tevinter to Nevarra almost every night. They dined together, recounting their days to each other.
Emmrich went back to teaching; both Manfred and his regular students. He was nothing but supportive of her decision to get herself involved with Imperial politics. She however, felt bad about it.
Before the final battle, Emmrich told her that there was so much he wanted to tell her, so much he wanted to plan together, but because of her new role they haven’t planned anything.. They haven’t gone anywhere together yet. To make it worse, sometimes they didn’t even talk after she arrived in Nevarra. There were nights when Rook was so exhausted from the whole day in Tevinter, that all she had strength for was kissing Emmrich hello… and immediately falling asleep the moment her body met his bedding. It was embarrassing, honestly.
Emmrich however, never acted like it upset him. In the morning he’d fetch her a breakfast as always, and just asked what had happened the day before to drain her so much. With his voice full of concern, without any traces of anger or disappointment.
And that would make her feel even worse…
This vicious circle would continue if not for Neve of all people. Rook’s workaholic best friend told her that she works too much and commanded her to take a break.
“Tevinter has existed for millennia and has not fallen yet. It won't fall down if you take a few days off”.
Rook raised one eyebrow.
“Did you get possessed by a sloth demon to match Lucanis?”
Neve was not amused.
“I’m serious, Rook. Ever since the defeat of Elgar’nan you haven’t got a chance to rest properly. Take some time off.”
Oh, so that’s why Neve has insisted they go to the cat cafe and not for the usual fried fish. Rook should have known that something was up. She has thought that maybe it was Lucanis finally rubbing off onto Neve, but no. It was just a set-up. Now, with a black and white cat sleeping on her lap, she couldn’t physically escape from the detective.
“That’s rich coming from you. Does the protector of Dock town ever rest?”
Neve slipped on her coffee and smiled.
“Recently, yes, she does. With the Shadow Dragon no longer in the shadows and with the Threads under her thumb, even she can allow herself some days off.”
“Do those days off happen to overlap with the times the Demon of Vyrantium visits Minrathous?” she teased.
Neve just smirked but didn’t deny it. Rook hummed smugly at that.
She began to pet the cat on her lap, hoping to gently wake it up before Neve would inevitably return to the previous topic but luck wasn’t on her side this time.
“Taash is going to Ferelden next week,” the detective stated. “You should go with them.”
Rook clenched her jaw. “Go to Ferelden” WAS on the top of her to-do list… And having Taash with her would make meeting Harding’s mother a little bit easier…
“I’ll ask them,” she agreed eventually.
“Good,” was all Neve said.
When Rook later asked Taash, they of course said yes. They even seemed… pleased with Rook’s request. Then she formally requested a leave from the Archon. He said it was “a marvellous idea” and immediately agreed. And with his blessing, she had no more excuses left…
Only then she could admit to herself that she was afraid to face Harding’s mother. She had already come to terms with the consequences of her decision. However she wasn’t sure if Lace’s mum had also.
That’s why Rook also asked Emmrich to come with her. One, because he was a brilliant Mourn Watcher, familiar with death; a person who knew how to talk to someone grief-stricken after loss of a child. And two… because she just needed him.
Emmrich understood that.
They went through the same eluvian Harding and Emmrich used for their little excursion. As a Shadow Dragon, Rook had seen most of the Tevinter Imperium. Fighting the elven gods had her traveling across the northern Thedas. But it was the first time she ever visited the South. She was a little wary. Growing up she heard a lot of scary stories about how mages are treated in the southern Thedas (not well). But Taash told her not to worry as Ferelden was still too busy recovering from the double Blight to care about a lone qunari and two foreign mages roaming around the Hinterlands.
Harding’s mother turned out to be, there was no other way to describe it, a wonderful woman. Kind, generous, and above all, forgiving… When they arrived she treated them more like a family than mere guests. Rook felt like they had known each other for years. Maybe because she resembled Lace so much… She patiently listened to Rook’s apology and promptly told her that she didn't blame her at all.
“We both knew the risk ten years ago when she’d joined the Inquisition,” she explained. Rook could still hear notes of pain in her voice, but they were drowned in the sound of helpless acceptance. This broke Rook’s heart. A delicious Fereldan apple cake Harding’s mother served them after made her feel even worse. They sat around the table and reminisced about Lace. Rook and the rest had only stories from the past few months but Harding's mother on the other hand… She shared with them anecdotes from Lace’s childhood and adolescence; they learnt about Contessa, her mabari and all adventures those two had together… Trading those soothed everyone’s hearts. Made grief more bearable.
When they finished the cake, Taash told them to go to Redcliffe and see the castle and surrounding village. They themself would help clean the dishes and they will catch up with the pair later.
Rook suspected they wanted to stay with Harding’s mother a little longer. She was told that during her imprisonment in the Fade, Taash was the one to break the news to Harding's mum. It seemed a special bond has had formed between those two after that, since they both loved Lace so deeply. Or maybe their pain just simply complemented each other: a mother who just lost her child, and a child who just lost their mother. Rook was glad they found one another.
While walking towards Redcliffe Rook turned to Emmrich and said, “Thank you for coming with me.”
“Darling, it was an honour to accompany you here,” he smiled radiantly at her and her heart immediately seemed lighter.
“Still, thank you anyway. I don’t know if I could do this alone,” she confessed. “I thought facing the Elven Gods would be the toughest thing in my life, you know?” She chuckled softly. “But they had nothing on Harding’s mother.”
“Rook…”
“I’ve had moved on, really. You couldn’t pull me out of the Fade otherwise. And I thought I've had come to terms with Harding's death. But… It still hurts, you know?” She felt tears welling up in her eyes.
“Oh, darling…”
Emmrich suddenly stopped and gently pulled her into a hug. Rook didn’t protest. He wrapped his arms around her, she just snuggled into him.
“You are allowed to feel this way, Rook. This pain is intrinsic to the death of a loved one,” he explained into her hair as he held her close. “And notably, you were not given time to mourn properly. Neither Lace nor Master Tethras,” Emmrich softly continued. “Now, with the world stable again, the ache you have been suppressing all this time is resurfacing at last.”
She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. It all seemed so obvious when it came from his mouth.
“So there’s no way to make it stop?” Rook muttered, her question muffled as she pressed her face into Emmrich’s chest. She felt him chuckle as he hugged her tighter.
“I’ve heard that time is a great healer.”
At that Rook raised her head to look at him with doubt.
“No other way?”
“Well, I believe this little gathering we held today will also aid with easing your pain. I genuinely regret we couldn’t retrieve Lace’s body. If we managed to arrange a funeral for her perhaps it would help both her soul and your heart.”
“How holding a funeral would help me ease the pain? Aren’t they for the dead? To help them cross the Fade?” Rook frowned and Emmrich just smiled.
“Dearest, do you remember what I told you the first time we visited the Memorial Gardens? Most of the funeral rites we perform are not for the dead. They are for the living. To give them closure and help them make sense of their loss.”
Rook remembered that. She considered his words. Maybe she really lacked some kind of closure… But before she could contemplate that thought longer, the cold wind blew against her and Emmrich. Despite his embrace, the chill seeped through her clothes. Shivering, Rook hid her face in his chest again.
She loudly complained, “Kaffas! Why is the South so cold?!”
Emmich laughed as he held her closer. He rubbed his hands along her back to warm her up a bit.
“I presume it is just a matter of you being used to how hot the North is, darling. Let’s continue to Redcliffe. Maybe we can find some place there that serves hot beverages. That will warm you up a bit.”
He released her from his embrace only to put his arm around her shoulder as they began to walk towards the village. She reciprocated by wrapping her arm around his waist.
“How come you are not cold?” Rook wondered.
Emmrich seemed unbothered by the Fereldan weather.
“The temperature fluctuations in the Great Necropolis can be very extreme. From bone-chilling cold to unbearable heat. You could say that my experience there has indurated me.”
As they approached the village, Rook noticed that despite the almost total destruction by the darkspawn, Redcliffe was slowly rebuilding. Amidst the ruins, people continued to live on. Most of the town was still in rubble but reconstruction of some of the old buildings already started. Humans, elves and dwarves worked hard to erect new structures. Meanwhile, residents crowded into temporary shacks and tents with all their belongings. Despite everything, Redcliffe was bustling with life.
“People’s resilience will never cease to amaze me,” Emmrich marvelled.
“True,” Rook agreed. “To win a war against the blighted gods is one thing. But to see people survive it…” Her arm around his waist tightened. “This makes it all worth it…”
“Indeed,” he conquered, holding her closer.
“To think that a few months ago this land was full of the blight's corruption…”
“Oh, from what I’ve heard people in Redcliffe were always persistent. Did you know that there was an undead outbreak here once, yet the town continued to flourish?”
“Really? When?”
“Oh, around twenty years ago, during the Fifth Blight. The Mourn Watch received some inquiries about it after the fact from the Fereldan Circle.”
No taverns have been built yet, but Rook and Emmich encountered many street food vendors. Since they weren’t sure what Ferelans put in their soups and stews, cheeses seemed like the safest option. They came across a very kind grilled cheese seller, who happily chatted with them, even though at first glance it was obvious that they were foreigners.
He told them that the cheese he sold was made from the milk of his brother's sheep, which he pastured in remote regions of the Hinterlands. It was so nice to chat with him that, before they knew it, they were already paying him for two pieces. However, as he was handing them cheese on skewers, he said something that ruined their entire day.
“Here you go, sir! One for you and one for your beautiful daughter!”
Both Rook and Emmrich froze. Their hands stopped in midair as they were reaching for the food. The vendor blinked a few times, surprised by their reaction. He looked once at Rook, once at Emmrich and asked “Is something wrong?”
Rook needed a second to gather her wits. She lowered her hand and frowned.
“I’m not—” she started, but Emmrich was faster.
“Thank you,” he quickly said, taking both skewers from the man's hands. “Let’s go Rook.” He started to walk away.
“But—” she protested but Emmrich interrupted her.
“Rook. Let’s go,” he repeated firmly.
She hesitated for a moment but eventually followed him. As they walked he handed her cheese on a skewer, but Rook had lost all appetite. Emmrich chewed his own piece without much enthusiasm.
As they left Redcliffe and returned to the desolate Hinterland, Rook asked, “Why didn't you let me correct him?”
“Oh darling… And what would that accomplish? We would only get a dirty look from him. It’s easier to just let it slide.” Emmrich sighed in resignation. He finished his cheese and he looked at her with concern.
“Why would we get a dirty look? We are not doing anything bad.”
“You must be aware of how we are being perceived, Rook. To an onlooker I look old enough that I could be your father. I AM old enough to be your father.”
“But you’re not!”
“Oh, dearest. This is not the point…”
“Then what is it?” Rook dropped her skewer and grabbed Emmrich by the lapels of his travelling cloak to stop him. “We are lovers. There’s nothing parental about our relationship! And I don’t care what people think about it,” she objected vehemently.
Emmrich's face softened as he wrapped one arm around her waist. With the other, he gently pushed the back of her head, encouraging her to rest it on his chest. Rook allowed it. She pressed her ear to his heart and listened to its beat. Her fists unclenched, releasing the material of Emmrich’s clothes.
“Oh, dearest. I know you always say it does not concern you, but I wouldn't forgive myself if someone’s opinion of you was stained by your relationship with me.”
Rook couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. “Well, if someone’s opinion of me is stained by our relationship, then they are not worth my concern.” She raised her head to look him in the eyes. “And neither yours.”
“If this was only this simple…”
“It is! Emmrich, you are the man I love. The rest be damn. If people can’t understand that, it's their problem, not ours.”
She saw he was opening his mouth to object again so she took this chance. She stood on her toes and silenced him with a kiss. Protest died on his lips and turned into a moan. His hands suddenly slid to her hips, gripping them tightly. He did not push her away. Rook considered it a success. But as she was pulling away, she realized it was not enough. Emmrich had already collected himself enough to give her disapproving look.
“Darling, you can’t—” he started but she decided to cut him off with a kiss again. Emmrich made an irritated noise that was muffled by her lips. Even if he was annoyed by her antics, he kept kissing her back.
“Rook, you must—” he tried again when their mouths separated only to gain another smooch.
“Are you done, professor? Because I’m going to kiss away every stupid thing you want to say,” Rook promised smugly.
“You’re impossible!” he huffed exasperatedly. However, at this point Rook knew it was nothing more than an act.
“And you love it,” she laughed.
At that statement, all faux annoyance disappeared from Emmrich’s face. He smiled and looked at her lovingly. “I really do,” he agreed.
This honest adoration in his gaze caught her off guard, but when she regained her composure she smirked mischievously.
“Good. Because you are stuck with me no matter what people say.”
“I suppose I will have to acquiesce to it,” he whispered.
This time he kissed her. And unlike her playful kisses, this was slow and sensual. She reflexively parted her lips. As Emmrich's tongue slipped into her mouth, she couldn't hold back a whimper. Rook felt warmth spread through her body. Her arms came up to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. Emmrich tore his lips from hers only to begin trailing them down her neck. She shuddered with pleasure at the first touch of his tongue against her throat. His hand caressed the back of her neck only to grab her hair at the roots and tilt her head back to give himself better access. A moan escaped her lips.
“Emmrich…”
“Hey.”
Rook and Emmrich jerked at the sound of Taash’s voice. They jumped away from each other immediately like an adolescent couple caught in the act by their parents.
Taash just stood nearby, watching them with a satisfied smirk. “I’m ready to go back. Are you? Or do you need five more minutes alone in the woods?” they mocked. Although teasing, their comment wasn’t judgmental.
Rook and Emmrich exchanged a look. She smiled at him to assure him that everything she said before was still true. She didn’t care what others thought about their relationship. Emmrich returned the smile hesitantly. It was a start. As he started to adjust his collar pin, which got a little crooked during their earlier activities, Rook turned to Taash and laughed: “We'd need a lot more time than five minutes.”
Chapter 2
Summary:
Rook is invited for the royal Hunt Ball in Nevarra.
Chapter Text
Rook woke up in the bed alone. Which wasn't particularly strange. Emmrich was an early riser and usually got up before her. However, unusual was that he didn't wake her up. Emmrich had a habit of waking her with a gentle touch or a kiss on the cheek. Then they would have breakfast together, after which they went their separate ways for a day. But today was different.
Today Rook was in no hurry to get to Tevinter. And that's because, Emmich had invited her to a hunt ball being held at the court of the King of Nevarra tonight. Coming from a military family she hasn't had many chances to participate in such events in the Imperium, let alone abroad. That made her both nervous and excited for the ball.
As customary, first, she had formally asked the Archon for permission to participate in the official foreign event. He seemed very amused by such a request but he had agreed nonetheless. As she was leaving yesterday, he had cheerfully ordered her to represent the Imperium with dignity. Whatever that meant.
Emmrich told her not to worry about anything. He'll take care of all the preparations, Rook just has to have fun. And she was looking forward to it. Not just the ball, but also spending time together with Emmrich. However, when she woke up and looked around the room, he was nowhere to be found.
“Emmrich?” she called out to him.
There was a commotion outside and the door opened abruptly.
“Rook!” Manfred happily marched into the bedroom. Rook couldn't help but smile.
“Morning, Manfred”
“Morning!” he hissed as he approached her. He knelt down by the bed and offered her his skull.
Once, Manfred saw Rook kissing Emmich and became very interested in the concept ever since. Combined with his fondness for imitating Emmich in everything, now he also demanded kisses from Rook. And she happily obliged.
She sat up and placed her lips on his frontal bone and smooched him. Manfred hissed in satisfaction.
“Do you know where Emmrich is?”
“Duties!”
Hmm. This most likely meant some Mourn Watch’s obligations in the Great Necropolis. Probably something sudden, since he hadn’t told her earlier. Hopefully nothing too serious…
Manfred snapped her out of her thoughts.
“Breakfast?” He asked hopefully, getting up from the floor.
“Only if you make me some tea,” she laughed.
Manfred hissed in delight.
After breakfast, Rook decided to get dressed and go look for Emmrich in the Grand Necropolis. It was unlikely Emmrich needed help with his Watcher’s duties, but she wanted to check on him nonetheless. With Manfred by her side, Rook descended deeper.
Although she had already got somehow used to ever changing ways of the Grand Necropolis she has always felt better with a guide like Emmrich or, this time, Manfred. It’s not like she was afraid of getting lost. Not at all. And the fact that she was now clutching the skeleton's hand tightly? It was only because he had a talent for finding his guardian without fail. No other reason.
Manfred guided Rook towards the Memorial Gardens. Which shouldn’t have surprised her, as many of the Watchers' rites took place there. However, what startled her was how many people had gathered here today. Sure, sometimes she saw other Watchers here but now? Rook roughly estimated around fifty, maybe sixty people including some chantry mothers and sisters. (She did her best not to stare at them, but seeing female clerics was still staggering to her).
Then it clicked. A funeral.
She had never seen a Nevarran funeral, but she suspected if someone was to be buried in the Grand Necropolis, the presence of the Mourn Watch would be necessary. Still, wouldn’t a funeral have been scheduled in advance? Why would they call on Emmrich to join them so abruptly?
Manfred pulled her towards the crowd. She looked around for Emmich, but she didn't see him anywhere. It was only when she and Manfred had made their way through all the mourners to a more secluded spot in the gardens, that Rook spotted him. Emmrich stood aside from the crowd, near the rose bushes.
However, he wasn’t alone.
He was accompanied by a woman. A beautiful woman, if Rook had to be honest. She must have been about the same age as Emmrich. Her raven-black hair was already sprinkled with grey, but remained thick and shiny. The wrinkles only seemed to emphasize the gorgeous features of her face. Rook could only hope she too would grow old as gracefully.
The woman was dressed in elegant clothing. And probably very expensive. Rook had learned a little about quality fabrics and jewellery from her time with Emmich, so she could tell that the woman's dress alone must be worth more than Rook's entire life's possessions.
The lady had her arm linked with Emmrich. He leaned towards her as she was whispering something in his ear. They both looked… dashing. Rook had to admit it. Like they were posing to some painting or sculpture. A distinguished gentleman and an exquisite lady. And were too close to each other for Rook’s liking. There was a familiarity between them like they had known each other a long time. They’ve looked… like a couple.
Rook never felt as inadequate as in this moment. So out of place. Have she and Emmrich ever looked this good when they were together? Like they were complementing each other?
Overwhelmed by these observations, she unconsciously stopped. Manfred tore his hand from hers and rushed to the pair.
“Emmrich!” he hissed joyfully and they both turned their gazes on him. “Hello!”
“Oh, Manfred. Hello,” Emmrich greeted the skeleton with a smile. He looked up and as soon as he noticed Rook, his grin widened. “Rook!”
The woman also spotted them both. She untangled her arm from Emmrich’s and ogled him with a fondness that that just irked Rook the wrong way.
“I shall see you later this evening,” she said, placing her hand on Emmrich’s chest before she started to walk away. She passed by Rook without a word, looking straight ahead. This gave Rook a chance to study her face a little more. Narrow, perfectly plucked eyebrows; flawless makeup emphasizing her innate beauty and her sharp eyes in the colour of… lilac flowers…
Lilac eyes…
Although the woman had long since passed her and both the rustle of her clothes and the jingle of her jewellery had long since ceased, Rook still stood there, frozen in place.
“Darling, are you okay?”
She was too lost in thought, she didn’t even notice when Emmirch and Manfred were right next to her. Her lover stared at her with concern and the skeleton hissed in worry. Rook swallowed hard and put on her best smile.
“Yeah, of course I am,” she tried but it didn’t sound convincing even to her.
“Are you certain? You look very pale… Did you sleep well?” Emmrich continued fussing. Rook wanted to protest but nothing came out her mouth. She couldn't utter a word. For the first time in a while she felt small. Weak. Like a child.
“I would sleep better if I woke up next to you,” she finally admitted. It took real effort not to pout when she said it, but she managed to restrain. Mainly thanks to the spectre of that woman that was still in the back of her mind.
Luckily, Emmrich didn’t seem to notice.
“I am sorry, desert. I had been urgently called and did not wish to wake you up,” he apologised sincerely. He offered her his arm and she took it.
As they started walking she asked, “What happened?”
“Oh, don't worry. Nothing serious. I was asked to pay my respects at the funeral of a nobleman by his widow,” he explained as they headed towards the exit. Most of the mourners had already left, and the Memorial Gardens became empty again.
“And since I have been acquainted with her for an extended period, it was difficult for me to decline her request.”
“That woman you were talking to… She’s the widow?”
From the corner of her eye she saw his face tense up for a moment.
“Ah, yes. That was Thalia,” he confirmed.
Rook felt a knot in his stomach.
Thalia. He calls her by her first name. No titles. No honorifics. Just her name…
“You two are… close?” she asked as they were walking through the corridors of the Grand Necropolis.
Emmrich smiled bitterly. “We used to be,” he sighed. “It has been some time since our last meeting…”
Rook clenched her jaw. She didn’t want to pry but… Well, that’s not true. She really did want to pry. She wanted to know who that woman was and what was her relationship with Emmich. She needed to know.
“You two were a couple?” she blurted out.
No one could accuse Rook of tiptoeing around problems instead of confronting them straight ahead.
“Direct as always, darling,” Emmrich chuckled. “Yes, we were,” he confirmed. “We even were engaged.”
Rook halted dead in her tracks.
“What?”
Emmrich also stopped with her, only Manfred kept marching forward.
“You were engaged and you never told me?!” Rook didn’t mean to sound so accusatory, but Emmrich winced nonetheless.
“It was a long time ago,” he justified.
“Sorry, I didn’t want it to sound that way” Rook immediately apologized. “I’m just shocked…”
“Offence not taken,” Emmrich assured her with a smile. She returned it and they set off again through the empty corridors of the Necropolis.
“How long ago were you engaged?” she asked carefully.
“About thirty years ago.”
Rook felt faint. The man she loved had been engaged before she even was born. For the first time ever, she truly felt the weight of the age gap in their relationship.
“Can I ask what happened that you are not—?” —married. Rook couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud.
Emmrich sighed. “Life happened,” he replied simply. However, Rook could hear echoes of regret still resonating in his voice.
“If you don’t want to tell me—”
“Darling no. It's not that I don't want to tell you. Rather, it is simply a long and mundane story.”
“Still… If you want to share it with me, I’ll listen.” She squeezed his arm in her as to reassure him. And maybe herself too…
Emmrich glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and smiled.
“Where would I even begin…,” he pondered, at which Rook laughed.
“Maybe from the beginning, professor. How did you meet?”
“Strange as it may sound, we met at a funeral.”
“Somehow this doesn't surprise me… Whose funeral?”
“Thalia’s brother. Just like numerous young Nevarran aristocrats, he found himself embroiled in a dispute with a scion of a rival family, culminating in a lamentable outcome for both parties. His funeral was actually my first outing as a fledgling Mourn Watcher!” Emmrich related the last sentence with great excitement.
“Thalia had frequently come to visit her brother's grave. Initially, I presumed they were just very close and her constant visitations were how she mourned. However, it soon became apparent that she had already taken to me, and these visits served merely as a pretext for our encounters… Thalia possessed an astute intellect and an enchanting allure. It was but a fleeting moment before I too succumbed to her captivating charm. It was my first serious long-term relationship.”
Emmrich smiled and his eyes were shining when he continued. “After nearly two years of this companionship, we decided to get married.”
The tone of his voice, the pure tenderness in the way he reminisced about Thalia was a clear indication to Rook that there was no bad blood between them. Whatever made them split up came from the outside, not the inside.
Full of anxiety, she asked, “So why didn't you two end up together?”
“As I have mentioned, life has unfolded in its own inimitable manner.” Emmrich sighed deeply. He looked tired and... old. She had never seen him like this before. Rook opened her mouth to say something. To express her worry, her concern, her love...anything! But before she could make a sound, Emmrich took a breath and seemed to shake off the fatigue. When he addressed her again he sounded like his unusual self.
“We were both young and rather foolish. We had been wise enough not to ostentatiously flaunt our relationship, yet naive enough to unforeseen the ramifications that our betrothal would entail.
“The times were different back then here, in the South. Even as a Mourn Watcher in Nevarra, as a mage I had been obliged to write a formal missive to the Circle seeking permission to wed Thalia. Thus, it was that her parents were apprised of our intentions.”
Rook was speechless. To her, the Circle was nothing but a school. Perhaps a little annoying, like most educational establishments, but just a school nonetheless. She couldn't comprehend the fact that a grown man had had to write a letter to the Circle for permission to marry someone. From what she heard, Nevarran the circle was more lenient towards the Mortalitasi. But if that was leniency, she didn’t want to know the southern Circles considered as discipline.
Before she could gather her thoughts to comment on these revelations, Emmrich had already continued.
“They were far from elated, to put it mildly. Thalia was the heiress of her family. She couldn't wed someone lacking noble heritage, much less a mage. Her parents have presented us with an ultimatum: either we terminate our engagement and affair, or Thalia shall be disinherited, and I shall face expulsion from the Mourn Watch.”
Rook's jaw dropped. “They could do that? Get you expelled from the Watch I mean.”
Emmrich grimaced. “In retrospect, I sincerely doubt it. Nonetheless, at that time, the looming threat appeared most grave. Now… I am convinced they at least had the capacity to hinder my academic pursuits, if not entirely sabotage them.”
“Oh, Emmrich… I’m so sorry…”
“For what, dearest?” He smiled weakly. “None of this is your fault.”
“For starters, for making you relive all this. If I had known, I wouldn't have asked. And for that you even had to go through it at all. There are all sorts of stories in Tevinter about the Circles in the South... but hearing one first hand... I should have expected it, but it's still a shock,” Rook mumbled.
Emmrich seemed touched by this.
“Darling, I can assure you that, as a Watcher, for a mage in the South, my existence was truly most comfortable. And the nobility likes to rock the boat in all nations of Thedas. As you are acutely aware.” Emmrich winked conspiratorially at her and Rook couldn't help but laugh at that.
“Yeah, definitely.” She paused for a moment. She noticed they were getting close to Emmrich’s apartment. “So what happened next? With Thalia?”
“Well, after an extensive discussion, we ultimately agreed that we could not subsist on love alone... Hence, we resolved to part ways on amicable terms… Soon after, she married some nobleman in an arranged marriage. On occasion, I happened upon her at some formal gatherings, but I haven't spoken to her ever since. Until today.”
Manfred was waiting for them in front of Emmrich's apartment door, clearly frustrated with the slowness of his guardians. He hissed angrily before entering. Emmrich and Rook followed him inside. Manfred right away marched into study leaving them alone in the foyer. As Emmich was putting his coat on the hanger, Rook mustered up the courage to ask “Do you regret?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you regret not marrying Thalia?”
He chuckled before turning to her. “In the past, I’ve sometimes used to. Now however, I find myself agreeing with a sentiment articulated by Harding in one of our past conversations: ‘How do you regret something you don't have? You don't know enough about it to regret it.’ Though I am uncertain where a marriage with Thalia might have guided me, our parting has brought me to you, dearest. And that's something I could never bring myself to regret.”
He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers and Rook shuddered.
“Emmrich…”
Her voice was barely above the whisper. He was already leaning in to kiss her when…
“Emmrich!”
Manfred stood in the doorway of the study, hissing angrily, awfully impatient.
“Ah, yes.” Emmrich muttered as he pulled away. “We have a surprise for you, darling,” he added, smiling.
Rook blinked. “What surprise?”
“You shall see…” He gestured towards his study.
She glanced at Manfred, who was shaking with excitement, and then again at beaming Emmrich. Hesitantly, she moved towards the study. The skeleton that had been standing in the doorway ran into the room. As soon as Rook walked through the door he hissed “Taa-dah!” gesturing at a mannequin in the middle of the office.
It was clad in a long ball gown. The material flowed from the tailor's dummy’s exposed shoulders, down to the ground. Rook noticed that it was embroidered with sparkling gems. As a whole they formed a pattern similar to scales. Apart from a few gold and lilac accents, the entire dress was a rich purple colour.
It was astonishing.
“Emmrich, what’s that?” she stuttered, unable to take her eyes off the dress.
“This darling, is your ensemble for the royal hunt ball this evening! I said I'd take care of everything.”
“But… how… the size?” was all Rook could stammer as she was still dumbfounded.
“It's simple. I estimated your measurements and gave them to a tailor friend of mine. I believe I possess a discerning eye for such matters; however, Manfred can make small adjustments if necessary.” The skeleton hisses in agreement at that statement.
“It’s… purple…” Rook muttered.
“Yes! Customary red is worn for a hunt ball. However I remembered that rich purple is your favourite colour hence I requested that the ball gown be fashioned in the same delightful shade. It is a little unorthodox, but… So are you.” He hugged her from behind and whispered in her ear in a suggestive tone: “And the lining is lilac for my pleasure, once I shall disrobe you following the ball.”
Rook didn’t react to his seduction which was unusual. Typically, she would respond with similar appeal. This got him worried so he quickly released her from his arms and searched her face. She was still staring at the dress, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Darling, are you alright?“ he asked, slightly panicked.
“The dress…” she mumbled.
“You don’t like it?”
“No… I love it. It’s just…” her voice trailed off. “I’ve never had a dress this beautiful…” she confessed, finally taking her eyes off the gown. Rook looked at Emmrich with watery eyes and sobbed, “Thank you…”
His eyes widened for a second before smiling fondly. He tenderly wiped the tears from her face with his hands and whispered, “You’re welcome, dearest.”
Rook thought that her recent mingling with the Imperial upper crust had prepared her for any extravagant southern party. She clearly underestimated hunt balls in Nevarra.
From what she heard, dragon's hearts or heads were put as gruesome centrepieces of the celebration. But not at the royal court. No… They’ve put a whole taxidermied dragon! In the middle of the ballroom. Rook had to consciously stop her jaw from dropping.
As Emmrich said, most of the people were wearing different shades of red, so she really stood out. Well, being a Vint and the Archon’s Right Hand also did not help her…
From what she heard, as dragons and the hunts became rare, the hunt balls stayed mostly a metaphor for it. “A romantic pursuit as a hunt” according to Emmrich. So she expected a relaxing and sultry evening with a lot of dancing. Instead, for many Nevarran nobles, she became a quarry of this political hunt. Rook was constantly bombarded with questions and didn't even notice that Emmrich had disappeared from her side.
When she finally managed to escape the clutches of the Nevarran aristocracy, she set out to look for him. Servants pointed her towards the royal greenhouse which brought a smile to her face. Of course.
Because of Nevarra’s cold winters, one of the palace’s inner courtyard was converted into a greenhouse so the royal guest can enjoy a garden without freezing to death. Rook recognized some of the plants as native to northern Thedas and was amazed that the Nevarrans had managed to grow them here.
From within the greenhouse, she heard Emmich’s laugh. She headed towards it. She passed other guests strolling through the garden, so she suspected she would find him in someone's company. She just did not expect who it would be.
Lady Thalia looked phenomenal with her hair tied high and in a flowing burgundy gown. She looked like she came here to hunt, not to be hunted. And once again, she looked like she belonged by Emmrich’s side. Who himself looked stunning in the Mourn Watch’s parade armour even though right now Rook could only see his back.
The feeling of inadequacy flooded Rook again. She might have worn a pretty dress and she might have had a fancy job, but she was nothing but a Tevinter military brat turned rebel. What the hell was she doing at a ball among Nevarran nobles? She stood out like a sore thumb.
She was torn from her thoughts by Emmrich's laughter again. Neither him nor Lady Thalia seemed to notice her arrival. So Rook, of course, had to do the most logical thing: hide among the plants and watch them in secret. Not her proudest moment, to be sure. It’s not like she didn’t trust Emmrich, because she really did. Rook suspected it had to be some kind of masochism mixed with jealousy that made her act this way. And probably a little bit of stupidity, so typical of a person in love.
“Ah, Thalia… I missed our endless discussions,” Emmrich sighed.
“Me too,” she chuckled. “It’s been a while since someone challenged me.”
“That bad?”
“You would not believe it.” She exhaled loudly to vent her frustration. “Among the nobility, people are either your enemies or yes-men. Nothing in between. To engage in an honest academic dispute…” She smiled. “Feels wonderful.”
“I’m glad… However I doubt that you brought me here, to this exquisite greenhouse, just to admire the plants and debate with me the best uses of elfroot. As enjoyable as it is.”
Lady Thalia smirked.
“Sharp as ever.” She took a deep breath. She wasn’t looking at Emmich when she started speaking. “I’ve been thinking lately… Well, for some time, to be quite frank. World almost ending makes people reconsider some things… For most of my life, I’ve been a dutiful daughter and wife. Even at the cost of my own happiness.” She gave him a fleeting but meaningful glance. “I think I’ve had enough. Right now I am the matriarch of my house. My children are adults and I’ve prepared my heir the best I’ve could. I have done my duty to my family. And with my parents and my husband dead… I’m free. I can do whatever I want. And no one can tell me how to live anymore.” She finished and looked straight at Emmrich. Her eyes burned with determination.
“Thalia… What are you… I’m not sure I follow…” he stammered but Rook called bullshit on this one. All three of them knew where this was going.
“Us, Emmrich. I’m talking about us. I want to be with you. For good this time.”
Rook’s heart stopped for a moment. Air was knocked out of her lungs. Everything around her became blurry. Only the couple before her stayed focused. She couldn’t see Emmrich's expression so she couldn't anticipate his reaction. Rook wasn't sure how long it took him to respond, because each second seemed to last an eternity. Finally, he cleared his throat and addressed Lady Thalia.
“Thalia… I’m very sorry… I am already involved with someone else…” Emmrich spoke softly, carefully even. He clearly tried to reject her gently. Rook quietly breathed a sigh of relief.
Lady Thalia's eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Ah yes. I’ve heard the rumours. I just… Did not think it was serious.”
“Well, it is. I’m truly sorry Thalia, but Rook… I mean Lady Mercar is very important to me,” Emmrich explained.
Rook felt like melting. To be affirmed by the man she loved in front of his former betrothed… She was glad she was hiding because she certainly had a goofy grin on her face right now.
By contrast, Lady Thalia's face took on a cold expression.
“Oh, I do not doubt your feelings for her.”
Rook didn't notice anything odd about that statement, but that might have been because she was still on cloud nine after Emmrich's declaration. He, however, sounded sour.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You are clearly infatuated with her, I’m not denying it, Emmrich. But she?” Rook could hear venom in her voice. “You must be aware you are just a novelty for her. Today she loves you. And tomorrow? Who knows. You can't expect a lasting relationship with a girl.”
“A woman, Thalia,” he admonished her sharply.
“A filly that will toss you away when presented with a new toy!” She rebutted harshly, and took a deep breath. “Emmrich, I am not saying this in bad faith. I'm just concerned about you,” Lady Thalia pleaded. She reached her hand towards him but he stepped away.
“I completely disagree with your assessment of the situation,” he stated curtly. “Moreover, my romantic affairs are a matter I would rather keep private.”
“Emmrich—”
“Consider this conversation over.”
Emmrich turned around abruptly, ready to leave. However, he only managed to take a few steps before he noticed Rook hiding among the plants in front of him. His eyes widened. Behind him Lady Thalia gasped audibly.
Rook forced a smile.
“Did you guys notice that they have stripweed here? How did they manage to grow it? In this climate?”
Unfortunately, Emmrich and Thalia didn't fall for her brilliant change-of-subject maneuver.
He walked up to Rook. Silent and with an unreadable expression, he held out his hand to her. She accepted it without a second thought.
“Let us go, darling,” he said, not looking at her.
“Professor Volkarin!” Lady Thalia called after them. Emmrich turned his head to glance at her. “I merely beseech you to reconsider my words.” She bowed and left.
Emmrich visibly relaxed when she was gone. Rook could see the tension leave his shoulders. “Let us go,” he repeated and guided her out of the greenhouse.
They walked in silence. Rook kept glancing at Emmich out of the corner of her eye. Finally, in the hallway leading to the ballroom, she gathered courage and asked, “Are you mad at me?”
Emmrich raised an eyebrow.
“Should I be?”
“Well… I was eavesdropping on your conversation with Thalia. I’m not an expert but I think it could be considered rude…” Rook felt like she was digging herself a deeper hole.
Emmrich didn't answer right away. They reached the ballroom in silence, and instead of responding to her words, he simply asked, “Shall we dance, dearest?”
Rook nodded, slightly baffled. She has danced with Emmrich before. In his apartment, after a romantic dinner. She warned him back then, that she had never danced court dances before. He, however, had not been discouraged by this. He patiently had explained all the movements and steps to her, and then they moved on to practice. Rook prayed that she still remembered something from that lesson…
She tried to recall everything Emmrich had taught her, but she had the feeling that all her movements were coming out very stiffly. As if she were a puppet in the hands of a very clumsy puppeteer. Still, she managed to make it to the end of the tune without stepping on anyone's foot, or without any other mishaps.
When the music changed to a slower song, Emmrich pulled her close. “Darling, relax,” he whispered in her ear. “You look like you are dancing here as a punishment.”
“Sorry,” Rook muttered.
Emmrich smiled at her. This helped her ease up a bit.
“Getting back to your question, I'm not angry. Although I must admit that I wouldn't suspect you of eavesdropping on my conversations. I thought you had more faith in me.” Rook felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. But before she had a chance to rebut Emmrich’s words and assure him of her trust, he continued. “However, I am acutely aware of the youthful experience of fervent infatuation.” Then he giggled. Giggled! Rook couldn't believe her ears. “And the fact that you are jealous of me is both amusing…and exceedingly flattering to me.”
Rook blinked and when the meaning of his words dawned on her, she frowned.
“Why does it amuse you that I am jealous of you?”
“Dearest, you possess the charm to ensnare virtually anyone within Thedas. Yet, you settled on the old fool like me.”
“Emmrich, the same could be said about you. You just had a sultry dowager ready to get all over you if you said ‘yes’.” He laughed hard at this description. The couples dancing next to them gave them dirty looks.
“Do you genuinely believe that Thalia could hold a candle to you?” he asked, still smiling.
Rook felt thrown off balance.
“I mean… Did you see her? She is beautiful. She is also a noble. And you two were already engaged once…”
Emmich cut her off with a kiss. It wasn't a passionate kiss. Just a simple brush of lips. But it was enough to silence all the dark thoughts in her head. When their lips separated, beaming Emmrich whispered, “And it all pales in comparison to you…” He gazed at her with pure adoration.
Rook felt tears welling up in her eyes again. She didn't even notice when they stopped. The other couples were still twirling and dancing. Only they stood frozen in the middle of the dance floor.
The next day, the hottest gossip among the court and aristocracy was the mysterious disappearance of Professor Volkarin and Lady Mercar in the middle of a ball. The more daring rumourmongers joked about how at least one Nevarran dragon hunter had managed to hunt down a Tevinter dragon.
Chapter 3
Summary:
Gossips from Nevarra trickle down to Tevinter.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Despite the lack of votes and limited sessions, it was a busy day in the Imperial Senate. At least for Rook, as she had meetings with Senators since morning.
After one of Archon Pavus’ reforms, the Publicanium, the lower house, finally held a legislative power. For the Magisterium to vote over a new law, it first had to be voted on by the Publicanium. As the Senators of the Publicanium were elected officials, the Archon hoped this would empower non-Altus citizens and limit the Magisterium’s power.
The problem was, most of the Senators were not prepared for this role. Until recently they were just bureaucrats, not politicians. Some of them were not prepared for such a drastic change in their role. They did not feel the burden of this role: that now the fate of the entire Imperium depended on their decisions. And some quickly fell into the pockets of the wealthier Magisters...
Dorian told her there was no way around it. The people had grown accustomed to the magocracy, and it would take at least a generation before Tevinter would produce citizens prepared to participate in the democracy. But they had to try. And hope that in the next elections to the Publicanium it would elect better Senators.
For now the Archon tasked her with negotiating and persuading the impartial senators. Those who had not yet favoured the Shadow Dragons nor yet bribed by the Magisters. Dorian believed that Rook as a commoner, a laetan from a military family, could reach out to them better than anyone else. And well… Being the hero who saved the world was a good bargain chip.
Now, after all these meetings, she was rushing to the High Town to report everything to the Archon. He and the Divine had a meeting with the Ambassadoria. Rook was supposed to meet Dorian at the dwarven embassy. Then they would have dinner together, during which they would “compare notes” and prepare for tomorrow’s voting in the Imperial Senate. They weren't sure how long it would take, so Dorian suggested she should stay at the palace for the night.
It wouldn't be the first time she had to stay the night at the Archon's palace. The first time was definitely a breathtaking experience. All the magic, all the splendour… Now however... A night in the palace was nothing compared to a dinner in Emmrich's apartment...
Rook half-ran into the square in front of the dwarven embassy. She saw a familiar face standing outside its doors.
“Tarquin!” she loudly exclaimed running towards him. “Long time no see.” As befits a high-ranking Templar, Tarquin was wearing full armour. Rook still remembered the first time she saw him in it, when he officially accompanied Ashur, as the Divine’s Right Hand. She’d got used to thinking about him as one of the leaders of the Shadow Dragons, she had completely forgotten he was still a Templar.
“Or… should I call you ‘Knight-Divine ser Tarquinius’ now?” She couldn’t suppress a smirk as she curtsied to him.
Tarquin seemed unimpressed.
“You think you’re so damn funny, don’t you Rook?” He snorted contemptuously. She was about to unironically agree with his statement when he bowed to her. “Or should I say ‘imperial adviser Lady Mercar’?”
“Ouch!” Rook hissed. Stabbed by her own weapon. “ You don’t pull punches. “
“Not when it comes to you,” Tarquin smirked. He looked her up and down and laughed softly. “Look at us. Two military brats in fancy clothes with fancy titles.”
Rook responded with a giggle. “Look how far we've come!”
“Too far for some,” he sighed as he opened the door for her.
Once inside, Rook saw the Archon and the Divine talking to some darwen officials in the vestibule. Clearly, they were getting ready to leave the embassy. When Dorian noticed her arrival, he promptly called out to her.
“Rook! Come here for a moment!”
She quickly rushed towards them.
“Archon. Your Holiness,” she greeted, bowing to both men. The Divine replied to her with a smile. Rook still couldn't get used to seeing Ashur's whole face.
Dorian pulled her towards him and turned to the dwarves.
“Dear Ambassador, have you met my trusted adviser, Lady Mercar?”
Rook felt the stares of the entire dwarven entourage on her. They weren’t outwardly hostile but rather… judgemental? She had the feeling that they were evaluating her like she was some commodity the Archon tried to sell to them. Finally, one of the dwarves, the Ambassador she guessed, responded.
“I've heard a lot about her, but I believe it is the first time I meet her in person.”
Rook put on her best smile.
“Nice to meet you, Your Eminence,” she addressed him, bowing. “Hope I lived up to your expectations.”
The envoy smirked.
“That remains to be seen. Tell me, Lady Mercar, of the many things I’ve heard about you, one in particular caught my attention: is it true that you were one of the few to visit Kal-Sharok?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Fascinating,” the ambassador whispers. “Would you be so kind to meet me sometime so we could discuss your stay in Kal-Sharok? Orzammar would find your information and opinions highly valuable.”
“It would be my pleasure, Your Eminence.” She smiled lightly. “I’m sure the Archon’s office would schedule a convenient date for both of us.”
He nodded in agreement.
“I will have my secretary do exactly that.”
Rook noticed that another dwarf quickly scribed something in the notepad he was holding.
“Marvellous,” chimed in Dorian. “Now that is settled, we'll be going, Eminence. Our schedule is very tight and we would not want to impose ourselves on the Ambassadoria.”
“Please forgive me, I did not wish to keep you here,” the ambassador apologized. “Although, you are always welcome here,” he added elegantly.
Both the Archon and the Divine nodded their heads.
“Thank you, Eminence,” responded Ashur.
“And you are always welcome in my palace,” offered the Archon.
Outside the embassy Dorian and Rook bid Ashur and Tarquin farewell before they headed to Fulmenos, one of the best restaurants in the High Town.
There was one simple rule when it came to dining establishments in Minrathous: if its name was in Tevene, no one but Magisters could pay for a meal there.
If not for Dorian, Rook would probably never visit a place like Fulmenos. Because, setting aside her non-noble lineage, she simply couldn’t afford it. But since Archon had booked a whole floor for them, she wasn’t going to complain.
Fulmenos was housed in an extravagant townhouse and occupied the entire building. The upper floors were dedicated to exclusive private rooms for the most distinguished guests. In the crowded square in front of the restaurant, they were stopped by one of the Magisters supporting Dorian's reforms. As far as Rook knew, he’d once been a member of Lucerni, and although he wasn't a member of the Shadow Dragons, he supported their actions. He wanted to talk to the Archon, so Dorian instructed her to go ahead and just refer him to the staff at Fulmenos.
The plaza was very busy that night. Maybe it was because the Wintersend was so close; everyone was busy getting ready and today was the best day to buy presents for the family in the High Town.
Rook felt many eyes on her, but she had grown used to it. But something was off. She got used to the angry looks and the admiring glances. Today however, people looked at her with emotions she hadn't seen in a long time: pity and concern. She was beginning to pick out individual words from the buzz of the crowd around her.
“...gross…”
“....she’s a child…”
“...taken advantage of…”
“...coerced…”
“....held hostage…”
“...weird…”
“...necromancer…”
“...groomed…”
Rook stopped in her tracks. Her heart was pounding and the blood pulsing in her ears drowned out everything else.
They were talking about her… and Emmrich… weren’t they?
But how? How did they know?
Ever since the defeat of the Elven Gods, Emmrich hadn’t been in Minrathous. They have never been seen together as a couple here. A few people within the Shadow Dragons knew. Dorian and Neve. Maybe Mae, Ashur and Tarquin had their suspicions. But she could never imagine any of them spreading this information. Especially some made-up version where Emmrich was some kind of her abuser.
Once the initial shock wore off, anger emerged. How dare they say such things? How dare they speculate about her love life like it’s their business? How DARE they slander Emmrich like this? (He can't find out about this, she thought frantically. He can’t!)
Suddenly, through the fog of anger, a single statement from a particularly loud and obnoxious passerby broke through.
“I don’t think it’s gross for her, but I think it’s gross for him. The thought of me sleeping with someone closer to my daughters’ ages than to my own makes me want to vomit.”
Rook saw red.
But before she could react in any way, Dorian appeared out of nowhere, grabbed her by the arm, and dragged her away. When she tried to protest and pull away from him, he just squeezed her hand tighter.
“Keep going,” he whispered warningly.
“But…”
“Keep. Going.” He repeated more firmly.
Rook gritted her teeth but followed along.
They finally made it to the restaurant. She was so furious she barely remembered how they got there. One second Dorian was dragging her away from the square, the next they were sitting in a private room and a waiter was pouring wine into their goblets.
The Archon also ordered Rook’s meal for her, which she was grateful for (despite the fact that she couldn’t show it at that moment). Even if she weren't consumed by rage, she probably wouldn't have known any of the fancy dishes on the menu.
As soon as the staff exited the room and closed the door behind themselves, Rook reached for her wine to just to gulp it down in one go.
“Argh!” All the tableware wobbled when she slammed the cup back on the table.
“Let it all out,” Dorian advised from his seat.
“ARGH!” She yelled again.
“Good, good.”
“They were talking about me and Emmrich!”
“I’ve pieced that much together.”
“They… they… were saying that he groomed me!”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that.”
Rook hesitated. Dorian didn’t sound surprised. Didn’t seem surprised.
“You knew…”
He sighed heavily. “I did,” he admitted.
“Then why didn’t you tell me?!”
“Naively I tried to shield you… I should have known that, sooner or later, the campaign of schemes and gossip directed against me would hit you too. And I should have suspected that, unable to smear you directly, they would choose this aspect…”
“...what…?”
“Rook,” Dorian began as he was explaining something to a child. “You yourself are untouchable. You’re the Saviour of Thedas, the Hero of Tevinter, the Champion of Minrathous and so on, and so forth.” He listed her titles in a bored tone. “Our political enemies can strike you directly. They needed something else.”
“So they spinned my relationship with Emmrich into something twisted and manipulative?” Rook didn’t even notice when she raised her voice.
“And you have to admit it’s a creative spin for them!” The Archon joked. “How would that young and innocent Tevinter maiden end up being taken advantage of by some old Nevarran necromancer…?” He placed his hand on his chest and feigned concern. “Grooming? Some dark Nevarran spell? Or maybe mind control by blood magic. Pearl clutching scenarios practically write themselves.”
“Couldn’t it be that I've just fallen in love with him? They talk about me like I have no agency in this! Like I’m eight, not twenty-eight!” Rook protested.
Dorian laughed bitterly. “Of course it couldn’t be like that, don’t be absurd! How would they discredit The Archon’s Imperial Advisor otherwise? It must be foreign corruption! And well, rumours about what is happening in the Nevarran court do not help the reputation of Mortalitasi.”
Rook had a problem processing this whole situation. She was on the verge of a massive migraine.
“But how would they even know that me and Emmich are together?” She finally choked out.
Dorian eyed her closely.
“You must have known that your attendance at this year's Hunt Ball would not go unnoticed. Nobility loves their gossip. At some point, it had to come to Tevinter. Obviously distorted ten timed down the way.”
He was right. Rook knew that. But in her naiveté, she was convinced that what happened in Nevarra would stay in Nevarra. How shortsighted...
Rook buried her face in her hands. Emmich can't know about this. Let them talk all the bullshit they want about her. But she can't allow the slander of Emmrich to spread.
“So what should I do?” She asks the Archon, raising her head.
Dorian raises a single eyebrow.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“There’s nothing you can do.”
“So I just ignore it?”
“Exactly! Even acknowledging those rumours gives them credibility, so it’s better not to. When asked about it, refuse to comment.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Rook sighed and sank into her chair. She felt exhausted from the day.
“Will it ever go away? The rumours I mean.”
“Entirely? No, never. Although, it will quiet down after a while,” Dorian assured her.
Rook stood up to reach for the bottle of wine lying on the table. She poured herself a cup full.
“You know, I don’t really care what they talk about me. It just pisses me off that they dare to insult someone I love.”
She said it like a throwaway remark, she did not expect Dorian to react in any particular way.
However, when he declared, “Oh, believe me Rook. I know exactly how you feel,” his voice was full of emotions. She wasn't able to recognize them all, but the tone itself caught her attention.
“Yeah? And what exactly do you think I feel like?” She probed before taking another sip of wine.
Dorian smirked.
“You’re angry. At them, for spreading those insulting rumours. At Tevinter, for being a shitty place for anyone who does not wish to conform to its obsolete rules. And at yourself.”
Rook blinked.
The Archon continued, “Because you just can’t leave Imperium behind. Not when it’s like that. Because you still believe in this mess of a place we call our motherland and want to change it for the better.
“And you wonder if you're just wasting his and your time, because you know you'll never be able to devote yourself completely to him. Not when you still can do something to improve Tevinter. And you don’t want to call it off because you love him, even if deep in your heart you know he deserves better.
“And you also know he himself will never break up with you because of this. Because your love and dedication to this cause, to your country, was one of the reasons he fell in love with you in the first place.”
Rook was frozen throughout Dorian’s entire speech. She could only sit there and stare at him, mouth agape.
“Okay, that was terrifyingly accurate…” She uttered when she gathered her wits. “Did you just read my mind or…”
“Rook please!” He scolded her. “No magic involved. I’m simply in a similar situation to you.”
She was about to question him further but then something clicked in Rook’s head.
Previously unconnected pieces of the puzzle fell into place.
Rook suddenly remembered when she first met Magister Pavus. Well, “met” was an overstatement. She had seen him giving a passionate speech to the Magisterium when she was still just an apprentice in the circle. She had been absolutely impressed by him. But afterwards some of her classmates had started some stupid jokes; calling him “oxfucker” and other slurs. When she had asked them what they were talking about, they had explained that there are rumours that Magister Pavus’ kept male qunari as a lover. At that time Rook had dismissed it as just a negative propaganda spread by Lucerni’s political enemies…
And then she remembered Dorian’s sending crystal. Many times she had heard him talk to the Inquisitor through it. But one time Rook heard another voice. A deeper male voice who called Dorian kadan and to which he responded amatus.
Oh.
“Oh.”
“Indeed.” The Archon seemed amused.
Rook was at a loss for words. She had been officially working with the Archon for almost a year now, but today was the first time she realized how little she knew about Dorian as a person. How much he himself had to sacrifice to change the Imperium for the better.
And if he could do it… she could too…
Dorian must have noticed a serious shift in Rook’s mood and, maybe to distract her, he out of the blue mentioned, “Have I ever told you I had a crush on professor Volkarin when he was my instructor?”
This caught Rook off guard.
“Really?”
“Well yes! He was quite dashing back then…”
“He still is dashing!” She protested and they both laughed.
Notes:
Rook should give Dorian one eluvian so he can Bull into the palace.
Chapter 4
Summary:
Rook introduces Emmrich to her parents.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
When Rook had declared that she wanted him to meet her parents, Emmrich was unsure what to make of it. Although their relationship has been going steady, this proposal, made just after Wintersend, still managed to catch him off guard.
It had seemed like the next logical step, but it filled Emmrich’s heart with uncertainty. From what he knew, Rook had not yet told her parents about their liaison at all. He had been concerned that his abrupt visit was not the best way for them to find out.
When he’d questioned his lover if it was not happening too fast, she just laughed.
“Come on! You introduced me to your parents on our first date,” Rook had pointed out. Emmrich had nearly bit back that his parents are already dead, Rook's however, may yet be killed by this announcement.
He had refrained. He loved this woman. He could no longer imagine life without her. Sooner or later he would have to meet her family. He could only pray to the Maker that they would accept him and their relationship.
However, the prospect of their relationship being accepted by Rook's parents moved significantly away when his beloved had declared that she wanted Manfred to accompany them.
“He is my son too! He has a right to meet his grandparents,” she had argumented.
“Grandparents!” Manfred had hissed after Rook.
Emmrich had begun to wonder if it was the relationship with him that had desensitised Rook to necromancy. He had to remind her that not everyone in Thedas looks favourably on such practices. And that maybe she shouldn't throw her parents in at the deep end right away. (Just their age gap would be hard for Rook's parents to swallow).
She’d just waved it off.
He had tried to find out more about her parents, but Rook just brushed him off again.
“Oh, you know. Just a pair of normal folks. Dad is an ex-military and mum is a homemaker.
Armed with this scant knowledge, he now was walking down the country road with Manfred and Rook.
He had gathered that her parents were living in a rural part of Tevinter, after her father retired from military service.
So far they encountered no major complications on the road. It was the hardest for Manfred, who was completely dressed for the first time in his life. Rook had faith in her parents, but not in her fellow countrymen. Manfred's disguise and face mask seemed to bother him. Every so often he would try to pull it off and Rook and Emmrich had to stop him from doing so. They received angry hisses in response.
At last, their destination beckoned on the afternoon horizon. A simple house on a hill surrounded by farmland.
They must have been eagerly awaited because they had not yet made it halfway up the mountain, and already the front door had opened and two figures emerged from inside.
“Turricula!” A deep voice rang out.
“Dad!” Rook cheered and ran to her father. Emmrich had to grab Manfred to keep him from rushing after her. Rook and her parents deserved even a minute of time alone. When he and Manfred finally made their way all the way up, Rook was hugging her mother tightly. He coughed to let them know they were no longer alone.
Rook let her mother out of her arms and turned to face him. She smiled so warmly, Emmrich’s poor old heart skipped a beat.
“Mum, dad. This is Professor Emmrich Volkarin of the Nevarran Mourn Watch,” she introduced him.
Emmich remembered his manners and bowed. “It is an exquisite pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister and Missus Mercar,” he greeted. Only now did he have the opportunity to look at Rook's parents.
Her father was a broad-shouldered, bald man. In height, he barely reached Emmrich's shoulders, but still seemed intimidating. Everything about his stature screamed that he had once been a military commander. He stood perfectly straight, and all his muscles, despite his years, were taut and ready to pounce.
Rook’s mother, on the other hand, was a short… elven woman… Emmrich couldn't stop himself from staring at her ears, picking out her long blond hair, a little longer than it was appropriate. He knew Rook was adopted, but he hadn't expected this… However, now he understood why growing up in such a home had steered Rook towards a path of fighting injustices of the Imperium.
“Emmrich, this is my dad Marcus, and mum Livia,” Rook gestured at her family.
Both of her parents were eyeing him warily. While he could see the shadow of suspicion on her father's face, Rook’s mother's expression was unreadable.
“Hello!”
Manfred chose this moment to also greet Rook’s parents. They look even more alarmed by the second stranger's masked face.
“And this is Manfred! Let's go inside and I'll explain everything to you.”
They honestly reacted better than Emmrich expected them to. (At Manfred, at least. Rook still hadn’t brought up the subject of their relationship yet.) There of course had been gasps and battle stances, but his love reassured her parents that Manfred would not hurt a fly. Still a little unsure, they let the skeleton roam around their dining room and kitchen. (Manfred has always been curious about new places.)
“I’ve prepared everything just like you asked in your letter,” explained Rook’s mother when they sat down at the table. “No meat, no seafood, cheese is fine,” she listed. “I hope khachapuri is fine.”
She glanced at her daughter and then at Emmrich.
Rook laughed, “Of course it is!”
Emmrich smiled at her and reassured, “It is more than fine.”
During the course of the meal, he swiftly picked up the Mercar family dynamic. Missus Livia was a listener while her husband and her daughter were THE talkers. Rook and her father just couldn't stop chatting. Mostly about Imperial politics.
“And you know what happened the other day?” Mister Mercar asked his daughter when most of the food had disappeared from the plates.
“No?”
“Magister Aemilius came to visit.”
“No!” Rook gasped. “What did he want?”
Her father grinned.
“He said it’s just a friendly visit.” He leaned towards Rook. “And he brought ‘a little present’... one hundred aurum.”
“He tried to bribe you!? For what?”
“He asked me to put in a good word for the reparations bill to my daughter .”
“Reparation bill?” Rook spat with contempt. “The one which is to grant compensation to former slave owners for their slaves' liberation?”
He nodded.
“And then what did you do?”
“I told him that I had no influence over my daughter's political decisions and asked him to leave.”
“And rightly so!” She sneered. “And the money?”
Her father shrugged. “I don’t know. I told Livia to put it to some good.”
“I distributed it among my new students,” Missus Mercar chimed in.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot to mention.” Rook turns to Emmrich, probably for the first time since she started discussion with her father. “Mum is voluntarily teaching former slaves to write and read.”
“That is indeed quite commendable,” Emmrich praised her.
The elven woman blushed at his comment, which her husband didn't like. He grimaced and gave Emmrich a sideway glance.
“So… you are a Mortalitasi?” Rook’s father addressed him directly for the first time. He put his elbows on the table, rested his chin on his hands folded into a fist, and studied Emmrich intensely.
Emmrich tensed, but did try his best to appear calm on the surface. He hadn’t felt under such scrutiny since he defended his dissertation to acquire his degree. He probably was less nervous back then. He knew magic theory and fade studies. He wasn’t sure what to expect from the father of the woman he loved.
“Well… Mortalitasi is such a nebulous term…” He began carefully. “Just like a Magister. Here, in Tevinter the word has a strict definition. A Magister is a member of the Magisterium. While in the rest of Thedas, all mages from Imperium are called Magisters.” He paused in anticipation of some kind of acknowledgement from Mister Mercar, but he only stared at him in silence. Emmrich swallowed nervously. “Similarly with the Mortalitasi. Although all the death mages from Nevarra are called Mortalitasi by other nations, within Nevarra itself, it is a more complicated matter. There are different orders amongst the Mortalitasi who attend to certain tasks. I am a member of the Mourn Watch, one of those orders, who serve as the elite guardians and keepers of the Grand Necropolis and its sacred repository of the dead.”
Rook’s father didn’t look impressed by his explanation.
“So… you are a Moratlitasi, right?”
“Well, yes–”
“That’s all I’ve asked.”
“Dad! Please, be nice.”
“I am being nice.” He sighed. “So Turricula. What is it all about?”
Rook frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Am I supposed to believe that you came home with a Necromancer and his pet project for no apparent reason?” He sneered. “Turricula, please. Pull the other one.”
Rook hesitated. For the first time that afternoon, she avoided her father’s gaze.
When she turned to Emmich, she looked at him with dread and uncertainty, he hadn’t seen her eyes since they pulled her out of the Fade. Emmrich instantly reached out and put his hand on hers for her to give her some comfort. He smiled at her and Rook smiled back.
“Mum, dad,” she looked at her parents. “Emmrich and I… We are together. As a couple. I came because I wanted you to meet him.”
For a while, the only sound in the house was Manfred's happily hissing in the kitchen.
“Venhedis!”
Rook’s father slammed his fists on the table and rose from his chair. He quickly walked towards some door.
“Dad, please listen to me!” His daughter called after him.
He didn’t. He walked out slamming the door.
Rook rose from the table herself and ran after him. Emmrich wanted to follow her. He started to get up when Rook's mother stopped him by placing her hand on his forearm.
“Give them a moment,” she asked, and Emmrich sat back down.
She thanked him with a slightly forced smile and removed her hand. Missus Mercar sighed and looked blankly ahead.
Before Emmrich had a chance to ask if she was okay Manfred emerged from the kitchen, probably lured by loud sounds.
“Emmrich?” He hissed worriedly. “Alright?”
He couldn’t help but smile at his ward’s concern for him.
“Yes, Manfred. Thank you.”
He noticed Rook’s mother was observing him. She smiled at him again.
“We should clean the table,” she suggested.
“You have handled the news with greater aplomb than your husband,” Emmrich commented. He, Manfred and Livia (she asked him to call her by her name), were just finishing doing the dishes together. Emmrich was washing, Manfred drying with a towel, and Livia was putting plates and cups back in the cupboard.
“Perhaps, I’m just better at masking it,” she rebutted. And maybe there was something to it, because when she put the last plate back in its place and closed the cupboard, she let out a sigh. “I hope she knows what she is doing,” she whispered in a broken voice. She glanced towards the door to the garden. Rook and her father were still talking there. “It’s just so sudden, you know? She never brought anyone home before…”
Emmrich refrained himself from informing her it’s because he was Rook’s first lover. He shouldn't cause this woman any more worry.
“I should make herbal tea for Marcus’ nerves,” she said more to herself than to him. “He will probably need it.”
“Tea?” the skeleton hissed expectantly.
“My dear Livia, you should let my Manfred prepare the tea. He is enraptured by bubbles and steam.”
Under Livia's watchful eye, Manfred brewed a large pot of calming herbs. When he was pouring cups for her and Emmrich, the door to the garden opened. Rook slowly entered, alone. She looked and sounded exhausted.
“Oh, you made tea,” she said when she noticed the teapot. “Good. Dad needs some.”
Livia grabbed her still untouched teacup and rose. “I’ll ta–”
“It’s okay mum,” Rook cut her off. “Emmrich, can you bring my dad some tea?”
Emmrich blinked and exchanged a glance with Livia.
“Absolutely, dearest.”
He carefully took the teacup from Livia’s hands and stood up. Rook did not move. Walking towards the door, Emmrich approached her. Up close he could see that her eyes were reddish.
“He wants to talk to you. Alone,” she explained in a half-whisper. “Don’t let him intimidate you,” she commanded, kissing him softly.
He couldn't get a single word out, so he just nodded. Rook smiled faintly and stepped out of his way. Taking a deep breath, he reached for the door handle and twisted it.
The garden turned out to be mostly an open backyard. It offered a beautiful view of the nearby fields and pastures.
He found Rook’s father sitting on a wooden bench. Placed against the wall of the house, it caught the shadow from the roof. A small table and a wooden armchair were placed next to the bench.
Emmrich approached him cautiously. Mister Mercar stared stubbornly ahead, not acknowledging his presence.
“I brought you some tea,” Emmrich announced, placing the cup on the table.
Still no reaction.
“Rook mentioned that you wished to have a private talk with me.”
That earned him a sideways glance.
“Sit down,” he said curtly.
Emmrich obeyed the order without a word, sitting in the armchair. For a moment, they sat in silence, watching the afternoon sun slowly starting to set down.
“Emmrich, was it?”
Rook’s father still did not look at him when he asked that question.
“Yes.”
“How old are you?”
Ah. We're starting with a big one.
“I am fifty four years old,” Emmrich admitted honestly.
The other man sucked his breath in sharply.
“Younger than me but still…” Rook’s father reached for his tea and took a sip before finally looking Emmrich in the face. “You were a grown man when she was born.”
It sounded like an accusation.
“I am acutely aware of this fact,” Emmrich started harsher than he intended.
“You just decided you do not care,” Rook’s father scoffed.
“Precisely,” Emmrich confirmed, slightly annoyed. And after a pause, “But please, do not misconstrue my words. I meant it as in I do not care how our relationship is perceived by the onlookers. I was aware of her age when she began her flirtations towards me. Hence I dismissed them. I must have misheard her or she did not mean it that way, I kept telling myself. At some point, I had to admit to myself that I wasn't misreading her signals…”
Mister Mercar did not interrupt him once. Emmrich suspected that he wanted to compare his version of events with what he had heard from Rook. “I didn't even dare to dream that something more serious could come of it.”
“And yet it did.”
“Indeed. And I praise the Maker every single day for it. I have erred on numerous occasions throughout my life, however, entrusting my heart to your daughter stands as a most treasured exception.” Emmrich couldn’t suppress a smile.
“Please Mister Mercar. You do not have to bless our relationship nor must you harbour any affection towards me. I may only ask that you tolerate me for the sake of the woman we both love.”
Rook’s father took another sip of his tea. He stared at Emmrich with an inscrutable expression on his face. When he put the cup down on the table, he raised his right hand.
“See these fields over there?” He asked, pointing to the nearby arable land. “It used to be mine. When you retire from the Imperial army in a suitably high position you are given a nice plot of land as a reward for your service. When Turricula’s magic manifested, I sold it all to pay for her tuition in the best Minrathus’ circle that admitted laetans.”
He fell silent, as if lost in memories. When he spoke again, there was tenderness in his voice.
“Me and Livia were both so happy. I don’t know how it is in the South but here… It was her ticket to a better life.” He chuckled bitterly. “But she obviously had another idea… It was our fault, of course. When you raise a child to think all people deserve equal rights, sooner or later she will start freeing slaves and fighting slavers…”
“You've raised her right,” Emmrich said honestly.
“Flattery won't get you anywhere, so cut it out,” he snapped, irritated. “What I wanted to say is that I trust her. She doesn't always make choices that I understand or would like her to make, but... They’ve always been the right ones. In the end, it led her to saving the world.” He paused and sighed. “I don't understand why Turricula has chosen you, but I want to believe she’s chosen correctly.”
Emmrich could not count on more than that. And he was fine with it.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
He feared those two words could not express the vastness of his sincere gratitude, but he doubted Rook’s father would accept more.
“Cut it out,” the other man repeated, confirming his suspicions.
Mister Mercar reached for the cup again and drank the rest of its contents in one gulp. He put it back on the table with a clatter.
“The name you keep calling her…” Emmrich broke the silence after a minute. “Turricula… It means a little rook, doesn’t it?”
The other man raised an eyebrow.
“You speak Tevene?”
Emmrich smiled awkwardly.
“I read Tevene. Many fine books on the theory of magic are only available in Tevene.”
“Is that so?” He looked again at the fields around them. “Has she told you how she became my daughter?”
“She mentioned you found her as a baby on a battlefield, after some skirmish.”
“Yes. Almost thirty years ago. It was close to an old Imperial fortress called Turris Eburnea. I… I did not intend to raise her…” he confesses in a whisper. “I thought I would just take care of her until the legion will be close to some city and then I’d leave her in an orphanage. That’s why I didn’t name her immediately. I was calling her the child from Turris Eburnea. Some time passed, she was still with me so I shortened that to the girl from Turris. And finally just Turris. Under that name I’ve put her in my family register as my daughter. And even if now she mostly goes by the version of her name in Common, for me, she will always be my Turricula.”
“Thank you for telling me this. And thank you for letting me be with your Turricula.”
“Don’t,” Rook’s father warned him.
Emmrich immediately apologized.
The other man’s face twisted into a grimace. After a while, however, he sighed and let go.
“I guess I shouldn’t be so harsh on you, since I myself am no stranger to the outsiders judging my own marriage.”
Emmrich felt overwhelming sympathy hearing these words.
“I cannot even fathom inherent difficulties in the relations between humans and elves within Tevinter. But I can imagine how extremely hard it was for you.”
“No, you can’t.” Rook’s father cuts him harshly. “Because you’re not from here. And you can’t know how hard it is for elven liberati.”
Emmrich hesitated.
“Liberati? You mean Missus Mercar used to be…”
“A slave, yes. My slave.” He spat that word with disgust. “She was a present for my promotion. From Magister militum. You know,” he explained quickly as he realized that Emmrich might not be familiar with the Tevinter military. “ A Magister who is a top commander of the Imperial army. Come on, it’s Tevinter,” he added when we saw surprise on Emmrich’s face. “Of course it has to be mage. Anyway, he joked Have you seen an Imperial Legate without a slave? Are you going to sharpen your sword yourself? Ugh.” Mister Mercar gritted his teeth.
“You don't refuse a Magister militum if you want to stay long as a Legate. So I took her. I’ve taught her to read and always set aside part of my military salary to pay her when I would finally free her. She was a lifesaver when Turricula came into my life. I formally freed her when Turricula was… three or four years old… I didn’t want her to grow up with a slave owning father…”
Mister Mercar reached for the cup, as if in his nerves he had forgotten that he had already drunk it all. He seemed very disappointed when he discovered the lack of tea.
“When I freed her, Livia asked me where she should go. I told her she can go wherever she wants. To which she asked if she could stay with us… And, because I was already in love with her back then, I… selfishly let her. We danced around our feelings for over a year. I formally married her when I retired.”
“You are a good man, Mister Mercar,” Emmrich tried to comfort him.
He laughed bitterly.
“Are you saying this to soothe my conscience or your own?”
“Why not both?”
The men looked at each other. Emmrich had the impression that they had managed to find some common ground. And for the first meeting it was enough.
“Let’s go back inside,” Rook’s father suggested at last. “Tevinter evenings are cold and that’s bad for old men like us.”
Emmich smiled at that comment.
“Oh, and before I forget,” exclaimed Rook’s father suddenly as they rose from their seats. “I trust you know better than to break my daughter’s heart, but it’s a formality.” He paused, and when he spoke again there was not a hint of warmth in his voice. “If you hurt her, I’ll pay for the best magekiller in the whole Imperium and have you killed in the most painful way possible.”
Emmrich couldn't help but smile hearing this.
“I would not expect less from you, Mister Mercar.”
“Marcus,” he corrected him and extended a hand to Emmrich. “Please, call me Marcus.”
When Emmrich and Marcus returned to the living room, they found Livia, Rook and Manfred at the table. A skeleton was sitting between the two women with some book placed in front of him.
“Look mum,” Rook commented when she noticed them. “Both are still in one piece.”
Livia chuckled.
“That’s good. We should make more tea.”
Manfred raised his head from the book.
“Tea?”
“Would you like to make us some more tea?” Rook asked.
Manfred hissed gleefully and rose from his seat.
“A skeleton preparing tea?” Marcus questioned full of doubt when Manfred entered the kitchen.
“Hey! That skeleton has a name and he makes the best tea!” Rook said. “You can keep an eye on Manfred if you don't trust him.”
Marcus only shook his head and headed to the kitchen, mumbling something under his breath.
“Please, sit with us, Emmrich,” Livia invited him.
“Mum was practising reading with Manfred, " Rook explained when he sat next to her.
“It was the first time I taught the spirit to read,” she smiled as she got up to put the reading textbook back on the shelf.
“I'll see how the boys are doing with the tea,” Livia said and went to the kitchen.
Rook and Emmrich were left on their own.
“Hope dad wasn’t too intimidating?” She asked, smirking.
“I would say he was a perfect amount of intimidating,” he joked and Rook bursted out laughing.
“Thank you for agreeing to come with me,” Rook whispered as she took his hand into her own.
“Thank you for inviting me, darling,” he responded, lifting he handr to his lips and kissing her knuckles.
Emmrich knew this before, but this afternoon at the Rook family home reinforced his conviction. He loved this woman and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. And on their way back to Minrathous, he began planning a proposal.
Somewhere romantic. Maybe the Memorial Gardens, since they already have had history with this place. Or somewhere in Tevinter? He had to ask Rook if she happened to have any favourite spots in the Imperium…
He hoped she would say “yes.”
(And she did.)
Notes:
Thank you for reading this little story. ♥
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