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Chapter Text

“Darling?” Lilya Rook Volkarin tensed guiltily, still hunched over the wash basin she had scrambled to in her haste as her stomach’s churning woke her from a sound sleep. It was that desperate scramble, followed by the sound of her retching that had woken Emmrich, and even now he was scrambling in turn from the bed and making his way quickly to crouch at her side in the dark. “What is it, my love?” He asked, gathering her vibrant curls, holding it back with gentle hands as she heaved once again, the shape of the basin allowing spatters to escape and splash against the wall below the washstand. Her hair successfully pinioned by one hand, he started rubbing her back with the other, waiting until the fit passed before speaking to her again. “Lilya?” She sagged a little, half leaning against him, and he wrapped an arm around her, drawing her securely against him.

“I’m all right….” She murmured, her voice slightly hoarse and out of breath, and he frowned. Taking the basin from her, ignoring the dribbles of foulness on its exterior, and placing it carefully on the floor, he gathered her firmly into his arms, still strong in spite of his age and apparent leanness, getting carefully to his feet and carrying her back to their shared bed. As he moved, he could feel her relaxing bit by bit, but he remained silent until he had them both tucked back in warmly, her still held securely in his arms.

“Talk to me, darling.” He murmured, kissing her hair, and she sighed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you, or to make a mess.” Was all she said, and he sighed in turn.

“Not about that.” He chided, and she giggled weakly. “What’s wrong Lilya?” She shook her head wordlessly, burying her face against his chest, and he gave another sigh, starting to stroke her hair. It wasn’t long before she had relaxed completely against him, her soft even breathing signaling that she had fallen asleep again, but he remained alert, continuing to hold her close until dawn stained the sky outside their window, and the soft tapping of bone against wood sounded at their door.

“Come in, Manfred.” He called softly, knowing that Manfred’s preternatural hearing did not in fact require him to raise his voice and risk disturbing the elf woman in his arms. The door swung silently open, and the familiar lantern eyes of his skeleton son peered at him from the doorway. “Mama’s not feeling her best, so I’ll just stay here with her a bit longer.” He went on in the same low tone. “If you could see to that.” He nodded towards the mess around the washstand. Manfred moved closer, head tilting thoughtfully as he surveyed the situation.

“Yes, Papa.” He hissed happily, hurrying off to fetch cleaning supplies, and Emmerich smiled, watching him go. He still held his beloved Rook secure in the circle of his arms, and thus they remained as Manfred cleaned up the room, replaced the wash basin atop the washstand where it belonged, and quietly left the room again.

The sun was well up before Lilya stirred again, squirming a little in his arms with a faint whimper.

“It’s me, my darling.” He murmured, starting to rub her back again in a way he knew she found soothing. She quieted, opening her eyes after a moment to blink at him, surprised to find him still there in full daylight. A lingering foulness in her mouth indicating that the previous night’s events had not been the unpleasant dream she had hoped.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, frowning, and he responded with a dramatic widening of his eyes.

“I live here.” He replied with heavy irony. “Surely you haven’t forgotten.” She gave a little huff of irritation, pulling away from him, and he sighed even as he let her go. “Forgive me.” He said, giving her cheek a brief caress, noting as he did so that she was paler than he liked. “I was worried about you.”

“I’m all right, truly.” She assured him. “I must have eaten something that didn’t agree with me.” He eyed her skeptically, but said nothing more, and husband and wife both moved to their separate dressing rooms to prepare for the day. No sooner had Emmerich closed the door that adjoined the master suite then Manfred bustled in through the door from the corridor, his glowing gaze more intense than usual as he looked at his father-creator.

“You saw to Mama’s breakfast?” He asked as Manfred began to dress him. The other Watchers would have broken their fasts hours earlier, but Manfred knew to make arrangements so that there would be fresh food available when the Volkarins slept late.

“Yes!” Manfred hissed emphatically.

“Good. We shall have to take good care of her while she’s feeling poorly.” Manfred replied with another hiss that was not quite another affirmation, but Emmerich did not bother to correct him, a sure sign that he was preoccupied.

Lilya and Emmrich came back together in their bedroom before making their way down to the dining room. He eyed her intently for a moment before offering his arm, noting that while she had applied some simple makeup to mitigate some of her pallor, he could see at her temples and the hollow of her throat how ashen she still was.

“You don’t look convinced.” She said lightly, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm.

“Not particularly, no.” He responded dryly. “Grey is not a good colour on you, my love.”

“I’ll be fine once I’ve had something to eat.” She assured him. He seated her at the dining table and then quickly moved to the sideboard to fill a plate for her. He watched as she immediately reached for one of the dark seeded rolls that she favoured, tore it open, and began spreading butter on it before he returned to gather his own breakfast. Placing his own, somewhat emptier, plate on the table, he turned back to find her nibbling cautiously at her bread.

“Tea? Cocoa? Wine?” He rattled off a few beverage choices, and she paused in though.

“Tea, please.”

“Black or ginger wort?” Came the next question, and she gave him a small smile, knowing that the question had not been a serious one.

“Splash of lemon.” She added by way of answer, and he nodded, already beginning to fill her cup with the steaming brew. When he returned to the table with two teacups, she had finished half of her roll, and was picking at a few of the other selections on her plate, and he frowned again, setting down the tea and taking his seat beside her.

“Lilya,” he began, his tone grave.

“I don’t know.” She blurted out, before he got any further. “I just… don’t feel right.” She concluded weakly.

“How long?” He asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

“A few days.” She said, avoiding his gaze.

“How long?” He asked again, his tone hardening. He saw her shoulders slump, as if in defeat.

“Almost two weeks.” She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, and he stiffened.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He demanded, his voice strident with distress, and she flinched, seeming to curl in on herself in the face of his upset. “Darling….” He reached for her hand, and she let him have it, her head still bowed, shoulders hunched defensively. He brought her hand to his lips, pressing kisses to her knuckles, and after a moment some of her tension eased, but she still would not look at him. “My precious darling.” His voice was like a warm caress now, and as it washed over her she felt tears welling in her eyes. She raised her head as they spilled over, and he felt as though his heart would break as he watched her dissolve into silent weeping. “Lilya, my Lilya….” He murmured, lifting her into his lap and holding her close once again as she fell to pieces.

She had no idea how long she had cried, but when it was over, she felt wrung out and exhausted. Emmrich still held her, propriety be damned, the fingers of one hand threaded tenderly through her flaming hair, and was still murmuring her name over and over, his voice a constant drone of adoration and support that almost brought her to tears all over again. She raised her head to blink up at him, and he fell silent, giving the nape of her neck a comforting squeeze. She opened her mouth to speak, but he bent to kiss her tenderly.

“It’s all right, my sweet.” He murmured against her lips. “I’ll take care of you.” All of the remaining tension went out of her, and he smiled a little sadly, getting to his feet with her once again securely cradled in his arms. Manfred put his head into the room as Emmrich started towards the door, his unchanging skeletal grin somehow managing to convey concern.

“Please ask Lady Myrna to send for a healer, Manfred.” Emmrich instructed quietly, and Manfred gave another gargling hiss of affirmation before hurrying off.

“Emmrich….” Lilya began to object, and Emmrich gave her a little squeeze, shaking his head.

“Perhaps there is no need.” He forestalled her. “But I would rather have you looked to than not, if you’ve been feeling unwell for weeks.” She sighed, letting her head tuck into the crook of his neck, closing her eyes. She was asleep before he reached their suite. This time he tucked her into the bed and then installed himself at her bedside to await the healer.

Lilya was drowsy and out of sorts as the healer gave her a quick but thorough examination, but she remained quiet, keeping her face averted as much as possible. Emmrich sat by, keeping out of the way, but watching the proceedings intently, and he did not miss the fact that the healer was mostly focused around Lilya’s abdomen. Given how their very early morning had started, this was not surprising, but as this went on for a few minutes, another suspicion began to dawn upon him. He found himself wondering if he was anticipating or dreading the answer.

“Watcher,” the healer addressed him first. “My Lady Rook.” Lilya raises her head reluctantly to listen. “It seems congratulations are in order; you are to be parents.” It was as Emmrich had suspected, and he still did not quite know how to feel about the revelation. He looked to his wife, and she appeared stunned. The healer looked back and forth between the two mages, noting their rather dazed expressions. “I’ll have some books delivered to you, shall I?” She asked Emmrich knowingly. He gave an uncertain nod, and she quietly excused herself from the room.

“I’m… pregnant.” Lilya whispered, shocked. She pulled back the bedclothes, staring in seeming incomprehension at her flat belly, and Emmrich moved to perch on the edge of the bed next to her. “I… didn’t expect this.” She went on unnecessarily, but he let her ramble, very gently laying a hand on her stomach. “I don’t… know….” She trailed off, gesturing vaguely, as if in reference to the wealth of things she didn’t know on the subject. She peered at him, frowning uncertainly. “Are you… upset with me, Emmrich?” She asked haltingly, and he blinked in renewed shock.

“Upset?” He echoed blankly, staring at her. “Whyever would I be upset? This is hardly something you could have achieved without my enthusiastic cooperation.” That startled a giggle from her, and then they were smiling at each other, each utterly enraptured by the other’s gaze. “Are you happy, my darling?” He asked finally, and she gave the question a moment’s consideration before answering.

“Yes… very happy…. Are you?” He didn’t even need to think by this point, his smile positively beaming as he answered.

“I’ve never been happier.” He told her fervently. He leaned down and kissed her, and she returned the kiss with fervor, wrapping her arms around his neck to cling to him as she devoured his mouth. A muffled moan escaped him, and he felt her chuckle against his mouth, licking and nipping playfully at his lips until he parted them to let her tongue do as it would. After a few minutes of this, he very gently drew back, gazing at her. “You should rest, my darling.” He said reluctantly, and she gave a small whimper of protest. “Would you like me to stay with you?” A moment’s stillness, and then she nodded, prompting a tender smile as he carefully repositioned, laying next to her, and drawing her close once again. “I’ve never been happier.” He whispered once again, burying his face in her sweet-smelling hair, but she was already well on her way to sleep once more.

Manfred checked in on them a couple of times during the day, quietly bringing Emmrich’s noonday meal to him, and responding with emphatic affirmation when asked to ensure something was ready for Lilya to eat at a moment’s notice whenever she should wake again. As it was, it was drawing on towards evening when Emmrich reluctantly decided that it was worth disturbing her to join him and other Watchers for dinner. He began stroking her hair and back, brushing kisses across her cheeks, eyelids, and brow, before gently taking her mouth. He knew she was awake when she began to kiss him back, and he raised his head to gaze at her, finding her cheeks still pale, but her gaze clear.

“Will you come down and eat with me?” He asked gently, and she blinked in surprise, glancing towards the window where the faint hue of twilight was just beginning to show itself.

“Did I sleep the day away?” She asked sheepishly.

“You needed rest, my love.” He replied lightly. Both of them were slightly rumpled from sleeping in their robes, and he helped her to change first before selecting fresh garments for himself. Freshly dressed, he came to stand behind her at her vanity, reaching over her shoulder to pick up her hairbrush and beginning to brush her hair with long firm strokes. She relaxed to his ministrations, smiling at him in the mirror, and only once he had reordered her hair, catching the bright tresses back from her face with a few well placed moonstone hairpins did he help her to her feet. They hadn’t even reached the dining hall when both became aware of the looks they were receiving. It seemed everybody was trying hard not to be caught staring, but they were eyeing the couple with ill-concealed curiosity.

“Cauldron of gossip….” Lilya murmured ironically, drawing a chuckle from Emmrich. It seemed their unique situation was already widely known. Without further talk, they moved to take their places at the long dining table, Emmrich seating Lilya near the head of the table, to Myrna’s left, then heading off to fill plates for both of them.

“How are you feeling?” Myrna asked Lilya, once Emmrich was out of earshot. Both women were aware of the number of Watchers trying not to appear eager to hear the response.

“Tired, and a little… unsettled.” Lilya replied mildly, her gaze downcast.

“I know that the Professor will see to your well-being, my dear. Do try not to fight him too hard.” This drew a soft giggle from Lilya, and Myrna smiled affectionately at the much younger woman.

“THE LIFE WITHIN YOU IS PRECIOUS. PROTECT IT.” Vorgoth’s matter-of-fact interjection from across the table was completely unexpected, and it took Lilya a moment to realise she was staring.

“I will.” She told him finally. Although Vorgoth did not require food, they still tended to join the Watchers at mealtimes. There were a few subdued chuckles at her rather stunned response, which broke the tension, and normal conversations resumed. Emmrich returned having once again chosen a wide selection of her favourites from the well-stocked table. As he set the plate down in front of her, he bent to drop a kiss on the top of her head. She glanced around a bit sheepishly, and sure enough, several of the other Watchers were watching her with indulgent smiles on their faces. She flushed, lowering her head again, regarding the food in front of her. By the time Emmrich returned to the table with his own meal, sitting down next to Lilya, she had eaten most of a nice pastry filled with a blend of cheese and spinach, and was working her way through a small mound of buttered potatoes. He watched her eat for a moment, before starting on his own meal. Once the Volkarins had eaten, Emmrich asked Myrna deferentially if he might have a word.

“Of course, Professor.” Her words were formal, but her smile made it clear she knew what he wished to discuss.

“I’ll join you shortly, my darling.” He told Lilya, but she shook her head.

“I would prefer to stay with you.” She replied. “If I may.” He noted a ghost of uncertainty in her gaze.

“Of course, my love, whatever you wish.” He assured her. “I simply thought you might prefer to rest.”

“I’ve done nothing but rest today.” She pointed out, and he chuckled, nodding. He stood, drawing her to her feet and tucking her against his side, one arm around her slender shoulders, her opposite hand held tenderly in his. Myrna stood as well, and preceded them from the dining hall, leading them to her simple study nearby. As they entered, a third chair materialised, and Emmrich saw his wife seated before settling next to her, facing Myrna across the dark wood desk. In spite of her suspicion that she knew what this was about, the senior Watcher waited for Emmrich to speak.

“I’ve no wish to neglect my duties, nor my students,” he told her by way of preamble “but I suspect I shall require some personal time over the next months.”

“I expect you will.” She agreed simply. “I know you will be as conscientious as ever in the performance of your duties. Take all the time you need.” They fell to discussing specific plans for other Watchers, including Myrna herself, to cover his classes when necessary, and Lilya found herself drowsing in her chair. She had no idea how much time had passed when she roused slightly to the feeling of Emmrich once again gathering her into the cradle of his arms. She was vaguely aware of soft music, and she smiled to herself, knowing without knowing that Myrna was playing the harpsichord in the corner. She smiled dreamily, nuzzling her face against Emmrich’s chest, and she felt more than heard him chuckle softly as he carried her from the room. By the time they were half of the short distance back to their suite, she had drifted off again.

She became aware of the strange flat grey light of the fade prison where she had spent days trapped. The weight of regret and grief were crushing her chest, and as she raised her head reluctantly to face a familiar statue, instead of the beloved features of Varric, she was confronted by Emmrich’s adored figure, his stone gaze accusing.

“No!” She hardly recognised the wail of anguish as her own, horror and guilt smashing her in relentless waves, the tears choking her at the knowledge that she would never see him again, and it was entirely her own fault. She could distantly hear someone calling her name, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered beside the enormity of despair that made it impossible to breathe, or even cry, she could only howl her loss.

Emmrich was beside himself. She had had nightmares before, of course, but always woke at his touch, his voice calling her back. Now, her screams were only interrupted by harsh, desperate gasps for air, and he felt his own heart squeezing in anguish, as he continued in his increasingly frantic efforts to rouse her.

“Lilya! Rook! Please darling!” His vision blurred as his own eyes filled with helpless tears. “Come back to me, my Rook!” It seemed to go on for an eternity, but finally she dissolved in hysterical sobbing, and he breathed a shaky sigh of relief, clutching her tightly to him. “I’m here. You’re safe.” Was all he could say, feeling her arms snake around him, clinging to him just as hard. “You’re safe. You’re safe.” He was reassuring himself as much as her, fighting his own urge to sob at her continued distress. Neither were certain how long it was before they both quieted. Lilya was shivering, even held as she was in his arms, in their bed, and he knew it was her body’s reaction to the overload of emotion.

“My love.” His voice was shaky with emotion, and she bit her lip, blinking at him.

“I’m sorry.” She began, but he shook his head, a sad smile on his face.

“I’m here for you, my love.” He told her firmly. “Always.” She seemed on the verge of drifting off again, but made a deliberate effort to rouse herself again, gazing at him through eyes reddened by weeping. He gently laid a long-fingered hand along her flushed cheek, feeling the wetness of her recent tears on his skin. He suspected that it was some remnant of the dream, which seemed more than the reliving of her time in the fade prison that she had described to him in the past, which had her regarding him so intently, but he waited to let her speak of it, or not, as she wished.

“I can’t lose you Emmrich… not now.” She told him fervently.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He assured her, suppressing the familiar twinge that the thought of her being left behind when mortality catches up with him always prompted. There would be time for such thoughts, but for now, she needed all the reassurance he could give her of his devotion to her and their unborn child. “You are the most important thing in the world to me.” She drew a shuddering breath, then another, still gazing at him hungrily. All at once, her mouth was on his, her body pressed flush against him, her legs parting to draw him closer still as she kissed him with a desperation that he instinctively matched. He groaned against her mouth, realising that all of her previous distress had given rise to intense desire. He could smell her arousal, and his body responded eagerly, but it also prompted a twinge of conscience which wondered if he was taking advantage of her vulnerability.

“Lilya, are you sure?” He asked softly, his hands gentle but firm on her hips, as he stilled her movements, and she groaned in protest.

“Please Emmrich, I need you!” She whispered breathlessly. His hands shifted to caress her buttocks, and she groaned again, this time in satisfaction, her hips rocking against him. He gave a shuddering gasp, his eyes fluttering closed as he gave in to his own hunger, his mouth returning to hers, hard and demanding now, and she matched his heat, encouraging him with breathless moans. The next thing he knew, she was straddling him, her disheveled hair forming a halo of flame about her head as she took him inside with a hum of satisfaction. He was at her mercy, feeling every inch of her searing heat as he was engulfed by her tight channel. The sensation was exquisite, almost painful, and he was aware that he was moaning in a most undignified manner as she began to ride him. He knew he would not last long, and he did not, his hips bucking uncontrollably as he spilled himself. She gentled her movements, bracing her hands on his shoulders, as she rode out his climax, but then she was rocking once again, and he gasped, realising that he was still hard inside her, nowhere near as spent as he felt he should be.

Leaning down atop him, he felt her beautiful breasts pressing against him as she took his mouth once again. Her hips’ movements were languid now, as if she intended to draw their pleasure out now that his immediate need had been sated. Their lovemaking became dreamlike, their bodies moving in concert, all moist heat and friction, their mouths still dancing together. As it went on, Emmrich became aware that Lilya’s energy was flagging. Her movements became ragged, and she gave a whimper of frustration, jerking weakly against him. Without a word, he shifted, rolling her beneath him, and taking over. She moaned approval, relaxing as he thrust strongly into her, eyes sliding closed as he brought them both to blissful completion.

Lilya thanked the Maker that she was not sick every morning, but when she was, it was awful. To avoid a repeat of that first morning, she had acquired a large bucket, which now rested on the floor next to her side of the bed, and she lost count of the times that she sagged over it, shuddering and panting in the wee hours of the morning to find Emmrich also sitting up beside her, supporting her, holding her hair, and often crooning her name in a tuneless lullaby. She had given up on trying to convince him to let her take a bed elsewhere, to allow him to sleep through the night more regularly; he would hear nothing of it, and although the shame bit at her, she was secretly grateful, letting her head fall onto his shoulder as he took the bucket from her, a simple spell and a wave of his hand returning it to its place beside the bed, empty once again. She felt chilled, although she knew there was no reason to, his body pressed against her side, reassuring in its solidity, as her consciousness drifted.

Emmrich, as always, did his best to conceal his own distress, the knowledge that this was considered normal not lessening the guilt he felt at her evident suffering. He wondered if it might beneficial for her to be seen by an Elvhen healer, and resolved to send for one as soon as could be managed. He eased her back down onto her pillows, noting in the dim light that her colour seemed improved, but the hollows of her delicate cheekbones seemed more pronounced than usual. He frowned a little, taking her hand and inspecting it and her fine-boned wrist and forearm. Alarmed now, he realised he could not wait for the mortals of the Necropolis to wake.

“Manfred?” He had long since stopped trying to forbid his skeletal ward from haunting the corridors outside their suite at all hours of the day and night, and for once was relieved when the door opened almost immediately at his soft call. “I need you to find Vorgoth. Mama needs a healer, preferably an elf, if one can be found. As quickly as possible.” Manfred stiffened, peering at Lilya’s inert form, and Emmrich gave him a moment, well aware that Manfred’s lantern eyes were much sharper than his own in the dark.

“Mama… sick?” He asked at length, his speech still somewhat halting and broken.

“I’m afraid so.” Emmrich confirmed. Manfred seemed to ponder this for a moment.

“Baby… sick?” He demanded, causing Lilya to shift and whimper fitfully, and Manfred brought his skeletal hands to his mouth in horror at having disturbed her.

“I don’t know.” Emmrich admitted, gently smoothing his fingertips over the furrow that had creased Lilya’s brow. “That is why we need the healer.”

“I go.” Manfred said, much more quietly, and hurried off to carry out his instructions. Only a few minutes had passed, but Emmrich was up, clad in a dressing gown, and settled once again in the stately armchair beside the bed, when he heard a sound like of a gust of wind quietly rattling the door. Vorgoth.

“Come in.” As with Manfred, he knew there was no need to raise his voice. The door opened, and the towering robed figure entered in utter silence.

“WHAT AILS HER?” Vorgoth’s deep voice was a mere whisper as they approached the bed.

“I’m not certain.” Emmrich admitted, his gaze still fixed on his wife. “But she’s losing weight when she ought to be gaining.” His head came up sharply at the tread of soft boots as Myrna entered behind Vorgoth. “I did not wish to disturb you, my Lady.” Emmrich sighed, but she waved it away, moving to kneel by the bedside, gesturing a couple of nearby candles into soft flame as she looked Rook over with a practiced eye.

“You did not.” She told him at length. “I require very little sleep, and there is no need to waste time sending for a healer when I am available.” Lilya woke as Myrna began a more thorough examination, but she remained quiet and still as the older woman did her work. Eventually Myrna finished, conjured herself an additional chair and sank into it; in spite of her assurances, she looked very tired. “As far as I can discern, the babe is well enough for now.” She began, addressing Emmrich’s deepest concern off the top.

“For now?” He echoed, frowning.

“For now we must focus on getting our Rook stronger, so that it may remain so.” She told him firmly. “I believe you are correct that she would benefit from a visit from an Elvhen healer, but that can wait for morning.” He nodded gratefully. “My dear,” She turned her attention to Rook, who had been drifting again, but roused herself with effort. “You’re not eating enough, and appear to be losing too much of what you do eat.” Myrna’s tone was only mildly reproving, but Rook flinched as if she had been shouted at. Emmrich leaned forward in his seat, taking her hand in warm comfort as the elder Watcher continued. “Smaller meals, more often, lots to drink, water or tea for preference. There are certain herbs that can help with the nausea, I will ensure that we have a good stock.” She got to her feet, and Emmrich looked up sharply as she faltered momentarily. Vorgoth was already at her side, an invisible hand at her elbow, steadying her without comment. “I’ll have Manfred bring you some tea, shall I?” She offered, sounding slightly breathless.

“Please.” Emmrich said gratefully. “And then seek your own bed.” He added pointedly.

“Thank you, Professor.” She gave a rare but rueful smile, nodding respectfully as she allowed Vorgoth to guide her from the room. When they were alone again, Lilya looked at her husband guiltily.

“What’s this now?” He asked her gently.

“I feel as if I’m doing this all wrong.” She replied, her eyes darting anxiously, but he shook his head, pressing her hand gently between both of his own.

“This is new to both of us, my love.” He pointed out. “It’s not all on you.” She squeezed his fingers gratefully, and he noted that her grip lacked its customary strength. “It’s my duty to take care of you, and so I shall.” He brought her hand to his lips, kissing her palm tenderly. “Rest now, I’ll wake you when the tea is ready.” She let her eyes close once again, and he kept his watch over her until Manfred returned with a tea cart. The teapot steamed gently, and was accompanied by a plate of biscuits and a small dish of what appeared to be candied ginger.

“Mama, eat.” Manfred hissed emphatically as he began to pour up the tea. Emmrich chuckled, passing Rook a biscuit, which she nibbled at cautiously at first. As the first few bites went down, she felt her stomach unknot, and suddenly she was ravenous. Emmrich watched approvingly as she finished her first biscuit and reached for another, helping himself to one as well. When Manfred proudly presented Rook with a steaming teacup, she thanked him warmly, and took an appreciative sip before polishing off her second biscuit.

“I think Mama could use something more than sweets to eat.” Emmrich suggested, and Manfred nodded with his customary eagerness to please. “Perhaps some cheese?” He suggested, glancing to Rook for confirmation. “And if there are any seed rolls left from dinner.” Manfred hissed an affirmative and hurried off, his demeanour almost joyful to be helping. Lilya continued making her way through the plate of biscuits, clearly enjoying her midnight snack, and the tea was still hot by the time Manfred returned with a tray.

“Fresh rolls!” He crowed, offering one to Lilya who took it with a smile. She blinked, not having realised that it was close enough to dawn for the bakers to have begun their work for the day, but the bread was definitely warm and fresh from the oven, and she ate it with evident enjoyment. Emmrich watched her now, relieved that the food seemed to be helping. He had observed her lack of appetite over the last several days, but felt much better now that there was a concrete plan of action. When she had finished her tea, Manfred began to gather the things back onto the tea cart. He took the bowl of sweets and placed it carefully on her bedside table. “Myrna say… ginger… for stomach.” He told her, and she nodded her understanding.

“Thank you, Manfred.” She told him with an affectionate smile. “I’ll remember.” Manfred took the teacart and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him, and Lilya beckoned him to join her in bed. He smiled, doffing his dressing gown and sliding into the bed, drawing her close once again. As he relaxed, the candles winked out, and he chuckled, impressed as ever by the subtlety of Myrna’s enchantment. Pressed together, they slept, both feeling more at peace than they had in days.

Chapter Text

The sheer speed with which Lilya hurled herself into combat never failed to take Emmrich’s breath away. His own custom was to hang back in any battle, throwing his formidable spells from what felt like a safe distance. Lilya, on the other hand, would be in the thick of it, at times surrounded by the grasping claws of malign spirits, undead, or even darkspawn, red hair flying as she whirled, lightning crackling from dagger, orb, and fingertips alike in a maelstrom of danger. He watched her, mesmerised for a moment, then all at once the reality of the situation gripped him by the throat. His beautiful and pregnant wife was flinging herself into peril with her customary abandon, and rather than doing his own part to keep her safe, he was standing back admiring her.

They had been tasked with clearing out a haunting in one of the twisting lower corridors of the Shrouded Halls, but had been unprepared for the sheer number of aggressive spirits that awaited them. Emmrich leveled his staff at a particularly large specimen, letting fly a fan of spirit bolts, and drawing its attention away from Lilya. As he prepared another spell, he heard her grunt, stumbling as a blow caught her from the side. Without conscious thought, he spun his staff expertly, weaving a bubble of protection around her, but bringing it back around an instant too slowly to ward off his own attacker. A rending shriek split the air, and Lilya laid about her with a tempest of wild electricity which took down all but the three largest of her opponents. The defensive spell around her sputtered and disintegrated, and she turned, horrified, to see Emmrich drop bonelessly to the ground, his bright blood spreading in a pool about him.

“NO!” Her own scream was frantic, and she lunged towards him, blinking through the fade to appear standing protectively over him. Fumbling in her haste, she threw a healing potion to shatter on the ground, showering him with both broken glass and the life-giving alchemical mixture. Although she knew potions were meant to be swallowed, she prayed to the extinct Gods of the Elvhen that he would gain at least some benefit from this as she set herself to face the four remaining attackers alone. The remainder of the battle blurred, her vision tinged with red as she took down the remaining spirits before slumping to her knees next to her fallen husband. Shaking, she drew out another healing potion, this time unstoppering it properly, and tipping it carefully into his slack mouth.

“Emmrich…” Her voice was shaking as badly as her hands “Emmrich please….” He swallowed convulsively, and then his eyes snapped open, staring up at her, his relief evident even through the agony that contorted his features. “Emmrich….” She could feel hysteria threatening to swamp her, the pain in her side sharpening to a stabbing torment that shot through her chest with every breath she took. “We need… help….” Her thoughts were slipping, but that fact was very clear, and he gritted his teeth, hands moving clumsily through a simple summoning, a single wisp all he could manage in his current state.

“Help…” He breathed the plea, willing the wisp to understand their need. “Watch-ers….” The wisp made a faint chiming of assent, and it darted off. By the time Watchers found them, led by the determined wisp, Emmrich had fallen unconscious again, and Lilya was hunched over him, breathing raggedly, apparently clinging to her own consciousness through sheer force of will. The amount of blood that surrounded them was appalling, especially as it became clear that all of it was his. A healer immediately went to work with herbs and magic both, tearing Emmrich’s ruined shirt to gain unimpeded access to the wounds. Rook gave a strangled sound of horror at the expanse of ruined flesh thus revealed. A second healer gently but firmly drew her away, urging her to lay down, and finding that she could not lay flat, the pain too great, causing her to twist and writhe into a tightly curled position, each breath a whimper that she sought unsuccessfully to stifle. She was aware of the spell being woven over her, but had no strength left to resist as soft velvet blackness pulled her under.

When she came to, she was propped on a mound of pillows, holding her body in a semi-reclined position which made breathing bearable, if barely. She blinked, disoriented, realising that she was back in her own bed, in the suite she shared with Emmrich, but she was the bed’s only occupant. She tried to sit up only to sag back with a soft cry, the stabbing agony of her injury surging back into her consciousness.

“Mama!” Her eyes were closed, but she didn’t need to see to know that Manfred was keeping watch by her bedside. She felt the chill touch of finger bones against her cheek, but managed a weak smile that she hoped would be reassuring.

“Manfred, where is Papa?” She asked, every syllable causing a fresh stab, white-hot and blinding, like the lightning she usually manipulated so effortlessly.

“Infirm’ry” He stumbled a little over the unfamiliar word, and she nodded her gratitude.

“Please… go look… see that he’s… all right?” She felt slow and stupid, trying to convey her meaning in the smallest number of words possible, even that effort leaving her gasping for breath.

“I go.” Manfred said, and she heard him leave the room.

“My Lady Rook?” Another voice intruded, and she did open her eyes this time to find the healer who had first told her she was pregnant approaching the bed. “You’ve broken some ribs, my Lady.” She had guessed as much, but simply nodded in response. “We’ve done all we can, I’m afraid.” The healer concluded apologetically.

“What of… Emmrich?” Rook asked haltingly, and the healer sighed.

“He will live.” She began heavily, and tension Rook hadn’t realised she’d been holding released in a rush, making her feel dizzy and nauseated. “His wounds were serious. Very serious.” Rook felt tears running down her cheeks, and the healer fell silent, apparently uncertain what more to tell her. “Please try to rest, my Lady.” She murmured at length. Rook did not hear her leave.

Manfred made his way to the infirmary to check on Emmrich, and found him apparently resting easily, eyes closed, breathing soft and even. The skeleton surveyed the bulky bandages that wrapped Emmrich’s torso, noting that the cloth was already becoming stained red in places. A healer came out of their office to greet him with a solemn nod, which Manfred returned, as his Papa had taught him.

“Papa… blood.” He said haltingly, pointing, and the healer nodded again.

“We shouldn’t disturb him.” They said softly. “We will change his bandages the next time he wakes.”

“I go… Mama.” Manfred said wistfully. Having to choose which of his parents to stay with was troubling, but he knew what Emmrich would prefer, so having assured himself that Emmrich was being taken care of, he returned to the suite where he found Rook once again sleeping fitfully.

Manfred was still at Rook’s bedside, hours later, when the nightmares started. He knew that his Mama had bad dreams sometimes, and he had seen Emmrich take her in his arms and pull her out of them on more than one occasion. He knew that Mama needed Papa to make the bad dreams go away. He was reluctant to leave her alone in this state, but was also determined to get help, so leave her he did, heading for the infirmary at a shambling run. The infirmary was dark and still, its only patient fast asleep, but Manfred didn’t hesitate, conjuring an orb of Veilfire, and shaking Emmrich as gently as he could. Emmrich woke with a groan, groping for alertness as he found Manfred bending over him.

“Mama… dreams.” Manfred told him urgently, and he frowned, taking the full meaning immediately. He knew he was far too weak to go to her physically, which left only one option. He had occasionally resorted to inserting himself into her nightmares before, when she proved particularly difficult to rouse, but always before they had been in very close physical proximity, allowing him to track her spirit into the fade. This was altogether a different prospect, and he only hoped he had the strength for it.

“Return to her, Manfred.” He instructed, wincing as the dull ache in his chest flared to a sheet of fire as he spoke. “I will do what I can.” This last was gritted out between clenched teeth, but Manfred took him at his word, and did as he was bidden. Emmrich took a moment to clear his mind, breathing slowly as the pain ebbed, closing his eyes and allowing his consciousness to slip into the fade.

He was careful not to try too hard, reaching out with every sense he had available to him, searching the aetheric currents for anything that might suggest a direction. It seemed to take an eternity, but find her he did, huddled on her knees in the unmistakable grey light of her remembered fade prison, emaciated arms wrapped around herself, as anguished sobs racked her. Standing huge over her, its shadow seeming to pin her in place was a statue, and Emmrich gasped in horror as his own face glared down at the weeping elf at his feet.

“Rook, darling, this isn’t real.” He told her firmly, floating his consciousness closer, kneeling at her side, and wrapping his own incorporeal arms around her shuddering form. “I’m here with you.” He was aware as he held her that this dream Rook was on the brink of starvation, skin stretched too tight, too close, around bones that felt as delicate and brittle as a bird’s. She slumped against him, seemingly too weak to do otherwise, and he drew her in. “I’m here, Rook, you haven’t killed me.” He murmured, having learned over the years, that in this place, she responded much better to the name given to her by Varric, the one they had all used at this time in her life; this place was of the past, and so must his appellation of her be.

All he could do was speak truth to her, assuring her of his love, and ride out the emotional storm with her. Eventually the weeping ran its course, and he held her tenderly, still murmuring reassurance against her hair, even that vivid colour muted in this place. He couldn’t bring himself to let her go, continuing to hold her, aware that his physical body would still take this as much-needed rest, through the remainder of the night. When Rook’s frail dream-body suddenly whispered out of existence, he knew that she had wakened, and he let his own consciousness drift from its fadewalking, returning to a body that was inflamed with pain that vividly recalled the demon claws that had torn into his body. A strangled groan escaped him, and he heard sudden movement of rapid footsteps approaching his bed.

“Oh thank the Maker!” One of the healers gasped reflexively, bending over him. “We couldn’t wake you. I feared the worst, until Lady Myrna looked in, and she told me you were fadewalking.” It was the barest spark next to his physical pain, but Emmrich felt a pang of conscience at that.

“Forgive me…. I’d no wish… to cause distress….” He said, trying for his usual cordiality, but falling well short.

“I’m just glad you found your way back.” The healer told him fervently, and Emmrich frowned.

“Was that… in question?” He asked haltingly.

“No one said as much.” The healer admitted. “But you’ve lost a lot of blood. It would weaken anyone.” Emmrich started to nod, and immediately regretted it, stiffening with a whimper. The healer bit their lip, watching him with concern. “Professor.” Their tone was diffident, and he forced himself to focus on their face, making an effort to bring to mind a name.

“Kai, is it not?” He asked, and the healer nodded with apparent surprise.

“I didn’t expect you to remember me, sir.” They told him earnestly. “I only took two of your classes.”

“Your empathy scores were always… very high…. Impressive….” Emmrich told him, words still coming with difficulty, but he managed a passable smile, which the young individual at his bedside returned. “Can you tell me… my wife?…” He entreated, long fingers flexing anxiously, gripping the bedsheets as though that might help to steady him.

“She’s all right, Professor.” Kai assured him. “She’s broken some ribs, but the baby is unhurt.” Emmrich’s sigh of relief became a harsh moan halfway through, and Kai frowned, leaning forward to rest a gentle hand over the bandages binding the older man’s chest. The light pressure was somehow comforting, in spite of the blazing pain beneath, and he allowed his eyes to close as he felt magic suffuse his wounds, the pain ebbing slightly.

“Thank you….” He mumbled, although whether it was for the information about Rook or the healing was unclear. “When can I… see her?” He tried to keep his voice calm as he asked the next question. Kai was about to answer when their attention was drawn towards the doorway from the corridor, eyes widening.

“Emmrich?” Her voice was quavering but unmistakable, and Emmrich’s head turned sharply to stare as Manfred helped Lilya into the room. The pair tottered awkwardly, Manfred clearly struggling to support her and keep his balance, but just as clearly determined to do as his Mama had asked. After a moment’s stunned stillness, Kai leapt to their feet, hurrying over to help, and she sagged against them, white to the lips, shivering with exhaustion. Emmrich watched these proceedings helplessly from his bed, teeth worrying at his lower lip, hands reaching ineffectually towards her as Kai got her into the chair they had just vacated.

“What are you… doing here?” He demanded, his voice strained but ringing with worry.

“Had… to see….” She faltered. He could see how every breath pained her, and the walk from their suite had clearly left her winded.

“Just breathe, my Lady.” Kai put in, their voice calm and competent. “Professor, if I may.” The turned back to Emmrich, receiving a tense nod before focusing on Manfred, who stood by uncertainly. “Please go find the healer Dierdre. At this hour she is likely in the dining hall breaking her fast. Tell her that she is needed in the infirmary.”

“Yes!” Manfred seemed relieved to have been given a task, and hurried from the room. For a moment the only sound, once Manfred’s steps faded down the corridor, was the strained breathing of both Volkarins. By the time the second healer arrived, trailing behind the anxious Manfred, Emmrich was talking Rook through a novice-level breathing exercise, his own voice still far from steady, while Kai looked on in apparent bemusement.

“Not too deep, dearest.” Emmrich corrected gently, as her breath caught on a faint moan. “Just enough.” It was clear that he was still not breathing easily himself, but at the moment all of his considerable focus was bent on easing his wife’s pain. “Has she eaten?” He asked Dierdre as she entered, sparing her a brief glance, his tone as low and even as before.

“No, Professor.” She told him heavily.

“So it’s been… nearly a full day….” Emmrich winced, a spasm of pain briefly warping his refined features, but he regained control very quickly. “Could you…?” He began, and Dierdre cut him off briskly.

“Of course, Professor. I won’t be long.” She bobbed him a nod, seemingly stopping just short of curtsying, and hurried out again. Manfred moved to stand by Lilya’s chair, looking back and forth between his parents in evident agitation.

“It’s all right… Manfred….” Emmrich attempted to soothe him, but the darting glances continued, drawing a sigh from the necromancer, which became yet another grimace of pain. “It will… be all right.” He managed weakly.

“Papa… tired.” Manfred observed, and the ghost of a smile flitted across Rook’s pale lips.

“So tired….” Emmrich agreed faintly. “Watch over… Mama. See that… she eats.” He gave another moan as he allowed himself to relax, but within minutes the only sound was his soft snoring. Lilya let her head sag against the back of the chair in which she sat, her own sigh catching in her throat, a muted hiss of discomfort at the continued throbbing of her abused ribs. Manfred gave a hiss of his own, clearly intending to comfort her, the brush of skeletal fingers across the back of her hand barely seeming cold at all against her chilled flesh.

“Mama… cold.” Manfred told Kai, and the healer rushed to get her a blanket, draping it very carefully about her seated form.

“I’m sorry, my Lady. You should have told me.” They scolded her mildly. She said nothing, her eyelids drooping as she regarded them.

“I need… to stay….” She told them, her green eyes gleaming dully. “Please….”

“Of course, my Lady.” They assured her, not bothering to mention that in order to get her back to her own bed at this point they would have to have her carried. “Just try to relax.” She was already drowsing by the time Dierdre returned with a tray, but she was roused by insistent muttering hisses from Manfred, who fully intended to follow Emmrich’s final instruction to the letter. Rook did her best, nibbling at the few things that did not strike her as completely repellent, and sternly swallowing down the nausea that accompanied every bite. When she had had all that she could stomach, even Rook was aware that she had not eaten enough, but Manfred seemed satisfied when she pushed the tray away.

“Make sure you drink something.” Dierdre put in quietly, and Rook realised the healer had been watching her the whole time, a faint frown on her face. Rook sighed, picking up the glass of water from the tray, her hand shaking badly enough that the liquid spilled over her fingers, and she hissed in frustration. Dierdre quickly moved forward, gently steadying Rook’s hand, and helping her guide the glass to her mouth to take a sip. “Slowly.” The healer murmured, encouraging her to take a few sips before taking the glass from her and setting it down. “Do you need anything else?” Came the soft question. Rook shook her head, eyes heavy with exhaustion, and when there was nothing further from the healer, she let sleep carry her away.

She woke to the by-now-familiar sensation of her stomach’s churning and reached instinctively for the bucket that was always beside her bed. All at once she realised that she was not in her bed, she was in a chair in the infirmary, her body cocooned in a blanket, and there was nowhere to go. She made a half-hearted attempt to disentangle herself from the blanket, before the wave of nausea broke over her, doubling her over as she vomited. Then she was falling, the impact driving the breath from her lungs, her broken ribs afire with pain, her stomach still heaving, the combined sensations choking her, as she shuddered weakly.

“My Lady Rook!” She was vaguely aware of the voice calling her name, the hand coming to rest lightly on her bowed back, but she had no attention to spare for anything but her own suffering, her stomach trying to turn itself inside out, while the pain threatened to crush her chest.

Emmrich came awake with a start, and it took him a moment to sort out his senses. The bed he lay in was comfortable but small, clearly not his own, the room was dimly lit, and it only took him a moment to remember where he was. His body still ached, the hot agony that had suffused his chest having settled to a more dull sensation, like the heat of banked coals, on the verge of bursting into flame once again. Then all at once, he became aware of the sounds coming from the floor by his bed, realising that it was this that had wakened him.

“Lilya?…” With difficulty, he pushed himself up on one elbow, turning until he could see her, a huddled, shuddering heap on the floor, a healer already kneeling at her side. That was all he managed to register before his own pain blazed to life again, swamping his mind, flattening him on the bed, an irresistible current that tore a faint cry from him.

“You, stay put!” Dierdre snapped, only sparing him a glance, her focus bent on Rook.

“Mama?” Manfred did not sleep, but all this had happened so quickly, he had barely been able to respond to any of it. Now Rook was on the floor, sobs interspersed with the unpleasant sounds of sickness, Emmrich was awake, but he was sobbing as well, and the healer seemed torn between the two. “I get help!” Manfred exclaimed. Dierdre barely heard him, even as he clattered from the room. It was daytime, and the people of the Necropolis were out and about, but Manfred could only think of two people who might be able to help. Unhesitating, he made for the Belfry.

“We have an unseen visitor.” Myrna’s melodious voice was murmuring to Vorgoth, as the frantic skeleton dashed in. Whatever response the large undead would have made remained unsaid as both turned to Manfred.

“Mama… Papa… HELP!” Manfred babbled, his words barely intelligible in his worry. Vorgoth said nothing, simply took off, moving like a gale, their robes fluttering with the wind of their passing.

“You’ve done well, Manfred.” Myrna told him, her own feet already in motion as well, and they ran for the infirmary together. If anyone thought anything of the sight of Lady Myrna, robes hiked up to her knees, sprinting through the halls of the Necropolis, perfectly in step with Emmrich Volkarin’s skeleton butler, they thought better of saying anything, and just got out of the way.

Through her haze of pain, Rook was suddenly aware of a coolness enveloping her, cradling her, supporting her, the agony of her ribs suddenly fading to almost nothing. Confused, she raised her head to find that it was Vorgoth who had her, their robe parted far enough that the mist that was always barely visible within was touching her directly. She blinked, her body growing still as the coolness spread further, and the sound of relief that escaped her was somewhere between a wail and a whimper, as she very slowly allowed herself to relax. Meanwhile, Myrna had moved to the bed, where Emmrich was still trying, without notable success to sit up. Her hand on his shoulder was gentle, but he had no strength to fight her, as she pinned him calmly, expert eyes running over the fresh blood that was staining his bandages.

“Be still.” She told him, her voice just as gentle, just as impossible to resist, and he slumped back with a faint moan, trying unsuccessfully to blink back helpless tears. “She is all right.” Myrna was focused on healing Emmrich, but she still watched as Vorgoth effortlessly lifted Rook from the floor, hesitated momentarily over returning her to her chair, and then simply conjured a different one, a winged armchair, already equipped with several pillows, which was bound to be much more comfortable than the one she had spent the night in. With surprising gentleness, the massive undead nestled Rook into the chair, arranging the pillows at her back, and securing the blanket around her again. Now that her nausea had passed, the pain in her chest numbed for the moment, she was becoming more alert, her gaze going immediately to Myrna, where she leaned over Emmrich’s bed.

“Emmrich….” Her voice was faint and husky, but the sound of it calmed Emmrich instantly. Vorgoth watched them for a moment, and then with a soft scraping on wood on stone, the chair Rook was sitting in was pushed closer to the bed, allowing her to reach, to take Emmrich’s hand in hers. Her fingers were icy against his, but he clutched her hand like a lifeline.

Chapter Text

“Professor, my Lady, your guests are here.” A young Watcher told them, stepping aside to allow Neve and Lucanis to pass through the doorway into the Volkarins’ private sitting room. Emmrich got to his feet, trying to pass his walking stick off as an affectation, despite how he clutched it, leaning far more heavily than he liked, as he moved to greet them. Rook remained seated, comfortably installed in one of the room’s stately armchairs, legs wrapped in a blanket, a nest of pillows supporting her, smiling as her gaze fell on the unmistakable shape of the swaddled babe in Lucanis’s arms.

“It’s so good to see you.” She told them fervently. “How is the little one?”

“He’s sleeping.” Neve replied in evident relief. Emmrich bent to kiss her dark-skinned cheek, turning to shake Lucanis’s hand awkwardly with the hand not gripping the walking stick. As he resumed his seat at Lilya’s side, she saw a significant glance pass between the Dellamorte’s, and she suppressed a sigh, waiting for the first of the inevitable questions. “How are you feeling, Rook?” Neve asked kindly, settling herself on a settee, facing her hosts.

“Sore.” Rook admitted, one hand moving to the now-visible swell of her belly. “My ribs are still healing, and with all the growing and changing….” She trailed off with a vague gesture.

“I can’t imagine.” Neve admitted in turn, frowning as she remembered the discomfort of her own recent pregnancy. “Why would you take on a pack of pride demons on your own?” She demanded in a rush.

“There weren’t supposed to be so many of them…. And I wasn’t alone.” Rook objected, with an affectionate glance at Emmrich.

“And what of you, Emmrich?” Lucanis’s accented voice broke in. “Healing all right?” His tone was light, but the gaze he leveled at Emmrich was heavy with genuine concern.

“The Necropolis has excellent healers.” Emmrich said, which, while true, did not necessarily answer the question. He was still clutching the head of his walking stick, as though uncertain what else to do with his hands, and that, more than anything else, told detective and assassin alike how uncomfortable he was with the questions.

“We know that, you’re one of them.” Neve snapped, her dark eyes flashing at the obvious evasion.

“He almost died.” Rook’s voice cut in, dropping the words like a stone into a reflecting pool. For a moment, she held her own lips, pinched between her teeth, breathing hard through her nose, striving for calm before speaking again. “I almost lost him.” Her voice was trembling, and Emmrich reached for one of her hands, squeezing it gently in reassurance.

“I didn’t die, though.” He pointed out. This was clearly a conversation they’d had before, the evident fact that both of them had survived the battle doing nothing to outweigh Rook’s distress at what might have happened. With a sigh, Emmrich returned his attention to Lucanis. “My wounds have mended, it will merely take more time for me to regain my strength.” This time the answer was satisfactory, and Lucanis grunted in acceptance, moving to sit alongside his wife. Reflexively, she turned to check on her son, before returning her attention to Emmrich and Rook.

“I hesitate to even bring this up….” She began, drawing a familiar notebook from some hidden pocket of her robes, and opening it to where a crisply folded letter was held safe between the pages. “But an old friend wants a meeting.” The way she said the word made it clear that this was someone they all had reason to be wary of. Carefully, she picked up the letter and extended it towards Rook, her hand steady, in spite of her obvious trepidation. Rook leaned gingerly forward to take the letter, unfolding it, and beginning to read aloud.

“Neve, I know that we have our differences, but I could use your help, and those of your associates, if you have the time.” The heaviness of the script seemed to convey the letter-writer’s reluctance with every stroke of the pen, and on the word ‘associates’ the pen had very nearly scratched through the paper. Whoever had written this clearly didn’t want to. “Although the templars are much improved under their new Knight-Commander, there are still certain elements who long for the old ways, and they have mostly been left unchecked. On my own, I have been unable to uncover what they’re up to, but I hoped you might be able to dig something up.” Rook’s eyes met Emmrich’s as she concluded. “It’s signed ‘Rana Savas’.” He nodded, having guessed as much.

“Of course we’ll help.” He told Neve simply, and Rook nodded in agreement.

“Where do we start?” She prompted, the four of them settling back into their customary Veilguard roles, with Neve laying out what was known, and the rest of the team collaboratively filling in a preliminary plan.

“When it comes to a fight, I need you both to hang well back.” Neve told them firmly. “We’ll bring in some Threads for frontline work if we need to.”

“We didn’t realise how bad things were here.” Lucanis admitted, frowning as he looked back and forth between the two of them. He didn’t say that they wouldn’t have come, had they known, but the unspoken truth hovered in the room between them.

“We’ll get it done.” Rook’s soft voice rang with the same calm confidence with which she had anchored the entire Veilguard in their fight against the Gods, years earlier. It never would have occurred to any member of her team to doubt her when she spoke thus.

The small party made their way through catacombs that were at once alien and familiar. They had never adventured through this particular stretch of the lower tunnels, and yet the Minrathous catacombs had a familiarity about them after all the time they had spent down here over the years. Rook had taken point out of habit, and no one thought to object until they came to a gap in the twisted walkway they had been following, the path ahead having heaved to a ragged edge, separated from where they stood by several yards of yawning emptiness. Without thinking, she gave a little hop-skip and flung herself confidently into the void. Emmrich gave a strangled cry of protest, reaching ineffectually towards her as her body hurtled gracefully through the air. He saw it as though in slow motion, and for an instant, he thought she might miss the edge completely, but then her fingers somehow found purchase, blood blooming bright against stone as she clung grimly, her body continuing its unstoppable swing to slam full-length against the jagged wall of torn stone. There was an instant of breathless horror, nobody seeming even to breathe as the trio stared at Rook’s dangling form, then her agonised gasp rent the air.

“Lilya!” Emmrich’s voice was shrill with panic, but she had no breath to answer, all her energy bent on holding onto the meagre purchase she had found, ignoring the searing pain in her hands as the sharp stone tore deep into her skin. There was a frantic scramble as the rest of the party hurried to the edge, realising quickly that her position made it impossible for anyone else to even attempt the jump without running the risk of dislodging her.

“I will go!” Only Lucanis and Emmrich could hear the sibilant whisper of Spite, who was eyeing the group of them with unconcealed fascination.

“Please….” Came Emmrich’s desperate response, as he turned to them.

“We can get to her.” Lucanis told him with certainty, and then he opened himself to his demon, his eyes taking on that eerie purple glow, his wings unfolding almost lazily. Effortlessly, he swooped across, finding much more secure holds than she had, as he climbed easily down to where Rook hung, wings still spread for balance. “It’s all right, Rook, we have you.” It was unclear whether Lucanis or Spite was speaking, but as his arms came about her, wings pumping as he plucked her from the edge, and flew her up to safety, she relaxed against him, showing an unquestioning trust that gave him pause. Emmrich made a move as if to attempt the leap himself, but Neve grabbed his arm, holding him back. A moment’s spellwork, and she conjured a broad ramp of ice to bridge the gap.

“Careful, it’s slippery.” She cautioned him unnecessarily, following close as he started the short climb. By the time they reached where Spite/Lucanis crouched, Rook still cradled securely in his arms, she had regained enough breath to be whimpering faintly, and Emmrich dropped to his knees beside them, reaching out to touch her cheek, which was visibly bruised and wet with tears.

“Where are you hurt, darling?” He asked, his voice still crackling with fear.

“I… everywhere.” She floundered, shivering a little in the demon assassin’s arms. Without a word, Spite/Lucanis shifted, sitting on the ground with his back to one of the corridor’s rough walls, adjusting Rook’s position so that she could lean against him, enabling Emmrich to begin to assess her condition. Now that she was out of immediate danger, the necromancer had lost some of his franticness, but his hands still shook as he took her hands in his, smoothing cool fingers over the cuts on her palms and fingers, mending those small hurts easily. He noticed how she tried to disguise a wince as he turned her left wrist, over in his hand. Sure enough, the weak joint was already starting to swell, the flesh noticeably heated to his touch.

“You’ve re-injured your wrist, dearest.” He told her unnecessarily, his voice growing steadier, and she said nothing, letting him carry on with his examination. Her ribs, which were still tender from her previous injury were showing signs of the impact as well. He carefully went over the rest of her, then brought his focus to her belly. He had heard her catch her breath in pain a few times that could not be directly attributable to his gentle manipulations of her aching body, so he was not surprised to feel clenched muscles shifting fitfully under his hands, and he began to massage the small swell very gently, helping her to begin to relax. “There now….” He murmured, his voice calm and soothing, now that she did not seem to be seriously injured. “You’re all right, my darling.” It was a strangely intimate scene, in spite of the fact that they had an audience. Spite had quietly retreated back inside Lucanis, but was still peeking out through his host’s eyes, and Neve and Lucanis both sat in near-reverent silence, only grateful for the small ways in which they had been able to help, unwilling to disturb the quiet communion taking place between Rook and Emmrich. Finally satisfied, Emmrich moved to sit close against Lucanis’s side, and without a word, the two men very carefully shifted Rook from one’s embrace to the other’s.

There was still no conversation as Neve and Lucanis began moving about, doing what was necessary to set up camp. Normally they would try to find a bit of a larger cavern to stop for the night, but it was clear they would be able to go no further until Rook had rested, so they made the best of this stretch of passageway, laying out their own bedrolls and bringing Emmrich blankets and pillows, doing what they could to allow him to be comfortable as he continued to hold Rook against his chest. She had drifted off to sleep, lulled by the strong beat of his heart against her back, her head tucked into the side of his neck, one cheek resting on his shoulder. The Dellamortes set about preparing a simple evening meal over Lucanis’s small camp stove, bringing Emmrich a bowl of rich stew when it was ready. Delicious though it was, he only picked at the fare, waiting until it had cooled a bit before gently waking Rook and feeding her small spoonfuls until she turned her face away. Sighing, he rocked her back to sleep before finishing his now cold dinner.

“There’s a bit more, if you’d like it.” It had been quiet for so long, but for the crackling of the small fire, that Emmrich suppressed a small start when Neve spoke up. He thought about it for a moment, then nodded, and she brought the cookpot over, tipping what remained into his bowl.

“Thank you.” He murmured, and she smiled.

“Sure.” This second helping was a bit warmer, having been kept near the fire, and he devoured it quickly, settling back with a weary smile.

“Try to get some rest.” Lucanis advised gently. Emmrich did not respond, but he had no intention of sleeping, unwilling to leave Rook unguarded when she was so vulnerable. He watched in silence and Lucanis and Neve both crawled into their bedrolls, scooting them closer together until Lucanis could drape one arm across his wife’s body, drawing a contented hum from her as they both settled down to sleep.

Rook woke in darkness, her body an absolute cacophony of conflicting pains. She didn’t need to look to know whose arms were wrapped around her so tenderly, she knew every bit of him, from the faint scent of smoke and sandalwood, the firm beat of his heart where she rested against his chest, his slender arms holding her close and cherished, familiar bands of grave gold that adorned his wrists warm where they rested against her body. She shifted, slightly, trying to raise her head, and froze trying to stifle a pained gasp. One of Emmrich’s hands moved immediately to cup her cheek, his touch very light against her bruised flesh.

“I’m… all right….” She said haltingly, but her voice was strained.

“What hurts, darling?” He asked softly. He didn’t wait for her answer, a quick gesture conjuring an orb of veilfire, allowing him to look her over. Even through her robes, it was quite evident there was something off about her left shoulder. “Shit….” He cursed, and she blinked, never having heard such language from him in all the years she had known him. Working as quickly as he dared, his every movement rife with both urgency and all the gentleness he could muster, he began to strip off her robes. Any movement of that arm caused some sign of intense pain, and by the time he had her clad only in her chemise, she was huddled against him, sobbing breathlessly. The commotion had awakened Lucanis, and he stirred up the embers of the fire, adding some fresh wood, before coming to check on them.

“What’s happened?” He asked quietly.

“Shit….” Emmrich muttered again as he inspected the injury. Lucanis rocked back on his heels in shock, making sure to keep himself from blocking any of the firelight as the necromancer worked. Aside from the now-obvious deformation of the joint itself, Emmrich could now see the pronounced swelling that ran partway down her arm, and ugly bruising that was spreading down her chest, her back, and her arm. “I think her shoulder is out of joint.”

“Mierda.” Lucanis whispered, his brow furrowing as he eyed Rook sympathetically. “We’ll have to reset it.” He pointed out. “And quickly, before it gets any worse.” Emmrich nodded anxiously. “Give me a moment, I’d best wake Neve before we start. Then I’ll help you.” Another nod, and Lucanis hurried to rouse Neve. She seemed on the verge of wakefulness already, and came to full alertness very quickly as he hurriedly told her what was going on and asked her to put the kettle on before returning to where Emmrich and Rook still half-reclined against the tunnel wall.

“Have you done this before?” Emmrich asked him, and Lucanis nodded, prompting a surge of relief in the other man. “All right, please, tell me what I must do.” Another nod, but as Lucanis moved to kneel next to them, he addressed Rook first.

“I’m sorry, querida, but this is going to hurt. More than it already does.” He told her heavily. She started to nod, but stiffened with another hiss of pain.

“Do what you must.” She grated out through clenched teeth.

“Emmrich, hold her steady.” Lucanis instructed, leaning over and taking hold of Rook’s elbow in one hand, her wrist in the other. She cried out, reflexively trying to pull away, but Emmrich held her firmly, as he had been told. Moving slowly but deliberately, Lucanis lifted her arm away from her body slightly, drawing another strangled cry of pain, which he ignored grimly. Shifting, guiding, he very carefully manipulated the bones into proper alignment, jaw set as Rook’s cries became louder, her body bucking and shuddering in protest. “Forgive me.” He breathed, as with a sudden sharp movement he flicked the displaced bone back into its socket. There was a distinct clunk which both Rook and Emmrich both felt more than heard, and then she sagged against him, sobbing again. Lucanis sighed in relief, meeting Emmrich’s gaze over her bent head.

“Thank you.” Emmrich whispered, his words scarcely audible, but the depth of emotion behind them clear on his face.

“She’ll have to be careful.” Lucanis advised. “Keep that arm still as much as possible.” Emmrich nodded his understanding. “I’ll make her a sling before we break camp.” Lucanis concluded, turning to join his wife by the fire. She already had a pot of tea steeping, but knew that he would prefer to make the coffee himself, and he flashed her a strained but grateful smile. Her answering smile was tired but tender, and it warmed him, as her smiles always did.

“We start back in the morning?” She asked, already knowing the answer. He nodded heavily, glancing back once more at Rook and Emmrich.

“She cannot go on like this.” He confirmed. She nodded in turn, once again wishing that they’d never gone to the Volkarins for help on this particular job.

By the time Neve and Lucanis woke, Emmrich had finally succumbed to exhaustion and fallen asleep, although his hold on his Rook had not slackened at all. Fresh tea and coffee were brewed in companionable silence, and when the tea was ready, Lucanis knelt to wake Emmrich with a steaming teacup in his hand, which he handed over immediately. They let Rook sleep a while longer, while Emmrich drank his tea, then a second cup was poured for her.

“Darling….” Emmrich murmured, nuzzling softly at the top of her head. She woke, sore and groggy, and he felt a stab of guilt at having disturbed her, but he knew that it was necessary. While the others finished their breakfasts, Lucanis returned to the edge of the gap that had caused them so much trouble, and the entire party clearly heard him curse.

“Guys, we have a problem.” He told them. Neve moved to join him, directing a beam of light from her staff into the darkness, and finding it reflected back almost immediately by an expanse of dark, rippling water.

“Oh no no no no….” She muttered, meeting her husband’s gaze, matching looks of horror in both pairs of dark eyes.

“What is it?” Rook’s voice was weak but steady.

“We cannot go back.” Lucanis replied.

“There must have been a shift of some kind in the night.” Neve put in, still staring at the sight before her, as if she could will the waters to recede. “The way we came is underwater.” Emmrich frowned, directing a worried glance at Rook.

“All right then, we go forward.” She said, with a fair approximation of her usual calm determination. Emmrich was forcibly reminded of the long-ago night when Weisshaupt Fortress fell to Ghilan’nain and the blight, and Rook hiding any uncertainty she might have had, being the rock upon which the rest of the team could lean. He swallowed hard, attempting to quell the intense anxiety that bubbled up at the memory.

“I’m going to scout what’s ahead.” Lucanis said, daggers appearing in his hands with two well-practiced flicks. Half-crouching in anticipation of trouble, he set off into the darkness. Neve began breaking camp, allowing the Volkarins to finish eating their breakfasts. Emmrich’s deep-set eyes were shadowed, almost bruised-looking, with exhaustion, but as ever, all of his concern was for her. By the time Lucanis returned, Neve was helping Emmrich get Rook back into her armour.

“I will take point.” Lucanis took charge, and nobody argued. “Both of you stay back.” He levelled a severe look at Rook and Emmrich, both of whom simply nodded. Emmrich helped Rook to her feet, noticing that she was favouring her right leg to a certain extent. He bent stiffly to pick up her staff, which she gripped tightly in her good hand, and then he took up his own, moving to her injured side, standing protectively close, while taking care not to jostle her injured arm or shoulder. True to his word, Lucanis had fashioned her a simple sling out of linen from their medical supplies, supporting her arm, and keeping it close against her body. As they started off, he laced a long arm around her waist, his fingers curling gently around her right hip in support, and she leaned into him slightly, even as the abused muscles of her left arm and shoulder screamed in protest.

They started off, but they had only gone a short distance, with Rook making some sign of discomfort every few steps when Neve suddenly dropped back to walk with them. She was frowning in worry, and Rook attempted to smile reassuringly.

“Rook, sweetie, I think I can help with the pain.” She offered, and Rook gave a tense nod. The three of them stopped walking, and up ahead, Lucanis also paused, looking back to see what was going on. Neve brought her hands to Rook’s shoulder, stopping just short of touching the swollen flesh, noting as she did so the way Rook braced herself for the pain she expected to follow. With only slight hand movements, Neve set to work, directing very carefully controlled magic into the joint. Emmrich, deeply aware that Neve was not any kind of healer, watched closely, and almost immediately came to understand what it was she was attempting. With all of her usual precision, she was using ice magic to freeze the injured joint, seeking to numb it to some extent. At first, Rook only felt the cold, and when she shivered, Emmrich drew her closer. That was when she realised that the pain was easing, allowing her to lean against him with only a dull ache, and she heaved a sigh of relief. “I’m afraid it will only last an hour or two.” Neve told her apologetically, but a faintly satisfied smile had brought a curve to her dark lips. “We don’t want to risk causing further damage.”

It was a far from uneventful trip back to the surface. They were forced to defend themselves more often than Emmrich had hoped, and many were the times that he was so focused on defending Rook, that he nearly left himself open to harm, but the gap was always bridged by one of his companions, Neve, Lucanis, or even Rook herself, lunging in to ward off an attacker. On one such occasion, Rook found herself fighting back to back with Lucanis, their movements so tightly synchronised as they fought that Emmrich had a flash of memory to a long-ago dance lesson in the dining hall of the Lighthouse, unearthly music seeming to come out of nowhere, as the Crow taught her how to fight in close quarters. When it was over, she staggered, her staff long since discarded in favour of orb and dagger, and Lucanis spun, as aware of her faltering as he had been of her every move in battle. She sagged against him, and he just held her for a moment, allowing her to catch her breath before gently guiding her back to Emmrich.

“Thank you!” Emmrich mouthed over her bent head as he drew her in, and she sagged against him with a sigh. Neve came over with Rook’s staff in hand, standing by patiently until she was ready to take it. And they started off again, the Volkarins moving like some strange six-legged creature, each leaning on a staff in one hand, and each other on the other. Their progress was slow, but it did give Lucanis the chance to continue scouting, sometimes enabling him to take out threats long before the rest of the party even reached them.

Rook tried to conceal the relief she felt as they finally found themselves in familiar tunnels. From there, it seemed a matter of minutes until they reached the lower door into the Docktown pawn shop. As they reached safety, the determination that had been carrying her crumbled, the hand holding her staff shaking visibly as she turned to Emmrich. He immediately wrapped both arms around her, supporting her as she collapsed against his chest, shuddering.

“It’s all right, darling.” He murmured against her hair. “I’ve got you. It’s over. You did well.” Neve barely spared them a glance, heading for the stairs, prosthetic clanking rapidly on the stone as she broke into a half-run. A moment later, Lucanis heard her raised voice above.

“We need a healer down here, NOW!” Hurried footsteps followed, as Neve barreled back down, closely followed by Quillon, the Viper, and Maevaris Tilani herself.

“What happened down there?” The Viper demanded, his usual unflappable calm completely absent, as the other two mages moved in on Rook and Emmrich.

“Can we get her upstairs?” Maevaris asked Emmrich, and he nodded a bit dubiously. She moved to help him in supporting Rook as they started off, but it quickly became clear that Emmrich himself was not faring much better. “Ashur!” Maevaris called out, interrupting the ongoing conversation between the Viper and Neve, and jerking her head urgently towards Emmrich. “It’s all right, Professor, I’ve got her. Let us help you.” Her tone was gentle but firm, the voice of a woman who was accustomed to being obeyed without question. The Viper moved to help Emmrich as Maevaris took Rook’s full weight with apparent ease. The two Shadow Dragon leaders’ eyes met, and Maevaris sighed, shaking her head, having realised that the effort of climbing the stairs was simply not in either of the Volkarins at the moment. She guided Rook to sit on a neatly stacked heap of supply sacks, taking the younger woman’s staff from her unresisting hand and laying it aside, as she took a moment to assess what Quillon was working on, and then focused her own considerable healing strength into aiding him. Neve was already halfway up the stairs again, and within a few minutes, she was back with more Shadows, bringing with them a cot, blankets, and a large folding screen which they used to create a private area in the otherwise open storeroom. Emmrich was beyond exhaustion by this point, but he sat beside Rook, holding her as the healers worked.

When they had done all they could for the moment, Rook was sleeping soundly, and they helped Emmrich to reposition, allowing Rook to lay on the cot, with her torso still supported against Emmrich’s body, that position allowing her to breathe more easily with her still-injured ribs than lying full-length would. For his own part, Emmrich propped himself up with a large rack of barrels at his back, his long body curling defensively over her as he finally allowed himself to relax. Lucanis and Neve had gone upstairs, once Rook was being taken care of, and all the other Shadows had begun to avoid the area, allowing the Nevarrans to get what rest they could, undisturbed.

Chapter Text

The next time Emmrich woke, it was to the sound of shouts coming from the catacombs. It was never truly quiet in the tunnels, the sounds of water, flowing, dripping, lapping; distant noise of the docks filtering through, occasionally punctuated by clashes of combat, or cries of people or the darker things that lived in the depths, but this was different, more immediate, and he heard the rapid response from above in the safe house. Shadow Dragons grabbing weapons and rushing downstairs to defend their hideout. Emmrich pressed a soft kiss to Rook’s temple and very carefully disentangled himself from her, taking a moment to prop her sleeping form as securely as he could, then bending with a faint groan to take up his staff.

The battle was brief but intense, the attackers coming in a few fierce waves that they evidently had hoped would overwhelm resistance, but falling back in the face of the Shadows’ well-organised defense. Upon seeing Emmrich enter the fray, Neve and the Viper both immediately moved to shield him, taking up positions to either side and just a bit ahead of the older mage, not to obstruct his own spells, but to ensure that no one was able to close in on him. As the last of the assailants retreated, running footsteps and shouts receding down the tunnel, several of the Shadows pursuing for a short distance, Emmrich wilted, gripping his staff with trembling hands, his vision darkening and flickering ominously. After a moment, he became aware that Neve was supporting him as best she could, her smaller body pressing him against the wall of the tunnel just outside the safe house door, and she was speaking to him, her voice low and intense.

“Stay with me, Emmrich. If you pass out, you’ll probably take me down with you.” She muttered, drawing a faint chuckle from him, as he tried to straighten, but between the aching of his body, and a bone-deep weariness that seemed determined to bring him to his knees, he found he could not. Neve heaved a sigh of relief, noting the attempt. “There you are….” She murmured, her tone light, but concern shining in her dark eyes.

“I’ve got him.” Tarquin hurried over, easily taking Emmrich’s weight, allowing Neve to step back.

“Let’s get him back to Rook.” She said, and the templar nodded, half-carrying Emmrich as they stepped back into the cellar of the safe house and crossed the room to where a very groggy Rook was just waking.

“What’s happened?” She asked weakly, sitting up fully, with a hiss of pain as Tarquin lowered Emmrich onto the cot beside her.

“It’s all right, darling, you’re safe.” Emmrich said breathlessly, and she frowned, eyeing him in concern. She turned to Tarquin and Neve, her gaze sharpening as she realised just how much activity was still going on beyond the partition.

“An attack from the catacombs.” Neve told her heavily. Rook’s frown deepened as she returned her regard to Emmrich.

“Are you hurt?” She demanded anxiously, and he took her good hand in his, bringing it to his lips.

“Only my pride, darling.” He replied, breath coming more easily now, as his heart ceased its racing. Rook’s eyes darted back to Neve for a moment.

“I’m fine.” Neve assured her. “I’m more worried about you.”

“I’m no worse off than I was.” Rook said, mystified.

“But no better.” Neve countered. “You need to rest, and it’s starting to look like this won’t be the place for it.”

“There’s no reason we can’t return home to the Necropolis.” Emmrich began.

“Weren’t you at home at the Necropolis when you almost died a month ago?” Lucanis put in, slipping into the screened-off area to join them. Emmrich shot him a reproachful look, but Rook nodded emphatically.

“What about the Lighthouse?” She suggested suddenly. Everyone stared at her for a moment.

“Safest place I know of.” Neve said thoughtfully, beginning to smile.

“We’d better stay with you.” Lucanis said flatly. “I need to make sure that someone competent is keeping you both fed.” Rook gave him a smile of gratitude, which he returned. “Let us take care of you for a change.” She turned to Emmrich, who was also smiling softly as he gazed at her. Seemingly satisfied, she leaned into him, and he put his arms around her. Neve and Lucanis quietly left them to it, heading upstairs to talk with Tarquin, the Viper, and Elek, who appeared to have just arrived. It didn’t take long for them to make arrangements for the move back to the Lighthouse, and pack their own things. After making sure that someone was keeping an eye on Rook and Emmrich, they stepped through the Eluvian and began to prepare their old base for company.

It was Rook who awoke first this time, and she didn’t move immediately, not even opening her eyes, as she took stock of her body. All of the pains were still there, but less urgent after her rest; likewise, her weariness remained, she was aware of a slight dizziness, even at rest, but there was also a sense of peace as she felt Emmrich’s sleeping weight against her, their bodies leant against each other, his arms still enfolding her. A faint smile curved her white lips, as she opened her eyes, blinking at the light.

“Good morning.” A lightly amused voice greeted, and she looked up, surprised to find Magister Tilani standing over them.

“Guard duty?” She asked with an ironic lift of an eyebrow, her voice soft so as not to disturb Emmrich, and Maevaris smiled in return, nodding.

“Something like that.” She agreed with a half shrug. “Neve and Lucanis are making sure the Lighthouse is ready for you, but we didn’t want to leave you two unguarded.”

“All right, but surely you all could have found someone other than a Magister for the job?” Rook smirked. Maevaris shrugged again, her smile widening, warming, a bit.

“You don’t think you warrant a Magister keeping you safe?” She asked, her words almost a challenge. “Because from what I’ve seen, it seems to be an inordinately difficult task.” Rook gave a weak chuckle at that, stiffening as her breath caught on the pain in her chest. “Easy….” Maevaris murmured, moving to kneel next to the cot, laying a gentle hand on Rook’s throbbing ribs. This was not the first time Rook had been a recipient of the Magister’s expert healing, and she never failed to be impressed at the subtlety with which the older woman wove magic, a precise lattice of soothing warmth seeming to sink into her body, and some of the tension in her aching body eased again. “And then there’s that.” Mae murmured, her tone lightening again. “Most of the Shadows we typically assign to guard duty are not healers.” Rook nodded, conceding the point.

“Thank you.” She breathed in relief, and Mae’s answering smile was satisfied. “How’s Emmrich doing?” She asked, relaxing in his arms once again, nestling against his chest. Maevaris knew that Emmrich needed only rest to finish recovering from his wounds, dire though they had been at the time, but she also knew that Rook would not be satisfied unless she checked. She took a moment, one hand hovering just short of touching his bent head, eyes closed, as her magic surveyed his body. As she had expected she found the signs of his recent and severe injuries, but they had healed well, and even the scars were fading. She also found signs of his advancing age having its natural effects on his body, the normal aches of joints grown more fragile through the passage of years. A flicker of sympathy curved her lips into a soft smile, as she continued her assessment. Colouring everything else she was able to observe was an unutterable weariness, which while she had anticipated it, the depth of it took her aback. She opened her eyes, frowning slightly, to find him looking into her eyes, his exhaustion evident in his dull gaze.

“Magister Tilani.” He breathed, seeming startled at the weakness of his own voice.

“Maevaris.” She corrected firmly, and he nodded solemnly in response.

“How am I doing?” He asked, trying for a light tone that simply did not read in his current condition.

“Your wounds have healed well.” She replied. “Your Necropolis healers are clearly skilled, but you haven’t given yourself enough time to rest and regain your strength, and you must do that, Emmrich.” She concluded forcefully.

“Yes Mag-… Maevaris.” He corrected himself hastily, and she smiled, nodding approvingly.

“You both need to be well for the little one.” She concluded, her voice softening as she turned back to Rook. “Oh, and Emmrich?” She said casually, as Neve and Lucanis re-entered the screened-off space, leading Emmrich to suspect she had been waiting for them, to be sure to have witnesses. “No more healing.” Her tone was still casual, but her blue-grey eyes bored into his as she spoke, leaving him in no doubt of her seriousness. “You know we’re only an Eluvian step away, so if more healing is necessary, you send for one of us.” He nodded heavily, and she smiled in approval.

The move to the Lighthouse was accomplished with relative ease. Several Shadows were happy to help, so transporting the Volkarins and the few belongings they had brought with them to Minrathous was a simple matter. Arrangements were made to send for Manfred to come from the Necropolis the following day with some more of their things. Rook had flatly refused to be carried, insisting upon walking through the Eluvian under her own power, good hand clutching her staff, both Lucanis and Emmrich hovering anxiously, lest she should require further assistance. By the time they had climbed the two flights of stairs from the Eluvian room to the library’s lower balcony, where both of their former rooms had been, she was out of breath, her steps weaving a little, and Emmrich stepped close, putting a supporting arm around her waist, and she let herself just lean into him for a moment. They had come to a stop in front of the adjacent corridors which led to both the meditation chamber which had become hers, and the laboratory that had been his domain, both hesitating, neither certain which room they should be going to, now that they would be going together.

“I want you to feel at home.” He told her softly, turning her more towards her own room, and she flashed him a grateful smile. Stepping into the space that had once been her sanctuary, some of the tension went out of her body. She staggered, and Emmrich realised, all at once, just how close she was to collapse. The chaise longue she had used in place of a bed had already been prepared with pillows and blankets, and he quickly helped her around to it, easing her down, taking her staff, and setting it aside. He realised, as he watched her settle in, that the structure of the chaise itself would actually be helpful, given her injury. The raised arm at one end allowing her to lean against it and be supported with her torso in a mostly upright position, which would aid her breathing as she continued to heal.

He paused for a moment, struck anew by her beauty. The blue light filtering through the aquarium wall played across her face, making her pale skin luminous, although the bruises still showed dark and angry. Her green eyes were following his every move, and in spite of her fatigue, they were shining with her love for him. Scooting over on the broad seat, she patted the cushion beside her, and he smiled moving to sit beside her, putting his arm around her. She leaned into him, relaxing fully. Without a word, he pulled one of the blankets up over them, gently drawing her head down onto his shoulder, his long fingers playing through her hair, massaging her scalp with a delicate touch.

That first night at the Lighthouse, Lucanis and Neve made a conscious decision to let Rook and Emmrich sleep, rather than waking them for dinner. Since a large part of the reason for relocating had been to allow the couple the chance to rest and heal, it seemed wrong to wake them, when they were having some of the most restful sleep they’d managed in over a week. Instead, Lucanis had made Neve's favourite pasta dish, and they’d enjoyed a quiet meal in both sitting at the same corner of the large dining table.

“I suppose we’ll have to go back to Treviso and collect Kaz.” Neve said, breaking the companionable silence for the first time since the meal started. Lucanis gave a small smile, nodding.

“In the morning.” He replied, raising his wine glass to her. She smiled back, picking up her own glass and clinking it against his as though to seal the agreement.

“In the morning.” She echoed. They both drank.

Chapter Text

The next morning was a flurry of activity. First, Manfred arrived from the Necropolis, triumphantly carrying a stack of boxes containing books, and clothing, and magical paraphernalia. Emmrich left Rook at the breakfast table, going to direct the placement of the boxes in his laboratory, not wishing to fully colonise Rook’s room with his own things. Not wasting any time, he began directing Manfred through setting up his space again, but the skeleton seemed preoccupied, even as he worked.

“Mama… hurt.” He said at length. Emmrich sighed.

“Yes, Manfred, Mama got hurt.” He confirmed heavily. Manfred was quiet for a moment, seemingly considering this information as he shelved a box full of books.

“Papa… not hurt.” Emmrich felt this one like a blow. He sighed again.

“No, Manfred, I’m fine.” He said softly. Manfred gave a happy hiss, and Emmrich realised belatedly that, far from an accusation, Manfred was seeking reassurance. “Come.” He said with sudden decision. “Let us go and see how Mama is doing with her breakfast.” Manfred hissed eagerly, and Emmrich found himself smiling as the excited skeleton led the way from the room.

Lucanis had finished eating, but stayed at the table with Rook, sipping his coffee, after Neve had drifted away to her study. Rook was still picking at her bowl of porridge, bright with fresh fruit, and just listening as Lucanis wove her a lighthearted tale about his childhood, growing up with Illario. Emmrich returned to his chair, picked up his teacup, and found that it had gone cold. Lucanis, still in mid-story, was already picking up the teapot from the hearth to offer him a warm-up, and the two men exchanged a smile. Emmrich looked at Rook’s bowl, seeing how little she had actually managed to eat and sighed, sipping his tea. After a moment’s thought, he reached across the table, taking a few shelled nuts from a bowl opposite him and offering them to her.

“Try a couple of these.” He suggested gently, taking the bowl of now-cold porridge. She took the nuts, eyeing them doubtfully for a moment before taking an experimental nibble from a cashew. Seemingly encouraged by her body’s lack of rejection, she finished the small nut and tried another. When she had finished the ones in her hand, he nudged the rest of the bowl towards her and she reached over to take another small handful. She offered a tentative smile, which he returned with evident relief. Throughout this, Manfred had stayed silent, although his wiggling had grown more pronounced, as he watched his parents finish their meal.

“Mama!” He burst out finally, and Rook jumped, having barely registered his presence.

“Manfred!” She replied, with every appearance of equal delight. She opened her arms, and Manfred rushed into her embrace, hissing contentedly.

“Mama hurt.” He said very seriously, and she sighed, nodding, trying to ignore the twinge from her injured shoulder at the simple movement of hugging the skeleton.

“I believe you also have a son to collect today?” Emmrich turned back to Lucanis, still smiling a bit. Lucanis smirked in return, nodding.

“I should go see if Neve’s ready.” He said thoughtfully.

“I suspect Neve has been ready since she left the dining table.” Emmrich snorted, drawing Rook’s gaze, her eyebrows raised in question.

“I wonder if one of us should stay…” Lucanis appeared to be thinking out loud.

“I don’t think we need a guardian at the Lighthouse.” Rook put in, a bit tartly. “We’ll be fine for a few hours.” Lucanis and Emmrich exchanged a rueful look, and then Lucanis sighed heavily.

“I’m sure you’re right.” He didn’t sound convinced. Now that Rook had eaten, she seemed to have a bit more energy, so she linked her good arm in Emmrich’s, and they accompanied Lucanis to Neve’s study, Manfred trailing behind.

“Oh, are you finally ready?” Neve asked teasingly as her husband came into her tiny room. She blinked in surprise as she saw the others entering behind him.

“Forgive me for stealing your husband for a while.” Rook said with a fair approximation of her usual snide humour, and Neve chuckled.

“Glad he was able to make himself useful.” Neve flashed Lucanis a mischievous grin, which he returned, perfectly willing to take her teasing, as long as she and Rook seemed happy.

“Give my love to Caterina and Teia.” Rook told him, blowing a kiss.

“Do you need anything, while we’re in town?” Neve asked, and the Volkarins exchanged a glance.

“If you could find some fresh turmeric, I’d appreciate it.” Emmrich said.

“I’ll add it to the spice list.” Lucanis assured him. “Anything else?” Rook shook her head, and the Dellamortes took their leave.

“Well then, what shall we do today, darling?” Emmrich asked, as they followed Neve and Lucanis as far as the library. Rook nodded towards the settee that was one of the seats pulled up around the round table where the Veilguard had held their many strategising meetings, years ago. They settled down, side by side, and she leaned into him contentedly. “Manfred, would you please return to the kitchen and clean up the breakfast things for us?” Emmrich requested, and thrilled as always, Manfred hurried off to do his important job. Rook giggled faintly, grimacing a bit as her ribs protested. Emmrich said nothing further, just leaned in to kiss her very softly. She melted against him, returning the kiss, and he chuckled against her lips.

“Perhaps we should have gone all the way upstairs….” Rook mumbled, but did not resist, as he deepened their kiss. Their kissing was unhurried, neither of them had fully regained their strength, and Emmrich did not wish to do anything that might aggravate Rook’s still-tender ribs. He firmly suppressed his own desire, focusing instead on cherishing her warmth, her closeness, long-fingered hands exploring her body through the soft wool dress she wore, mapping the changes that her injuries and her pregnancy had wrought.

She was still thinner than he liked, her usual slender grace having tipped over into an outright fragility that made his heart ache. But as his mouth drifted away from hers, lips moving instead over the delicate line of her jaw, and down her neck, as her head fell back, a shivering sigh of pleasure escaping her, her evident enjoyment of his attentions urging him on, he felt warmed by the complete trust she placed in him, determined to be deserving of that trust. Very gently, he palmed her breasts through her gown, teasing her a little, smiling in satisfaction as her nipples tightened to hard points of urgency, evident even through her bodice, and she moaned. He leaned in to capture the sound with his lips. He could see tension starting to build in her, and although it was from pleasure, he knew that if it continued, he was going to hurt her.

“Relax, my darling.” His voice was a purr as he moved to kiss the lobe of her right ear. “It’s all right.” She took a couple of slow breaths, and he watched approvingly as she relaxed again. “Good girl.” His hands slid further down her body, passing carefully over the layered contusions at the base of her ribcage, and coming to rest on the small bump where she carried their growing child. He stroked her belly tenderly, exploring the intriguing mix of hard and soft under his long fingers. “So beautiful…” His voice was worshipful, growing husky with emotion, and he swallowed before going on. “You’re so beautiful, my darling….” He moved off the couch, kneeling at her feet and bending to press his lips to her tummy. His hands moved again, even as he continued lavishing kisses on her midsection, his usual eloquence giving way to him murmuring “beautiful… beautiful….” over and over again. Now he was cradling the shapely curve of her hips, and she rocked eagerly in his hands. “Relax….” His voice was mostly just vibration against her stomach now, but she obeyed without thought, and he smiled.

He was stroking her outer thighs firmly, and they parted instinctively for him. One hand stayed where it was, the other slid under her skirt, gently making its way up her inner thigh, stopping just short of her cleft. He could feel her heat, and his smile grew. He very delicately ran the tip of his index finger over her outer folds, and her answering moan was music. She was so wet, her slit weeping in want of his touch, but he maintained his control, giving her another teasing stroke, her moan drawing out to a whimper. Very slowly, he began to press deeper, still only using a single finger, watching her intently, savouring the rapt look on her expressive face as he pleasured her. Every time he heard her breath catch, or felt her hips begin to move, he paused, repeating the same admonishment to relax, his free arm moving across her hips, gently pinning her in place, and then he returned to delving her sex.

Between the exquisite sensations he was provoking in her body, and his adamant insistence that she was not to participate in any way, Rook felt herself drifting blissfully in a sea of pleasure, and Emmrich smiled, able to pinpoint the exact moment when she surrendered fully to his ministrations. Very slowly, he slid a second finger inside her, and her answering moan was very soft, but he could feel her inner muscles twitching in reaction, the heat of her flowing over his knuckles as he slowly withdrew, then thrust again. Slowly, patiently, he started to guide her towards completion. His fingers continued their thrusting, his thumb moving to her clit, rubbing her sensitive bud gently at first, but his touch growing firmer as her arousal continued to mount. With Rook in this limp, euphoric state, Emmrich lacked many of the cues he usually followed to gauge her progress, so it actually took him by surprise when her muscles clamped down on him, fresh sweetness gushing from her depths.

“That’s my girl….” He praised, gently guiding her through her climax. “That’s my good girl.” She gave a shaky moan, and he smiled in satisfaction.

By the time Lucanis and Neve returned to the Lighthouse with their son, Manfred had finished cleaning up the kitchen and brought tea to Rook and Emmrich, who were still ensconced on the settee in the library, Rook apparently drowsing gently while Emmrich read aloud to her from a volume of Nevarran folktales. As Lucanis led the way upstairs from the Eluvian, the baby was keeping up a steady stream of wordless babble, to which is father listened attentively, interjecting occasionally, as if they were having a conversation. Emmrich smiled, carefully placing a leather bookmark between the pages, and setting the book aside.

“Good afternoon, young Cassius.” He said solemnly, and Caz fell silent, staring at him wide-eyed. “I think you’ve grown in the week we’ve been gone.” Emmrich went on in the same serious tone. “I suppose that means your great-grandmother fed you well.” Neve chuckled, moving to pluck her son out of Lucanis’s arms and stepping over to deposit him in Emmrich’s. Emmrich looked momentarily startled. Caz was still staring. Rook began to giggle, gritting her teeth a little at the resulting sensation in her abused ribs, but seemingly unable to stop. Emmrich frowned at her, unsure whether he should be concerned or exasperated, which only made her laugh harder. Lucanis, meanwhile, came up behind her, bending to softly rub her back.

“Breathe, Rook.” He murmured, and after a moment’s focus, she grew still. Rook and Emmrich both shot him grateful looks, and Neve smiled, watching them.

“Perhaps you should introduce yourself, Uncle Emmrich.” She told him pointedly, and Emmrich blinked in surprise.

“Uncle?” He echoed faintly.

“Of course. How else are we to explain your relation to Auntie Rook?” Neve and Rook exchanged a grin.

“You’re going to have to get used to holding babies, you know.” Rook pointed out, and he inclined his head to concede the point.

“How is your grandmother?” Rook turned back to Lucanis, as Emmrich continued his conversation with the baby in his arms. Lucanis smiled ruefully.

“Annoyed that I let you get hurt.” He told her in a low voice. “And that we didn’t bring you with us so she could fuss over you.”

“Teia said she and Viago would be by to visit in a few days.” Neve added, and Rook grinned.

“It’ll be just like old times, gathering our allies at the kitchen table.” Neve and Lucanis exchanged a look, and Neve raised her eyebrows significantly.

“I think you might be onto something, Rook.” Lucanis grinned, turning back to her. “I’m going to need to hit the market again.”

Chapter Text

A light tap on the open door of the meditation room brought Rook’s head up, and her eyes widened as she saw who her visitor was.

“Archon Pavus!” She exclaimed, trying to disentangle her feet from the ever-present blanket, so that she could stand and greet him properly, but he rushed forward, taking both of her hands in his, and sinking to one knee at her feet.

“Now now, my dear, there’s no need for that!” He scolded, dark eyes dancing playfully, but his tone gentle. “Mae will have my head if I allow you to exert yourself unnecessarily.” She chuckled faintly, wincing at a twinge from her still healing ribs. Dorian eyed her sympathetically, taking in the binding on her left arm and shoulder, the fading bruises on her face, and the increasingly pronounced swell of her belly. “Now, tell me truly, how are you feeling?” He asked seriously.

“A bit like someone took me apart and then couldn’t figure out how to put me back together again.” She replied lightly, and he gave an appreciative laugh at the turn of phrase.

“Goodness, that does sound uncomfortable!” He exclaimed with mock sincerity, drawing another pained giggle, and he grew serious again as she stiffened in renewed discomfort. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t make you laugh.” He said penitently. She mustered a smile that she clearly intended to be reassuring.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, and he widened his eyes dramatically at the question.

“Mae and Ashur told me about what happened. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” Her smile turned grim.

“I don’t have much choice. I have to be all right.” She told him, and he frowned, giving her hands, which he still held, a light squeeze.

“You don’t have to carry the world on your shoulders anymore, Rook.” He reminded her. “You’re allowed to just take care of yourself and your family now.” This last part was said with a significant glance at her belly, and she flushed, uncertain how to take this unaccustomed seriousness from him. Usually Dorian didn’t appear to take anything seriously, but this side of him was new to her. It reminded her of the fact that he had once been one of Inquisitor Lavellan’s closest friends and confidantes. He hadn’t just made a lucky guess, he knew that even now, years after defeating the last of the Evanuris, it was still difficult for Rook not to think of herself as the leader of the Veilguard, the one on whom everyone else was depending, the one who had to keep up the fight, no matter what, even to, and beyond, the point of her own body giving out.

All at once, she realised that she was crying, her ribs aching fiercely with every sob and hiccoughing breath. Dorian had moved to perch on the arm of her chair, wrapping his arms around her in a warm hug, and she had turned gratefully into him, her tears soaking his robes as she leaned. She drew a deep, shuddering breath, whimpering in pain as she did so, forcing herself to raise her head, and blinking tearfully up at him.

“Here now, what’s all this then?” His voice was teasing once more, but there was undeniable tenderness in his dark eyes.

“I’m all right.” She told him faintly, and he shook his head, cupping her cheek in one hand.

“Has anybody ever told you that you’re a terrible liar?” He asked lightly, drawing yet another strained giggle.

“Lilya?” She straightened up sharply, trying to suppress a gasp of pain, at Emmrich’s voice from the door. Dorian chucked her very gently under the chin before moving from the arm of her chair to take a seat of his own across from her. Emmrich came fully into the room, frowning as he took in her tear streaked face, her brow furrowed with pain.

“I’m all right.” She repeated, no more convincingly, and he shot a sharp look at Dorian, who raised his hands mock defensively.

“I simply reminded her that she no longer needs to carry the weight of all Thedas on her shoulders.” He said mildly, and Emmrich sighed, moving to take Dorian’s former place, perched on the arm of Rook’s chair.

“He’s right.” He murmured, wrapping his arms around her in turn. “The world can take care of itself, darling.” She pressed her face into his shirt, and he felt the wetness of the lingering tears on her cheeks, and his heart ached for her. She was the strongest person he had ever known. Even before he had begun to fall in love with her, he had admired how her strength was tempered with an equally fierce kindness, her leadership of the Veilguard somehow balancing her ironclad sense of what must be done with a loving, nurturing nature that had held the team together through nearly all of their trials. He also knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that she viewed any faltering on her part as an abject failure, all the while never hesitating to forgive such supposed failures in those around her.

“I know.” She whispered, but even as she agreed with him, some part of her seemed to reject the reassurance. Emmrich frowned deeply, glancing up to find that Dorian was still watching, a matching frown belying his relaxed posture. It was not a reassuring sight.

“Talk to me, dearest.” Emmrich’s voice was low and soothing, but there was something implacable in it, something that demanded answer.

“I’m afraid…” She began shakily, her voice muffled in his shirt. “I know how to keep everyone else safe… But what if… what if I can’t keep myself safe?” His instinct was to immediately reassure her, to remind her of how strong she was, and to tell her that he would keep her safe no matter what, but something told him to remain silent, to wait her out, in the hopes of getting to the root of her uncertainty. “What if it happens again?” He froze, the hand that had been rubbing soothing circles on her back stilling. Very slowly, he drew back, staring at her in confusion, and she found that she could not meet his gaze, closing her eyes, her entire body bowing under the weight of a pain he did not yet understand.

“What happens again, Lilya?” He asked, trying to force down the dread that was rising up inside him. “What happened to you?”

She was back in the fade prison, the merciless grey of the place dulling everything except her pain. She didn’t have to look up to know that the statue that loomed over her, its stone gaze accusing, was once again Emmrich. She also knew that she was bleeding badly, the wet stickiness of it pooling under her belly and thighs, but there was nothing she could do except to curl her body stiffly, in the deep chill of the fade, around the breathtaking pain in her abdomen. She had no idea how long she lay there, praying that she would lose consciousness. But she knew that the only one left to pray to was Elgarnan, and that the only mercy she might expect from him was death.

Emmrich recognised almost immediately that she had been drawn into a waking nightmare, her eyes glazing, her body going rigid in his arms. He very gently eased her back against her pillows, moving to take a chair beside her, keeping hold of her good hand as he prepared to follow her into the fade.

“She’s dreaming.” He told Dorian tersely. “I need to go after her.” Dorian nodded.

“Can I help?” He asked.

“Follow me if you can.” Emmrich said simply, closing his eyes.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it was not to find her once again in the fade prison, his own statue towering in stone judgment over her, but she was not weeping. She was bleeding. He thought back to when she had returned from the fade in truth. She had been horribly weak, and her armour had been soaked and stained with blood. He had checked her thoroughly, finding no wounds, no trace of injury, and he had concluded that all that blood was not hers, that it had all been left over from the countless battles they had fought leading up to the death of Ghilan’nain. Now, standing over her in the fade, watching as the fresh blood pooled around her, forming a bright new layer over the older blood that had cooled and dried, he realised that she must have lain here for days, cold, and alone, and bleeding, as she miscarried the child they hadn’t even known she was carrying.

“Lilya…” His voice was broken, as he knelt beside her, very gently lifting her out of the pool of blood and cradling her against him. As she felt his strong arms enfold her, his warmth surrounding her, even in the throes of remembered agony, she began to cry, the tears coming like a cloudburst, the force of the sudden storm rocking her frail form as she clung to him.

Dorian was not as adept at fadewalking as Emmrich, so it had taken him longer to find them, but he faded in just as Rook’s wailing sobs began to rise. He took it all in with a glance, the cold grey stone, the vaguely threatening grasping hands at the edge of a sheer drop into nothingness, the statue, and Rook, anguish and pain in every line of her, howling her loss in Emmrich’s loving arms. And the blood. So much blood. In that same instant, he knew that there was nothing he could do here, no way he could help. With a heavy sigh, he returned to wakefulness, his gaze lingering for a moment on Rook’s still form, for the first time truly understanding all she had sacrificed to save the world from the Evanuris. He left the room, closing the door softly behind him, exiting the Lighthouse tower, and crossing the courtyard to the low building that housed the kitchen and dining area. Lucanis was not in evidence, so he knocked lightly on the pantry door.

“Come in.” Lucanis called from within. Dorian opened the door, entering the dim space diffidently, and Lucanis eyed him searchingly for a moment before speaking. “How is she?” As he asked, the haunted look in the Archon’s eyes increased. Dorian shook his head; it was not his story to tell, and part of him believed that he shouldn’t even have witnessed what he had.

“Take care of her.” Was all he could bring himself to say. “Take care of both of them.” Lucanis nodded, as startled as Rook had been by the Archon’s uncharacteristic seriousness. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should like to kiss your pretty wife before I go.” And just like that, the moment passed, and Dorian was all expansive humour and feigned lechery again.

“She should be in her study.” Lucanis told him with a smirk. “She’ll probably make you hold the baby too.” He added in mock warning. He noted the shadow that flickered briefly in Dorian’s eyes, but he didn’t comment on it, as the mage took his leave.

Rook awoke to find Emmrich seated next to her now, one of her hands tiny in his warm grip. As her consciousness left the fade, the memory flickered and dissolved around him, and Emmrich opened his eyes, finding her gazing at him, dry-eyed, but all of her sorrow clear on her face.

“Lilya….” As always, the way he said her name was a caress, warm and tender, and she felt fresh tears threatening. She swallowed hard, fighting for control.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, and his eyes widened.

“Whatever for?” He demanded, watching in dismay as she seemed to shrink, fragile shoulders bowing under the weight of her shame.

“I wasn’t strong enough… I couldn’t….” She stammered, her voice thickening with the tears she was trying to hold in.

“My love… My heart….” His own voice broke, and she took another shaky breath, clinging to self-control, even as she watched tears begin streaming down his face. He got to his feet, bending to gather her blanket-cocooned form into his arms, and carrying her to the chaise and settling at the raised end with her in his arms.

“I’m sorry…. I’m so sorry….” She mumbled into his chest. He shook his head, gently capturing her face between his hands, thumbs stroking her delicate cheekbones, wishing that he could erase every sign of suffering on her beautiful face.

“No, my darling.” He murmured, giving her a tiny shake. “I am sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe. I…” He broke off, his own tears choking him for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me, Lilya?” He demanded at length, a vulnerability in his tone that she had never heard from him.

“I… I couldn’t….” She faltered, blinking hard, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “The job wasn’t done…. We still had to face Elgarnan… deal with Solas… and then after…. Everybody was so happy… so ready to celebrate. I… I just… couldn’t….”

“You did not have to bear this alone, dearest.” He murmured, trying to suppress his own hurt, to give her the support she had not allowed him to at the time. “You never need to be alone.” They clung to each other, both weeping, and time lost all meaning.

Eventually, a tap on the door brought them both out of their haze of shared grief. Emmrich cleared his throat, raising his voice to call out an invitation to enter. Lucanis came in, carrying a tray. He was followed by both Neve and Manfred, both similarly laden.

“You both need to eat something.” Lucanis said firmly, carefully setting his tray down on the table next to the chaise.

“We can stay or go, as you like, but he’s right.” Neve confirmed, nodding towards one of the artifact tables in front of the aquarium wall, which Lucanis quickly cleared and moved closer so she could also put her tray down. Rook blinked, taking in the array of food choices set in front of them.

“I think you’d better stay, I don’t think we can eat all of this ourselves.” She was obviously trying for a light tone, but her voice wobbled slightly with lingering tears. A third table was brought close, for the tea tray that Manfred carried, and Neve and Lucanis quickly brought chairs from the seating arrangement on the other side of the room. Plates were passed around, and everybody began to make their selections from the small smorgasbord. It was apparent that Rook was completely spent from the outpouring of emotion, her body trembling with exhaustion against Emmrich’s chest, so he concentrated first on feeding her as much as he could before she drifted off, at which point he was able to focus on his own meal.

“Is she all right?” Lucanis asked in an undertone, once Rook had been asleep for several minutes. Emmrich sighed, tilting his head to very gently nuzzle his cheek into her hair.

“I believe she will be.” He said softly.

“You’ve both been crying.” Neve observed, her dark eyes intent on his face. Emmrich simply nodded, but said nothing further, and she sighed. “Sleep well, Emmrich.” She said heavily.

Chapter Text

The day after Dorian’s visit, true to her word, Teia arrived, a grumbling Viago in tow. Once the guests had been greeted, Emmrich took Viago for a tour of his lab, leaving the women some time to talk.

“How are you feeling?” Teia opened simply, drawing a deep sigh from Rook. “That good?” Teia asked ironically.

“Getting there.” Rook replied with a half-shrug, only her good shoulder moving, her tone falsely light. Teia eyed her with open scepticism, waiting. “It’s been a rough few weeks.” Rook said with deliberate understatement, drawing an affectionate smirk from the Crow.

“It still shows.” Teia pointed out. She slipped her feet out of her boots, curling her legs under her, and leaning towards Rook. “You know, if you need anything….”

“I know.” Rook cut her off gently. “I just….” She stared at her own hands, which were clasped anxiously against her belly.

“You’re not used to asking for help.” Teia filled in for her, and Rook nodded. “So I guess it’s a good thing we don’t need to be asked.” Teia’s tone grew smug, and Rook raised her eyebrows questioningly. “Do you think Lucanis would uproot his family and move back to the fade for just anyone?” Teia demanded. “He adores you, Rook, and he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t do everything possible to help keep you safe.” Rook was startled to hear Teia speak this way about Lucanis, who she always treated a bit like a younger brother.

“But Neve….” Rook began to object.

“Also adores you.” Teia cut her off flatly. “As do I.” She went on, her gaze intense. “Even Viago, in his own grumpy way, loves you, Rook.” Rook laughed weakly, her eyes darting anxiously. “Hey….” Teia’s voice was warm and insistent, and when Rook met her gaze, she was bewildered by the matching emotion reflected there. “I mean it.” Teia told her firmly. “You’re not alone; you never need to be alone.” Rook tried to smile, but she was on the verge of tears again. Teia leaned forward, frowning. “Listen to me. I can’t be the only person to have told you this. You have more friends than you know, Rook.” Teia went on, her voice soft, but her tone intense. “We haven’t forgotten, can never forget, that you saved all of us. But while we may have started as simply allies, we’re not just allies anymore. We’re family.” Rook stared at her. “So, if you need anything….” Teia returned almost to where she had started, but with more emphasis. “We’ll get it done.”

“Thank you.” Rook said faintly.

“Now,” Teia went on briskly. “Lucanis said he would make paella for lunch. Shall we make our way across?” Rook raised her eyebrows.

“He chose a recipe he would have to make two versions of for lunch?” She asked.

“He knows it’s my favourite.” Teia replied with a grin. She slid back into her boots, getting to her feet and moving to offer Rook her hand. Rook took it, allowing the assassin to draw her to her feet. Arm in arm, the two women started the short walk from the meditation room to the dining room. As they reached the landing overlooking the library, Emmrich and Viago came down the adjacent corridor from the laboratory to join them. Emmrich kissed the top of Rook’s head, then moved to kiss Teia on the cheek. Meanwhile Viago went to Rook, firmly claiming her hand from Teia, and kissing it with exaggerated enthusiasm, making her giggle. Seeing this, Emmrich bowed floridly to Teia, offering her his arm. The four of them made their way down the stairs and across the courtyard to the dining room building. Lucanis was still hard at work, and Neve was settled at the table, quietly breastfeeding Caz while she watched him.

The meal was a lively affair, and even Rook ate well, relishing the brightly spiced rice and vegetables. Emmrich enjoyed his own portion, but mostly enjoyed watching Rook eating, without any of the tensions that had accompanied her meals for the last several weeks. Teia and Lucanis exchanged a knowing look, and Emmrich found himself grinning, catching it. After lunch, Teia and Viago said their farewells, and Rook and Emmrich walked them down to the Eluvian together. Teia hugged Rook carefully, not to put pressure on her healing ribs. Then, as Viago stepped in for an extravagant kiss, Teia pulled Emmrich aside.

“I already told her this, but if there is anything we can do, please tell me.” She told him in an urgent undertone. “I know she doesn’t like to ask. If you need to ask for her….” She broke off as Viago came up behind her, putting an arm around her waist. “Love you both!” She brought her voice back to a normal volume level. “Take care of her.” She added, unnecessarily, with a significant look at Emmrich. The two crows stepped through the Eluvian, leaving Rook and Emmrich in sudden quiet.

Dorian and the Crows proved to be only the first of many visitors that they entertained at the Lighthouse over the next several weeks. Every day or two, the Caretaker would manifest wherever the Volkarins or the Dellamortes happened to be about the Lighthouse, announcing the approach of another guest or guests through the Crossroads. One at a time, the remaining Veilguards arrived, quietly moving back into their old rooms, until all had gathered. That night, Lucanis and Bellara prepared a feast, and everybody gathered in the dining room for a proper reunion. As food was passed around, everyone paid respect to a dish of apple cheesy butter noodles that had been prepared in memory of Scout Harding. The dish made a full circuit of the table, its contents untouched, and then it was ceremoniously presented to Assan, who dug in with gusto.

“I found a wheel of the Knickers.” Taash raised their voice above the gathering. “Anybody wanna try it?” Several hands went up, including Emmrich’s, and Rook shook her head, laughing. The cheese was passed around, and the pungent musk of it reached Rook’s nose, as Emmrich inspected his piece with interest. Her stomach gave a lurch, and she stiffened, clapping a hand over her mouth.

“Darling?”

“Y’okay?”

“Rook?”

The chorus of concerned queries only served to add to her overwhelm, and she lurched to her feet, turning to stumble blindly away from the table, the rapid movements prompting a wave of dizziness. Emmrich caught her around the waist as she faltered, drawing her close.

“I’ve got you, Lilya.” His low voice was warm in her ear, and she sagged against him.

There was a scraping sound as a chair was positioned behind him, and Emmrich sat, drawing Rook into his lap. A large empty bowl was handed to him, which he placed before her, and she immediately stopped fighting, the wave of nausea breaking over her. Davrin and Bellara exchanged an alarmed glance. Taash was already gathering up the offending cheese, removing it from the table. Rook’s stomach was empty, so all she brought up was bile, but the heaving lasted for several minutes before she slumped against Emmrich, panting for breath. He watched her with concern, taking some small comfort from the fact that at least her ribs did not seem to be paining her. Without a word, Lucanis took the bowl, quickly disposing of the contents and washing it. Then he brought a damp washcloth to Emmrich, who nodded, gently wiping Rook’s face and mouth with it.

“Hey Rook, y’okay?” Taash asked again, frowning.

“I’m okay….” Rook responded breathlessly, not opening her eyes yet.

“You know that telling us you’re okay when it’s obvious you’re not won’t make anybody stop worrying, right?” Taash asked, in their usual blunt manner, and Rook giggled faintly. Then Taash’s head tilted thoughtfully, their eyes narrowing slightly, as they registered that a scent that they had already noticed around Rook had grown noticeably stronger. They glanced at Neve and Lucanis, who both looked troubled, but not alarmed, and the pieces fell into place in an instant. “Wait a minute, does this happen all the time?” They demanded in horror, which they saw mirrored in both Davrin and Bellara. “Like, this is your day to day?” Rook didn’t say anything, pressing her chilled brow against the side of Emmrich’s neck, and he sighed, looking up at the concerned Qunari.

“Most days.” He murmured, one hand absently smoothing Rook’s flaming curls, over and over.

“That’s vashedan….” Taash’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Indeed.” Emmrich agreed, just as softly. Lucanis brought him a glass of water, which he very gently urged Rook to take a few small sips from. “There now….” Emmrich murmured, his smooth voice tender. “Will you try to eat a little bit?” He asked softly. Rook hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Good girl.” Emmrich got to his feet, carrying Rook back to the table and settling there with her still in his lap. Working one-handed, his other arm still wrapped securely around her, he loaded a plate with selections, and started to feed her small bites of various things. The others resumed their meal as well, but the talk was more subdued than it had been before. Rook was quiet in Emmrich’s arms, taking most of the small bites he offered her. Every now and then she would turn her face away, and he would eat that bite himself before offering her something different.

“What can we do?” Bellara was asking Lucanis softly, her dark eyes still on Rook’s huddled form.

“There doesn’t seem to be much anyone can do.” Lucanis told her heavily. “The healers aren’t even sure how to help, and Magister Tilani forbade Emmrich from trying to heal her anymore, because it doesn’t help, and he was killing himself with trying.” Bellara blinked, her soft frown deepening.

“I’ve never seen her like this.” She admitted.

“I don’t think even Emmrich has seen her like this, until the last few months.” Lucanis replied. “He’s doing the best he can, but there’s something else going on here.”

“Hey, what are you two whispering about?” Taash’s raised voice cut across the gathering, and Lucanis glowered at them, knowing full well that their own hearing was sharp enough to have caught most if not all of the conversation, but that they were interested in drawing everybody into it for some reason. He hesitated, making eye contact with Emmrich, who looked resigned.

“We’re all worried about Rook.” Lucanis said aloud, taking that for assent. Rook raised her head, startled, eyes wide, and he found himself addressing her directly. “I know that women are different, cielo do I know it, but what you’re going through is so much worse than what Neve had it scares me.”

“And there’s something else, too.” Neve piped up, frowning. “I don’t know what but it’s had both of you acting like somebody died for days.” Rook flinched, hiding her face against Emmrich’s shoulder again, and he closed his eyes in pain, rubbing her back soothingly.

“Wait.” Taash broke in again, leaning forward in their seat. “Did somebody die? Who died?” The others all exchanged horrified glances, as Emmrich drew a shuddering breath, and Rook started to sob audibly. “Okay, so someone definitely died….” Taash muttered to themself, clearly at a loss.

“I think it’s time to stop talking about this.” Bellara said, clearly striving for calm.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Taash mumbled, then raised their voice slightly. “Rook? I’m sorry.” An awkward silence fell over the gathering, broken only by the sound of Rook’s quiet weeping. It took a while, but eventually she grew quiet again. Emmrich very gently cupped her wet cheek, raising her chin so that he could look her in the eye.

“I think we’d best tell them, darling.” He told her softly. She nodded, taking a deep, steadying breath. Instantly, everybody’s attention was bent back on the two of them.

“When we fought Ghilan’nain, I was pregnant.” Rook started her story simply. “I didn’t know it; it must have been very early days, but when Solas dragged me into the fade, I miscarried.” She said it so calmly, there was a moment of stunned silence, and then a confused cacophony of voices, as everybody tried to process what they had just heard. Rook raised a hand, and silence fell once again. “I never told anyone, not even Emmrich. We had to finish with the Gods, and then there were the celebrations. There simply wasn’t time.” Nobody seemed to know how to respond to this, but it was clear that Rook had completely depleted her energy, so the quiet seemed appropriate as she drifted off in Emmrich’s arms.

“Emmrich, eat.” Lucanis told the older man firmly. “You can’t pour from an empty cup.” Emmrich looked a little startled at the phrasing, but the meaning was clear enough. He sighed, nodding heavily, and proceeded to clear the plate that he and Rook had been sharing.

“Can we get you anything else?” Neve asked quietly, and he considered the question briefly, before shaking his head.

“Thank you.” He murmured, getting carefully to his feet, so as not to jostle Rook. “Goodnight, friends.” He said to the table at large, turning, and carrying his sleeping wife from the room. After Emmrich took his leave, there was still no conversation amongst the remaining Veilguards. Each of them wrapped up in their own dark thoughts. None of them had come out of the fight with the Evanuris without trauma; everybody had lost someone or something, but the fresh understanding of the magnitude of Rook and Emmrich’s loss had them all reeling. When dinner was over, everybody helped with cleanup, then they dispersed to their respective spaces. Lucanis swept Neve into his arms, carrying her to the bed they now shared in his pantry. Taash made their way back into the Lighthouse tower alone, and Davrin walked Bellara back to her workshop.

“Did you want to come in?” She asked him awkwardly, and he nodded wordlessly, his gentle eyes intent on her. She gestured a bit awkwardly for him to sit down, closing the door behind him, and he opened his arms. She scrambled to nestle herself against his side, and he wrapped her up in a warm embrace.

“You okay?” He asked softly. She shook her head, but didn’t say anything, just tilted her head just so, her eyes huge and pleading, and he found himself smiling, as he bent to take her lips.

Chapter Text

The Veilguard were at breakfast when the Caretaker materialised with their usual lack of ceremony.

“Visitors approach from the Minrathous Eluvian.” They intoned, prompting a round of speculation at who might be visiting this time. Nobody was prepared for the argument that was in progress as Elek and Rana reached the dining room.

“Sorry, boss, she said she needed to see you.” Elek told Neve respectfully, scowling at the templar, who returned the scowl with interest.

“It’s fine, Elek, get yourself something to eat.” Neve replied, turning her attention to their visitor. “I already told you everything I know.” She began, not giving Rana a chance to say anything.

“Which was nothing.” Rana snapped.

“Which was nothing.” Neve concurred. “Except that you were chasing down a false lead. We almost lost Rook down there.” Rana glanced over at where Rook sat, picking at her toast and cheese, her thin shoulders bowed with exhaustion, her gaunt face still pale. The templar blinked, staring in consternation, and Neve cleared her throat pointedly. “And then the safe house was attacked! Don’t try to tell me that was a coincidence!”

“I wasn’t going to.” Rana conceded, reluctantly. “I… Rook?” Rook looked up in surprise to be addressed directly. “I’m sorry, I… didn’t know….” Rana trailed off, looking troubled.

“What are you sorry for, Rana?” Neve challenged. “You’re sorry Rook got hurt? You only wanted to hurt me?” Rana’s mouth fell open in shock.

“What? No!” She protested, glaring at Neve.

“Careful….” Elek seemed to come out of nowhere, standing at her shoulder, a dagger in his hand, which he was using with exaggerated casualness to trim his nails. Rana turned her head to glare at him in turn.

“Oh stop it, Elek.” Neve said wearily, waving him away. Elek moved to take a seat at the table, grinning, and Neve rolled her eyes.

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone.” Rana said, sounding a bit calmer. “I thought you could handle anything the templars might throw at you.” Her gaze strayed to Rook again.

“Need I remind you, we didn’t find any trace of your templars until they came for the Shadows after we got back?” Neve asked, an edge in her voice. “Which means they were watching the passages you sent us to search.” Rana bowed her head.

“I know.” She said heavily. “And I’m sorry.” She said again.

“Why are you here, Rana? Why did you need to see me?” Neve asked bluntly, having had enough of the verbal sparring. Rana didn’t answer immediately, pulling out a notebook that might have been the twin of the one Neve always carried. She opened it, flipping a few pages, and then extended the open notebook to the detective. Neve pursed her lips in annoyance, but took the book, starting to read. “You’re kidding!” She exclaimed, after a moment’s silence.

“I wish I was.” Rana replied flatly.

“What is it?” Lucanis voiced what everybody else was thinking. Neve sighed.

“Rana thinks we’re dealing with another ancient Elvhen power.” She said heavily. “Possibly one of the Forgotten Ones.” Rook and Emmrich exchanged a horrified look.

“Let me see that!” Bellara broke in, snatching the notebook from Neve. Neve bit back an annoyed retort, watching the Veil Jumper closely as she quickly skimmed the next several pages. “I think she’s right….” Bellara blurted out, turning the notebook to face Neve again. “I’ve seen that sigil before, in Arlathan. Strife and Irelin might know more.” Neve nodded, licking her lips, turning back to Rana. The two women, former allies, former friends, eyed each other warily for a moment. Neve drew a deep, shuddering breath, then another one.

“Thank you, Rana.” She said heavily. “I…” She trailed off, seeming uncertain.

“I’m sorry I got you all tangled up in this.” Rana said. “I thought we were just looking for a nest of corrupt templars, like old times. I should have at least gone with you.”

“I don’t see how that would have helped.” Neve pointed out.

“Well, I should have done something besides giving you partial information and sending you in blind.” Rana snapped. Neve chuckled at that. Lucanis wordlessly handed Rana a steaming cup of coffee, which she accepted with a nod of thanks.

“Would you like to come with us to consult with the Veil Jumpers?” Neve offered, and Rana considered for a moment, before nodding.

“I think this will go better if we pool our resources, share information.” She said.

“Just like old times.” Neve echoed ironically.

“Did you want something to eat?” Lucanis asked, as the tension between the two women eased. Another hesitation; another nod. He handed her a plate, gesturing towards the large shared table, which was still laden with food. Rana took a seat next to Rook, eyeing the younger woman with concern once again.

“I’m all right.” Rook told her softly, anticipating the question. The look Rana gave her was politely incredulous. Emmrich was hovering, but said nothing. Over the remains of breakfast, the plan was made to head to Arlathan the next day. By the time the discussion ended, Rook still had not eaten as much as Emmrich would have liked, but he could tell by the tension she was doing her best to mask, that she could manage nothing further for the moment. The Volkarins happened to be leaving the table as Elek prepared to escort Rana back to Minrathous. Rook got to her feet, and staggered, her green eyes losing focus for a moment. Emmrich hurried towards her, but Rana moved quicker, taking firm hold of the diminutive elf’s right elbow, stepping close instinctively.

“Easy….” She murmured as Rook sagged against her briefly. Then Emmrich was there, one arm lacing itself around his wife’s waist, drawing her in possessively, his gaze sharp with distrust on Rana’s face. Rana wasn’t sure what to say, so she just stepped back, slowly releasing Rook’s arm. Rook blinked, focusing first on Emmrich, then on Rana, frowning a little.

“Thank you.” She told the templar, sounding a bit breathless. “I’m all right.”

“No you’re not!” Rana burst out. Emmrich opened his mouth, as if to say something, then closed it again, frowning thoughtfully. Rana huffed out an annoyed breath. “I get it, you all don’t trust me, but there’s no need to lie to my face about something so patently obvious!” Her tone had begun reasonable enough, but grew more agitated as she went on. The rest of the Veilguard watched all of this play out in apparent bemusement. Elek seemed to be the only one not transfixed by the bizarre conversation, scowling at Rana, obviously on the verge of saying something, but Neve forestalled him with a sharply raised hand and a ferocious scowl of her own. “I’m not going to ask you what’s wrong, Rook, I know it’s none of my business, but don’t expect me to pretend that everything is fine. Neve said we almost lost you. We may have had a parting of ways, but I still care about you.” Rook stared at her for a long moment before speaking again.

“I miss you too, Rana.” She said softly. Stepping deliberately away from Emmrich’s supporting arm, she wrapped her good arm tightly around Rana, pulling her close, and after a moment’s stunned stillness, Rana hugged her back. The two women held to each other for a long moment, and nobody else seemed to breathe. When Rook finally stepped back, turning back to Emmrich, Neve stepped in, embracing Rana in turn.

“I’m sorry, Neve, truly, for everything.” Rana was speaking haltingly, even as she clung to Neve. “After Aelia… the choice you made…. I didn’t know how to move forward. I felt like I couldn’t trust you anymore, and I know that I lost your trust at the same time.” Neve stepped back, her hands on Rana’s upper arms, holding her at arms’ length.

“The Threads, the Shadow Dragons, we aren’t your enemies, Rana, I tried to tell you that.” She reminded her.

“I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.” There was a moment of charged silence, then Neve simply nodded.

“I’ll walk you back.” She offered, her tone lighter than it had been since Elek and Rana had first arrived. Rana smiled gratefully, and the two women linked arms, starting off with Elek trailing along behind them.

“Lilya….” Emmrich’s voice was warm in her ear, and she realised she had been drifting. She blinked, drawing herself more erect with a sharp intake of breath, and found him eyeing her with deep concern, still supporting more of her weight than either of them liked. He frowned, cupping her cheek with his free hand, finding her skin chilled, and she let her eyes close again, nuzzling against his hand. He sighed, bending to pick her up easily. With a parting nod to the remaining Veilguards, he turned on his heel and carried her from the room.

Chapter Text

Even after a day spent mostly resting, following that very eventful breakfast, Rook had slept late the next morning, and Emmrich decided to let her, leaving instructions with Manfred to bring her tea and something to eat when she woke, while he accompanied Bellara, Davrin, Neve, and Rana to meet with the Veil Jumpers, in hopes of learning more of the Forgotten One who appeared to be hunting them. Lucanis and Taash also stayed behind, nobody feeling comfortable with leaving Rook unguarded, even at the Lighthouse. When Rook eventually woke, she felt heavy and sluggish, her head aching dully. She sat up slowly and stretched herself, giving a faint groan as she did so. Almost instantly, she heard a soft tap of bones on the door.

“Yes, Manfred, I’m awake.” She called out. The door opened far enough for Manfred to put his skull in and peer at her.

“Mama sick?” He asked, and she shook her head.

“I’m fine, Manfred, I just have a bit of a headache.” She told him.

“I bring tea and food.” Manfred told her, and she smiled gratefully as he hurried off. In a matter of minutes, Manfred returned with a tea tray. Aside from the teapot and cup, honey pot, and a small dish of lemon wedges, there was bread that had been baked fresh that morning, a small crock of butter, and a plate that held a selection of mild cheeses. She had wrapped a dressing gown about herself, and pulled on a pair of wool stockings, but that was all. Her long hair was still its morning riot of untamed curls.

She allowed Manfred to pour her tea, adding a splash of lemon and a touch of honey, just she preferred it. While he saw to that, she spread butter on a slice of bread and took an eager bite. As Manfred presented her with the cup of tea, she took a small sip, smiling gratefully. She ate her way through the selections he’d brought her, noticing not for the first time, that certain flavours tasted odd to her now, which her reading told her was one of the less common afflictions of pregnancy. Manfred fixed her a second up of tea, then set about cleaning up the remains of her meal. As he took the tray and left the room, she heard Lucanis’s voice just outside her door.

“She’s awake?” He asked, and Manfred responded with a hiss of confirmation. Another light knock sounded.

“Come in.” She called, and Lucanis let himself in, his gaze intent on her face, relieved to see that she had some colour today.

“How are you feeling?” He asked. She considered for a moment before answering, taking stock of her body.

“I feel… heavy.” She said slowly. “My head hurts.” He nodded sympathetically.

“Did you get enough to eat? Can I get you anything?” He asked next.

“I think I’ve eaten all I can for now.” She told him, and he nodded again, his dark eyes soft on her face. “I don’t want to stay in bed all day, though. Would you help me?”

“Of course, querida.” He nodded, taking her outstretched hand and pulling her gently to her feet. He gave an elegant bow, offering her his arm, and she took it, and they left the room together. Taash was on the main floor of the library, staring sightlessly at a shelf full of elvhen curios, but they looked up sharply, watching as Lucanis assisted Rook down the stairs.

“Hey.” Taash said by way of greeting. “How are you feeling?”

“Better…” Rook replied vaguely, and Lucanis looked down at her sharply. Even with his assistance, her steps were starting to weave a little.

“Rook?” His voice was low but insistent, and she blinked at him, her eyes not quite focused.

“What is it?” Taash got up, watching closely to see if they would be needed to help. Lucanis was able to guide Rook to the chair that they all thought of as hers, and she sat down heavily, a breathless giggle escaping her, and Lucanis and Taash exchanged a worried glance. Taash moved to stand over her, nostrils flaring as an unexpected scent reached them. “Why does she smell like ginger wort?” They asked, and Lucanis blinked in surprise at the question.

“I have no idea.”

“Hey Rook, are you high?” Taash asked bluntly. Rook was still giggling and did not respond. “I think she’s high.” They concluded, turning back to Lucanis. At that moment, Manfred returned from cleaning up the kitchen, and Lucanis immediately started questioning him about what he had given Rook to eat and drink.

“What kind of tea did you make?” He asked, after some back and forth. Manfred, who sometimes forgot how to use words when he was stressed, made only a frustrated grumbling hiss, and Lucanis sighed. “Can you show me?” Manfred nodded and took off at a run, back towards the kitchen. Lucanis followed, leaving Taash to watch over Rook.

Reaching the kitchen, the first thing Lucanis noticed was that the tin of black tea with ginger that was usually served to Rook and Emmrich was sitting open and empty, and next to it was a large apothecary jar clearly labeled “ginger wort tea”. Manfred pointed proudly at the word ginger, clearly the only word on the label he had paid any mind to. Lucanis swallowed hard, keeping is voice calm to not alarm the poor wisp any further.

“Thank you, Manfred. Let’s go back to the library.” Manfred hissed eagerly, and he was off again, Lucanis trailing behind. “She is definitely high.” He told Taash.

“Hey Manfred, do you remember how to get to Arlathan?” Taash asked, and Manfred considered for a moment before hissing his assent. “I need you to go find Emmrich, he should be with the Veil Jumpers. Can you do that?” This time there was no hesitation. After all, finding Emmrich was one of Manfred’s favourite activities. “Tell him Rook needs him, okay Manfred?”

“I go!” Manfred declared enthusiastically, clattering down the stairs that led to the Lighthouse Eluvian. Rook’s giggles had finally subsided, and her eyes were darting anxiously between her companions and Manfred’s retreating figure.

“What’s happening?…” She asked, obviously unsettled.

“It’s all right Rook, Emmrich will be here soon.” Lucanis soothed, settling himself in the nearest chair to wait with her.

When the frantic skeleton burst out of the Eluvian at the Veil Jumpers’ camp, the only thing that saved him from the bows of the guards was his continued panicked babbling of Emmrich’s name. In short order, he was guided to where the meeting was taking place with Strife and Irelin, and as Emmrich turned towards him in alarm, nearly all of Manfred’s growing vocabulary deserted him.

“Papa… Papa… Rook….” He jabbered frantically, even those few words barely intelligible.

“Excuse me.” Emmrich told the gathering, with as much courtesy as he could muster in the circumstances. He didn’t bother with trying to get any more information out of Manfred, just took off for the Eluvian at a dead run. A headlong sprint through the Crossroads, and he was exiting the Eluvian below the library, taking the stairs two at a time, stopping dead at the incongruously peaceful scene that greeted him. Lucanis and Taash were seated on either side of Rook, who had calmed.

“Darling?” He moved to kneel at her feet, searching her face for some sign of what was wrong.

“Emmrich!” She leaned down to kiss him thoroughly. He returned the kiss briefly, then pushed her back, holding her head between his hands, noting that she was unusually warm, and her eyes were slightly glassy.

“What’s happened?” He asked the companions, his gaze not straying from her face.

“She’s a little high.” Taash told him calmly.

“A little… what?…” He blinked, turning to stare at the Qunari, mystified.

“We’re out of ginger tea, so it appears Manfred made her ginger wort tea, instead.” Lucanis clarified, watching Rook just as closely.

“Oh… oh dear….” Emmrich said faintly. Rook was gazing at him with open desire, her tongue running slowly over her parted lips. “Thank you for sending for me.” He told the other two, swallowing hard as Rook very deliberately spread her knees wide, her robe falling open to expose the tops of her thighs. “I think I’d best… get her back to bed.” He faltered, colouring as he realised too late the possible implications of his words. He rose to his feet, bending to pick Rook up, and she shifted determinedly in his arms, until she could wrap her legs around his waist, leaving him no real option but to cup her gorgeous ass in his hands to support her weight. She wrapped her arms around his neck, giving a throaty purring chuckle against the side of his neck, and his flush deepened. He cleared his throat loudly, turning to carry her upstairs to her room.

“She’s gonna eat him alive, isn’t she?” Taash said conversationally to Lucanis, once the door had closed behind him. Lucanis shook himself, realising he was still staring after them.

“She is.” He agreed heavily. “I need a drink.” He went on, getting to his feet. “Join me?” Taash nodded, and together they left the tower, heading back to the dining room.

Emmrich moved to the chaise, bending to lay Rook down on it, but she refused to let go of him, rolling her hips teasingly against him, and grinning in satisfaction as she felt his flesh stir against her. He lost his balance, barely catching himself before sprawling his full weight atop her, and she groaned in protest as he rolled them onto their sides instead.

“Darling….” His tone was gently chiding, but she ignored it, rubbing against him again, drawing a ragged gasp from his lips, which she immediately lunged in to capture with her own. He stroked her cheek with one hand, holding her steady so that he could draw back slightly, looking her in the eye. “Darling.” His tone was firmer this time, and she pouted at him.

“Don’t tell me you don’t want me.” Her voice was a heated growl, her hips giving another rocking bump against the insistent swelling that pressed against her through the intervening layers of clothing.

“You know I do….” He murmured, his voice a bit ragged. “I always want you, my love….” She purred in delight at his words, the heat in her mounting still higher. “But we mustn’t….” She stared at him in disbelief.

“Why not?” She asked, a hint of a whine sneaking into her voice.

“You’re not well, my dear.” He pointed out gently. “I couldn’t take advantage of you in this state.” She huffed plaintively at that, grinding herself deliberately against him once again, her mouth on his in hot demand.

“Please… take advantage….” She growled, her teeth worrying teasingly at his bottom lip, one hand moving to stroke him firmly, prompting a strangled moan, as he tried to keep his wits. “I need you Emmrich….” She went on, fumbling one-handed at the fastenings of his trousers. His hand on her wrist stilled her for a moment.

“My sweet Lilya….” He breathed, showering her flushed face with soft adoring kisses. “You’ll be the death of me.” She smiled smugly as he shifted again, lying on his back so that she could straddle him, closing his eyes as she leaned down to devour his mouth. He could feel every inch of her pressing against him, her breasts heavy against his chest, the small swell of her belly firm against him lower down, and her hips still moving to grind her heat against his now-urgent erection. He caught his breath, helping her now, as she sought once again to undo his trousers, and allowing her to strip them off him. She still wore nothing but a dressing gown and loose sleep shirt that didn’t even reach her knees, so no sooner had she gotten him free then she was guiding him inside. He groaned, fighting to hold himself still, to let her control the moment.

She was so wet, the heat of her exquisite torment as her body welcomed him in. No sooner had she fully settled over him, he felt her release shuddering along his rigid flesh, dragging the breath from his lungs in an erratic gust of mingled shock and pleasure. His hips arched beneath her, his own movement serving to intensify her climax, causing her to sob her satisfaction. She reached down to brace her hands against his shoulders, but her left arm gave out almost immediately, a very different sob escaping her. Emmrich grimaced, wrapping his arms around her, holding her still for a moment before repositioning again so that he was on top. He kissed her tenderly, starting to thrust, slow and deep. She returned his kiss, hips moving in concert with his thrusts, her good hand burying itself in his silver hair. Slowly, patiently, he brought her to the edge once again, playing her body like a violin, her moans the sweetest music he could imagine.

“Emmrich… Emmrich…. Emm-!…” She gasped, head sagging to one side, slender neck arching irresistibly, inviting his mouth. He lavished his adoring attention on the ivory column of her throat, lips teeth and tongue teasing, leaving marks on her delicate skin. Another gasp, this one shrill with the intensity of sensation his love bites always brought her, and he could feel her body shuddering around him once again, the heat of where they were joined mounting still further.

“That’s my girl….” He murmured, his lips against her pulse point, tongue darting out to taste her again. His movements became faster, harder, rougher, as he chased her to completion, groaning and shuddering in turn as he spent inside her. He slumped, gasping like a landed fish for a moment, waiting for sense to return, rolling clumsily to lay beside her instead of on top of her, wincing as a wave of shame smashed over her. “Darling….” He whispered, and she hummed in contented response, her exhaustion winning out, now that her arousal had been sated. She curled against him, nestling against his chest with a sigh that was almost a purr, her eyes already closed. As her breathing settled into sleep, he cradled her close, following her once again, this time into sleep.

Chapter Text

Emmrich woke to the comforting weight of her draped over him. He felt drowsy, and satisfied, and unforgivably filthy, but the sensation of her soft, relaxed breathing against his skin soothed him. The long fingers of one hand tangled in her disordered curls, gently rubbing her scalp with his fingertips, drawing a blissed-out sigh from her. His other arm tightened at her waist, holding her snug against his body, and she gave a hum of deep contentment, which made him smile.

“My sweet, darling Lilya.” His voice was so soft, and smooth, and sweet, the warmth of his love washing over her in a honeyed wave of complete security. She woke slowly, her entire body aching and heavy, but all of that paling next to the hot stabbing pain behind her eyes. She opened them, and the resulting assault of light on her senses caused her to flinch hard, a strangled sob escaping her, as she pressed her face against his shoulder, a shudder running through her. “Dear girl….” He murmured, the hand at her waist moved to cup her ghostly-pale cheek, a whisper of his magic touching her. She stiffened, feeling the familiar warmth, which aimed to ease her pain, and pulling away as hard as she could.

“You promised.” Her voice was husky and breathless, but her slitted eyes burned with intensity.

“But….” He started to protest, and she backed away from him across the bed, the continued pain in her head causing her to whimper, almost falling off the far side of the mattress as she tried to distance herself from him.

“No!” She rasped, her own hands coming up unconsciously to hold her aching head, and he could see her fingernails digging into the fragile skin of her temples and cheeks. “You… fucking… promised!…” He watched her in horror for a moment, struggling to rein in his own emotions.

“All right, darling… please… lie down….” He said haltingly, all of his usual suave confidence completely absent. “I… I’ll have to find someone….” He trailed off, frowning as she sagged onto her pillows, her head connecting with the headboard with a dull clunk, drawing a small cry of pain. “I can’t bear to leave you like this, my love….” He whispered, gathering her in.

“Please… just hold me….” She begged, fingers clawing against his chest, emphasising how badly she was shaking.

“I’m here, love, I’ve got you….” He murmured, calming a little as she leaned into him, slowly beginning to relax again. The guilt he had felt the previous day, for giving into her persuasion, and his own baser urges, was nothing compared to the self-loathing seething through him now. As if, by giving in to her, he had somehow caused this to happen.

He held her in silence until he was certain she had fallen asleep again, her strained breathing easing once again into relaxation. Then he very carefully used one hand to form the graceful gestures of a wisp summoning spell. He knew, given the population of wisps in Neve’s study, that he would have no trouble drawing several to him. Sure enough, within a few moments, a handful of wisps darted under the door and into the room, whirling and spiralling above him and Rook as they lay on the chaise. He didn’t speak aloud, using magic to draw what he needed directly out of his mind. An image of Neve, her lips curved in a sardonic half-smile, one eyebrow cocked, followed by a somehow unmistakable sense of her being drawn to this room. The wisps chimed cheerfully and darted from the room. Only a few minutes later, a rather bemused Neve knocked lightly on the closed door to the meditation chamber, and he called softly for her to enter.

“How’s she doing?” Neve asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as she came in.

“Did you know that overindulging in ginger wort could leave you with a hangover?” He asked, striving for a light tone, and she winced sympathetically. “She’s holding me to Magister Tilani’s edict against healing, but she’s in so much pain, I can’t bear it.” He admitted.

“Who would you prefer? One of the Shadows? A Mourn Watcher?” She asked, immediately understanding what he wanted from her.

“It doesn’t matter.” His voice came out louder than intended, his facade of composure cracking, and he drew in a sharp breath. She almost felt like she could see the crack being patched before her eyes. “Please hurry.” He whispered, his voice wobbling slightly. She nodded, nothing more needing to be said, heading straight for the Eluvian.

Neve had spent most of the walk through the Crossroads still trying to decide whether to head to the Necropolis or Minrathous. She eventually decided to bring one of his own people, reasoning that that would likely make him and Rook both more comfortable. Decision made, she took the ferry to the Converged City, following the familiar path that led to the Necropolis Eluvian.

Stepping through into Nevarra, she made her way along the familiar passage to the belfry, nodding absently in greeting to skeletons and living beings alike as she walked. Myrna and Vorgoth greeted her cordially, listening as she explained why Emmrich had sent her. When she had finished, glossing over the details of all of the circumstances that had conspired to bring Rook and Emmrich to their current conditions, emphasising only the fact that Rook required healing, which Emmrich was unable to provide at the moment, for the sake of his own health, Myrna was frowning. She glanced over at Vorgoth, who simply nodded. Not a word was spoken between them.

“Come.” Myrna said to Neve, taking off at a fast walk. Neve expected her to lead the way to the Necropolis’s infirmary to fetch one of the excellent healers that Emmrich had spoken of, but instead, the Senior Watcher simply led her back to the Eluvian, stepping through first, assuming Neve would follow, which of course she did. Even though Myrna never seemed to hurry, the way she moved so graceful she seemed to be floating or gliding much as Vorgoth did, Neve found herself trotting to keep up by the time they reached the Lighthouse Eluvian. Although Myrna clearly knew where she was going, Neve still felt the need to walk her all the way up to Rook’s room, possibly hoping to see her friend awake.

“It’s all right, my brave girl.” Emmrich was saying as the two women entered. “You’re all right.” Rook, for her part, was making a low keening whine in the back of her throat that made Neve’s skin prickle. Myrna moved quickly to the bedside, leaving Neve standing uncertainly near the door.

“Oh my dear….” The older woman murmured, bending over the couple on the bed, gently casting a skein of healing magic over Rook’s shivering form. Emmrich blinked in surprise, having clearly not expected Myrna to come herself, any more than Neve had.

“My Lady….” He began, but she simply shook her head, laying a gentle hand on Rook’s bent head and continuing her work.

“What’s happened?” She asked softly, smoothing her hand over Rook’s bright hair.

“We had a bit of a mishap with some truffles yesterday.” Emmrich said dryly. “I had no idea it could get this bad, or I would have sent for aid sooner.” She nodded, carefully weaving more healing, working slowly to avoid antagonising Rook’s own magic, to allow her body to adjust to the sudden changes that healing prompted. After a few minutes of this, physical touch, followed by magical healing, followed by softly voiced questions for Emmrich, or reassurances for Rook, the young woman finally fell silent, going limp in Emmrich’s arms. “Darling?…” His voice was gentle, belying the alarm that he felt at her sudden stillness, and she struggled to raise her head. He breathed a soft sigh of relief, kissing her temple. “It’s all right, darling, just stay with me.” She tucked her head in under his chin, closing her eyes again.

“Emm-…” Her voice was nothing but a wisp of sound, and he pressed his lips to her temple, the contrast between the chill of her skin and his warmth was dramatic, and she moaned softly.

“I’m here, Lilya, I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered, his lips still soft against her. When Rook had fallen asleep again, Emmrich finally raised his head to look at Myrna again. The older woman was swaying with exhaustion, and he blinked in alarm. “My Lady….” She waved away his concern with a sigh, moving to perch a bit precariously on the edge of the table opposite the chaise. Neve, who had stayed quiet near the door through all of this, moved now, the metallic clunking of her prosthetic somehow comforting as she slid a chair over to the Senior Watcher.

“And what of you, Professor?” Myrna asked pointedly, frowning at him, noting the dark shadows around his eyes, and the lines of exhaustion and worry on his brow. “What have you done that you are not permitted to heal your own wife?” Emmrich sighed reluctantly, but knew there was no sense in trying to avoid answering.

“I have… overextended myself, my Lady.” He told her, clearly choosing his words carefully. “Magister Maevaris Tilani, of Minrathous, has forbidden me from healing for the moment, and Rook clearly intends to ensure that I follow her orders.” Myrna’s lips twitched into an amused smile.

“Good.” Was all she said.

Rook woke again, her head pounding, her mouth dry and foul-tasting, her stomach churning. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but it had been long enough that there was nothing to bring up. That didn’t stop her body from trying, repeatedly. When it passed, she found herself cradled in Emmrich’s arms once again, her body still shaking in the aftermath, her vision blurred with tears she didn’t remember shedding.

“My poor darling….” He was murmuring tenderly. Another wave of nausea washed over her, and she retched, coughing up more bile, spitting the foulness into the bucket that he held for her. She felt him stiffen against her, the arm around her tightening reflexively. “Myrna?” His voice was low and urgent.

“I’m awake.” Came the immediate response. Rook forced her eyes open as Emmrich very gently wiped her mouth with one of his handkerchiefs, and she caught a very brief glimpse of bloody streaks on white linen before yet another wave swamped her, bending her double, pain tearing at her midsection. This time, when the heaving eased, she was whimpering breathlessly, and Emmrich simply wiped her mouth again. She felt Myrna’s magic touch her once again, and some of the horrible clenching in her abdomen eased. She sagged against him, and he felt the clammy dampness of sweat on her brow, his heart pounding, his anxiety and helplessness in the face of her suffering palpable.

“Professor, remain calm.” Myrna’s voice was still low and soothing. “You’ll be no help to her at all if you panic.” He nodded, biting his lip, deliberately slowing and deepening his own breathing, earning an approving nod. He gently started combing his fingers through her hair, the feel of it soothing both of them, and his breathing eased still more. She was drifting again, on the edge of sleep, and he sighed, continuing to stroke her hair, holding her close. After several minutes’ work, Myrna sat back in her chair with a heavy sigh.

“Are you well, my Lady?” Emmrich asked her seriously.

“Yes, Professor.” She told him wearily. “And you?” He nodded, sighing in turn. “You should have something to eat.” She told him gently, and nodded again.

“The kitchen is straight across the courtyard.” He told her simply. “I suspect that Lucanis will have something prepared.” She gave an approving smile, getting to her feet.

“I won’t be long.” She assured him in parting. As she left the room, descending the stairs into the library, she found Bellara and Davrin sitting quietly on the settee, their heads very close together, but Bellara straightened up sharply as she approached.

“How is she?” She asked softly, and Myrna sighed.

“She’s sleeping again.” She began with the easiest fact. “It is the best thing for her. In such cases, there is little that magical healing can contribute; the situation is so complex, and Rook’s own magic is on high alert, far too ready to defend against anything that might perceive a threat.” Davrin and Bellara exchanged a glance that was heavy with meaning, and then both pairs of soft brown eyes turned back to the necromancer. “The baby is actually in better condition than its mother right now.” She went on without further prompting. “But that will not be the case for long, if we cannot get Rook’s strength up. The weaker the mother, the greater the threat to the child.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Bellara said thoughtfully. “Is there anything we can do?” Her tone was pleading, and Myrna blinked in surprise.

“You are already doing it.” The necromancer told her seriously. “Your presence, your support, your love.”

“It doesn’t feel like enough.” Davrin spoke up for the first time.

“It is everything.” Myrna said firmly. “Surely you must know how she treasures you all.” Bellara smiled tentatively, thinking of how quickly she had come to think of both Neve and Rook as wonderful older sisters, and Myrna’s answering smile was warm. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Professor Volkarin hasn’t eaten.” She murmured, her calm professional facade back in place. She bobbed a nod to the two elves and continued out of the Lighthouse tower. Immediately outside, she found Manfred and the gryphon, Assan, deep in some sort of animated conversation made up of squawks, shrieks, and hisses. They were making such a racket that she was briefly startled that no sound of it had penetrated past the closed door of the tower, but then given the nature of the Fade, especially in this place, where it had been molded specifically to ensure the comfort of its mortal occupants, perhaps that was not so surprising. As she emerged, Assan lowered his head, spreading his wings in a clear threat display, and Manfred hissed a protest.

“Myrna… friend.” He informed Assan, who calmed instantly at the reassurance, cocking his head curiously to eye the Mourn Watcher, his eyes sharp and intelligent.

“Good day, Master Assan.” She greeted him courteously, and the gryphon preened a little at her tone. He had nearly reached his full growth by now, but hadn’t quite developed the coordination to match yet, making him still appear gawky and adolescent. Manfred moved to follow her as she continued across the courtyard, and she smiled, knowing how eager he would be to help. Reaching the dining room, she stepped inside, pausing to allow her eyes to adjust to the dimmer lighting, and found Lucanis, lounging at the empty dining table, a cup of coffee cradled in his hands. Just as Bellara had, he straightened sharply when she entered, Manfred trailing silently behind her.

“My Lady Myrna.” He greeted her with a deceptively casual nod, and she half-smiled.

“Rook is sleeping.” She told him, without him having to ask. “Emmrich hasn’t eaten since I’ve been here.”

“Nor have you.” Lucanis pointed out, dark eyes narrowing. She conceded the point with a tilt of her head. “Just give me a minute, this is almost ready.” He said, stepping over to the stove where a large stewpot was simmering. She inhaled deeply, detecting something sweet and spicy that caused her stomach to growl audibly. Lucanis chuckled a bit smugly as he gave the concoction a taste and adjusted the seasoning slightly. He grabbed a fresh tasting spoon, loading it and handing it to her. She took the offered bite, finding a bean stew, rich with spices, and sweetened by tender yams. She smiled, nodding appreciatively, and he grinned. Lucanis started serving up bowls of the stew while Myrna sliced fresh bread, and Manfred showed Lucanis the replenished tea tin, waiting for approval before he began brewing a pot.

Once everything was prepared, the trio set off, delivering bowls to Neve, in her study, Bellara and Davrin, in the library, and Taash in their room, before making their way to the meditation chamber where Emmrich and Rook awaited. Rook was still asleep, and Emmrich appeared to be on the verge himself when the door opened, and he made an effort to rouse himself. Once Emmrich had been provided with a bowl of stew, some buttered bread, and a steaming teacup at his elbow, Lucanis excused himself, and Myrna settled back in the chair she had drawn up next to the chaise to eat her own meal. Manfred was peering at the sleeping Rook with every appearance of deep concern. As if aware of the skeleton’s scrutiny, Rook shifted and whimpered in Emmrich’s arms, hiding her white face against his chest, and he pressed a soft kiss to her bent head, nuzzling into her hair. Myrna was watching him over her teacup, frowning thoughtfully.

“Let me guess.” She said suddenly, her voice soft. “Magister Tilani forbade you from healing to force you to rest, but you’ve been so busy fretting over your wife, you’re not really sleeping anyway?” He coloured a little at the question.

“I try to sleep when she does.” He said softly, avoiding her gaze.

“No you don’t, Professor.” She contradicted, her voice still soft but implacable. “And you really should.” He said nothing, his white lips trembling slightly, and she frowned, seeing it. “She won’t thank you for making yourself ill, you know.” She pointed out. He nodded heavily, but he still held himself tense. “Emmrich.” She used his given name so seldom that he blinked in surprise. “It’s all right, you can rest.” She told him firmly. “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere; I’ll be here if anything happens.” He slowly raised his gaze to meet hers, and she smiled softly. “Rest….” Very carefully, he repositioned, still holding Rook close as he eased himself into a more comfortable position, resting his head against hers as he allowed himself to relax, closing his eyes.

Chapter Text

When Rook next woke, she was warm and comfortable. She could feel Emmrich’s arm, heavy where it draped across her waist, feel his breath warm on her face, and hear his gentle snores, and she smiled softly, opening her eyes to gaze at him in the bluish light refracting through the aquarium wall. His face, slack with sleep, was noticeably pale in the strange lighting, some of the lines of worry and exhaustion on his face drawn deep enough to be still visible in relaxation. Her fingertips touched his brow, sliding softly over his temple to his cheek, her smile fading.

“He’ll be all right.” Myrna’s voice was not unexpected, and she simply turned her head until she could see the Senior Necromancer, who still sat nearby. Myrna picked up a glass of water, leaning over to gently support Rook’s head as she urged her to sip from it. “He’s been so worried about you, I had to bully him into sleeping.”

“Thank you for doing it.” She replied faintly, her voice slightly hoarse from her recent bouts of sickness.

“Of course, my dear.” Myrna murmured serenely. “Your friends have been worried about you.” She went on, watching Rook closely. She was not surprised, but she was saddened by the guilt that shadowed the younger woman’s face at her words. “I believe your fellow elves, in particular, would appreciate a visit.” Rook drew a deep, steadying breath. “Shall I send them in while I get something for you to eat, and give you a chance to talk?” Myrna suggested gently. Rook nodded in silence. “Send one of them for me, if there’s need.” She waited for another nod, then got to her feet, and left the room.

As she had expected, Bellara and Davrin were still in the library. Bellara had fallen asleep, her head on Davrin’s shoulder, and he was sitting very still, holding her close, his eyes watchful, even though there was little likelihood of any threat finding them here. He glanced up as the sound of Rook’s door opening and closing was followed by Myrna’s soft steps on the stairs, as she made her way down to them. As she approached, Bellara woke, something about the sharpening of Davrin’s attention drawing her out of sleep.

“Rook is awake and would benefit from a visit from friends.” Myrna told them softly. Bellara’s smile was instant and wide, and she drew away from Davrin softly, taking a moment to rub her hands over her face and check her hair. He watched her, smiling softly. “Do try not to wake Emmrich, he’s pushed himself too far.” Myrna added. “I’ll go fix her something to eat.” The two elves nodded, standing and heading for the stairs. By the time Davrin and Bellara joined her, Rook had carefully repositioned herself, sitting up a bit more, cradling Emmrich’s head against her breasts, a tender smile on her face as she stroked his hair. His snores had settled into soft breathing once again.

“Hey Rook.” Bellara’s voice was quiet and tentative as she led the way into the room, moving to sit down in the chair that Myrna had been using by the chaise.

“Hi you two.” Rook replied, her voice still husky, her smile tired. She carefully extricated one hand and reached over to Bellara, the two women clasping hands tightly for a moment. “Myrna tells me you’ve been standing guard….” She was trying to keep her voice light, as if amused, but an audible tremor betrayed her.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Bellara asked anxiously, completely misinterpreting, and Rook blinked in surprise.

“Mind?” She echoed blankly. “Why in the world would I mind? Just knowing you’re nearby, and maybe thinking of me, even a little bit… it’s comforting.” Neither Bellara nor Davrin had ever heard this level of vulnerability from their one-time leader, and Bellara’s brow furrowed in distress, realising just how fragile Rook must be feeling to let this show. Davrin had taken up a position, standing just slightly behind Bellara’s chair, and he stayed very still, as if hoping they would forget he was there. Bellara was squeezing Rook’s hand again, her own eyes filling with tears, apparently at a loss for something to say. The mounting emotions in the room seemed to be getting to Emmrich, and he shifted restively against Rook, making a soft sound that wasn’t quite a moan, and she focused for a moment on soothing him, a moment which gave Bellara a chance to calm herself as well.

“We were worried about you.” Bellara said, her voice even quieter than before. “Didn’t feel like there was anything we could do, but we wanted to do something, even if it’s something that doesn’t even matter.”

“But it does matter.” Rook insisted. “I’m grateful.” She smiled weakly at Bellara, and Bellara returned it. “Have either of you two slept, though?” The question caught them off-guard, and Bellara gulped silently as Rook suddenly returned to some approximation of Leader Mode, her green eyes intent on her friend’s face.

“I had a nap.” Bellara said defensively, and Rook raised her gaze to pin Davrin, who flushed under the sudden scrutiny.

“She did.” He confirmed, deliberately misunderstanding the question in her gaze. Her lips quirked into an exaggerated frown, and he chuckled. “Guilty.” He conceded. “But mom, I’m not sleepy!” He added with an impish grin, and she rolled her eyes. The moment was broken by the return of Myrna with a tray. Once Rook had eaten her fill, she turned her attention fully back to Davrin and Bellara, who had kept up a steady stream of light chatter throughout. Her eyes were dull with exhaustion.

“You should sleep.” Bellara told her softly.

“So should you.” She countered, and the younger elf nodded reluctantly

“We’ll see you soon.” Bellara murmured, getting to her feet and taking Davrin’s waiting arm. As they left the room, Rook let her head sag, curling herself protectively around Emmrich’s sleeping form, and allowing herself to relax.

Myrna stayed for several days, although no further magical healing had been required after the first day. She kept watch over Rook and Emmrich while they took turns sleeping, only occasionally dozing off herself. On the morning of the fourth day, she made the decision to wake them both for breakfast with the team, when Lucanis brought her a morning pot of tea.

“My Lady, are you well?” Emmrich asked, frowning as his gaze fell on her, once he had taken stock of his own and Rook’s condition.

“’Tis nothing that a good night’s sleep won’t remedy.” Myrna assured him wearily. He eyed her doubtfully, but said nothing further, returning his attention to his wife. She was clear-eyed but very pale, and if he was any judge, any too-quick movement seemed to be causing dizziness. There were additional cups on the tea tray, so he poured one out for her, his hands mostly steady as he added a splash of lemon, a touch of honey, and extended the cup to her. She took it from him, their fingertips brushing lightly, taking a cautious sip, and was relieved to find that the tea tasted exactly right.

“I should have realized….” She muttered, sighing deeply, and he frowned at her sudden change of mood.

“Darling?…” His beautiful voice prompted gently.

“The tea… it didn’t taste right. I’ve had ginger wort before, I should have remembered….” She was frowning, and he shook his head, an insistent finger under her chin bringing her head up to meet his gaze.

“My love….” He murmured tenderly. “You mustn’t blame yourself for what happened. You’re fine, and the babe is fine, and Manfred is so dreadfully sorry for the mistake….” Her eyes widened at that last bit, her mouth dropping open in an O of horror.

“He feels responsible for what happened….” She whispered, the realisation hitting her hard. “He thinks he hurt me….” Emmrich nodded heavily, watching in concern as she set her teacup aside and disentangled herself from their blankets. “Where is he?” She demanded in sudden urgency. “I need to talk to him.”

“He’s probably in the kitchen with Lucanis; he’s been helping there as much as possible.” He told her. “We’ll both get dressed, and then go find him together.” There was a pleading note in his voice, and she caught it, pausing to look at him, wide-eyed. He held her gaze, his eyes steady and intent on hers, and she felt herself calming in instinctive response. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then another, nodding a bit shakily, and he smiled his approval.

First he helped her into a soft loose gown with a bodice that gathered under her breasts, the long skirt flowing gently over the increasing swell of her belly and reaching her ankles. Soft wool stockings and her comfortable traveling boots completed the ensemble, and then she sat quietly, watching in silence as he dressed much more simply than was his usual habit, foregoing the formality of a vest or robes in favour of only a silk shirt and trousers in his customary tones of purple and green. She wordlessly helped him with his buttons, and then he raised her to her feet when they were both ready, planting a kiss on her forehead. It was the first time in several days that neither of them felt either hot or cold in contrast to the other, a fact of which both of them took notice.

Through all of this, Myrna had simply observed in silence, and as the Volkarins left the room together, she trailed behind them, just as quietly. As expected, Manfred was in the kitchen, hard at work assisting Lucanis with breakfast preparations. He looked up when they entered, then turned quickly back to his work, bone shoulders hunching in a defensive posture that neither Rook nor Emmrich had ever seen him adopt.

“Manfred, come here please.” Rook called softly, taking a seat at the table. Manfred hissed something garbled and stayed where he was. Rook frowned, watching him for a moment. “I’m sure Lucanis can do without you for a moment.” She told him calmly. “I need to speak to you.” Another hiss, this time a sharp, clear refusal. Emmrich decided it was time to step in. He moved to where Manfred was carefully slicing fresh fruit for the table and took the knife from the skeletal hand.

“Manfred.” His voice was firm. “I will finish this, go speak to your Mama.” Manfred still hesitated, staring at the knife in Emmrich’s hand before giving a hissing sigh, and turning towards the table. Rook watched him come in silence, and he knelt at her feet, bending so low as to almost prostrate himself before her. She looked down at him in alarm for a moment, then bent gingerly to lay her right hand on his shoulder.

“Manfred, look at me, honey.” She said softly. The only response for a moment was a sad hiss, then he slowly straightened up, still kneeling.

“Mama….” His lantern eyes were huge as he looked up at her. “Manfred sorry. So sorry!” Was all he managed before subsiding to agitated burbling that reminded her a bit of a kettle boiling over, water hissing to steam in flames. Her brow crinkled, her lips trembling a little as she looked down at him, a picture of abject penitence, and she shook her head.

“It was a mistake, Manfred.” She told him gently. “Mistakes happen, and sometimes people get hurt, but I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” She realised halfway through that she was almost directly quoting something Varric had once said to her, and her lips curved in a soft smile. Manfred quieted, listening as she spoke, and she tried to inject as much calm as she could into her tone. It wasn’t quite her Rook The Leader voice, but it seemed to be having the desired effect on the agitated wisp. His gaze finally met hers properly, and she was smiling tenderly at him. “My sweet boy, you are forgiven.” She concluded. “Now come give your Mama a hug.” Manfred got to his feet, doing as she bid, and she drew him gently onto her lap, making no complaint even as the outer curve of one of his exposed hip bones dug into her belly a little, hugging him tightly to her. On impulse, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the curve of his skull. Manfred blinked at her a couple of times, evidently surprised, then wrapped his skeletal arms around her in turn, gurgling happily as he returned the hug.

Rook released Manfred only reluctantly, so that he could go make a fresh pot of tea, taking the time to show the tin to Lucanis for approval before beginning. Glancing at a top shelf, out of Manfred’s reach, Rook noticed that the jar labeled “Ginger Wort Tea” had had its label scratched out in red ink, and replaced with a single harsh, angular “NO”. It appeared no one was taking any chances. When Manfred brought her teacup to her, sweetened and lemoned exactly to her taste, she took a sip immediately, smiling affectionately at him, giving a nod of thanks, and he hissed joyfully, returning to help Lucanis finish up breakfast preparations.

By the time breakfast was ready, a luxurious mess of eggs, cured meats, fried potatoes with onions and peppers, and copious amounts of shredded cheese that could be sprinkled wherever anyone wanted, the rest of the Veilguard had joined them, and the meal was once again a lively affair. Rook and Emmrich were mostly quiet as they ate. Rook was hungry, but her stomach was knotted with anxiety, the length of time she had been enduring morning sickness having stretched far beyond what was considered normal, making it difficult to trust that eating would not simply lead to more suffering. Emmrich knew better than to push her, but he did make an effort to select the most choice morsels of her favourites, offering them from his own fork. As usual, Myrna watched them, concern and approval warring in her expression.

“My Lady, will you return to the Necropolis today?” Emmrich asked her, once he was certain Rook had eaten as much as he would be able to persuade her to, for the moment. Myrna considered the question for a moment, then nodded.

“I believe there is nothing further I can offer here, for the moment.” She told him. “However, keep in mind that I have not cleared you for healing.” She added, her serious tone sharpening to severity. “You still haven’t enough reserves to be giving them away, even to your wife. And you know where to find healers if you need us.” Emmrich’s expressive face twisted for a moment, but Myrna’s expression did not change, and he sighed heavily, bowing his head.

“Yes, My Lady.”

Chapter Text

It took time, but Rook slowly began to improve. It had been long months of near-unrelenting morning sickness, but her nausea was all but gone, although she was still prone to dizzy spells when she moved too quickly. Emmrich’s relief at the marked improvement was evident, and he immediately applied himself to helping her regain her strength through a carefully considered regimen of good food, light exercise, and plenty of rest. The stream of visitors to the Lighthouse had eventually dwindled, although the remaining Veilguards remained, all of them unwilling to leave their beloved Rook unguarded, so as her recovery progressed, small groups of them began taking outings through the various Eluvians they had at their disposal.

On this particular day, Rook, Emmrich, Neve, and Lucanis were headed to Treviso for tea with Caterina. From the Eluvian, which placed them on the top floor of the Diamond, to Villa Dellamorte was a fair distance, and Emmrich flatly refused the suggestion that they take the Crow’s Road across the rooftops to shorten it. Rook had been improving by leaps and bounds for a week or more, but she still was not up to ziplining, balancing, or jumping across even Treviso’s narrow alleyways. It was the first time Rook had ever ventured to the lower floors of the casino, and given the conspicuousness of her pregnancy, she felt very out of place indeed as Neve, Lucanis, and Emmrich ushered her across the crowded gaming room from the lift to the door to the street.

Teia had already ordered a carriage to take them across town, and for the first time in her life, Rook actually had to wait for the driver to hop down and put the step in place before she could be hoisted into the spacious cab. Once she was ensconced on one of the bench seats, Emmrich settled himself beside her, and she leaned against him with a contented sigh, taking one of his hands and pressing it softly to the slope of her belly, letting him feel the movements of the babe within. He caught his breath in wonder. It was not the first time they had done this, but every time threatened his usual composure sorely. Neve and Lucanis exchanged a grin, settling on the bench facing the one Rook and Emmrich occupied, and she leaned in to kiss him. The swaying of the carriage was steady enough, for the most part, that by the time they pulled up in front of Villa Dellamorte, Emmrich had to gently wake Rook. Neve exited the carriage first, and Lucanis and Emmrich both helped Rook to climb down. Safely on the ground, she took Emmrich’s arm, and Lucanis moved to escort his own wife up the steps to his grandmother’s villa.

“Cariño!” Caterina had already thrown the front door wide and was coming down to meet them. She went first to Rook, cupping her chin between wisened hands, sharp eyes searching her face. “I am so relieved to see you looking so well, my dear.” She cried, kissing her on both cheeks, as was her custom. She turned to Emmrich, who bent down so that she could kiss his cheeks as well, then she gestured them up into the house, turning to greet her grandson and granddaughter-in-law. The entire party made their way to the villa’s formal sitting room. Emmrich settled Rook comfortably on one of the room’s plush couches, sitting at her back and drawing her gently back to lean against him, one long-fingered hand resting protectively on her bulging belly, very lightly stroking her through the luxurious silk of the gown she wore.

Tea was an elaborate affair of tiny sandwiches, decadent sweets, and a highly spiced tea blend that inflected everything with its exotic aroma. Although Rook’s appetite had improved with the subsiding of her morning sickness, the bulk of her belly had now enlarged to the point that she could only eat small amounts at a time; there simply wasn’t room. Caterina, who had herself borne five children, understood this intimately, and had clearly planned the entire meal around that simple fact. The tiny portions meant she could try everything without filling herself up too much, each offering no more than a couple of bites, and she did try a little bit of everything, well aware that equal care would have been taken to ensure that none of the selections contained meat. Once she had finished eating, Rook leaned contentedly against Emmrich, letting his voice wash over her, as he continued to make polite conversation with their host, closing her eyes.

She awoke sometime later. She had somehow been gotten to a bed, although she was certain that by now she was far too heavy for Emmrich to simply carry as he once had. She could feel his warmth next to her, his hand stroking over and over the high curve of her belly, whispering sweetly to the child within in a way that made her smile. Her delicate fingers found his hair, combing softly through the silver strands, noticing as she did so that there was almost no black left on his head, and he looked up at her, smiling a little sheepishly.

“You’re awake.” He murmured unnecessarily, drawing a soft giggle from her.

“How long did I sleep?” She asked, stretching herself slowly, unable to suppress a groan at a couple of audible pops from her lower back.

“A couple of hours.” He replied with a half-shrug, and she frowned.

“I’m sorry… I’m just so tired….” She mumbled, a yawn catching her unawares halfway through, somewhat spoiling her apology, but he shook his head, leaning up to kiss her tenderly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, my darling. You are carrying another entire person inside you; of course you’re tired.” She giggled again, not having thought of it that way before.

“It’s really starting to feel that way….” She agreed, her own hands running lightly over the stretched skin.

“Would you like to get up, or shall we stay here a bit longer?” He asked, his gaze heating suddenly as he looked at her, and she gave a slow smile, and a throaty purr of approval. Gently he spread her legs, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the dark curls that covered her mound. Lifting her knees to his shoulders, he moved closer, giving her weeping slit a long, slow lick, and she moaned in delight, eyes closing again. “Look at me, Lilya.” His voice was soft, but it was clearly a command, and she opened her eyes again, gazing down at him. “Keep your eyes on me, love.” He urged, then turned his attention back to pleasuring her. His gaze never left her face, even as his eager tongue lapped up her sweetness, sliding into her to draw out more of it. She was never able to keep quiet with his mouth on her, and he savoured her moans, just as he savoured the taste of her.

His thumbs very gently spread her lower lips open for him, finding her flesh engorged with blood, and oh so much more sensitive than usual. His every touch was as gentle as he could make it, but he was as a man starving for her, desperate to hear her cry out and spill her delectable juices into his eager mouth. He closed his mouth delicately around her exposed pearl, using his tongue to roll it against the inside of his upper lip, then sucking at it in a way that made her squeal, her hips bucking heavily. Encouraged, he carried on, continuing to stimulate her bud with his lip while hungrily open-mouth kissing her slick channel.

She was panting, almost sobbing for breath, and he continued to devour her, not letting up. Even as she moaned and gasped, her eyes remained fixed on his face, as if their eye contact was all that was holding her together. He locked his mouth around her aching cleft, sucking and slurping, his mouth demanding all her body could give, his thumb moving to her clit, pressing and flicking over it, still wet from his mouth, knowing that she would not be able to hold back for long. As he played her body like a harp, she gave a harsh, wailing cry, and he felt her internal muscles begin to flutter and clench, and a fresh flood of sweet juice gushing into his eager mouth. Her eyes were slitted, but did not close even as she came, still holding to him desperately. When she finished, they were both breathing heavily, and he moved to lay alongside her, draping one long leg across her thighs, his hand, still slick with her, cupping her chin and turning her head so that he could kiss her. She tasted a heady blend of her own juices and sweat on his mouth, and it drew a groan from her. Then she stiffened, a very different groan shivering through her.

“Darling?…” He was immediately attentive, eyes sharp on her face, which was tense with discomfort. After a moment, she relaxed again with a gusting sigh of relief, and this time he felt it, the walls of muscle that encased her belly releasing, all at once. “Oh!” He whispered, his hand moving to stroke the taut skin very very gently, feeling her relaxation deepen somehow at his touch. “Oh my poor darling.” He murmured tenderly. “Breathe….” Now she closed her eyes, focusing obediently on her breathing, feeling the next exhalation gust out of her harshly as another contraction rippled through her. “It’s all right, you’re all right. Just breathe….” He talked her through it this time, slow breathing with her through her pain. “That’s it, good girl.” This time, as the brutal cramping passed, he pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “I’m going to go run you a bath, love. It will help you relax. I won’t be long.” She nodded, smiling shakily as he got to his feet and moved to the room’s ensuite. When he returned a moment later, she was dozing again, and he smiled softly, watching her in silence until her bath was ready.

“Lilya.” His soft voice, brought her back to wakefulness. “Come, darling.” He helped her up, supporting her carefully as he helped her walk the short distance from the bed to the waiting bath. He lowered her carefully into the warm water without any sign of difficulty, and she settled down with a blissful sigh to soak her tension away. He knelt beside the tub, using a soft cloth to wash the traces of her recent orgasm away, then turned his attention once again to her belly. There had been no further contractions, but he could still see movement, small localised ripples, and the occasional tiny bulge pushing outward, but he knew that was just the baby moving inside. His smile was awestruck, his hand moving to gently stroke over one of those spots.

“I think they know your touch.” Rook told him very softly. “They always calm when you touch them.” He blinked, tears welling in his beautiful eyes. She took the wash cloth from his unresisting hand, and gently cleaned his face with it, wiping away the traces of her pleasure and his tears. Letting the cloth fall into the cooling water, she leaned up to kiss him, one hand burying itself in his hair, which was disordered from laying in bed with her, although she was certain he had not slept. After a moment, he withdrew gently, gazing into her eyes.

“Let’s get you back to bed, darling.” He said softly, and she nodded. Gathering his feet under him, he gripped her forearms firmly, and drew her to her feet. Grabbing a waiting towel, he wrapped it warmly around her, then helped her to step out of the tub. He took a moment, hands rubbing briskly, to dry her off, then escorted her back to the welcoming bed. As he tucked her in, for the first time she noticed that aside from the soft candlelight that lit the room, it was full dark.

“Are we staying the night?” She asked, startled, and he chuckled, lowering her down to sit on the plush mattress.

“We do appear to be staying the night.” He confirmed with an amused smile. “And our hostess appears to have been prepared for this eventuality.” He added, holding up a silk nightgown she had never seen before with a questioning quirk of his eyebrows.

“So not only had she prepared the guesthouse, but she also procured us sleepwear?” She asked, amused, realising as she did so that he was also wearing an unfamiliar sleep shirt. He nodded.

“And changes of clothes for the morning.” He added, and they laughed together. He slipped the nightgown over her head, and she found that it was a perfect fit, the fabric buttery soft and clearly expensive. The colour was a delicate lilac that she knew was Emmrich’s favourite. He crawled into bed alongside her, tucking them in snugly, a graceful wave of his hand extinguishing all of the candles at once. “Rest, my dearest.” He whispered, drawing her in against him. “I love you.”

Chapter Text

The next morning, as they dressed for breakfast, Rook was intrigued to discover that the new gown that had been provided for her was exactly the right size. The full skirt allowed ample room for her belly, but the bodice was fitted, hugging her ample breasts in a way that immediately drew Emmrich’s gaze when she turned to face him, his hands stilling midway through fastening the golden skull pin at his collar. She bit her lip, blushing under his hot gaze, the way he stared at her like a man starving making her feel beautiful in a way she rarely did anymore. He set the pin aside, moving swiftly around the bed that was between them and wrapping his arms around her, desire giving way to concern at the look on her face.

“Darling….” He drew her close, cupping her cheek in his hand. “Don’t I always tell you how beautiful you are?” Her smile was a wan, unconvincing thing, and she lowered her head, pressing her brow to his chest as if aware of it. She knew she was being silly, but she couldn’t deny the emotions careening through her, her eyes stinging as she struggled not to cry. His hand, still on her cheek, gently raised her head again, allowing him to kiss her. “You’ve never been more beautiful, my love.” He told her fervently, pressing his forehead to hers, even though she knew it cricked his neck quite badly to do so. He guided her back to the bed, settling himself with his back against the headboard, and drawing her down to lean against him, his hands playing over her breasts and belly from behind.

“I have often wondered what I possibly could have done to merit such an exquisitely beautiful creature in my life, let alone my bed.” He went on, worshiping her with his words as well as his hands, his breath hot on her neck as he began to kiss her there. “So young, and strong, and beautiful; what could you possibly want with a tired old man like me?” She stiffened at his words, and he fell silent.

“Don’t….” She said sharply. “Don’t you ever try to make me feel better by putting yourself down!” Her voice was shaking with anger, and he blinked in surprise at the vehemence of her response.

“I’m saying nothing that isn’t true.” He pointed out, and she pulled away from him, shaking her head angrily.

“No!” She snapped, turning to glare at him. “I’m not such a prize, and you are not a tired old man!” Moving heavily, she scooted off the far side of the bed, getting to her feet, and moving to pull her boots on. He watched her, more than a little stunned by the turn that the morning had taken, only realising as she headed for the door, that she had every intention of returning to the main house without him. Shaking himself, he scrambled to finish dressing and follow.

As soon as Rook closed the door of the guesthouse behind her, her tears spilled over, and she made her way across the intervening garden and lawn half-blinded by them. Neve and Lucanis saw her coming through one of the dining room windows and exchanged an alarmed glance, both of them wordlessly hurrying out to meet her. Rook was stumbling a little, when suddenly Lucanis was there, his arm slipping around her waist in support.

“What’s wrong, querida?” He demanded, pulling her gently to a stop. She was a little out of breath, and still weeping silently, and she just shook her head, turning her face away from him as if to conceal her tears.

“Did you and Emmrich fight, honey?” Neve asked sympathetically, coming up on her other side. She bit her lip hard, nodding, and the Dellamortes exchanged a rueful glance over her bent head. “Okay, let’s get you something to eat, and you’ll feel better.” Neve sighed, wrapping her own arm around Rook’s waist in turn, husband and wife each half-hugging her between them as they helped her the rest of the way to the house. As the couple settled her at the table, Caterina surveyed all three of their facial expressions, and wisely remained silent. Neve immediately began fixing a cup of tea for Rook while Lucanis filled her a plate. By the time Emmrich caught up, looking utterly shattered, Rook had stopped crying, and was picking at some toast with jam. He drew a sharp breath, but Neve spoke up before he had the chance to say anything. “Just let her eat, Emmrich.” She told him firmly. He closed his mouth, his heart in his eyes as he looked at Rook, whose head was bowed over her meal, refusing to look at him.

“You should eat something, Professor.” Caterina told him quietly, and he nodded, looking a little dazed as he took a seat further down the table. He did try to have something to eat, but the food tasted like ashes in his mouth, and from the look on Rook’s face, she was experiencing something similar.

They all heard the bell, announcing an arrival at the front door. Only fragments of what was said could be heard from the dining room, but the butler appeared to be telling the newcomer to wait while he announced them. They were answered with an annoyed hiss, and both Rook and Emmrich looked up in surprise, as Manfred came shambling into the room. The wisp stopped dead in the doorway, apparently baffled by the separation between Rook and Emmrich at the table, burbling in confusion. Rook glanced at Emmrich, the first time she had looked at him since their argument, letting him see how red her eyes were from the tears she had shed. She was opening her mouth, drawing a shaky breath, and he held his own breath, heart in his eyes. He never learned what she would have said, as the large windows that faced the gardens blew inwards, in a torrent of noise and broken glass. Rook and Emmrich were still staring at each other, as each realised that the other was unarmed. Caterina was already on her feet, limping heavily as she brandished her heavy walking stick, clearly prepared to use it as a club. Lucanis and Neve moved instinctively to place themselves between the windows and Rook, daggers and scepter at the ready.

“Emmrich, get her out of here!” Neve’s voice was shrill as she stepped forward to meet the first of their attackers. Emmrich ran to Rook, wrapping his arms around her, and she turned into his embrace without hesitation, any residual emotions from their argument yielding to the urgency of the moment. As one, they turned towards the servants’ corridor that led to the kitchens, just as another roar of magic sundered the air. The massive formal dining table shattered, sending shards and splinters flying in all directions. The magical explosion caused a powerful concussion wave, tearing Rook from Emmrich’s arms and sending them both flying. He heard her breathless shriek a bare instant before the force drove him headfirst into the edge of the doorjamb, sending him hurtling into darkness. Seeing Emmrich fall, Caterina moved with sudden agility, a dive and a roll bringing her to stand protectively over Rook’s prone form.

“Estoy aquí cariño.” She said firmly, the only indication of her distress being the simple fact that she was speaking Antivan and not Trade. “No dejaré que te toquen.” Rook had no idea what she was saying, but the tone was so strong, so certain, she couldn’t help but trust that voice. Neve and Lucanis were fighting for their lives as wave after wave, both Elvhen and human, came at them, without respite. The household staff, all Crows, of course, had joined the fray, but they were still sorely outnumbered. Several things happened at once. Rough hands grabbed Rook, half-lifting her from where she had fallen, and beginning to drag her away. As she cried out, Caterina turned to face them, just as a Templar shield crashed into her from behind.

“Caterina!” Lucanis’s voice was a feral roar, as he saw his Grandmother fall, but even as he started towards her, the man holding Rook fade-stepped once, twice, again, and was gone. “NO!” Neve turned as her husband screamed. He slumped to his knees next to Caterina, but his eyes were still fixed on the point where Rook and her captor had vanished. And just like that, it was over.

The remaining attackers withdrew, vanishing as quickly as they had appeared, leaving devastation behind them. Neve moved quickly, first to Caterina, then to Emmrich, verifying that both were still breathing, just unconscious. Then she checked in just as quickly with the butler, who assured her that the staff had taken no losses. It was clear that this attack had had one goal, and only one goal. Rook was gone.

Chapter Text

Rook woke in darkness. The surface beneath her was cold, hard, and uneven; she could smell rotting leaves, moist soil, and green growing things, all crushed beneath a cheek that was throbbing with pain. The entire left side of her body, from heel to head, felt battered, as though the way she had come to be on this forest floor had not been gentle. She lay still for a moment, checking herself over. Her weak wrist was throbbing where it was pinned beneath her. Her shoulder, which had very nearly recovered from its dislocation, felt torn, and her head was awash with pain.

She tried to reposition, and a breathtaking pain surged through her swollen belly, ripping a strangled cry from her lips. She vaguely heard voices, nearby, and coming closer, but her pain-clouded mind was not immediately able to discern any words. Rough hands turned her over, and she gritted her teeth, trying without success to hold back another cry, as her own hip rolled over her injured wrist, grinding it into the ground, the shift also further wrenching her shoulder. She closed her eyes tight against the prickle of tears. She could feel her belly shifting, sheets of muscle clenching in a wave that took her breath away.

“Is it supposed to move?” One of her captors sounded alarmed.

“Aye.” Another voice confirmed casually. “Means we better hurry, though. The Lady will be angry if she misses the show.” Nothing further was said as camp was broken, and Rook was slung unceremoniously face down across the back of a packhorse, like a sack of grain. Between the sporadic clenching of powerful abdominal muscles and the direct pressure on her belly, causing her unborn child to shift and push against the walls of her womb in protest, she could barely breathe, and it was only a matter of minutes before blessed waves of blackness dragged her into unconsciousness again.

“Where is she?” Emmrich came awake in a rush, fragmented memories of the attack combining with the fact that he was alone in the luxurious guesthouse bedroom where he and Rook had spent the night, making it clear that he had not dreamed it. His head ached abominably. Alerted by his outburst, Manfred came into the room, clearly frantic with worry.

“Mama gone!” He screeched. “Bad men took!”

“We’ll find her, Manfred.” Emmrich told him, with a certainty he did not feel.

“Papa hurt!” Manfred objected, and Emmrich frowned, bring a hand up to the nexus of pain on his forehead, finding a tender, swollen spot, partially scabbed over, the pain radiating clear into his skull.

“How long…” He faltered, swallowing hard, fighting for control. “How long has Mama been gone?…”

“It’s only been a matter of hours.” Lucanis put in, letting himself quietly into the room. “We wanted to give you a chance to rest. Neve has been trying to track them, but I think she could use your help.”

“Lucanis!” Emmrich pushed himself into a sitting position, pushing through as his head swam, the pain lingered, and he felt weak and shaky. “What happened?…” With a sigh, Lucanis recounted the events of the battle after Emmrich had been knocked out. “Your Grandmother?…” Emmrich asked in evident dread.

“She is alive.” Lucanis told him heavily, and Emmrich exhaled a sigh of relief.

“Rook would never forgive herself if Caterina had been killed in her defense.” He said softly.

“And Caterina will never forgive herself that such harm has come to Rook while a guest in our house.” Lucanis countered, his own simmering anger. Emmrich sighed, nodding. They found Neve in the dining hall, crouched on the floor in the wreckage of the dining table. Along with shattered, splintered wood, there were numerous bloodstains on the floor, and that appeared to be the object of the dark-skinned woman’s focus. She looked up as the men entered, relief clear on her face as her eyes fell on Emmrich.

“You’re okay.” She gave a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. He moved to stand over her, aware that he was looming, but also aware that if he were to join her on the floor, he would likely need considerable assistance to get up again, and wishing to forgo that particular indignity, if at all possible. “There’s so much blood here… Surely some of it has to be hers, but I don’t know how to tell.” She explained, looking up at him hopefully. Emmrich sighed, sinking stiffly to one knee beside her. He began weaving magic over the bloodstains, closing his eyes to better focus. After a moment, he gave a frustrated growl, opening his eyes just as the world tilted, depositing him in an ungainly heap on the floor amongst the bloodstains.

“Emmrich!” A hand on his back brought him back to awareness of his surroundings, and he drew a ragged breath, suddenly realising that he had not been breathing, gasping like a landed fish, his body’s desperation for air fighting against the unbearable tightness in his chest, his head splitting with pain. “Emmrich….” He was aware of Neve’s voice, calling his name, her hand steady on his shuddering back, but he could barely hear her over the roar of the blood in his ears, barely feel through a blanket of numbness that encased his body. “Emmrich, listen to me. You’re okay. We’ll find her. Just breathe.” As his breathing began to ease, the tears started, harsh, anguished sobs tearing from the depths of him in a choking torrent of unmanageable emotion. Neve was rubbing his back now, trying to calm him, but even the knowledge that it was not his Rook who was doing so made him cry all the harder. It took several minutes for the weeping to run its course, leaving him exhausted, the aching in his head becoming a torment. He pushed himself up on shaking arms, staring at the mess of old blood, and shaking his head.

“None of it is hers.” He said reluctantly. Neve cursed softly. He clambered awkwardly to his feet and almost fell again; Lucanis’s quick reflexes and grip on his arm were all that saved him. “Has word been sent… back to the Lighthouse?” He asked shakily, and Neve nodded. She was peering at him in obvious worry. “Don’t…. Please don’t….” He said, before she even opened her mouth. “I am well enough for the moment. I cannot stop until we find her.” She nodded her understanding.

“We’ll find her.” Was all she said.

“We have to find her.” He responded. His gaze dropped once again to the blood on the floor, and a thought struck him. “I have an idea; I need to get to the Lighthouse.”

Once again, they took a carriage from the villa back to the Diamond, Emmrich fidgeting anxiously all the while. When they stepped off the lift on the top floor of the casino, Teia and Viago hurried to meet them. Taking in Emmrich’s extreme pallor, which made the bruising on his face show up all the more livid in contrast, neither Talon said anything, just quietly checked their weapons and fell in behind, as they headed for the Eluvian. The walk through the Crossroads was silent. Emmrich set a punishing pace, in spite of his own continued unsteadiness, leaning heavily on his skull-headed staff, rage and fear spurring him on.

Exiting the Eluvian beneath the Lighthouse, he hurried up the two flights of stairs to Rook’s room, darting around without a hint of his usual aplomb, clearly searching for something. Over the weeks of Rook’s illness, certain things had been neglected, keeping up with laundry among them. Normally Emmrich would have been mortified to be seen digging through a pile of dirty laundry, but in this case, it offered a possibility. After a few minutes of rummaging, he found what he was looking for: one of his linen handkerchiefs that was streaked with old blood. Rook’s blood. Clutching the stained cloth, he moved from Rook’s room to his own adjacent laboratory, already mentally preparing the ritual that would be required to use that blood to locate Rook.

Neve stayed quietly in the lab with Emmrich, watching over him, and prepared to help if needed. Emmrich darted about, arranging components, tracing sigils. He glanced at her only once, pausing to down a Lyrium draught, steadying himself, then he closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and began to cast. Neve’s shoulders shifted in discomfort; she was unaccustomed to observing blood magic without trying to stop it, but she remained where she was, watching, brilliant mind analysing the spellwork, as Emmrich’s magic reached out, searching for the source of the blood on the cloth in his hand. The magic swelled, the handkerchief floating now, as the hand not clutching his staff for support began to trace intricate patterns in the air, sending his scrying out over a wider area.

The small hairs on the back of Neve’s neck were standing on end now, the swirling magic growing more turbulent, her instincts screaming at her to shield herself, but she breathed through it, continuing to observe, prepared if Emmrich should need her to step in and assist. Even through the growing storm of magic, Emmrich’s strained breathing was audible, every inhalation catching in his throat, his one hand clawed on his staff. Still the magic expanded, the necromancer throwing his head back as he pushed further and further, tendons standing out on his neck, the physical strain becoming more and more evident, the fingers of his free hand splayed, trembling, reaching.

“Arlathan….” For an instant she wasn’t sure she’d heard him; the magic was pulsing in time with his harsh breaths, as he struggled to close out the spell, to not just let it snap. “She’s in Arlathan….” Moving without thinking, Neve, stepped up to his side, ducking under his outstretched arm, her smaller, darker hand moving into place beneath his, supporting him as she added her power to his to draw the magic back in safely. When it was done, he sagged, gripping his staff with both hands now, swaying on his feet. Neve moved quickly, grabbing another draught of Lyrium from his desk and bringing it to him. Realising that he wasn’t steady enough to manage it himself, she unstoppered the vial and lifted it, obliging him to bend down, standing on her toes, to pour it into his mouth.

“Take a minute.” She told him firmly. “Lucanis should have gathered everyone by now, so we can go as soon as you’re ready.”

“We need to hurry….” He rasped, now that his spellwork was done, franticness was starting to overtake him again. Neve grabbed his arm, squeezing hard as she stared up at him.

“Emmrich! You’ll be no use to her if you drive yourself to collapse before we’ve even found her!” She snapped, giving him a little shake which was almost enough to upset the delicate balance holding him upright. He blinked a few times at her, seeming to take an inordinate amount of time to bring his eyes into focus on her face.

“You’re right.” The words were a frustrated sigh, and she gave a relieved smile, grabbing the arcane scepter from her belt and using it to draw his heavy desk chair over so he could sit down while regaining his breath. After a few minutes of just breathing, he straightened his shoulders, adjusted the cuffs of his robes, and got to his feet. Neve was pleased to see that he seemed quite a bit steadier. Nodding to her, he started for the door, and she followed without a word. There was nobody in the library, so they headed quickly across to the dining hall.

When Neve had said that Lucanis was gathering the others, Emmrich had thought she meant the other Veilguards, so he was quite startled to find the dining hall more full than it had ever been. In addition to Viago and Teia, they had been joined by Antoine and Evka of the Grey Wardens, Myrna and Vorgoth for the Mourn Watch, Strife and Irelin of the Veil Jumpers, Tarquin and the Viper representing the Shadow Dragons, and Maevaris and Dorian for the Magisterium. Even Isabella of the Lords of Fortune stood off to one side, flanked by a couple of former Antaam. As Emmrich made his way to his usual seat, he noticed that Rook’s chair at the head of the table had been left empty, the other Veilguards having taken their own places. He settled to the right of the empty chair, just as the door opened again and Illario, Rana, and Elek joined the throng. When Neve said Lucanis was gathering everyone, she clearly meant everyone.

Chapter Text

The meeting passed in a blur for Emmrich, who let Neve and Lucanis take the lead. Everyone involved understood that once Rook was located, Emmrich would have no attention to spare for anything else, so the majority of the planning similarly lacking his input only seemed appropriate. The Veil Jumpers and the griffons were the first to set out, beginning the search through the vast forest, while the rest of the gathering relocated to the Veil Jumpers’ base camp. Assan and Davrin were part of the scouting party, the Warden having stripped off the majority of his armour to allow the young griffon to carry him more easily. While they waited, Maevaris and Myrna both came to check on Emmrich, although they all understood that magical healing at this point would be out of the question; it took too much out of both the caster and the patient to even be considered at this crucial moment.

“Look at me.” Maevaris told him firmly, peering intently into his eyes, and frowning at what she saw. She exchanged a significant look with Myrna, both healers wordlessly agreeing to keep very close to the necromancer in what followed, all of them very aware that they were more than likely going into a fight. Similarly, the other Veilguards all stayed close to Emmrich, keeping an eye on him with varying degrees of subtlety. Taash was particularly agitated, pacing a bit in the limited space, and checking their weapons repeatedly, dividing their attention between Emmrich’s bent form and the surrounding forest, always alert for trouble.

Bellara, on the other hand, moved to sit on the ground at Emmrich’s feet, looking up at him in concern. To her eyes, he had never looked so old, so lost, so defeated. His pale face was visibly streaked with the tracks of tears that had been allowed to dry on his skin, his jaw shadowed by a two-day growth of stubble, his hair hanging in utter disarray, a few wayward strands actually dried into the scabbing over the cut on his forehead. Even when Rook had been trapped in the Fade following the fall of Ghilan’nain, his emotional devastation had not approached the state he was in now.

“We’re going to find her, Professor.” She said with all the firmness she could muster. “We’ll find her, and she’ll be okay. We’ll get her back.” It was uncertain whether she was trying to convince him, or herself.

Rook woke again. It was daylight, and she was momentarily dazzled by sunlight filtering through green leaves. She tried to move her hand to shield her eyes, and it was only then that she realised she was shackled, arms pinned above her head, legs splayed on what appeared to be a stone slab of some kind. The surface beneath her was cold and hard, and her back ached fiercely from the forced position. However, that discomfort was quickly overshadowed as another contraction rippled through her, squeezing mercilessly, and causing her to whimper breathlessly.

“Ah, the guest of honour wakes.” A mocking voice sounded from above her. She tried to tilt her head to see who was speaking, but they were somewhere beyond the head end of the slab, and she could not. A laugh greeted her effort. The contraction passed, leaving her limp and gasping, once more becoming aware of the pain in her wrist and shoulder. “It won’t be long now, I daresay.” Her unseen captor said with evident satisfaction. The calculated cruelty in those words drew a frightened sob from Rook, and the voice laughed again.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Rook could feel panic starting to overtake her. She heard a sharp intake of breath, and impatient-sounding “tut” of reprimand, and then felt a ringing open-palmed blow snap her head to one side, the bruising on her cheek throbbing in protest. Far from the grounding that her captor had apparently intended, the slap served only to intensify the fear, the helplessness, the complete wrongness that Rook was already feeling, so much so that when another contraction started, she barely reacted at all, still caught up in the spiraling emotions that seemed intent on choking her. After a moment, she realised that there was an actual hand gripping her throat, shaking her, and she opened her eyes, blinking a few times, trying to focus on the figure looming above her. They were impossibly tall, bringing to mind memories of Solas, the Evanuris, Anaris. Sharp predatory eyes in an unnatural shade of gold watched her hungrily, as yet another contraction ripped through her. This time, instead of easing, though, the pain carried on, intensifying unbearably, a strangled sob tearing from Rook’s lips, rising to a full-throated scream.

Her cry startled nearby birds into silence, drawing the full attention of the nameless, faceless men who had brought her here. Then, after a moment, another shrill cry shivered out of the air high above, the enraged screech of a griffon. An answering call rang out from further away, then another, off in another direction, until the calls faded out of human, or elvhen hearing. Rook, of course, knew those voices, every one of them, but the thing that gave her the most hope was the first call she had heard. Somewhere, almost directly above the clearing where she was bound, was Assan.

Davrin felt his heart tighten in his chest at the fear and pain he could hear in Rook’s voice. He had no chance to react before Assan was responding, his fury palpable. Then the other griffons were answering, the net of their search audible as the calls fanned out from their position. He knew that the riders closest to the Veil Jumper camp would already be on their way to report their finding, the griffons able to near-perfectly discern each others’ positions by sound. It would not be long before their allies would be joining them; until then, they continued to circle, keeping watch, prepared to act if those below gave any sign of relocating. As they waited, he was aware of several of the other griffons joining them, the Elves who rode them waving in greeting. No words were necessary, they only awaited ground support to begin their attack.

The waiting was the worst part, especially as he could still hear Rook, far below, alternating cries of pain, sobs, and desperate gasps for breath. Davrin heaved a sigh of relief as flashes of reflected sunlight from the ground reached him from several points around the clearing. It was time. Raising his hand in a fist, he signaled to the other griffon riders, and as one, the griffons tucked and dove, blood-chilling shrieks accompanying their attack, the forces on the ground rushing forward at that signal.

It was chaos. Although the griffons’ cries had alerted the defenders, they were not remotely prepared for a well-coordinated attack from several directions at once, nor for the sheer number of foes that came at them. If the circumstances hadn’t been so dire, it might have been laughable how greatly outnumbered Rook’s captors were. However, the tall elf, the Forgotten One, seemed determined to make up the difference by herself. She had climbed onto the altar where Rook was restrained, her movements preternaturally graceful as she stepped easily over and around her captive, lashing out in all directions with the powerful magic only the ancient Elvhen still commanded. Drawn by Rook’s continued cries, Emmrich and his entourage closed in, the necromancer’s eyes blazing with anger, the light of the Fade gleaming all around him as he summoned a wave of spirit energy and flung it at his adversary. Assan screamed a challenge, swooping at the tall elf, and for the first time since the fight began, she faltered, stumbling over one of Rook’s ankles, and pitching off the far side of the dais.

Seeing her wrong-footed, Davrin jumped from Assan’s back, driving his knee into her chest as he came down on top of her. Emmrich and Bellara closed in from opposite directions, and the Warden dove out of the way as their magics enveloped the staggered elf. Neve and Maevaris weren’t far behind, and as his allies seemed to have the enemy mage well in hand, Emmrich turned away and hurried to Rook. He caught his breath in horror as he fully took in her plight. Her bad wrist was so swollen that the flesh was puffed on either side of the manacle, the metal digging in brutally, just starting to draw blood. She was sobbing in apparent hysteria as the most recent contraction released her, giving no indication of recognising him as he bent over her, a shaking hand caressing her cheek.

“Lilya… I’m here, darling.” He whispered brokenly. “I’m here!…” He pressed his hand to the manacle on her good wrist first, intending to open it with magic, but drew back sharply, shaking out smarting fingers at the resulting sensation of burning-cold sparks that bit into his skin. She cried out sharply, evidently having felt the same effect herself. The shackles absorbed his magic, and used it to punish the attempt. “I’m so sorry!” He gasped, his hand returning to her cheek, careful of the fresh bruising that centered on her delicate cheekbone, then raised his head to look around. Taash had already taken up one of their twin axes, stepping around to where the chains were secured at the head of the altar, judging their blow carefully, taking no chance of further harming Rook. The first blow was sharp, metal screeching on stone, and the chains shattered where the blade caught them. Quickly, they moved to the foot, the axe rising and falling two more times, and Rook was free. Emmrich very gently lifted her from the stone slab, sinking down to the ground, his back pressed against the solidity of the altar, holding her as tightly to him as he dared, calling her name again.

“Lilya! My love… my darling….” This time his voice seemed to reach her, and she stared at him, wide-eyed, her eyes slow to focus as she struggled to see him.

“Emmrich….” He felt much of the tension drain out of her as she breathed his name, but she was clearly still in pain, and her contractions were coming with alarming regularity.

“I’m here… I’m here….” He murmured, injecting all the calm he could into his voice, knowing that this was going to be hard enough without her panicking. “Just breathe, darling. Breathe with me… slow… deep….” Myrna moved to join them, sinking to her knees in the dirt. She smiled approvingly at Emmrich, leaning over to take Rook’s right hand, squeezing it gently.

“You’re safe, my dear.” Her voice was as serene as ever, her certainty soothing both husband and wife. “It will be all right.”

The clearing had emptied, the majority of the rescue force having returned to the Veil Jumper camp and dispersed through the Eluvian to their own places. The Veilguard remained, of course, salvaging supplies and equipment from the existing camp to set up their own. Lucanis kept himself busy preparing food, making tea and coffee, keeping water on the boil in case it was needed. Maevaris had joined the small group clustered around Rook, as it became increasingly clear that the delivery of her child was imminent. A decision had already been made that it would not be worth additional effort of trying to move her at this point, so instead, steps were taken to render the situation as comfortable as possible. Using the altar where Emmrich leaned as one wall, a spacious makeshift tent was erected, affording at least a bit of privacy, but nothing could be done to contain the harsh cries of pain that each contraction prompted. All of Emmrich’s energy was bent on reassurance, helping her to breathe through the pain, cradling her against him, her head propped against his shoulder when she wasn’t rigid with the excruciating sensations of labour. He held a fresh handkerchief in his hand, using it to gently wipe away sweat and tears when she was still, doing everything he could think of to ease things for her.

Neve sipped her coffee near the fire, trying not to flinch every time Rook cried out. She remembered only fragments of her own labour, but it had been nothing like what Rook was enduring, the young woman’s screams as much an expression of fear as they were of pain. Across the fire from her, Davrin had his arms around Bellara, who was obviously devastated by Rook’s cries, trying to hide her head against the dark-skinned elf’s broad chest. Neve watched the pair of them for a moment, noting that even as Davrin was trying to offer comfort, his soft, dark eyes were swimming with tears, and Assan, who was laying nearby, had his ears flattened, tail twitching in obvious agitation.

“Darling?…” Everybody jumped at Emmrich’s voice, ringing with alarm. The healers’ voices were audible, but their words indistinguishable to those listening outside the tent. “No no no nononono….” Emmrich’s voice was frantic.

“Emmrich!” Myrna’s voice cracked out, a sharpness in her tone that no one had ever heard. A moment’s silence, and then a sharp intake of breath.

“What can I do?” Emmrich demanded, still clutching Rook close; she had lost consciousness.

“You’re doing fine, Emmrich, just hold her. We’ve got this.” Maevaris’s voice cut in, firm and calm, as it always seemed to be. “Just make sure she keeps breathing, and we’ll handle the rest.” She did not see Emmrich’s look of renewed alarm, her focus bent on the baby that she and Myrna were determined to deliver, with or without Rook’s input. Emmrich blinked back tears of anxiety, focusing fiercely on Rook, one hand moving to rest on her chest, reassured by the shallow but steady rise and fall of her breath.

Chapter Text

It took hours. Rook’s breathing did falter, and Emmrich wordlessly used his own magic to physically pump her lungs, to keep her alive, while the healers concentrated on bringing their baby safely into the world. His own calm was hard-won, but he knew that if he lost control now, she would not survive, and she had to survive. He lost track of everything, his entire awareness narrowing to his breathing, and hers, and the magic that kept them synchronised. He didn’t notice when parts of his body began to lose feeling, nor when his own head sagged forward, his cheek resting against her temple, his chin on her shoulder. As long as she kept breathing, nothing else mattered. The quiet was broken by a thin, shrill wail; a newborn baby’s cry. Emmrich heard it, but did not immediately understand, his eyes having long since closed, as he continued to breathe for both of them.

“Emmrich.” He could not feel the hand on his shoulder, but he did feel the sudden jolt as it gave him a shake. “Emmrich!” His head felt unbearably heavy, even his eyelids leaden, too much to raise them. “Emmrich, it’s all right. She’s okay.” The voice gentled, and the barest flicker of a smile made his ashen lips twitch for an instant. “She’s okay, Emmrich. You can rest.” The voice continued.

“Emmrich.” Another voice intruded itself upon his fading consciousness. This voice he recognised, this voice was to be obeyed. “Let go, Emmrich. It’s all right.” Myrna assured him. With a whimper of protest, he did as instructed, letting the magic subside, feeling Rook take an unaided breath, then another. Satisfied, he let the darkness carry him away.

The baby’s crying had subsided, Maevaris supporting the newborn carefully so that she could nurse from her still-unconscious mother. When she had had her fill, Maevaris took the tiny swaddled bundle, set it against her shoulder, and got stiffly to her feet. Myrna remained where she was for the moment, carefully arranging several of the available blankets over and around Emmrich and Rook. As night fell over Arlathan forest, it had grown colder, and she wanted to keep both husband and wife as comfortable as possible while they recovered from their ordeal. With a nod to the other healer, Maevaris ducked under the tent flap, moving slowly towards the nearest fire, still holding the baby, who was fast asleep, her first hunger sated.

Neve set aside a half-finished cup of coffee, long since gone cold, and got to her feet, hurrying to meet the Magister. Neither woman spoke, but Maevaris shifted her grip on the baby, relocating her from her position against the mage’s shoulder to the cradle of her arms so that Neve could get a look at her. The little one’s colour was still high from the delivery, although she had been cleaned up considerably. The tiny head was downed with reddish fuzz, her eyes closed, her mouth a delicate rosebud, but the thing that drew Neve’s gaze was her ears. They were a perfect miniature of her mother’s, the tips ever so slightly elongated to a clear point. Neve’s mouth dropped open in shock, her eyes flashing up to Maevaris’s face, before dropping again to stare at the baby’s fragile elvhen ears.

“How?” Without a sound, Neve’s mouth formed the incredulous question. Maevaris shook her head helplessly, shoulders hunching in a very slight shrug. Myrna exited the tent, moving to where Maevaris and Neve stood. Still without a word, Maevaris handed off the baby, nodded to Neve, and headed back into the tent, neither healer willing to leave the Volkarins alone for long. That, more than anything else, made it clear how dire the situation still was.

Hours later, Rook had long since transitioned from unconsciousness to sorely-needed sleep, but as the baby began fussing, hungry again, she roused, blinking blearily in the dim light of the tent. Myrna and Maevaris had continued to alternate who was holding the baby through the night, the forest far too cold for them to even consider putting her down. Both of them eventually settled back down in the tent as the rest of the camp found their bedrolls, and I was Maevaris who moved, bringing the now wailing baby to her newly-awakened mother to nurse. Very gently, the Magister helped Rook to support the newborn, using only her good right arm, positioning and guiding the babe to latch onto a nipple, where she proceeded to suckle voraciously.

Rook gave a shrill gasp, tensing a bit at the unfamiliar and uncomfortable sensation, and Emmrich stirred, mumbling something unintelligible against her hair. She turned her head, nuzzling softly against his shoulder, her eyes falling closed again, listening to the small tender noises of the baby’s feeding. Emmrich opened his eyes gazing in disbelief at his young wife, their babe at her breast. His arms shifted instinctively, his embrace now encompassing the newborn as well, and Maevaris settled back on her heels with a small but satisfied smile, watching them in silence. He kissed Rook's hair tenderly, and she gave a very soft hum of contentment, in spite of the pain she still felt all over her body.

“My Lilya….” His voice was the barest wisp of sound, but the emotion behind it was unmistakable. The only response she could muster was another quiet hum, but it was enough. “My darling… my love… I thought I was going to lose you.” He went on, and she felt her heart squeeze at the pain in his dreadfully weak voice.

“I’m all right….” As weak as his, her voice was also noticeably hoarse from screaming, the sound catching in her throat, making her cough briefly. “You… you came for me.”

“Did you doubt, my love?” He asked brokenly. “You must have known I would come….”

“I hoped….” She replied. “The last time we spoke… I shouted at you….”

“It doesn’t matter… I love you….” He murmured. His eyelids were drooping again, and the baby had fallen asleep, her hunger once again sated, for the moment.

“You both need to rest.” Maevaris put in softly, reaching over to take the baby again, although Rook and Emmrich relinquished their joint hold only reluctantly. “Myrna and I will both be nearby, if you need anything.” Myrna moved in with a waterskin that she offered first to Rook, then to Emmrich, helping each of them to take a few sips.

“Don’t let me go.” Rook whispered, her voice sounding far less painful after drinking.

“Never in my life.” Emmrich assured her fervently. Neither of them had moved more than their arms and heads since waking, and thus they remained, entwined on the forest floor, Emmrich’s back still set against the solidity of the stone altar, as both surrendered once again to their own exhaustion.

Chapter Text

When Emmrich woke next, he had slumped, his spine curled and twisted, wedged between the hard ground, and the even harder edge of the stone altar, still cradling Rook protectively against his chest, cushioning her with his body, but his back and his head were aching mercilessly. He tried to shift slightly, to relieve some of the pressure, and stiffened with a strangled groan, the ache at the base of is spine intensifying into a muscle spasm.

“I was afraid something like that was going to happen.” He heard Myrna’s quiet voice above him, then a gentle surge of healing warmth infused his body, allowing some of the pain to drain away. He was mortified at the moan that escaped him in relief. Her hands were gentle but strong as she helped him to sit up again, supporting Rook so that she would be disturbed as little as possible. “One of your compatriots liberated a cot for you, when you feel up to moving to it; hopefully that will allow you to be more comfortable.” He did not reply, and after a moment, he felt the mouth of an open waterskin gently press against his bottom lip, and he sipped gratefully, finally opening his eyes. It was full daylight.

“How long?…” He asked weakly.

“Ten… maybe twelve hours?…” Myrna replied thoughtfully, still eyeing him with concern.

“And Lilya?…” His eyes dropped to her flaming hair, the warm weight of her an unutterable comfort.

“She’s fine….” Myrna assured him, understanding that even with his wife in his arms, her even breathing and steady heartbeat tangible against his body, he needed to hear the words. “Exhausted… injured… but she will be all right.” Emmrich drew in a deep, slightly shuddering breath, steeling himself before asking the next question.

“And what of… those who took her?” He asked, careful to keep his voice level, mindful of the woman sleeping in his arms. Myrna sighed.

“There were few survivors, but some did escape.” She told him reluctantly.

“Their leader?” He prompted, knowing the answer. She nodded, her frown matching his. He looked down at Rook again, noting the way that the bruising on her face had discoloured and spread, shading into a sickly yellow as the trapped blood aged. Her injured left arm had been strapped to her chest with a few strips of bandaging, but no one had yet figured out how to undo the magic-negating shackles she still wore. Taking in the harm that had been done to her, the sense of failure he felt was crushing. “So she is still out there… and we still do not know what she wants.” He said heavily. Another nod.

“You did what you had to, Emmrich.” Myrna’s voice was still soft but very intense, willing him to believe her words. “She needed you, and you were with her. Without you, she would not have survived the birthing.” Although the obvious intention had been to reassure Emmrich that he had done the right thing, there was nothing remotely reassuring about that last sentence, and Myrna sighed. “Forgive me, that was inconsiderate of me.” She murmured. He dismissed the apology with a shake of his head, his eyes never leaving Rook’s still form. After a moment, Myrna spoke again. “You should hold your child.” She told him softly, and he raised his head, blinking at her in sudden anxiety. “It’s all right, Emmrich, she won’t break.” She told him, with a rare spark of humour. “Babies are quite a bit sturdier than we usually give them credit for.”

He smiled uncertainly, nodding, and together they got Rook repositioned, most of her weight now resting in his lap, her head propped against one long thigh, freeing his arms. When they were ready, Myrna took the baby from Maevaris and brought her over to her Father. His hands were shaking slightly, but he didn’t need any guidance as he took his tiny daughter in his arms, cradling her against his heart, one long-fingered hand cupping the tiny head like the most precious thing he had ever touched. At first, his heart was pounding, and she squirmed a little, with a fussy little whimper. Once he had her, secure in his embrace, he took a couple of calming breaths, and everything eased, as he gazed down at her in wonder.

“I’ve got you, little one.” He whispered fervently. “Papa’s got you.” She settled immediately at the sound of his voice, and he realised with a jolt that she already knew and trusted his voice; it meant safety. He was aware of both healers, watching him, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from his daughter’s perfect face. Myrna knew the instant he noticed the ears. He suddenly went very still, just staring for a moment, then his hands shifted ever so slightly, angling to get a better look, his mouth dropping open in shock. He was shaking again.

“Emmrich….” Myrna’s voice took on a warning edge, and he scowled at her.

“I would never do anything to harm her child.” He said coldly, the dreadful emphasis in his words clear. She leaned forward to take the baby from him, and he let her.

“Emmrich.” Maevaris piped up, her tone mildly reproving, and Emmrich turned his frown on her in turn.

“Your pardon, Magister.” He said, putting deliberate emphasis on her title. “I find myself in need of some air.” Very carefully, he lifted Rook onto the waiting cot, gently arranging the blankets that they had shared over her, in the hopes that she wouldn’t get cold. Then he rose unsteadily to his feet, ducking out of the tent without another word. As he cast his gaze over the rest of the camp, many faces turned to look at him. Whatever they saw in his expression warned most of them off, but as he turned and stepped into the nearby trees, Dorian got to his feet, eyes narrowed, and followed. Emmrich had only gone a few paces into the forest before he stopped, setting his back against a tree, and allowing his legs to fold up under him, shaking visibly. Dorian watched him in silence for a moment, then moved to sit as well, facing his one-time mentor. “What do you want, Pavus?” Emmrich snapped.

“I want to know why you’re swooping around like a strangely angular thundercloud.” Dorian retorted, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “Your lovely wife is safe, you have a beautiful and healthy daughter, and the danger has passed, at least for the moment. So why such fury, Professor?”

“You’ve seen the child?” It was barely a question, but Dorian nodded in confirmation.

“I have. She bears a remarkable resemblance to her Mother, but I shouldn’t think you would consider that a bad thing, given how fond you seem to be of her.” His tone was artificially light, dark eyes sharp on Emmrich’s face. “I thought that might be the issue.” He went on. “But I had hoped I was mistaken. For an extremely intelligent man, you can be incredibly obtuse.” Still seated, Emmrich drew himself up sharply.

“I beg your pardon?” He snarled in deep affront.

“You suspect the child is not yours, because she appears elvhen.” Dorian said, as if explaining to a very dim-witted child. “As if your wife is not every bit as disgustingly besotted of you as you are of her. As if you haven’t both spent the last… four months?… living in the Fade.” He watched Emmrich carefully as he spoke, waiting for the spark of understanding to catch. Emmrich’s eyes widened, and Dorian gave a sharp sigh. “As if you are not one of the foremost experts on the Fade, and one of the discoverers of the true nature of the elves.” He added for good measure.

“I am a fool.” Emmrich muttered bitterly.

“I am not inclined to debate that point with you.” Dorian responded, sounding a little smug. “Please tell me you at least managed to have your crisis of faith while she was still sleeping.” Emmrich nodded, swallowing hard. “Thank the Maker for small mercies. Now, I strongly suggest you return to her before she wakes.” Dorian got to his feet, brushing dead leaves from his robes, and extending a hand to Emmrich. The older mage stared for a moment, then reached up to grasp Dorian’s hand, letting himself be pulled to his feet. Emmrich stumbled slightly, and Dorian held onto him until his lightheadedness passed. The two men walked back to the camp, and Emmrich slipped back into the tent. Myrna, Maevaris, and Rook were all as he had left them, and Myrna gave him a small smile as their eyes met.

“Feeling better?” She asked softly, no hint of mocking in her tone. He nodded heavily.

“I feel like I fell into a carefully laid trap.” He told her, one eyebrow arching, and she had the grace to look a bit sheepish.

“Forgive me.” She murmured sincerely. “I thought it best if you got it out of your system before she woke.” He simply nodded, turning his attention back to Rook’s sleeping form.

“I am a fool.” He said, very softly.

“We are all fools sometimes.” Myrna replied serenely. He sighed, nodding again. The baby was fussing again, and he leaned over, very gently laying a hand on the blanket-wrapped, his long fingers and broad palm covering very nearly her entire body, and she quieted immediately. “She will need feeding again soon.” Myrna told him quietly, and he nodded, taking the baby from her again, cuddling her close.

Rook woke alone in the camp cot. She could hear the subdued voices of the two healers nearby, and closer, a shuddering intake of breath that took her only an instant to identify. Emmrich was crying. She opened her eyes, looking up at him, finding him sitting at her bedside, tears streaming down his face, dripping off his prominent nose, and onto the upturned face of the baby, who he still held with all the tenderness she had come to expect from those big hands. She gazed up at him in silence for a moment, noticing how hard he was fighting to keep quiet, to avoid disturbing her, and she raised a trembling right hand to lightly touch his elbow.

“Emmrich….” She whispered faintly, and he mustered a watery smile, gazing down at her.

“Dearest.” His voice was as tender as his hands, and her answering smile warmed him.

“Are you all right?” She asked softly, and he nodded a bit shakily.

“I should be asking you that.” He tried for humour, but his voice shook. He glanced uncertainly towards the healers, and Maevaris stepped forward, wordlessly helping Rook to sit up, allowing Emmrich to take a position at her back so that she could lean again. He very carefully reached around her, placing their baby in just such a way that she could wrap her good arm around, allowing them to cradle the child between them once again. “She needs a name.” He pointed out gently, after a few minutes passed in silence, just soaking up her presence.

“I had a thought.” She murmured, nuzzling her head back against his chest.

“Tell me.” He urged, his voice a faint rumble against her hair. She leaned forward, turning her head, wanting to watch his face as she told him.

“Elannora.” She said the name with near reverence. “After her grandmother.” She added unnecessarily. Emmrich was staring at her in awe, fresh tears welling in his eyes.

“Darling….” He breathed, uncertain what else to say, unable to put into to words just how deeply touched he was by the suggestion.

“I thought you’d like that.” She sounded a little smug, and he chuckled shakily.

“Elannora.” He whispered, gazing at their daughter. He had, of course, known his mother’s name, but had only ever used it after her death. To him, she had been “Mama” just as Rook was to Manfred, as she would be to their child. “Elannora.” He murmured again, correcting himself. As if roused by the repetition of her newly-bestowed name, the babe stirred, tiny mouth making suckling motions and soft grunting sounds. Without a word, his gentle hands nudged the fabric of the loose sleeping garment she wore aside, baring her breast, and she guided Elannora’s questing lips to her nipple. As before, she gave a faint gasp of discomfort when the baby latched, but relaxed into the sensation quickly. As before, Emmrich watched, his expression enchanted by the sight.

Myrna waited until Elannora had nursed her fill, then she let Maevaris take the baby while she gave Rook a thorough examination. Lucanis had eventually managed to use non-magical means to remove the shackles from her wrists and ankles, but the length of time her damaged wrist had been confined, swelling from her injury compressed by the unyielding metal, had taken a toll. The wrist itself was wrapped as lightly as was possible in soft bandages, aiming only to support the joint as it mended. Her hand was by turns numb and prickling with the pain of damaged nerves. Likewise, her shoulder had also suffered for the delay between the injury and treatment, but Myrna was confident that it at least would make a full recovery, given time. Finally she turned to Emmrich.

“How is your head, Professor?” She asked softly, and he sighed.

“It aches.” He replied. “Too much movement and the dizziness is almost unbearable.” Myrna nodded sympathetically.

“You are on the mend, but I could speed the process somewhat, if you wish.” She offered.

“I am inclined to refuse, given all you have done for us these past few days….” Emmrich said thoughtfully, and Rook shot him an incredulous glance, of which he did take note. “But I think perhaps a small bit of healing wouldn’t come amiss.” Myrna had looked on the verge of arguing, but Emmrich’s conclusion satisfied her, so she wordlessly laid a hand on his cheek, beginning to weave healing. When she had finished, Rook had fallen asleep again, and Emmrich had carefully laid himself down alongside her on the narrow camp cot, holding her close against him.

“Rest, Emmrich.” Myrna murmured, and he nodded only slightly, clearly well on his way to sleep already.

Chapter Text

The return to the Lighthouse was accomplished in stages. First, their makeshift camp was packed up and moved within Arlathan Forest itself, their pace limited by Rook and Emmrich’s weakened conditions. They would break camp following a simple breakfast, hike through the forest for as long as the Volkarins’ limited strength held out, and then make a new camp. Several offers were made to rig up some form of litter, allowing the couple and their newborn to be carried, but neither would countenance the suggestion. When Emmrich pointed out that, given the terrain, and the prevalence of trees, it would likely not have increased the speed of travel by much, only covering the same ground more steadily but less directly, the argument ceased.

Someone had devised a clever sling from the remains of the skirt Rook had been wearing when she was kidnapped, allowing either parent to secure Elannora to their chest, carrying her while leaving their hands free. For Rook, this was necessary, because with her injured shoulder and wrist, she only had one usable arm anyway, but Emmrich found that he also enjoyed being able to “wear” the baby without completely losing the use of his hands. So they took turns, swapping who was wearing from day to day. It took several days for the party to reach the Veil Jumpers’ base camp, at which point they decided to pass one last night before stepping through the Eluvian and making the comparatively short journey through the Crossroads in the morning.

Emmrich had begun to recover, his energy recharging slowly from how badly it had been depleted, the damage to his head mending. Rook, on the other hand, although her physical injuries, while painful, were not terribly serious, the depletion of her energies was far beyond what could be explained by her injuries, even followed by the strain of delivering her child on the forest floor. Of course, this meant that the more Emmrich’s own recovery progressed, the greater did his worry for his wife become.

So, as the rest of the Veilguard slipped easily into the fabric of the main camp, setting up their sleeping area, and then dispersing to help with the various tasks that needed to be done, Emmrich found an out of the way spot to set up Rook’s cot, tucking her in tenderly, and watching over her as she fell asleep almost immediately. In spite of his continued worry, holding Elannora in his arms and watching over Rook as she rested was very soothing. After a while, Neve came and sat with him for a bit, the silence between them companionable. Then Bellara came and asked if she could take Elannora for a bit. He surrendered his hold on his daughter with some reluctance, but he knew that few places were as safe, so he allowed it, his gaze following for a bit as Bellara took her about, introducing her to the Veil Jumpers, who all cooed, and fussed, and made much of her. It warmed his heart to see how Elannora took all this attention with apparent equanimity, even though it had interrupted her nap.

“She’ll be fine.” Neve told him unnecessarily, and he smiled ruefully at her.

“I know.” He replied heavily. “I know I have to let go of her sometimes, but… given all that Rook suffered to bring her here…. It’s… better… when she is with us….” She smiled softly in return, nodding.

“I understand.” She assured him. “I remember….” He felt a great swell of gratitude for her calm reassurance. “It will get easier, once you get used to another piece of your heart dwelling outside of your body.” His breath hitched at that, vividly remembering the yawning feeling of panic he had felt as he and Rook began their relationship, of handing her his heart, and having to trust her to treat it kindly. Only the fact that her own devotion had easily matched his had made that experience bearable. And he knew well that his duty as a parent was to provide reassurance, not to seek it. In spite of Neve’s assurances, he couldn’t imagine a time when he would be content to leave his child in the care of others for days on end, as she and Lucanis did regularly. Rook stirred fitfully, whimpering in her sleep, and he bent over her, very gently smoothing a hand over her hair.

“It’s all right, my love.” He murmured. “You’re safe.” She came awake, looking up at him groggily, and he continued murmuring reassuringly to her.

“Where is my daughter?” Rook demanded, and he immediately recognised the desperate anxiety that gripped her.

“She’s with Bellara. One moment.” He straightened up, pitching his voice to carry. “Bellara.” When the young elf looked around he waved her over urgently. He gently helped Rook to sit up, positioning himself at her back, wrapping his arms around her. Bellara came quickly at his summons, but even so, by the time she reached them, Rook was in tears, her frail form shaking against him. He continued trying to soothe her, even knowing that she would not be comforted until Elannora was back in her arms.

“Oh Rook! Are you okay?” Bellara’s voice rang with concern as she rushed over, immediately handing the baby over. As ever, Emmrich helped Rook to hold their daughter, compensating for her injured shoulder and wrist, his arms steady and strong as they wrapped around both Rook and Elannora.

“Lilya… listen to me, love.” His voice was low and intense. “You’re safe, and Elannora is safe. It’s all right.” He continued to murmur reassurance to her, nuzzling against her cheek and shoulder, and slowly, painfully slowly, she grew still, relaxing against him, although her good hand still clutched Elannora’s blankets desperately. Bellara was still there, heart in her eyes as she watched Emmrich swaying gently, rocking Rook as he helped her to ride out the helpless anxiety rocketing through her. When she finally calmed, her entire body heavy with renewed exhaustion, he looked up, surprised to find Bellara was still there.

“I’m sorry.” She said very quietly, her eyes still on Rook’s tearstreaked face. He shook his head gently.

“You have nothing to apologise for, dear Bellara.” He assured her, still rocking Rook and Elannora against his chest. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“But….” Bellara started to object.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, my dear girl.” He repeated, his voice firm. “She will be all right.” Bellara eyed him searchingly, realising that the deep certainty in his tone stemmed not from any knowledge or insight that she lacked, but rather from the simple fact that any other outcome was completely unacceptable, so much so that his mind flatly refused to consider the possibility. She mustered a wan smile, her gaze dropping once again to Rook’s face, which had gone slack with bone-deep weariness, so close to sleep that she seemed completely unaware of the conversation taking place.

“Why don’t I go get you something to eat?” She suggested, after a moment, and he nodded gratefully. She hurried off, and he bent his head over Rook’s limp form, pressing his lips softly to the juncture of neck and shoulder, the feel of her soft skin against his lips soothing his own worry. As ever, his focus was so strongly on giving her what she needed, that he did his best to suppress anything that was unhelpful in that regard. Taking care of her, letting her feel safe, and loved, and cherished, that was all he had the energy for. He knew that this would not be tenable longterm, but he hoped that once they were safe back at the Lighthouse he would have a chance to breathe, to feel, to process everything that had happened. By the time Bellara returned with a steaming bowl of stew, Emmrich had crumpled, slumping ungracefully onto the cot, his body, as ever, still cradling Rook against him, the baby still held securely in both of their arms, fast asleep. She considered for a moment, then turned away, taking a bite of the stew herself, and heading over the ask the healers to check on the Volkarins in a while.

A final push, the relatively short journey through the Crossroads from the Arlathan Eluvian to the Lighthouse, and the familiar peace of the library welcomed them as they made their way up the stairs. Rook was stumbling with exhaustion, but had enough energy to flatly refuse to be put to bed just yet. Emmrich smiled softly, relieved that she had the strength for that small act of defiance. He settled her on the settee in the library instead, giving those remaining in their party the chance to come and visit with her and the baby properly, for the first time since the rescue. Of course, nearly everyone had had the chance to hold Elannora at some point, but it had always been while Rook was sleeping. This was her first opportunity to watch her friends interact with her daughter, and she reveled in it. Elannora clearly already had a few favourites. In particular, she was mesmerised by the golden accents and jewelry that Taash wore with their armour. Rook briefly tried to dissuade her when she grabbed the pendant made from Shathann’s horn, and started sucking on it contentedly, but Taash chuckled, waving away the concern with good humour.

“It’s okay, Tama wouldn’t mind.” They said lightly, grinning down at the baby. “And it won’t hurt her, so why not?” They added, as an apparent afterthought. Emmrich and Rook exchanged an amused glance. “So, when do we start hunting this Elvhen bitch?” They asked, as casually as if they were asking what was for dinner. Rook stiffened, trying to hide the shaft of panic that shot through her, and Emmrich frowned, putting his arms around her in comfort.

“It’s already begun.” He said softly, his voice level, exuding calm for Rook’s benefit, feeling her tremble against him. “Irelin has mobilised the Veil Jumpers, and our other allies are spreading their nets as far as they can to try to locate any trace of her or her followers. Even Morrigan and Charter are involved, in case they’ve fled south.” He began to stroke Rook’s hair, as she buried her face against his chest. “Once we have a direction, the hunt can begin in earnest.”

“Shit, sorry, were we not supposed to talk about this in front of her?” Taash asked belatedly, and Emmrich simply shook his head. Elannora was starting to fuss, clearly affected by her Mother’s distress, but Taash kept her for the moment, because Emmrich was focused on trying to calm his wife. The hapless Qunari rocked Elannora gently, talking to her. “It’s okay, little one. Sorry I upset your mom, but it’ll be okay.” They said, as comfortingly as they could.

“I’m all right.” Rook said shakily, but her body was still trembling as badly as her voice, drawing a sigh from Emmrich.

“You will be.” He murmured. “I will see to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to keep me from falling apart like this….” Rook protested, her voice breaking as she fought to hold back tears. “I’m supposed to be your partner, not some helpless little girl you have to pick up every time she falls down.

“Lilya.” Emmrich’s voice grew suddenly severe. “If I am not allowed to speak ill of myself, neither are you.” She drew back, startled, looking up at him and finding his eyes sharp on her, clearly distressed. “You are my partner. I could not imagine my life without you. But, my love, you’ve been through so much in such a short time. Of course I wish to be here for you.” His voice was fervent, and she swallowed hard, taken aback by his intensity. Taash continued to hold the baby, clearly wishing to be anywhere but here.

As if summoned, Maevaris arrived. Blue-grey eyes took in the scene — Emmrich, holding Rook tightly, as if to keep the shattered bits of her together until they could start to heal; Rook was close to tears, but fighting grimly against them, somehow feeling as if she had accepted too much care and comfort over the last several days, since Elannora’s birth, and did not deserve any more; Taash, meanwhile, was still holding the increasingly fretful Elannora, looking thoroughly uncomfortable with the whole situation.

“Here, let me take her.” The Magister said softly, leaning over Taash, who gladly relinquished the baby.

“Sorry.” They muttered in parting, ducking their head in Emmrich’s direction, and hurrying from the room.

“What’s happened?” Maevaris asked quietly, soothing Elannora seemingly effortlessly, and Emmrich sighed, not looking up immediately.

“Just some rather large feelings about her abduction, and those responsible for it.” He said softly. Maevaris sighed in turn, but she still took a moment to skim her magic over Rook’s trembling form, making sure that nothing unexpected had gone amiss physically. Dorian entered the library and moved to join them, taking a seat across the round table from Maevaris. Rook had calmed a bit, but was still hiding her face against Emmrich’s shirt.

“Sorry to intrude.” Dorian said, his voice as smooth as always, dark eyes missing nothing. “I’m afraid duty calls, and I will be taking my leave.” Dorian and Maevaris exchanged a long look, without a word needing to be said, and Dorian sighed. “I suppose I shall have to leave you my favourite Magister for at least a few more days, to see that you are settled and well.” He went on, rambling easily, giving Rook the chance to calm herself enough to raise her head, turning it to look at him finally.

“Archon… I never… thanked you….” She began haltingly, only now seeming to fully take in the significance of the fact that the Archon was still with them, close to a week after the actual fight.

“Not another word, my dear.” He told her firmly. “I had to be sure you were all right.” He went on, and both Maevaris and Rook were mystified by the intensity of his tone. Only Emmrich had some idea of what he was referring to. A brief flash of memory, months ago, stepping into Rook’s dream to relive her miscarriage with her, telling Dorian to follow, not knowing what he would find. He recalled holding her in his arms, the enormity of their loss and her pain threatening to crush him. There had a been a flicker at the edge of his perception, a momentary presence, gone before he even raised his head to look. When he and Rook had exited the dream, Dorian had no longer been in the room with him, and it had not occurred to him to wonder at that. Clearly Dorian knew what had happened. He had never mentioned it, and likely never would, but he knew.

“Pavus….” His voice lacked the bite it usually held when he and Dorian spoke, their relationship made up of equal parts respect and rivalry. “Thank you….”

“Of course, Professor.” Dorian responded lightly. “Do try to remember you have a job to come back to, won’t you Mae?”

“I haven’t forgotten, Archon.” She replied, with deliberate formality. “I will see you in a few days.” Dorian nodded, seemingly satisfied, and got to his feet, nodding in parting to Rook, the gesture stopping just short of a bow. Without another word, he turned in a swirl of robes, and headed for the stairs, leading down to the Eluvian. “Now, I think you’ve had enough for one day.” Maevaris said to Rook, who nodded with apparent reluctance.

Emmrich smiled a bit sadly, helping her to her feet, pausing when she sagged, hesitating only briefly before he gathered her into his arms, cradling her against him. She didn’t protest, wrapping her arms softly around his neck, letting her head rest against his shoulder. Maevaris followed, Elannora still in her arms. Once Emmrich had Rook settled on her chaise, a soft blanket tucked tenderly around her, he turned to take the baby, nodding in thanks. He was not surprised to see that the Lighthouse had once again provided what was needed. A beautiful bassinet cradle sat in front of the aquarium wall, is if it had been there all along, and he smiled to himself, bending to lay Elannora down in it.

“You should go find yourself something to eat.” Maevaris told him gently. “I will be here if either of them needs anything.” He nodded, his eyes finding Rook’s sleeping face. “She will be all right, Emmrich.” She assured him, and he sighed, nodding again.

“She’s so strong….” He murmured, and Maevaris wondered if he had even meant to say the words aloud.

“She is.” She agreed, and his startled look told her that she had been correct. “But the time is the worst of it.”

“I won’t be long, darling.” He whispered, although Rook couldn’t hear him.

Chapter Text

Rook slept deep and long, her exhausted body drawing the peace of the fade tight around her. She did not wake when Emmrich brought Elannora to nurse, several times during the night, even when their daughter was fully screaming before he managed to rouse himself enough to go get her. He tried very hard not to fret, but by the time morning came, indistinguishable in the Lighthouse’s unchanging light, he had only slept in fitful bouts of less than an hour at a time, and worry was clawing at him with increasing sharpness. Myrna came to check on them, checking over Rook, then the baby, before turning her attention to Emmrich, frowning as she found him pale, face lined, eyes shadowed with exhaustion and anxiety.

“She hasn’t wakened, not once since we’ve been back.” He told her softly.

“And you haven’t slept.” She countered, arching a dark brow.

“I slept a bit.” He objected, and her other brow rose to join the first, giving him a politely incredulous look. He bowed his head, with a sigh.

“I feel like we keep having this conversation, you and I.” Myrna said, her tone deceptively light. “I know you’re worried for her, and not without reason, but you must take care of yourself as well.” She went on. He opened his mouth to say something, but she forestalled him with an upraised hand. “Let me put it this way: Think, for a moment, of how upset she will be, how devastated, when she wakes, feeling better, only to find that you have worried yourself into illness.” She said bluntly. He blinked at that, frowning deeply. “Don’t you think she has shed enough tears?” She pressed, and he flinched. She waited.

“I’m… afraid….” He admitted haltingly, his gaze moving to Rook’s sleeping face once again. “What if… she needs me, and I’m….” He broke off, mouth working soundlessly for a moment, fighting tears.

“Emmrich.” She cut him off gently, reaching over to touch his cheek. “Now you’re just borrowing trouble. You must rest, my friend.” He didn’t say anything, didn’t look away from his wife’s beloved face. She was usually so animated, her every thought reflecting in her delicate Elvhen features, now at rest she seemed painfully vulnerable, and still so terribly pale. “Emmrich.” Myrna’s voice was only slightly louder, but it drew his focus irresistibly. “Even if she does need you, you will be right here, beside her.” She pointed out, and he nodded reluctantly.

Rook woke in the breathless quiet that likely indicated pre-dawn in the world outside their little pocket of the fade. She felt more rested than she had in days, but her body also felt heavy and weak, her head aching dully. As ever, she was held secure in Emmrich’s arms, his own breathing and body relaxed in exhausted sleep. She was a little startled to find Elannora clasped securely against her bare chest, the baby’s cheek cushioned against her Mother’s breast, and she smiled tenderly as she gazed at her daughter. Enraptured as she had been by the very existence of this tiny girl since her birth, Rook realised that she had not had the opportunity to take the time to simply look at her yet.

As she did so, she finally noticed what everybody else already had — her daughter’s perfect Elvhen ears. Her mouth dropped open in shock as she stared, noticing as well that Elannora’s eyes were noticeably slanted, even while closed, as well. She glanced uncertainly at Emmrich’s sleeping form, but elected not to disturb him; knowing how he worried, the fact that he was sleeping at all was a good sign — or perhaps a very bad one. Elannora woke, staring up at her Mother in apparent wonder, and Rook smiled tenderly, finding herself talking to the tiny person in her arms in full earnest. A light tap on the door drew her attention, quiet enough that if she had been sleeping it likely would not have disturbed her.

“Come in.” She kept her voice low as well, just loud enough to carry, but gentle enough to avoid waking Emmrich. Maevaris let herself quietly into the room, smiling as her eyes fell on Rook.

“You’re looking better.” She said softly, and Rook smiled in return. “How are you feeling?”

“Better….” She said slowly. “Still tired, but my mind is finally clear….” Maevaris nodded approvingly. “How long was I out?”

“About a day and a half.” The older mage replied.

“And Emmrich?” Rook prompted.

“About half of that time.” The smile became sad as Maevaris looked at Emmrich. “His anxiety has been working overtime; be gentle with him.” She said seriously.

“I’m always gentle with him.” Rook replied with a slight smile.

“I suppose you are, at that.” Maevaris conceded. “It’s the world that insists on being cruel, to both of you.” Rook gave a rueful chuckle.

“We’ll get through.” She said softly. Emmrich stirred, and she pressed a soft kiss to his temple. He gave a contented sigh as his eyes opened, blinking at her, a weary smile coming to his face. “I didn’t mean to wake you, love.” She murmured, and he shook his head.

“You did not.” He replied, smiling gently. Maevaris watched them in silence. Rook shifted her hold on Elannora, wincing as she used her bad arm to help, angling so that one of the baby’s tiny ears was pointed towards Emmrich.

“Had you noticed…?” She began uncertainly.

“I had.” Emmrich cut her off very gently, reaching around to steady her left arm, taking Elannora’s weight in his own hand. “Dorian theorises that it has to do with the time we spent in the Fade while you were carrying her.” She considered that for a moment in silence, head tilting in thought, nodding slowly.

“That does make sense, doesn’t it…?” She smiled wanly up at him, a smile he returned sheepishly. She went still, frowning. “You wondered, didn’t you?” She said with sudden realisation.

“And Dorian knocked the wondering right out of me.” He replied dryly, making her chuckle.

“Not literally…?” She asked uncertainly, and he shook his head, chuckling in turn.

“No, no blows were exchanged.” He assured her lightly. “He simply pointed out that I was being an idiot and should have known better.” There was a bitter edge to his voice, and she frowned a little, hearing it.

“Emmrich….” She objected, and he sighed.

“Forgive me, dearest, I had not intended to trouble you with this.” He said softly, and she shook her head. The conversation was interrupted by another soft knock at the door. “Come in.” Emmrich raised his voice, unable to conceal his relief at the interruption. Lucanis and Teia came into the room together, and Emmrich and Rook exchanged a startled look, having expected the Crows to have already taken their leave. Rook found herself wondering where all the extra people had been sleeping.

“The Lighthouse has provided us with an entire new set of rooms off the dining hall.” Lucanis informed her, already knowing the direction her thoughts would have taken.

“It’s barely more than a dormitory, but it gets the job done.” Teia put in with a rueful smile. “We’ll be returning to Treviso today.” She went on, and Rook gave her a grateful smile. “We need to get back to work.”

“I will go with them, so I can bring Caz and Manfred back with me.” Lucanis added, and she turned her smile to him.

“Thank you.” Emmrich said softly. “Please give our best regards to your Grandmother.” Lucanis’s expression sobered, and he nodded.

“She may insist on coming back with me as well.” He warned, and both Volkarins chuckled at that, recognising the truth in it. Once the two Crow leaders had taken their leave, Maevaris excused herself as well, giving Emmrich and Rook a chance to get dressed, so they could join the rest of the Veilguard for breakfast. Bellara and Neve were on kitchen duty, and their smiles were bright as Rook and Emmrich came into the dining hall, Rook carrying Elannora in her sling, taking a moment to make sure Rook was settled comfortably at the head of the table, before moving to see if he could help with the meal. The others joined them, Myrna and Maevaris arriving from the direction of the new dormitory wing off the dining hall, Taash and Davrin from their respective rooms. Davrin moved to sit at Rook’s left hand, looking her over a bit critically before speaking.

“You’re looking better.” She gave him a wan smile, the weariness still visible, but her eyes truly clear for the first time since her rescue. “If you have some time after you’ve eaten, Assan has been worried about you, but he’s gotten a bit big to be spending a lot of time in the library.” Her eyes widened at that, a vague memory striking her of Assan’s unmistakable alarm call penetrating the haze of pain and terror that had swamped her, her rescuers arriving just as her labour had started in earnest.

“It was you and Assan that found me.” She said with complete certainty, and he smiled, nodding anyway.

“Assan found the camp.” He said simply, deciding it was best not to point out that once they were close enough, anybody could have followed her screams. She bit her lip, pressing her eyes closed, trying very hard not to remember, a fine tremor shaking her shoulders.

“Darling?…” Emmrich returned to her side just in time to see this, his arm coming around her, and she sagged against him without meaning to.

“I’m all right….” She told him faintly. “We were just talking… about what happened.” She felt him shift against her as he shot a sharp look at Davrin, and she sighed, opening her eyes and shaking her head. “It’s not like that, Emmrich.” She said before he could speak. “I haven’t spoken to Assan since you all rescued me…. He was the one who found me…. It just… brought up some memories.” Emmrich sighed, both arms around her now, embracing her and the baby both,

“We’ll go see Assan after breakfast.” He assured her, and she nodded gratefully.

Once breakfast was finished, Emmrich and Davrin took over cleanup without a word, allowing Bellara and Neve to sit with Rook for a while, over cups of coffee or tea. Neve took a turn holding Elannora, allowing Myrna to give Rook’s wrist a shoulder a gentle examination, and then show Rook a series of stretches that she could start doing to start restoring some mobility to the arm. Rook’s jaw was set as the older necromancer guided her through the simple movements, doing her best to suppress the hisses of pain that some of them caused. Emmrich did his best to focus on what he was doing, but nobody missed the worried glances he sent in her direction. Once the bulk of the dishes were done, the dining table cleared of everything but the cups the ladies were still sipping from, Emmrich returned to the table, and the small group still gathered around his wife and daughter.

“Shall we?” He offered quietly, offering Rook his hand, and she smiled up at him, letting him pull her to her feet.

“I’ll hold her to introduce her to Assan, but then, I think maybe you should take Elannora for a bit.” She told him as they headed out into the central courtyard. He nodded, seeing the logic of her suggestion. Assan was not immediately in evidence, so Rook set a finger and thumb between her teeth and gave a sharp whistle. Assan’s answering call came from the terrace along the front of the Lighthouse tower itself, and a few seconds later, the griffon himself swooped down to land in front of her. “Assan, I wanted you to meet my daughter.” She told him seriously. “This is Elannora.” She carefully lifted Elannora out of her sling, gritting her teeth at the pain in her injured wrist and shoulder, holding her up so that Assan could inspect her closely.

“We have to treat her very gently while she’s small.” Davrin put in. “But when she learns to walk, you’ll be able to play with her.” Assan gave a low squawk of greeting, and Elannora stared at him solemnly, waving a tiny fist that had worked its way loose from her swaddling blankets. Emmrich came up close beside Rook, gently taking Elannora from her, settling her back into the carrying sling, and then removing the whole thing from Rook and wrapping it around his own body instead. Assan watched all this with interest, waiting until the older man took a step back before approaching Rook more closely, rubbing his great bird’s head against her chest, allowing her to scratch his feathered brow ridge in the way she knew he liked, drawing a deep contented purr.

“I haven’t thanked you for saving me.” She told him, her voice dropping to a tender murmur.

She wrapped her good arm around his neck as best she could, stepping even closer, leaning into him where feathers became fur, and his massive wings moved to enfold her, hugging her back in his own way, still purring. Emmrich stood back, watching as Rook and Assan had their moment, sighing softly, as it became obvious that Rook was on the verge of falling asleep, and Assan was not yet willing to let her go. Instead, he gently arranged her, eagle-taloned forelimbs careful as he drew her down into the curl of his body, one wing half-spread over her like a blanket. As he arranged them, his huge, warm body cradling her, she relaxed into it, letting exhaustion carry her away yet again.

Davrin and Emmrich stood by, watching in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Even as they stood there, a small arrangement of patio seating materialised, tucked against the stairs the led up to Davrin’s room, giving the two men someplace to sit comfortably, where they could keep an eye on Rook and Assan, while the former napped. They sat in companionable silence that was eventually broken by the tower door flying open, its strange magical soundproofing giving way all at once to Caterina Dellamorte’s shrill voice speaking in rapidfire Antivan.

She was seated in an elaborate wheelchair, which Lucanis was pushing. However, she still carried her corvid-headed walking stick, which she appeared to be using rather indiscriminately to rap knuckles and poke at whatever body parts she could reach. Teia walked at her side, holding Caz, and carrying on the conversation with the older woman, and Viago walked on her other side, his eyes darting anxiously, in spite of the fact that few places were as safe as the Lighthouse. Rook stirred, but did not yet wake, and both Davrin and Emmrich leapt to their feet, hurrying to meet the arriving party, trying to gesture them into quiet. Caterina scowled, the walking stick lashing out, but Teia quickly moved to intercept the blow, redirecting the blow with a skillful twist to thud harmlessly against the curve of her rump.

“Nonna!” She reproved, her voice own quieting, but retaining its sharpness. “Lilya está durmiendo.” Of course she had taken in the situation at a glance, and Emmrich shot her a grateful look, quite certain that without her intervention that blow would have landed on him. Manfred caught up somewhat belatedly, hissing excitedly, and Emmrich hurried to quiet him too. Rook stirred again, whimpering faintly, and everybody fell abruptly silent. Assan gave a low growl, as if reprimanding everyone for having disturbed her. Emmrich guided the others over to join him and Davrin in the new seating.

“How are you, Señora Dellamorte?” He asked Caterina with quiet courtesy.

“Soy….” She began, then cut off sharply, with a hiss of irritation. “I… fine….” She said haltingly, but her eyes gleamed with quiet fury.

“Has your language been affected by your injury?” Emmrich asked, frowning in concern, and she nodded shortly.

“Trade is… difícil.” She told him, resorting to Antivan again by the end of the sentence, finding it too difficult to find the right word in Trade, and the concession obviously doing nothing to improve her mood.

“My sympathies.” Emmrich murmured sincerely, and she shot him a sharp, suspicious look. A look that promised retribution if his sympathy should be too close to pity. Emmrich’s compassion was vast, but never pitying. “Is there any lingering pain?” He asked next, and again she nodded. “May I?…” He asked, moving to kneel in front of her chair, half-reaching towards her face with one hand. She hesitated briefly, then nodded yet again. He gently cupped her wizened cheek with a gentle hand, magic injecting healing warmth into her, soothing some of the constant ache that had been with her for the week or more since the attack.

“Gracias….” She whispered, sagging a little in her chair. He said nothing, continuing to work, channeling the magic with meticulous control, careful not to overwhelm her in his eagerness to help. After a few minutes, he let the magic subside, watching her carefully as she closed her eyes in evident relief. “La niña?” She asked at length, opening her eyes, some of the anger gone from her gaze. He smiled, carefully extracting Elannora from her sling and handing her over. Caterina’s hands were steady, as she cradled her.

“This is Elannora.” Emmrich introduced her, smiling softly as he watched them. Manfred hurried over with an excited hiss, staring at his baby sister in fascination.

“Nora….” He muttered affectionately, and Emmrich turned a fond smile to him.

“Elannora.” He repeated slowly, and Manfred gave another pleased hiss, nodding hard enough his teeth rattled.

“Nora!” The whisp crowed, and this time Rook did wake, blinking in confusion, as she found herself nestled on a bed of Assan’s fur and feathers and body. She blinked again, taking in the small crowd that sat nearby on a patio that hadn’t existed before. Her gaze fell on Caterina, and she scrambled unsteadily to her feet, earning a squawk of protest from Assan as she moved to greet the aged assassin.

“Caterina…. Forgive me for not greeting you when you arrived.” She murmured, taking the chair next to the former First Talon, which Lucanis had quickly vacated at her approach. “How are you?” Once again, Caterina had a false start in Antivan, which made her scowl, before giving Rook the same unconvincing claim that she was fine as she had given Emmrich. “I am so sorry for what happened to you.” Rook said, her voice trembling with emotion.

“No cariño, no digas eso!” Caterina burst out, growling in frustration. “No!” She repeated with dreadful emphasis. “You, cariño… invitada… taken…. Hurt!…” The words came slowly, a broken mixture of Antivan and Trade, as she fought to express herself, to beg forgiveness for the failure she perceived.

“It wasn’t your fault, Caterina.” Rook told her firmly. “You did everything you possibly could have to protect me from harm!” She reached out hesitantly, her hand shaking a little as it moved to cup Caterina’s cheek very softly. “They could have killed you….” She trailed off, fighting back the urge to sob, and Caterina stared at her, taken off guard by the depth of emotion.

“Cariño… sin lágrimas… not for me….” She reached up to cover Rook’s hand with her own, and the two women stared at each other for a long moment. Emmrich and Lucanis exchanged a startled look, and Teia was looking back and forth between Caterina and Rook with an expression of abject disbelief. Even Viago was watching the proceedings with wide eyes, hardly daring to breathe.

“You think you don’t deserve care, because bad things happen to people you care about.” Rook’s voice was low, intense, her bright green eyes holding Caterina’s grey-blue ones. “But that’s not how it works! It’s not something you have to earn! Yes, I was hurt, but so were you, and that matters!”

Caterina’s fingers twitched tight around Rook’s, clutching her hand, breath starting to come short as she fought for control. Rook just continued to watch her with compassion, as though willing her to accept the truth of her words. Then, all at once, Caterina’s self-control crumbled. She closed her eyes, tears spilling over, great, heaving sobs tearing from somewhere deep in her chest, still clutching Rook’s hand against her face. Rook spared a momentary glance at Emmrich, who moved to take Elannora from Caterina’s unresisting grasp, allowing his wife to focus on Caterina, and the tears she had refused to shed for decades. When it finally subsided, the flood of emotion left both women drained, exhausted. Both of them slumped in their chairs, but where Rook was content to relax into the sensation, Caterina, as always, tried to fight the tiredness that seemed determined to swamp her.

“Come, Nonna, we’ll find you a bed.” Teia told her simply. Caterina scowled, but did not argue, and the younger woman wheeled her away.

“Shall we seek your bed as well, darling, or would you prefer to curl up with Assan again?” Emmrich asked with a hint of humour. Rook looked over to where the griffon was still watching her with evident concern, and she nodded, a soft smile coming to her pale face. Emmrich chuckled, helping her to her feet and guiding her over to her “bed”.

Chapter Text

This time when Rook woke, it was to the sensation of Emmrich’s fingers running gently through her hair. Assan was still coiled about her, and she turned her head with a drowsy smile, nuzzling her face into the deep pile of his feathers, humming in soft contentment. She slowly became aware of the sound of Elannora fussing, and sighed, still not opening her eyes, even as she rearranged the loose drape of her neckline, freeing a breast. Almost immediately Elannora was positioned for her, and her good arm came around to support her daughter as she began to nurse voraciously. After a moment, she slowly opened her eyes, noticing with a start that the ambient light that had been the same in the Lighthouse no matter the time of day, had dimmed, as if someone had realised that she would rest better without the perpetual appearance of broad daylight that had been unchanging for years in this place.

“It’s… twilight?” She asked haltingly, staring about her. There were no stars, no moons, only the same sourceless light that had always been there, in this strange little pocket of the fade, but the light had definitely shifted, darkening, drawing somehow closer to the ground.

“It does seem to be.” Emmrich replied, sounding bemused. “Who knew that a place without a sun could have sunset.” He pointed, and she turned her head to see a swirl of pinks, deepening into purple and finally deep dark blue off in the distance beyond their island.

“It’s beautiful.” She whispered.

“Not half so beautiful as you, my dear.” He murmured, making her blush.

“Flatterer.” She said fondly.

“I speak nothing but the truth.” He replied with deep sincerity. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and seeing you here, with our child at your breast….” He trailed off, the adoration in his eyes more than making up for the loss of words. Her eyes were still heavy and shadowed with weariness, but they reflected his love back, as she gazed at him. The moment was interrupted by the door to the dining hall opening, and Lucanis coming out to join them.

“Dinner is ready, whenever you are.” He said softly, an incongruously tender smile coming to his face as his gaze fell on Elannora’s downy head, where she continued to nurse. “Caterina and the other Talons are still here, so I made empanadas, and churros.” He added, grinning as Rook perked up visibly. She stayed where she was until Elannora had finished her feeding, then Emmrich took the baby, setting her in her sling so that he could reach for Rook’s good hand and help her to her feet. He stepped close, putting an arm around her waist as she took a moment to catch her balance.

“Darling?…” He murmured, and she drew a shuddering breath.

“I’ll be fine once I’ve had something to eat.” She told him a bit breathlessly. He frowned, keeping her close against his side as they made their way slowly into the dining hall to join the others. Assan watched them go in silence, his sharp eyes seeming to take in everything. All eyes snapped to them when they entered the dining hall, but no one said anything until he had Rook settled in her chair at the head of the table, sinking into the chair at her right hand as always.

“Rook?…” Bellara’s voice was soft and uncertain, and Rook looked at her in questioning surprise. “Are you okay?… You’re really pale… I mean… even for you.” She blurted out, anxiety overriding whatever tact she usually displayed. Rook frowned, glancing at Emmrich, who she found watching her, his own worry unguarded in his eyes.

“I’m all right….” Rook said a little shakily. “Just tired… and a bit dizzy….” Lucanis wordlessly placed a full plate in front of her, then brought the platters to the table for everybody else to serve themselves from. Rook dug in immediately, grinning even as she burned her tongue on the fried dough and molten filling of beans and cheese. At the other end of the table, Caterina was doing likewise, although her empanadas probably contained either beef or sausage. Myrna and Maevaris sat together near the far end of the table, their heads close together, their gazes never straying far from Rook and Emmrich.

Once most people had finished eating, Rook found herself lingering at the table with a smaller group, over churros and cioccolata calda, which she discovered were lovely when the former was dipped into the latter before eating. Bellara and Neve both laughingly tried it, pronouncing the combination to be delicious. Caterina and Lucanis watched judgmentally, muttering back and forth in Antivan, clearly condemning Rook and her companions for barbarians of some kind. Emmrich had eaten his fill, but was unwilling to let Rook out of his sight, so he also remained at the table, watching over his wife as she enjoyed her dessert. He noticed that Maevaris and Myrna also remained in the room, although at a remove from the group partaking of the sweets, observing, just as he did.

When Rook had eaten her fill, Emmrich moved to help her to her feet. She seemed less unsteady on her feet, but was still quite grateful to lean on his supporting arm, a fact which caused him no small bit of concern. He nodded to the two healers at the far end of the table, having no doubt that they would follow as he and Rook slowly made their way across the courtyard towards the Lighthouse tower. Once they had reached the meditation chamber, and Emmrich had Rook settled on her chaise longue, Myrna came forward to look her over.

“How are you feeling, my dear?” The Elder Watcher asked kindly, and Rook sighed.

“I feel like I should be getting better, but I’m not.” She said, her frustration evident. “Like I do nothing but sleep, but I’m just so tired….”

“You’ve been through a lot.” Maevaris put in. “The first few months with a newborn are never easy, but given everything that’s happened to you, I’m afraid it was always going to take longer for you to recover.” Emmrich sank down beside her on the chaise, an arm around her, drawing her gently to lean against his side, which she did, somewhat reluctantly. “I’m afraid I do have to return to Minrathous.” Maevaris went on, frowning a bit. “I’d like to stay longer, but Dorian is right, I have a job to do there.”

“We quite understand.” Emmrich spoke up. “We are grateful for all of the assistance you have offered.” Rook merely nodded in agreement.

“I will stay a bit longer.” Myrna added. “Vorgoth can continue to do without me for the moment.” That more than anything else told Emmrich that he was right to still be concerned, in spite of Maevaris’s reassuring words, which were clearly for Rook’s benefit, in an attempt to temper the feelings of inferiority that seemed to be plaguing her since giving birth.

“Now Emmrich.” Maevaris addressed him directly, and he looked at her in surprise, her gaze holding his intently. “Remember what I’ve told you about healing.” She told him. “Be careful you don’t give too much. If need be, there are other healers you can call on. Remember that.” He nodded solemnly.

“I will remember.” He assured her, with equal seriousness. She nodded in satisfaction.

“Take care of yourselves.” She said in parting, addressing both of them again. Rook was drowsing lightly against Emmrich’s shoulder, and he smiled a little sadly, tilting his head to nuzzle his chin against her hair with a soft sigh. “She’ll be okay, Emmrich.” The two healers left the room together, and Emmrich very gently arranged Rook to lie properly on the chaise, moving to lay Elannora in her bassinet, then returning to his wife, watching over her as he always did while she slept.

He hadn’t moved when she woke, although it was deep into the night by then. He was perched on the edge of the chaise beside her, one hand stroking very softly over and over and over her hair, and she blinked up at him with a drowsy smile.

“You haven’t slept….” She accused, although the sleepy tone of voice made her words lack bite.

“Darling….” He murmured, still stroking her hair softly. “I’m all right. I just….” He trailed off, frowning thoughtfully. “Watching you rest is very calming….” He concluded at length, and her heart melted as she gazed at him.

“And with everything that’s happened, you’ve needed the calming.” Rook’s perception was unerring. “But I’ve been so wrapped up in myself that I haven’t even noticed.”

“Darling!” He protested, bending to press his brow against hers, his lips a mere hairsbreadth from hers. “Your only job right now is to feed Elannora, and rest, and recover, as best you can.” He told her fervently. “And most of all, you are not to waste energy fretting over me!” She frowned, leaning back enough to fix him with the weight of her stare.

“I don’t believe you get to tell me what I am and am not to do.” She informed him, and he looked startled. “How would you feel if I tried to forbid you from worrying any further?” She asked, keeping her tone reasonable. His eyes widened, and she nodded heavily, seeing his understanding. “I love you.” She told him firmly, then leaned up to kiss him deeply. He melted into the kiss, feeling her good arm come around him, feeling a surge of desire such as he had not experienced since their last night at Villa Dellamorte. Her mouth was soft on his, her body pressing close, as she kissed him, her fingers tangling in his hair.

“Darling….” He murmured again, feeling the heavy warmth beginning to pool in his lower belly, the arousal stiffening his shaft so quickly it drew a ragged groan. “Are you sure you….” She silenced him gently with fingertips pressed to his lips, followed immediately by her mouth again.

“Shhh….” She whispered against his lips. “This isn’t about me….” Clumsy with only the one truly usable hand, she fumbled at the fastenings of his trousers, and he chuckled at her eagerness, hands coming down to help. “I want… you naked….” She told him bluntly, a bit breathless with excitement. He smiled, his hands coming up to frame her face with his long fingers.

“Only if I can have the same.” He replied gently. She stiffened slightly, and a firm index finger under her chin brought her face up so he could look her in the eye again. “Turnabout seems fair.” He pointed out, and she drew a shaky breath, nodding slowly. He took his time with his buttons, baring chest and torso, while she watched in open admiration. He had, of course, aged in the time they had been together, his body hair frosted with silver, his trim physique softening around the edges. None of that mattered - she wanted him desperately. “You look at me as if you want to devour me….” He whispered, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

“Oh, I do….” She growled, her gaze heavy with promise, and he found himself blushing. A slow smile spread her lips at the sight.

“My turn.” He said, striving for calm, laying her back and slowly stripping her much simpler garments from her body. Although it had been nearly two weeks since Elannora’s birth, her belly still showed a pronounced swell, the soft skin loosening as her womb began to very slowly return to its former size. A few spots showed spiderwebs of reddish lines, almost like very fine scarring, indicating where the skin was stretched beyond its own elasticity in the final months of her pregnancy. Her hands fluttered over the marks, teeth worrying at her lower lip, eyes avoiding his gaze. He didn’t say a word, merely took her hands and brought them up to the relatively fresh scarring across his chest, where the claws of the pride demon in the Necropolis had torn through him. His meaning was clear - the scars of her ordeal were of no concern to him, beyond the suffering they may have caused her. She kissed him again, urgently, her hand sliding down between their bodies to palm his erection, stroking it gently.

“I haven’t tasted you in months….” She whispered hotly, her mouth leaving his, as she pushed him back against the raised arm of the chaise, crawling her way, one-handed, towards his waist.

“You don’t have to do that, darling.” He murmured, even as his hands came down to rest on her bent head like a benediction. She didn’t answer, apart from a throaty chuckle, leaning in to kiss the head of his rigid cock. He caught his breath at the sensation, and she grinned up at him, very slowly licking her lips. He shivered at the promise gleaming in her eyes, his own eyes falling closed with a faint moan as she slowly licked his quivering flesh.

“Let me make you feel good, my love.” She purred, her breath washing, warm, over his straining shaft. Without his willing it, his hips moved, arching towards her with a ragged gasp, and she chuckled again, lips nuzzling against his swollen glans, very slowly starting to take him into her mouth. He shuddered, hands clenching, gripping the cushions beneath him, to steady himself, as the moist heat of her began to engulf his shaft. She pressed forward until he felt his tip bump against the back of her throat, and he felt her throat convulse as she suppressed a gag, holding him there, a hum of satisfaction causing her mouth to vibrate around him. Then she tilted her head back slightly, and began to swallow him down. He stiffened, trying to hold his hips still, even as he back arched sharply with a strangled groan. The sudden movement caused her to gag again, but she pushed him deeper, even as her body tried to rebel. In spite of her obvious discomfort, the physical sensation nearly caused him to come out of his skin, his gasp turning into another groan, one hand moving to grip her hair tightly, holding her in place as his hips jerked sharply.

Her fingers dug into his thigh, holding on for dear life as she took him all the way in, a muffled choking sound escaping her, spittle beginning to gather at the corners of her mouth. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking at him, her tongue working somewhere near the base of his shaft, and he closed his eyes, the sight of his flesh buried in her mouth, her lips stretched tight around his girth, almost enough to undo him. He let his head fall back, hips moving in time as she began to bob her mouth and open throat upon his member. The pace she set was slow at first, allowing her to catch her breath a bit, but she sped up as his hips bucked more urgently, his own breath coming short, as he hurtled towards a release that seemed inevitable.

“Lilya… I….” He tried to warn her, his voice coming out harsh and urgent, and she dove deep, her hand still gripping his thigh, as she felt him spew deep into her throat. His hips continued to rock erratically as he spent himself, chest heaving as he gasped for breath. She pulled off him, choking down the urge to gag again, slumping atop him, her head resting on his lower belly as she panted. The hand that had been gripping her hair released, and he began to stroke her head soothingly. “Darling… my darling….” He mumbled dreamily, as he petted her tousled hair. She responded with a drowsy hum of contentment, and he smiled, very gently drawing her up into his embrace, letting her head rest against his shoulder, as he held her close. For the first time since her abduction, he felt completely calm, the peace she had brought him so much deeper than mere sexual satisfaction, and he wrapped that feeling about himself, holding her against his heart, as they drifted off to sleep together.

Chapter Text

Emmrich sat quietly in a meeting with the rest of the Veilguard, Strife, Elek, and Rana. It was the first time he had willingly left Rook’s side since their return to the Lighthouse, and although he knew that Myrna was sitting with her, in case she or Elannora needed anything, he couldn’t help fretting, struggling a bit to focus on the discussion at hand.

“She must have allies in Minrathous, to have laid the false trail we were following when I sent you into the catacombs!” Rana exclaimed, her frustration evident. Elek simply nodded, his expression showing matching frustration, his own contacts and informants having had no more success than Rana had in locating the conspirators in Tevinter.

“We’ve thoroughly searched that ritual site in Arlathan.” Strife put in. “Obviously the survivors all made their way elsewhere by magic, so there are no tracks to follow. We’re combing the forest, of course, but given that none of us had ever seen that ritual site before, I don’t have high hopes. The forest is just too big!”

“What of other disturbances?” Emmrich asked suddenly. All eyes turned to him, expectant, waiting for him to go on. “When we fought the Gods, most of the things we dealt with, no matter how distant, or seemingly unrelated, turned out to be connected. What if this Forgotten One has followers far-flung enough for the situation to be similiar?” There were thoughtful nods all around the table. Taash raised their hand slowly, looking uncertain.

“There’s something….” They began, frowning. Emmrich nodded for them to continue. “Rowan says there’s some kind of weird spirit stuff happening on the Rivain coast. We know that when Anaris was messing around with the Veil in Arlathan, there was a lot of weird spirit stuff, so maybe this Forgotten One is messing with the Veil in Rivain?” Sometimes the Veilguards were startled by the depth of Taash’s perception. They always behaved and spoke like they possessed no subtlety at all, but their thoughts were another matter entirely, and they tended to frame those insights as if they were the most simple and obvious things imaginable.

“Sounds like a solid lead.” Emmrich said, thinking reluctantly of the fact that he was the team member most suited to pursue it. A whisper of magic, and the Caretaker materialised between the dining table where the all sat and the fire, the flicker of its manifestation drawing all eyes.

“Dweller, a missive has been received from the South.” The spirit intoned, extending an envelope to Emmrich, the missive floating unerringly from its hand to land on the table in front of him.

“Thank you.” Emmrich told it, picking up the envelope, and turning it over to find an Orlesian crest he did not immediately recognise, although it did bear some resemblance to the Veil Jumpers’ emblem. He tilted the wax seal towards Strife with a questioning glance, and the dark-skinned elf’s eyes widened.

“The Marquise of the Dales.” He identified it without hesitation. “The Empress’s lover, Briala.” Emmrich’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and he broke the seal, withdrawing the letter and unfolding it quickly. His eyes moved rapidly as he took in the message, a frown creasing the skin between his immaculate brows.

“It appears there is also some strange activity in the Dales.” He said thoughtfully. “An influx of elves from elsewhere, their motives unknown for the moment.” Bellara and Davrin exchanged a glance.

“We should go check it out.” Bellara said quickly. “See if we can figure out where they came from?” Davrin nodded ready agreement.

“And I’ll go with you to Rivain.” Taash told Emmrich, as though it was a foregone conclusion. He nodded gratefully, then turned to Neve and Lucanis.

“We’ll stay with Rook and Elannora.” Neve assured him, before he could say anything.

“Somebody has to.” Lucanis agreed, and he nodded gratefully.

“I’d best go tell her.” Emmrich sighed, getting to his feet. “Excuse me.” He knew that the others would continue discussing their plans, but for now, he did not need to be present. He left the dining hall, making his way across the courtyard to the Lighthouse proper. His steps were brisk but unhurried, as he climbed the stairs that led to their rooms, tapping lightly on the door of the meditation chamber to announce his presence before letting himself in. They were as he had left them—Rook drowsing on her chaise, Myrna sitting close by, her nose deep in a book, Elannora fast asleep in her bassinet. He smiled softly at the sight, stepping quietly to stand over his sleeping daughter, gazing at her with the same rapt fascination as he always had, since the first time he beheld her outside of her mother’s womb. She was already noticeably bigger than she had been at birth, although still so tiny, so fragile.

“How is she so perfect?…” He hadn’t meant to ask the question aloud, his voice barely more than a whisper, but Myrna chuckled softly in response. He flushed, glancing at her. She was eyeing him with amusement over the top of her book, but she said nothing. “Forgive me, I’d no wish to disturb you, my Lady.” He murmured, but her amused look did not fade. He sighed, changing the subject. “I must make a trip to Rivain.” He told her without preamble. “Apparently there is some form of unrest amongst the spirits there, and the seer, Rowan, has requested our assistance. The interference of Forgotten Ones has caused turmoil in the Fade before, so we hope there may be some connection to the being we seek” She nodded slowly, listening.

“She will not be pleased to be left behind as you go off into possible danger.” She said mildly.

“No… she will not.” He agreed heavily. “Will you stay, until I am able to return?” He asked humbly, and she nodded without an instant’s hesitation. “Lucanis and Neve will remain as well, they will see to anything you may require.” He went on, but his eyes were fixed on Rook now. “You should get some rest, my Lady.” He told Myrna softly. “We will not be leaving until morning, and I will stay with her until then.” She nodded, getting to her feet, and leaving the room in silence. Emmrich moved to take the chair that the healer had vacated, settling in to watch over Rook’s sleeping form. He couldn’t bear to wake her with this news, so he simply waited in silence until Elannora’s next feeding, or her own body woke her.

It was Elannora’s fussing that eventually woke Rook. She vaguely heard Emmrich’s voice, murmuring soothingly, as he approached where she lay. Elannora’s fretful whimpers were also getting louder, making it clear that he was bringing her with him. She opened her eyes with a sigh, extending her good arm towards them. Emmrich smiled, seeing her awake, settling himself beside her, and together they positioned Elannora to feed, practice making the joint positioning effortless. He remained quiet while Elannora fed, but by the time she had had her fill, he was aware that Rook was peering at him, eyes narrowed.

“Something on your mind?” She asked him pointedly, and he sighed, taking Elannora from her.

“There’s something gone awry with the spirits on the Rivain coast.” He began, and she frowned. “Seer Rowan has asked for assistance, so Taash and I will be going to investigate.”

“Why you?” She asked bluntly. He explained Taash’s rationale to her patiently, and he saw her shoulders slump as she saw the sense in it.

“We won’t stay away any longer than necessary, but if this can give us a place to start our search for the person who did this to you….” He trailed off, and she nodded reluctantly. She was fighting tears, and he gazed at her with unutterable tenderness. “It will be all right, dearest.” He whispered, caressing her cheek with gentle fingers. She ducked her head, wordlessly burying her face at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He could feel the wetness of her tears, but could not see her face. He carefully shifted Elannora so that he could wrap his arm tightly around Rook’s frail shoulders, holding her tightly, as she wept. The only sound was her shuddering breaths, as she refused to give voice to her sobs, and he felt tears of his own threatening, at how hard she was fighting to appear strong.

“My brave girl….” He murmured. “My beautiful brave girl….” It was those words that broke her wide open, great, heaving sobs welling up from deep inside. He blinked, having not expected such an intense reaction, quickly weaving a ward over Elannora, so that she would not be disturbed by her mother’s sudden outburst, continuing to murmur mingled reassurance and praise to Rook, although it was unclear whether she could even hear him at this point. The storm lasted for close to an hour, and likely would have gone on longer, had Rook not exhausted herself, subsiding into fitful sleep, her face streaked with her tears, the flush of emotion waning into pallor as he watched. Very gently, he disentangled himself from her, tucking the blankets around her, and getting to his feet, still holding Elannora. He was making his way across the room to put her down when he heard the unmistakable sound of Manfred’s phalanges tapping on the door.

“Come in, Manfred.” He said softly, and the skeletal whisp did so, peering at Rook’s sleeping form for a moment, then turning his attention back to his father and sister. “Yes, Mama is quite upset with me.” Emmrich told him sadly. “I must go on a mission to Rivain, and she is not happy to be left behind. I will need you to take good care of her and your sister while I am gone.” Manfred nodded solemnly. Since Elannora was sleeping soundly at this point, Emmrich decided this would be a good time for Manfred to have a proper chance to hold her for a bit. He carefully transferred the sleeping baby into her big brother’s skeletal arms, watching affectionately as Manfred cradled her carefully against his ribs, staring down at her in rapt fascination.

“Nora….” Manfred whispered in awe. Emmrich opened his mouth to correct him, then closed it again, his smile widening slightly. “Hello, Nora….” Emmrich felt his heart melt at that, although Elannora continued to sleep, blissfully unaware of the scrutiny or the greeting.

“You will have to help Mama with her.” Emmrich told Manfred seriously. “With her hurt shoulder, it’s hard for her to pick Elannora up, but if you bring her, Mama can hold her.” He explained, and Manfred nodded solemnly. “And if she cries, tell her that Papa loves her.” He deliberately did not specify who might need that particular reassurance. “I hope to only be gone a day or two, but it may well be longer.” He went on, trying not to let on how the uncertainty bothered him. He was accustomed to going on missions of indeterminate length with Rook, after all, not leaving her home while he went adventuring.

“Yes, Papa.” Manfred said, clearly trying to sound reassuring, as he so often heard Emmrich do. “I take care.” Emmrich found himself smiling softly.

“You’re a good son, Manfred. I think perhaps I don’t tell you that often enough.” Emmrich said thoughtfully, wrapping an arm around Manfred’s shoulders in a half-hug. Manfred had never really experienced hugs before Rook had come into their lives, physical affection not having been something that Emmrich thought a whisp animating a skeleton would either need or want, but he had noticed immediately the delight with which Manfred had received the hugs Rook offered him as readily as anyone else, and it had led him to re-evaluate the way he interacted with his ward. It was one of the things that had begun the transition from ward and guardian to father and son, and yet another reason he had to be grateful to Rook and the effortless way she loved all those around her. She had changed so many things about his life - in truth, everything that mattered. Much as he hated to leave her, he knew that she would not be truly safe until the Forgotten One was dead. And first, they had to find her.

With a sigh, he beckoned Manfred over to Elannora’s bassinet, coaching him through laying her down for the night, watching carefully to ensure that her head remained appropriately supported. Then he sent Manfred back to the laboratory for the night, and quickly changed into a sleep shirt before joining Rook on her chaise. He drew her into a close embrace, one arm wrapped securely around her waist, the other hand tangling in her hair. Oh! How he adored her hair! He pressed his face into it, inhaling deeply, the scent so redolent of her that it filled his heart, calming his distress, and before he knew it, he was succumbing to sleep.

Chapter Text

Rook woke alone. She had expected it, but it still caused a pang of loss as she opened her eyes. She could still smell him; sandalwood, and musk, smoke, and the peculiar tang of the chemicals used in the preservation of the dead. The scent was clean, and sharp, and comforting, but already it was beginning to fade, even as she sought to cling to it, burying her face in the part of the blanket that had covered him through the night. She wanted to cry again, but without the safety of his arms around her, nothing came. There came a light tap on the door, and she answered automatically, calling for whoever it was to enter, although all she wanted was to bury herself in blankets and hide until Emmrich was back. Knowing that he might be facing danger without her was almost too much to bear, and neither the fact that she would be little help in her current condition, nor that she had a far greater responsibility to their daughter at this point made it any easier.

“Good morning.” Myrna’s gentle voice drew her out of her dark thoughts, and she sighed, reluctantly lowering the blanket to look up at the Senior Watcher. Myrna sighed in turn, looking down at her, a slight frown furrowing her brow. “Come, my dear, let’s get you up.” She said, her tone businesslike. “You need to eat something, and then….” She continued talking, but Rook’s attention drifted. She was aware she was being managed; they were going to try to keep her busy, so that she didn’t have time to worry about Emmrich. It sounded exhausting, but she couldn’t muster the energy to argue, so instead she simply tuned out, followed where she was led, and only sometimes managed a reply when she was spoken to. She was unaware of the worried glances that Neve and Lucanis exchanged whenever they were in the room with her. Even Manfred elicited only the simplest of responses, in spite of his unflagging devotion. Only Elannora could actually draw and hold her attention, her focus singular when she was holding her infant daughter. At all other times, she might have been a ghost.

The two days Emmrich had hoped for came and went with no word, and before they knew it a week had passed. Rook barely seemed to notice the passage of time, eating only when she was reminded that she needed sustenance in order to take care of Elannora’s needs. She spent most of her time in bed, the weight of her depression too heavy to bear in any other way. Manfred grew sad and listless, and gradually ceased to speak in words, reduced once again to hisses and gestures. Although he would still willingly help Lucanis with breakfast preparation, only because that was the meal Rook was most likely to be induced to actually eat. Beyond even their deep concern for Rook and her little family, the others were slowly beginning to grapple with a growing worry that something dire might have happened to Taash and Emmrich.

Over dinner on the ninth day, Neve and Lucanis had just come to the agreement that if there was no word by morning, one of them would make their way to the Hall of Valour to see if the Lords of Fortune had any news, when the Caretaker appeared, knowing, as it always managed to know, that those remaining at the Lighthouse were very anxious about their missing companions.

“Veilguards approach from the Rivain Eluvian.” It intoned. Neve and Lucanis exchanged a wordless glance, and then Neve bolted to her feet and took off at a dead run. She sprinted across the courtyard to the tower, clattering down the stairs to the Eluvian and into the Crossroads. Reaching the Elvhenan's Haven dock, she addressed the Caretaker as it brought its gondola up to the dock.

“Can you take me directly to them?” She asked, wondering briefly at the fact that it had never before occurred to her to ask.

“As needed, dweller.” The Caretaker acknowledged, turning and bringing its pole to bear on the invisible currents of the Fade. And they were off. Instead of coming to a halt at the dock, the ethereal gondola rose to a higher altitude, and continued to skim above the surface of the island. Even over the wind of their passing, Neve could hear Taash and Emmrich arguing before she could see them.

“I still think we should have spent a night with the Lords.” Taash was grumbling. “We may not have any healers right now, but even a half-decent medic could have- …”

“My dear Taash, we’ve already been gone for better than a week!” Emmrich interrupted, his voice harsh and strained. “I can only imagine how worried Rook and the others must be.”

“You just better not need me to carry you!” Taash muttered darkly.

The gondola soared over the gates that led to the Eluvian courtyard, and the pair came into view. Taash was clearly out of sorts, their armour battered and splattered with blood, but seemed otherwise unharmed. Emmrich was another matter entirely. He was clutching his staff in his left hand, leaning very heavily upon it as he hobbled along as quickly as he could manage. His right, the hand with which he usually wielded his staff, was hanging limp at his side. The glove he usually wore was gone, as were the pieces of grave gold that usually adorned his right hand and arm, and it was immediately obvious why. His right sleeves, robes and shirt, were gone, and his hand and arm were covered in a mass of burns, most of the damaged flesh red, raw, and oozing, but the edges alarmingly blackened. There were flashes of bone visible here and there, the white showing stark through the mass of charred meat on both his forearm and several knuckles. Neve caught her breath in horror as she took all of this in, the gondola coming to rest in front of the startled pair.

“Maker, Emmrich, what happened?” She demanded, her voice coming out shrill with alarm as she looked him over.

“Neve?” Emmrich said, staring blankly at her, swaying a little on his feet as he came to a stop, starting to reach for his staff with his other hand, and stopping sharply, unable to suppress a shriek of pain, letting his arm drop to his side again.

“Taash, can you get him in the boat?” Neve demanded, turning to the Qunari, who eyed Emmrich dubiously, but moved to help. It took a bit of doing, given that Emmrich could not tolerate any contact at all to his right hand, arm, or shoulder, but they were able to get him into the Caretaker’s gondola, and he sank down onto one of the low bench seat, shaking from the effort. “Please take us directly to the Eluvian back to the Crossroads.” Neve told the Caretaker, who nodded in assent, and the gondola took to the air again.

“How did you…?” Emmrich gave a vague gesture as if to indicate the entire situation, and Neve sighed.

“Rook has been utterly despondent since you left.” She said heavily. “She’s taking care of Elannora, but she’s hardly doing anything else. She barely eats, barely speaks, spends most of her time in bed. Manfred is devastated, and has almost stopped speaking himself. Myrna has tried everything, but we just… can’t get her to engage with anything or anyone besides the baby.” By the time she had finished speaking, Emmrich’s eyes were swimming with tears, and Taash was looking back and forth between the two of them in evident alarm. “The Caretaker knew we were worried, so when you reached the Crossroads, it let us know.” Neve went on, her tone gentling. “I came to meet you.” She concluded with a half-shrug.

“Glad you did.” Taash said bluntly. “I don’t know if he could’ve made it all the way on foot.” Emmrich drew himself up in his seat, as if to argue, then sagged with a muffled grunt of pain. Clearly his visible injuries were not the full extent of it. They reached the Eluvian home within a few minutes, and Neve thanked the Caretaker profusely, as they disembarked and stepped through, back into the Lighthouse.

“I’ll find Myrna.” Neve said over her shoulder a she hurried through the door.

“Okay, Emmrich, just you and me again.” Taash said bracingly. “Let’s get you upstairs.” In fact, they barely made it to the base of the staircase before Neve was back with Myrna in tow. She stared at Emmrich in horror for a moment before speaking.

“Shades! Emmrich, what happened?” She demanded in turn, stepping closer, reaching a hand towards him, but stopping short of touching him, noting how he tensed in anticipation of pain.

“We got stuck in the Fade for a bit.” Taash told her, their eyes still fixed on Emmrich’s ashen face. “There were a lot of rage demons, and we didn’t move fast enough.” Myrna gave Taash a sharp look at that, wondering if they were also injured. “I’m okay.” Taash said hastily, immediately recognising the look for what it was. “He managed to get a barrier up, just somehow forgot to cover himself with it!” This last part was delivered with a pointed look at Emmrich. This was clearly an argument they had already had. “Look, I can carry him upstairs for you, if you can do something for his pain.” They carried on without pause. “The last time I tried to help, he screamed a lot, and I think we’d all rather that didn’t happen again.” Myrna nodded, stepping close to Emmrich, laying her hand gently against his chest, and beginning to work. When she was satisfied, she stepped back and nodded to Taash, who moved in, very gently scooping Emmrich into their arms as if he was a child, and starting up the stairs.

They took him to his lab, not wanting Rook to see him like this, allowing Myrna to work on him without disturbing her or the baby. Several thick quilts and a few pillows were arranged on the mortuary slab just inside the room, and that is where Taash laid him, stepping back. Myrna moved in immediately, beginning to weave layered healings, laying them one after the other over Emmrich’s ravaged flesh. It was slow work, painstaking, and exhausting, and at the end of an hour’s delicate spellwork, there was only marginal visible improvement. Myrna staggered, bracing her hands against the edge of the slab to keep herself from falling, head bowed in exhaustion.

“My Lady?…” Emmrich’s voice was still pained, but slightly more steady now.

“A moment….” Myrna said, a bit breathlessly. Her fingers were clawed against the unyielding stone, but she did only take a moment to catch her breath and gather herself, before raising her head to meet his gaze with a weary but reassuring smile. “My dear, you are very lucky.” She told him, her voice still lacking strength. “Given time, and more healing, I am confident that you will eventually regain full use of your hand.”

“Thank you, my Lady.” Emmrich murmured. “Now, if I may, about my wife?…” She nodded heavily.

“Emmrich, I’m so sorry.” She whispered brokenly. “You trusted me to take care of your wife and daughter in your absence, and I’ve failed you.” He frowned, carefully pushing himself into a sitting position, and then reaching his uninjured hand to lay it comfortingly on her shoulder. “She’s deteriorated so quickly, and if we cannot reverse the situation just as quickly, we will have to investigate other options for sustenance for Elannora; the current situation is not tenable!”

“Myrna!” His voice came out a bit sharply, and she blinked at him. “Nothing that has happened here is your fault!” He told her firmly. “I have every faith you have done everything in your power to care for my family. If anyone is directly to blame for what’s happened, it is me.” Her mouth dropped open in disbelief, and she looked as if she would argue, but he barreled on, not letting her get a word in. “For leaving, and for being gone so much longer than anticipated. I humbly beg your pardon for having put you in this position.” She frowned at him.

“That will be quite enough of that!” She informed him tartly. “Now, are you all right to walk, or shall I have Taash carry you to your bed?” Her tone indicated she was only half jesting. Emmrich blinked in surprise, the sound of movement by the door drawing his gaze to Taash who was leaning quietly against one of his bookcases, watching in silence.

“I can walk.” He said evenly. “Taash, perhaps you would be so good to assist Watcher Myrna to her own bed?” The request was formally worded, and Taash straightened, looking a bit startled, as they eyed him.

“Only if you’re sure you’ll be okay.” They said simply. Emmrich felt a sudden surge of gratitude for the Qunari warrior, with whom he had had such a rocky start, years earlier. He was well aware that without their combat skills, and their determined strength, he might never have made his return to the Lighthouse at all, let alone as quickly as he had.

“Please, Taash.” Was all he said. Taash hesitated a moment longer, looking deeply into his eyes in a way they were rarely comfortable doing, then they nodded and moved to Myrna’s side. Even as the pair of them made their slow way down the Library stairs, they both seemed to be watching his own laboured progress from the laboratory corridor to the immediately adjacent one that led to Rook’s room. He was still using his mage staff as a crutch, and wishing that he could use both hands to hold onto it, still feeling horribly off-balance, and his left hip was screaming with pain.

All of Myrna’s focus had been on the terribly damaged right arm, but she made a mental note to make a point of checking over the rest of him in the morning, watching how stiffly he moved, his entire body clearly hunched to favour his left side, clinging to the support offered by the staff. It was a shameful relief for him to turn his back to the Library and begin his walk down the short corridor, which now seemed inordinately long. Once he had gone the first few steps he heard the tower door open and close again, and he paused with a sigh of relief, now that no one would see him falter. It took him a while, but he managed the rest of the walk, letting himself into the room, which he still thought of as solely hers, and closing the door behind him in silence. He allowed himself a moment to breathe before making his way to the chaise where she slept, catching his breath in horror as he came close enough to properly make out her still face.

“Darling….” He breathed, taking her in slowly. Even with her eyes closed, he could see the dark circles, almost bruised in appearance, that shadowed them. Her delicate bone structure appeared chiseled from marble, her cheeks and jaw hollowed, skin ashen with illness. He sank down heavily on the edge of the chaise, laying his staff aside, and reaching out with his left hand to very softly caress her cheek. Her sallow skin was cold to the touch, and she whimpered faintly, turning listlessly away from his fingers. “Oh my beloved heart….” He whispered brokenly. Moving slowly, carefully, he slid under the blanket alongside her, working his uninjured arm under her shoulders, drawing her close, and burying his face in her tangled hair. The scent of her was muted, as if her very essence had been diluted by despair, and he closed his eyes, as silent tears began to fall, clinging to her as sleep claimed him.

Chapter Text

He was roused by Elannora’s crying. Unthinking, since he was lying on his left side, her began to raise his right arm, to push aside the blanket so he could go to her, only to freeze with a strangled cry of pain.

“I’ve got her, Professor.” Myrna’s voice was calm and reassuring, and he relaxed with a sigh, opening his eyes to look at his wife. She had barely roused, her eyelids twitching, as if she was trying to open them, but lacked the strength.

“Dearest….” His voice broke as he called to her. “Darling Lilya….” She whimpered faintly, pushing weakly at his chest with her own good arm, and he felt the rejection, unconscious though it was, like claws tearing at his chest. Myrna brought Elannora to the bed, and he helped her to prop Rook into a position where the babe could be placed to nurse. The calm matter-of-factness with which Myrna accomplished all this made it clear that this was still a regular occurrence, Rook being unable to rouse herself to take any part in Elannora’s nighttime feedings. Never before had he felt that he had failed her so completely as he had with this prolonged absence. He felt tears pricking at his eyes, and he attempted a few calming breaths, trying to will them back.

“Emmrich….” Myrna’s voice was compassionate, but more importantly, he felt Rook give a little start in his arms. Finally, her eyes fluttered open, and though they appeared dull with exhaustion, she stared at him with terrible intensity.

“Emm-rich….” She echoed haltingly, her voice a rough croak that wrung his heart, still staring.

“I’m here, my darling.” He murmured fervently. “I am so so so sorry….” His voice broke on the apology, and again, without thinking, he tried to bring his burned hand up to touch her face. The pain stopped him short, prying a harsh cry from a throat gone tight from it, but not before she had a chance to see the thick bandages that swathed his hand and arm, and she stared in horror.

“What happened?…” She asked shakily, and he sighed, although he did derive some comfort from the fact that she was now at least partly supporting Elannora as she nursed.

“Rage demons?” He said mildly, as if that would be sufficient explanation. She glowered at him. “My darling, I promise, I will tell you everything, but right now… you’re unwell….” His voice cracked and he broke off sharply, breath whistling between clenched teeth as he fought for control. “I so sorry, Lilya.” He whispered finally.

“But… you’re hurt….” She faltered, still staring at him in distress. “Why haven’t you been healed?” She turned her question towards Myrna now, who sighed. She still looked wan and weary, and Emmrich was certain she had not rested nearly so long as she should have.

“I’ve begun the healing.” She explained. “It will have to be accomplished in stages; he is quite badly hurt.” The door swung open quietly, and Manfred came in, his lantern eyes seeming to gleam brighter when he caught sight of Emmrich. His hissing shriek of greeting caused everyone except Myrna to jump. Emmrich stiffened with a low grunt of pain, and Elannora, dislodged from her Mother’s breast, began wailing in protest. Manfred hurried forward, gently taking over supporting Elannora, expertly repositioning her so she could latch onto the other nipple, and Myrna stepped back, surveying the scene before her.

“I was quite focused on your arm last night, Professor.” She said, her tone formal. “But clearly that is not your only injury; where else are you hurt?” He sighed.

“I, ah, believe I may have cracked a hip.” He admitted with obvious reluctance. She gaped at him in abject disbelief.

“Oh Emmrich… why didn’t you tell me?” Even as she asked the question, she waved away any attempt at a response, sighing again, as she moved to kneel before the chaise. “Anything else?” She asked before she began.

“Nothing of consequence.” Emmrich replied a bit tersely, and she nodded shortly, leaning in once again to let her fingers touch his chest. Her magic checked him thoroughly this time, and her frown deepened as she opened her eyes to regard him.

“Cracked nothing, Emmrich, you’ve got a full fracture here!” She exclaimed. “How could you even walk?”

“Painfully.” Emmrich admitted dryly, and she shot him a look of exasperation.

“I can’t just pop a healing spell on this and trust it will come out right.” She emphasised. “If it is not positioned right before being mended, you could end up with one leg being shorter than the other, or worse!” She took a moment, breathing hard through her nose, rubbing her hands against her thighs as she thought, then she turned abruptly to Manfred, who had just returned Elannora to her bassinet. “Manfred, please go see if Taash is awake yet?” She requested, polite as always. “If they are, please bring them here, but do not wake them if they are not.” Manfred gave a hiss of agreement and hurried off. While he was gone, Myrna quickly rearranged some things in the room, placing two chairs alongside the chaise, and laying out fresh bandaging supplies on a small table nearby. Manfred came shambling back into the room with Taash in tow. It was clear he had not woken them from sleep, as half-completed dar’saam ropes were dangling loose from their elbows as they hurried in.

“What do you need?” They asked Myrna, but their eyes were on Rook and Emmrich, a flash of relief evident at how alert Rook looked.

“First, could you please help Rook to one of the chairs.” Myrna requested. Rook sighed, reluctantly sitting up, out of Emmrich’s embrace, and let Taash take her by the arm, getting to her feet, and moving to the chair indicated.

“You okay?” Taash asked intently, still holding onto Rook’s hand as she settled into the seat.

“Thank you… for bringing him back to me….” She whispered, completely ignoring the question, her gaze never leaving Emmrich’s pale face. Taash managed an unsteady smile, even though Rook wasn’t looking at them.

“Sorry I couldn’t bring him back in one piece.” They muttered, straightening up and turning back to Myrna expectantly.

“Emmrich has broken his hip, and then failed to tell anyone about it.” Myrna told them, her displeasure evident. Taash’s eyes widened, their head swinging around to stare at Emmrich in horror.

“You said you were okay.” They objected, sounding very young, and very upset. “You said you were just bruised, and that the burns were the worst of it.” Emmrich reluctantly raised his eyes to meet their gaze, quailing at the look of betrayal he found there.

“Needed… to get back….” He explained haltingly, his voice rasping a bit in his throat, and he swallowed hard in an attempt to clear it. “’m sorry, Taash.” This last was mumbled, a fact which alarmed all of them, and Myrna cleared her throat as gently as she could.

“Taash, I need you to hold him steady while I heal him. Things must be positioned properly.” Taash swallowed hard, nodding.

“Just tell me what to do.” They said with all the firmness they could muster. Together, Taash and Myrna set to work. Emmrich tried very hard not to fight them, as they shifted and manipulated his body, but the pain was considerable, causing him to writhe and howl with it. Rook sat in silence, watching, a small trickle of blood running down her chin from where she bit her lip to keep silent, as Emmrich began to sob in agony. The trickle of healing magic, when it began to flow, was sweet relief, easing the worst of the pain, soothing it to a dull ache, as the bone was carefully knit back together. He had just allowed himself to relax in relief, when he distinctly felt the thread of magic snap, heard both Taash and Rook call out in alarm, and opened his eyes just in time to see Myrna collapse, boneless, to the floor.

“Myrna!” His own belated cry was shrill, and he tried to sit up, intending to rush to her side, but Taash still held him, one large hand wrapped around his leg just above the knee, the other pressed against his chest, holding him in place.

“You stay put!” They snapped. “I’ll get her.” When he nodded, they released him and moved to crouch over Myrna, who was just coming to her senses, gathering her up gently, and moving to deposit her in the chair she had prepared earlier. The healer blinked, disoriented, staring at Taash for a moment, as they straightened up from putting her down. Rook reached over hesitantly to touch her arm.

“Are you all right, my Lady?” Emmrich’s voice was still a bit hoarse, but his gaze when she looked at him, was clear, his hazel eyes shining with concern.

“I am… all right….” Myrna’s voice was breathless and unconvincing. “Just a bit… light-headed.” Moving gingerly, Emmrich sat himself up, shifting until he could lower his stockinged feet to the floor, rather grateful that he had not taken the time to undress the night before, rumpled though his garments now looked. Rook, Myrna, Taash, and he now realised, Manfred, were all watching him closely, and he drew a deep breath before speaking again.

“My Lady Myrna.” His tone had gone stiff and formal, but there was clear worry in his eyes as he looked at her. “I must offer my deepest gratitude for all you have done, for myself, and my family, but it seems very clear that I have asked more of you than I had any right.” She opened her mouth to say something, but he ploughed on, determined. “And I must respectfully decline any further healing on your part.” She closed her mouth with a snap, staring at him for a moment.

“There’s no need for that….” She objected, and he frowned thunderously at her.

“Myrna, you just fainted.” He pointed out with forced calm. “I would say we are far past the need for it.” She found that she could not hold his gaze, could not bear the weight of that vast compassion directed at her. “If the Necropolis infirmary could spare us Kai for a few days, I should be grateful, but you have done enough.” He concluded forcefully. Myrna sighed, giving a weary nod, her resistance crumbling before his eyes, and he looked relieved. “Taash, would you please help Lady Myrna back to her room?” He asked calmly. “I would have you more rested before we send you home.” He told Myrna by way of explanation, and she nodded with a rueful half-smile.

“Do you need me to come back after?” Taash asked, and Emmrich considered a moment before answering.

“I think you’d better.” He said at length. “Just in case. I shall have to send Manfred on an important errand.” Taash nodded, moving to help Myrna to her feet once again.

“You okay to walk?” They asked bluntly, not needing to specify what the alternative would be.

“I can walk.” Myrna assured them, then glanced uncertainly towards Rook. The young woman’s gaze was more lucid than it had been in days, but she still bore the marks of the dreadful depression that had taken hold of her. “Perhaps you’d best stop by the kitchen on your way back. I believe Emmrich and Rook could both benefit from an early breakfast.” She suggested. Taash followed her gaze to Rook, nodding. Neve’s description of Rook’s depression had led Taash to expect worse, but now, as they looked their friend over, they realised belatedly that she looked terrible; her greyish pallor made all the more pronounced by the bruised-looking dark circles of fatigue around her eyes.

“Yeah, I’ll find you both something to eat.” Taash said softly, receiving a weak but grateful smile in recompense.

“Darling,” Emmrich addressed Rook as Taash and Myrna left the room. “Do you feel strong enough to write a quick note to Vorgoth for me?” She nodded, getting a bit unsteadily to her feet, and moving to the small desk in the corner where she had some basic writing supplies. She made quick work of the writing, explaining briefly their need for a different healer to relieve Myrna, allowing her to return home, and requesting Kai by name, as they were Emmrich’s preference. She signed it from both of them, and as she folded and sealed the missive, he turned his attention to Manfred. “Would you be so good as to deliver this note to Vorgoth in the Necropolis, please, Manfred?” He asked, as courteous as ever. Uncharacteristically, Manfred hesitated, looking back and forth between his parents with an uncertain gurgling hiss of concern. “I assure you, we shall be quite all right, Manfred, and Taash will be back soon, should we need anything.” Even as he reassured Manfred, Emmrich was aware that the strain of even sitting up was beginning to tell on him, but he waited until Manfred nodded reluctantly, taking the missive from Rook’s outstretched hand, before he allowed himself to settle back onto the chaise, beckoning her to come join him with his good hand.

“I’m afraid I wasn’t very good to Manfred while you were away….” Rook said, once the door had closed behind the departing skeleton. “He tried so hard to take care of me… of us… but I just… I couldn’t….” She trailed off brokenly, pressing her face into the crook of his neck, her entire body trembling with emotion.

“My dear, I am quite certain that Manfred has forgiven you already.” He assured her, turning his head to press a gentle kiss to her hair.

“I hardly feel like I deserve it.” She murmured, and he sighed, giving a light squeeze with his one good arm.

By the time Taash returned, with half a loaf of freshly baked bread cut into thick slices, accompanied with butter, honey, jam, and cheese, and with the news that Lucanis would hurry his breakfast preparations and let them know when it was ready, Rook was on the verge of drifting off, her head leaning against the side of Emmrich’s neck, his left arm wrapped tight around her. Emmrich had Taash prepare several pieces of bread, one with just butter, and others with various combinations of the available toppings, then he very gently roused Rook, and tried without success to get her to try at least a few bites.

“Please, dearest, you must eat something.” He murmured tenderly, once again offering her a piece smeared with raspberry jam, which he knew was her favourite. He had already had several bites himself. She gave a little sigh, opening her mouth enough to take a cautious nibble from the bread, swallowing hard. He watched her, worry in his eyes. She wanted to reassure him, to say something to soothe away that worry, but found she could not think of anything beyond the most transparent of platitudes to say. She took another cautious bite, and he was terribly aware of the tension in her as she swallowed it down. With a sigh, he put down the bread and began to run his fingers softly through her tangled curls, beginning to very gently work through some of the knots. She gave a faint whimper, very slowly starting to relax against him.

“It’s all right, darling… I’m here…. I’ve got you….” He murmured tenderly, his voice soothing her, as it always did. As she gradually sagged against him, murmuring inarticulately, as sleep reached out to claim her, he raised his gaze to Taash, who was still standing nearby, looking awkward and uncomfortable. “Sit down, Taash.” He told them, a little startled, but careful to keep his voice low and soothing. “I need to thank you….” He went on, as they sank slowly into one of the chairs next to the chaise where he and Rook sat. “I don’t know that I would have made it back without you.”

“Don’t be stupid, of course you would have.” Taash objected, their tone growing abrasive, as he had noticed it often did when they were attempting to conceal strong emotions. He didn’t say anything more, just shook his head, hazel eyes kind and patient, as he looked at Taash. They sighed. “I should have kept you safe.” They said, sounding a little sullen. “Rook trusted me to keep you safe!”

“You got me home.” Emmrich murmured, his voice still carefully modulated. “I shall always be grateful for that.” Between his words and the look in his eyes, Taash found themself becoming convinced of his sincerity.

“Oh! Well…. You’re welcome.” They said, apparently at something of a loss. The moment was interrupted by a light knock on the door. Emmrich nodded to Taash, and they hurried to open in, rather than having him raise his voice to answer. Lucanis stepped diffidently into the room, padding softly around to face Rook and Emmrich, noting immediately that she had dozed off again.

“Breakfast.” He said softly, and Emmrich smiled in thanks.

“Lilya….” He breathed, ducking his head to kiss her brow very softly. She stirred, murmuring sleepily, and he continued peppering soft kisses across her face. “Come, my love, let us go break our fast with our friends.” He urged. She blinked at him a bit groggily, struggling to focus. “Lucanis, would you help Rook, please?” Emmrich asked reluctantly, knowing that with his burned arm, and his need to lean on his staff, his use was limited in that regard.

Lucanis looked startled, but nodded, hurrying closer. He bent to very gently draw Rook out of Emmrich’s one-armed embrace, helping her to her feet and bringing her close against him with a supporting arm of his own. Emmrich watched, feeling a surge of gratitude for the younger man. There had been a time, years earlier, when he had feared that Lucanis might be a rival for Rook’s affections. Where his own insecurity had led him to wonder if Lucanis might actually be a better match for her than himself. Those worries had long since been put to rest, the web of devotion and, yes, love, which tied them all together having grown strong from the deep bonds of trust they shared.

“Emmrich… need a hand?” Taash asked hesitantly. He thought for a moment before answering, shifting his recently-healed hip experimentally, and failing to suppress a wince at the resulting sensation.

“Yes please, Taash.” He answered at length, and they stared at him for a moment, clearly having expected him to refuse their offer. Then they scrambled to help him up. Before they left the room, Lucanis helped Rook to put on her sling, and lifted Elannora from her bassinet, gently laying her in it, so her mother could carry her, careful not to wake her. The group of them left the room together, Taash gently reminding Emmrich that he could lean more fully on them if he needed to, as they started down the gently curving staircase into the library.

“How are you feeling, querida?” Lucanis asked Rook softly, as they walked.

“Terrible….” She admitted, her voice barely audible, even with their heads only an inch or two apart as she leaned against him. He frowned, not having expected such an honest answer, after more than a week of her avoiding or ignoring the question completely.

“What can I do?” He asked, and she just sighed and shook her head with a weak smile. As the four made their way slowly across the courtyard and up the small flight of stairs towards the dining hall, the tower door swung open again, and Manfred came hurrying out with Kai in tow. The healer had a small rucksack slung over their shoulder, and a thoughtful frown on their face, but their face relaxed in an expression of relief when they caught sight of the small group ahead. Manfred gave a hiss, and rushed to Taash and Emmrich, gabbling excitedly.

“Yes, Manfred, I am all right.” Emmrich assured him, frowning, troubled by the evident regression that Manfred had experienced in his self-expression. “But are you all right, my boy?” He asked intently. Manfred looked towards Rook for a moment, then responded with a sad sound that was closer to a moan than anything else. “I know it was difficult, Manfred, but I know that you did everything you could.” Emmrich assured him, and Manfred gave a hissing sigh, green lantern eyes still fixed on Rook. “And now we can both take care of Mama again.” He added, as comfortingly as he could, in spite of the fact that he felt less than useless in that regard at the moment. Kai looked back and forth between Rook, leaning on Lucanis, and Emmrich, leaning on Taash, looking more than a little alarmed, although they masked it quickly under their usual mask of calm professionalism.

“I understand you could use the services of a healer.” The words were mildly spoken, and Emmrich managed a faint smile of amusement.

“Welcome to the Lighthouse.” He said simply. “As I’m sure you have already gathered, we are in the Fade.” Kai nodded, looking about in mingled apprehension and fascination. Reaching the dining hall, Rook and Emmrich were both settled in their accustomed places at the table, and Lucanis hurried to bring them tea, which he must have set to steep just before going to fetch them. Manfred immediately moved in to serve them both. Emmrich was relieved to see that Rook didn’t show any of the same reluctance to have some tea that she had earlier with the bread. Although she still desperately needed food, at least this indicated she was likely in less danger of dehydration.

Breakfast was subdued. Bellara and Davrin had not yet returned from their excursion to the Dales, but they were not expected for at least another week or two. Rook was largely silent, in spite of Emmrich’s attempts to draw her out, and everybody else was singularly focused on her. He realised, as he observed the dynamic, that this must be what mealtimes had been like during his absence. Rook, silent, listless, and eating only the barest nibbles of sustenance, while everybody else watched her with scarce concealed unease. During the meal, he quietly asked Kai to check on Myrna, and a short while later, he returned to the dining hall with her. The Senior Watcher still appeared drained, her dark eyes dull with exhaustion, but she blithely ignored any queries as to her state of health, eating in silence, her own gaze intent on Rook, like the others.

“I will return to the Necropolis today.” Myrna told them, as the meal ended.

“Manfred will escort you, my Lady.” Emmrich told her, and she gave a tolerant smile.

“There is no need for that, Professor.” She said mildly, and he shook his head.

“Manfred?” The skeleton responded with an agreeable hiss. “Please make sure that Lady Myrna returns home safely.” Manfred moved immediately to take up a position at Myrna’s shoulder, and when she was ready, he accompanied her first back to her dormitory room to gather her things, and then through the Eluvian to the Necropolis. There was no further arguing — she realised that once Emmrich had given his instructions, Manfred would simply follow them, no matter what she said.

Meanwhile, Emmrich and Rook returned to the meditation chamber, assisted once again by Lucanis and Taash. Neve had waved them away in the dining hall, turning to begin cleanup on her own. Once they were installed on Rook’s chaise, Elannora still snuggled securely in her sling against her mother’s chest, Lucanis and Taash left them, and Emmrich turned his full and considerable focus on her, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before Kai arrived to look to his burns.

“Have you been doing your exercises, darling?” He asked gently, knowing the answer, having seen how stiffly she held her left arm. She shook her head, avoiding his gaze. He sighed. “Well, here, let me hold Elannora, and try a few stretches. It took a few minutes, each of them only having one usable hand and arm, but they were able to transfer Elannora in her sling to her father, and Rook sighed in turn, taking the elbow of her left arm in her right hand, letting her left forearm rest against her right, and very slowly until she felt the pull and discomfort of the movement in the damaged muscles of her left shoulder. She took a deep, slow breath, pulling just a hair further, as Maevaris had instructed, and held it for a few more breaths before slowly lowering it again. Emmrich watched her in silence, heart aching.

“Good….” He murmured tenderly. “Again…. Breathe….” He coached her through several repetitions of each stretch, helping with his own good arm, so that she could work through the full — if limited — range of motion. By the time Kai arrived, they had finished, and Rook was drifting. The young healer took Elannora first, laying her tenderly in her bassinet where she continued to sleep, deep and contented. Then they turned to Emmrich.

“All right, let me see.” They said calmly, moving closer and beginning very gently to unwind the bandaging that covered the necromancer’s burned arm. Emmrich held himself as still as he could, although the burned flesh clung to the dressing in places, drawing hisses and faint whimpers of pain as Kai patiently worked it loose. By the time they had finished baring the ruined limb, Emmrich was shaking, breath coming hard and fast through his nose, as he fought to stay quiet, his good hand pressed against his mouth, teeth lodged firmly in the fleshy part at the base of his thumb. Kai drew a steadying breath of their own, as they surveyed the damage with a practiced eye. “All right, Professor, let us see what I can do for you….”

Chapter Text

“Lilya?…” Emmrich woke to find himself alone on the chaise. At first he was only aware of the chill of her absence, but then other senses began to intrude. First, he could hear Elannora crying, and then he perceived the unmistakable smell of vomit. That brought him clawing to full wakefulness, looking around in alarm. It was dark, the luminous rippling of the aquarium wall subdued; it must have been the middle of the night, neither Manfred nor Kai had yet arrived to help with Elannora’s early-morning feeding, but something had clearly disturbed her. Then his gaze found the crumpled form of Rook, still and silent on the floor next to the bassinet.

“Lilya!” He clambered to his feet, limping heavily, not wasting the time to fetch his staff as he scrambled towards her. She appeared to be out cold, although as he fell heavily to his knees at her side, her eyelids started to flutter. He took her good hand in his, bringing it to his lips, calling her name again. She came to with a faint whimper, recoiling as she realised how close her face was to the small pool of her own sick.

Manfred came hurrying into the room with an anxious hiss, no doubt alerted to the trouble by Emmrich’s frantic voice, as he usually spent nights in the laboratory directly adjacent. He rushed to where Rook and Emmrich were, on the floor near Elannora’s bassinet. Elannora continued to howl. Without waiting for instruction, the whisp moved first to the baby, gently lifting her in his skeletal arms, and cuddling her against his exposed ribcage. Elannora calmed quickly, tiny fingers gripping one of Manfred’s rib bones, which did not seem to trouble him in the least. Next he moved to where Rook lay, and between them, he and Emmrich were able to get her sitting up, although she still seemed very confused and disoriented. Manfred offered Elannora to Rook, bone fingers strangely gentle as he guided her good arm around to support the baby, carefully drawing Rook’s sleeping garment open and guiding Elannora so she could latch on and feed.

Emmrich watched all this in silence, the tightness in his chest almost unbearable, observing that Rook still appeared barely lucid, even as she instinctively cradled the child at her breast. Once Elannora had nursed her fill, Manfred took her gently, and placed her in her bassinet, then returned to stand over Rook and Emmrich. After a moment’s consideration, the skeleton stooped to take Rook’s good arm by the elbow, pulling her to her feet, and wrapping his bone arms around her as she caught her balance. Then he slowly and patiently guided her back to her chaise. Once she was situated, she curled onto her right side immediately, moaning softly.

“Please bring me my staff.” Emmrich requested, his voice shaking. Manfred hissed agreeably, hurrying to comply, then standing over Emmrich protectively as he clambered to his feet, stumbling briefly, the pain in his hip flaring. He clung to the staff for a moment, then began making his way back to the chaise. Rook was still tightly curled on her side when he reached her, a deeply defensive position that squeezed his heart in his chest with anguish at her evident suffering. He sat down heavily, muffling a grunt of pain, and bent to lay his staff on the floor right next to the edge of the chaise, where it would be immediately to hand if needed, but unlikely to cause anyone to trip. Then he angled his body, his good hand coming to rest on her hair, her face hidden against her drawn-up knees. As far as he could tell, she was still conscious, but her breathing was laboured and uneven.

“Darling….” His voice rang with concern, but his hand on her hair was steady, as he began to stroke her bent head soothingly. She gave another faint moan, but her body began to relax out of its fetal curl, and he sighed softly in relief, seeing it. “Darling, can you talk to me?” His voice was gentle, pleading, and he watched as her brow furrowed, her mouth working soundlessly, searching for words.

“I… I don’t know….” She faltered, her voice weak and breathless.

“Tell me what you’re feeling, dearest.” He urged, knowing that his own strength was not yet restored enough to attempt even the simplest of healing magics. Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment as she fought for breath.

“Can’t… breathe….” She mumbled haltingly, and his worried frown deepened, his hand moving from her hair to her shuddering back, rubbing soothing circles.

“Slow down….” His voice was a calming rumble, and she tried to comply, but he could still feel her straining. “Easy, love….” He whispered, leaning down to press his lips softly to her temple.

“Dizzy….” She muttered, her voice only audible because of how close he had bent to her face.

“You’re safe….” He whispered, continuing in his efforts to calm her, more alarmed than he liked to admit in the face of her shuddering and gasping. As her breathing began to ease, became aware that he could feel her heart pounding through the meagre flesh of her back, and something about the rhythm seemed off. Frowning, his fingers moved instinctively to find the pulse point at her throat, pressing gently, beginning to count in his head. Even as the bounding of her pulse subsided, he was aware that her heart’s rhythm was uneven, but he said nothing of it, redoubling his efforts to help her calm down and breathe.

Eventually, she went still. He was uncertain if she had succumbed once again to her pervasive exhaustion, or if she had passed out again, but he was unwilling to disturb her, either way. He checked her pulse again, finding it weak and thready, but steady for the moment, which prompted a surge of relief. A questioning hiss brought his head up to find Manfred standing over him again, lantern eyes swiveling rapidly back and forth between his face and Rook’s.

“Manfred.” His smile felt unconvincing, even to him, and Manfred tilted his head quizzically, still peering at him. “Are you all right, my boy?” He asked, trying to keep his voice casual, as if it was a simple question, not one that he dreaded the answer to. Manfred gave a vaguely affirmative hiss, and Emmrich sighed softly. “Use your words, Manfred.” His voice was gentle but reproving, and Manfred moaned softly, lowering his skull head sadly. “Talk to me, son.” He urged. He did not use that word often with Manfred, although their relationship was clearly that of a father and son. “Please.”

“Papa….” Manfred’s voice was harsh and uncertain, as it always became when he was very upset. Emmrich’s smile warmed a bit, and he nodded encouragingly. “Manfred… sad….” Manfred told him simply, and he nodded again. “Mama… sad… sick….” His glowing eyes seemed to darken with the force of his distress.

“It is not your fault, Manfred.” He assured the skeleton, with all the force he could muster. “It is mine.” Manfred made a sound that was almost a growl in protest. “I speak nothing but the truth.” Emmrich insisted.

“Papa, hurt.” Manfred said plaintively, and Emmrich nodded heavily.

“Yes Manfred, Papa got hurt.” He confirmed with deep reluctance. “But I will be all right.” He went on. “You remember when we had to replace your left tibia, because you cracked it exploring Arlathan?” Manfred hissed in affirmation. “Well, the living cannot simply replace a bone that is damaged. It will heal, but it will take time.” Both Manfred and Emmrich began to relax as Emmrich settled into explanation. The door opened silently, as Kai let themself in, smiling when they saw Emmrich awake and sitting up.

“How are you feeling, Professor?” They asked, moving to stand next to Manfred.

“Quite sore.” Emmrich replied honestly. “But I am more concerned about my wife.” Kai’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “I found her on the floor this morning.” Emmrich told them. “She had been sick, and then passed out, and when she came to, she was having trouble breathing. Her heartbeat was uneven and racing.” Kai was frowning, and they moved immediately to check Rook over, kneeling beside the chaise, reaching to hold a hand over her hunched shoulder, not quite touching her, as their magic began to survey her body.

“Her entire system is… straining.” They said slowly, a deep frown furrowing their brow as they tried to reconcile what they had observed with the woman apparently sleeping peacefully before them. “It’s like… nothing is working as it should. Her heart… muscles… nerves…. All of it…. I’ve never seen anything like it….”

Emmrich felt anxiety begin to stab at him, as he listened to Kai’s words, the guilt he was already feeling beginning to roar in his mind. He drew a sharp breath, then another, deliberately slower, carefully deepening his breathing until his own heart ceased racing. He gazed down at Rook’s still form, wishing desperately that he had two good arms to hold her close with. His good hand returned once again to her hair, and he was well aware that he was only soothing himself at this point, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Kai closed their eyes, focus deepening, as they began healing in earnest. Emmrich closed his eyes as well, simply observing in silence, as the healer worked. Strengthening here, reinforcing there, working slowly, carefully, precisely so as not to overwhelm her terribly weakened mind and body.

“My love…. My darling….” Emmrich whispered, continuing to stroke her hair, trying to ignore how his own voice trembled. “I love you…. I need you…. Please hang on, my precious heart….” As Kai paused in their healing to take a few steadying breaths, they eyed the elder mage sympathetically, but said nothing. Emmrich took no notice, eyes still closed, as he spoke to his unconscious wife. “I’m here, darling…. I’m so sorry I left you…. But I’m here now…. I’m here!…” His voice broke, tears filling his eyes and clogging his throat so no more words would come.

When Kai had done all they felt they could for Rook, for the moment, they turned their attention back to Emmrich. The older man’s eyes were still closed, his graceful left hand continuing to run over and over Rook’s unkempt hair, tears streaming unchecked down his cheeks. Kai hesitated a moment, then sighed and very gently took hold of Emmrich’s bandaged wrist, beginning to unwind the bandages to assess the progress of his healing burns. Emmrich made an effort to get hold of himself, realising that he was now the focus of the healer’s attention. Unwilling to remove his good hand from Rook’s hair, he twisted his neck to awkwardly wipe some of his fallen tears from his cheeks against his own shoulder, feeling a bit like a child as he did so.

For the first time since their return to the Lighthouse, Emmrich was able to bring himself to actually look at the state of his arm. There were places that appeared to be healing well, but the back of his hand was a patchwork of crusted scabs, blackened skin, and livid red blisters, and even some of the less-damaged skin near the wrist showed a hectic flush of burgeoning infection. With an apologetic glance at Emmrich’s horrified face, Kai began to very gently palpate around the edges of the burns, using both touch and magic to determine the extent of the damage. Emmrich stiffened, his other hand stilling in Rook’s hair, drawing in a sharp breath, and holding it, his eyes squeezing shut once again, attempting to stem the flow of fresh tears.

“Forgive me, Professor.” Kai said softly, frowning. They turned to the nearby table where they had set out their herbal kit, preparing a poultice of elfroot and embrium, and very gently beginning to apply it to Emmrich’s hand. Emmrich shuddered at the resulting sensations, finding the astringent sting of the herbs to almost be a relief in contrast to the simple pressure of their application. It was as if he can feel the flames licking at him all over again, a shrill whine escaping through his nose as Kai continued their work. It seemed to last for hours, although in truth it was only a few minutes before the healer finished their work and began to replace the bandages. The bandaging on Emmrich’s upper arm was much lighter this time, simply protecting the damaged areas as they continued to heal; his hand was another matter. Once the poultice was evenly spread over the ravaged tissue, they wrapped it first with gauze and then with fresh linen.

“Thank you, Kai.” Emmrich managed, his voice still shaking, but his breathing beginning to return to normal.

“I’m sorry, Professor, I know that hurt.” Kai replied, as if they had not heard.

“Not your fault.” Emmrich objected. “I am grateful for all that you have offered us.” Kai nodded in acknowledgment.

“Try to get some rest, Professor.” They said gently. “I’m sure you’d rather I didn’t hover, but send Manfred if you need anything.” Emmrich nodded wordlessly, very carefully working himself back onto the chaise alongside Rook, gathering her in gently with his good arm. He did not hear the healer leave.

The first thing Rook was aware of was heat. She was drenched in sweat, her head swimming with confusion, and when she opened her eyes, a wave of dizziness briefly swamped her, darkening her vision, as the world seemed to whirl about her. She moaned softly, fighting to sort out the fragmented thoughts and physical sensations that were clamouring through her. She peered at Emmrich, blinking several times to clear her vision, realising that most of the heat was coming from him, where he was pressed against her. She frowned, bringing both hands to his cheeks, finding his skin extremely hot to the touch, the blue light from the aquarium giving his flushed skin an alarming violet hue.

“Emmrich?…” She called his name softly, but the only response she received was a faint groan. Her right hand moved to his brow, finding the skin there hot and tight and dry, as if he had sweated, but the moisture had already been burned off by the heat of him. “Emmrich…..” She tried again, a little louder. “Can you hear me, love?” She heard a questioning hiss, and looked up to find Manfred coming to stand over them, and she struggled to gather her thoughts. “Manfred…. I need… water… cold… and a cloth….” Her words were stumbling, but Manfred nodded readily, moving to where the washbasin and pitcher stood on a nearby dresser, and bringing them and a clean cloth to her. “And then… go find the healer, please….”

“Yes.” Manfred agreed readily, hurrying off. Rook carefully disentangled herself from Emmrich’s surprisingly strong one-armed embrace, taking the cloth and dipping it to soak for a moment in the cool water, then wringing it out the best she could one-handed, and moving to wipe his hot brow with it. Emmrich flinched from the cool cloth, whimpering faintly, and she sighed, still cupping his cheek with her other hand, ignoring the pain in her shoulder, and the uncomfortable prickling in her wrist and hand, as she tried to steady him so she could continue swabbing his face, trying to cool him down a bit. By the time Manfred returned with Kai, Emmrich had started shivering violently, prompting Rook to set the cloth aside and wrap both of her arms around him, holding as tightly as she could, even as she carefully avoided touching his bandaged right arm.

“My Lady, how are you feeling?” Kai asked gently. Rook had long since stopped trying to convince people that there was nothing highborn about her. She blinked up at them, perplexed by the question, wondering if they had somehow failed to notice Emmrich’s state.

“I…. What?…” She faltered, confused. Kai peered at her, seeming perplexed in turn, but she met their gaze as steadily as she could, still feeling Emmrich shivering against her. The healer eventually turned their attention to Emmrich, frowning

“How long has he been like this?” They asked intently.

“I don’t know.” She admitted. “I just woke up, and he was burning up.” Kai nodded, laying a hand on Emmrich’s head; the older man had his face hidden against Rook’s neck.

“There is infection in his hand.” Kai explained with a sigh, their own hand moving to skim very gently down Emmrich’s bandaged arm, stopping just above the wrist. “This is his body’s attempt to burn it out.”

“What can I do to help him?” Rook asked, still holding him close.

“You are already doing it, my Lady.” Kai assured her. “Keep him as comfortable as possible, when he can tolerate it, wipe him down, face, neck, and back, with a cool cloth — not cold, mind, just cool — that will help bring his temperature down. Also, try to get him to drink water, if you can. Letting him get dehydrated would be very bad.” Rook nodded, reassured by the healer’s calm, but she realised that Kai was staring at her with a puzzled frown again.

“Why are you looking at me like that, Kai?” She demanded, trying to suppress her irritation. Their frown did not ease.

“My Lady, the last time I saw you, you couldn’t be roused, and the Professor said you’d been having trouble breathing.” Kai replied, still eyeing her with obvious concern. “Are you sure you’re all right?” Rook frowned, bewildered, as she realised that what they said was true, but she had no memories to explain how she knew it was true.

“I’m… dizzy….” She said haltingly, the confusion on her face growing more pronounced.

“Be calm, my Lady.” Kai’s voice was soothing, and she blinked at them, realising she couldn’t quite remember when they had arrived.

“Emmrich is… not well….” She mumbled a bit vaguely, becoming aware of the sweat springing up where his face was pressed against her neck, but unsure whether it was his or her own.

“I know, my Lady.” Kai murmured. “We will take care of him together, you and I.” Rook nodded, reassured, still holding Emmrich close. “Manfred, would you please fetch tea for Rook and water to drink for Emmrich?” The healer requested politely. Manfred hesitated briefly, looking uncertainly at Rook and Emmrich, entwined on the chaise, Emmrich started to shiver again. “I will stay to watch over them.” Kai assured him. Apparently satisfied, Manfred hurried off to fulfill the request.

Chapter Text

Manfred was glad to be helping, as always, and yet he was also troubled. He had believed that once Papa returned from his mission, everything would be right with the world. But Papa had returned, and things had somehow gotten even worse. Papa was terribly injured, and although Mama’s renewed willingness to speak was reassuring, her illness also seemed to have worsened since Papa’s arrival. Although Manfred’s understanding of the physical world had improved dramatically since he had joined it by taking on a body, there were still innumerable things he did not understand about the living, with their fragile soft parts, and their fluids that could leak. He had eventually realised that sometimes leaking fluids was a very bad thing, and sometimes it was not, but he was not always clear on which was which. Although he had gathered that clear fluids tended to be less dire, whereas red seemed to send the living into a panic in large quantities. All of this passed through his mind as he made his way to the dining hall and attached kitchen.

Lucanis was not up yet, but Manfred knew what he needed to do. First he filled the kettle and placed it over the fire, then he filled a pitcher with water, putting it and two glasses on a tray. While he waited for the kettle to boil, he prepared the teapot, and added cups, honey, and lemon to the tray. As Manfred rummaged about, Lucanis came out of the pantry, eyebrows rising to find the skeleton already at work preparing tea. Without a word, Lucanis moved to begin taking out ingredients for fresh bread. By the time the kettle boiled, Lucanis already had one ball of dough covered and proofing and was starting on a second one. He watched in silence as Manfred carefully poured the steaming water into the prepared teapot.

“How is Rook?” Lucanis asked softly.

“Mama fall… sleep on floor….” Manfred’s response was a hissing grumble, and Lucanis frowned, puzzled.

“On the floor?” He echoed in confusion, then his eyes widened in alarm. “She fainted?” He demanded, alarmed glance flickering in the direction of the tower, where Rook’s room was. Manfred nodded so hard his teeth clacked together. As Lucanis watched, startled, the skeleton mimed doubling over, vomiting, and then collapsing to the floor in a clatter of bones. When he got back to his feet, Lucanis was staring at him in horror. “Okay… so…. She was sick, and then she fainted.” He said slowly, then glanced at the tray Manfred was preparing. “Emmrich is with her? And the healer?” He demanded, to another emphatic nod from Manfred.

“Papa sick… hot cold….” Manfred went on; it was the most Lucanis had heard him say all at once, in all the years of knowing him, and possibly more than he had said in the last week altogether. Lucanis frowned, still trying to follow what the whisp was telling him.

“What do you mean ‘hot cold’?” He asked, perplexed.

“Mama say ‘hot’… Papa shake….” Manfred rattled his bones once again, as he mimed shivering and chattering his teeth in illustration. Lucanis’s frown deepened, as as what Manfred was describing was clearly a high fever.

“Well, you’d best take them their tea.” He said, already mentally running through the nourishing broth he intended to make as soon as the bread was in the oven. “I will bring them breakfast as soon as I have something ready.” Manfred nodded, removing the infuser from the teapot and tossing the leaves into the fire. He made a bit of a production of rinsing the infuser clean and putting it away, before putting the lid on the teapot and carefully placing it on the tray he had prepared.

“Goodbye!” Manfred said cheerfully to Lucanis, then hurried from the room with his tray. Manfred liked Lucanis, almost as much as he liked Spite. Spite was almost as fun to play with as Assan, but Lucanis took such good care of Mama that it was impossible for Manfred not to love him at least a little bit. Returning to the tower, he carefully climbed the stairs to Rook’s room, where he entered quietly, in case Mama had gone back to sleep. Setting down the tea tray on the table next to the chaise, Manfred turned to survey his parents, finding Mama once again occupied with swabbing Papa’s face and neck with the cloth and water Manfred had brought her earlier. Kai sat nearby, watching over her in silence. Emmrich was tossing his head back and forth against the arm of the chaise, groaning in protest, although he didn’t truly appear to be awake. Manfred also noticed that his shivering had subsided at least.

“Mama, tea!” Manfred hissed proudly, and Rook looked up in surprise.

“Oh!” She gasped, frowning a bit, as if she hadn’t even noticed him leave to fulfill the healer’s request. “Thank you, Manfred.” Her lips twitched briefly into a pale caricature of a smile; even Manfred did not find it convincing, but he appreciated that she had made the effort. Without another word, Manfred set about preparing her cup of tea. A dollop of honey, a squirt of lemon, stirring — three turns — and he presented the cup to her with a half-bow. With a sigh, Rook laid aside the cloth, taking the cup, her hand shaking noticeably. Manfred hissed in concern, reaching forward to gently steady her hand, the same as he did when she nursed Elannora. With Manfred’s help, she took a sip of the tea, then another, trying to ignore the way her stomach roiled and clenched, breathing shakily through the nausea. Manfred took the cup from her and placed it back on the tray, eyeing her with concern.

“Mama, sick.” He said it like an accusation, and Rook sighed again.

“I will be all right, Manfred.” She told him, drawing another sharp, shuddering breath.

“My Lady?” Kai’s gentle voice intruded, their eyes intent on the way Rook’s right arm had moved unconsciously to press against her stomach, shoulders bowing.

“I will be all right….” Rook repeated, sounding a bit like she was trying to convince herself. Her trembling was worsening gradually, and Manfred reached over to pat her hair as he had seen Emmrich do many times. She raised her head with obvious effort, looking at him, forcing a smile, and then all at once, she was crying, great heaving sobs racking her frail body. Manfred stared at his Mama in alarm, then glanced towards Kai, as if seeking help. Although she had been terribly upset the whole time, not once during Emmrich’s absence had she cried. This was not the response Manfred had expected to his touch, and he drew back, gurgling in distress.

Kai moved forward, sinking to their knees as they laid a hand on Rook’s heaving back, carefully starting to weave healing over her once again. A nudge of power allowed her nausea to subside, another urged the clenched muscles of her back and shoulders to release, but as those small ills were addressed, they became aware of the underlying problem. Rook’s heart had lost its rhythm again, and was clenching, in powerful spasms. Very carefully, the healer let their magic delve deeper into Rook’s clamouring body, seeking to ease whatever was causing the seizure. All at once, a blinding wave of magic pushed back against Kai’s healing, ejecting their very senses from Rook’s body, and somehow bodily throwing them back to sprawl on the floor with a startled cry. They were aware of a questioning hiss from Manfred, and they struggled to draw breath to answer, their vision still murky.

“What’s happening?” Lucanis’s voice was sharp as he let himself into the room, carrying a platter that appeared to hold a selection of leftovers from the previous evening’s dinner. He hurriedly set the platter down and moved to crouch over Kai, helping the healer to sit up. The healer gasped for breath, unable to answer, and Lucanis turned to Manfred, who was still petting Rook’s hair like Papa would do, being very careful not to let her tangled curls catch in his knuckles. “Rook?…” Lucanis moved to stand beside Manfred, frowning as he looked down at Rook, struggling to breathe through the unbearable constriction in her chest.

Lucanis found himself at a loss, looking back and forth between Kai, still sitting on the floor, legs splayed awkwardly before them, looking dazed, and Rook, huddled against Emmrich’s unconscious form on the chaise, chest heaving as she fought for air. All at once, the assassin’s focus narrowed to his dearest friend, his assassin’s training allowing him to keenly observe her laboured breathing, her heart straining to do its job, the muscle twitching feebly now, in place of the strong pulses her body desperately needed. He sank to one knee, reaching to cup her cheek in his hand.

“Rook.” His voice was gentle now, insistent. “Can you hear me querida?” She managed a tense nod, breathing in jerky wheezes, and he smiled faintly in relief. “Rook, I know it hurts, pequeña, try to relax… breathe….” He murmured, stroking her cheek softly. “I know I’m not Emmrich, querida, but he’s right here, and he needs you, you know.” He went on, his voice soothing. “He loves you more than anything, and he needs you to be all right.” He could feel her breathing easing, her heart settling gradually into a steadier beat pattern. “That’s it….” Lucanis’s voice was a whisper now, watching as her eyelids began to droop. “You’re all right, querida. Rest….” When he straightened with a long sigh, Kai was staring at him.

“Thank you.” The healer said softly, still looking a bit disoriented. “That was….” They trailed off, frowning a bit. “I don’t think I’ll be able to heal her anymore. Her magic rejected mine quite decisively.”

“Magic can do that?” Lucanis asked, startled, and Kai nodded.

“A sufficiently powerful mage can shield themself from some intrusive magics, sometimes without even consciously choosing to do so.” They explained sombrely, their gaze straying back to Rook. “The Professor and his Lady are both extremely powerful, and thus we’ve had to proceed very carefully in healing them, especially while unconscious or otherwise vulnerable. Rook’s magic decided that my probing was a threat and blocked me out. Forcefully.”

“Are you hurt?” Lucanis asked next, and Kai shook their head.

“No, just winded from the hit.” They assured him. They got carefully to their feet, seemingly assessing themself at every step. Lucanis watched them closely, but was eventually satisfied with what he saw, waiting until they were settled in one of the nearby chairs before wordlessly offering them one of the cheese tarts left over from the previous night’s supper. Kai nodded in thanks and took an appreciative bite, then found themself frowning thoughtfully as the looked from the food in their hand to Rook and back again.

“You’ve thought of something.” Lucanis prompted them, his voice gentle but resolute.

“Myrna mentioned that Rook hadn’t been eating properly.” Kai began slowly, clearly still working through the thought in their head, even as they spoke it aloud. “And these symptoms only started once she started eating again.”

“She’s still not eating enough!” Lucanis burst out, but Kai raised a hand to quell the outburst.

“Her body is already under strain to keep Elannora fed, which requires very specific nutrients, and if they are not available from the food she is eating, they can be stripped directly from her body.” They went on, watching the look of dawning horror as it spread across Lucanis’s face. “But those same nutrients are just as necessary for her survival as they are for the baby’s, and she’s already losing them to feed Elannora, so even as she’s starting to eat again, she’s not getting enough of what she desperately needs.”

“Wait… necessary for her survival….” Lucanis echoed slowly. “Are you saying this could kill her?” He demanded incredulously. Kai nodded solemnly.

“The links between muscles and nerves are starting to break down. I’m amazed that she’s still able to nurse Elannora at all, at this point. Usually the body will shut down milk production in self-preservation at a certain point.” They explained heavily.

“So what do we do? How do we fix this?” Lucanis demanded, and Kai stared at him, blinking, completely at a loss for what to say to him.

“I need… to visit the Necropolis library.” They said, frowning. “The medical collection there is extensive…. I will consult with other healers, and we will devise a plan on how to proceed. In the meantime, I will ask my colleague Healer Dierdre to come and look to Emmrich and Rook until I can return. They both know her, and I think she and Rook get along quite well.” Lucanis was nodding slowly.

“In the meantime, is there anything I can do?” He asked uncertainly.

“She needs to eat.” Kai began with the obvious truth. “But not too much at a time, and on a regular schedule. It is likely her body has forgotten how to determine when and how much she needs to eat. She will not know when she is hungry, nor will she be able to tell when she has had enough.” They explained. “It is likely those senses will return eventually, but until then, we must do it for her.” Lucanis nodded, committing everything Kai said to memory, his focus intense. “She must eat three meals every day, and may also have up to three snacks in between. The most important thing is she must never go more than three hours without eating anything.” Lucanis nodded at each point as Kai outlined them.

“I need to get back to the kitchen….” Lucanis said, belatedly remembering the bread in the oven. He turned to Manfred, who snapped to attention.

“I guard!” The whisp declared fervently, and Lucanis nodded with an approving smile.

“I will have Dierdre here as soon as I can.” Kai assured them both, heading immediately for the Eluvian.

By the time Dierdre made her way to the Lighthouse from the Necropolis, the bread had been rescued — only slightly darker than usual, thank the Maker — breakfast had been shared by Taash and the Dellamortes in the dining hall, and then Lucanis and Neve had prepared a tray and headed to the meditation room to see to Rook and Emmrich. Rook was relatively easy to rouse, although somewhat harder to induce to eat a bit. Her stomach was still unsettled, twisting and cramping in protest, even as she attempted to choke down the food that was pressed upon her. Emmrich, on the other hand, was still deep in the throes of his fever, and proved impossible to wake.

Rook returned to her task of swabbing her husband’s flushed face with the cool cloth, and Neve used another cloth, this one fully saturated with cool water, to very carefully, patiently trickle the moisture his body so desperately needed into his slack mouth, hoping that at least some of it would end up swallowed. Both women were murmuring reassurances to the older mage, in a broken mix of Trade, Nevarran, Tevene, and Elvhen. Lucanis, trusting that the ladies had the situation well in hand, took the remains of breakfast, and headed back to the kitchen to begin cleaning up. Manfred looked on, but stayed out of the way. A quiet knock on the door drew everyone’s attention, and Manfred hurried to answer it, opening the door wide with a bow when he saw the healer there.

“Dee’dee” He greeted her with apparent gladness, and she smiled softly at his attempt to pronounce her name, knowing that the lack of a tongue made the letter r nearly impossible to articulate properly.

“Hello Manfred.” She returned the greeting, stepping into the room at his welcoming gesture. “I’ve come to check on your parents.” She told him unnecessarily, and he nodded earnestly.

“Papa sleep.” Manfred informed her, and she nodded, turning to the two women who were ministering to Emmrich.

“Have you had something to eat, my Lady?” She asked, moving to kneel alongside Rook, her gaze moving to Neve, nodding in approval at what she saw before returning to Rook.

“Not hungry….” Rook muttered mutinously, and Dierdre opened her mouth to protest. “But yes.” Rook cut her off, and Dierdre nodded again, satisfied.

“And how do you feel?” She asked next, noting as she did so that Rook looked utterly terrible.

“Can’t… get my breath….” Rook admitted reluctantly, her good hand moving unconsciously to press against her chest.

“Any pain?” Dierdre asked intently, watching with a frown.

“Not pain… just… tight… shaky… dizzy….” Rook replied haltingly. Dierdre extended a hand towards Rook’s pale face, stopping just short of touching her.

“May I?” She asked softly. Rook nodded, but she looked doubtful.

“I can’t promise the same thing won’t happen….” She said vaguely, but of course Kai had explained to Dierdre what had happened earlier with her magic, and she simply nodded.

“I understand, my Lady.” She said simply, softly bringing her hand into contact with Rook’s cheek, and reaching inward. Rook held herself stiffly, focusing on keeping her own magic quiescent, terrified that she was going to lash out again, as she had earlier, haunted by the possibility that she might hurt someone this time. Since Kai had given her some idea of what she was looking for, Dierdre was easily able to recognise some of the worst effects of the dangerous imbalance that they had described to her. The signals that passed from nerves to muscles, giving the instructions needed for normal function and movement were being impeded, the pathways degrading as a result of the lack of necessary components for their maintenance. The heart muscle itself was clearly straining, and the weight of even Rook’s gaunt flesh seemed too heavy for her lungs to fight against. The touch of Dierdre’s magic was delicate, and Rook’s own power remained dormant as the healer worked, causing Rook to sigh in relief, feeling her breathing ease slightly, the weak wobbly feeling inside her dissipating.

“Oh, that’s better!” She whispered faintly, her relief palpable, and Dierdre smiled in satisfaction. “Now… about Emmrich?” Rook prompted, turning her attention back to her husband, who remained insensate next to her. Dierdre turned her focus to him as well, very gently skimming her hand over the bandages on his shoulder, down his arm, to his hand. Here she paused, probing carefully with precise tendrils of magic.

“The infection has run its course.” The healer said, opening her eyes and withdrawing her hand with a calm smile. “He will be all right.”

“He’s still so hot….” Rook murmured, distressed, her right hand pressing to Emmrich’s flushed brow, caressing his heated skin tenderly, as he muttered something unintelligible and tried to turn his face away from her cool touch.

“Yes, it will take some time for his temperature to return to normal.” Dierdre explained patiently. “But he is through the worst of it.” The flood of relief that surged through Rook brought tears to her eyes, and she blinked fiercely, trying to force them back. “It’s all right, my Lady. He is all right.” The healer reassured. “Now, rest, my dear Lady.” Dierdre’s voice grew even more soothing, and Rook wondered briefly if there was some magic at work, as she felt herself relaxing under its influence, carefully inserting herself back into Emmrich’s one-armed embrace, feeling a warm burst of comfort as his strong left arm curled around her instinctively. Closing her eyes, she let sleep claim her once again.

When Emmrich woke, he felt blessedly cool, in spite of Rook’s presence, pressed as close against him as she could reasonably get. He opened his eyes, feeling weak and heavy in every part of him, barely able to summon the energy to turn his head. Dierdre was dozing in a chair nearby, which prompted a furrow of confusion between his brows. When did she get here? And where was Kai? Then Manfred caught sight of his movement, and hurried over, giving a quiet hiss of delight to see him awake and looking around.

“Hello Manfred.” Emmrich greeted his son in an equally quiet voice, not wishing to disturb the healer, nor the elf he still held against his chest. “How long was I out?”

“Night… day… night….” Manfred replied thoughtfully, and Emmrich nodded in thanks before squeezing his eyes shut against a wave of dizziness. “Papa?” Manfred’s voice was a little louder, a little harsher, and Rook stirred with a faint moan.

“I’m all right….” He whispered, tilting his head very carefully to press his lips to Rook’s brow, and she settled with a soft sigh. Emmrich smiled weakly. “Just a bit… dizzy….” He admitted, also becoming aware of his throat’s dryness. “And thirsty….” Manfred gave an eager hiss, turning to the table where there were still a pitcher full of water and a small stack of glasses. He filled one of the glasses with water and moved to support Emmrich’s head so he could drink, carefully limiting him to a few small sips at a time, as Dierdre had instructed him before settling down for her nap. By the time Emmrich had finished drinking, Rook was stirring again, and he sighed, nuzzling his cheek against the top of her head, closing his eyes again as the movement prompted renewed dizziness.

“Emmrich?…” Her voice sounded even weaker than he felt, and he bit his lip, hearing it.

“Yes, darling….” He murmured, and she sighed in relief against his chest. “How are you feeling?”

“I should be asking you that!” She objected, and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“I feel about as steady as a newborn deer.” He told her reluctantly. “But I’m fine….”

“You were unconscious for more than a full day.” She said flatly.

“And just before that, I found you out cold next to a puddle of your own sick.” He countered, his voice coming out harsher than intended. She flinched, rearing back from him with a whimper, the hurt in her eyes tearing at him. “I’m sorry, dearest.” He whispered, trembling as he stared at her, his eyes wide, and his voice wavering to match. “I feel that I’ve failed you… quite completely….”

“Emmrich….” Her fingertips pressed against his lips cut off anything further he might have said, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “You could never fail me…. You deserve so much better than me, and so does Elannora….”

“What are you talking about, darling?” He demanded, his voice rising in both pitch and volume along with his emotions, a yawning sense of panic filling him. Her palm moved to press against his mouth now, as she went on.

“You would both be better off without me… dragging you down… weak… worthless….” Her words began to stumble as the tears that she held back threatened to choke her.

“What’s going on here?” Dierdre’s voice was deceptively mild, and Manfred, who had been watching the proceedings with mounting horror, hissed in agreement. Rook stared at the healer in apparent incomprehension, blinking a few times, causing the tears to spill down her blanched cheeks.

“Lilya… please… please don’t talk like that….” Emmrich mumbled against her hand. “I can’t do this without you, my love, I need you, and so does Elannora!”

“Manfred, why don’t you go see if Lucanis needs any help preparing breakfast.” Dierdre said, her voice still level, although her face betrayed her alarm. Whatever she had expected upon waking, this had not been it. Manfred hissed in assent, giving his parents one last, devastated glance before hurrying from the room. “How are you feeling, Professor Volkarin?” She asked next, but her eyes never strayed from Rook’s face. Since Emmrich’s fever had broken, the healer was much less concerned about him, but given the argument she had awakened in the middle of, she suspected she would get nothing from Rook without first assuring herself of his recovery. Wordlessly, she prayed that he would understand that and simply answer the question. He shot her a disbelieving look, which she ignored, still watching Rook closely.

“I am feeling much better, thank you, healer.” He replied mildly, cottoning on immediately, and he noted the slight sag of her shoulders in her relief.

“And what of you, my Lady?” Dierdre asked next, her tone still serene, in sharp contrast to the intensity of her gaze.

“I… I’m all right….” Rook said vaguely.

“Breathing all right?” Dierdre prompted, drawing a puzzled look from Rook.

“How did you…?” She trailed off, tilting her head quizzically, then closing her eyes with a faint whine as dizziness assailed her again. Now, Dierdre moved, leaning forward and reaching over to very gently touch two fingertips to Rook’s temple.

“Easy….” She murmured, gently pressing a burst of healing into her. “Relax… lean on Emmrich; we’ve got you.” Emmrich sagged in relief, wrapping his good arm around her as she returned to his embrace, but she seemed dazed.

“It’s all right, darling…. It’s all right….” He murmured, swaying slightly to rock her soothingly. The door opened without a sound, and Vorgoth entered, taking in Emmrich and Rook, entwined on the chaise, and Healer Dierdre working her magic alongside them, in an instant.

“LILYA….” Emmrich realised this was the first time he had heard Vorgoth use Rook’s given name, although he was well aware that they had known each other prior to the War of the Banners, prior to Rook’s exile, prior to Varric giving her her new name. The tenderness with which Vorgoth said it took his breath away. Rook raised her head in surprise, not having noticed the robed figure’s silent entrance, and her white face crumpled in sudden tears.

“Daddy….” She whispered, reaching for them. Emmrich stared, barely even feeling the rebuff as Vorgoth swooped closer, black-draped arms wrapping around her, drawing her in, and she clung to them, starting to sob brokenly.

“LILYA… SWEET LILYA…. PRECIOUS CHILD….” Emmrich became aware that he was not the only one staring as Vorgoth cradled Rook tenderly, their voice a mere whisper, a susurrant litany of comfort. Dierdre seemed to remember herself after a moment, and closed her mouth, which had fallen open in shock. Emmrich was somewhat relieved that he was not the only one who had not been aware that this side of Vorgoth existed. “HEALER KAI SUGGESTED THAT YOU MIGHT REQUIRE SUPPORT.” These words were addressed equally to Emmrich and Dierdre, who both nodded, and were both still staring.

“Thank you for coming, my Lord Vorgoth.” Dierdre said finally, and Vorgoth gave a rasping laugh.

“I SHOULD HAVE COME SOONER.” They mused. “I SHOULD HAVE COME AS SOON AS MYRNA WAS OBLIGED TO RETURN.” Rook’s good hand had snaked its way inside their robes, fingers splayed flat against the amorphous substance of Vorgoth themself, and one of their large, gloved hands was stroking her hair softly. “FORGIVE ME, LITTLE ONE.” Vorgoth whispered as they cradled her, their formidable magic beginning to work on her.

As he watched in silence, Emmrich found himself remembering their wedding day. He had been terribly nervous in his finest robes, every part of him glittering with grave gold, trying not to fidget as he waited before the altar, deep within the Necropolis. Lucanis and Davrin stood at his shoulder, both resplendent, Davrin in his warden armour, polished to a high shine, the blue accents gleaming in the omnipresent fadelight, Lucanis in sleek, dark leathers, accented with blue-black crows’ feathers, both watching appreciatively as Bellara and Neve progressed down the aisle between the gathered guests, looking utterly lovely in their gowns.

Emmrich knew that a great deal of thought had gone into the ladies’ attire, the aim to produce gowns that clearly went together, while allowing each woman her own individual style. Neve was clad in vibrant teal, the silk gathered beneath her breasts, the skirt sheathing her tightly all the way to her ankles, a high slit allowing her to walk, and also allowing brief glimpses of the upper edge of a stocking, and the shining clasp of a garter high on her left thigh, which was no doubt driving Lucanis to distraction. Bellara’s gown was of simpler design, its colour closer to green than Neve’s, similarly high-waisted, but with a full skirt that flowed in a rippling cascade of silk that fluttered and swirled as she moved.

Emmrich heard the twin gasps from behind him, both sounding equally strangled, equally stunned, but in truth, he was barely paying attention, too eager for his first glimpse of his bride. And then she was walking towards him, her steps slow and measured, the white of her gown shading ever so slightly into a silver that exactly matched the shroud’s kiss in the bouquet she cradled in her right elbow, complimenting the vibrant lilacs they interspersed. Her left hand was poised delicately on Vorgoth’s gloved wrist, as they escorted her down the aisle. At the time, Emmrich hadn’t thought anything of it, assuming that Vorgoth had been chosen for the honour has representative of the Necropolis itself, given that Rook had been discovered abandoned in the crypts as a baby. Now he realised that Vorgoth was in fact the closest thing to a Father that Rook had ever known.

Feeling calmer than he had before he and Taash took their ill-fated trip to Rivain, Emmrich settled back against the raised arm of the chaise, still watching Vorgoth and Rook through half-lidded eyes, until his exhaustion overcame him, drawing him into deep, healing sleep.

Chapter Text

Emmrich woke to a strange sound, like gentle wind rustling through dead leaves, and it took him a moment to realise that what he was hearing was the sound of Vorgoth singing. He opened his eyes to find that they had sat down on the floor next to the chaise where Emmrich lay, still holding Rook in their arms, and they were singing to her. Emmrich did not recognise the words, but the melody was familiar. It was an old Nevarran lullaby, one which he felt sure his own mother had sung to him somewhere in his early childhood, but the language in which Vorgoth sang was far older. Watching in silence, Emmrich noticed that Rook’s cheeks had a bit of colour to them, and he smiled in relief at the sight. Somehow, the shift in emotion drew Vorgoth’s attention, and they turned their head to look at him, letting their singing trail away into calm silence.

“SHE WILL BE ALL RIGHT.” Their voice was the same tender whisper, and he nodded, seeing no reason to doubt the calm certainty it conveyed. “ILLNESSES SUCH AS HERS ARE FAR MORE DIFFICULT TO HEAL THAN WOUNDS AND INJURIES, BUT HAVING YOU WHOLE AGAIN WILL HELP.” Emmrich blinked in surprise at that, realising belatedly that his own pain was entirely gone. He turned his head to stare at his own right arm, seeing that the bandages were gone, and while his flesh was deeply scarred, it was also completely healed.

“Thank you, my Lord.” He whispered fervently, raising his arm slowly, bending and turning it this way and that experimentally.

“WE SHOULD HAVE COME SOONER.” Vorgoth repeated what they had said when they first arrived, and then both Emmrich and Vorgoth turned their attention back to Rook.

“She said we would be better off without her.” Emmrich whispered, his voice breaking. “She called herself weak and worthless….”

“AH….” Vorgoth sighed, gently easing Rook into Emmrich’s embrace, smoothing a gloved hand over her hair one final time in parting. “AT TIMES THE HEART TELLS LIES TO THE HEAD.” Emmrich nodded, wrapping both arms around Rook, with a sigh of relief. “AND SOMETIMES THE HEAD IS MORE INCLINED TO TRUST THE CRUEL WORDS THAT COME FROM WITHIN THAN THE KIND ONES SPOKEN BY THOSE WE LOVE.”

“How did I never know you were her Father?” Emmrich asked softly. Vorgoth’s chuckle was a soft rumble of distant thunder.

“YOU NEVER ASKED.” They said simply. “LILYA LEARNED AT A YOUNG AGE THAT IT WOULD NOT DO TO TRADE ON OUR RELATIONSHIP.

“I would imagine she never needed to.” Emmrich commented.

“YOU WOULD BE CORRECT.”

Although they would never admit it, sometimes Vorgoth would indulge the playful nature of the whisps in the Shrouded Halls, flitting amongst the tombs, playing hide and seek. It was during one such play session that they first heard the crying. It was a strange sound for the deep Necropolis, alien, and Vorgoth followed the sound, searching for the source. At first, the whisps were petulant at the interruption of their game, but once Vorgoth was able to make them understand what had drawn their attention, it became a race to see who could find what was making the sound first. Vorgoth had the advantage in this game, because they were far more powerful than their playmates, and also because they had some idea of what they were looking for: This was the sound of a young living creature in distress.

They swooped through the chambers, searching areas rarely frequented by the living, as the sound grew louder, and eventually they found it. A small open crate, a single threadbare blanket, a wholly inadequate nest for what was clearly a tiny elvhen child. It’s weeping sounded desperate, tiny face scrunched with distress, but instead of being flushed with emotion the tiny being’s skin was taking on an ominous blueish tinge in the chill of the crypts. Moving closer, Vorgoth hesitated as they eyed the baby, knowing that they could not leave it here, but worried that their own chill would do more harm than good if they were to touch it. After a moment’s consideration, they infused the child’s meagre covering with magic, soft warmth permeating the fabric. They conjured a second blanket for good measure, wrapping the babe in thick wool, and then picked it up, crate and all, leaving that extra layer of protection between the wailing infant and the cold of their ancient essence.

Holding their strange burden close, Vorgoth hurried to one of the open shafts that would allow them quick access to the higher levels of the Necropolis, having no need to avail themself of the temperamental lift that the living had to rely on. Reaching the first of the surface levels, they went immediately in search of Myrna. As Keeper of the Seals, her office was on the main floor, not far from the large communal dining hall, and Vorgoth had come to deeply respect her, so they could think of no one better to bring this problem to. Their hands full with the crate containing the baby, they allowed the wind of their approach to Myrna’s door to rattle it in its frame, knowing she would understand that as a knock. Sure enough, the response came almost immediately.

“Come in, Vorgoth.” They could hear the smile in her tone, and they entered quietly. Myrna was seated behind her desk, and she tilted her head curiously as Vorgoth entered, carrying their burden carefully. The child had fallen quiet, apparently lulled by the movement of Vorgoth’s flight from the lower levels, but now it began to whimper again. “What have you got there?” She asked, and Vorgoth moved wordlessly to deposit the crate on top of Myrna’s desk. “Spirits!” Myrna hissed in shock, staring at the tiny face blinking up at her. “Where did you find this?”

“IN THE LOWER CRYPTS.” Vorgoth replied, resting their gloved hands against the edge of the desk. “IT WAS CRYING.”

“I’m not surprised!” Myrna exclaimed, bending down to pick up the baby, cradling it close against her breast. “Hello, little one. Where did you come from?” She murmured as she looked the child over, both with her eyes and her healer’s senses. “Poor thing… she’s freezing!” Myrna sat down, still cuddling the tiny form close. “How in Death’s name did an elvhen baby end up in the lower crypts?” She demanded, looking up at Vorgoth as if they might have an answer.

“IT WILL NEED CARE.” Was the only response Vorgoth gave, and Myrna smiled a bit ruefully, nodding.

“Of course, I shall look into finding her an appropriate foster home.” Vorgoth hesitated, their head canting towards the babe in Myrna’s arms, allowing her to imagine the thoughtful frown on their nonexistent face.

“PERHAPS IT SHOULD REMAIN WITH US.” Vorgoth suggested with every evidence of uncertainty, and Myrna blinked up at them in surprise.

“Perhaps she should.” She murmured with gentle emphasis on the pronoun. “Just remember that most humanoids object to referring to a living being as ‘it’.”

“NOTED.” Vorgoth’s acknowledgment was a gusting sigh. “SHE WILL NEED A NAME.”

“She will, but I feel that honour should fall to the one who rescued her from the crypts.” Myrna countered, a playful smile on her lips.

“US?” Vorgoth sounded startled. “YOU WISH FOR US TO NAME A LIVING CREATURE?”

“You have already volunteered to raise her, who better to give her a name?” Myrna shot back, definitely amused now. “If you are to be her Father.” She concluded with deliberate emphasis. Vorgoth actually gasped at her choice of words.

“FATHER….” They echoed blankly, and this time Myrna did allow herself a soft laugh, causing Vorgoth to draw themself up indignantly.

“It was your suggestion that she ‘remain with you’, as you put it, but you hesitate over terminology?” Her tone became challenging, but she was still smiling. Vorgoth shook their hooded head, marveling, not for the first time, at the strange things that could amuse the living.

"WE SHALL HAVE TO… CONSIDER THE MATTER.” Vorgoth said carefully, still watching as Myrna continued to cuddle the elfling.

“Don’t take too long; she deserves a name.” Myrna told them firmly.

The lifetimes of mortals are but a blink of an eye to a creature like Vorgoth, so the following years passed in a blur of half-remembered episodes. Freshly-named Lilya, giggling with utter delight as Vorgoth flew her playfully through the Memorial Gardens, blithely ignoring any judgmental looks that were sent their way. Lilya at about eight years of age, eyes serious as she took up her first mage’s staff and moved her few belongings into the apprentices’ quarters in the Necropolis. Emmrich found himself wondering briefly where she had lived before that — so far as he knew, Vorgoth had no living quarters. Lilya, obviously torn between mortification and deep amusement, as a spell gone wrong sent her own course notes, and very nearly her professor’s hair, up in flames. Myrna and Vorgoth, watching proudly, as Lilya was inducted as a junior member of the Mourn Watch, at the tender age of fifteen.

Lilya was nineteen when the conflict that came to be known as the War of the Banners broke out. Although the conflict was largely between opposing forces of undead, the lesser dead were not terribly selective of who they attacked, making travel through the lower levels extremely dangerous. At her wits’ end, Myrna had tasked Lilya with putting together a small team to go down and quell the uprising. The team was gone for the better part of a week, and Vorgoth had just decided that the Keeper of the Seals did not, in fact, have their beloved child’s best interests at heart, and resolved to go in search of the missing group. They had resolved to begin in the lower crypt where they had first discovered Lilya as a baby, and then carry on their search from there, but no sooner had they swept into the vertical shaft to begin their descent then a sound of a distant explosion reached them from far below.

All at once, the usual whisper of wind that accompanied Vorgoth’s movement became a shrieking gale, leaving icy whirlwinds in their wake as they tore down into the depths, following the lingering echoes even as they subsided into cries of suffering. The closer they drew to the scene of the commotion, the easier it became to track by sound. There were clearly survivors, but most were beyond words with pain and fear. As they approached, they also became aware of the lingering scent of lightning and flame, a sure sign that Lilya was in some way involved. The chamber was unfamiliar, a cavernous expanse of darkness and bone dust, which still had not settled in the wake of the explosion Vorgoth had heard minutes earlier.

Dismembered skeletons lay scattered everywhere, the spirits that had animated them long since fled in the aftermath of the recent conflict. Many of the bones were broken, splintered, shattered by the forces that had been unleashed upon them. And then there were the living. First there were some corpses, apparently torn by undead claws before being flung with the same abandon as the remains of the dead. A quick survey of the parts in evidence led Vorgoth to estimate a minimum of three casualties among the Watchers. Further along, they found the survivors. Half a dozen young mages and reapers were huddled behind the inadequate cover provided by an ancient stone wall more than half crumbled from sheer age. There were moans and wails, one young warrior was sobbing hysterically, but nowhere among the voices could Vorgoth hear the one they sought.

“LILYA???” Their voice was the roar of a tempest, and the others fell silent for a moment, heads turning to stare as Vorgoth swooped to where they were gathered.

“She’s here, my Lord!” One shaky voice called out, and Vorgoth darted toward them. Lilya lay unconscious, her face pale and bloodied, her breathing barely stirring her breast, and for the first time in ages beyond counting, Vorgoth felt fear course through them.

“ARE ANY OTHERS AS BADLY DAMAGED?” They asked, trying not to sound as worried as they felt, but their voice booming frantically in the echoing chamber.

“I don’t believe so, my Lord.” The Watcher replied.

“WE SHALL SEND AID.” Vorgoth intoned, all of their usual calm serenity quite absent, as they stooped to gather Lilya’s unresisting form into their arms, as they had not done since she was a child. Without waiting for an answer, they took off, returning the way they had come, the icy winds of the lower Necropolis whipping by them, but their voluminous robes sheltering the young woman from the worst of it as they held her protectively close. Reaching the surface, they made immediately for the infirmary, sending the place into an uproar with their entrance.

“FIND LADY MYRNA, IMMEDIATELY!” Vorgoth thundered, turning to very gently settle Lilya on one of the beds. By the time Myrna arrived, they were dividing their attention between supervising a healer who was working on Lilya, and giving instructions for the rescue party that would have to go down after the rest of her team. Without wasting words, Myrna moved to assist the healer, and Vorgoth turned their full attention on the volunteers who would be accompanying them to the lower levels.

“THERE MAY BE FIGHTING. BE CERTAIN YOU ARE PREPARED.” Vorgoth told three apprehensive-looking healers.

“Aberlin and Mendelsohn are available to accompany you.” Myrna said without looking up, and the same orderly who had gone to find her nodded once and hurried from the room again. Once Vorgoth was satisfied that their team was as prepared as they could be for the forthcoming expedition, they turned their attention back to Lilya. With Myrna’s assistance, the healer had stabilised her, and now she could have been resting peacefully, to look at her.

“SHE WILL RECOVER.” It was not a question, it was a command, and Myrna sighed deeply.

“She’s strong, Vorgoth.” She assured them. “Give her time.” The hooded head nodded curtly.

“YOU WILL STAY WITH HER.” Again, not a question.

“I will not leave her side.” Myrna promised. “Go.”

By the time Vorgoth returned with the missing team, the healers having done what they could for them in situ before escorting them back to the surface, the Necropolis resembled nothing so much as an anthill that had been kicked. Although the details of what had happened below were currently known only to those who had witnessed it, and Vorgoth and their recovery team, it was obvious that whatever it was would have serious repercussions, and the Mourn Watch’s gossip mill was churning madly with rumour and speculation. As Vorgoth brought their charges to the infirmary and reported to Myrna, the furor only increased, as the news they brought was dire indeed.

“THE CONFLICT WAS BETWEEN HOUSES VAN MARKHAM AND ANAXAS.” Vorgoth informed the Keeper of the Seals. “THE RINGLEADERS HAVE BEEN DESTROYED. UTTERLY.” Myrna felt a surge of dread at the news, her gaze straying to Lilya’s unconscious form.

“Do you mean to tell me,” she began, fighting to maintain calm, “that the remains of the foremost members of both House Van Markham and House Anaxas have been destroyed?” There was a lengthy pause, and then Vorgoth nodded heavily.

“UTTERLY.” The repetition of the word gave it dreadful emphasis, and Myrna winced.

“She will not be safe once word gets out.” She said darkly. A gusting sigh emanated from Vorgoth’s shadowed hood.

“SHE WILL NOT.” Came the simple agreement. “SHE CANNOT STAY HERE. WE MUST GET HER OUT, AND SOON.”

Vorgoth fell silent, and Emmrich realised that Rook was awake in his arms, although she had seemed content to listen silently as Vorgoth told his tale.

“You never told me….” Her voice was scarcely audible, as she stared at Vorgoth, tears in her eyes.

“YOU WERE NOT SAFE.” Vorgoth said simply. “WE COULD NOT HAVE THAT, SO WE ACTED.”

“I thought you had abandoned me!” She exclaimed, and Emmrich could feel her starting to shake against him. "I thought you had abandoned me like they abandoned me!" Without thinking, he started to rub her back with his right hand, and she froze, turning to blink at him in shock. “Your hand….” She quavered, staring at him in confusion.

“Oh!” Emmrich couldn’t suppress the smile that came to his face, then. “Your Father has healed me, completely.” He told her, giving her a light squeeze with both arms in illustration.

“WE HAVE DONE WHAT WE COULD.” Vorgoth put in, sounding almost apologetic. “YOUR OWN ILLNESS IS QUITE A BIT MORE COMPLEX THAN THE KNITTING OF FLESH AND BONE.” Rook sighed heavily, nodding.

“Thank you, Daddy.” She whispered.

“YOU ARE WELCOME, LITTLE FLOWER.”

Chapter Text

Vorgoth understood, just as the living healers had understood, that their presence would not be welcomed in Rook’s chamber at all hours, leaving the couple to rest unsupervised. However, they were also very clear to Emmrich that they would be haunting the laboratory with Manfred, and if their presence was required, all he would have to do was say their name, and they would come. Emmrich was grateful, both for the privacy thus afforded them, and also for the assurance that help would not be long in coming, if needed. He was still reveling in his renewed ability to fully hold Rook, both arms wrapped around her in a strong and loving embrace, and she had fallen asleep yet again, her head nestled against his chest.

He cradled her as if she were the most precious and fragile of treasures, trying not to dwell on her earlier assertions on her own value, or lack thereof. To him, she was the most important thing in the world, and the fact that she could not see that filled him with fear — fear that she might heed those thoughts, act on them. The idea that he might lose her to something as insidious as her own self-doubts was a choking weight, gripping his throat and chest, blurring his vision, as he clung to her, fighting to breathe.

“Emmrich?…” It was far from the first time Rook had awakened to find him in the grip of a panic attack. The first time had been the night after the fall of Weisshaupt; she had woken to a sense of something wrong, and leaving her room, had found Manfred hesitating at her door, as if trying to bring himself to knock.

“What’s wrong, Manfred?” She had asked, not expecting an answer. Manfred had given a distressed hissing gurgle, before hurrying off down the corridor, pausing when he reached the end to glance back, as if to make sure she was following. She had hurried after him, frowning as he led her into the laboratory, up the spiral stairs, and through a doorway that was usually concealed by bookshelves, to where Emmrich’s bedchamber lay hidden.

Recollection blended with the present as she looked into her husband’s eyes, the irises all but swallowed up in the dilation of his pupils, which stained his gaze black in the dim light. Wide though they were, his eyes were staring blankly, and he made no response as she called his name again. Sighing, she brought a hand up to his face, cupping his cheek tenderly. His face was covered with sweat, but his skin was pale and chill to the touch, his mouth gaping open, as he gasped helplessly for breath. He was still clutching her tightly against him, but she wrapped her arms around him in turn the best she could, without allowing him to perceive her as struggling. She could feel the racing of his heart, and felt her own speed up in response. She took a deep breath, striving for calm, willing her voice to remain low and tender, despite her concern.

“Emmrich… it’s all right my love…. I’m here… you’re safe…. It’s all right….” She knew that at this point it didn’t matter what she said, so long as her tone remained soothing, and she kept up the stream of loving words, feeling with relief as his heartrate and breathing slowly returned to normal. His grip on her slackened, and she raised her head again to gaze at him. He stared into her eyes, as though he was searching for something, and she tilted her head questioningly. “Emmrich?…” Her voice was tremulous and uncertain, now that the storm seemed to have passed, taking her calm with it. He raised one hand to her face, tracing the delicate bones of cheek and jaw with tender fingers.

“I’m all right, darling.” He murmured, leaning in to kiss her very softly. “Thank you….” She smiled a bit sadly.

“I didn’t really do anything.” She objected, and he shook his head, kissing her again.

“You did what you always do, my heart.” He countered. “You held me to you, and told me it would be all right. You soothed my deepest fear — the fear of losing you. As long as you are with me….” He trailed off, frowning, as she did not look convinced. “Lilya, my dearest love….” His voice was as soft and warm as she had ever heard, the tender endearments urging her to heed his words. “Do you remember the oath you made to me, on the day we married?” He asked seriously. She looked confused, but nodded slowly.

“Of course I do.” She said, her brow furrowing, wondering where he was going with this.

“Tell me, darling. What did you swear?” He murmured. She blushed, and he waited in silence, his smile tender as he watched her.

“I swore to give you all of myself… mind and heart, body and spirit….” Her voice was a whisper, and his smile warmed as he listened in rapt silence. Quiet though she was, her voice had fallen into a familiar cadence, which allowed him to picture her, practicing in front of a mirror until the recitation was perfect, as he had done. “To be your partner, and your lover, and the mother of your children…. Even when it’s difficult… even when….” She broke off, only now seeming to realise what she was about to say. He waited her out. “Even when it feels like I have nothing to give….” Her voice was stronger now as she went on. “Even when it feels like everything I am couldn’t possibly be enough.” She fell silent, tears welling in her eyes.

“Until the Maker calls us home.” He finished for her, gazing at her softly. “I made the same vow, my darling, and I meant every word of it. I know you did to.” She closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of his words, the tears spilling down her cheeks. “Stay with me… that’s all I ask.” He drew her close again, letting her hide her face against his chest, burying his lips in her hair. “Just stay with me… until the Maker calls us home.”

When the group reconvened for breakfast in the dining hall, the following morning, Rook was still quiet, still weak, but she seemed more present than she had at any point in the nearly two weeks that had passed since Emmrich and Taash had first departed on their mission. Enough so that the fact that Lucanis, Emmrich, Vorgoth, and Dierdre were all closely supervising her eating provoked a hot surge of annoyance that she did her best to suppress. She had given them ample cause to worry, she knew.

“How are you feeling, Rook?” Neve kept her tone casual, and Rook managed a small smile.

“My body still doesn’t seem to want to do quite what I want it to.” She said a bit ruefully. “Everything is just a little too slow… too hard… even breathing.” Neve’s gaze was sympathetic, but she was aware that Emmrich and Vorgoth were both listening intently, and Emmrich’s expression was unguarded in its concern. “It’s like… I know what I want to do, but it… takes a minute, from when I decide to move, to when my body actually responds.” Rook tried to explain further, her voice halting, making it clear that she was not exaggerated when she said that breathing was a challenge in and of itself. Emmrich frowned as he listened to her, but remained silent. “Even Vorgoth cannot heal me. He’s done what he can to help strengthen me, but… it’s still so hard….” She trailed off, drawing a deep, shuddering breath, eyes fluttering closed for a moment, in an attempt to stave off encroaching dizziness. Neve reached over in silence and laid a gentle hand on Rook’s knee, squeezing softly in support. Emmrich bit his lip, watching, but remained still, allowing Neve and Rook their moment without his interference, much as it pained him to do so.

“THANK YOU, PROFESSOR.” Vorgoth’s voice caught him off-guard, the quietest he had ever heard it, although it still rang with the same ancient depth as it always had. “IT SEEMS YOUR WORDS, THIS MORNING, HAD PRECISELY THE DESIRED EFFECT. WE ARE… GRATEFUL.” Emmrich sighed, having failed to consider the fact that if simply speaking Vorgoth’s name would be enough to summon them, that made it extremely likely that they would be similarly able to hear any other words that happened to be spoken. He swallowed hard, not having fully considered the repercussions of having Vorgoth as a father-in-law. The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the Caretaker, who presented a missive to Rook, and vanished again. Rook held up the envelope to show Bellara’s personal seal, which combined the Veil Jumpers sigil with that of the Veilguard, and then she opened it quickly, beginning to read aloud.

Hey Rook, and everybody,

There’s definitely something going on with the Elves and the Veil here. It’s almost as weird as Arlathan was when the Gods returned. Assuming Emmrich and Taash are back from their trip to Rivain, I think we could use the whole team down here, to figure this out. Kiss Elannora for me.

Love,
Bellara

Rook and Emmrich exchanged a look.

“I’m coming with you.” She said flatly, before he had a chance to speak. His eyes widened, fear surging through him, but she cut him off before he even began to voice his objections. “No! Emmrich, I’m not going to stay here where it’s safe while you could be gone for weeks at best! I won’t… I can’t! Please, love!” She broke off, gasping for breath, tears streaming freely down her pale cheeks, and he reached for her, gently wrapping his arms around her, and drawing her in.

“Breathe, darling.” He whispered, stroking her back. “I’m sorry… I understand….” For a few moments, the only sounds were the crackling of the fire, the not-quite-sobs of Rook’s laboured breathing, and Emmrich’s soft murmurs of comfort and support. Gradually, Rook’s breathing eased, and she fell quiet, and Emmrich breathed a deep sigh, still holding her close. “There now… you’re all right….” He whispered, nuzzling and kissing her hair softly. “Come now, my dear. Have a bit more to eat, and then we will begin our preparations for the journey.” Rook sighed in turn, seeming drained by emotion, but took a few more mechanical bites of her porridge.

Finished her own breakfast, Neve took her coffee cup with her, and headed to her study, where she began drafting a letter in reply to Bellara, apprising her of the events she had missed in the course of her mission, in the hopes of avoiding at least some of the difficult questions the Veil Jumper was likely to have. She was just waiting for the ink to dry before folding and sealing the missive, when Lucanis quietly joined her. Without a word, she held the missive out so he could read it, and he nodded in approval.

“Now all that remains is to decide: are we bringing Caz with us, or leaving him in Treviso with the Crows?” Neve voiced the question they were both thinking. Husband and wife sat in silence for a moment, both considering the question. “I don’t like the idea of being away from him for so long. It’s likely to be weeks, at best, just as Rook said, and it could be much longer….” Neve said at last, and Lucanis smiled, relieved to see that their thoughts were tending in the same direction. Without another word, he moved to the small adjoining nursery that the Lighthouse had obligingly provided so that Neve could have her son nearby without him being underfoot while she worked.

Having heard his parents’ voices nearby, Caz was sitting up, gumming happily on his carved gryphon — a gift from Davrin upon their first meeting — and watching expectantly as his father came into view. Lucanis’s grin was as wide and delighted as his son’s, as he moved to scoop him up, swinging him around in a joyful circle for the pleasure of hearing his peals of laughter. Caz grabbed a fistful of Lucanis’s long hair, and Lucanis winced a bit ruefully, but made no attempt to dissuade him.

“We’re going on an adventure, my son.” He told the little boy earnestly, and Caz responded with a solemn nod, which caused Lucanis’s eyes to crinkle affectionately. “Everybody is going, even Auntie Rook and Cousin Elannora.” He went on, a shadow crossing his face at the worry he could not quite suppress, even as he continued chatting inanely to Caz. Neve came up to stand beside him, sliding an arm around his waist with a sigh, a knowing look in her eyes.

“At least we will all be there to help take care of her.” She murmured, deliberately leaving ambiguous which “her” was going to need taking care of.

The rest of the day passed in a flurry of packing and preparations. Emmrich tried to shoulder as much of the burden for his little family as Rook would let him, but he was grateful for Manfred’s invaluable assistance, as always. Lucanis and Neve were taking it in turns, packing, and seeing to Caz, alternating who was working at any given time, as had largely become their custom whether at home or at the Lighthouse. There was no discussion of the matter, but Vorgoth clearly intended to accompany the expedition. They had already sent Dierdre back to the Necropolis with a message for Kai that their assistance would no longer be required, and both Emmrich and Vorgoth’s profuse thanks. Rook was spending most of her energy on remaining calm in the midst of all this activity, caring for Elannora, eating when it was required of her, and doing her best to help whilst staying out of the way.

The decision had been made that they would spend one last night at the Lighthouse and depart on their journey in the morning. Rook was in better spirits at dinner, and even appeared to have some appetite, for which Emmrich was immensely grateful. As the meal drew to its conclusion, Vorgoth approached Emmrich.

“WE WILL REMAIN HERE THIS NIGHT. IF YOU HAVE NEED OF US, SEND MANFRED.” Even as they told him this, Emmrich had the realisation that this would be their last night, likely for some time, in the relative privacy of Rook’s room. And at the same time, he realised that Vorgoth was well aware of what they would likely wish to do with that last night of relative privacy. Even as he face coloured, he nodded gratefully.

“Thank you, my Lord Vorgoth.” He murmured, his tone level, and Rook hid a smile, bending over Elannora solicitously to cover.

Once Rook and Emmrich had returned to the meditation chamber, they both made much of putting Elannora to bed, and then stood facing each other in silence for a long moment. Rook’s pale lips curved in a soft, slow smile, and she stepped into her husband’s waiting arms, putting her own arms around his neck and stretching up for a kiss. He leaned down eagerly, drawing her close, and kissing her hungrily, his hands spread on either side of her tiny waist, his eyes closing in bliss.

“How does your shoulder feel?” He asked softly, when they paused for breath, and she sighed.

“It’s still stiff, but not as sore. It’s more an ache now, not pain, if that makes any sense.” He smiled, nodding in response to her words, and she smiled in return. He tilted his head to press a tender kiss to the point of her shoulder, and her right hand moved to stroke his hair just as softly. Fingers tangling gently in the silvered strands. He moaned very quietly.

“My darling… I want you so badly….” He murmured, lips moving to nip at her neck, speaking with the same intense honesty that never failed to disarm any hesitations she might have. “I don’t wish to rush you; you’ve been through so much….” He went on, a bit breathless, and she just knew that he was on the verge of talking himself out of it. Her hands moved quickly to his cheeks, pulling gently so that he would raise his head and meet her gaze, finding his desire mirrored in her eyes.

“Stop thinking.” She told him lightly, then leaned in to kiss him again. He closed his eyes, and she felt some of the tension that had built up in him release, gradually being replaced by tension of a different kind, as he devoured her mouth, tongue darting out to dance with hers. Still kissing her, he gently guided her to the chaise, and they sat. Only then did he draw away so that he could gaze at her as he began to strip her. The ravages of her illness were clear on her body, hips, ribs, and clavicle all standing out starkly, just under the skin, and his touch was reverent as he ran his hands softly over her, stroking the harsh angles where her sunken belly dropped off from her lower ribs, then pulled taut against the swell of her hips.

“My darling… my beautiful, precious darling….” He murmured worshipfully, leaning in to kiss her neck, then nibbling softly down to the graceful curve of her collarbone, his lips continued their descent until they reached her sternum, and he lavished kisses on her breasts. She gasped and moaned softly, fingers tangling in his hair, as his mouth moved still lower. When his mouth reached her sex, it was her turn to stop thinking, she could only feel, as his skilled tongue delved her wet heat eagerly. In spite of his own excitement, he worked slowly, patiently; bringing her to bliss, all while being careful not to overwhelm her in her weakened state. As he brought her to the peak and gentled her over it for a third time, he paused for breath, nuzzling softly against her inner thigh.

“It’s been so long… since I’ve been able to watch you fall to pieces at my touch….” He mumbled, nipping teasingly at the sensitive skin.

“Emmrich….” She gasped, panting for breath in spite of his care. “Come… here!” She tugged at his hair lightly, then, as he shifted, she was pulling at his shoulders, his arms, his waist, until he was positioned where she wanted him, his thighs cradled between hers, the head of his rigid shaft pressing urgently at her entrance. “Please!” All it took was a gentle buck of his hips, and he was sinking into the irresistible heat of her, their groans mingling, her body tight around him after so long, her wet heat gripping his length with searing intensity. She was shuddering, her breathing coming in desperate gasps, her eyelids fluttering as she fought to keep them open, her gaze clinging to his face.

“Stay with me, darling….” He whispered breathlessly, unable to stop himself from moving inside her, even as he sought to temper his passion to give her a chance to breathe. “Breathe…. Feel me, my love…. My heart….” He murmured, hips rocking very lightly as she fought for breath. She clung to him, hips arching to meet his slow thrusts, even as she sucked air desperately. “Lilya….” He murmured, still trying to quell his own urgency, even as the familiar churning of peaking pleasure began to boil low in his abdomen.

“Don’t… stop!…” She gasped, fingers clawing against his shoulders, and he groaned, hips jerking as the wave crested, spewing his seed into her in violent pulses. She was howling her own pleasure, her cries still interspersed with her frantic gulping for breath, her frail body shuddering and heaving even as her sex fluttered around him, stroking his throbbing cock, the sensation urging him on as he continued to spill. He was sobbing, his focus narrowing to where their bodies were joined, his climax going on longer than he would have thought possible, his thoughts blurring as every bit of his energy bent on continuing to fill her with his essence.

When Emmrich returned to awareness, he had collapsed completely, sprawled atop Rook’s still form. His head felt heavy, his limbs shaky, and he was very aware of the sticky mess of their mingled fluids where his softened cock had slipped from her body. She had lost consciousness as well, her breathing returning to a more natural cadence with her body’s total relaxation, and now appeared to be resting comfortably enough. He took a moment to survey her with his magic, smiling softly as he reassured himself that she was indeed all right. Then he applied himself to cleaning up the mess left by their recent passions. As he finished gently mopping the spilled seed from her thighs, she stirred awake, gazing down at him with tired eyes.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” He murmured contritely, scooting himself up until their faces were level. “Are you all right?” She gave the question some thought before answering.

“I… think so?…” She answered eventually, a slight frown creasing her pale brow. “I feel… heavy…. Not quite here….” Emmrich frowned in turn, tears springing into his eyes as the guilt for his part in her current state washed over him. She blinked a few times, her gaze sharpening on her face. “Don’t… do that….” She objected haltingly. “I asked…. I begged you to….” She trailed off, gazing at him adoringly, and he sighed, caressing her cheek with a warm hand.

“Rest, my darling girl.” He whispered, gently lowering his head to kiss her. “We depart in the morning. Rest now.”

Chapter Text

The journey began simply enough, with a step through the Eluvian that led to Skyhold. In spite of the fact that the Inquisition had officially been disbanded for more than a decade, and Inquisitor Lavellan herself had been gone for close to five years, the ancient fortress was still well-manned, and humming along in well-organised busyness under the expert management of Rector and the Blackwall - who had stepped up to replace Divine Victoria and Commander Cullen respectively. No sooner had the party stepped into the garden, which Skyhold’s Eluvian room bordered, than they were whisked off to meet with the Blackwall in his headquarters, which now took up most of what had originally been the Inquisition’s stables. It just so happened that Seeker Pentaghast was also on site, so as they were escorted into the room, they found her standing over a massive map table with the Blackwall, their heads close together, apparently arguing about something.

As Rook and her party entered, she glanced at the table and saw what appeared to be a large and detailed map of the Dales. That was all she had the chance to register as Blackwall and Cassandra looked up at their arrival. Rook had met Lady Cassandra several times previously, amid the celebrations that had followed the defeat of Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain. Many had been the well-meaning Nevarrans who wished to introduce Rook, the guest of honour, to the woman who had been the Right Hand of two Divines, and the Inquisitor, and who was practically a Necropolis Crypt Baby herself. Rook, for her part, had been terrified, having heard the tales of the close friendship that had somehow grown out of the initial enmity between Varric and the Seeker.

It was late in the evening on perhaps the third such meeting that Cassandra approached Rook quietly, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a pair of glasses in the other and inclined her head in invitation towards a quiet terrace overlooking the Memorial Gardens. Rook hesitated a moment, then followed, taking a seat on the stone beside the warrior, both women letting their legs hang down over the edge as Cassandra poured them each a glass of wine. Rook noticed that the older woman’s hand shook as she passed Rook her glass, her gaze fixed determinedly on the glass as it changed hands. They sat and drank in silence for several minutes before Cassandra spoke again. Rook was content to wait her out — she had invited this conversation, so it seemed reasonable to allow her to determine its direction.

“Tell me about Varric.” Cassandra’s voice was quiet, her eyes still downcast, but the effect could not have been greater on Rook had she demanded at swordpoint. She took another slow deliberate sip of wine, gathering her thoughts, and breathing through the sudden racing of her heart, before she proceeded to retell once again the tale that she already felt if she never had to tell it again it would be too soon. But if anybody was owed the telling from Rook’s own lips, it would be Cassandra Pentaghast, so tell it she did. Cassandra listened in silence until she finished, wordlessly pouring Rook a fresh glass of wine when she drained it. Then, with no further prompting, Rook continued with the tale of the battle against Ghilan’nain, and the death of Lace Harding.

By the time Rook was done, both women were sombre, and more than a little bit drunk. Rook became aware that the pace of the activity below them had shifted. It only took a moment’s attention for her to understand why. Apparently her absence had been noted, and the remaining Veilguards were searching for her. A slightly rueful smile curled her lips as she drew Cassandra’s attention to the situation, and the Seeker chuckled in turn.

“Forgive me for taking you away from the party.” She said dryly, her words only slightly slurred from drink. “Professor Volkarin.” She raised her voice effortlessly as Emmrich hurried below them, and the tall necromancer stopped in his tracks, looking up in surprise. “She’s with me.” Cassandra told him, and Rook gave a little wave. “You may need to come up here and help her down, though, or she’s liable to break her neck.” Emmrich hurried up to join them, finding Rook hanging off Cassandra’s neck, giggling near-hysterically. He gave the Seeker a severe look, which she returned with an arched eyebrow, and he extended his hands to Rook, who took them, pulling herself to her feet and pitching forward into his arms, still giggling. Emmrich sighed, wrapping his arms securely around her, and helping her back down to the ground.

Since then, they had been if not friends, then at least friendly in their infrequent interactions, usually around the High Mourning days, when Cassandra would come to pay her respects at her Uncle Vestalus’s crypt. Nothing, however, could have prepared Rook for the reaction that the sight of her prompted. Cassandra glanced up as they entered, breaking off mid-sentence, dark eyes widening somewhere between shock and horror. She touched Blackwall briefly on the shoulder as she stepped quickly around him, moving to face Rook.

“Merciful Maker, what’s happened to you, my Lady?” She demanded, her gaze roving over Rook’s wasted frame and pale face before settling on Emmrich in clear accusation.

“It’s been a… difficult few months.” Rook said mildly, shooting her husband an apologetic glance. Emmrich sighed, wrapping an arm around Rook’s waist in wordless support.

“Davrin told us to expect you.” Blackwall put in, stepping up beside Cassandra, his own frown puzzled. “And Bellara mentioned… some of the difficulties.” He glanced uncertainly at Cassandra, whose gaze was still fixed on Rook with unsettling intensity.

“Come. Sit.” Cassandra took Rook by the forearms, pulling her towards the table, hooking a nearby chair with an ankle and pulling it close for the younger woman to sit in. Emmrich scowled but said nothing, following closely behind, and installing himself standing at Rook’s shoulder, a hand resting protectively on the back of her chair.

The rest of the party approached the table, and introductions were made. Manfred relinquished Elannora to Emmrich, and was sent outside with Caz to play on the lawn of the adjacent courtyard so as not to disturb the meeting. A servant was sent for refreshment as the Blackwall updated them on everything he knew of the situation in the Dales. Demon activity such as the South had not seen since the days of the Breach was plaguing all settlements in any proximity to the Elvhen forests, and there was sufficient evidence that they were being summoned deliberately — the remains of rituals having been found in secluded ruins in a variety of locations. Briala had sent word to both the Inquisition and the Veilguard, because the troubles her holdings were experiencing seemed to align with both groups’ interests, and since Bellara and Davrin had arrived, accompanied by a small team of Inquisition scouts such as Harding had once led, those troubles had only increased.

“But why?” Rook burst out at one point, her weak voice ringing with frustration. “What do they gain by summoning demons to attack the populace, what’s their goal?”

“Well, that just means that she is here somewhere, and they’re either helping with whatever she’s got planned, or distracting from it.” Taash spoke up for the first time since introductions had concluded at the beginning of the conversation, and Cassandra and Blackwall stared at them — at the flat tone in which they presented their conclusion as obvious. Emmrich lowered his head, trying to conceal a smile behind a cough. “But we’re gonna have to get out there to find out which.” They concluded with a shrug, as ever, seemingly oblivious to the reaction their insight prompted.

“Correct.” Emmrich said mildly, giving Blackwall and Cassandra a chance to refocus before going on. “We’ll need to reach Marquise Briala’s seat in the Dales before we can even begin our investigation, and I am certain the good Commander will have some advice on how best to make that journey.” Hey eyed Blackwall expectantly, and Blackwall and Cassandra glanced at each other, before Cassandra nodded decisively and answered for him.

“I can do better than that.” She told them firmly. “I will escort you myself, at least as far as Halam’shiral.” Emmrich and Rook exchanged a look in turn, both clearly startled, but Emmrich was beginning to smile.

“That would be most welcome, my Lady.” He said smoothly. Blackwall was smiling as well.

“Can we offer you a meal before you go?” He asked, and the Emmrich agreed promptly on behalf of the group. Rook was unable to suppress a grimace, knowing that since they had all eaten before setting off from the Lighthouse, this was simply a ploy to get a little more nourishment into her before they began their journey overland into Orlais. Emmrich looked so pleased that she couldn’t bring herself to protest. Cassandra and Blackwall led the way into the Herald’s Rest, the keep’s cozy little tavern, and as Cassandra saw them all seated, Blackwall stepped up to the bar to request stew and bread for the table. Emmrich was watching closely as the food was brought to their table, and realised that there were two different stews being served, one which contained meat, and one which appeared to be only beans and vegetables. He shot the server a grateful smile, and the rather taciturn-looking dwarf gave a terse smile and winked in response.

Although he had just eaten, Emmrich made a point of enjoying a few bites of the stew, smiling as he saw Rook do the same. She only managed a few bites before beginning to feel unbearably full, but those few bites were undeniably delicious, and between that and Emmrich’s evident relief, she found her earlier annoyance had completely evaporated by the time the simple meal was finished. When they returned to the command centre, they found that Blackwall’s staff had not been idle during their meal. The room was now strewn with supplies, which were being efficiently packed for the journey. Emmrich saw Rook seated, settling Elannora in her lap, then moved to check on the rations that were being provided. Meanwhile, Cassandra moved to crouch at Rook’s feet, so that the younger woman would not have to crane her neck.

“My Lady, forgive me for asking, but will you be able to sit a horse?” She asked seriously.

“As long as you can find me one who will be kind to an amateur, I can manage.” Rook replied, her attempt at humour prompting a faint smile from the Seeker.

“I’ll see what Seanna can come up with.” She said thoughtfully, heading through the open side door to the working stables, which still adjoined Blackwall’s command centre. A few moments later, she returned and beckoned Rook to follow her. Rook did so, finding Skyhold’s horsemistress waiting for her, holding a small white horse by the halter.

“This is Dancer.” Cassandra told her. “I think I’d best hold the child, while you go get acquainted.” She suggested. Rook hesitated only briefly before handing over the baby, then moving to stand beside Seanna where the horsemistress indicated.

“Offer her your hand, and let her smell you.” Seanna instructed, and Rook did so, smiling a bit uncertainly at the sensation of the horse’s soft nose and warm breath against her palm. “You can pet her, if you’d like.” Seanna went on encouragingly. Rook gave the horse’s velvety nose a tentative stroke, and the beast turned towards her, pressing its forehead against her chest and rubbing enthusiastically, almost knocking Rook off her feet. Seanna caught Rook deftly by the elbow, helping her to catch her balance again, and chuckling. “I think she likes you.” She said dryly. Rook’s fingers curled instinctively around one of Dancer’s pricked ears, scratching lightly, and the horse wickered appreciatively. “I think you’ll get on fine.” Emmrich and Neve came out to join them, and Neve eyed the horse even more uncertainly than Rook had.

“You want me to ride one of those?” The dark-skinned detective asked incredulously. Emmrich moved to Rook’s side to greet the horse, but Neve kept her distance, eyeing the large beast with clear distrust.

“Seanna, do you think you could find another sweet-tempered horse for a beginning rider?” Rook asked with a smile, still petting Dancer.

In relatively short order, the entire party was mounted, the supplies divided between Veilguards and Seekers alike, and they started their journey out of the high Frostbacks. Neve was reluctantly mounted on a stolid gelding aptly named Tor, and despite the horse’s placid temperament, she was clinging to the saddle’s pommel with both hands, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Both Elannora and Caz were riding with their fathers, both of whom were more experienced riders than their wives. Lucanis was even propping Caz on the saddle in front of him, and letting him ‘ride’ with his father’s gentle hands resting lightly on his sides in support.

Dancer proved just as good-natured as Seanna had promised, her gait smooth, her mouth soft, and Rook found herself drifting, her relative lack of experience or skill on horseback posing no problem at all. The horse seemed to respond to her very thoughts, or to be content to follow the rest of the herd. The scenery they rode through was spectacular; every rise and turn revealed a new breathtaking vista, but even that was no longer enough to hold Rook’s focus, after a few hours’ ride. Her head felt like it was full of fog, her eyes unbearably heavy, a roaring in her ears drowning out everything else. She became aware that she could feel her heart beating, hard but strangely slow in her chest.

In spite of how close Emmrich rode on her right, the first indication that something was wrong came from one of Cassandra’s Seekers. Riding a few paces behind Rook, the young warrior noticed as Rook’s seat became wobbly, and she began listing slight to the left, towards the steep drop that bordered the trail on that side. Crying out sharply in warning, the Seeker spurred her mount forward, the larger warhorse easily shoving Dancer further away from the edge, just as Rook toppled into the Seeker’s waiting arms. Cries of alarm came from all sides, Cassandra turning her own mount sharply and hurrying back to see if she could help. The other Seeker was supporting Rook’s negligible weight easily, so Cassandra dismounted, moving to take hold of Dancer’s bridle. True to her name, the horse was dancing skittishly, seeming primed to bolt, but she calmed quickly as Cassandra stroked her.

Emmrich tossed his reins to Taash, leaping from his own saddle and rushing over to the Seeker who held Rook. Since he still had Elannora cradled in her sling against his chest, he was unable to take Rook from the stranger, so he contented himself with watching closely as the young woman dismounted carefully, lowering Rook to the ground by the trailside. She was still out cold. Emmrich knelt at her side, reaching a shaking hand to gently touch her brow, then her cheek, healer’s senses reaching, skimming her still form rapidly, finding her breathing strained, her heart rate quite a bit faster than he liked, but otherwise nothing seemed to be wrong. Even as he monitored her, things seemed to even out, her breathing and heart rate both easing, and her eyelids began to flutter as she slowly regained consciousness.

“Easy….” He murmured soothingly, still stroking her cheek, as she gave a sudden sharp intake of breath, her eyes snapping open in alarm. She relaxed immediately, finding him leaning over her, although some part of her was certain she was not supposed to be lying on the ground, and she blinked up at him in slightly dazed confusion. “You fainted, my love.” He told her softly, frowning in worry. “How do you feel?…”

“Dizzy….” Her reply was a faint mumble, her eyes not quite seeming to focus on his face, her breathing still shallow.

“Just rest… focus on your breathing.” He murmured, glancing up to see how their companions were making out. He found Veilguards and Seekers halfway through setting up a quick camp, but Cassandra was standing nearby, watching him and Rook, a thunderous scowl on her face. He raised his eyebrows in surprise as their eyes met, and her own eyes narrowed in apparent fury.

“Why did you bring her?” She demanded in a furious hiss, moving still closer, looming over him on the ground. “She’s in no condition to be traipsing through the mountains for days to reach civilisation!”

“You are correct, she is quite unwell.” Emmrich replied mildly. “However, she is also still Rook, and therefore just as steely-determined as when she is well.” He added with a faint smirk, and Cassandra sighed, looking down at Rook again, and finding her glaring up at her.

“My Lady….” Cassandra faltered, taken aback by the anger in that gaze.

“Stop.” Rook’s voice was barely audible, but the exasperation behind it was clear on her face. Cassandra bit her lip, moving to kneel beside Emmrich, closer to Rook’s head.

“Forgive me, my Lady, it… pains me to see you in such condition.” The usually imposing woman said haltingly. Rook sighed. She was starting to shiver a bit in reaction, fine muscles in her face twitching visibly.

“I’m sorry, Lady Cassandra….” She mumbled, her lips still feeling slightly numb, her eyelids fluttering as she fought to keep them open.

“Don’t….” Cassandra’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle, and Rook felt fingers brush her stiff left shoulder. “Don’t fret for me, my Lady.” She went on, drawing a shuddering breath. “Save your strength….” Neve came over, then, offering to take Elannora from Emmrich for a while. He nodded gratefully, handing the baby over, then very gently gathering Rook into his arms. She leaned bonelessly into him, closing her eyes, her head sagging against his shoulder.

“There, love, I have you.” He murmured tenderly, long fingers finding their way into her hair, the slight pull grounding her. “Rest….”

Rook woke to a quiet argument passing over her.

“One of my Seekers could make the ride back to Skyhold in a few hours.” Cassandra pointed out, careful to keep her voice low, not knowing that Rook was awake. “The road is narrow, but it’s accommodated cart traffic for years; there is no need for her to risk falling again….”

“Tempting though I personally find that offer, do you want to be the one to argue it with her?” He countered in wry challenge, and she grunted in annoyance. Rook opened her eyes with a heavy sigh, and both pairs of eyes dropped her her. “Darling….” Emmrich’s scowl softened as he looked at her, and she mustered a shaky smile for his benefit.

“She’s right….” She told him in a faint whisper, reluctance in every syllable, every line of her body. “I don’t want to hold us up any more than necessary.” She said through tense jaw and stiff lips. Emmrich gazed at her, his shoulders sagging visibly in relief, his own face relaxing into a tender smile.

“Thank you, my love.” He murmured, fingers ghosting over her temple, her cheek, before cupping her jaw. “We don’t want you falling off a horse, either.” He added, and she giggled weakly. Cassandra was already moving to detail one of her Seekers to return to Skyhold and commandeer a cart, and the rider thus instructed set off promptly at a brisk trot.

Rook realised that she could feel someone watching her, and she raised her head slightly, looking around to find Vorgoth, standing motionless at some distance, and even without a visible face, it was clear that their gaze was fixed on her. It only then occurred to her how strange it was that they had not yet come to her since her near-fall. In the same moment, she realised that it must be because they recognised that Emmrich was doing all that could be done for her. Now, however, seeing her looking at them, they floated silently to her side.

“LILYA….” Their voice was soft, although it still echoed deep in her bones, and she smiled weakly. “THANK YOU… FOR MAKING THE WISE CHOICE.” She sighed ruefully at that.

“I’ve already held us up… more than enough.” She replied, the words coming in bursts as her breath quickly grew shallow with the effort of speaking.

“HUSH LITTLE ONE….” Vorgoth’s voice dropped further, a mere whisper of air, one large gloved hand moving to rest ever so gently on her straining chest, and she felt a gentle surge of strength enter her, allowing her to draw a full breath.

“Besides….” She went on, lips curving into a faint smirk. “I thought it was either that or let you… carry me the whole way….” That startled a huff of laughter from Vorgoth.

“WE WOULD NOT OBJECT.” They told her simply.

“Emmrich might get jealous.” She told him in an exaggerated whisper, glancing slyly over at Emmrich, who was still at her side, a fond if exasperated smile on his face.

“WE WOULD NOT WANT THAT.” Vorgoth concurred in the closest thing to humour that Emmrich had ever heard from them.

“I can accept whatever will make you the most comfortable, darling.” Emmrich told Rook sincerely, but she shook her head gently.

“I’ll be fine… with a cart….” She assured him, and he nodded. “Elannora can ride with me sometimes, too.” She added, brightening visibly at the thought.

“When you’re strong enough.” Emmrich agreed softly. “Now rest…. I can feel you fighting.” He murmured. As he said it, she realised it was true — her eyelids had grown heavy again, her exhaustion hanging off every part of her body like a stifling blanket that somehow still left her cold. “I’ll bring you something to eat in a little while.” She barely heard him, letting her eyes close, a sigh gusting from slack lips as she released tension she hadn’t even realised she was holding.

She woke several more times as the day wore on. Once it was to the feeling of Emmrich gently raising her, propping her unresisting form against his chest so that Elannora could be positioned at her breast to feed. Another time, she felt a cup pressed gently against her lower lip, and she sipped instinctively, her mouth filling with a delicious soup that she suspected Lucanis had worked on all day. Finally, she woke in near-darkness, the moon above, and a not-far-distant campfire throwing dancing shadows. She was once again clasped in Emmrich’s arms, and he was snoring gently beneath her. She gazed at him in silence, frowning softly as she realised he looked exhausted, her fingers moving to smooth softly over his brow, some of the lines of worry cut so deep as to remain clear even at rest.

She heard her daughter’s unmistakable voice, gabbling softly nearby, and she raised her head in surprise to see that the little travel bassinet they had brought with them, a surprisingly sturdy quilted affair that could nonetheless be folded up for easy packing, had been placed right next to the bedroll she and Emmrich shared. Smiling tenderly, she shifted a bit, reaching over with her stronger arm to trail her fingers over the edge of the bassinet, smiling as she felt Elannora grab her index finger, gripping it tightly, and bringing it determinedly to her mouth. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but Rook found that she didn’t care as she cherished the closeness of the two people she loved most in the world, laying her head down on Emmrich’s shoulder and letting sleep claim her once again.

Chapter Text

The Seeker must have returned with the cart during the night, because the next time Rook woke it was to a bustle of activity as the camp was packed up. Emmrich was still holding her, but he had carefully sat himself up so that he could sip at the cup of freshly brewed tea someone had brought him. He smiled as he felt her stir, and after a moment, the edge of a glass was pressed against her lip, wordlessly urging her to sip the offered water. She did so, her breath shaky between swallows.

“How do you feel, my darling?” He asked softly, the words almost felt as much as heard, his lips soft against her temple.

“Heavy… tired….” She mumbled, and he winced at the continued weakness in her voice. He fed her some breakfast, a concoction of yogurt and grain, sweetened with honey, and was heartened at how much she managed to eat before turning her face away.

That day, Rook rode alone in the cart, tenderly tucked in a nest of blankets and pillows borrowed from people’s bedding, dozing on and off, even though rough patches on the road shook her fine bones vigorously. Emmrich rode close beside to the right of the cart, where he could watch over her, all day long. He handed over Elannora when she got hungry, but otherwise, he insisted on carrying her, wishing Rook to rest. She was vaguely aware of other companions seemingly rotating through the positions to the left and directly behind the cart, Lucanis, Neve, Cassandra, Vorgoth. It seemed every time she opened her eyes there were new guardians, and it made her smile faintly, feeling looked after. Loved.

Emmrich was on edge, tense, trying very hard not to let on the depth of his concern, as he guarded her, but the stiffness of his seat in the saddle and the furrow of his brow gave it away. His lean shoulders were tense under the elegant lines of his robes, his hands fidgeting with the reins, which his mount took with admirable patience, seeming content to mostly ignore its rider and simply follow the herd. This was a good thing, because Emmrich was barely paying attention to where they were going, his focus so fully bent on Rook.

They made a brief stop at midday for a simple meal, and Emmrich helped Rook down from the cart, supporting her gently as they took a slow turn around the grassy meadow that had been selected for their break. As she leaned against his steady arm, it was brought home to him once again just how fragile she had become, her delicate bones barely obscured by the overlaying flesh, prompting him to handle her as if she were blown glass, or the finest of porcelain, prone to breakage. She seemed to realise this and she tilted her head to peer at him sidelong, a question in her eyes.

“What is it, dearest?” He asked gently, pausing their perambulation, and turning her to face him fully, his hands supporting her elbows, so he could look her in the face.

“You’re touching me like I might break.” She said softly, her gaze dropping to where her own hands rested on his forearms, and giving a light squeeze.

“I shouldn’t wish to hurt you, my dear.” He objected, his tone of voice as reasonable as he could make it. She glowered up at him.

“To borrow a phrase from Lady Cassandra, I am not a porcelain doll!” She told him acidly, and his face fell, causing her to sigh, searching for calm. “I’m sorry, Emm….” She muttered, actively avoiding his gaze now. “I’m frustrated….” He nodded understandingly, one hand moving to cup her chin, raising her head again. “And I am not a child.” She concluded, but her expression now conveyed that she realised she was being unreasonable.

“I know, darling.” He murmured, drawing her in, holding her tight against him, feeling her melt into his arms. “I don’t mean to treat you that way, I just… I worry…. You’ve been through so much….”

“You keep saying that….” She mumbled mutinously, and he was startled into a laugh at her petulant tone.

“It keeps being true.” He countered gently. “I couldn’t bear the thought of causing you any further pain through my own actions.” His fingers were threading into her hair, tugging ever so gently, and she gave a soft purr of pleasure at the sensation. “I shall do my best to remember that the love of my life, and the mother of my children is not a porcelain doll, though.” He went on with deliberate irony. She drew back far enough to scowl up at him, but the curve of her lips, and the crinkling at the corners of her eyes gave away her amusement. He smiled down at her, his eyes shining with love.

“Children?” She asked archly, and he chuckled again.

“My dear, you were a mother to Manfred long before I was prepared to be a father.” He pointed out. “And I have no doubt that when you’ve had a chance to rest and recover properly, we’ll begin working on another.” He added, bending to kiss her tenderly. “When you are ready.”

When they rejoined the others, lunch was ready, and Emmrich settled himself with a back against a tree, still holding Rook as they both ate. She finished her bowl this time, although it took her a while; no one would have thought of hurrying her, when she was finally starting to show some appetite after so long. As Emmrich helped her back into her nest in the cart, she was sagging noticeably, the intake of nourishment making her drowsy, and he smiled softly as she curled up, falling asleep almost instantly, before they even started moving.

When they stopped next, evening was starting to draw in. Rook had been awake for a while, had nursed Elannora, and Emmrich had somewhat reluctantly let her keep holding the babe after, to the marked relief of his back and shoulders, which had begun to protest the unaccustomed exertion of riding for hours on end. He dismounted and almost fell, his legs briefly refusing to support him, both hands gripping the thick leather strap that anchored a stirrup, a breathless grunt of discomfort escaping him.

“Emmrich?…” Rook’s voice was shrill with worry, and he half-turned to find her holding herself up against the low wall of the cart with one arm, holding Elannora pinned against her shoulder with the other.

“I’m all right, darling.” He told her, but his voice sounded strained, even to his own ears. He used his grip on the stirrup leather to pull himself fully upright, shifting his stance experimentally, and finding that his legs seemed to have consented to bear his weight once again, and he leaned a moment longer against his tolerant mount’s side, angling his hips in an attempt to stretch out some of the excruciating tension at the base of his spine, unable to suppress a groan as he did so. He turned fully now, tottering a little as he stepped towards Rook in the cart, feeling stiff in every joint in his body, the unpleasant rigidity of the fine articulations between vertebrae rendering his normally smooth gait a laboured shamble. “I’m all right.” He said again, more convincingly. Rook frowned at him.

Cassandra came to help Rook down from the cart, and looking about, they realised that Emmrich was not the only one suffering for the long ride. Neve could barely walk, and even Lucanis was moving more stiffly than usual. Taash, of course, had insisted on walking, and at an easy lope had been thus far able to keep up with the group with no difficulty. Some of the Seekers, who were accustomed to this sort of travel, were eyeing the Veilguards with unconcealed amusement. There was no discussion on the subject, but most of the work of setting up camp fell to the Seekers that night.

“There’s a hot spring along our route today.” Cassandra informed Rook and Emmrich in the morning, amidst the bustle of breakfast and packing up to continue the journey. “I think a stop might be beneficial to you and your friends.”

“Thank you, my Lady, we should greatly appreciate that.” Emmrich replied, surprised at the unexpected kindness. He was moving better after the night’s rest, but the lingering stiffness he still felt in his back told him that it would not be long before he was in even worse case than the previous night.

Sure enough, by the time they reached the promised hot springs and made their stop, he was hobbling again, teeth gritted against the discomfort which sharpened to a stabbing pain as he dismounted heavily, trying and failing to suppress a groan. Once again, he turned to find Rook eyeing him in concern. She had already been boosted down from the cart and was standing under her own power, still holding Elannora. He noticed with relief that Lucanis was hovering nearby, whilst attempting to look like he was not hovering, lest she should require support.

Several of the Seekers took charge of the horses and gear, moving into a stable area that had been set up for the use of any who wished to avail themselves of the springs. There was also a sheltered area with a large enclosed firepit for cooking, long tables and benches for eating, and a bank of stone cubbies for leaving belongings whilst experiencing the waters. Rook, Lucanis, and Neve stripped down to their smallclothes without hesitation. Emmrich opted to keep his shirt on, well aware that the experience would likely ruin it, shoes and stockings were left on the edge of the gently steaming pool, and they entered the water with varying levels of caution.

Emmrich went first, having experienced natural hot springs before, during travels undertaken in his younger days. He knew that Rook, who could not swim, would need him to reassure her that the water wasn’t deep before entering herself. The water was warm, but not uncomfortably so, and once he had determined that the area where he had entered, the water only just cleared his narrow hips, he turned to his wife with an encouraging smile and opened his arms. She moved without hesitation, then, into his embrace. Neve lowered herself down onto the stone edge of the pool, working a bit of well-practised magic to detach her prosthetic before lowering herself into the water with a groan of relief.

Emmrich held Rook close, slowly walking her deeper into the water, murmuring reassurance that he had her, and he would not let her go, as he moved until the water was lapping at his shoulder blades. She had wrapped herself around his torso by this time, arms twined around his neck, legs clinging to his waist, face hidden against his neck as she struggled to keep her breathing even against her rising panic. He could feel her heart rate accelerating, and he tightened his hold on her, fingers curling to scratch very gently at her scalp through her damp hair.

“Breathe, love.” He murmured. “I have you. You’re safe.” She drew a harsh breath, too shallow, too fast, and he continued to hold her, safe and secure, in his arms, swaying ever so gently in the buoyant mineral water of the pool, allowing her to calm, and chance a look around them. “There, now….” He murmured. “I have you. You’re all right.”

Lucanis floated nearby, with the careless ease of a man who had been swimming for at least as long as he could walk. Neve trod water with seemingly lazy sweeps of her arms, letting her head fall back to fully wet her dark hair with a sigh of bliss. Taash appeared to be doing slow laps, their body moving with the silent grace of a shark through the water. Manfred sat at the edge of the pool, skeletal legs trailing into the water, and holding Elannora so that she could watch her parents with deep interest. Gradually, her breathing eased, although she did not loosen her hold on Emmrich. He was quite content to let her hang off of him, her already slight weight especially manageable in the mineral-heavy water.

They spent close to an hour bathing in the springs, and by the time they emerged, heavy-limbed from relaxation, Rook on the verge of sleep once more in Emmrich’s arms, the Seekers had a hot meal prepared. Emmrich lowered Rook carefully onto one of the benches, taking a seat at her side, his arm still wrapped around her. She sagged against him with a faint sigh, and he sighed in turn, holding her up against his side as she came to and caught her balance.

“Forgive me, dearest, we should perhaps have spent less time in the heat….” He murmured contritely, and she sighed again, giving herself a little shake, trying to clear her mind, her thoughts still swimming a bit. “It’s all right, don’t waste your energy arguing with me.” He murmured with a hint of humour. “Just rest against me; I have you.” She relaxed again, leaning against him contentedly.

“The way I see it, we have two choices.” Cassandra spoke up as they ate. “We can push on after this, and will likely make it to Halam’shiral near sundown tomorrow, or we can rest here, depart in the morning, and spend one more night on the road, reaching the city around midday two days hence.” It took Emmrich a moment to realise that everybody seemed to be looking to him for an answer, and he blinked, startled. He looked from the expectant faces around him to his half-conscious wife and sighed, nodding heavily.

“I believe she would benefit from further rest today.” He said softly, and everybody else simply nodded ready acceptance of his decision. The rest of their camp was set up in short order, and then the Seekers took their opportunity to enjoy the springs as well. Emmrich cradled Rook tenderly, carrying her into the tent that had been set up for them. He laid her gently on their bedroll; she was too warm yet for him to feel right tucking her in. He was settling down to watch over her as she rested, as was his custom, when Neve ducked into the tent with an apologetic smile.

“You’ve become quite the recluse.” She said, her voice very soft, her tone mild, but her dark eyes sharp on his face. “You really should come and meet the other Seekers properly.” She went on. Emmrich frowned, hesitating, glancing at Rook’s sleeping form, and he was aware of Neve’s patient smile in his peripheral vision. “She’ll be all right, sleeping unsupervised for an hour or two.” She pointed out, and he sighed. “We can bring Elannora with us, and you can bring her back if she gets hungry.” She went on, aware that he was wavering, careful to keep any sign of triumph from her face and voice.

He half-turned to where Elannora lay in her bassinet, startled to find her awake, alert, and looking back at him with eyes precisely the same shade of green as her mother’s. This fact, more than anything else, decided him. With a nod, he leaned forward to gently scoop her into his arms, getting to his feet, and moving to follow Neve from the tent. Manfred was in his accustomed position, just outside the tent, so Emmrich quietly asked him to watch over Rook while he was out, a request to which Manfred agreed enthusiastically, responding with a pleased-sounding hiss, and entering the tent in turn. Emmrich was taken aback by the warm reception he received as Neve led him back over to the pool.

“How are you feeling, Watcher?” A voice with a rich Antivan accent asked, and he looked over to find Natalia, the young woman who had saved Rook from a fall from her horse, watching him.

“Much better after a good soak.” He replied easily. “I don’t believe I have adequately thanked you for….” She waved away his thanks, shaking her head with a smile.

“I wasn’t about to let her fall.” She scoffed, and he bowed his head slightly to concede the point.

“Can you imagine Lady Cassandra’s reaction if you had?” Another Seeker put in, an older man with grey in his hair, and the stoic demeanour of a veteran, the burr of Ferelden giving away his origin. He shot Emmrich an apologetic look. “Name’s Durden, my Lord.” He added, ducking his head to tug at a nonexistent forelock. Emmrich chuckled, shaking his head in turn.

“I assure you, I’m no more highborn than you, good ser.”

“May I.” Cassandra had appeared at his shoulder, and he was startled to realise that she was almost as tall as he was. She was eyeing Elannora with something very like longing. Emmrich smiled, nodding, and she took the baby from him with a delighted grin. His gaze followed, as she cradled Elannora carefully, stepping away from him, and he found himself smiling a bit indulgently at her very evident pleasure in the simple act of holding the baby.

By the time Emmrich returned to the tent, Elannora fussing hungrily in his arms, close to an hour had passed, but he was feeling calmer than he had in days, and he only faltered briefly, upon entering, when he found Vorgoth hovering over the still sleeping Rook. Manfred was also there, as Emmrich had instructed, but even the ever-helpful wisp seemed to realise that his presence was superfluous at this point.
“Thank you, Manfred.” Emmrich said very softly, and his skeletal son hissed proudly, bowing to Vorgoth on his way out.

“YOU HAVE BEEN OUT VISITING.” Vorgoth’s tone was difficult to read, and Emmrich swallowed hard, suddenly uncertain.

“Neve thought it might do me and Elannora both good to spend some time with the others.” He explained, hoping he didn’t sound as defensive as he felt.

“NEVE IS WISE IN THE WORKINGS OF EMOTION.” Vorgoth said simply, and Emmrich felt his shoulders sag with relief, and Vorgoth’s head tilted, seeming to look at him more fully. “LILYA DOES NOT WISH YOU TO BE CHAINED TO HER SIDE.”

“You make me sound like some kind of prisoner.” Emmrich objected, frowning, as his gaze dropped to his wife’s sleeping face, feeling a surge of tenderness as he looked at her.

“ONLY TO YOUR OWN EXPECTATIONS.” Vorgoth countered, and Emmrich nodded heavily. All the while, he had been jiggling Elannora gently in his arms, trying to keep her quiet while he and Vorgoth spoke. Now Vorgoth turned their attention to the increasingly fussy baby, reaching out to very gently touch the tip of her nose with one gloved finger. Elannora fell abruptly silent, staring at them in apparent wonder.

“So, if you are Lilya’s Father, does that make you Elannora’s Grandfather?” Emmrich asked, half to himself. Vorgoth gave a rumbling chuckle, and Elannora grinned, as if in response. Emmrich blinked, staring down at her in wonder. It was, to his knowledge, her first true social smile, and he felt only the tiniest twinge of disappointment that it was not directed at him. With a sigh, he lowered himself gingerly to sit on the ground beside Rook on the bedroll. He leaned over and very gently nudged Rook awake, helping her to sit up, and drawing her in to lean against him as she quickly bared a breast, and brought Elannora to nurse.

“How are you feeling, dearest?” He asked, as he always did, waiting patiently while she considered before answering.

“Heavy….” She said at length, frowning a bit as she tried to put what she was feeling into words. “Like… every part of me is being pressed against the earth, and I can’t get my breath….” Emmrich frowned, hearing that she was still having trouble breathing. Without a word, he shifted his arms around her, taking a bit more of Elannora’s weight as she continued to feed. Glancing towards Vorgoth, he found that they were already bringing their formidable magic to bear on the problem.

“Once Elannora is finished, we’ll get you something to eat, and then you can rest again.” He murmured, tilting his head to rub his cheek softly against her hair. She nodded wordlessly, leaning back against him, letting her head rest against his shoulder with a sigh. By the time Elannora had had her fill, Rook was drowsing again, but Emmrich roused her gently, much as he hated to do so, knowing that she needed nourishment even more than she needed rest. He helped her to her feet, and she sagged against his supporting arms, leaning into him weakly.

“Do you need me to carry you?” He asked gently, frowning in renewed worry, but she shook her head, drawing herself stubbornly upright with a shaky breath. He gripped her arms tightly, more than a little alarmed by her obstinate determination. “Please let me help you, dearest.” He pleaded softly, gazing into her pale face, even as she avoided meeting his gaze. “Lilya….” His voice was gentle, but insistent. “My heart, please….” Slowly she raised her eyes to look at him, and his answering smile was tender and relieved. She stared at him, as if not understanding the look in his eyes, and he very gently drew her in again. “Let me help you, darling.” He whispered again, and she nodded wordlessly, the fog of confusion in her mind easing as she leaned into him.

His head turned to look back at Vorgoth, who was where they had left them, holding Elannora, but their attention still clearly fixed on Rook’s slumped form. He could feel her shaking against him, weakly gripping fistfuls of his robes as she clung to consciousness just as desperately. After a moment, her stance stabilised, her hands relaxing their clawed grasp against his chest, her back straightening, as she raised her head once again to look up at her.

“Don’t look so worried.” She whispered, a hint of a smile playing over her lips, and he returned it with a wan smile of his own.

“If you don’t want me to worry, then you have to stop fainting in my arms, dearest.” He countered gently. She conceded the point, a faint twist of her lips showing her reluctance. “Now come, let us find you some dinner.” He went on, helping her towards the dining shelter.

All of Emmrich earlier sense of calm had abandoned him completely by this time, a fact of which his companions all took note, as he and Rook joined them for the evening meal. Lucanis and Neve installed themselves bracketing Rook and Emmrich on the bench, while Taash and Cassandra moved to sit opposite them across the table, and the air of quiet protectiveness around the table was palpable.

Conversations were muted, as if no one wanted to disturb the small group clustered around Rook, their focus all bent so entirely on her that Emmrich, Cassandra, and Taash seemed to have forgotten they were also meant to be eating. When Rook had had her fill, she leaned silently against Emmrich, letting her head rest against his shoulder while he finished his own meal.

Even in the fog of her ongoing illness, Rook was aware of Emmrich’s distress and distraction. It was more than mere concern for her, although that was considerable. She knew he felt some measure of blame for the current situation; he felt that he should have found some other option that would allow him to help the team whilst keeping her out of harm’s way. She was less certain that such an option existed.

Emmrich, for his part, was frustrated by the way her every sign of improvement seemed to be followed closely by such alarming lapses as she was currently experiencing, and while he understood that healing was not always a linear process, he still felt that there must he something more he could do to ease her suffering. He finished eating as quickly as he could, nodding in parting to the gathering, lifting Rook’s frail form easily in the cradle of his arms, and carrying her carefully back to their tent.

Chapter Text

When Rook woke, they were already underway. Emmrich was seated beside her in the bed of the cart, his face lined with weariness and worry, but a faint smile lit his eyes as he saw her looking up at him.

“Darling….” He murmured, reaching down to tenderly cup her cheek in his hand. Her head ached, her chest ached, and along with the painful tension in her shoulders, it was clear that even in sleep her body had been fighting for breath.

“You didn’t wake me….” Her voice was weak, and he frowned at the sound, thumb tracing her cheekbone to her temple very softly.

“Couldn’t.” He corrected gently, and she frowned in turn. “I tried, quite determinedly I might add.” He told her, still stroking her cheek. “I was… quite concerned.” He concluded, with obvious understatement.

“I’m all right.” She whispered, gazing up at him, and he managed a small smile.

“No you’re not, darling.” He disagreed, bending over to very gently gather her into his arms, drawing her into his lap, clasping her to his chest. His arms were warm and strong around her, and she realised somewhat belatedly that she was shivering as he held her close. “I’ve got you… breathe….” He whispered into her hair. She closed her eyes, pressing her cheek against his chest, trying to do as he bid her, feeling the unexpected wetness of tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. He held her as her shaking eased, followed by her breathing, fingers combing through her hair. “There now….” He murmured as she raised her head enough to look up at him, her eyes still wet with tears.

“Will you try to eat something for me?” He asked, and she nodded ready agreement. His relieved smile warmed her, and he reached over to pick up a plate that had been sitting nearby awaiting this very moment, offering her a small selection of what appeared to be scones. “Lucanis made them.” He told her as she took one and took an experimental bite. The bright tang of lemon zest filled her senses, quickly followed by the sweetness of some kind of dried berries.

“Where on earth did he find lemons?” She asked in surprise, and Emmrich chuckled.

“I suspect he’s been carrying them all this way, waiting for the opportune moment to use them.” He replied, glancing up past her, eyebrows raised.

“You know me so well.” Lucanis’s voice was amused. “I thought I’d take advantage of the cooking facilities, such as they were, and make something nice to tempt you.” Rook turned her head to smile at the assassin, who was riding close beside the cart.

“They’re lovely.” She told him, taking another bite, and he grinned in satisfaction.

“I made them for a lovely young woman.” He replied, bowing from the saddle, and she giggled faintly. She nibbled away at her scone, held safe and warm in Emmrich’s embrace, slowly feeling the fog of exhaustion begin to lighten.

“You’re awake.” She looked up again at the sound of Cassandra’s voice from the other side of the cart. She was smiling, but concern still shone in her eyes, and the answering smile Rook offered her was shaky. “You shouldn’t scare him like that.” The Seeker murmured, with a pointed look at Emmrich, a hint of humour in her tone, although her eyes were serious as a fresh wound. Emmrich gave an annoyed huff, and Rook turned to look at him again with tender eyes.

“I didn’t mean to-…” She began, and Emmrich waved away the nascent apology, shaking his head.

“I know you didn’t, my darling.” He murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her brow. “You obviously needed the rest.” In truth, the only other time he had found her so deeply exhausted that he could not rouse her had been in the days following the fall of the Gods. The fact that he now knew she had been recuperating from a miscarriage at that time, cast fresh light on the way she had seemingly drifted through those first few days, losing time even when she appeared awake at times, as well as the way her body and mind seemed to take refuge in sleep, both for physical healing, and for a much-needed escape from a reality that had turned cruel. He became aware that she was watching him, a frown on her face, her brow furrowed with cautious concern, and he wondered how long he had been woolgathering. “I’m sorry, dearest, did you say something?” He blinked at her, and her frown deepened.

“You were far away just now.” She said softly, letting the observation hang between them without giving voice to the implied question. He drew in a deep shuddering breath, hesitating to give her the answer she sought. She waited him out calmly.

“I was just remembering the last time you were this drained, my love.” He whispered, and her mouth fell open, as she immediately divined the direction his thoughts would have taken.

“This is… nothing like that.” She said very softly, bringing her hand up to touch his cheek very softly. Her fingers were cold against his face, and he turned his head to kiss her chilled skin, prompting a small smile. “I’ll be all right.” She murmured, gazing at him in open adoration, his answering smile tender.

“Are you still cold, my dear?” He asked softly, and she nodded slowly. He sighed, grabbing one of the blankets and wrapping it around her softly. He glanced at the half-eaten scone in her hand, and as if his look reminded her of its existence, she took another bite. “Lady Cassandra says we will reach Halam’shiral tomorrow.” Emmrich told her, as she continued to eat slowly.

“It will be nice to see Bellara and Davrin.” She responded, smiling softly. “And Assan.”

“I’m sure they are looking forward to seeing you as well.” He assured her, and she shot him a sharp look.

“Us.” She corrected flatly, and he chuckled, conceding the point with a nod, pressing a soft kiss to her hair.

“As you say, my darling.” He murmured, keeping to himself the sense he had always had that his usefulness to the Veilguard was more based on his importance to Rook than any facet of his own considerable expertise. Of course, acceptance of that would first require that she accept her own role as not just the leader, but the essential beating heart of the team, an acceptance which he knew was beyond her at the best of times. This was decidedly not the best of times. She finished her scone, and he lifted the plate once again, offering her a second one. She hesitated, then took one, taking another small nibble.

“Where is Elannora?” She asked in sudden realisation, and Emmrich smiled reassuringly.

“Vorgoth has her.” He said, raising his head to look around quickly. “They are not far, if you would like me to call them over?” He offered.

“No need.” She replied, but her answering smile was grateful. “They will bring her if she needs us.” She relaxed against him once again, letting her cheek nuzzle into his chest, taking another small nibble of her scone. He continued holding her, smiling ruefully as she embellished his shirtfront with crumbs, because at least she was eating something.

As Cassandra had predicted, Halam’shiral came into sight just before midday the following day — a modest city on the borderline between the Frostbacks and the forests of the Dales, its skyline dominated by the Winter Palace. Emmrich had once again joined Rook in the cart, so he was holding her in his arms as she took in the sight, the blending of Elvhen and Orlesian architectural styles making for a city of extraordinary beauty. Even having seen more of Arlathan than nearly anybody alive, the sight of Halam’shiral, still intact, and vibrant, and lived-in, was enough to bring tears to her eyes, her mouth falling open in a silent expression of wonder.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” Emmrich said softly, giving her a little squeeze, and she nodded mutely, still staring at the vista spread in the valley below them.

Having been raised in the Necropolis among the Mourn Watch, Rook rarely felt any real kinship with the elves of other lands. The wild lives led by the Dalish, the struggles of city elves in the alienages of Ferelden and Orlais, and especially the widespread enslavement of elves across Tevinter all seemed impossibly far removed from her own life experience. However, something in the almost magical beauty of Halam’shiral touched something deep inside her, as if the very buildings were welcoming her home.

Even on the outskirts of town, there was nothing run-down or shabby to be seen, the streets tree-lined, the gardens well-kept, and the houses cozy-looking, though small. The road they followed opened up to a lively market square before they had gone too far, and seeing the way Rook perked up at the sight of a stall selling chocolate-dipped fruit, Emmrich obliged the entire party to stop briefly so he could buy her some. Cassandra made eye contact with Durden, and although no verbal order was given, he nodded smartly, and took off in the direction of the Winter Palace at an unhurried canter. There were several further distractions, Lucanis insisting on replenishing his stock of herbs, Neve needing quills and ink for her perpetual notetaking, and several of the Seekers were taken by a display of small weapons.

“It appears Marquise Briala is in residence.” Cassandra commented, gently drawing the party’s attention back to their goal, the palace, where the Marquise’s standard flew proudly over the battlements. “They will be expecting us.” Those who had made purchases stowed them quickly, and they set off again. Emmrich began happily feeding Rook her treat of chocolate covered fruit as the cart rumbled along the much smoother roads of the city. They hadn’t gotten much further when a familiar screech rang out from the direction of the palace. Thus forewarned, Rook looked to the sky and was able to see the distant winged form of a griffon take to the air and come arrowing towards them. As Assan flew closer, they were able to see the two riders who clung to his back.

“Griffon, incoming.” Taash called out, and the Seekers exchanged shocked looks, each taking tighter hold of their reins. Natalia moved her own horse closer to where the spare mounts, Dancer, and Emmrich’s original steed, where tethered to the cart on long leading reins, ready to take action if either of them seemed inclined to panic. In a matter of moments, Assan was swooping down to land amongst them, and there followed a brief period of chaos, more due to the reactions of citizens of Halam’shiral who happened to be nearby than anything else.

Hopping down from Assan’s back, with an ease that indicated she had done this many times, Bellara hurried towards the cart where Rook lay, still held in Emmrich’s arms. The younger elf scrambled up into the bed of the cart, her soft gaze taking in Rook’s pallor and Emmrich’s protective posture, a sad smile coming to her face.

“Hey Rook….” She drew out the vowels of the seemingly casual greeting, her expression anything but casual. Rook’s answering smile was a wan sickly little thing, her white lips quivering as if it cost her physical effort. “Neve said you’ve been sick….” Bellara said softly, frowning a little, as she continued to survey Rook’s gaunt face and wasted frame. “You should be resting.”

“I am resting.” Rook countered, indicating the cart and Emmrich’s solicitous embrace with a tilt of her head.

“She only tried riding on the first day.” Cassandra put in dryly, frowning at Rook in exasperation. “When she fainted and nearly fell from the saddle, we thought we’d best procure a cart.”

“She did fall from the saddle!” Natalia corrected flatly. “That’s why I had to catch her!” Bellara stared at the two Seekers in horror, her brow furrowed, as if she was trying to decide if they were exaggerating. The grim look on Emmrich’s face told her they were not. She turned her attention back to Rook, who was scowling.

“Should you… be here?” She asked hesitantly, eyes wide with distress. Rook’s mouth twisted with obvious irritation, but she closed her eyes, drawing a harsh breath, then another, slower, clearly striving for calm.

“Perhaps not.” She conceded with poor grace. “But I couldn’t bear to stay safe at the Lighthouse while everybody else went off into Maker knows what danger, where I wouldn’t even know if something happened until weeks later!” She had told herself she was not going to break down, as she had when the same conversation had occurred at the Lighthouse between her and Emmrich, but she knew she was failing, when Emmrich’s hand moved to gently squeeze the nape of her neck. She subsided against him, realising all at once that she was shaking. Bellara eyed her in concern, but decided to follow the shift in focus.

“We heard about what happened to Emmrich.” She said, glancing uncertainly at him now, and he gave her a reassuring smile.

“I’m fine, my dear.” He assured her, gently extricating his right hand and holding it out so she could inspect the scarring if she wished. She very gently took his hand, turning it over slowly, her eyes widening in horror as he took in the full extent of the damage.

“Your whole arm?…” She asked faintly, and Emmrich nodded.

“He broke his hip too.” Rook chimed in grimly, and Bellara turned back to her, still holding onto Emmrich’s hand. “Didn’t even tell Myrna until the day after they got back, and he’d been walking on it for days.” Emmrich sighed, gently reclaiming his hand from Bellara’s grasp and bringing it to cup Rook’s cheek softly.

“I’m fine now, though, darling.” He reminded her. “Fully healed.” She nodded with a shaky little smile, and Bellara watched in silence. While they talked, the party had resumed moving, Davrin, mounted on Assan again, had taken up a position immediately behind the cart where he could keep an eye on the conversation taking place there. Much as Assan might have preferred to fly, he clearly understood the importance of watching over Rook and Bellara, and trotted along contentedly enough, keeping pace with the horses, many of whom continued to eye him apprehensively.

Now that her initial concerns had been allayed, Bellara began to chatter easily about their adventures thus far in the Dales, and Rook let her head lean against Emmrich’s shoulder, as her friend’s exuberance washed over her in a sparkling wave of words. Rook adored Bellara, but her energy could be quite exhausting when she was excited about something, and at the moment, she seemed excited simply at seeing her friends again. Rook’s head was spinning, but she tried to stay awake, not wishing to hurt Bellara’s feelings by drifting off in the midst of her storytelling. Emmrich understood what she was trying to do, and as always he had nothing but respect for her kindness, but his concern deepened, as she gradually began to tremble again in his arms. He let this go on for a few minutes, then reluctantly raised a quelling hand towards Bellara.

“Forgive me for interrupting, my dear….” He said as gently as he could, turning his full attention back to his wife as Bellara fell silent. “Lilya?” He murmured her name, cupping her cheek, which was strangely flushed. He frowned when she didn’t answer, shifting to cup her face in both hands. She appeared conscious, her eyes were open if unfocused, but there was a vaguely puzzled frown on her face as he called her name again. She blinked at him, slowly, trying to force his face into focus, then all at once her eyes rolled back, and she sagged against him, her body twitching and seizing erratically. Emmrich’s eyes widened in alarm, and he exchanged a brief horrified glance with Bellara before his head snapped up, gaze searching for his father-in-law. “Vorgoth!” His call rang with worry, and Vorgoth swooped quickly over to join them.

“WHAT HAS HAPPENED?” Emmrich was cradling Rook against him, holding her securely, but not trying overmuch to restrict her movements, as her body convulsed weakly, just making sure she didn’t fall and do herself some further injury.

“It just started.” Emmrich said helplessly, fighting anxious tears, as Vorgoth wordlessly handed off Elannora to Bellara, who was still there, looking horrified, and reached over to take Rook’s unresisting hands in their own. Their magic began flowing, power and precision, a delicate trickle of energy gently weaving through Rook’s very being, attempting once again to repair some of what was so terribly broken inside her. All of this took only a matter of minutes, during which time they arrived at the Winter Palace.

Cassandra had moved to the front of the group as the approached, and it was she who moved first to meet the Marquise, who had apparently turned out the entire household to greet the visitors. In a low voice, Cassandra explained the situation as best she could, without going into any specifics about Rook’s illness. Briala sent immediately for a litter to carry Rook, who had lapsed into mere unconsciousness again, the seizure having passed under Vorgoth’s expert ministrations, to a guest room. Emmrich relinquished his hold on Rook only reluctantly, but as a pair of burly footmen were carefully transferring her from the cart bed to the litter, he managed to tear himself away long enough to bow deeply to Marquise Briala before excusing himself, with a deeply grateful look for Cassandra, and a pause to reclaim Elannora from Bellara, to follow the men in the process of whisking Rook away.

The guest wing of the Winter Palace had an interesting layout, with stately bedrooms arrayed around a central parlor and dining room area. This was all he had time to notice as he followed the litter bearers into one of the bedrooms, watching as Rook was efficiently transferred to the bed, and then the men were bowing their way out. Emmrich used a small bit of magic to draw a chair from its place by the fire to the bedside, settling into it, Elannora cradled in his arms. She was awake but quiet, snuggling contentedly in her father’s embrace as he watched over his beloved Rook.

“I must beg your pardon, my Lady.” Cassandra’s words were careful, her childhood training serving her well, despite her abhorrence of the posturing required by the various Thedosian courts. “This came on quite suddenly; had I known when I sent Seeker Durden on ahead, I might have handled things quite differently.” Briala eyed her sharply for a moment, grey eyes slightly narrowed, and Cassandra suppressed a sigh, remembering that before being raised to nobility, Briala had been a spymaster at least as successful as the Inquisition’s own Sister Leiliana — and that was by Leiliana’s own admission. “My part in this was to have been simply escorting the Veilguard party to your holdings, however, given the circumstances, I believe we shall remain, and offer what aid we can.” She went on bluntly, not much caring what conclusions the Marquise might be drawing from her words. Briala allowed herself a cool smile.

“I’m sure the presence of the Seekers will be most beneficial in these uncertain times.” She said diplomatically, and Cassandra wasn’t able to completely suppress a grimace at the distinct lack of warmth. After a moment of this tension, Briala chuckled, startling Cassandra with the sudden dropping of her guard. “Relax, Seeker.” She said dryly. “Do not think I have forgotten the role that you and your Inquisition played in establishing my power here.” She turned to Bellara, who was being reassured by Neve that nothing she had done could have caused the sudden worsening of Rook’s condition, her smile softening into clear fondness. “I have had occasion to be quite grateful for the assistance offered by Veilguards Bellara and Davrin, and will gladly take all the help I can get.” She added, with an ironic lift of a finely sculpted brow.

“Thank you for coming, Veilguards, Seekers.” She raised her voice easily, turning to address the group at large. “I will have you all shown to rooms, so that you may freshen up and rest a bit before dinner. If you should require anything, please do not hesitate to let the household staff know, and they will do their best to accommodate you.” The group was led off into the palace, finding themselves in the guest wing, and all very conscious of the one closed door, where they knew Rook and Emmrich must be.

Bellara settled herself in the common sitting room with Caz, keeping him entertained and out of the way while Lucanis and Neve took turns bathing and dressing for dinner. Then, once they had reclaimed their son, she approached the closed door, knocking very quietly. There was a moment’s silence, then an equally quiet call of “Come in.” from within. Bellara let herself into the room, her soft-soled Elvhen boots making no sound as she padded over to stand next to Emmrich at Rook’s bedside. He didn’t look up, but as she came up beside him, she could see a faint smile playing across his lips.

“Emmrich?…” Her voice was very soft, not wanting to disturb Rook, and he turned his head now to look at her. His anguish was clear on his face, and she hesitated, seeing it, swallowing hard before going on. “Emmrich, are you okay?” She asked intently. He blinked, surprised, not having expected her to still be asking about his well-being.

“I’m fine, Bellara, as I told you: fully healed.” He told her, his tone as reassuring as he could make it, and she shook her head.

“That’s not what I meant, Professor.” She told him, a noticeable edge in her voice. He frowned, turning more of his body to face her properly. “I know you’re worried about Rook, Emmrich, but you look terrible.” She told him bluntly. “You look like you haven’t slept properly in days.” She went on, her voice still quiet, but fierce, and he reflected ruefully that she must have been talking with the others, and was now saying aloud all the things none of them had dared to during the journey through the mountains. “Have you at least been eating properly?” She asked, as if she was daring him to prevaricate on the subject.

“When I have the chance.” He muttered reluctantly, and her frown deepened.

“I know that Lucanis is always the one cooking when I’m not there, Emmrich.” She told him with forced patience. “I know that he knows what you can and can’t eat, and will always make sure to have something for you to enjoy, even if he has to make it special, just for you and Rook.” Emmrich wetted his lips in an unaccustomedly nervous manner, his shoulders tensing with mounting shame, as she went on. “And just because Rook can’t always eat, if she’s not feeling well, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.” She concluded. “I mean, Vorgoth is here, and they don’t need to eat or sleep, if you need someone to watch over Rook so you can get some rest or something to eat. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind!” Her voice was growing a bit louder, as her diatribe went on, but Rook did not stir. Emmrich gave a startled bark of laughter, and Bellara’s eyebrows shot up.

“Forgive me.” He muttered, glancing guiltily at Rook, who slept on, unbothered. “I have recently learned that it was actually Vorgoth who raised her, until she was old enough to enter the Circle of Magi, so no, I’m sure they would not mind.” He explained.

“So it’s settled, when we’re summoned for dinner, you’ll come with us.” Bellara said flatly. Emmrich looked towards Rook’s comatose form, clearly torn, but anything further he might have said, whether to acquiesce or argue, was pre-empted by the door opening once again to admit Vorgoth.

“WE ARE GLAD THAT IS SETTLED.” They said simply, giving Bellara what must have been an approving nod. It seemed only a minute or two later when a dinner bell was sounded, and Vorgoth shooed both Emmrich and Bellara from the room before settling down for their own vigil over Rook’s inert form.

Chapter Text

Dinner had ended, and Emmrich had forced himself, at the team’s urging, to remain with them around the table a bit longer, to be part of the discussions of what their next steps should be now that they had arrived. Even as he struggled to focus on the inarguably important conversation, his mind kept straying back to Rook, as he had left her, frail and unconscious, and horribly vulnerable. Even the knowledge that Vorgoth was with her, the certainty that Vorgoth would allow no further harm to come to their child, did little to ease the feeling of rising dread that clawed at his chest. By the time the meeting ended, he bolted to his feet, turning on his heel without a word, and all but ran from the room.

He only checked his pace when he reached the door to their guest room, wiping sweaty palms against his trousers and taking a deep breath before quietly letting himself in. Everything appeared as he had left it, Vorgoth hovered by the bedside, and Rook lay still, her breathing barely shifting the comforter that covered her. Vorgoth looked around as Emmrich entered, offering a simple nod by way of greeting, before turning back to the elf woman on the bed.

“WE KNOW THAT MANY HAVE TOLD YOU THIS ALREADY.” Vorgoth began, their tone deliberately mild, despite the sepulchral echoes their voice always carried. “YOU CANNOT CARE FOR LILYA AT THE EXPENSE OF YOUR OWN HEALTH.” Emmrich gaped at them. He was not certain what he had expected, but it was definitely not a lecture on taking better care of himself. Not from Vorgoth, of all beings. “YOUR WELL-BEING IS PRECIOUS TO HER, AND THUS IT IS PRECIOUS TO US.” They went on implacably. “YOU MUST STAY WELL, IF YOU ARE TO CARE FOR HER.” He sighed heavily at that, nodding slowly.

“I know.” He said, mortified to hear the way his voice wobbled, his view of Rook’s still face blurring as tears sprang into his eyes. “But… when she is hurt or ill… vulnerable… nothing else matters — Nothing!” His voice had risen, and he broke off, squeezing his eyes shut, grasping for control, the anxious feeling of an unbearable weight pressed to his chest, which had subsided with the sight of Rook, roaring back now.

“CALM YOURSELF, PROFESSOR.” Vorgoth’s voice rose slightly as well, somewhat matching Emmrich’s energy, while endeavouring to bring it down a bit. “WE ARE NOT SUGGESTING THAT YOU NEGLECT OUR CHILD. WE ARE SIMPLY RECOMMENDING THAT YOU REMEMBER THAT YOUR OWN MORTAL BODY HAS THE SAME NEEDS.” Emmrich blinked, feeling as if he had had the wind knocked out of him by this gentle chiding.

“Of course….” He floundered, jaw working as he fought to calm his breathing. “Quite so….” For the first time since her seizure, Rook stirred, eyelids flickering weakly, a faint moan escaping her, and Emmrich’s focus was absolute and immediate. He moved to sit gingerly on the edge of the bed beside her, one hand taking one of hers, the other moving to her cheek. “Darling….” His voice was a whisper, but the warmth of it prompted a weak smile, as she opened her eyes to blink up at him, her gaze unfocused, as it had been in the moments before the fit. “Flame of my heart….”

“Emmrich….” There was no sound to speak of, but her lips clearly formed the shapes of his name.

“I’m here, Lilya. You’re all right, you’re safe.” He murmured, bringing her hand up to his own face and brushing tender kisses over her knuckles. She continued to blink in exhausted confusion, squinting at her surroundings as if that would allow her to make sense of them.

“Where am I?” She asked, her words still more movement than voice.

“You’re in a guest room of the Winter Palace, dear one.” He told her. “Do you remember arriving in Halam’shiral?” He asked, and she frowned.

“I… do….” She answered slowly, her voice beginning to gain in strength, although she still sounded out of breath. “I was… eating strawberries…. Bellara was… telling me… something.” She trailed off, looking puzzled. “It was… important that I… listen…. Pay attention….” He sighed, noting how her breathing was growing strained again.

“It’s all right.” He murmured, gently pressing her hand to his chest, allowing her to feel the steady beat of his heart, giving a small smile as he felt her begin to relax. “You mustn’t push yourself so hard, little one.” He went on, fingertips very gently playing at the edge of her hairline, and she let her eyes slip closed again.

“But… Bel-….” She began, trying to object and fight the continued pull of exhaustion, both.

“Bellara will understand, dearest.” He assured her, continuing to rub lightly, a little further into her hair, massaging her scalp. “She wants you to rest and feel better, as much as the rest of us.” She gave a very faint whine, and he bit his lip, the sound piercing straight to his heart. “Are you in pain, my darling?” He asked gently, and she dragged her eyes open again to blink up at him.

“Head hurts….” She mumbled faintly. “My body… aches….” He frowned, glancing uncertainly towards Vorgoth.

“TO BE EXPECTED.” Vorgoth said calmly, and a weak smile curved Rook’s lips.

“Daddy….” She whispered.

“YES, LITTLE FLOWER, WE ARE HERE.” Vorgoth’s rumbling voice was gentle, as it only seemed to become when they spoke to her.

“You should eat something, darling.” Emmrich put in softly, and he looked up in surprise as the door opened, as if in response to those words. Manfred put his head in, and Emmrich realised he must have been listening at the door.

“I get Mama dinner!” Manfred said eagerly, and sighing a bit ruefully, Emmrich nodded his approval of the offer, at the same time making a mental note to have a word with him about eavesdropping. But another time, not now. While the wisp was gone on his mission, Emmrich helped Rook to sit up, rearranging the pillows so she could sit, propped up in cool softness, both Emmrich and Vorgoth watching her for any signs of further discomfort, which came in the form of a faint moan as she sagged dizzily against Emmrich’s supporting hands and the soft pillows at her back, her pale brow lined with pain.

“Darling….” Emmrich murmured, moving to sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her, and drawing her in to lean against him. He felt tension bleed out of her in a rush, but her breathing was shallow and fast, and her body felt hot against him. Without a word, Vorgoth fetched a glass of cold water from a sideboard Emmrich had not noticed, handing it to him, and Emmrich very gently fed Rook a few small sips, pausing to let her breathe for a moment, then a few more.

By the time she had drained the glass, sip by sip, Manfred had returned with a tray which included a selection of foods to choose from, and a full tea service. Manfred immediately busied himself fixing a cup of tea, and Vorgoth silently refilled the water glass from the pitcher that was waiting. Meanwhile, Emmrich turned his attention to the food that was on offer, smiling as his gaze fell on a dish of an airy concoction of eggs, cheese, and herbs, that he had very much enjoyed at dinner. Having cooled, the souffle had lost some of its cloudlike texture, but Rook gave a soft hum of pleasure as he offered her a small bite. Heartened by her response, he continued to spoonfeed her patiently, pausing from time to time to offer her sips of tea or water.

Once she had eaten her fill, Manfred and Vorgoth both left the room, allowing Emmrich to strip down to his shirtsleeves, and give Rook a bath. He was very careful to keep the water quite a bit cooler than he normally would have, and he kept one arm around her shoulders in support at all times as he gently cleansed her of the dust of the road, and the sweat of her illness. When it came time to wash her hair, he needed both hands, so he stripped completely, joining her in the generously-sized soaker tub, drawing her back to lean against his chest, cradling her between his thighs as he began working soft herbal-scented suds into her hair, rubbing her scalp with gentle fingers.

At first, Rook had held herself stiff, anxious at even the very shallow water of the bath lapping around her, but as it became clear that Emmrich did not intend to let go of her for anything, even though working one-handed made the whole process somewhat more difficult, his other hand curled softly around her upper arm as he held her, taking no chances that her lingering dizziness should cause any problems while she was surrounded by water, she began to relax. By the time he had finished with her hair, and used his hands to gently sluice water over her head to rinse away the lingering suds, she was boneless against him, still conscious, still awake, but drifting in a state of total repose, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her back. He shifted, repositioning his hands on her, gathering her into the cradle of his arms, so that he could stand, keeping her clasped securely against his chest. He pulled two towels from the shelf, spreading one on the bed for himself to sit on, and using the other to begin drying her. She blinked at him drowsily as he worked, as always, her gaze showing utter trust and adoration.

“When you look at me like that, I feel I could do anything.” He murmured lightly, pausing in his work with the towel to return her gaze, his own eyes conveying his complete devotion. Satisfied with the state of everything except for her hair, he used a gentle drying spell to finish, dressing her in a soft nightgown, and eased her back down onto the pillows so that he could finish drying and dressing himself for sleep. Then he rifled through her pack until he located her hairbrush, knowing as well as she did that if he did not impose some sort of order on her vivid curls now, it would be all the more difficult in the morning. When he had finished, he kissed her very tenderly, and joined her in the bed, drawing her into his arms as they both drifted off to sleep.

By morning, Rook was feeling well enough to join everybody for breakfast, and to be properly introduced to Briala, the Elvhen slave-turned spy-turned noble. Though guarded, Briala was quite pleasant, and her sharp eyes shone with genuine concern when she looked at Rook. Orlesian cuisine being what it was, breakfast involved many egg dishes, and a great deal of cheese, butter, and cream, and she was only able to stomach a few small bites of each offering of the rich fare, before she settled back with her teacup, feeling uncomfortably full. She was aware that everyone was watching her closely, their concern almost palpable, and she hated it, even though she knew that concern was well founded. That knowledge did nothing to improve her mood.

Emmrich was deeply aware of the frustration seething through her, the feeling churning along with her unsettled stomach, and he frowned faintly. Just for an instant, he felt what she felt, her breathless, choking nausea surging into him as if it was his own, the awful immediacy of he sensation causing him to stiffen, and she looked up sharply, their eyes meeting. Then it was gone, and he stared at her in dawning horror. It wasn’t just the nausea, although that was considerable, it was the general sense of exhaustion, weakness, heaviness, as if her own corporeality was an impossible burden to bear, and the necessity of breathing only made it more so. Every fibre of her body ached, but that pervasive discomfort was shot through with sudden sparks of intense pain that seemed to travel throughout her strained muscles.

And worse even than the physical sensations, terrible though those were, was the knowledge that this was her feeling better, that the last several days had been somehow worse. He couldn’t suppress a slight shudder as he tried and failed to imagine what that might have been like. She called his name, a frown and a question in her voice, and he blinked, realising that she was still staring at him, her brow slightly furrowed in what was unmistakably concern. He blinked again, the exchange seeming to have drawn the attention of everyone else at the table. He opened his mouth to answer her, but nothing came out, so he closed it again.

“Hey Emmrich, you good?” Taash’s voice snapped him more fully back to reality, and he blinked once again, shaking himself slightly.

“I’m sorry, did I miss something?” He asked, his voice coming out smooth and calm, just as he had intended.

“I dunno, I feel like we missed something, actually.” Taash replied, still eyeing him uncertainly.

“Oh… I’m fine….” Emmrich assured them, although the certainty in his tone faded as he spoke. “I was just….” He trailed off, frowning in puzzlement, unsure how to put into words what he had just experienced.

“It was like… you were in me… just for an instant.” Rook said very softly, her piercing gaze still fixed on his face. He nodded slowly.

“And I felt… everything.” His voice had dropped to a horrified whisper, tears springing into his eyes.

“I’m sorry….” Rook mumbled, gaze dropping as if in shame, as if she were somehow responsible. He caught her chin with gentle fingers, tilting her head until she met his gaze again.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, my darling girl.” He told her fervently. “None of this is your fault.” They had always had a profound connection, the deep bond between them having only strengthened in the years they had been married, but this was different. It was visceral, even beyond the deep awareness he could summon of another’s body when he healed, because while it was possible for him to know what his patient was feeling, that was not the same thing as experiencing it. The others finished eating, Emmrich’s own meal completely forgotten, and then they all dispersed to their rooms to prepare themselves for the day’s tasks.

Emmrich and Cassandra had agreed to accompany Bellara to investigate a fade anomaly she had discovered on the edge of the nearby forest, so once he had Rook installed back in her bed, under the watchful gaze of Vorgoth, and had given Manfred his instructions, to keep her company if she wished it, and to bring her food to eat at regular intervals, whether she wished it or not. Then he donned his armour, pulled on the red leather glove he wore to protect his staff hand from the necrotic energies of his magic, and did a quick check of his pockets and belt pouches to make sure he had a good stock of potions, and field medical supplies, should they be needed. Then he returned to the bed, bending to kiss Rook in farewell.

“Be careful!” Her voice was quiet, but the depth of emotion in it was unmistakable. She was trying very hard not to think about the last time he had gone on a mission without her. He took her face between his hands, very gently rubbing his thumbs along her cheekbones, taking her anxiety with utter seriousness.

“My darling, if you think Bellara and Cassandra will allow me to do otherwise….” She had somehow not expected that particular angle to be the one he took, and it startled her into a burst of laughter. He broke off, looking slightly bemused, then relieved as her small smile did not fade.

“Cassandra will take care of you.” She said with certainty, and he nodded.

“She will.” He murmured simply. He didn’t object to the implication that he was not able to take care of himself, he knew that her anxiety was not born of any lack of faith in his abilities, but due to the trauma they had both suffered from that fateful mission he had taken with Taash. “I love you, my darling.” He murmured. “More than anything.” He gave her another lingering kiss, then straightened with a nod to Vorgoth, took up his staff, and left the room.

Chapter Text

Bellara kept up a steady stream of chatter as they made their way on horseback to the outskirts of the city. Cassandra shot Emmrich a few wide-eyed looks, not having realised that Bellara could keep this up indefinitely, and generally would unless asked to stop. The only indication that she was aware of the seriousness of their mission, was that the closer they drew to their destination, the faster her words came, tripping over each other as her nervousness mounted.

“Bellara.” Emmrich’s voice was gentle but firm as he cut her off, and she blinked at him, wide-eyed, her mouth snapping shut. “My dear, I need you to take three slow breaths for me.” He told her simply. She blinked again, nodding, dropping easily into the calming breaths he had taught her, years ago, back at the Lighthouse. By the time she had finished, she was calmer, although a bit flushed with embarrassment.

“Sorry, Professor, Seeker.” She said contritely, glancing back and forth between Emmrich and Cassandra.

“Something about this anomaly you’re taking us to has unsettled you.” Emmrich stated, eyeing her expectantly. She sighed, nodding.

“I can’t explain it.” She told him. “You’ll see when we get there.” With that, she fell silent, and remained that way for the next several minutes, as they rode through the thickening trees into the Dalish forest.

They heard it before they saw it, a strange whistle of energy, that seemed to pulse in time with some steady beat, and almost immediately began giving Emmrich a headache. The fade was wavering tangibly around them, and the obvious instability only increased as they continued. Emmrich knew that Bellara was aware of it, even before she spoke again.

“It makes my teeth itch!” She muttered absently, one hand moving to scrub ineffectually at her face. Emmrich nodded, tongue running absently over his own incisors, thinking that the phrase was quite apt. “Does it feel like… the fade is squirming to you, Professor?” She asked, and he blinked, nodding again.

“Yes, I believe it does.” He said mildly, frowning. Cassandra shot an uneasy glance back and forth between the two of them, unable to sense any of what had them on edge. “I would expect… spirit activity, at the very least, around the anomaly.” He went on, with a significant look for the Seeker. He saw her eyes narrow slightly, nodding, lips pursing as she readied herself mentally for the fight which would inevitably come. Emmrich knew that Cassandra had dealt with more than her share of tears in the veil, as well as walking the fade itself with the Inquisition, and he was confident she could handle anything that might await them.

The sound of the anomaly itself was soon underpinned by an eerie moaning, and at about the same time, Emmrich became aware of the emotional pang that indicated there were despair spirits nearby. As they grew closer still, his own unease mounted more than he would have expected, and it wasn’t until they reached the anomaly itself that he understood why. The temperature dropped as they stepped into a rough clearing, hoar frost coating leaves and branches of nearby trees. At the centre floated two spirits of despair, but around the edges, he could easily detect the unsettling flickers that denoted the presence of what appeared to be several spirits of fear. He swallowed hard, taking a moment to master his heightened emotions, glancing at Bellara and Cassandra to see how they were managing.

“The fear you feel is not entirely your own.” He warned, his voice low and intent. “There are fear spirits here.” Both women blinked at him, and while Bellara looked relieved, he saw a light of anger kindle in Cassandra’s eyes. He suppressed a smile, knowing that the Seeker particularly resented having her emotions manipulated. They were ready.

Cassandra took the lead instinctively, stepping fully into the open, sword and shield held ready, giving a challenging shout that called the attention of all of the spirits, which moved to attack her. Bellara began firing arrow after arrow from the shelter of the trees, and Emmrich fade stepped smoothly to a different point along the edge of the clearing, reaching for his magic, drawing on the considerable energy of the anomaly itself to weave protective barriers around both of his allies, before beginning to hurl waves of necrotic destruction at the spirits.

Cassandra was a force of nature, laying about her with blade and shield alike, striking anything foolish enough to come close with devastating strength, and at times expertly directing her attackers into the path of Emmrich’s spells or Bellara’s arrows. The initial furor of combat ebbed as the despair spirits and several spirits of fear all fell in quick succession, but the respite was short-lived, the anomaly seeming to growl as it disgorged a mixed group of wraiths and shades.

“Can you close it?” Cassandra shot the question at Emmrich as she hurled herself at the new foes, blade flashing in the eerie fade light shed by the anomaly itself.

“I can.” Emmrich responded, tendrils of his magic shooting out to restrain a many-limbed fear spirit as it flickered into sight behind her. “But I’m afraid it’s not a simple matter of clenching my fist. I’ll need a few minutes to work.”

“Do it!” She snapped, spinning to dispatch the spirit before using a swing of her shield to hurl a shade that was coming up on her right flank back, where it was promptly pinned by one of Bellara’s arrows. Without another word, Emmrich refreshed both Cassandra’s and Bellara’s barriers, doubling the one around himself, just in case anything should manage to get past his companions, and then, after taking a measured breath to centre himself, he reached out to the writhing mass of fade energy, delving into the substance of the anomaly itself.

The veil was a tangled mess, and Emmrich barely noticed the battle that continued to rage around him, as he focused on trying to unravel whatever was holding it open. He distantly heard Cassandra give a harsh grunting cry, and took a moment to refresh her barrier once more. His attention was bent on the tangle of magic that had formed around what appeared to be a tear in the substance of the veil itself. The longer he teased at it, the more likely it became that the tear, and the surrounding tangle, had been created deliberately. With a frown, he brought to mind everything he could recall about the rituals used by Solas, Anaris, and Johanna, aiming to sunder the veil, and to his dismay, he found elements of each of those long-ago rituals in what he was currently examining. Their enemy had clearly done their homework, the only question being whether they intended to destroy the veil completely, as Solas had, or merely to create an access point to the raw fade, providing those on this side with a ready source of energy and potential demonic minions taking advantage of the instability to come through from the other side.

“Bellara!” He called out urgently, dragging his attention back to the here and now. “Remember Blackthorne! We shall have to defeat any spirits that have come through before I will be able to close it!”

“Right, Professor!” Bellara’s voice rang with determination, and he smiled faintly, giving a short nod. Cassandra raised her eyebrows curiously, but said nothing, most of her attention still focused on their spiritual foes.

“Seeker, I will not be able to maintain your barrier and close this at the same time.” He warned.

“Do what must be done, Professor Volkarin.” She replied grimly. He nodded, closing his eyes and breathing deep to centre himself, then setting to work, with all of his customary precision, beginning to gently tease out the strands of magic that held the strange gateway in place. The work was painstaking, and it just so happened that he unraveled the last of it just as the last demon fell beneath Cassandra’s blade. The gate shut with an audible snap, and Emmrich staggered, gasping.

“Emmrich!” Bellara called his name, and he realised with a start that he was lying on the ground, blinking up at her as she crouched over him, wide-eyed with worry. He blinked a few more times, trying to clear his head. “Oh… Rook’s gonna kill me!” Bellara wailed.

“I….” His voice emerged as a breathless croak, but it quieted the distraught elf as he tried again. “I’m all right, Bellara.” He managed, pushing himself into a sitting position, fingers curling as if to hold onto the ground as his head swam.

“You don’t look particularly ‘all right’.” Cassandra put in dryly, and he raised his head to find her standing nearby, watching him with a frown. “You look as if you are hanging on for dear life.” She went on, one eyebrow arching, lips curving into an ironic smirk.

“I just need a moment….” Emmrich insisted, attempting to inject some firmness into his tone.

“Well, well, what have we here?” A very familiar voice rang out, the tone conveying a warm playfulness, despite the apparent mockery in the words. The trio looked up to find a leather-clad dark-haired woman with piercing golden eyes descending from a tree at the edge of the clearing with as much ease as if she was stepping down a flight of stairs.

“Lady Morrigan!” Bellara was the first to speak, her face lighting up with recognition.

“Hello Bellara.” Morrigan greeted her warmly. “Seeker Pentaghast.” She went on with a more formal nod for Cassandra. “And Professor Volkarin, but where is your lovely wife?” Emmrich swallowed hard, and both Bellara and Cassandra looked to him for an answer.

“I’m afraid Lilya is quite unwell.” He said heavily. “She is at the Winter Palace, resting.” Morrigan frowned, eyes narrowing slightly as she held his gaze firm with her own for a moment.

“Perhaps I’d best come back with you, and see if there’s anything I can do.” She said mildly, and he nodded without hesitation.

“Any assistance you can offer will be gratefully accepted.” He told her formally, and she smiled again, reaching a graceful hand down to help him to his feet. He accepted the assistance, startled by the strength with which she pulled him upright. She walked with them back to where they had left the horses, then as the three mounted, she shifted into the form of a crow and took to the sky, wheeling swiftly and darting off in the direction of the city.

By the time Emmrich’s party reached the Winter Palace, the place was once again in an uproar. Clearly the Marquise and her household had not been aware that Morrigan was in the area, so her sudden appearance at their gates had taken them completely off-guard. Despite the fact that there was no love lost personally between Briala and Morrigan, there was no denying the strange apostate’s importance, both as a former arcane advisor to Empress Celene, and as the last remaining bearer of the vast memory of Mythal, and thus when she made her presence known in the Dales, it was treated as a state visit of sorts. Morrigan seemed content to ignore the furor that her arrival had prompted, demanding to be shown to the guest wing room where Rook slept.

“MORRIGAN.” Vorgoth greeted her impassively when she entered, and she nodded in response.

“I encountered Professor Volkarin and his companions on their mission.” She told them by way of explanation. “He mentioned that Rook has been doing poorly.” She added with deliberate understatement, her gaze slipping past the large robed figure to the young woman on the bed. “I thought I would look in on her and see if there was any way I could assist.” She concluded mildly. Vorgoth regarded her in silence for a moment, then gave a wordless nod, turning back to Rook’s still form. Morrigan moved to the bedside as well, sharp gaze taking in every detail as she approached, already reaching within for the fragment of Mythal’s spirit that lingered within her, knowing that she would need whatever experience and wisdom that could be gleaned from that ancient being to be of any help at all.

Rook woke to the peculiar sensation of certain things inside her being gently rearranged. It was not a physical shift, being both deeper and more subtle, but she felt it in her every cell, things that had been so terribly out of balance for so long being gently guided back to proper alignment. Her own magic remained blissfully quiescent, as though recognising the touch of all that remained of the Evanuris, the famous benevolence of the All-Mother offering no hint of a threat. Rook blinked up at the ageless woman who stood over her. Morrigan was clearly human, and yet everything about the magic she employed cried ‘family’ to Rook’s body and spirit.

“There you are….” Morrigan murmured, a soft smile curving her thin lips, and Rook found herself smiling in answer. A touch of nausea remained, a touch of lightheadedness, but she felt more well than she had in weeks, more whole.

“Morrigan….” Her voice emerged as a cracked whisper, and she tried to clear her dry throat. With a whisper of movement, Vorgoth picked up the glass of water on her bedside table, gently raising her so that she could sip a little. “To what do I owe this honour?” She asked softly, with only a hint of irony.

“I happened upon your husband and his companions as they tangled with some demons around a fade rift not far from the edge of the city.” Morrigan replied lightly. “The sound of the rift snapping shut was near deafening, I’m almost surprised it didn’t wake you. Naturally, when I found Bellara trying to pick Emmrich up off the forest floor, I felt I should ask why you were not there to take care of him, and he told me of your troubles.”

“Is Emmrich all right?” Rook demanded, frowning at Morrigan’s words, and Morrigan nodded reassuringly.

“He is, calm yourself!” She soothed. “The backlash merely rocked him back a bit.” Rook was still frowning, but her worry eased as the door opened again to admit Emmrich himself, looking wind-tousled and tired, but otherwise unharmed.

“Darling.” He murmured, hurrying to join the others at the bedside, taking her hand in his. “You’re looking better.” He told her, glancing up at Morrigan with a grateful smile.

“Mythal remembers what Rook did for Solas, and her gratitude is vast.” Morrigan said simply. Rook pushed herself cautiously into a sitting position, and Emmrich leaned down to help her, wrapping a supportive arm securely around her frail shoulders. All three were watching her closely, searching for any sign of discomfort. Although she tried, she couldn’t suppress a faint moan, her head swimming dizzily, and she closed her eyes for a moment, letting her head sag against Emmrich’s waiting shoulder.

“Darling….” His voice was warm, his lips pressing softly against her hair.

“I’m all right.” She whispered without opening her eyes. “Just dizzy.” After a moment passed in silence, she raised her head carefully, looking around. Morrigan was watching her, a faint smile playing across her lips, and she blinked at the human’s knowing look. “You’ve the look of one who is holding a secret.” She said softly. “Would you care to share it with the rest of us?”

“Tempted though I am to see how long it takes for your spirit-speaker to notice on his own,” Morrigan admitted with a sly glance towards Emmrich. “That would be entirely unfair to you.” She turned her full attention back to Rook, whose eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. “It appears that you will be adding to your family, perhaps sooner than you had anticipated.” Morrigan told them. Rook and Emmrich exchanged a horrified glance, eyes wide, and Rook could see the telltale signs of panic on her husband’s face.

“Emmrich….” She began, trying for a soothing tone, but her own voice shaking.

“My darling… my heart… I’m sorry…. I’m so sorry….” He babbled in a breathless whisper, tears welling in his eyes, and she pressed her fingertips firmly to his lips, shaking her head.

“Emmrich, stop, listen to me!” She tried again, her voice coming stronger now, fierce in the face of his distress. He didn’t seem to hear, clutching her tight as his tears spilled over, shaking as he clung to her. “Emmrich…. Emmrich, love….” She murmured, reaching up to gently thread her fingers through his hair. “It’s all right, it will be all right, love.” After a moment of this, Morrigan sighed.

“Shall we give you two a moment?” She offered, largely rhetorically. Rook gave an apologetic smile over Emmrich’s shoulder, and Morrigan nodded, wordlessly touching Vorgoth’s upper arm as she turned towards the door. Vorgoth hesitated only a moment, then nodded, turning to follow her. Once they were alone, Rook turned her full attention on Emmrich, her voice low and soothing, gently talking him through as he fell apart in her arms. After a long while, he began gradually to calm, the tension bleeding out of him until he was slumped, exhausted in her arms, his face still hidden against her neck.

“Talk to me, love.” She whispered finally, and she felt more than heard him sigh.

“How could I have been so careless?” He asked, his voice still shaky with emotion. “You’ve been… so unwell, and to put you at such risk, so soon after Elannora….” He trailed off shuddering, clearly feeling fully responsible, and she sighed in turn, cupping his tear-wet cheek in one hand, pushing him back and leaning back herself to force him to look at her.

“Emmrich….” Her tone firmed now, and he blinked, his mouth open into a little surprised o as it always did when she did or said something that took him aback. “You act as if I had nothing to do with it.” She pointed out, a fond smile playing across her lips. “As you once told me, this isn’t something you could have accomplished without my enthusiastic participation.”

“I thought it would be safe, you’re still breastfeeding Elannora, and it has only been a few months….” Emmrich began again, still spiraling, in spite of her attempts to add some levity to the conversation.

“We both thought that.” She countered. “We both thought there was no way I could conceive again, especially not with the illness; you couldn’t have known!”

“I should have known!” He insisted, his voice rising frantically. She shook her head, her hand still pressed firmly against his cheek, catching and holding his gaze, then leaning in to kiss him gently.

“Stop it.” She whispered against his lips. “Stop it, love, you haven’t done anything wrong!” She kissed him again, fiercely, and this time she felt him relax into it and kiss her back. “It will be all right.” She murmured when they came up for air. “We’ll be all right.”

“I will see to it.” He said with the solemnity of a vow.

Chapter Text

When Rook next woke, Emmrich was holding her close in his arms, murmuring softly against her hair.

“My darling, it’s time to wake up.” He told her. “You need to eat, and our friends will wish to hear our news.” She opened her eyes with a sigh, and she felt as much as heard him chuckle. She drew back far enough to look him in the eye, a soft smile coming to her face at what she saw. “I’m all right, darling.” He told her, his voice still soft.

“So am I.” She told him firmly. He hesitated a moment, then nodded, returning her smile. He got her sitting up, and she sipped some water at his urging before going any further. He got her dressed in a loose-fitting gown of soft wool, helped her into her stockings and boots, and then raised her to her feet, drawing her into his embrace once again.

“My beautiful wife….” He whispered into her ear. “My heart and breath….” Her arms wrapped around him in return, low at his waist, her hands grasping and squeezing playfully at his bottom, through his tailored slacks. He chuckled, equal parts startled and amused, reaching down to gently take her wrists, and guiding her hands up to his lower back instead.

“I told you I was feeling better.” She pointed out with a pout.

“Perhaps after you’ve eaten.” He said mock-sternly, trying without success to suppress a groan as she rubbed herself deliberately against him.

“Promise?…” She purred teasingly, and he leaned down to kiss the wicked grin on her face.

“I said perhaps.” He reminded her, but his answering grin gave the lie to his words. “Now come, our friends and our dinner await.” She didn’t argue or delay any further, and he guided her from their shared chamber to the guest wing dining room.

Several of the gathered Veilguards made sounds of pleased surprise when they saw how much better Rook was looking than she had been at breakfast, and several unsubtle glances were sent towards Morrigan, who merely smiled and said nothing. Bellara, in particular, was dividing her look of relief between Rook and Emmrich in equal measure, which reminded Rook of the reference Morrigan had made earlier to Emmrich having to be picked up off the ground after closing a fade rift.

“So, tell me, how did the mission go, Bellara?” Rook asked with deliberate casualness. Bellara blinked in surprise at the question, then proceeded to tell the entire gathering the broad strokes of their morning’s adventure. When they got to the part where the rift snapped shut, and the backlash of power threw Emmrich halfway across the clearing, Rook turned an accusing look on him.

“I’m not certain I was entirely conscious for that part of the proceedings.” He said defensively, and her mouth fell open in horror.

“That doesn’t make it better!” She retorted, and burst into tears. He sighed, drawing her into his arms, ignoring the concerned looks around the table as he lifted her easily into his lap. Once he had her settled, cuddled against his chest, her tears wetting his shirt, he looked up again, to find the others still watching with varying degrees of concern, worry, to outright horror. Only Morrigan and Vorgoth were unaffected, and he was well aware that was because they already knew. Neve, however, was watching with slightly narrowed eyes, a suspicion obviously beginning to grow in her, given her own experience with the mood swings common in early pregnancy.

“Our family continues to grow.” He said it very softly, but he knew that everyone at the table heard him. Neve met his gaze with a nod of satisfaction at having been proven right. The others’ reactions were mixed, with congratulations being given, but accompanied by worried frowns.

“Will she be… okay?…” Taash finally asked the question everyone was thinking, their gaze intense on Rook’s bent head. Emmrich drew in a deep shaky breath.

“She must be!” He whispered, his arms tightening reflexively around Rook. She gave a soft whimper, burrowing in against his chest, and he sighed again, rubbing her back soothingly. “I’ve got you darling….” He whispered. “I’m all right, and you’re going to be fine.” As he continued speaking reassurance into her ear, the others quietly started eating. Eventually Rook quieted again, and Emmrich insisted she have a little bit to eat before letting her fall asleep in his lap, still held securely in his arms. Once he had also eaten his fill, he excused himself to the rest of the company, Rook still cradled tenderly in his arms, and retreated to their bedchamber.

He quickly conjured a spectral hand to turn back the covers on their bed, which had been remade by the servants while they were at dinner, and he bent to lay her down and tuck her in. As he moved to straighten, though, she whimpered in protest, reaching blindly, questing fingers gripping his robes, which he still wore after his excursion with Bellara and Cassandra. He lost his balance as she pulled at his lapels, his knees cracking audibly against the edge of the wooden bedframe, drawing a sharp cry from him, even as his own hands shot out to prevent himself from falling fully on top of her. She came fully awake with a start, blinking up at him in dismay as he sucked in a couple of harsh breaths through his clenched teeth, fighting to subdue his own response to the sudden pain. She scooted quickly over on the bed, making room for him to lie down next to her, and he slumped clumsily to the mattress with a low grunt.

“Are you all right?” She demanded, watching as he awkwardly drew his long legs up onto the bed, hands moving to press to his bony kneecaps, as if that would somehow help ease the pain. “I’m sorry, love.” She said, her brow furrowing in worry, as he remained silent but for his laboured breathing.

“No….” He managed, raising his head to blink at her, the pain on his face shaded with distress that she was taking blame for it upon herself. “Darling….” His hand moved shakily to cup her cheek, and she sighed, pressing it with her own.

“Just take a moment.” She urged him, gently helping him to reposition himself more comfortably, then snuggling in against him, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I’m all right.” He murmured, having regained control of himself as the first shock of pain faded.

“Let me see.” She insisted, beginning to gently disrobe him. First she stripped his robes from his shoulders, letting them fall to the floor behind him. She removed the skull pin from his collar, reaching across him to place it carefully on the bedside table, then she unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt, then moved immediately to the sash that belted his trousers. He shrugged out of both shirt and waistcoat, beginning to relax as she unwound the vivid red cloth, draping it around her own neck before turning her attention to his trousers. He raised his hips obligingly as she stripped them off him, watching as she inspected the fresh bruises that were forming on his abused knees.

Cooing sympathetically she bent to drop feather-light kisses on each bruise, and he caught his breath, taken aback by the surge of desire that rushed through him at the sight of her, her eyes bright and cheeks still flushed from her recent spate of weeping, hair tumbled, and his sash dangling brightly from her pale neck. As she straightened, his sudden burgeoning erection was impossible to miss, scarcely concealed by his smallclothes, and beginning to leak wetness which darkened the fabric around the head. She smiled, meeting his gaze and slowly licking her lips, her eyes hungry on him.

He gave a slightly strangled groan of longing, and her smile widened, then he was dragging her down on top of him, kissing her fiercely, and she was straddling his hips, grinding herself against his hardness, her fingers tangling once more in his hair. His hips bumped up against her, feeling her heat through the intervening layers of clothing, and yearning to feel it against his bare flesh. Giggling, she hiked up her skirts, teasing him further as she rubbed against him, her wetness soaking his undergarments without giving him the skin-to-skin contact that he craved.

“Lilya… please….” His voice was taut with need, and she gave a throaty chuckle, her smile fierce and hungry.

“Please what?” She asked teasingly, letting his swollen cockhead slightly enter her dripping cleft, and his hips jerked sharply beneath her, a harsh gasp tearing from his lips.

“Please, my darling!” He begged, his body beginning to shake as he resisted the urge to impale her then and there. Her smile softened, and she pulled off him, gently peeling his now soaked smallclothes away from his rigid shaft, drawing a shrill whine from him. With no further delay, she rose up above him once again, guiding his straining cock to her entrance and slowly sinking down upon him, engulfing him in her blazing heat and wet. He groaned, his body arching, hips rocking with desperate urgency as she sheathed him completely, and she gazed down at him adoringly as she rode his frantic thrusts. Once she had him inside, she was as ravenous for him as he was for her, and she threw her head back, breasts bouncing, thighs flexing against his hips, a feral grin spreading her lips wide as he gasped and groaned beneath her.

She was panting, grunting, as she took her pleasure, and in a sudden swift movement, she yanked her dress off over her head, flinging it aside carelessly. Her breasts had long since spilled free of her breastband, and as a he watched several droplets of wetness arced from her nipples to rain down on his upturned face. He gave a strangled groan, shuddering violently as his pleasure crested, spewing into her. She felt the sudden eruption of heat and cried out as her own climax followed, the spasms shaking her, drawing a fresh spray of warmth from her swollen nipples. He was still bucking helplessly beneath her, and she rode it out the best she could, hands dropping to brace against his ribs, fingernails digging in a bit, drawing another breathless groan from him.

“Lilya!… My Lilya… my darling!…” He gritted out, his body still arching and jerking, her tight heat almost painful around him, his continued release sending her into a second and even more intense climax of her own.

“Emm… love….” She panted, her voice shrill with tension.

“I… I….” He stammered breathlessly, groping for sense which eluded him. After a seemingly endless moment, their shared passion ran its course, and she slumped down atop him, gasping for breath. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand rubbing gently across the sweat-slicked skin of her back as they both caught their breath. The silence was broken by a fretful whimper from the direction of Elannora’s bassinet, and Rook and Emmrich exchanged a sheepish look as they disentangled themselves. Rook got up, padding across the room naked, and bending to pick up her daughter, who was now fussing in earnest.

“There now, my girl.” She murmured, bringing the wailing babe to her breast, where she latched on immediately. “There now… Mama’s here… Mama’s got you….” She continued to murmur reassuringly as Elannora nursed, glancing over at Emmrich with a soft smile, and finding him watching her hungrily.

Her smile changed, the look in her eyes knowing, as she ran her tongue slowly over her lips, freeing a hand even as she cradled Elannora close, bringing her fingers to her other nipple, which was still glistening with the discharge their coupling had prompted. Her mouth opened in a soundless gasp as she trailed a fingertip through the lingering wetness, tracing it around her puffy nipple, and he groaned, biting his lip to stifle the sound, mindful of the feeding baby. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she watched him watch her, tweaking, pinching and pulling at her exposed nipple. After a few minutes suckling, Elannora had drained one breast and had to be transferred to the other. At that point, Rook turned her focus back to her daughter until she had finished feeding. Emmrich continued to watch, lust being gradually replaced by tenderness as she cared for their child.

Once Rook had returned Elannora, now sleeping deeply again, her hunger sated, to her bassinet, he watched as she silently traced a rune on the edge of the cradle, and he felt the soundless whisper of a ward settling into place. Now their activities would not disturb her rest. Satisfied, she turned back to where Emmrich lay on the bed. He had pulled the coverlet over himself, but now pushed it back again, smiling as she approached. He opened his arms and she crawled in beside him, snuggling against his side. He wasted no time, cupping the breast that Elannora had not drained completely, which was noticeably larger than the other, gently lifting it in the palm of one large hand, and lowering his head to press his lips softly to the swollen aureole. She moaned softly as he encircled her nipple with his tongue, then very gently latched on, beginning to suck slowly at first.

She closed her eyes, letting herself get lost in the sensation as his lips and tongue caressed her sensitive bud, gently drawing the excess milk from her body, and swallowing it hungrily. His long fingers gently stroked her heavy breast, causing her to shiver, another moan of bliss floating from her lips. He continued to suckle until he’d drained her breast, and he let the puckered nipple pop from his lips with a sigh of deep satisfaction. His smile was languorous as he gazed at her with the same utter adoration she knew was reflected on her own face.

“Utterly delectable, my precious girl.” He murmured, leaning in to take her mouth in a deep and tender kiss. “I would say motherhood suits you.” He added, a hint of humour entering his tone. “I eagerly await the sight of you beginning to swell once more with the life inside you.” She blushed a little at his words, but there was no doubting his sincerity as his gaze traced her form hungrily.

“You like me plump to bursting with your seed.” She teased, startling him into a moment’s blushing stammer, until he caught sight of her wicked grin.

“I do.” He responded frankly. “You are always beautiful, my darling, but never more so than when your belly is swollen with our child, carried beneath your heart.” His big hand came to rest on the soft skin of her flat belly, stroking softly. “My perfect and beautiful darling….” He murmured, his voice warm as he continued to touch her, his hands moving over her slow and tender, observing how her eyelids grew heavy as he did so. He continued lavishing her with his touch and praise as she drifted into sleep before settling down at her side, wrapping his arms around her and closing his own eyes.