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It was obvious something was going on between them.
Well, it was obvious to the expert detective who had been featured in the Tevinter Times on five separate occasions in her career, at least.
She’d begin to see the signs almost immediately after the team had recruited the stately necromancer. Rook had been seen hovering outside the hall to his room at strange hours; Neve noticed a sudden and quite odd interest in the undead from the career assassin; there was never a reason why Emmrich’s unique set of skills wouldn’t be pertinent on an outing...
But it became indisputable when she kept catching out of the corner of her eye Emmrich’s soft gaze studying Rook anytime they sat near each other, eyes roaming dreamily over the curve of nose, cheeks, jaw, like she was something of marble in one of the Necropolis’ memorial gardens. It was also evident in Rook’s sheepishly returned smile that belied the straightforward, down to business elf she’d come to know over the weeks.
She knew those looks well. Maker , she’d given and received those looks before. Not for a long while now—Dock Town made sure of that—but once upon a time, in a simpler life.
The days passed and the glances became shared; as did the subtle touches here and there, and the extra concern after a skirmish. Most recently, for two nights in a row, they found themselves excused from dinner one right after the other and seemed to disappear for the rest of the night. Neve had looked around the table to share a knowing look, but to her surprise, the conversation went on, blissfully unaware.
So it seemed.
Neve was certain she wasn’t the only one to begin pulling at this thread, and she decided it was time to start an investigation of her own into the matter. Because if there was one thing she couldn’t abide, it was a mystery. Or untold gossip.
The first one she needled about it was Lucanis. Surely the trained-from-birth assassin would notice an odd change in behavior or two.
After dinner, as soon as dish duty was finished, she found him in the pantry with his nose in a demitasse. He lifted it only long enough to answer her question.
“ Mierda . Is that why they have been slipping off after dinner so quickly? As soon as Emmrich clears his plate, Rook discards whatever is left on hers and follows.”
“You didn’t think that meant anything?”
“As long as people are not trying to kill me, or I am not trying to kill them, what I think is not important.”
Neve gave him a look, mouth quirked to the side, eyebrows raised.
Lucanis remained stoic before sighing and looking to the side for a moment. “Spite says he has been wondering when you were going to bring this up.”
“Oh, yeah?” Neve egged on. “Well, what does he think of all this?”
“It is better not to ask,” he smirked. “ I think Rook is wasting a lot of good pasta this way.”
She smiled at the last statement, and decided to change the topic of conversation to dinner. And how good it was. And what was on the menu for tomorrow.
After a few minutes, Lucanis silently poured a second cup of coffee and handed it to her.
Bellara was the next, but through no scheming of Neve’s. It was simple luck that landed the conversation in their laps.
It was after a particularly daring escapade in Arlathan; Davrin and Harding stumbled through the Eluvian exhausted, but intact. Rook, too, but with the slight caveat of a sizable gash through her armor, a bit of red peaking out. Nothing serious; Neve herself had sustained worse solving easier cases on the streets of Minrathous. Nevertheless, as they rounded the corner into the library where Emmrich, Bellara and herself sat with some tea and coffee, Emmrich stood up from his chair as soon as he spied the blood. Without much warning, their tea and books were ended in favor of “taking a close look at that or it will scar,” and leading Rook up to his laboratory for closer examination.
“There’s some meat for your serials right there.”
“Right! Oh... No. What do you mean?”
“Look at them, Bel. That wound is more a matter of stitching armor than skin. but look how he’s holding her. The overly careful reaction? How soft it all is?”
Bellara watched them out of the corner of her eye as they ascended, quiet whispers exchanged, Emmrich’s hand cradling Rook’s wounded arm like a full tea cup he was afraid of spilling.
“You’ve seen Rook shake off worse. But this requires immediate attention?”
Bellara froze, processing. And then her eyes went wide and a bit of color rose to her cheeks.
“Oh! You mean like how in Death by Blood Mages when the magister and the knight-captain got attacked by blood mages on that one case and she had to take his armor off to—Oh.”
Bellara’s eyes darted between Neve and the top of the stairs where Emmrich and Rook had disappeared.
“Oh, yes! I have to write this down!”
Neve watched her half bounce, half jog to fetch her pen and paper and sipped her coffee. Augh, cold . Perhaps Lucanis had prepared a fresh cup.
When Neve approached Harding with coffee and tried to subtly approach the topic to see what things she had noticed, she wasted no time.
“Oh, thank the Maker, someone else noticed it too. I thought I was going crazy. They can’t be, can they?”
Neve raised her eyebrows at the dwarf. She was always surprised how repressed and formal Ferelden sentiments tended to be around romance.
“Why not? I’m more surprised they’ve been as subtle about it as they have been. And that they’ve found the time for all the fuss, honestly.”
They were standing in the courtyard outside Harding’s now-jungle. Rook and Emmrich stood on the second story walkway looking out at the view. Emmrich moved a hand animatedly, also using his staff as a tool as he explained something with much focus in his eyes. Rook leaned on the railing, gaze stuck to the necromancer’s face, clearly not hearing a word he was saying.
“Do you know... is Rook... don’t you think she’s a little young?”
“Oh, I don’t know... there’s a popular saying in Tevinter, ‘amor invenitur ubicumque sunt animarum’,” she glanced sidelong at Harding who raised her brow. “It means love can be found anywhere”
“Oh, well... oh my...”
She followed Harding’s eyeline up. Rook had slid a hand up on Emmrich’s arm, pulling him in closer; Emmrich’s hands had stilled in their explanation and his eyes grew soft. Neve felt her own heart flutter a bit as they seemed to be on a collision course for one another before Manfred appeared behind them with a tome in his hands. Emmrich happily took it from the skeleton, seeming to pick up the lecture where he’d left off. Rook shook her head and hid a pout as she looked back out at the view.
“Well, would you look at that.” Neve chuckled.
“Huh. Yeah. Um... thank you very much for the thought, but I don’t think I like coffee very much.” Harding handed the cup back to her.
Lucanis wouldn’t be happy if she wasted some of his precious Andoral’s Breath roast. She figured she’d take it back to him.
It was at dinner again and Neve was positive they had just forgotten there were other people around. Emmrich hardly touched his cacio e pepe —very unlike him, Neve had come to learn that he routinely cleared his plate—and instead he rested his chin on the back of his hand, still gripping his fork as if promising that he would dig in, just as soon as Rook finished her story. She’d never seen his eyes so absorbed, enthralled, and utterly rapt, on anything but an autopsy. Or perhaps Manfred. When Rook reached a particularly harrowing part of her tale—a contract on a corrupt Antivan merchant prince that had gone utterly sideways, landing Rook dangling from a balcony above a 40-foot drop to the canal below—Emmrich reached a hand out in suspense. Neve caught the frightened, “oh, my darling” he muttered as she finished the story. It was a good ending—something out of a serial—Rook falling, shooting a bolt of lightning up at the merchant prince, and timing her fall to land on a passing gondola. But hardly worthy of the concern his hand placed on her arm called for.
Next to her, Davrin rolled his eyes.
“You don’t believe the story?” Neve poked at the Grey Warden.
He chuckled. “It’s not that. I’m just wondering when those two are going to get a room. Or a crypt, I guess.”
“Ah, you’ve noticed it, too,” Neve smiled, keeping her voice low.
Davrin looked at her knowingly. “Assan has noticed, at this point. Besides, Emmrich might as well have told everyone, he talks to Manfred about Rook enough.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. Walk by his room sometime. ‘Oh, Manfred, do you think Rook would like this tome about historical assassination methods? Manfred, fetch Rook, please. Did you notice how Rook’s wound is healing? Perhaps it needs to be examined again.’ ”
Neve looked up the table at them, hoping they wouldn’t hear the conversation. She needn’t have worried; they were still enveloped in each other’s gaze. Rook’s hand had found Emmrich’s and was laid gently atop it, neither aware of Lucanis clearing their mostly full plates.
“And here comes the making eyes portion of the evening...”
Davrin’s voice droned out as Lucanis’ hand came down to pick up her plate, asking, “Finished, Neve?”
She looked up at him. “I could go for some dessert.”
“Let me guess, you’re in the mood for gooseberry pie and coffee?”
“How did you know?” Neve smiled.
“Because you’re always in the mood for gooseberry pie and coffee,” he smirked at her. “I have already made it.”
Davrin, having realized Neve was no longer listening, rolled his eyes again, shaking his head at Assan who gave him a confused squawk. “Come on, boy. I know you’ll listen to me. Unless there’s truffles around.”
Neve was surprised to see Taash visiting her office.
“What can I do for you, Taash?” She asked, as if they were a client who had come in with a job.
“You seem like the kind of person who would have those good smelling candles,” they said matter-of-factly.
“I suppose I’m to take that as a compliment?” Conversing with Taash was sometimes a mini-case of its own; they had a propensity to only give information absolutely necessary, and this request was certainly a thinker.
“Well, yeah,” Taash said like it was obvious. “You have all those pretty dresses and nice little decorations in here. Girls like that always have those kinds of things.”
“What do you need candles for? Doing some reading?” Neve inquired. She opened a drawer. “And do they have to be scented?”
Taash sighed. “No. And yes . It’s important they’re the smell-good ones.”
“Okay, no reading... writing?” She continued to rummage in the drawer. She had no candles. But the Qunari didn’t know that.
Taash huffed. “No.”
Neve raised an eyebrow. “Assan again?”
They groaned. “Rook and Emmrich are in the library. They’ve been there for hours. I can smell them.”
She hesitated, ceasing her rummaging. “I’m still not seeing how candles fit into this.”
“I have a really good sense of smell. Like really good ,” Taash finally began. “It’s an adaari thing.”
She just looked at them, waiting for the explanation.
“They really want to have sex. I can smell that.”
Oh. Neve couldn’t say that’s what she expected.
“I’d like to not smell it. So... candles.”
“I, ah, think Lucanis might have some that are scented,” Neve shut her drawer. “He likes that kind of thing.”
Taash quirked an eyebrow and huffed a chuckle. “Really? I didn’t think he’d be into that stuff.”
“Yes, it surprised me too, but... I think it’s charming,” she offered, sitting back in her chair.
They grunted and turned on their heels to leave, but stopped short of the door; Neve could swear they gave a sniff.
“Are you and Lucanis...”
She nearly spit out her coffee. “No.”
“Okay... whatever you say,” Taash said, finally walking out the door.
Where had that come from? Neve wondered.
She thought the note had looked a little too suspicious, and it was confirmed as soon as she walked into the dining room.
Lucanis stood in the kitchen, a towel thrown over his shoulder as he put the finishing touches on a meal much smaller than he usually made to feed the whole of the Lighthouse. The table was set with two plates, two bowls, two candles and two wine glasses, along with what she thought to be a very nice bottle neatly displayed.
“Ah, finally,” he began without looking up. “Everything is—Neve.”
“Lucanis...” She raised a brow.
“This is—ah, Rook asked me if I could prepare a meal for her and Emmrich, but they are very late... and now I am wondering if this whole thing was a trap.”
“A trap?” Neve echoed. “Am I the fool caught in it then?”
Lucanis started and then stopped and then started again. “I, uh—no. Why are you here?”
Neve flashed the note that she had found stuck to her door. “Some important meeting in the dining room, it turns out. Would hate for you to miss it.”
Lucanis hummed. “Rook.”
“Rook, indeed.”
Before Lucanis could respond, the door swung open. Neve nearly held her breath, hoping that she wouldn’t be proven wrong; whatever was on the stove smelled delightful and the fireplace’s lighting was doing Lucanis quite a few favors. To both their confusion, Manfred shuffled into the room. As soon as he saw Neve, he presented a note written on bone-yellow stationary with little embossed gold filigree at the top.
“Thanks, Fred,” she said, unfolding the note as he shuffled back out.
Lucanis rounded the table and read it over her shoulder, arms crossed.
“Grandest apologies, Lucanis. We are not able to make it to dinner tonight. Please avail yourself of the, no doubt, delectable meal and dessert you have prepared and allow us to recoup the cost of groceries.”
“You said Rook, this is Emmrich’s stationary,” Lucanis took the note from her.
“I bet you ten gold it was Rook’s idea,” she laughed, walking over to the table. “They’re in on it together. She provides the idea, he provides the stationary. Partners in crime.”
“Alright, I will bite,” Lucanis pulled the chair out for her as she sat down and ran to fetch the food from the kitchen. “What is going on between those two?”
“Well, here’s all the clues I’ve gathered so far...”