Chapter Text
Watching Emmrich with Manfred made something in Lucanis’ chest resonate. An empty, dull piece of him full of cobwebs waking from its slumber whenever the necromancer smiled at the skeleton, his eyes so proud at every accomplishment, no matter how small it was. It made him irritated, frustrated.
He was ashamed of the childish reason why.
Manfred got praised for managing to properly annunciate “do not”. When Lucanis was young, he got a hum of acknowledgment when he completed a contract so difficult it was bordering on a suicide mission.
Manfred got to study books on magic under Emmrich’s watchful eye. Lucanis endured months upon months of Crow inflicted torture to be able to withstand anything and everything if he ever got caught. It paid off. The Ossuary didn’t break him. The cracks it left were manageable.
Manfred got to serve Emmrich and his friends tea. Lucanis watched a small elven girl, who looked barely fourteen, slit her throat in the middle of a Crow training room when she was told she will specialize in seduction. The second her body left the room it was as if she never existed. Another slave with no family, no friends. No one to remember her. The only function her life served was in his memory, the idea of her a placeholder for his childhood. Another role she had no say in.
She was not the only one. There were hundreds of nameless children lost to blades and cruelty. Morals lost to tradition. Just because his house did not buy slaves didn’t mean they were innocent. They all trained their soldiers under the same doctrine – disposable until proven useful.
Realizing why he was jealous of Manfred took him weeks to figure out. To put a finger on what that stupid, itching feeling was. It was not about Emmrich’s attention, the older man was very peculiar on dividing it equally between his lover and his apprentice. No, it was the way Manfred was raised.
With love. Care. Something unconditional when Emmrich threw away the prospect of immortality for him. Lucanis couldn’t even get an ornamental dagger when he was young, and Manfred got someone to sacrifice their dreams for him.
And the worst part was, he had no right to complain. At the end of the day, he was under Caterina’s protection. Untouchable. Mistakes others got killed for on the spot got him a scar or two, just so he never repeats it. While others spent their nights in the barracks, in cluttered rooms with too many people, he came home to a villa, with no need to fight for scraps.
It was not his place to feel any kind of way about it. He was ashamed he had to fight to keep his face neutral when Emmrich just sighed and hid a little smile behind his hand as Manfred burnt the bottom of the necromancer’s robes.
Ignoring it all didn’t mean it did not bring up things he tried very hard to keep buried.
“No, I don’t think that’s quite possible. Maybe if they possessed some remnants of will, but it is still highly unlikely.” Lucanis tuned out Emmrich’s conversation with Spite ages ago, the necromancer’s long, unexpectedly calloused fingers gently combing through his hair as they laid on a blanket, surrounded by pillows. Strategically preventing the Crow from getting up to try and do more work. He was so tired, sleepless night after sleepless night taking its toll on him.
“How would they even accomplish such a feat? Why would they even want to possess a fingernail?” His eyelids close, he was not needed for this conversation. The soothing touch and familiar voices rambling in the background made not falling asleep impossible.
---
Someone was screaming, and he didn’t know who. A blurry face in his line of sight. Its mouth open, bloody, empty. There were thousands of teeth on the ground and in the middle of it all, a small circle and an even smaller person in the middle of it. The smell of iron in the air. More teeth. Hills. Mountains. A figure at the edge of his vision. Old. Static. Watching it all. Judging his every move.
He looked down, disembodied hands without a body. Red. Crimson. His fingernails, hanging from his fingers by a thread. Bloody stubs reaching towards something. Someone. More screaming. More yelling. Begging. Pleading. Don’t do this.
---
Lucanis woke up alone, on the ground surrounded by pillows. His breathing was short. Irregular. Wrong. This was getting out of hand.
Was his conscience waking up after years of hibernation? He thought he was over this shit. Having free time to dwell on the past proved him wrong.
“Dearest?” Lucanis’ instinctively looked for the source of the sound, his hand reaching for a dagger he didn’t have on him. Right. He was not in his room. The smell of old books combined with herbs and flowers filled his nostrils seconds before he saw Emmrich.
“Mierda. Sorry. I should, go.” Even Spite was quiet for once as he scrambled up and tried to leave the room.
“Nonsense, my love. I was only worried what might happen should you wake up from a nightmare next to someone.” That stupid, meddling, thoughtful man. Emmrich was blocking the door, looking down at him with so much care it made him feel sick.
“I’m fine.” And that statement sounded fake even to his own ears. He didn’t meet the necromancer’s eyes as he slipped past him. He did what he did best. He ran.
---
“Dearest, something is troubling you.”
“No. I’m fine, it’s nothing you need to worry about.”
---
“Dear?”
Pulling Emmrich down by his collar always served as the perfect distraction.
---
“Lucanis?”
“Rook wanted to talk to me, I am sorry.”
---
He was absolutely, definitely, not avoiding Emmrich. There was just a lot of stuff needed to be done when you’re the First Talon. Like taking every contract available in Treviso in an attempt to repress memories that refused to stay buried. Or teaching Spite Wicked Grace. Or paperwork. Anything but talking about his issues.
Treviso was safe from meddling, good meaning necromancers. Or so he thought. Until he heard the telltale sound of rattling bones and hissing. Mierda.
He opened the door before Manfred had the time to knock, if someone found a walking, talking skeleton in the hallways, there was no telling what they would do. And Emmrich would be heartbroken if something happened to his apprentice.
“Lucanis! Lucanis!” The Crow froze, he did not know Manfred could say his name. He promptly ignored the warmth spreading through his chest.
“Yes?”
“Lucanis!”
“Is Emmrich all right?” The realization that the skeleton being here alone could mean something bad happening to the necromancer hit him like a ton of bricks.
“No! Sad! Talk!” He could really use a Manfred dictionary. The spirit was doing great with his progress, but Lucanis still failed to grasp what he meant most of the time.
“Did something happen to Emmrich? To someone at the Lighthouse?”
“Talk! Talk! Talk! Talk!” The skeleton was tugging at his hand and Lucanis was at a loss for words. He threw a long coat over Manfred, covering his features, before he let him lead him outside, in the direction of the marketplace, and a very distressed necromancer.
Emmrich’s face relaxed the second his eyes landed on Manfred.
“Manfred! What did I tell you about wandering off without informing me about it? What if something happened to you?” The necromancer put his hands on Manfred’s shoulders, checking him for any injuries. When he was satisfied, he finally noticed who the skeleton brought with him.
“Lucanis! I deeply apologize for this. I turned around for a second to look at the spices and Manfred took it as an opportunity to wander off. Thank you for bringing him back, I know you have your hands full. I did not mean to trouble you like this.” There was guilt in Emmrich’s voice and looking at him, Lucanis noticed the dark circles, the exhaustion etched deep in the wrinkles of his face. A telltale sign of worry.
“Emmrich, did something happen?”
“Oh? Everything is in order, Lucanis. It is my turn to do the grocery shopping, you see. The kitchen has been suffering without your presence.” The repeated absence of a pet name pulled at his heart. Something told Lucanis it was not just the kitchen that was missing him.
Mierda. He was being selfish, his avoidance not solving anything, only causing problems for others. For Emmrich. Lucanis steeled himself for what he needed to say.
“Emmrich, can we talk?” The necromancer hid a flinch and the guilt in Lucanis intensified by tenfold.
“Of course, shall we go back to the Lighthouse?” The Crow noticed the way Emmrich nervously put his hands inside his robes, hiding his trembling fingers. Their journey back was eerily quiet.
---
Manfred wondered off the moment they stepped through the Eluvian, and Lucanis wordlessly nodded towards the library that Emmrich claimed as his own.
“I apologize for being overbearing, Lucanis.” Emmrich said as he sat down on the stone altar, his fingers anxiously holding its edge. “I fully understand if you need space from me, from Manfred. I noticed you were uncomfortable, and I should’ve asked about it sooner.”
Lucanis stood frozen in the doorway, his brain catching up with Emmrich’s words.
“Wait, did you think I wanted to end our relationship?” Emmrich tilted his head at the words, confusion apparent in the way he held himself.
“I assumed so? I know you are not the most willing when it comes to talking about things that bother you. But when you so abruptly left the Lighthouse, I thought you wanted a break from this. From me. It’s understandable, I know I am-“
“Mierda. No. Stop. Do not finish that sentence.” Lucanis finally managed to get his body under control as he walked over to Emmrich, sitting down next to him and taking his hand into his own. The contrast of his shorter, darker fingers against Emmrich’s pale skin fascinated him.
“Then what happened, Lucanis?” The Crow never cringed at the sound of his name before.
“I’ve been dealing with some stuff. Not concerning you, but myself. The Crows.” Maker. Killing a god was easier than talking about his feelings.
“Oh, all right. If you need to talk about it…” It was so unusual to hear the other sound so unsure. Emmrich’s voice always boomed through a room, unending confidence in the way he held himself.
Lucanis had to do this, he might not deserve Emmrich, but he was selfish. He did not want to let him go, whatever it took.
“Growing up with the Crows has been, difficult. And watching you with Manfred has been enlightening. In good and bad ways.” Emmrich’s hand squeezed his and despite everything, a small smile sneaked onto Lucanis’ face.
“It made me remember what I lost. What I never had. The Crow training is ruthless, and some things are simply wrong about it. Torture. Abuse. Bad living conditions. Slavery.” He felt Emmrich tense at the mention of the last thing.
“House Dellamorte does not partake in that part, we never buy slaves to train them into assassins. All our recruits come to us, but not all the houses have the same morals. I’ve been trying to figure out how to fix it, but I’ve had no luck. How do you train someone to withstand torture another way?” Lucanis sighed, experimentally leaning his body into Emmrich, who wordlessly put his arm around the Crow’s shoulders.
“Dearest, sometimes you can not fix everything, and most definitely not at once. How about you start small? You are the First Talon, your word holds weight, right? And I am quite sure most of the Crows are not particularly fond of the slavery part.” Lucanis felt himself relax into Emmrich’s side, his head clear for the first time in days.
“How about you invest in better sleeping quarters, and propose a suggestion about forbidding slavery as means to getting more recruits? Steps like that could prompt more change in the future, originating from others, not just you.” And thinking about it, Emmrich was right. Maybe he did not need to change everything about the Crows all at once, maybe starting is enough for now.
Lucanis turned towards the other, finally meeting Emmrich’s eyes. They were full of love and care and Lucanis cursed himself for almost losing this.
“I am sorry, Emmrich.” The other smiled at him, his hand cupping Lucanis’ face.
“My dear, you know I could not be angry at you about this. Although I would prefer you told me what the problems are about, if you don’t wish to discuss them next time.” His fingers stroked the Crow’s cheek, and he leaned into the touch, pressing a kiss into Emmrich’s palm. It was only a small move from there to pull him down into a gentle kiss, his arms going around Emmrich’s shoulders.
---
“Dearest! Have you seen Manfre-“ Emmrich’s eyes widened at the scene of him. He was finishing up a project in his study when he noticed his trusted apprentice missing from his side. He had no reason to worry, as Manfred was very clearly occupied.
“Emmrich! Emmrich! Cook!” The skeleton was covered head to toe in flour, but visibly happy about helping Lucanis make lunch for their band of misfits.
“Manfred insisted on helping, and his presence keeps Spite calm.” There was an apological smile on Lucanis’ face as he leaned back, looking at the mess everywhere around him.
“Cook!” Manfred threw his hands up, scattering flour with every little move. The necromancer just shook his head as he walked over, wrapping his arm around Lucanis and pressing his lips against his hair.
He never expected to have a normal family. But maybe an assassin, a demon and a spirit inhabiting a skeleton were close enough.