Work Text:
I'm a fly that is trapped in a web
But I'm thinking that my spider's dead
Lonely, lonely little life
I could kid myself in thinking that I'm fine
It was always you falling for me
Now there's always time calling for me
I'm the light blinking at the end of the road
Blink back to let me know
The waking world reels Emmrich in from his dreams slowly. Rays of sunlight peer through the set of billowing curtains around the nearby window. One of them must have left it open. A gentle breeze filters through, carrying the sounds of the outside world with it. The distant chitter of insects and the energetic chirps of birds. Nowadays he falls asleep with his arms around Laurent, chin tucked into the younger man's shoulder. Today is no different.
Except—he can faintly sense a fast approaching presence. From the way Laurent begins to stir from his slumber, he senses it too. A moment later the door to their bedroom bursts open and in tumbles a trio of troublemakers. The first is their daughter Willow, her dark locks catch the light as she bounces from foot to foot. The two braids in her hair are frizzy and nearly dissolved from a night of restlessly shifting and early morning playtime. The fringe of her blunt bangs sticks up haphazardly. The second is their son Percival (though he makes a show of retching anytime he isn't referred to as Percy) with equally messy hair that's—
"Percival what on earth has happened to your head?" Sleep is coating his tone more than emotion—there's a rasp to it from lack of use.
"It's pink!" He announces with his hands in the air at an angle like he's presenting something on stage. Emmrich's face is frozen in an expression caught between scandal and concern. He can't decide which is more pressing.
The third culprit is Pip, a griffin born from Assan 's herd and a direct relative. He's still something of a baby, standing at the same height as their 9 and 10 year olds.
"I can see that." He says evenly, trying to process what sort of concoction they must have come up with to turn his son's hair to a shade of pink normally found in a sunset.
"Doesn't it look great?" Willow says, beaming with pride.
Percy bounces from foot to foot, his expression one of pure glee.
"My darlings, how exactly did you manage such a…" Even half asleep Rook can hear the older man struggling to find a kind way to say what he meant. "Marvelous feat?"
By now Laurent had finally roused himself from sleep. He lifts his head to swivel it toward the conversation. Blurry-eyed and half conscious he says, "What about feet?"
"Dearest, excellent timing. Look, our son's hair is pink."
Once again the small boy lifts his arms above his head, and his sister mimics the movement. Not to be left out, Pip attempts to do the same—gesturing with one wing (and nearly knocking over several decorations on the walls) and his small beak toward the boy.
"Pink?" Laurent yawns, rubbing his eyes. "How?"
"We were just discussing that."
"Oh." Another yawn. "Good, good."
A long suffering sigh, one that only Emmrich could muster. "You're not comprehending a word of this are you?"
The older man pets the back of Laurent's head with a look of sympathy. Poor thing. Always struggling to fight the onset of grogginess in the mornings.
"Percival, come here won't you?" At the sour look the young boy gives him Emmrich (reluctantly) amends, "My apologies, Percy, will you come over here so I can get a better view of your hair?"
Percy practically frolics across the room, but Willow decides she'd rather take a short cut and instead leaps onto the middle of the bed. She lands on Laurent who groans at the sudden new weight. This makes Percy giggle, but Emmrich manages to keep him in place with two gentle hands on either side of his tiny head. Pip saunters over to assist with the inspection, sniffing the pink strands curiously.
"Were the two of you playing around in my office perhaps?" There's always been an undercurrent of authority in Emmrich's tone, but in the moment the tone is distinctly paternal and it makes something in Laurent's chest flutter.
The twins exchange a look–a sort of silent formal agreement to not rat each other out. The show of solidarity is just as endearing as it is frustrating. Emmrich is glad they have each other though.
Pip chirps excitedly. Laurent is in the midst of wrangling Willow into a spot that is not crushing his diaphragm when he says, "Looks like your scout is turning on you two. Might as well fess up now before we have to bring out the big guns."
With a touch of theatrics Emmrich sighs loudly and sucks in a breath. "Oh my the big guns? That sounds awfully serious."
Willow gives her fathers a skeptical look but Percy seems immediately cowed by the "threat". Just to add to the weight of it Laurent stretches his arms over his head, deliberately wiggling his fingers. "You know sometimes I can't control it. Sometimes The Claw does what it wants–ah!"
And thus began the show of Laurent pretending to lose control of his right hand. First he mimed clawing his own face, then his chest, then caught Willow and began tickling her. Pip began prancing in place, delighted by the laughter, pleasant chirps mixed in with the child's laughter.
Soon Emmrich cries out, "Save yourself Percy!"
But nobody was safe. It was a ghastly scene of squeals and shrieks. They were chased about the house until each of them were tickled and kisses were placed on their cheeks, noses, and foreheads.
The twins have adoring parents, and it's something they've taken to bragging about at school. So much so that they sometimes find themselves in trouble. Sitting in the dean's office is a familiar practice for Emmrich at this point in time. His children are gifted with great intelligence, but are also frightfully rambunctious.
His husband often travels to other regions during the day, meaning it often falls to Emmrich when the children cause a scene at school. At this rate he might as well rent out an office suite at the school. He simply couldn't stay away, but he wouldn't have it any other way. He'd rather be the first to arrive on the scene when the children caused trouble.
"If I'm to understand you correctly, the children have stuck several of their classmates to the ceiling by a clever use of alchemy?"
"Er. Well I didn't say clever per se, but yes. That's what they've done."
"Did they happen to disclose the formula of the mixture they used?"
The principal looks a bit taken aback by Emmrich's lack of concern. This is a balding man with a face pinched in a permanent state of displeased confusion and he is the third in a line of principals that Emmrich has met. There was no tangible proof that the children encouraged a changeup to the staff lineup but it was difficult to deny.
"No, Professor Volkarin I'm sorry but it seems as though you are not fully comprehending what your children have done. They glued their classmates to the ceiling!"
Emmrich blinks at the man several times, owlish and just as discerning as the bird. "I comprehended you perfectly. No one was injured I presume, and considering the authorities weren't notified it couldn't have been that much property damage. We'll cover the costs of anything damaged during their little prank. I think a week of detention ought to sort them out, and then…" He tapped his lips as he sank into thought. "Ah! Some community service for the next month, I'll arrange that part so no need to fret."
The principal stammers out something between a question and a wheeze. The air shudders out of him like some dusty old accordion. "I–wha? I'm sorry?"
With that matter settled (in Emmrich's mind at least) he tapped the other man's desk with the palm of his hand and stood up. "This was a very productive conversation. Thank you for notifying me of this development."
As a father Emmrich is ever present. Some call it "helicopter"ing but he likes to think of it more as acting as a safety net. After all, nobody could predict the future. Something could happen quite suddenly and a person could be gone. Just like that. Firefly lights in the dusk.
For Emmrich the precursor to such thoughts was the abrupt passing of his own parents. One day they were there and the next he was having to make arrangements for himself.
He'd taken what they'd left behind and had to find places for it. Solving a puzzle he hadn't been prepared for. Their possessions were distributed according to their wishes. The two most difficult pieces to place were "the home" and "the son left behind". How was he meant to find where his place was? At the time he'd been so young he wasn't sure. The Mourn Watchers eventually stepped in and he'd found purpose within their ranks, but in the beginning it felt as though the fabric of his life had been torn open. A gnarly gash in the place his parents used to be. If his life were a tapestry it would have certainly donned a few patches by now. Spots where things didn't quite work out and he'd had to make do.
Initially when the subject of children arose he felt mixed. He'd been a mentor for many years but this was a different type of responsibility. This was not just helping a student discover the majesty of necromancy. This was not researching for a thesis. This was shaping a life after your own image. This was encouraging a piece of you to embark on their own journey.
Sometimes he had trouble letting go.
Which is why it was good that he had Laurent to balance him out.
Laurent's childhood was something of an awe inspiring tale to Emmrich. An unknown father, a sickly mother who passed too soon, leaving him to the whims of the brothel he grew up in. They'd treated him as a funny little sidekick. A pet they weren't entirely sure how to care for, but he'd persevered. He found purpose and by the time Varric came across him he'd been a boy of 15. Varric was a man of vision, a storyteller.
He knew the marks of a hero's journey and Emmrich is forever thankful that the man acted as Laurent's mentor. After that the rest of the tale followed the structure of many other heroic tales; a feat of tests, a new set of allies and foes, the approach of one's greatest fears, the ordeal, the road back, rebirth, the return, and finally, the freedom to live.
He'd have to tell Laurent about his plan for the children for the next month, but when he stepped out into the fields behind their home he came upon a scene so heartwarming he didn't dare taint it with the news.
Pip lay flat on his belly, wings folded around Laurent and the children, while the love of his life leaned his weight back against the griffin. Pip appeared to be dozing but his ears shifted as Emmrich approached with a warm smile. Percy seemed to be toying with the gifted jewelry Laurent wore, and Willow was busy stroking the ruffles of Pip's feathers.
"Aha! You're home." Laurent drops his head back on the creature behind him so he can peer up at Emmrich through a long set of lashes and Emmrich can't stop himself from carding a hair through those copper curls he's come to love just as dearly as the man attached to them.
"Welcome home!" The twins greet him with a pair of toothy grins.
"Yes." Emmrich says, his heart filling with warmth. "I'm home."