Archive of Our Own

In many ways, it was a day like any other. The sun shone as brightly as it ever did in the Fade, in this tucked away corner of serenity, courtesy of Solas. To think Fen'harel's Lighthouse had become their refuge. How mysterious the twists and turns of destiny.

Emmrich stood on the balcony overlooking the courtyard in front of the lighthouse proper, watching Rook and Davrin engage in a battle to the death. Inasmuch as they ever did. It was a bout of friendly sparring, but between the two of them, it might as well be a matter of life and death. Assan soared through the air above, crying out his support, or disapproval, as the case may be.

Regardless, Rook was fierce. And beautiful as a force of nature, and Emmrich stood watching from afar. As he was wont to do.

Before long, the familiar cadence of Lucanis's footsteps came up the curved staircase, to join Emmrich in his spectating.

"Ah! Emmrich." Lucanis graced him with a smile tinged with apprehension. "Just the man I was looking for. Do you… have a moment?"

"Certainly, my friend," said Emmrich, happy for the company.

"I was wondering…" Lucanis hesitated, coming to a stop by the banister. He looked down at the spectacle, to Rook's enthusiastic war cries. "What would you do, to show someone you are interested in them? As in, something different than a friend?"

Emmrich's heart sank despite his best intentions. Lucanis was obviously talking about Rook, his fellow Crow, and the most capable, the most …beautiful man he'd ever seen. They would make such a handsome couple. How good for them that they were finally making progress.

"Hypothetically speaking?"

"Yes," said Lucanis. "Hypothetically speaking."

"Mn." Emmrich smiled softly, looking out over the sparring friends. Rook was swift and elegant, a dancer's physique next to Davrin's more overtly muscular form. The rogue and the fighter, showing off for each other. "I always consider the person I'm courting, but ultimately I am drawn to the classical approach. A pot of something hot and comforting to chat over. Tea or coffee, for instance. A stroll through breathtaking scenery. Dinner, perhaps, once one is bold enough to suggest such a thing."

Lucanis turned around, leaning his elbows onto the edge of the banister. "Flowers?"

FLOWERS, Spite exclaimed from behind Emmrich's ear. FLOWERS BURN PRETTY

"Yes, Spite, thank you, but I prefer them unzinged." Emmrich shrugged, pressing his fingertips together. "If the object of your admiration appreciates them, absolutely. But I suppose I am biased, I've always had a love of flowers."

"Hm…" Lucanis made a face at Spite's badgering narrative of FLOWERS! I WANT FLOWERS!! NOBODY GIVES ME FLOWERS, crossed his ankles, twiddling his thumbs, considering Emmrich's words. "So… you would suggest one keeps it simple? Not too complicated?"

"Quite." Wistfulness had a way of creeping up on him when least expected. He'd always enjoyed the art of courtship, though he'd never been blessed with a love that lasts. "Love is complicated enough at the best of times, fraught with miscommunication and… dreams that don't correspond to those of your beloved. It's better to be genuine, than too elaborate."

ELABORATE? MUCH FUSS, ALL THE FRILLS. BAUBLES. PRETTY, EMPTY THINGS TO CRUSH.

Another frown crossed Lucanis's features. "Thank you, Emmrich. You've given me much to think about."

"Spite as well, I imagine. It's good to make an effort, Spite. Just don't go overboard." He inclined his head. "And… for what it's worth? I think your attempt to woo someone with a dagger was very genuine. Just elaborate enough."

"Oh?" His eyebrows arched in clear surprise. "I didn't think you'd remember. I barely recall mentioning it."

"I'm the consummate romantic, my friend." He patted Lucanis's arm, aiming for encouraging. "I never forget a gesture like that. With the right recipient, I've no doubt such a gift would have been well-received." He let his gaze fall on Rook in a pointed sort of way, to let Lucanis know he had an inkling.

"Well. Perhaps you are right. No, you are right, a gift is just as much about who gives it as who is the recipient."

Spite purred in the background, contented; Lucanis stood up straight. "As I said, much to think about." He looked out over the courtyard, where Rook caught Davrin off-guard and sent him on his back with a resounding "Haha! Gotcha!"

Lucanis smiled, ducking his head. "Good night, Emmrich."

"Good night, Lucanis. Good night, Spite. I hope you both can get some rest."

Lucanis left, while Manfred trotted on over from his favourite spot in the sun. "Hsss?"

"Manfred! You just missed quite a performance." He gestured at the by now ended spectacle. "Rook bested Davrin!"

"Hnnnn," said Manfred, turning his big gemstone eyes to the ground below, where Rook helped Davrin to his feet, accompanied by the excitable chirps of Assan. Lucanis walked over, arms outstretched in congratulations. The two Crows embraced each other, laughing brightly. Teasing Davrin, by the sound of it.

For the briefest of moments, his eyes caught Rook's. His eyes seemed to pull in the light of the Fade sun, and his black curls sparkled with flecks of gold. Beautiful. Young. Out of reach. Obviously as smitten with his fellow Crow as Lucanis was with him.

Good. In an ideal world, love should always be reciprocated, but this was not such a world. He was happy for them. They did make such a handsome couple.

"Come along, Manfred. I have some essays left to review, and I'd love a pot of strong tea."

Manfred hissed, excited at the prospect of boiling water. Together, they descended the stairs to ground level and disappeared inside the Lighthouse. Tea was vastly preferable to the irrational urge he had to kick Lucanis off the edge of the courtyard.

##

The night before Tearstone Island, Rook paced the length of Davrin's bookshelf, while his friend sat by the fireplace whittling another monster for his collection.

"I don't know what to do. Nothing I do or say has any effect, and I've tried everything."

"Uhuh," said Davrin. Assan crouched at his feet, playing with the wood shavings.

"Complimenting his skills? Tea for two in the creepy but beautiful cemetery, ooh, how romantic! I even told him I like how he's in control!"

"Uhuh," said Davrin.

"Of corpses!"

Davrin laughed, setting aside his current project. "Alright, relax. What's your latest offence?"

"It's not that." Rook placed his closed fists on his hips. "I'm done. I mean, it's not like I can't take a hint, you know?"

"Sure. …fifteenth time's the charm?"

Assan chirped, his head bouncing with ill-disguised mirth. Rook took that as his cue to sit on the floor beside him. Nothing beat hugging that tiny little griffon's head. "That's what I mean! Do you know what the definition of insanity is?"

"You're not, though. You're lovesick."

"And I can't take a politely phrased 'no' for an answer." He sighed, gazing into Assan's sympathetic blue eyes. "I'm sure he's charmed and all, but… There's gotta be a limit. And I think I've reached it. It's not like he's giving me anything back for all my poor attempts at flirting."

Davrin clasped his fingers, leaning forward onto his elbows. "Maybe you need to do something instead of talking at him?"

Rook blinked. "Do what?"

Davrin pursed his lips. Choosing his words. "You know. What would you do to show him you're interested?"

"I gave him a haunted skull sculpture. Thingy. You know the one in his laboratory? Huge thing, creepy as fuck?"

Deadpan Davrin pressed his knuckles into his forearm "You've given all of us presents. Even me."

"I know." He smiled at the floor, wry. He was smooth like that. "I'm the worst. Terrible friend, giving things to people I care about."

"You know what I mean," Davrin went on, "how is he supposed to know his present was different?"

"Well… Because…" It was different because he cared. Because of how every time Emmrich walked into the room it got a bit easier to breathe. And harder. "…because it isn't. I'm the appointed leader of the team, and I can't pick favourites. But Lucanis told me about that time he got someone a dagger, and it backfired, and I figured…"

Davrin's smile turned a more sympathetic shade of teasing. "You could do better?"

"Yeah." He shrugged. What else could he do to emote the enormity of his dilemma? "But I couldn't only find a gift for him, so I… got something for everyone…"

Assan picked that moment to headbutt his chest, trilling like there was no tomorrow.

"Yeah, I know, buddy. But it's probably for the best, right? Not getting involved in the middle of, of all of this? We need to focus on what's important."

But Davrin would have none of that. "Rook. Love's the most important thing we got. Blight or no Blight. It's more important than anything else in the world."

Rook dragged down a deep breath. Almost everyone else had found love on the team. Taash and Harding, Neve and Bellara, and most recently Davrin and Lucanis. Was it really that bad of him to want the same? Was it really that different because he was their leader, when they'd all grown so close? "I know," he said. "Of course you're right. I'll…"

"Talk to him," said Davrin as Rook pushed to his feet.

"Yeah. Tomorrow. When we're back here, safe and sound."

The look in Davrin's eyes said what neither of them wanted to put into words: that there might not be a tomorrow where they all came back to the Lighthouse, safe and sound. Any one of them could die. All of them could fail, and Ghilan'nain and Elgar'nan could drown the world in blight.

But they had to believe they could do this, even if they had to lie to themselves and each other to make it happen.

"Sure," said Davrin, inclining his chin. "Better late than never, right?"

"Right… Alright, time to get some shuteye. Night, Assan. Don't let the bedbugs bite."

Assan made trilling noises, sad to see him go.

"Night, Rook. Rest well."

##

Tearstone Island broke Emmrich in ways he didn't think possible. Rook's cracked voice calling out Lucanis's name. The frosted claws of horror gripping his heart when Rook disappeared into the Fade. Lace, gone.

No one should lose the one they love, not Rook. Not Taash. Not Lucanis.

No one deserved love more than Rook, after everything he'd shouldered, fought against, gone up against, thrown himself at, again and again, to save them all. He should know all the love in the world.

Time ceased to matter at that point. He and Bellara worked tirelessly to fashion a dagger, endlessly, night after night, until he couldn't think anymore, and her voice went shrill with frustration, and neither one of them could go on without crying.

After two endless weeks, they got Rook back… but nothing was the same. Rook was still strong, determined, iron-willed and hard-headed despite everything. Lucanis was exhausted, relieved to the point of breaking when they finally pulled Rook back through the Veil.

They thought they'd never see him again, no one did, but they didn't dare hope for anything else, because what would they do without him?

Emmrich pulled back, not wanting to risk telling Rook how he felt. His dark eyes glimmered with promise, but Emmrich knew where his heart had found a home, and he wouldn't get between Rook and Lucanis. Never.

#

In the end, even Solas got his redemption, in the form of his love, Inquisitor Lavellan joining him in the Fade. Bellara and Neve reunited, tearful and happy.

Wounded and weary, everyone returned to the Lighthouse to recover, to spend some time recuperating after everything they'd gone through, but not Emmrich. He helped patch everyone up, and made his excuses. They were only vaguely disingenuous: a mage cannot stray too far from the Chantry and his duties, and he must see to his responsibilities within the Mourn Watch. So much had happened, but his time with the Veilguard had finally come to an end. He must return.

Rook found him in his laboratory, and tried to convince him to stay, just a little while longer. He'd like him to stay, he said. "It would be nice to spend some time with… everyone."

Emmrich couldn't. He would love to. "Dearly. But I can't," he said, pressing Rook's hands. "Take care, my dear. Know that you can always count on me as your ally, come what may. Send word, and I will stand by your side."

That light he'd come to love in Rook's eyes faded, like a flame reaching the end of the candle, finding its inevitable demise in the melting wax. "You too, Emmrich. You can always count on me, yeah?"

"I know. Give my regards to Lucanis? And Spite too, of course. I didn't get a chance to say my goodbyes."

"Sure. Um. Maybe you could come visit? In Treviso. I could show you around, like, a guided tour of the best vistas. Or, I could come to Nevarra City. I've only seen the Grand Necropolis…"

"Of course." Little white lies, that's what they were. Something to make the parting less painful. "Some time. Once the dust has settled accordingly, perhaps."

"Winter's End!" Manfred shook his closed fists. "Hot cocoa on the ice!"

"Yes! That's a splendid idea, Manfred. You could learn how to skate on the river!"

He hated himself, of course. All the way back to Nevarra. Back to his duties. Back to his old life, which had no place for fanciful dreams of whirlwind romance. They would be the best of friends, of course. The very best.

##

After the Fade, everything changed. Rook came back… different than before, and though he needed Emmrich like the air, water and the sun combined, Emmrich had grown distant. Pale and gaunt, and ramrod straight. And though Rook tried to make him stay, after Elgar'nan, he couldn't find the right words. Emmrich still left.

Several months later, he still hadn't found the words to express how he felt. It was a moot point, of course. Emmrich was bound to have moved on, back to his old life. And so did Rook.

#

Six months after Elgar'nan's fall, a small office in Docktown

"Here comes Trouble. Lucanis, always good to see you." Neve opened the door for them, showing them inside. Light trickled in through the blinds of Neve's studio apartment, her home away from home. The place smelled of burnt coffee, tobacco and ink, with a hint of charred fish and halla cakes. Hers and Bellara's favourites.

The past six months were… a blur, in many ways. Some days were easier. The nights, well. He pushed through the nights, filling as many contracts as he could before crashing. Caterina had never been so happy with him. Viago, too. He was finally someone they could speak of with respect. He saved the world—with their help, of course, but he still saved it. Him and his Veilguard, his… passed-on responsibility that never quit.

His found family. His family.

Which is why, whenever Neve sent word about a new case, he always answered. No matter her crimes against coffee. She poured them each a mug, inviting them to sit in front of her desk.

"Alright," he said, setting down his mug. As much as he appreciated the gesture, Neve hadn't invited him and Lucanis for gossip over a cuppa. "Don't keep a man in suspense, Neve. Spill."

Neve's lopsided smile healed him a litte bit every time she graced him with it. "Always impatient about the job, aren't you."

"He isn't the only one." Lucanis sat down beside him in one of the two carved wooden chairs in front of Neve's desk. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, arms relaxed. "Why are we here?"

Rook smiled on the inside. Some days, he could throw himself into the thick of things and forget about the gnawing hollow ache in his chest. Six months since he lost Harding. Almost a year since Varric… A lifetime since he came back from the Fade, and Emmrich looked at him as if he were a ghost.

He had Lucanis to lean on, and Spite. Best friend and guard dog duo ever.

"It's a simple job. Standard approach, go in, blend in, get information. Our contact will have an envelope for you. Make nice. Lucanis, you're lookout. If anyone's paying extra attention, we want to know about it. We can't compromise our source."

Rook arched his eyebrows. "Not to be that guy, but that sounds pretty basic."

"I'm lookout? Andraste mia."

Neve reached for her bone pipe and her small bag of tobacco leaf, beginning the ritual of stuffing the pipe. "What? You think I trust anyone more than I trust you?"

Lucanis scoffed, but not with any malice. "What you're not saying out loud is, you need someone who isn't immediately recognized for the job."

Rook could see where this was going. Lucanis would always grumble just a bit, for old time's sake. Next, he'd make a polite remark about the coffee. "Someone who isn't a Shadow Dragon."

"Got it in one."

"Fair enough. I get the envelope, rendezvous at a location of your choosing, make sure no one's tailing me."

Neve nodded. It was rather basic that way.

"Who's our contact?"

"None of your concern."

"Neve. Mierda, 'none of our concern?'"

Rook nudged his friend, placating without words. He turned to Neve. "Need to Know, I get it. But how will I recognize him?"

"He will be wearing a purple flower on his lapel. You will have a red rose. You will meet at the Glass Tortoise on the upper level of Docktown. It's a middling-to-fancy tavern, not as busy as the Cobbled Swan."

"More discreet," said Rook.

"Yes," said Neve, lighting up her pipe with a snap of her fingers. He'd always been fascinated by how easily she controlled the elements. Smoke danced through her nostrils. "I knew I could count on you, Rook." She cut her eyes to Lucanis, but only for the blink of an eye. "That's why you're my favourite."

##

A few hours later, Docktown

The sun was setting as Emmrich made it to Neve's charming abode overlooking the wharf. Bellara greeted him at the door, and to make matters even better, Davrin was already there.

"Bellara, my dear girl, look at you! Docktown is treating you well, I see."

Bellara hugged him close, showing him inside with a happy giggling. "It's all the fish. And pineapple! The fruit here is amazing!"

Leaning in ever so slightly, Emmrich pressed her hands. "I think love has something to do with it as well, wouldn't you agree?"

Her answering smile could have competed with the sun, her eyes darting quickly to Neve. "Love makes everything better, right?"

"That it does, my dear." Young love, old love, love forgotten and rekindled… All forms of love made the world a better place, and for two of his dearest friends to have found love amongst the chaos of last year—he couldn't be happier. "Neve, Davrin. You both look as dashing as always."

"Says the borne peacock," said Neve.

"That doesn't make him wrong," said Davrin, flashing his most winsome grin. "Dashing's my middle name."

"Davrin already knows he's the most handsome one of the Guard, you don't have to tell him." Neve stepped in, kissing his cheek. "Sit, have some tea. Let's talk shop."

"I believe in the power of compliments, when they're due." He moved further inside, to the less formal area of Neve's office: five unassuming chairs set around a small round table. A glazed teapot had pride of place at the center, in the most stunning turquoise colour. Matching cups were set out, one for each of them. "Yes, of course, an assignment! How very thrilling."

"It's standard procedure, really," said Bellara. "You're going to deliver an envelope with critical information to a Shadow Dragon contact at the Glass Tortoise."

"Davrin's on lookout duty. Anyone looks fishy, sic Assan on them." Neve picked up her teacup, blowing on the surface to cool it. "We're counting on you to be discreet."

Emmrich couldn't ignore the frisson of excitement tingling along his spine. "You can count on me, my dear. But…" He looked to Davrin, and back to Neve, searching for answers he wouldn't find without asking the right questions. "I have to wonder. Why am I the best person for this assignment? Davrin and Assan, absolutely. But why me?"

Davrin shrugged. He sat leaned back in his chair, casual. Such a contrast to their time at the Lighthouse, when even his eyebrows couldn't relax. "I think Neve just told you why." Speaking of his eyebrows, they gave a meaningful arch, teasing and quirky at the same time. "You know how to make nice with people. If anyone can mingle with the masses, it's you. You'll fit right in. And, it's Minrathous. No one will suspect you're carrying sensitive intel."

Emmrich sipped his tea. "I am 'Professor Emmrich Volkarin, most renowned Mourn Watcher still among the living.' I'm positively immaculate. I even tutored one of your most beloved members of the Magisterium."

Neve smirked at their antics. "If not immaculate, you're the last person anyone would suspect."

"You're just the man for the job, Professor." Bellara gestured at him with her cup. "I mean, you both are."

"Nice save, Bel." Davrin leaned forward, picking up his tea. "Just point me in the direction of trouble, and I'm there. You can count on me and Assan."

Emmrich nodded, trying not to grin too wide, but the prospect of an assignment, out in the field? How very thrilling indeed. "I won't disappoint you."

"Make sure you don't," said Neve, her smile tempered by the underlying seriousness of the situation. "The whole case depends on you. No pressure. Your contact will have a red rose, and you'll wear a purple flower in your buttonhole."

"It is rather cloak and dagger of you. But with a somewhat romantic twist," said Emmrich, regretting it almost immediately. "Or am I imagining things?"

"Docktown's lovely this time of year. Crisp snow underfoot, fire baskets in the streets, of course it's romantic. It could be inspiration for a cover persona. Maybe you're there to meet someone special?"

Davrin's grin turned sharp, teasing like his quirky eyebrow. "Don't go giving him ideas, Neve. Do you want him to sweep your contact off their feet?"

"I will conduct myself with the utmost professionalism, thank you, Davrin." He placed his hand on Davrin's arm, gentle but still admonishing. And he would. It wasn't as though anyone could hold a candle next to Rook, even after all this time.

"There's no doubt in my mind," said Neve, reaching for a map rolled up on the sideboard. "Now. Location. You'll go to the Glass Tortoise tomorrow evening, be there at seven o'clock, sharp…"

#

The following day, at The Glass Tortoise. Seven o'clock

Emmrich arrived at the Glass Tortoise half an hour early, foregoing Neve's suggestion of pretending he was there for a date. He'd dressed for the occasion: a shirt the colour of corroded copper paired with a waistcoat the colour of rich chocolate, and a pair of dark grey trousers. He was especially pleased with the waistcoat, which brought out the colour of the small bouquet of lilacs tucked into his breastpocket. Their fragrance soothed him, and when Neve had talked of purple flowers, he knew it had to be lilac. They were his favourite, as much for their colour as their beauty.

He ordered a glass of wine and sat down with a book and his reading glasses, although both were a ruse: he didn't touch the wine, nor actually read the words, but it was a 'cover' that suited him better. It strayed a ways from the lovelorn old man, an image that hit too close to home. Neve wouldn't know, of course. He'd never lamented the dreams of his youth to her. Of never finding a home for his heart in someone else's bosom. Of never marrying, though Nevarra was one of few countries in Thedas that granted mages such privileges. Better to lean into his scholarly image, and pretend to read.

At precisely one minute to seven, someone entirely too familiar walked through the door of the tavern, shaking snow off soft curls the colour of ravens. He knew those curls anywhere. He'd memorized them, obsessed over them in the quiet, restless nights. The silhouette. The line of his nose, with its subtle but unmistakable bridge. The angle of his occipital bone, framed by dark eyebrows, both of which lent his countenance a softness: a stark contrast to the curve of his mouth, or the sharpness of his wit.

How many times had he seen that brow furrowing with determination, right before throwing himself into the thick of things? Brave, but never foolish, impulsive but never quite reckless. For a Crow.

… fishing out a red rose from inside his coat, spying the room for…

"… Emmrich?"

Their eyes met across the merry patrons of the tavern, and Emmrich's heart skipped a beat. "Rook. But…" He stood, moving around the table, meeting his friend halfway. "I don't understand. Is this… I mean, are you?"

"No idea." Rook frowned, bringing out the line chiseled into the skin between his eyebrows. "You're Neve's contact?"

"I…" He opened his mouth, but no words followed, his mind drawing a blank. He gestured for Rook to lead on, to join him at his table. "It would seem we have been set up."

"Uhuh," said Rook.

"Though I can't imagine why," said Emmrich. "I was told to deliver an envelope to a contact. To be discreet, while Davrin's lookout."

Rook groaned, but nonetheless took a seat, laying the rose at the center of the table. "Lucanis! The little— Of course it's Lucanis and Davrin!"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

With a complete lack of ceremony or frills, Rook reached for Emmrich's glass of wine and downed half of it in one go. "They're playing matchmaker. Maker's Breath…"

Emmrich's pulse quickened. Why would Lucanis… "Matchmaker? But. I thought you and Lucanis are… That you were…"

"What?" Realization dawned in Rook's warm brown eyes. They widened to the size of small saucers. "No! No, no, he's my brother-in-arms. He's my best friend! We're not. You know. Uh. Like that."

"Oh," said Emmrich, at a loss for what else to say.

"Yeah. I mean, we're close but… Not that close? It's him and Davrin doing the whole…" He gestured vaguely with the wine glass, swallowing. It made his larynx bob in the most enticing way.

Emmrich blinked, taking the glass from Rook. He sipped the wine. Rather a larger sip than he would under normal circumstances, but. Here they were.

"So…" Rook hesitated. "What're we supposed to do?"

Emmrich splayed his hands, caught unawares by a smile. He didn't know where it came from, nerves or apprehension. He took out the small white envelope tucked into the very last pages of his book. "I… suppose we do as instructed. Have a drink and… see what this envelope contains. How very mysterious."

Rook eyed the envelope with clear skepticism. "Uhuh. Mysterious or ominous? I can't decide."

They got more wine, a glass each, and Rook scooted his chair closer as Emmrich opened the offending item of their mutual stitch-up.

Inside was a single sheet of paper, folded in half, filled with messages penned by six different hands. Addressed to both of them.

Emmrich: I once asked you what you would do to show someone you were interested in them as more than a friend. Your advice led me to finding my better half. For that, I can never repay you. But hopefully, this goes a little way towards expressing my gratitude. And, perhaps, help you and Rook see what is obvious to all of us. PS: don't tell Davrin.

Rook: Love is love. Even when words can't express it all, because to say them out loud feels like diminishing everything you feel.

Yours sincerely, Lucanis

"Ugh, Luca…" Rook's cheeks took on a warmer hue. "He always knows exactly what's going on with me. How does he do that?"

"He's a good friend," said Emmrich. His eyes went to the next message. It made his throat close up, as much for whose writing it was, as for the message.

You smell happy when you're in the same room together. So. Do something about it. Be happy. Together. Don't waste time being stupid about it. /Taash

"Oh. My." If anyone knew what they were talking about, it was Taash. Their bond with Lace was nothing short of profound, and all the more tragic for how little time they had together. There were days when he still expected her to rise from the bowels of the earth, a descendant Titan. Unstoppable. Fiercely loyal. He could only imagine what it must be like for Taash.

"Tells it like it is, huh?" Rook tilted his head towards him, but his eyes stayed glued to the letter. A love letter, of all things, from their most cherished friends.

Emmrich pushed out air through his nose, blinking his eyes before emotion got the better of him. Neve and Bellara's messages made him chuckle: Face it. Trouble needs someone to keep his unbridled get-to-itiveness in check. Temper his gumption a bit. No one better for the job, Emmrich. So get to it. /Neve

I'm sorry I never said anything before, but I didn't know how to: you would be good for each other. If you let each other close, even though it's the most difficult thing ever? Love, Bellara

Love each other. Because I love you, and I want you to be happy. Yours, Manfred.

"They're not wrong," said Rook, plucking the letter from Emmrich's hand. He turned it over, and there it was, the last message for them. From none other than Davrin.

Hey, Rook, Emmrich. You know what everyone wrote already, and I can't really add much to it. Other than this: your eyes light up like bonfires when you set eyes on one another. That's got to mean something. Something good, you know? Don't let the fires go out. Keep them burning. Be good. Live long, and be happy. Just, talk to each other? I know you can do it. /D

Emmrich chuckled at the wording, but the message hit home. Hadn't he said something similar, to someone, about communication being the most important thing? That it was better to be genuine, than to try too hard?

He cleared his throat, tilting his head closer to Rook. "There's a saying in Nevarra. It goes back generations, no one really knows where it stems from, but I've always loved the sentiment."

Rook leaned closer, but swayed back just as easily. "We're not in Nevarra, Emmrich."

"No." There was no denying that. "But in Nevarra, we're nearing Winter's End. And, it is said, that in Winter's End is love's beginning."

"Manfred did say something about hot cocoa on the ice. If I recall. That time I suggested we visit each other?"

Emmrich nodded. He remembered it quite well. "That he did."

Rook reached for his hand. "Feels like a lifetime ago. But I still mean what I said back then. I'd love to come visit. Spend some time with you, away from everything."

Emmrich's breath caught in his throat. "And… we would love to have you. I would love to share that with you."

"Yeah?" Rook's hand was warm, strong. Something to depend on, draw strength from.

For a heartbeat, Emmrich's world toppled off its axis. Vertigo loomed, ominous, but he dragged in a shivering breath. This was it. He had to make this count. Speak plainly, or never speak at all. "For as long as you'll have me, I will share everything with you. Good and bad. Everything I love, everything I've experienced. All the things that weigh me down… Although they don't feel so heavy when you're with me."

Rook's eyes lowered to their hands. "Like, the rest of your life, you mean? Or mine?"

"And beyond," said Emmrich. "If… you belive in such things."

Rook squeezed Emmrich's hand. Firm. Warm. Solid. "I can believe in a love that lasts. If it's with you by my side."

"Then…" He picked up his second glass of wine. He felt a toast coming on. Heart hammering, hands shaking and all. "For a love that lasts?"

Rook raised his own glass. "For love. Period. Yeah?"

Emmrich dragged in a tremulous breath. "I could live with that."

"You'd better," said Rook. "You're what, fifty-something?" He grinned, like the cat who got the cream and the canary in one fell swoop. "I won't take anything less than four decades with you by my side."

It startled a chortle out of him, the sheer notion of demanding someone's lifespan to extend past a certain point. "Will you still want me when I'm ninety years old?"

Rook leaned in, pressing his lips to the corner of Emmrich's mouth in a kiss as comforting as his touch. "I'll love you for as long as I live, Emmrich. And if that isn't enough, from what you've taught me about life and death, I think it's safe to say our love will span that threshold."

"If you want me, I'm yours." Emmrich sighed, filled to the brim with warmth, like the first rays of sunshine after a punishing winter. "And… I love you more than words can express. But I think our friends got fairly close."

"We'll never let them live this down, huh?" Rook's eyes sparkled in the dimmed light of the tavern, like autumn leaves against a vivid sunset.

Emmrich grinned, for the first time in what felt like forever. His chest swelled with emotion, bolstering him. Making him invincible, for whatever may cross their paths down the line. "Not for as long as we live, no."

"I like the sound of that," said Rook, and leaned his head towards the section farther inside the tavern. "Am I right in assuming we have an audience? How about you drop the pretense, and join us already?"

Someone cursed in the background, a crisp and very familiar mierda. Another someone erupted into bright, sunshiny giggles, and soon enough their entire found family came forward: Neve and Bellara, Lucanis and Davrin, and last but certainly not least, Taash and Manfred, going in for a group hug to rival all other group hugs.

Emmrich startled himself with a bellyache laugh, catching Bellara in a firm hug. Even though he'd gone for so long thinking his love was unrequited, thinking he was left to his own devices, navigating this life on his own—he had his friends. His family, chief among families, and a love that would never fade away, for as long as they lived.

And now he had Rook by his side, promising… if not eternity, then constance. Faithfulness and strength combined. As long as the Maker would grant them.

In Winter's End is love's beginning. Except… love had been there all along, if he'd just opened his eyes to it. It had always been there, and Maker willing, it would live on long after his passing, in the heart of his friends.

~The End~