Chapter Text
“I’m getting dangerously close to cutting you off.”
Rook lifted her head from the countertop to glare at Isabela, who now stood on the other side of The Hilt's bar, eyebrow cocked. “I very specifically came when Ledro’s working. What did you do with him?”
Isabela attempted to pull away the tankard, but Rook wrapped a hand around it tightly and gave her a pointed glare. She wisely released it. “Gave him the night off. He’s costing me too much money with the free drinks.”
She rolled her eyes and put her head back in her arms. “I’ll have you know that was only my third refill. I’m allowed to get drunk every once in a while, you know.”
"You know I ordinarily support a person’s right to get drunk every now and again, but not you. And you know why.” Her voice was more stern than she had heard in years. For a moment, Rook was sixteen again, and Isabela was chiding her about her drinking. “Now, look at me and tell me why the relapse, sweetheart.”
“Not a relapse,” she mumbled into her arms. “Just…let me have today, okay?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Isabela sling a bare leg over the bar and twirl to sit on the edge of the counter beside her. Her long fingers stroked Rook’s tangle of hair, sweeping the curls away from her face and stroking her nails along her scalp. Despite the frayed nerves, the grief, the achy muscles, and the impending doom that constantly weighed on her heart, the tension began to melt from Rook’s neck. She sighed and moved her head closer to Isabela’s leg, not lifting it.
Isabela chuckled. “Glad to see that little trick of getting you relaxed still works. I’ll have to pass it on to that delicious gentleman you bring by sometimes. He seems as though he’d be more than happy to help you unwind.”
That made her head shoot up. The telltale burning she always got in her cheeks when thinking about, talking about, looking at, or talking to the neighborhood necromancer nearly scalded her. “Do not-”
“Oh stop it. You’re absolutely smitten with the man. And who could blame you?” She tugged lightly on a curl that had come loose from her ponytail. “A bit old for you though, isn’t he?”
Rook gave her a scathing look. “Isabela. Drop it.”
Her sparkling brown eyes rolled. “Fine. Now, done with your drink there? I have a proposal for you.”
“Before you go,” a stranger sitting a bit further down the bar interjected. “Could I get an ale? Shittiest stuff you have will do nicely.” He was qunari, one of the largest Rook had ever seen. She had marked his entrance into The Hilt, avoided eye contact as he sat down several stools from her, and had eventually lost interest when he seemed to be seeking what she did: solitude.
Isabela grinned. “It’s your lucky day, friend. Rookie here has decided this fine golden ale was not to her liking.”
Rook slid the stein down to the qunari, who caught it deftly. His hands were simply massive as he lifted it in a toast to her. “Much obliged.”
She gave him a nod before turning her attention back to Isabela. “Your proposal?”
“You know that fine beachside estate near Caraval Cove?”
“The one owned by that Orlesian prick?”
“The very same. The prick is dead. Got a bit too comfortable shouting orders at the Antaam to get off his property and they gutted him.”
“Oh.” The Orlesian noble was a horrible jerk. He’d been petitioning the Rivaini crown to have the Lords of Fortune hunted down and executed as pirates for the last five years following a dispute over a cache of treasure found off his property by a Lord. He had demanded that the Lords hand over the treasure, but had no legitimate claim other than his sense of self-importance. “Well. I can’t say I feel too sorry for the man.”
Isabela crossed her legs primly. “It’s a shame he was such an ass. We cleared the Antaam out of the house fairly easily. Had he not wanted to see us all hanging, we could have helped him.”
If the house was already cleared, what did Isabela need? Rook kept quiet, wondering where this was going.
“Anyway, here’s my proposal. After all that shit in Weisshaupt, you need a break. Your whole crew does. Take a week in the beach house, why don’t you? You can join us for the Moon Jellies festival at the end and go back to saving the world or whatever else you have going on, fully rested and buddied up with your companions.”
Rook snorted; she didn’t think a year of rest on the beach would get rid of the achiness that always permeated her very bones lately.
Isabela nudged her with a thigh. “Ren, listen to me. I ran with the fucking Champion of Kirkwall. I know what I’m talking about here. You need a break, or you won't be in the right headspace to fight some goddam…gods.”
Rook noted the qunari’s head cock ever so slightly. Listening. The Champion of Kirkwall was certainly an intriguing subject to overhear in a shitty bar, but fighting gods? Rook lowered her voice slightly. “A break does sound…nice. I’ll ask the team. They may not even want to leave, not with all the bullshit we have breathing down our backs.”
Isabela clapped her hands together. “Wonderful. Can’t wait to meet them all. Especially that yummy Mourn Watch gentleman that's caught your eye.”
“If I agree to this,” Rook hastily lifted a hand, cheeks burning. “You are to leave that part alone. It’s still…” Still new, still strange, still awkward? She wasn’t sure what it was. Emmrich had kissed her in the Memorial Gardens, the gentleness and the passion of it haunting her every dream, and they had coupled once, softly, sweetly, on Rook’s settee in her room. After that, the chaste kisses he bestowed her with were agony. She wanted more, wanted to see him lose his grip on his limitless control, to see that the attraction and fire she felt for him was requited. The alternative was that he’d lose interest in her, a silly young girl chasing after a handsome older man. He seemed to want to keep their relationship a secret from their companions, a fact that made her uneasy with insecurities.
The knowing smirk on Isabela’s lips irritated her. The older woman patted Rook on the head like a child. “Oh, I think we definitely need to have you two share a room. You have some…tension to work out.”
“Isabela-”
“I’ll bet a man like that has some spectacular experience under his belt,” she said dreamily. “And a mage too? They’ve got some tricks for pleasure up their sleeve. Have I ever told you about the mage I ran with in Kirkwall? Anders had the most incredibly electrici-”
“You’ve told me at least once a week since I was a teenager,” Rook said hastily, casting another glance at the qunari. The corners of his lips were twitching upward, the snooping bastard.
Isabela’s smile was positively feral. “It bears repeating.”
“It really doesn’t.”
Adjusting her tricorn hat primly, Isabela turned her attention to the qunari. “I swear, we offer up advice to our charges on a silver platter, and they give us lip instead.”
The qunari shifted to look at her. The eye patch wasn’t enough to hide deep scarring along his forehead and horns, which were the largest she had ever seen on any of his kind. “Ungrateful shits, aren’t they? Mine likes to pretend he’s the leader of my crew now. You stumble ONE TIME in a fight against a giant, suddenly you’re treated like an invalid.”
Having marked the pronounced limp the stranger bore when he entered the bar, Rook could only imagine the stumbling in question.
Isabela hopped off the bar and sauntered to him. “Why don’t you two brood together for a while? Rook, this is a mutual friend of Varric’s, the Iron Bull. Bull, this is Rook. She’s taken on Varric’s shit.”
Bull’s eye flickered with something pained. “Sorry for what happened. He was a good friend.”
Rook nodded, her throat tight. How would Varric take being left alone at the Lighthouse while everyone else ran off to the beach for a week? She supposed she could set up a small infirmary for him at the manor. They’d probably need it anyway, if she knew her friends at all. “The Iron Bull…you were in the Inquisition, weren’t you? Harding’s told me about you.”
“Oh he was in the Inquisition, alright,” Isabela smirked. “And in the Inquisitor too.”
Harding had mentioned that as well, but mentioned that things between Belinda Cadash and her lover were…strained, to say the least. The Iron Bull’s easy grin tightened somewhat. “Something like that, yeah.”
Rook sensed a need for a change in topic. “So, what brings you to Rivain?”
The Iron Bull took a big gulp from his drink. “Eh. Had a job further inland that fell through. Now we’re stuck trying to sort out what to do next.”
Not join the Inquisitor in the fight in the South? Rook frowned but didn’t comment on it. “How long do you think you’ll be?”
The single eye narrowed slightly. “Inquisitor Cadash made it clear she doesn’t need the Charger’s aid in the South. So who the fuck knows.”
Rook’s gaze slid to Isabela, who gave a roll of her eyes that seemed to say We’ll talk later. “Well, Harding will be excited to see you.”
“Lace Harding?” That crudely-hewn face twisted into a genuine smile. “How’s she doing? Still causing mayhem?”
“That’s what she calls her bow, at least.”
Bull chuckled. “Always liked her. Did she tell you about the time she stood on my shoulders while firing off her arrows? We called it the-”
“Flesh siege engine?” Rook giggled.
“That’s the one,” Bull said fondly. “Glad to hear she’s safe. My lieutenant will be glad too. Maybe he’ll get his head out of his ass and seal the deal with her.”
Rook thought about Taash and their awkward, fumbling attempts to flirt with Harding. Lace had talked about Cremisius Aclassi, or Krem, as he was more widely known, often quite wistfully. “It wouldn’t have worked out long-term,” she had said one night as she, Rook, and Varric stopped at a seedy tavern in Vyrantium, not long before making it to Minrathous. “He had the Chargers, and I had my mission.”
She was certain Krem was an honorable sort, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t rooting for Taash to sweep Harding off her feet. Perhaps the arrival of an old flame would push them to make a move at last.
“Well,” Isabela clapped her hands together and slid off the bar. “You best get your team ready, love. This week should be interesting at least.”
***
“So you expect us to go on vacation while the world burns around us?” Davrin’s scowl was precisely as Rook had pictured. “What about the people of Lavendell? How am I supposed to look Antoine and Evka in the eye and just say ‘I’ll be on the beach for a week, hold my messages until then’?”
Rook rubbed the bridge of her nose tiredly. “We’ve done all we can in Lavendell for now. We won’t have much else until Antoine’s research has progressed.”
“There’s still dark-”
“Oh for fucks sake, Dav,” Taash grunted irritably. “There’s still the eluvian. We can easily jump back to Hossberg within an hour if shit goes to hell just the same as we can here.”
“Taash is right,” Harding piped up from where she perched on the arm of the sofa beside the qunari, who practically glowed at the agreement. “You and Lucanis can still have your brooding contest. You’ll just have a view of the ocean rather than open fade.”
Lucanis opened his mouth to argue, but his eyes glowed purple. “Yes! Yes! Ocean is good. Ocean smells better.” His eyes returned back to their piercing darkness, and Lucanis frowned deeply. “And I do not brood.”
That earned a huffed laugh from Neve and Bellara. The latter was practically vibrating with excitement. “I’ve wanted to swim in the sea since we recruited Taash,” she said, beaming brightly enough that Davrin and Lucanis’s expressions softened. “Do you think we can bring the Nadas Dirthalen?”
Emmrich answered before Rook could. “Absolutely not, Bellara. That thing has been driving you near mad lately. It will be quite safe here with the Caretaker.” Rook was grateful he’d spoken up. Bellara was too in awe of the professor still to feel comfortable enough arguing with him, and she’d be too tempted to huck the self-righteous archivist into the sea if she had to hear its condescending voice one more time. “I, for one, am most excited to see more of Rook and Taash’s home.”
“Wonderful,” Rook said firmly, trying to ignore the blush that threatened to come to the surface at the necromancers’ completely innocuous words. “We leave later this afternoon. The Caretaker has offered to forward any missives to the Hall of Valor eluvian, so we’ll know if anything important comes up.”
There were a few questions about recommended packing lists and rooming situation at the manor, but soon enough everyone was dispersed to begin preparations. Rook turned on her heel and made to head to her own quarters, but Emmrich stopped her with a light touch to the small of her back that sent butterflies in her stomach. “A word, if I may?”
She nodded and followed Emmrich into the nearby music room, the door closing behind them. Rook let her gaze trail up his long, lean body, taking in the strong jaw and well-groomed mustache, the silver-streaked hair that never seemed to have so much as a strand out of place.
The self-control the senior mage had, the impeccable care he put into everything from his appearance to his work to the wellbeing of his skeletal charge, it all seemed so…perfect. Even his self-described fear of death, so at odds with his chosen life of necromancy, never seemed to hinder him when it came to putting his life on the line out in the field.
Perhaps that was why Rook felt like an imposter every time he pulled her into his arms and kissed her senseless. Like she was in a cruel, wonderful dream from which she’d soon wake.
Or perhaps it was that he only kissed her, only touched her when they were completely alone, as he did now. Emmrich’s hand slipped into hers as soon as they cleared the dark passage into the music room, the coarse hairs of his thin mustache tickling her skin as his lips brushed the back of her hand. “Forgive me, I’m sure you have much to attend to before we leave,” he said softly.
Maker, his eyes were so filled with adoration. It didn’t seem possible that it was all for her. “I wasn’t planning on bringing much,” Rook said, leaning against the piano in the center of the room.
“Ah. Hopefully the number of books I plan on bringing doesn’t offend you then,” Emmrich grinned ruefully. “Lace will certainly have some concerns.”
“Lace is planning on bringing every smutty book Solas has stuffed in this library she can reach. And what she can’t reach, Taash is planning on bringing. They say it’s research into Solas’s psyche.”
Emmrich chuckled. “Any edge in this war, right?”
“Something like that.” Rook let her fingers trace silently over the keys of the piano absently. “Anyway, there’s no better time to catch up on some reading than on a sunny beach. I’ll be doing some of my own on this excursion too.”
“Purely academic, I’m sure.”
“Absolutely.”
They stared at one another in silence. Rook struggled not to blush at his attention, tried to think about anything but the last time they were alone together, when he’d been so bold as to run heated kisses up the column of her neck before claiming her lips in a frenzied kiss that stole the breath from her lungs.
Perhaps they would have gone farther, had Bellara not come knocking to demand that Emmrich not let Manfred mess with her tools. The way Emmrich had practically shoved Rook away from him had sent shame burning through her throat.
The warring memory brought that shame back, and Rook knew if she didn’t get out of there, she was going to say something she’d regret. “Was there something you needed, Professor?”
She knew she’d fucked up when his eyebrows knitted together. “Professor?”
“Emmrich. Was there something you needed, Emmrich?”
The furrows between his brows deepened. He came a little closer, reaching out to take her hand and squeezing it slightly. “Is there something wrong, darling?”
Rook shook her head, a little too quickly. “Nope. Nothing wrong.”
“Are you certain? You’ve been somewhat…distant, lately. And I should hope if anyone can think of calling me Emmrich, it’d be you.”
You’re only not distant when we’re alone. Rook wanted to scream. You don’t want anyone to know about us. You’re ashamed of me.
Instead, she took the cowards’ way out and rose on her tiptoes to kiss him. He welcomed it, an arm banding around her waist to pull her tightly against his body, the other hand gripping her hair right at the scalp. The way his tongue swept over hers was utterly intoxicating
He broke the kiss only to tilt her head to the side, allowing better access to her neck. His lips against the sensitive skin seemed to leave fire in their wake, the scrape of his teeth enough to make her toes curl. She let a needy moan slip from her lips, and Emmrich grinned against her skin. “Like that, darling?”
“Yes,” Rook whimpered. His hand slid down her back to cup her backside, the most scandalous touch he’d placed upon her yet. “Please, Emm…”
He backed her against the piano, still fisting her hair tightly. Rook felt the hard edge of the case against her lower back, but didn’t care, running her hands along the lean planes of his body, reaching to palm the hardening bulge through his trousers. She let out another obscene moan at the size, the way it seemed to strain against her palm, the proof of his desire for her that she’d been craving.
The touch against his cock seemed to snap something in Emmrich. Rook let out a small squeak as he lifted her by the waist to sit on the edge of the piano, slotting himself between her thighs and devouring her moans once more. His hands came up to cup her breasts, seeming just as frustrated by layers of the shirt and breast band between them. She released him long enough to start undoing the buttons, and Emmrich licked and sucked down her collar bone toward the newly exposed skin.
The tickle of his mustache felt divine as he laved attention upon the curve of the top of her breasts, sucking hard enough to leave a small bruise before his teeth caught on the top of the band, tugging it downward so agonizingly slow. She needed more…More of this, more of him, more of something…
A whoosh of the magical door to the music room opened. Rook scarcely noticed, too caught in the sensations of Emmrich’s hands and mouth, but he leaped into action, practically shoving the two halves of her shirt back together and yanking her off the piano to stand once more.
Footsteps echoed down the narrow corridor to reveal Taash, Manfred close behind. “Hey Corpse Guy, tell your pet skeleton that it can’t come in my room,” they said irritably. “I just got it arranged how I…whaaat’s going on here?”
Emmrich answered quickly. “Just making arrangements for Manfred to travel with us to Rivain. He’s never seen the ocean before, so I think he’ll quite enjoy it.”
The skeleton hissed excitedly, green gemstone eyes glowing brighter. Rook would have smiled if she wasn’t focused on holding the two halves of her shirt together in the most inconspicuous way possible, face burning.
Not burning from nearly being caught making out like a horny teenager in a common room, but from the way her ‘lover’ basically flung her off of him like she was some shameful mistake, and then swiftly lied to their companion about it.
Taash certainly wasn’t fooled, however. The way their nostrils flared and their steely eyes narrowed at her made that all too clear.
Emmrich evidently didn’t know about the adaari’s ability to scent arousal, and merely turned to his skeletal charge. “Manfred, you can’t enter into our companions’ quarters without their permission. You know that.”
Manfred let out a belated hiss and gestured at Taash impatiently. Emmrich merely sighed. “Apologies, Taash. I suspect your horde of treasures and mementos intrigues him. He enjoys shiny things, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
The edges of their hard glare softened, only slightly. “Yeah. Well, I guess I can get that. Just don’t let him in my room when I’m not there, okay?”
“Of course. Manfred?”
Manfred gave what could be interpreted as an apologetic hiss, and Taash merely shifted uncomfortably, but chose not to say anything. They were doing so well keeping their unkind remarks about Emmrich’s somewhat more…macabre…practices to a minimum, Rook thought with no small amount of pride.
“Hey skeleton, wanna see the bejeweled sword I found in a dragon cave?” Taash asked Manfred cautiously. Manfred hissed in delight and began to follow Taash back down the hall, who paused before making it far. They withdrew a rolled note from their pocket. “Oh. Yeah. Rook, message came for you, from that one guy in Minrathous.”
Rook finished surreptitiously doing up enough buttons on her shirt to be socially acceptable and moved to take the message. The flashy script in peacock-blue ink revealed “that one guy in Minrathous” to be none other than Magister Dorian Pavus. As Taash departed, Manfred clattering behind them, Rook read through the note, brows furrowed.
My Dear Rook,
I hope this ‘saving the world’ business is going well on your end. It’s rather shit here, as you might imagine. Our sweet Inquisitor has let me know it’s time to awaken a sleeper agent within the Venatori that has been working with us since our days fighting Corypheus, and would like you to meet with him somewhere private to see how best he can help our work here in Minrathous.
A little bird told me you intend to spend some time in Rivain over the next week. We’ll plan to meet you there tomorrow morning. Bring the illustrious detective, as I’m sure she’ll have many questions, and whoever else you trust to the meeting.
Sorry for the vagueness. I personally oversaw this sleeper agents’ placement and presence for the last decade, so you’ll understand my unwillingness to let anything compromise him.
Hoping you are well
M. Dorian Pavus
An old ache twisted in Rook’s gut, one that resurfaced any time she had to interact with Dorian, or even Maevaris Tilani, despite her no longer holding a seat in the Magisterium. She trusted them both, mostly, particularly after Dorian saved her from being hauled off to Weisshaupt by the First Warden weeks ago, but every reminder of the Magisters’ power in Tevinter made the scars on her back tingle unpleasantly.
“What is it?” Emmrich inquired, coming up behind her to read over her shoulder.
Rook flinched, having forgotten he was there. Discomfort flickered right back to life as his hands found her waist, caressing through her shirt as though he hadn’t just shoved her away from him like she burned him. “A letter from Magister Pavus. He wishes to meet in Rivain.”
Emmrich placed a kiss on her neck that sent fire licking down her body, even as a lump in throat rose. “A sleeper agent within the Venatori? How intriguing. And here I thought we were meant to have a break.” She should shove him away. If she had any self-control, any self-respect, she would. But the way his hands caressed her body coming to wrap more tightly around her in a lover’s embrace, his lips trailing along her neck and up to her ear, it all drove all rational thought from her mind.
“It’s just one meeting,” Rook struggled to get out through his ministrations.
“I certainly hope so,” he said, voice low and heated in her ear. “Our chances of being able to spend some time together-alone-seem much better this week, don’t you think?”
The lizard-brained portion of her thought that sounded more than amenable, but she couldn’t help but frown, moving to pull away from him. His grip tightened on her hips, almost possessively, and damn if that didn’t nearly drag a moan from her lips, but she held her ground, turning to face him. “We could also spend time together with our companions,” she tried to keep her voice steady, no hint of pleading. “I…I don’t like hiding things from them, Emmrich.”
Emmrich’s darkened eyes softened slightly. He reached to take her hand, but she folded her arms tightly and tried to keep her expression firm, despite the small tremble trying to work through her. “I know, my darling. I…I just want this to ourselves. Just a bit longer.”
“Why? They won’t care. They’d be happy for us.”
“Would they?” He ran a hand through his hair anxiously. “Do you really think they’d be accepting of a man of my stage of life, pursuing a much younger woman?”
Anger flared through the pit of Rook’s stomach, chasing away the ache of shame. “So you’re ashamed of me, then? Is that it?”
Emmrich’s eyes widened, as though in horror. “No, darling, that’s not what I-”
“Then what did you mean, professor? Our gap in age is never going away, so do you intend to hide our relationship from our friends forever? Or are you planning on growing bored with me eventually?”
“Now just a moment, Renya-”
Rook hadn’t realized she had stormed right back up to him, glaring up at him so fiercely tears were welling in her eyes. “Or do you mean that your ‘stage of life’ is so far above mine, you don’t want your reputation to be tarnished by a common pirate?”
At this, Emmrich’s gaze hardened, true rage shining in his eyes. Rook’s blood sang in spite of herself when he seized her by the upper arms, well-manicured nails digging into her bare skin. “Have you considered that it is not my reputation I fear being tarnished? You have the attention of everyone everywhere we go.” Rook scoffed at that, but his grip tightened. “Davrin, Taash, Andarateia, the Veil Jumpers merchant, even the Void-damned Viper, adoring your every move, wanting you the way I want you, and being infinitely more deserving of your attention than I.”
“They aren’t-”
“Oh, they are,” he all but snarled, nose nearly brushing hers. They stared into the others’ eyes until Rook was quite positive she’d do something foolish, like close the small gap between them to kiss him, if he didn’t release her.
Emmrich seemed to come to the same conclusion. He took a few cleansing breaths, and his grip loosened on her arms. When he next spoke, his voice carried a small quiver to it. “Any one of them would be a better match for you, Renya. Not a cowardly old man. But in spite of that, I’m too selfish to want to let you go.”
Rook’s heart nearly shattered at that, at the way his broken gaze left hers to drop to the floor. “I don’t want any of them,” she whispered.
She wanted to believe he meant it, that it wasn’t shame for her, but for himself that kept him from wanting to sing their relationship from the rooftops.
In spite of that, Rook couldn’t let go of the doubt that festered in her heart. “I want you, Emmrich. I have from that first time you took me to the Memorial Gardens. And I’m not ashamed of that one bit. But I can’t be with someone who’s ashamed to be with me.”
And with that, she slid out of his grasp, stepping toward the door of the music room. “My feelings haven’t changed. Let me know if you’re ever ready to be with me wholly.”
Emmrich said nothing as she left, though she could feel his gaze burning into her back until the music room door slid shut behind her. She kept a straight face all the way up the library stairs until the door of her quarters slid shut, leaving her along with the sea life that swirled in the tank along the wall.
Only then did she let the mental dam holding back her tears break, sinking onto her chaise bed to sob until Harding came to let her know it was time to depart for Rivain.