With the mood of the afternoon plummeting faster than there was time to course-correct, Hugh knew when it would be wise to quit the field. Storming out of the jewelers, he shoulder-checked a well-dressed man caught in his path on accident. The hurried, half-mumbled apology was met with a cool stare. That, he'll admit, was earned as he stepped out of the way of more foot traffic.
Hugh didn't know which was worse — the fact he should be used to this by now or that it was something he felt the need to acclimate to in the first place. He should have expected this. He should have done more than storm off. Even if all he could think to do right this moment was pick up a rock off the street and hurl it through the shop window. Swallowing his temper also made his throat itch, like trying to drink acid.
The Mourn Watch was an elite group with its internal problems, but they had largely been kind and hosted mages from all walks of life. This was the Nevarra he would never be wholly comfortable in. Lavish, insular, and far too quick to look down its nose at a rough face in plain clothes.
The anger began to abate as Hugh glowered at his feet when a familiar skeletal face popped into view.
"Rook!" Manfred bent sideways and appeared literally under Hugh's nose. Even through his rudimentary grasp of speech, his concern and ever-present excitement at seeing Rook was undeniable. It brought an immediate smile to Hugh's face.
"You followed me outside?" He asked, standing straighter as Manfred hovered beside him.
"Yes!"
"Worried about me?"
"Yes!" The bonehead nodded fast enough that Hugh swore he heard something rattle. Maker, he adored him.
A green glow lit up in the corner of his eye, and both he and Manfred turned to look back at the shop. The afternoon sunlight obscured a clear view through the painted glass, but Emmrich's tall, and now the looming figure was unmissable set against the smaller, cornered one.
"D'you think he's upset?" Hugh asked Manfred mildly as words began to be shouted and people started to slow down on the street.
"Mad!" Manfred clapped delighted. Someone was clearly hoping for fireworks.
Before Hugh knew it, Emmrich had stormed out of the place. Haloed in the remnants of sympathetic magic, his love had an ethereal look beneath all that avenging fury, which melted away in an instant as arms pulled him into an embrace.
"I'm fine, Emmrich," Hugh pulled only as far back as he needed to hold Emmrich's shoulders and look up at him with a deep sense of awe and affection. If there were still interloppers they were thinning out and best ignored. "No sense in ending the day over that little thing."
He was glad Manfred had come out to keep Hugh company. His apprentice was so much more than mere Curiosity anymore, becoming his own individual, and it made him wonder if Keepsake and Curio had gone through similar stages of development. It was something that he kept wondering and not asking because there was something else more important going on, like now. Right now the far more pressing information was how Hugh was doing.
While Hugh could hide his mood far better than Emmrich could ever hope to accomplish, there was enough of a light in his eyes when he looked at Emmrich that 'fine' was believable.
"All right," he said to the assurance. Emmrich cupped the side of his face and leaned in for a gentle, brief brush of their lips. "Your resilience is as beautiful as the rest of you."
Emmrich pulled back the rest of the way, but took Hugh's hand instead of fully releasing the man. This way there was no mistaking their relationship. Not like he thought there would be a repeat. Word spread quickly through Nevarra City and most of the audience had already dispersed. That didn't matter. He wanted his beloved to feel on steady ground, to know that he wasn't alone, and that Emmrich had his back.
"We went to her first simply because she was the closest to the Necropolis, and I'll admit the aesthetic of her building has held some appeal to me. But the artist whose designs I've most liked is this way."
It was only a few minutes away, on a hill ringed with an elaborate wrought-iron fence. The metal of the bars was shaped into incredibly fanciful designs and not just the typical skulls you'd see around the Necropolis -- there were wyverns and dragons, leaves and flowers, and of course skulls and griffons as might be the most relevant to the both of them. The sign near the door was made with spiraled gold that named her as Artisan Orthra.
The slender Dalish woman behind the counter was finishing up with a couple that spoke with Tevene accents when Hugh and Emmrich came in.
"I'll be with you shortly," she said. Her accent was certainly not Tevene. There was a lilting quality to it that Emmrich hadn't heard in Arlathan, or anywhere else for that matter. It was only due to his familiarity with her name that he knew she was from a clan from the Free Marches.
"Of course," was all he said, bowing his head. He guided Hugh toward the case of earrings while they waited, a display that showed off designs both incredibly sturdy, and elegantly delicate, in a vast array of metals. "Here, love. Is there anything that catches your eye?"
And from there they could work on personalization.
The kiss hadn't attracted attention beyond the casual glance from close passersby, and the worry that had roiled inside Hugh's chest had at last quelled. Hugh smiled warmly at the assurance. Emmrich never failed to quiet his fears and his temper as easily as a candle snuffer laid over a flame before it had a chance to grow out of control.
"Let that be a lesson to us both that saving time hardly saves us trouble."
Hugh joked, mentally telling himself that he doubted the woman's skills as a jeweler would have met Emmrich's standards regardless. Not that he knew anything about goldsmithing, but the thought made him feel better. That, and Emmrich's warm hand entwined with his own. Every few steps, Hugh's hand had given its partner a light squeeze, almost reminding himself of Emmrich's touch and presence, like rubbing a lucky coin.
Upon their arrival, Hugh was initially reluctant. The wrought-iron gate and set-apart location had given it a foreboding air. Oddly enough, seeing griffons in the overall design laid some of his fears to rest as he followed Emmrich inside.
Ortha seemed pleasant enough, and he found non-humans less inclined towards looking down their noses across class borders where it didn't immediately concern their own culture. Right away, he caught her accent. As he looked around the store, a few details started to piece themselves together about the artisan. He'd after to ask her when she wasn't busy.
When Emmrich led him over to the display case lined with earrings, a rainbow of precious metals and gemstones made him blink owlishly as if a ray of sunlight streaked across his eyes. The sight at first was overwhelming, but the longer he looked, the less anything appealed to him. Everything was either too intricate or too...loud.
"I don't..." Hugh started as his gaze wandered and landed on a much smaller glass case on a velvet-padded plinth off in a corner. "You're kidding me—"
His eyes widened, and he broke away from Emmrich as if in a trance, beelining it for the more modest display. Inside, in several neat rows, were beads of precious stone inlaid with gold or molded from gold. Sizes ranged from his thumbnail to a peach pit. The quality and material were finer than anything he'd ever seen, but he recognized them for what they were instant.
"There aren't many Fereldens, but when they marry in Nevarran families, I'll usually get an order for those," Orthra called over the counter as the couple she had been speaking to were readying to leave. "Take it they caught your eye?"
Hugh whipped around, startled to be addressed, and only pursed his lips before awkwardly nodding once.
He adored the little hand-squeezes as they walked along, and returned them happily. They were secret little gestures, private reminders of the joy they were celebrating, and lightness returned to his step.
The lightness lingered until he saw how completely everything in the case failed to catch Hugh's interest. The work was gorgeous, there was incredible variation, and it seemed like nothing appealed. Then Hugh went over to a bead display, and Emmrich had to face the question of if he'd be disappointed should Hugh change his mind on the earring.
He came over to look at the case and tried to judge the situation based on what Orthra and Hugh were saying. Hugh had seemed so eager for an earring that Emmrich hadn't even briefly considered he might not wind up wearing coordinating ones with his husband. He'd thought it settled unlike so many other things. Not piercing Hugh's earlobe on his wedding day would be a let down at this point, but somehow he needed to not let on. It was Hugh's body. Emmrich's dream did not override that.
"Fereldan beads? What do they get strung or sewn on?" he asked Hugh.
Adding to the disappointment was the fact that here was something maybe Hugh had wanted all along and just hadn't brought up. Emmrich had made every opening possible for Hugh to have input. He'd asked if there was anything he had left out, anything Hugh would like, and not once had anything like this come up. There was no way to know what he didn't know.
"They're related to weddings?" Or maybe he was jumping to the wrong assumptions and they had nothing to do with planning at all. She had several displays for different sorts of events--no, right, she'd said marry. That's why he'd assumed.
The other couple headed out and the Dalish woman came over, giving them warm smiles. Emmrich managed to return it despite starting to feel tired. At this rate there were going to be things wrong with the wedding in Hugh's eyes and Emmrich would never know until after.
"Nevarran and Fereldan, then?" she asked, looking them over. "What's the time frame we're thinking?"
"Four months?" Emmrich half-said, half-asked. Honestly he'd love to have it the second Hugh came back, but he thought it was likely Hugh would want some recovery time. This gave him a little over a month for that.
"Sometime in late spring," Hugh had answered almost the exact moment Emmrich had said four months. That was near the same timeframe as falling closer to five. For practical reasons, Ferelden weddings were held in late spring and in the height of summer. Hugh just assumed that was the standard practice, so he hadn't thought much about it, even if the Lighthouse was hardly subject to seasons in Thedas.
Orthra cocked her head, clearly picking up on the disconnect in communication between the pair but politely overlooking it in favor of appraising potential clients.
"This set is a commission set aside for a lovely young noblewoman from Gwaren," the artisan said as she moved past Hugh to unlock the case with a delicate-looking key from a ring tied to her apron strings. You're more than welcome to have a look if you're interested in something similar."
Once the glass lifted, Hugh picked up a round bear made from what appeared to be ivory with intricate swirls of gold inlaid throughout. He held it up to a beam of sunlight, his expression a mixture of astonished at the craftsmanship and melancholic at its significance.
"Brides weave these in their hair for the wedding," Hugh explained, glancing in Emmrich's direction before continuing to inspect the bead held between his fingers. "Except these are traditionally made with lacquered clay or animal bone, even if you can afford better. Nevarran influence with the gold, I'm assuming?"
"The purpose is twofold," Ortha answered, nodding as his guess. "A show of status, but eventually, they become grave gold. Are you interested in a set of your own?"
"No, I— it's just I haven't seen those in...wow, not since before the Fifth Blight." Hugh made a thoughtful noise but ultimately set the bead down and carefully closed the case for Ortha to lock again. To himself, Hugh mumbled something about how they shouldn't be gold.
"That explains why I thought your accent was Marcher at first," Ortha said, not remarking on his murmurings or even seeming to notice, looking at him understandingly.
"Wycome," Hugh replied. "Your clan living there long, didn't they?"
Ortha blinked but took the assessment in stride before answering, "Shrewd. What gave me away?"
Hugh gestured to some of her pieces displayed on shelves, mostly ornaments and pottery inlaid with gold designs. "Your wyverns are mostly thin-bodied, with longer snouts. That's been the standard of the Wycome city council since Duke Antoine's passing. Also, a lot of Antivan influence, their biggest trader. Not much Dalish influence, but that reasons because the clans there mostly integrated into the city not long after the Blight."
Hands-on her hips, Ortha looked Hugh up and down before a smile played on her lips.
"Well, well. And here I thought my time in Tevinter hid the drawl. Just for that, the first concept sketch of earrings is free of charge."
Hugh smiled and thanked her before looking back at Emmrich.
"Emmrich? You know more about these sorts of things. What did you have in mind?"
The beads were quite lovely, and Emmrich kept looking at them even as Hugh discussed origins with the artist. This was a significant symptom of their disconnect, he felt. Hugh didn't value his own opinions or desires. It wasn't like Emmrich hadn't pointed it out a dozen times already, or urged Hugh to think about what he wanted. Hugh simply liked to slip into passive mode in their life together anywhere outside of the bedroom and Emmrich had no idea how to emphasize he wanted Hugh's passion in all aspects of their lives.
"Hmm?" he asked when he heard his name, turning his attention back to the conversation. "Ah. Of course."
This wasn't the place or time to be too direct. He didn't want to make Orthra uncomfortable, after all. But he wouldn't allow Hugh to surrender his own wishes.
"Do I know more?" His voice was mild. "This is a permanent body modification. I've never done that before. I think you have a great deal of experience with how personal the process is, as well as some idea of what you want to be a part of it. Let's start there, Hugh, and then I'll add my thoughts."
He gestured back at the earrings. "Some do have a lightweight bead or two dangling from them. There's versatility here, love. Talk to me."
And if this didn't work, maybe he could enlist one or more of their teammates to beat it into Hugh's head that this was for both of them.
Hugh looked back at the display case of earrings, and indeed, some did have beads dangling from thin gold chains like molten teardrops. He shook his head. It was still not right, and Emmrich didn't understand, but that was his own fault. The beads weren't supposed to be gold. If he were even to indulge that tradition, they should be made by the bride or close relative if they weren't passed down.
Talk to me, Emmrich says as if it's the simplest thing in the world. Often — mostly, it was, but as of late, the more they planned around the wedding, Hugh had begun to shy away more and more when his opinion was asked for. As far as romantic entanglements went, this was Hugh's first, and he had always been reliant on deferring to Emmrich on these matters. That had always worked out for the best in the past.
Part of him hoped the wedding planning would be the same. After all, it was only one day — a very important day, the most important day, but still one day. Hugh could swallow his pride, admit he didn't know what to do, and let Emmrich take the reins. His own input could be minor, enough to say he was involved, and as long as Emmrich was happy, then Hugh would be as well. Apparently, that wasn't allowed.
"It's one thing to stumble blind drunk into a tattooist's parlor with your Warden buddies and say 'I want a griffon' and another to get holes in your ears."
Ortha snorts in a politely hidden chuckle before saying, "If I may make a suggestion?"
Hugh looked at her like a line of rope thrown to a drowning man. Yes, please make a suggestion, he begged with his eyes before he further made an ass of himself in front of the man he loved whose dreams were riding on Hugh not being such a provincial lout.
"We could go for a shade of gold that matches those lovely eyes of yours," Ortha pinched her chin and took stock of Hugh as she did so. "Often, the simplest designs are the hardest to get right. Perhaps a more ornamental piece for the piercing on the helix of the ear, say a flared wing, connected by chain to the lobe. That piece, hoop, or stud?"
Hugh hesitated, trying to picture it in his mind's eye.
"I'm not sure about the wing, but a stud, maybe a pendent of some sort?" Again, Hugh looked to Emmrich, waiting for his say and hoping to build off of that.
Surely Hugh had some sort of idea what he'd want, something that had come to his mind's eye. Emmrich was grateful for Orthra giving Hugh guidance to make a first choice. She likely had more than a little experience with indecisive clients. Though Emmrich had to wonder if she'd ever dealt with someone this lacking in personal likes and wants.
"A stud's an excellent choice," he said when cued. Encouragement when Hugh showed a preference should help, had to help, sooner or later, surely. "Hoops can sometimes be unwieldy with the chain."
He stepped closer to Hugh and traced a finger down the man's ear, trying to keep his mind focused on the matter at hand as he did so. "And I believe you have an excellent ear shape and neck length for a pendant, whether you want it at the top or the bottom."
Emmrich glanced over at Orthra, who nodded in confirmation. "What shape speaks to you, or color? What would you enjoy wearing, dearest? This is personal, must be personal. How could someone else dictate what you wear on a daily basis for years to come?" Decades, he wants to say, longs to say, but fears that will set off Hugh's insecurity about Warden lifespans.
"Perhaps let's go with a listing of some favorite things," Orthra suggested. "Colors, symbols that mean something to you, if there's a number you're attached to, things like that? I can do script-work as well if you'd like a word."
Emmrich knew there were a lot of choices. He knew Hugh did not seem to like having options. But this was one thing he couldn't relent on, not when Hugh would hopefully be wearing it the rest of their lives.
Hugh had no idea what he wanted. The artisan's guidance was indeed appreciated, and Hugh comforted himself with the knowledge he was likely not her more indecisive client. If anything, given how nice the store was, he was only her least educated on jewelry and its (apparent) many intricacies in Nevarran culture.
"I didn't know you could have a lovely ear shape," Hugh looked over to Emmrich, the back of his neck flushing at the compliment as strange as it was. Then again, he did use to know one Warden who was a boxer before his Joining with a terrible case of cauliflower ear. Poor bastard would have had a time in a place like this.
Ortha watched Hugh, and again, he was reminded that both she and Emmrich were waiting for his answer. The only thing that sprung to mind was a griffon wing or a leaping mabari—no, Emmrich had enough reasons not to hold the Wardens in high regard, and he certainly made his thoughts on Ferelden known. Hugh didn't feel comfortable with a skull and the Veilguard had no standard of their own to draw from.
"A band flush to the helix of the ear with a short enough chain to a plain stud," Hugh answered in not a clipped tone but in a hurried, eager just to say something to fill the growing silence fashion. "Nothing anyone could easily rip off or catch on my helmet."
There, he voiced a preference and it was serviceably unobtrusive and unobjectionable.
Ortha blinked, then nodded slowly. "I...could do a few rough sketches with that. Any engraving on the band?"
Dammit. Hugh looked back at Emmrich and found nothing to draw from there and instead said,
That was something, at least. A start. Very basic, though. They definitely need to talk. Emmrich will work with Hugh on that later.
"I'll match with a stud, but a wider, flat one, engraved." He pulled a piece of paper out of his pouch on which he'd written in the Necropolis' tomb writing. It was more simple than most examples, being only four letters, but he knew it unlikely either of the people here in the shop could read it.
"Whichever gold you think would work best for me, a longer chain, and the band... Mm." He looked at the case before pointing. "I like the woven look of that. Could the weaving connect the beetle of the Mourn Watch in front, and a skull at that back, or would that be too complicated?"
Orthra raised an eyebrow before pulling out the indicated band. "The skull would be unseen, and too much there could make the band overly heavy. I'd suggest just the beetle in front, or... The stud could be the beetle, and this," she tapped the paper, "could be in the band to keep with the woven effect. It would look cleaner."
Emmrich nodded. "Excellent. And we'll hold off on any additional colors until he has an idea about the pendant on his, if that works?"
She smiled. "Of course. Send a message tomorrow with the rest of the details and I'll have a sketch by the end of the day after, if that works."
"Perfectly. Thank you very much." Emmrich bowed. She bowed back, and Emmrich nodded toward the door with a glance at Hugh to see if he was ready to go as well.
There was no hiding Hugh's curiosity as he craned his neck to peer at the slip of paper Emmrich produced. Ah, it was tomb writing. That was to be expected, but Hugh couldn't stamp down the sinking disappointment in himself for not having bothered to brush up on the script beyond the cursory. Was he supposed to know what it said? Was this a cultural blunder if he didn't know? Maybe Emmrich was the only one who was supposed to know, but that wouldn't make sense.
Thoughts racing a mile a minute, Hugh almost hadn't noticed Emmrich's silent nudge towards the door. Eager to stop feeling like dead weight, Hugh gave his hurried but genuine thanks to the artisan as he followed Emmrich out. Unable to shake the feeling for all he learned, he was still well in the dark.
Once outside, Manfred was waiting for them by the gate. Curiosity had found its cat, and Manfred spent his time waiting for them while having a spirited back-and-forth with an orange tabby large enough to be confused for a dog. (What "Cat!" and "Meow!" passed for in the way of conversation, anyway, but Manfred seemed to be enjoying himself.) Gemstone eyes swiveled on the pair of them, and Manfred rushed to them.
"'Lo," Hugh greeted with a wide smile as he opened the gate for Emmrich, who he turned to and asked, "Should we stop somewhere for lunch? You never told me your thoughts on the dinner menu, and I'd hate to have that conversation on an empty stomach."
Was this a ploy to change the subject and avoid being needled about his behavior at the jewelers? Maybe.
He'd noted Hugh's curiosity. If his love asked, he'd answer, but it was meant to be semi-private even as it was public. Hugh would need to want to know to find out. Much like Hugh needed to want in general.
Which flowed perfectly into what Hugh did ask.
"Let's. I know an excellent place nearby." He hadn't been in quite some time; it had been a favorite of Johanna's as well. One day he'd make new memories there, but that wasn't his intention today.
There was probably something off in his usual smile and voice He was very bad at subterfuge. But he smiled anyway, mostly at peace.
"Thank you for coming promptly, Manfred," he said, and then lead the way, taking idly about this and that business as they passed them, trying not to give Hugh too much of ask opening to probe until they reached the restaurant.
For once, Emmrich gestured to the menu outside instead of just leading them in. The menu is written in Trade as well as Nevarran, and it announces the place as a Stewsian House - fusion stew - restaurant, mixing cultures and flavors for a unique, new experience. There's not a single one that doesn't have something sweet among the savory ingredients.
"Unless you actually have a preference," Emmrich says in his lecturing voice. "What would you actually like, or are you absolutely determined to bury yourself to be as discouragingly neutral as possible? Until I must ask if you actually want anything at all, or are merely going along the easiest path?"
He's keeping his voice quiet. He doesn't want to cause a scene. But this continued insistence of not having an opinion is wearing him down. Does Hugh even want to marry him, or is this the simplest way in his eyes to continue what they have?
"There are other restaurants near here that are excellent, if there's any preferences you'd like to voice or indulge."
For the duration of their walk, Hugh had noticed the subtle off-beats to Emmrich's mannerisms. With a twist of guilt, Hugh had made the assumption Emmrich was less than thrilled with how little progress they made today. When Emmrich hadn't moved to take his hand, Hugh shoved them both in the pockets of his coat.
Emmrich liked to talk; that wasn't anything new, but once they were on their way, it was less conversation and more running monologue. Hugh couldn't get a word in edgewise the few times he tried. It wasn't as if Emmrich was purposefully interrupting him. The way he carried on, Hugh couldn't speak without feeling he was cutting him off or missing something. So, instead, he fell silent the rest of the way.
When they arrived in front of a nice-looking restaurant, Hugh stopped halfway to the entrance. Emmrich directed him to the menu set up outside. Confused but amenable to getting an idea of what he wanted, Hugh started to read through the Trade descriptions of everything listed.
It took everything in Hugh not to let his expression curdle like sour milk when he saw everything had some stewed fruit or nutty element to it. Given his appetite and a life that was short on options, Hugh wasn't one to turn his nose up at much, but he hated most nuts and detested stewed or candied fruits. Emmrich knew this, Emmrich often went out of his way to-
Emmrich was playing him like a fiddle. The moment Emmrich's tone shifted from fiance to professor, Hugh knew he had been cornered into something he would have cared to avoid.
'Discouragingly neutral as possible?' Was that really what this was all about? Hugh wanted to avoid conflict and wanted Emmrich to be happy, and now it sounded like he was being accused of sabotage. Just because Emmrich dreamed of this for so many years and Hugh was out of his depth didn't mean-
Well, fine, in for a copper in for a crown.
The muscles in Hugh's jaw tightened as he squared his shoulders like a man digging his heels in and bracing himself.
"Actually, Emmrich, I'm happy to try something new. Lead the way." His voice was flatly pleasant, all in the tone and none of it in his expression.
He looked at Hugh, saw the stubbornness set in, and closed his eyes. He'd meant this to prove a point, not to force the man into something he'd hate. With a sigh, he shook his head and reopened his eyes.
"Why should both of us suffer?" Emmrich's voice was resigned. "We're not eating here. I think I'll head home to eat, unless you do have something you want. If you even know what you want. Manfred?"
The skeleton looked between them. He could tell something was wrong, but Emmrich knew it was unlikely Manfred would understand what specifically was off. This was a very mortal sort of issue. He held out his hand, and Manfred took it.
"At this point I can't tell if you want to marry me, Hugh. And I'm worried that you may not even know. At every point, even when there's something in your expression that says you have an opinion, a wish, you stay quiet. You hold back. As if... I don't know. That's the problem. Do you feel your wants don't matter as much as mine, when we're in a partnership that's supposed to be equals? Do you not trust yourself? Do you not trust me to be able to say if something matters? Have you spent so long at the command of others and then the world's needs that you don't know yourself?"
Emmrich sighed again. "I want you, but even more than that I need you to be happy. And you are clearly determined to sabotage your joy as if that might make me happy, which it will not. Even if it seems minor to you, I cannot be part of you harming yourself. I will not. I love you."
And then he waited. Either they'd continue the day with Hugh voicing a preference, or he'd head back to the Necropolis with Manfred in tow. There was always more work he could be doing, and he'd throw himself into that to ignore the fact that they just couldn't seem to get on the same page, couldn't seem to communicate.
"Suffer—?" Rook repeated as if doing so would apply some sense to what he was hearing.
In both comportment and tone, Emmrich had already started to retreat into that withdrawn way he did, as if he had already decided how this discussion would end. No doubt, within the split second he spoke his piece, the man had already combed through a hundred outcomes and firmly landed on the worst one. That was never a good sign.
Hugh wasn't sure what stung more the longer Emmrich continued. It was now laid out before him that Emmrich thought he didn't just lack preference but even the capacity to do so. Or seeing Manfred at Emmrich's side, appearing the united front with Hugh standing on the outside.
At that moment, it wasn't anger Hugh felt. Only the creeping dread of being of his back against the wall and no way out but forward where neither of them comes out unscathed. Hugh took in a deep breath and hoped someday Emmrich would forgive him.
"Fine, I'll stop holding back," He took his hands out of his pockets as if in surrender. "This entire time, we've been planning a wedding you've wanted most of your life, and I've never even considered within the realms of possibility until less than a month ago. That first artesian was right, you know. To look at me as if I were some uninformed peasant from nowhere, because that's what I am, Emmrich.
You're parading patterns and crystalware, and Maker knows what else, like I'm expected to make heads or tails of any of it. I don't say anything because I trust you, and I want this to go right.
You know what? I wanted a griffon wing as part of the earring. I even thought about the beads, but I know how you feel about the origins of both those things, and it's enough to have that argument, but I am just—"
Hugh fought to keep his voice low enough that only direct passersby could hear. That he could manage, but he couldn't hide the tremor in his voice or the way his lip quivered.
"Sometimes you conflate my contentment with the simple as this...punishment I'm inflicting on myself, but it's not. I just don't have the life experience you do and the only one who forgets that is you.
Emmrich, I just didn't want to upset what you've already had in mind for so long. I would be happy with the most Nevarran wedding to ever...Nevarra or whatever, or just the two of us in a church basement hurriedly going through vows overseen by a nun I bribed with a silver piece. Because it's one day, and then after, I get you forever."
Hugh looked between Emmrich and Manfred, shoulders hunched and hands back into his pockets, and started to turn.
"Wait. Please." There was a lot to process there. Finally Hugh was talking, and while Emmrich felt some of his thoughts and fears were confirmed by it, some of what he said was a surprise as well.
"The Wardens, yes, I resent what they've done to you, but they're an important order, and they are a part of who you are. Just the same, our recent trip to Ferelden was not a pleasant one, but I do not actually hate the country and it is also a part of you. The earring should reflect you; it should have them if you'd like them.
"And you are so much more than someone who should be dismissed, Hugh. You are everything to me. The reason I keep bringing other things out, other choices, is because, it's not a parade. It's because this is us both. I want pieces of both of us in this, Hugh. I want... That's what I want, with this wedding. It's us. But I apologize, too."
Emmrich looked down. "I do forget that you haven't had the opportunity to pursue life and interests much before, and that the freedom I've known is rare. I'm sorry. Can we have lunch and then perhaps go over what does matter to you? I'll pull together the rest and run it by you, but I won't force you to go in-depth on the details you truly don't care about. "
And then, despite how he wanted to pull Hugh close, he let go of his love's arm. He could not force Hugh to talk, or to forgive him.
The moment Emmrich's hand was on him, Hugh stilled. Emmrich had a profound talent for needing only to crook his finger into the fabric of his sleeve, and Hugh would have stopped dead even if he had been moving at a breakneck pace.
Hugh watches with widened eyes and a slightly parted mouth as Emmrich speaks — not shocked, but he does have the look of someone absorbing a tremendous amount of information all at once. The world around them may as well have fallen behind a curtain, his attention squarely on the man in front of him.
When Emmrich's hand fell away, Hugh was there to catch it. With a gentle squeeze, he drew his love's hand up and kissed the back of his knuckles, skin pale and cool in the late winter air.
"Then stop acting as if you're doing wrong by me by not draping me in gold or not getting my final say on if I want brocade or damask patterned table runners as if I even know what those are," Hugh offered a wane smile and huffed an airy chuckle. "That isn't who I am, and you're not failing me by taking the lead here."
Hugh took a step back with his hand still firmly in Emmrich's as if wanting to take the sight of him in, a warm smile playing across his face.
—And then his stomach growled and Hugh really did laugh.
"Right," His face tinged a faint pink. "Let's go to lunch, and after you take Manfred home, I'll return to the jewelers to go over things in better detail, alright?"
There was a pause, and then, "Is that restaurant with the whole chickens on spits nearby? I think I need to eat a whole fucking bird at this rate."
The kiss was a relief, and Emmrich looked back up in time to catch Hugh starting to smile. He gave his partner's hand a squeeze... and then gave him a smirk as Hugh's stomach spoke up.
"Yes, to all of that. This way." Holding Hugh's hand on one side and Manfred's on the other, Emmrich turned and started heading them in the right direction. "Whatever color you choose for the bead, let her know I'd like the skull on my earring to match. Stone, though, not glass. The more unruly undead seem quite skilled at finding anything fragile and taking advantage of that."
"Unruly," Manfred cheerfully echoed.
It was another reason for things to be gold and substantial. He could broach the topic of why giving Hugh gold would matter to him if Hugh would just let him later. Death was a grave topic, and that was a sentence he could never speak out loud unless he was prepared for dozens of jokes.
Emmrich got an odd look when they arrived at the restaurant; it tended to cater more toward tourists seeing as it so heavily featured meat. And it was one he'd never come to alone. But they did have an excellent assortment of vegetarian appetizers, and he was happy to order the meal option of them when the server came by with menus. Manfred also was getting sideways glances, which was privately amusing to Emmrich. Likely it wasn't entirely easy to eat meat when a skeleton was sitting at a table near you, happily swinging his feet and playing with a napkin.
He pulled some paper, a quill, and a portable inkpot out of Manfred's backpack once the server was gone.
"So what details regarding the wedding matter to you? Obviously non-vegetarian meal options. What else?"
"Properly made, clay lasts longer than you think," Hugh didn't so much as argue and more stated a fact. "Not to mention, I'll need to think about the beads altogether. It's traditionally something passed down from mother to daughter and within the bride's family. Not to mention, I don't have much to work with."
At that, Hugh blew a stubborn lock curled over his forehead away before running his free hand through his thick but neatly short hair. On Emmrich's other side, Manfred did the most peculiar thing and mimicked the gesture with his gloved hand over his bony pate. On it was more stilted, thoughtful. It was as though it was just occurring to Manfred that he lacked something that Hugh and Emmrich had.
"Hair!" Manfred said, which was impressive because Hugh didn't even say 'hair' for him to parrot back.
"You're right, Manfred; I should be more considerate to those less hirsute than I."
Neither Manfred nor Hugh had been altogether concerned with any curious stares; Manfred because the napkins came folded in the shape of swans, which fascinated him, and Hugh because he had no current focus beyond his stomach. The server needed some convincing from Hugh when he said that, yes, the order of two roast chickens were for him and not the table.
"Am I that obvious?" Hugh smirked as he considered the question. Well, I could handle the wine selection. I'm sure Lucanis and Viago would be amenable to help there, and I'll speak to my contacts back at the Keep and see about having the Chantry there in some unofficial capacity that won't cause a stir."
The last part was said casually, Hugh trying to let the topic air out in the open.
"Oh, no," he corrects quickly. "I meant stone for mine. I didn't know what the beads were made of, but you're not the one that sometimes leans over a corpse to better hear what it says, putting something dangling possibly in biting range. But if you choose against the bead that's fine. What do you mean by you don't have much to work with?"
Family seemed like a separate thought from that. For not the first time Emmrich wonders if he should be so presumptuous as to disrupt his parents' rest for this and dismisses the thought. They deserved peace. It would be selfish of him to pull them back for a wedding when he'd been a part of their lives for such a short time. He'd had Manfred for longer than he'd known them.
And Manfred was developing by leaps and bounds, mimicking them both now but learning from it. Manfred was enough family, Manfred and Hugh. He was not alone.
As Hugh talked Emmrich nodded, pausing to take a slow breath before nodding at the last. The Chantry mattered to Hugh, and they'd hold no authority in the Lighthouse.
"What capacity were you considering?" His tone was light. Yes, their presence would make him a little nervous, but again, it wasn't like he'd be alone. It wasn't like they'd have the opportunity to do something, likely. Emmrich just didn't want his wedding overshadowed by lectures about knowing his place as a mage.
"You know I'm not terribly fond of the idea of you in biting range of any mouth other than my own, but workplace hazards be what they may." Hugh kept his voice low. He had never gone about gauging Manfred's range of hearing, but he played it safe all the time.
"Braids," A tug at a lock of hair at his temple too short for anything than maybe a single bead to demonstrate. "Can't do anything with this."
Their lunch came as they talked. The server clearly got the impression the conversation was more personal than the day-to-day chatter of their usual patrons and left as soon as the plates hit the table. Hugh was popping the drumstick out of its socket when Emmrich asked about what he had in mind.
My sister, The thought came out of nowhere, but Hugh had figured this would be around the time he would start getting sentimental, nostalgic — overly hopeful. Having no idea if she was still in the church, even alive, and more besides if she would have anything to do with him. That was all it was — just a thought.
"Hmm? Oh—" It was then Hugh realized he had gone quiet for a moment longer than awkward and had been mindlessly pushing his rice pilaf around with his fork. He cleared his throat to buy himself another second or two. "Only a blessing, before the ceremony perhaps. I was going to see who would be available and more in line with the modern way of things."
His eyes sparkled. It had been a while since he'd had a trail of bites down his skin from Hugh; he might be overdue. The look settled at the touch of Hugh's hair.
"Ah, for some reason I was associating the beads with the mention of a possible pendant earlier. I'm certain that if you do want to try them, one of our friends will be able to help with your short hair."
There was a nice peace to the meal, but there was also an air of melancholy to it. Perhaps Emmrich was projecting. It could be only him feeling that way. He didn't think so, though. Not with how Hugh was playing with his food. A grain of rice had escaped and Manfred had claimed it for his napkin swan which was attempting to eat it.
Emmrich reached over to rest a hand on Hugh's shoulder. "Where are your thoughts, love?" A blessing should be all right. He'd probably ask to see it first, but Hugh knows more now about where Chantry doctrine might be hurtful toward mages.
"I'm sure they would," Hugh said neutrally as he quietly decided to himself that he would not be doing that.
Any of their friends would mean well, but it wouldn't be the same. It was times like these when he felt Harding's absences more deeply than just an abiding sense of loss. They had never spoken much of their shared homeland, and Rook hadn't been to Ferelden since he was young, but there would have been mutual understanding. An awareness of things the others simply lacked and through no fault of their own. Even Emmrich didn't quite grasp the cultural significance, but that was neither here nor there. For now, he was content with the earrings and had two whole months to sort out his thoughts in his own time.
The warmth from Emmrich's hand seeps through Hugh's coat, and he centers himself back to the present. He reached over and gave Emmrich's hand a reassuring pat.
"Just a lot to consider," Hugh said. "We can go over the finer details in private."
The neutrality and lack of answer said there was more going on that Hugh wasn't saying. Emmrich reminded himself that he needed to be patient, or at least try to be patient, as he took Hugh's hand in his. They'd taken a step forward with communication today. There were more steps to take.
"Of course. Are you finished eating? Not to rush you, as there's nothing pressing on our time today. I merely noticed that you haven't taken a bite in a time. If you are we can head back--Rather, I can head back home while you stop to speak about the earrings again, and by the time you return I'll have a list of vegetarian dishes so you have time to contemplate wines?"
And he might change. The talk of bites hadn't left his mind. But he might also speak with Myrna and see how she felt regarding his parents. He probably would not bring them back, he felt guilt at the thought of it, but there was an undeniable longing there.
Guilt sank into Hugh's stomach, heavier than anything he had eaten. Even as Emmrich observed he hadn't touched his food after some time, Hugh felt compelled to stab a forkful of whatever was in front of him. Almost out of some compulsion to avoid letting Emmrich think he had lost his appetite, always a sign Hugh was off-centered.
After fighting down the urge to choke on a mouthful of pilaf, Hugh set his fork down and gave Emmrich a reassuring smile. Things were heading in the right direction, maybe not all at once, but he held firm to that.
"Sure, think I terrorized the staff enough," Hugh tried for a joke, even though that approach rarely worked with Emmrich. "I'd best leave before they worry I'll finish off the flock."
Rook stood and slipped back into his jacket. Reaching across the table, he rubbed the ivory surface of Manfred's pate. An approximation of tousling hair playfully if the spirited skeleton possessed any hair to speak of. Manfred seemed to enjoy the gesture with a delighted his as he wiggled in his seat.
"Might take a short walk, but I'll head over to the jewelers, then head back," He said to Emmrich before leaning down to kiss his cheek. "Thank you for lunch, love. It won't take long. We can go over a wine list tonight, maybe see what we already have, rehearse the honeymoon later, and whatever else is on the itinerary. See you soon."
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Hugh didn't know which was worse — the fact he should be used to this by now or that it was something he felt the need to acclimate to in the first place. He should have expected this. He should have done more than storm off. Even if all he could think to do right this moment was pick up a rock off the street and hurl it through the shop window. Swallowing his temper also made his throat itch, like trying to drink acid.
The Mourn Watch was an elite group with its internal problems, but they had largely been kind and hosted mages from all walks of life. This was the Nevarra he would never be wholly comfortable in. Lavish, insular, and far too quick to look down its nose at a rough face in plain clothes.
The anger began to abate as Hugh glowered at his feet when a familiar skeletal face popped into view.
"Rook!" Manfred bent sideways and appeared literally under Hugh's nose. Even through his rudimentary grasp of speech, his concern and ever-present excitement at seeing Rook was undeniable. It brought an immediate smile to Hugh's face.
"You followed me outside?" He asked, standing straighter as Manfred hovered beside him.
"Yes!"
"Worried about me?"
"Yes!" The bonehead nodded fast enough that Hugh swore he heard something rattle. Maker, he adored him.
A green glow lit up in the corner of his eye, and both he and Manfred turned to look back at the shop. The afternoon sunlight obscured a clear view through the painted glass, but Emmrich's tall, and now the looming figure was unmissable set against the smaller, cornered one.
"D'you think he's upset?" Hugh asked Manfred mildly as words began to be shouted and people started to slow down on the street.
"Mad!" Manfred clapped delighted. Someone was clearly hoping for fireworks.
Before Hugh knew it, Emmrich had stormed out of the place. Haloed in the remnants of sympathetic magic, his love had an ethereal look beneath all that avenging fury, which melted away in an instant as arms pulled him into an embrace.
"I'm fine, Emmrich," Hugh pulled only as far back as he needed to hold Emmrich's shoulders and look up at him with a deep sense of awe and affection. If there were still interloppers they were thinning out and best ignored. "No sense in ending the day over that little thing."
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While Hugh could hide his mood far better than Emmrich could ever hope to accomplish, there was enough of a light in his eyes when he looked at Emmrich that 'fine' was believable.
"All right," he said to the assurance. Emmrich cupped the side of his face and leaned in for a gentle, brief brush of their lips. "Your resilience is as beautiful as the rest of you."
Emmrich pulled back the rest of the way, but took Hugh's hand instead of fully releasing the man. This way there was no mistaking their relationship. Not like he thought there would be a repeat. Word spread quickly through Nevarra City and most of the audience had already dispersed. That didn't matter. He wanted his beloved to feel on steady ground, to know that he wasn't alone, and that Emmrich had his back.
"We went to her first simply because she was the closest to the Necropolis, and I'll admit the aesthetic of her building has held some appeal to me. But the artist whose designs I've most liked is this way."
It was only a few minutes away, on a hill ringed with an elaborate wrought-iron fence. The metal of the bars was shaped into incredibly fanciful designs and not just the typical skulls you'd see around the Necropolis -- there were wyverns and dragons, leaves and flowers, and of course skulls and griffons as might be the most relevant to the both of them. The sign near the door was made with spiraled gold that named her as Artisan Orthra.
The slender Dalish woman behind the counter was finishing up with a couple that spoke with Tevene accents when Hugh and Emmrich came in.
"I'll be with you shortly," she said. Her accent was certainly not Tevene. There was a lilting quality to it that Emmrich hadn't heard in Arlathan, or anywhere else for that matter. It was only due to his familiarity with her name that he knew she was from a clan from the Free Marches.
"Of course," was all he said, bowing his head. He guided Hugh toward the case of earrings while they waited, a display that showed off designs both incredibly sturdy, and elegantly delicate, in a vast array of metals. "Here, love. Is there anything that catches your eye?"
And from there they could work on personalization.
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"Let that be a lesson to us both that saving time hardly saves us trouble."
Hugh joked, mentally telling himself that he doubted the woman's skills as a jeweler would have met Emmrich's standards regardless. Not that he knew anything about goldsmithing, but the thought made him feel better. That, and Emmrich's warm hand entwined with his own. Every few steps, Hugh's hand had given its partner a light squeeze, almost reminding himself of Emmrich's touch and presence, like rubbing a lucky coin.
Upon their arrival, Hugh was initially reluctant. The wrought-iron gate and set-apart location had given it a foreboding air. Oddly enough, seeing griffons in the overall design laid some of his fears to rest as he followed Emmrich inside.
Ortha seemed pleasant enough, and he found non-humans less inclined towards looking down their noses across class borders where it didn't immediately concern their own culture. Right away, he caught her accent. As he looked around the store, a few details started to piece themselves together about the artisan. He'd after to ask her when she wasn't busy.
When Emmrich led him over to the display case lined with earrings, a rainbow of precious metals and gemstones made him blink owlishly as if a ray of sunlight streaked across his eyes. The sight at first was overwhelming, but the longer he looked, the less anything appealed to him. Everything was either too intricate or too...loud.
"I don't..." Hugh started as his gaze wandered and landed on a much smaller glass case on a velvet-padded plinth off in a corner. "You're kidding me—"
His eyes widened, and he broke away from Emmrich as if in a trance, beelining it for the more modest display. Inside, in several neat rows, were beads of precious stone inlaid with gold or molded from gold. Sizes ranged from his thumbnail to a peach pit. The quality and material were finer than anything he'd ever seen, but he recognized them for what they were instant.
"There aren't many Fereldens, but when they marry in Nevarran families, I'll usually get an order for those," Orthra called over the counter as the couple she had been speaking to were readying to leave. "Take it they caught your eye?"
Hugh whipped around, startled to be addressed, and only pursed his lips before awkwardly nodding once.
"Been a while, is all."
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The lightness lingered until he saw how completely everything in the case failed to catch Hugh's interest. The work was gorgeous, there was incredible variation, and it seemed like nothing appealed. Then Hugh went over to a bead display, and Emmrich had to face the question of if he'd be disappointed should Hugh change his mind on the earring.
He came over to look at the case and tried to judge the situation based on what Orthra and Hugh were saying. Hugh had seemed so eager for an earring that Emmrich hadn't even briefly considered he might not wind up wearing coordinating ones with his husband. He'd thought it settled unlike so many other things. Not piercing Hugh's earlobe on his wedding day would be a let down at this point, but somehow he needed to not let on. It was Hugh's body. Emmrich's dream did not override that.
"Fereldan beads? What do they get strung or sewn on?" he asked Hugh.
Adding to the disappointment was the fact that here was something maybe Hugh had wanted all along and just hadn't brought up. Emmrich had made every opening possible for Hugh to have input. He'd asked if there was anything he had left out, anything Hugh would like, and not once had anything like this come up. There was no way to know what he didn't know.
"They're related to weddings?" Or maybe he was jumping to the wrong assumptions and they had nothing to do with planning at all. She had several displays for different sorts of events--no, right, she'd said marry. That's why he'd assumed.
The other couple headed out and the Dalish woman came over, giving them warm smiles. Emmrich managed to return it despite starting to feel tired. At this rate there were going to be things wrong with the wedding in Hugh's eyes and Emmrich would never know until after.
"Nevarran and Fereldan, then?" she asked, looking them over. "What's the time frame we're thinking?"
"Four months?" Emmrich half-said, half-asked. Honestly he'd love to have it the second Hugh came back, but he thought it was likely Hugh would want some recovery time. This gave him a little over a month for that.
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Orthra cocked her head, clearly picking up on the disconnect in communication between the pair but politely overlooking it in favor of appraising potential clients.
"This set is a commission set aside for a lovely young noblewoman from Gwaren," the artisan said as she moved past Hugh to unlock the case with a delicate-looking key from a ring tied to her apron strings. You're more than welcome to have a look if you're interested in something similar."
Once the glass lifted, Hugh picked up a round bear made from what appeared to be ivory with intricate swirls of gold inlaid throughout. He held it up to a beam of sunlight, his expression a mixture of astonished at the craftsmanship and melancholic at its significance.
"Brides weave these in their hair for the wedding," Hugh explained, glancing in Emmrich's direction before continuing to inspect the bead held between his fingers. "Except these are traditionally made with lacquered clay or animal bone, even if you can afford better. Nevarran influence with the gold, I'm assuming?"
"The purpose is twofold," Ortha answered, nodding as his guess. "A show of status, but eventually, they become grave gold. Are you interested in a set of your own?"
"No, I— it's just I haven't seen those in...wow, not since before the Fifth Blight." Hugh made a thoughtful noise but ultimately set the bead down and carefully closed the case for Ortha to lock again. To himself, Hugh mumbled something about how they shouldn't be gold.
"That explains why I thought your accent was Marcher at first," Ortha said, not remarking on his murmurings or even seeming to notice, looking at him understandingly.
"Wycome," Hugh replied. "Your clan living there long, didn't they?"
Ortha blinked but took the assessment in stride before answering, "Shrewd. What gave me away?"
Hugh gestured to some of her pieces displayed on shelves, mostly ornaments and pottery inlaid with gold designs. "Your wyverns are mostly thin-bodied, with longer snouts. That's been the standard of the Wycome city council since Duke Antoine's passing. Also, a lot of Antivan influence, their biggest trader. Not much Dalish influence, but that reasons because the clans there mostly integrated into the city not long after the Blight."
Hands-on her hips, Ortha looked Hugh up and down before a smile played on her lips.
"Well, well. And here I thought my time in Tevinter hid the drawl. Just for that, the first concept sketch of earrings is free of charge."
Hugh smiled and thanked her before looking back at Emmrich.
"Emmrich? You know more about these sorts of things. What did you have in mind?"
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"Hmm?" he asked when he heard his name, turning his attention back to the conversation. "Ah. Of course."
This wasn't the place or time to be too direct. He didn't want to make Orthra uncomfortable, after all. But he wouldn't allow Hugh to surrender his own wishes.
"Do I know more?" His voice was mild. "This is a permanent body modification. I've never done that before. I think you have a great deal of experience with how personal the process is, as well as some idea of what you want to be a part of it. Let's start there, Hugh, and then I'll add my thoughts."
He gestured back at the earrings. "Some do have a lightweight bead or two dangling from them. There's versatility here, love. Talk to me."
And if this didn't work, maybe he could enlist one or more of their teammates to beat it into Hugh's head that this was for both of them.
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Talk to me, Emmrich says as if it's the simplest thing in the world. Often — mostly, it was, but as of late, the more they planned around the wedding, Hugh had begun to shy away more and more when his opinion was asked for. As far as romantic entanglements went, this was Hugh's first, and he had always been reliant on deferring to Emmrich on these matters. That had always worked out for the best in the past.
Part of him hoped the wedding planning would be the same. After all, it was only one day — a very important day, the most important day, but still one day. Hugh could swallow his pride, admit he didn't know what to do, and let Emmrich take the reins. His own input could be minor, enough to say he was involved, and as long as Emmrich was happy, then Hugh would be as well. Apparently, that wasn't allowed.
"It's one thing to stumble blind drunk into a tattooist's parlor with your Warden buddies and say 'I want a griffon' and another to get holes in your ears."
Ortha snorts in a politely hidden chuckle before saying, "If I may make a suggestion?"
Hugh looked at her like a line of rope thrown to a drowning man. Yes, please make a suggestion, he begged with his eyes before he further made an ass of himself in front of the man he loved whose dreams were riding on Hugh not being such a provincial lout.
"We could go for a shade of gold that matches those lovely eyes of yours," Ortha pinched her chin and took stock of Hugh as she did so. "Often, the simplest designs are the hardest to get right. Perhaps a more ornamental piece for the piercing on the helix of the ear, say a flared wing, connected by chain to the lobe. That piece, hoop, or stud?"
Hugh hesitated, trying to picture it in his mind's eye.
"I'm not sure about the wing, but a stud, maybe a pendent of some sort?" Again, Hugh looked to Emmrich, waiting for his say and hoping to build off of that.
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"A stud's an excellent choice," he said when cued. Encouragement when Hugh showed a preference should help, had to help, sooner or later, surely. "Hoops can sometimes be unwieldy with the chain."
He stepped closer to Hugh and traced a finger down the man's ear, trying to keep his mind focused on the matter at hand as he did so. "And I believe you have an excellent ear shape and neck length for a pendant, whether you want it at the top or the bottom."
Emmrich glanced over at Orthra, who nodded in confirmation. "What shape speaks to you, or color? What would you enjoy wearing, dearest? This is personal, must be personal. How could someone else dictate what you wear on a daily basis for years to come?" Decades, he wants to say, longs to say, but fears that will set off Hugh's insecurity about Warden lifespans.
"Perhaps let's go with a listing of some favorite things," Orthra suggested. "Colors, symbols that mean something to you, if there's a number you're attached to, things like that? I can do script-work as well if you'd like a word."
Emmrich knew there were a lot of choices. He knew Hugh did not seem to like having options. But this was one thing he couldn't relent on, not when Hugh would hopefully be wearing it the rest of their lives.
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"I didn't know you could have a lovely ear shape," Hugh looked over to Emmrich, the back of his neck flushing at the compliment as strange as it was. Then again, he did use to know one Warden who was a boxer before his Joining with a terrible case of cauliflower ear. Poor bastard would have had a time in a place like this.
Ortha watched Hugh, and again, he was reminded that both she and Emmrich were waiting for his answer. The only thing that sprung to mind was a griffon wing or a leaping mabari—no, Emmrich had enough reasons not to hold the Wardens in high regard, and he certainly made his thoughts on Ferelden known. Hugh didn't feel comfortable with a skull and the Veilguard had no standard of their own to draw from.
"A band flush to the helix of the ear with a short enough chain to a plain stud," Hugh answered in not a clipped tone but in a hurried, eager just to say something to fill the growing silence fashion. "Nothing anyone could easily rip off or catch on my helmet."
There, he voiced a preference and it was serviceably unobtrusive and unobjectionable.
Ortha blinked, then nodded slowly. "I...could do a few rough sketches with that. Any engraving on the band?"
Dammit. Hugh looked back at Emmrich and found nothing to draw from there and instead said,
"I'll sleep on it."
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"I'll match with a stud, but a wider, flat one, engraved." He pulled a piece of paper out of his pouch on which he'd written in the Necropolis' tomb writing. It was more simple than most examples, being only four letters, but he knew it unlikely either of the people here in the shop could read it.
"Whichever gold you think would work best for me, a longer chain, and the band... Mm." He looked at the case before pointing. "I like the woven look of that. Could the weaving connect the beetle of the Mourn Watch in front, and a skull at that back, or would that be too complicated?"
Orthra raised an eyebrow before pulling out the indicated band. "The skull would be unseen, and too much there could make the band overly heavy. I'd suggest just the beetle in front, or... The stud could be the beetle, and this," she tapped the paper, "could be in the band to keep with the woven effect. It would look cleaner."
Emmrich nodded. "Excellent. And we'll hold off on any additional colors until he has an idea about the pendant on his, if that works?"
She smiled. "Of course. Send a message tomorrow with the rest of the details and I'll have a sketch by the end of the day after, if that works."
"Perfectly. Thank you very much." Emmrich bowed. She bowed back, and Emmrich nodded toward the door with a glance at Hugh to see if he was ready to go as well.
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Thoughts racing a mile a minute, Hugh almost hadn't noticed Emmrich's silent nudge towards the door. Eager to stop feeling like dead weight, Hugh gave his hurried but genuine thanks to the artisan as he followed Emmrich out. Unable to shake the feeling for all he learned, he was still well in the dark.
Once outside, Manfred was waiting for them by the gate. Curiosity had found its cat, and Manfred spent his time waiting for them while having a spirited back-and-forth with an orange tabby large enough to be confused for a dog. (What "Cat!" and "Meow!" passed for in the way of conversation, anyway, but Manfred seemed to be enjoying himself.) Gemstone eyes swiveled on the pair of them, and Manfred rushed to them.
"'Lo," Hugh greeted with a wide smile as he opened the gate for Emmrich, who he turned to and asked, "Should we stop somewhere for lunch? You never told me your thoughts on the dinner menu, and I'd hate to have that conversation on an empty stomach."
Was this a ploy to change the subject and avoid being needled about his behavior at the jewelers? Maybe.
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Which flowed perfectly into what Hugh did ask.
"Let's. I know an excellent place nearby." He hadn't been in quite some time; it had been a favorite of Johanna's as well. One day he'd make new memories there, but that wasn't his intention today.
There was probably something off in his usual smile and voice
He was very bad at subterfuge. But he smiled anyway, mostly at peace.
"Thank you for coming promptly, Manfred," he said, and then lead the way, taking idly about this and that business as they passed them, trying not to give Hugh too much of ask opening to probe until they reached the restaurant.
For once, Emmrich gestured to the menu outside instead of just leading them in. The menu is written in Trade as well as Nevarran, and it announces the place as a Stewsian House - fusion stew - restaurant, mixing cultures and flavors for a unique, new experience. There's not a single one that doesn't have something sweet among the savory ingredients.
"Unless you actually have a preference," Emmrich says in his lecturing voice. "What would you actually like, or are you absolutely determined to bury yourself to be as discouragingly neutral as possible? Until I must ask if you actually want anything at all, or are merely going along the easiest path?"
He's keeping his voice quiet. He doesn't want to cause a scene. But this continued insistence of not having an opinion is wearing him down. Does Hugh even want to marry him, or is this the simplest way in his eyes to continue what they have?
"There are other restaurants near here that are excellent, if there's any preferences you'd like to voice or indulge."
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Emmrich liked to talk; that wasn't anything new, but once they were on their way, it was less conversation and more running monologue. Hugh couldn't get a word in edgewise the few times he tried. It wasn't as if Emmrich was purposefully interrupting him. The way he carried on, Hugh couldn't speak without feeling he was cutting him off or missing something. So, instead, he fell silent the rest of the way.
When they arrived in front of a nice-looking restaurant, Hugh stopped halfway to the entrance. Emmrich directed him to the menu set up outside. Confused but amenable to getting an idea of what he wanted, Hugh started to read through the Trade descriptions of everything listed.
It took everything in Hugh not to let his expression curdle like sour milk when he saw everything had some stewed fruit or nutty element to it. Given his appetite and a life that was short on options, Hugh wasn't one to turn his nose up at much, but he hated most nuts and detested stewed or candied fruits. Emmrich knew this, Emmrich often went out of his way to-
Emmrich was playing him like a fiddle. The moment Emmrich's tone shifted from fiance to professor, Hugh knew he had been cornered into something he would have cared to avoid.
'Discouragingly neutral as possible?' Was that really what this was all about? Hugh wanted to avoid conflict and wanted Emmrich to be happy, and now it sounded like he was being accused of sabotage. Just because Emmrich dreamed of this for so many years and Hugh was out of his depth didn't mean-
Well, fine, in for a copper in for a crown.
The muscles in Hugh's jaw tightened as he squared his shoulders like a man digging his heels in and bracing himself.
"Actually, Emmrich, I'm happy to try something new. Lead the way." His voice was flatly pleasant, all in the tone and none of it in his expression.
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"Why should both of us suffer?" Emmrich's voice was resigned. "We're not eating here. I think I'll head home to eat, unless you do have something you want. If you even know what you want. Manfred?"
The skeleton looked between them. He could tell something was wrong, but Emmrich knew it was unlikely Manfred would understand what specifically was off. This was a very mortal sort of issue. He held out his hand, and Manfred took it.
"At this point I can't tell if you want to marry me, Hugh. And I'm worried that you may not even know. At every point, even when there's something in your expression that says you have an opinion, a wish, you stay quiet. You hold back. As if... I don't know. That's the problem. Do you feel your wants don't matter as much as mine, when we're in a partnership that's supposed to be equals? Do you not trust yourself? Do you not trust me to be able to say if something matters? Have you spent so long at the command of others and then the world's needs that you don't know yourself?"
Emmrich sighed again. "I want you, but even more than that I need you to be happy. And you are clearly determined to sabotage your joy as if that might make me happy, which it will not. Even if it seems minor to you, I cannot be part of you harming yourself. I will not. I love you."
And then he waited. Either they'd continue the day with Hugh voicing a preference, or he'd head back to the Necropolis with Manfred in tow. There was always more work he could be doing, and he'd throw himself into that to ignore the fact that they just couldn't seem to get on the same page, couldn't seem to communicate.
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In both comportment and tone, Emmrich had already started to retreat into that withdrawn way he did, as if he had already decided how this discussion would end. No doubt, within the split second he spoke his piece, the man had already combed through a hundred outcomes and firmly landed on the worst one. That was never a good sign.
Hugh wasn't sure what stung more the longer Emmrich continued. It was now laid out before him that Emmrich thought he didn't just lack preference but even the capacity to do so. Or seeing Manfred at Emmrich's side, appearing the united front with Hugh standing on the outside.
At that moment, it wasn't anger Hugh felt. Only the creeping dread of being of his back against the wall and no way out but forward where neither of them comes out unscathed. Hugh took in a deep breath and hoped someday Emmrich would forgive him.
"Fine, I'll stop holding back," He took his hands out of his pockets as if in surrender. "This entire time, we've been planning a wedding you've wanted most of your life, and I've never even considered within the realms of possibility until less than a month ago. That first artesian was right, you know. To look at me as if I were some uninformed peasant from nowhere, because that's what I am, Emmrich.
You're parading patterns and crystalware, and Maker knows what else, like I'm expected to make heads or tails of any of it. I don't say anything because I trust you, and I want this to go right.
You know what? I wanted a griffon wing as part of the earring. I even thought about the beads, but I know how you feel about the origins of both those things, and it's enough to have that argument, but I am just—"
Hugh fought to keep his voice low enough that only direct passersby could hear. That he could manage, but he couldn't hide the tremor in his voice or the way his lip quivered.
"Sometimes you conflate my contentment with the simple as this...punishment I'm inflicting on myself, but it's not. I just don't have the life experience you do and the only one who forgets that is you.
Emmrich, I just didn't want to upset what you've already had in mind for so long. I would be happy with the most Nevarran wedding to ever...Nevarra or whatever, or just the two of us in a church basement hurriedly going through vows overseen by a nun I bribed with a silver piece. Because it's one day, and then after, I get you forever."
Hugh looked between Emmrich and Manfred, shoulders hunched and hands back into his pockets, and started to turn.
"I'm going for a walk."
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"Wait. Please." There was a lot to process there. Finally Hugh was talking, and while Emmrich felt some of his thoughts and fears were confirmed by it, some of what he said was a surprise as well.
"The Wardens, yes, I resent what they've done to you, but they're an important order, and they are a part of who you are. Just the same, our recent trip to Ferelden was not a pleasant one, but I do not actually hate the country and it is also a part of you. The earring should reflect you; it should have them if you'd like them.
"And you are so much more than someone who should be dismissed, Hugh. You are everything to me. The reason I keep bringing other things out, other choices, is because, it's not a parade. It's because this is us both. I want pieces of both of us in this, Hugh. I want... That's what I want, with this wedding. It's us. But I apologize, too."
Emmrich looked down. "I do forget that you haven't had the opportunity to pursue life and interests much before, and that the freedom I've known is rare. I'm sorry. Can we have lunch and then perhaps go over what does matter to you? I'll pull together the rest and run it by you, but I won't force you to go in-depth on the details you truly don't care about. "
And then, despite how he wanted to pull Hugh close, he let go of his love's arm. He could not force Hugh to talk, or to forgive him.
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Hugh watches with widened eyes and a slightly parted mouth as Emmrich speaks — not shocked, but he does have the look of someone absorbing a tremendous amount of information all at once. The world around them may as well have fallen behind a curtain, his attention squarely on the man in front of him.
When Emmrich's hand fell away, Hugh was there to catch it. With a gentle squeeze, he drew his love's hand up and kissed the back of his knuckles, skin pale and cool in the late winter air.
"Then stop acting as if you're doing wrong by me by not draping me in gold or not getting my final say on if I want brocade or damask patterned table runners as if I even know what those are," Hugh offered a wane smile and huffed an airy chuckle. "That isn't who I am, and you're not failing me by taking the lead here."
Hugh took a step back with his hand still firmly in Emmrich's as if wanting to take the sight of him in, a warm smile playing across his face.
—And then his stomach growled and Hugh really did laugh.
"Right," His face tinged a faint pink. "Let's go to lunch, and after you take Manfred home, I'll return to the jewelers to go over things in better detail, alright?"
There was a pause, and then, "Is that restaurant with the whole chickens on spits nearby? I think I need to eat a whole fucking bird at this rate."
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"Yes, to all of that. This way." Holding Hugh's hand on one side and Manfred's on the other, Emmrich turned and started heading them in the right direction. "Whatever color you choose for the bead, let her know I'd like the skull on my earring to match. Stone, though, not glass. The more unruly undead seem quite skilled at finding anything fragile and taking advantage of that."
"Unruly," Manfred cheerfully echoed.
It was another reason for things to be gold and substantial. He could broach the topic of why giving Hugh gold would matter to him if Hugh would just let him later. Death was a grave topic, and that was a sentence he could never speak out loud unless he was prepared for dozens of jokes.
Emmrich got an odd look when they arrived at the restaurant; it tended to cater more toward tourists seeing as it so heavily featured meat. And it was one he'd never come to alone. But they did have an excellent assortment of vegetarian appetizers, and he was happy to order the meal option of them when the server came by with menus. Manfred also was getting sideways glances, which was privately amusing to Emmrich. Likely it wasn't entirely easy to eat meat when a skeleton was sitting at a table near you, happily swinging his feet and playing with a napkin.
He pulled some paper, a quill, and a portable inkpot out of Manfred's backpack once the server was gone.
"So what details regarding the wedding matter to you? Obviously non-vegetarian meal options. What else?"
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At that, Hugh blew a stubborn lock curled over his forehead away before running his free hand through his thick but neatly short hair. On Emmrich's other side, Manfred did the most peculiar thing and mimicked the gesture with his gloved hand over his bony pate. On it was more stilted, thoughtful. It was as though it was just occurring to Manfred that he lacked something that Hugh and Emmrich had.
"Hair!" Manfred said, which was impressive because Hugh didn't even say 'hair' for him to parrot back.
"You're right, Manfred; I should be more considerate to those less hirsute than I."
Neither Manfred nor Hugh had been altogether concerned with any curious stares; Manfred because the napkins came folded in the shape of swans, which fascinated him, and Hugh because he had no current focus beyond his stomach. The server needed some convincing from Hugh when he said that, yes, the order of two roast chickens were for him and not the table.
"Am I that obvious?" Hugh smirked as he considered the question. Well, I could handle the wine selection. I'm sure Lucanis and Viago would be amenable to help there, and I'll speak to my contacts back at the Keep and see about having the Chantry there in some unofficial capacity that won't cause a stir."
The last part was said casually, Hugh trying to let the topic air out in the open.
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Family seemed like a separate thought from that. For not the first time Emmrich wonders if he should be so presumptuous as to disrupt his parents' rest for this and dismisses the thought. They deserved peace. It would be selfish of him to pull them back for a wedding when he'd been a part of their lives for such a short time. He'd had Manfred for longer than he'd known them.
And Manfred was developing by leaps and bounds, mimicking them both now but learning from it. Manfred was enough family, Manfred and Hugh. He was not alone.
As Hugh talked Emmrich nodded, pausing to take a slow breath before nodding at the last. The Chantry mattered to Hugh, and they'd hold no authority in the Lighthouse.
"What capacity were you considering?" His tone was light. Yes, their presence would make him a little nervous, but again, it wasn't like he'd be alone. It wasn't like they'd have the opportunity to do something, likely. Emmrich just didn't want his wedding overshadowed by lectures about knowing his place as a mage.
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"Braids," A tug at a lock of hair at his temple too short for anything than maybe a single bead to demonstrate. "Can't do anything with this."
Their lunch came as they talked. The server clearly got the impression the conversation was more personal than the day-to-day chatter of their usual patrons and left as soon as the plates hit the table. Hugh was popping the drumstick out of its socket when Emmrich asked about what he had in mind.
My sister, The thought came out of nowhere, but Hugh had figured this would be around the time he would start getting sentimental, nostalgic — overly hopeful. Having no idea if she was still in the church, even alive, and more besides if she would have anything to do with him. That was all it was — just a thought.
"Hmm? Oh—" It was then Hugh realized he had gone quiet for a moment longer than awkward and had been mindlessly pushing his rice pilaf around with his fork. He cleared his throat to buy himself another second or two. "Only a blessing, before the ceremony perhaps. I was going to see who would be available and more in line with the modern way of things."
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"Ah, for some reason I was associating the beads with the mention of a possible pendant earlier. I'm certain that if you do want to try them, one of our friends will be able to help with your short hair."
There was a nice peace to the meal, but there was also an air of melancholy to it. Perhaps Emmrich was projecting. It could be only him feeling that way. He didn't think so, though. Not with how Hugh was playing with his food. A grain of rice had escaped and Manfred had claimed it for his napkin swan which was attempting to eat it.
Emmrich reached over to rest a hand on Hugh's shoulder. "Where are your thoughts, love?" A blessing should be all right. He'd probably ask to see it first, but Hugh knows more now about where Chantry doctrine might be hurtful toward mages.
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Any of their friends would mean well, but it wouldn't be the same. It was times like these when he felt Harding's absences more deeply than just an abiding sense of loss. They had never spoken much of their shared homeland, and Rook hadn't been to Ferelden since he was young, but there would have been mutual understanding. An awareness of things the others simply lacked and through no fault of their own. Even Emmrich didn't quite grasp the cultural significance, but that was neither here nor there. For now, he was content with the earrings and had two whole months to sort out his thoughts in his own time.
The warmth from Emmrich's hand seeps through Hugh's coat, and he centers himself back to the present. He reached over and gave Emmrich's hand a reassuring pat.
"Just a lot to consider," Hugh said. "We can go over the finer details in private."
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"Of course. Are you finished eating? Not to rush you, as there's nothing pressing on our time today. I merely noticed that you haven't taken a bite in a time. If you are we can head back--Rather, I can head back home while you stop to speak about the earrings again, and by the time you return I'll have a list of vegetarian dishes so you have time to contemplate wines?"
And he might change. The talk of bites hadn't left his mind. But he might also speak with Myrna and see how she felt regarding his parents. He probably would not bring them back, he felt guilt at the thought of it, but there was an undeniable longing there.
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After fighting down the urge to choke on a mouthful of pilaf, Hugh set his fork down and gave Emmrich a reassuring smile. Things were heading in the right direction, maybe not all at once, but he held firm to that.
"Sure, think I terrorized the staff enough," Hugh tried for a joke, even though that approach rarely worked with Emmrich. "I'd best leave before they worry I'll finish off the flock."
Rook stood and slipped back into his jacket. Reaching across the table, he rubbed the ivory surface of Manfred's pate. An approximation of tousling hair playfully if the spirited skeleton possessed any hair to speak of. Manfred seemed to enjoy the gesture with a delighted his as he wiggled in his seat.
"Might take a short walk, but I'll head over to the jewelers, then head back," He said to Emmrich before leaning down to kiss his cheek. "Thank you for lunch, love. It won't take long. We can go over a wine list tonight, maybe see what we already have, rehearse the honeymoon later, and whatever else is on the itinerary. See you soon."
With a wink, Hugh pulled away and departed.
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