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."
Emmrich was an awful liar. His friends never let him forget it, especially any time he tried his hand at any level of subterfuge. On the other hand, Hugh was often fairly good at it, especially during cards, so the fact that Hugh was so sloppy trying to convince Emmmrich he was fine was concerning. Between the look down at his food as if he could cover up how he'd stopped eating and the joke that his heart wasn't in, Hugh was clearly bothered.
It worried Emmrich. He'd thought they'd gotten somewhere upon reaching this restaurant, and now he knew he was missing something but not what. How could they get to a place where Hugh talked to him when bothered? Could they? He didn't want to imagine that they'd forever be in this state, with him having to be dramatic to find out anything, but he didn't know what to do here. Maybe he should ask their friends. It wasn't like Hugh was going to stay in place long enough for them to figure it out currently, seeing as he was getting up and fondly playing with Manfred.
Emmrich tried to keep concern out of his expression as he was kissed, nodding silently with slightly downcast eyes until the honeymoon comment had his gaze jerking back up and desire spiking in his abdomen. Hugh was gone too quickly for him to come up with a response, though. He was so weak for that man it bordered on ridiculous.
The server returned to the table and Emmrich paid before leading Manfred on a fairly quiet walk back to the Necropolis. Fairly quiet on his part, that was. Manfred clearly had enjoyed the whole day, making little comments about swans, beads, rice, and Emmrich being angry. The commentary was nice, actually, and Emmrich nodded and made affirmative noises as was fitting. Manfred was starting to make deeper connections and observations about the world around him, though his vocabulary was still limited. Emmrich wondered if he found that frustrating, not being able to communicate everything he was thinking verbally when previously Manfred had been able to seamlessly communicate near-silently with Emmmrich. He might need to see if they could work on that, make it easier, or at least help with his companion's development.
That would be a project for after the wedding planning, though. And much after Hugh returned today, because Emmrich was rather decided by the time they got back. Sex did not fix miscommunication, but it made him feel so much better, and made him feel like he could reach a better level of harmony with Hugh.
There was a group setting off for the rose maze when they returned to the Necropolis, and of course Emmrich gave an excited Manfred permission to go. His apprentice could observe the rites and enjoy the flowers, and it would take several hours which left Emmrich free to... entertain.
He returned to their rooms, located the list of vegetarian dishes he'd already been sorting out, and then relocated a heckling Johanna to the study even as he was called shameless and wanton. The door got closed. After that he went to one of his wardrobes and retrieved a box from the back that he hadn't opened in some time. In it were a few pieces of lingerie, things he'd never been sure Hugh would be interested in seeing him in but now he wanted to try out because what was a honeymoon if not for indulging and experimenting? Emmrich settled on a corset-and-lace-smalls set, along with stockings, and returned to the front room to finish the dish list while he waited.
Much as Hugh wanted to pretend he hadn't caught the disappointment and concern etched into Emmrich's expression, he knew better. He would have had an easier time staring directly into the sun and declaring that it was the middle of the night. Much like staring into the sun, the afterimage would be burned into Hugh's retinas every time he blinked the entire walk back to the jewelers.
Compounding his guilt was his diversion with that honeymoon comment that had been as apparent as Emmrich's worry. Hugh was no longer a thrill-chasing Warden seeking distraction. He couldn't fuck his way out of a difficult conversation through an engagement, let alone a marriage; he needed to grow up. As if that line of thinking did anything to improve his mood as he trudged up the winding streets of Nevarra's city sprawl.
By the time he stepped through the wrought iron gates of the jeweler's store, his thoughts were as clear as soup left on the stove too long. The elven artisan, Ortha, was behind the counter and, at the ringing of the little silver bell above the door frame, looked up and smiled as though expecting him.
"Didn't take long for you to think things over, eh?" Her voice was lilting with that Marcher accent and friendly. Her smile went crooked and she peered around him, "Where's your other half, mister tall and stately looking?"
"Tending to things back at the Necropolis," Hugh answered and offered a polite smile of his own as he ducked his head like a boy caught in a lie. "He's a professor there. It's a busy time of year for him."
"I see..." Ortha said as she put down the gilded music box she was tuning with its ballerina skeleton in a hooded gown spinning lazily to a soft tune that silenced when shut, "Lively place, that?"
Hugh snorted, "Like you wouldn't believe."
She nodded as if in understanding, but given where she set up shop chances stood that she did. Ortha then hoisted herself up over the counter and sat atop it with lithe, elven grace. Hugh had taken her for a more laidback soul and was already more at ease around her than most anyone else he ran into in the city.
"So...the earrings?" She gently prompted.
Hugh blinked and nodded, "Ah, right. I'd still like it to be a hoop around the helix, but the cut. Could that be made to look like a griffon's wing?"
Ortha hummed as she considered, then hopped off the counter and up to Hugh. Chin pinched between her thumb and forefinger, she gave Hugh a once over with her glinting pale blue eyes and came to some private conclusion.
"I can tell you prefer simpler designs compared to your Mortalitassi paramour," she observed in an even voice. I wonder if that bothers him, given how Nevarrans are with their grave gold? I imagine planning your wedding must be difficult enough."
Hugh took a reflexive half-step back and now found her pale gaze far too focused. He guessed she had to be discerning in her field, but all of a sudden, he felt like a bug pinned to a board under a magnifying glass.
"What do you mean?"
Ortha canted her head towards the display case of Ferelden hair beads. "That set over there I was telling you about? The Gwaren girl just turned three-and-twenty this year. Her groom is a nobleman twice her age. She's a band's daughter, but it seems the lord's run himself into some debts even before the South was blighted. Not unheard of, but I couldn't help that you're so..."
Hugh squared his shoulders and felt his temper twist in his belly like a coiling snake. He could see the well-meaning concern in her eyes, and it only made him want to spit.
"So what? Much younger? Thank you, I wouldn't have noticed without your-"
Ortha cut him off, "So out of your element and looking as if you don't know where to stand on your own two feet here. A wealthy, older gentleman doing most of the talking while his reticent fiance looks like he's fighting to get every word he speaks out turns heads, dear. Even in Nevarra."
"It's not like that." Hugh flushed and looked down at the floor. Emmrich was twenty-four years his senior. Hugh had barely turned thirty when they had met. It was never a problem, he selmdom even thought about it. No one had ever given them grief for it beyond Harding's occasional needling, but they hadn't exactly been walking the city square regularly either.
"No, it's not; I knew that for certain, anytime you turned away, that man had the most besotted look on his face." Ortha chuckled again, and there was an unmistakable warmth to it. She then looked at him in that kindly way of hers, "But these...disparities between you two, it's clear that this was something neither of you was prepared for. How long have you been together, if I may ask?"
"A...a little over a year." Damned if she didn't hit the nail on the head. He and Emmrich hardly veered out of their tight circles between the Lighthouse and the Watchers.
"I wish you many more," Ortha squeezed his arm, "You're no blushing bride from Gwaren making a tough choice. Come by in a fortnight, and I'll have the preliminary mold ready for you to look at."
They chatted a while longer, and before long, the evening sky had started to darken into deep oranges and bruised purples. Hugh excused himself, but as he was leaving.
"By the way, is that music box for sale?"
It was late into the evening when Hugh had finally made it back to the Necropolis. His legs were pleasently sore from taking the long walk back. Eluvians were grand, but sometimes, a man just needed to stretch his legs to clear his head. Hugh hadn't lingered to chat with anyone he passed in the Necropolis before making it to the elevators that lead to the lower levels where senior Watchers resided.
"I'm back!" Hugh called into the front hall as he shrugged off his coat and walked into the front room.
Emmrich was there in his peripheral vision, and Hugh only noted that he was in a dressing gown and wondered why Emmrich was preparing for bed so early in the evening. Hugh didn't ponder long as he set the wrapped package with the music box inside on the table set between to chaise lounges and collapsed into one with a loud and overly dramatic groan.
"Maker, there aren't enough hours in the day," Hugh griped as he kicked off his boots and flung an arm over his eyes as he sprawled out. "Where's Manfred? I bought something for him at the jeweler."
The longer Hugh took to return, the more Emmrich had to remind himself to breathe. Nevarra City was safe. Beyond that, Hugh was still not secure in himself as just himself. Perhaps time walking around alone would help. There was a chance that Emmrich was trying to do too much for and with Hugh, and was stifling him, too. He didn't know. He had no idea how to support an adult finding themself, other than he was quite certain that it wasn't the same as with a young student. A shame, that, since he was very good at helping young students. It was also probably different because of the level of investment Emmrich felt in Hugh. He loved Hugh. He wanted decades alongside the man in life before they joined each other in eternity.
And it wouldn't happen if he suffocated the man or drove him away. So he'll be patient, and while there was no shutting up the fears and anxieties that always reared their eager heads whenever Hugh got closed off, he would try harder to work through them internally.
The dishes list, cake options, non-wine beverage choices, and even the table settings were looking in order by the time Hugh returned. A tired-seeming Hugh, no less. Asking after Manfred also meant the suggestion earlier had probably escaped his mind entirely. Emmrich felt a bit ridiculous to be wearing what he was wearing now. At least he had the robe.
"A group reviewing the rituals in the rose maze was setting off as we returned, and he was eager to join in. They won't be back for hours yet, I'm afraid." He kept his voice soft, because that was the easiest way to keep any emotion other than the usual warmth he felt toward Hugh out of it. He didn't want any trace of disappointment to be audible, even as he shifted to try to make sure it wasn't obvious that he'd been half-hard.
It was good Hugh was thinking of Manfred, though. There was attachment there. They were a family, as oddly shaped as it was. "It's good for his development, too, as he forms greater social connections with mages who will be his peers, more or less."
The non-living Watchers were fully a part of the order, but there was sometimes a divide. Vorgoth integrated well enough with everyone, but even Keepsake and Curio weren't as amiable with some of other Watchers as they were with Emmrich and Myrna. They weren't seen quite as equals, which was such a loss to those who thought the living superior. Emmrich hoped that Manfred spending time among living students would help both him and them. Especially as Emmrich would not immortal, and thus wouldn't always be around to support Manfred.
"You seem worn out. Am I reading that right?" If Hugh is, Emmrich can go 'use the restroom' and change out of this for another time. "Did your meeting with Orthra go well?"
"A shame," Hugh said as he stretched out until the spaces between the joints of his spine and shoulders cracked pleasently. "I was looking forward to his reaction. It's a little music box. I couldn't place the tune, but it's got this little gold ballerina that spins. Still, who am I to stand in the way of the academic growth of Curiosity itself."
Well, technically speaking, Emmrich bought the music box. Anything Hugh carried on his person had come from Emmrich's coffers. It turned out the Grey Wardens didn't have hazard pay, and there weren't any salaried positions in saving the world twice over. That had never bothered Hugh, but he had always tried to keep his purchases practical and frugal. Weapons maintenance, a sturdy pair of boots, and maybe the occasional pastry when out in the city, but nothing overly indulgent. It didn't feel right, even if they were engaged. This little moment of spontaneity for Manfred was perhaps out of character, but the moment he saw the little jeweled figure dance, his mind was made.
"Hours, you say?" Hugh sat up then, latching onto that little detail as soon as it and its subtle meaning registered.
"Well as it could, I don't really have the head for all that," Proped on his elbows, Hugh was making no effort to hide his eyes roving up the length of the figure Emmrich cut in the rich velvet and silk of his dressing gown. Forgetting almost entirely the awkward conversation he had with the artisan as he waved Emmrich over, "Just catching my breath after the jog back, come here and fill me in on how you've come along."
With his legs stretched out and his frame dominating the rest of the chaise, Emmrich had nowhere to sit but on Hugh if he did care to join him.
"You can still see his reaction when you give it to him later," he said, warmed by the thought of what Manfred would think. "I think he'll appreciate it, especially as it came from you."
Where the money technically came from didn't matter. Emmrich had plenty of it, more than he needed, and it was for their use, all of them. He even regularly gave money away and there was still a ridiculous amount. Sometimes he wondered if that too was a stumbling point for Hugh, especially as Hugh said he didn't have the head for 'all that.' His love is smarter than he thinks, better than he thinks, and Emmrich wished there was a way to convince Hugh of that.
At least he could clearly, conclusively, prove to Hugh that he was wanted. He hoped Hugh knew it was for more than his body, though he had to. Obviously he had to. No one would marry someone if they thought it was that shallow, and now Emmrich was overthinking everything.
It was absolutely time to get out of his own head. Especially as he was looked over like that. Emmrich picked up the papers he'd filled, bringing them over to set on the table next to Hugh as if he thought they'd actually go over things. He doubted they'd make progress for a bit, as clearly the only seating option was to straddle Hugh's lap, and straddling him rucked up the robe to show off bare lower legs.
"I made progress in a few areas, and I think I've got a good assortment of vegetarian dishes chosen. I've also narrowed down cake flavors to five that we both liked, though I think I'd like you to narrow it further, when you feel up to it." He leaned forward to kiss Hugh's forehead to try to ease any pressure that roused, showing more skin at the drooping v of his robe as well.
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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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It worried Emmrich. He'd thought they'd gotten somewhere upon reaching this restaurant, and now he knew he was missing something but not what. How could they get to a place where Hugh talked to him when bothered? Could they? He didn't want to imagine that they'd forever be in this state, with him having to be dramatic to find out anything, but he didn't know what to do here. Maybe he should ask their friends. It wasn't like Hugh was going to stay in place long enough for them to figure it out currently, seeing as he was getting up and fondly playing with Manfred.
Emmrich tried to keep concern out of his expression as he was kissed, nodding silently with slightly downcast eyes until the honeymoon comment had his gaze jerking back up and desire spiking in his abdomen. Hugh was gone too quickly for him to come up with a response, though. He was so weak for that man it bordered on ridiculous.
The server returned to the table and Emmrich paid before leading Manfred on a fairly quiet walk back to the Necropolis. Fairly quiet on his part, that was. Manfred clearly had enjoyed the whole day, making little comments about swans, beads, rice, and Emmrich being angry. The commentary was nice, actually, and Emmrich nodded and made affirmative noises as was fitting. Manfred was starting to make deeper connections and observations about the world around him, though his vocabulary was still limited. Emmrich wondered if he found that frustrating, not being able to communicate everything he was thinking verbally when previously Manfred had been able to seamlessly communicate near-silently with Emmmrich. He might need to see if they could work on that, make it easier, or at least help with his companion's development.
That would be a project for after the wedding planning, though. And much after Hugh returned today, because Emmrich was rather decided by the time they got back. Sex did not fix miscommunication, but it made him feel so much better, and made him feel like he could reach a better level of harmony with Hugh.
There was a group setting off for the rose maze when they returned to the Necropolis, and of course Emmrich gave an excited Manfred permission to go. His apprentice could observe the rites and enjoy the flowers, and it would take several hours which left Emmrich free to... entertain.
He returned to their rooms, located the list of vegetarian dishes he'd already been sorting out, and then relocated a heckling Johanna to the study even as he was called shameless and wanton. The door got closed. After that he went to one of his wardrobes and retrieved a box from the back that he hadn't opened in some time. In it were a few pieces of lingerie, things he'd never been sure Hugh would be interested in seeing him in but now he wanted to try out because what was a honeymoon if not for indulging and experimenting? Emmrich settled on a corset-and-lace-smalls set, along with stockings, and returned to the front room to finish the dish list while he waited.
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Compounding his guilt was his diversion with that honeymoon comment that had been as apparent as Emmrich's worry. Hugh was no longer a thrill-chasing Warden seeking distraction. He couldn't fuck his way out of a difficult conversation through an engagement, let alone a marriage; he needed to grow up. As if that line of thinking did anything to improve his mood as he trudged up the winding streets of Nevarra's city sprawl.
By the time he stepped through the wrought iron gates of the jeweler's store, his thoughts were as clear as soup left on the stove too long. The elven artisan, Ortha, was behind the counter and, at the ringing of the little silver bell above the door frame, looked up and smiled as though expecting him.
"Didn't take long for you to think things over, eh?" Her voice was lilting with that Marcher accent and friendly. Her smile went crooked and she peered around him, "Where's your other half, mister tall and stately looking?"
"Tending to things back at the Necropolis," Hugh answered and offered a polite smile of his own as he ducked his head like a boy caught in a lie. "He's a professor there. It's a busy time of year for him."
"I see..." Ortha said as she put down the gilded music box she was tuning with its ballerina skeleton in a hooded gown spinning lazily to a soft tune that silenced when shut, "Lively place, that?"
Hugh snorted, "Like you wouldn't believe."
She nodded as if in understanding, but given where she set up shop chances stood that she did. Ortha then hoisted herself up over the counter and sat atop it with lithe, elven grace. Hugh had taken her for a more laidback soul and was already more at ease around her than most anyone else he ran into in the city.
"So...the earrings?" She gently prompted.
Hugh blinked and nodded, "Ah, right. I'd still like it to be a hoop around the helix, but the cut. Could that be made to look like a griffon's wing?"
Ortha hummed as she considered, then hopped off the counter and up to Hugh. Chin pinched between her thumb and forefinger, she gave Hugh a once over with her glinting pale blue eyes and came to some private conclusion.
"I can tell you prefer simpler designs compared to your Mortalitassi paramour," she observed in an even voice. I wonder if that bothers him, given how Nevarrans are with their grave gold? I imagine planning your wedding must be difficult enough."
Hugh took a reflexive half-step back and now found her pale gaze far too focused. He guessed she had to be discerning in her field, but all of a sudden, he felt like a bug pinned to a board under a magnifying glass.
"What do you mean?"
Ortha canted her head towards the display case of Ferelden hair beads. "That set over there I was telling you about? The Gwaren girl just turned three-and-twenty this year. Her groom is a nobleman twice her age. She's a band's daughter, but it seems the lord's run himself into some debts even before the South was blighted. Not unheard of, but I couldn't help that you're so..."
Hugh squared his shoulders and felt his temper twist in his belly like a coiling snake. He could see the well-meaning concern in her eyes, and it only made him want to spit.
"So what? Much younger? Thank you, I wouldn't have noticed without your-"
Ortha cut him off, "So out of your element and looking as if you don't know where to stand on your own two feet here. A wealthy, older gentleman doing most of the talking while his reticent fiance looks like he's fighting to get every word he speaks out turns heads, dear. Even in Nevarra."
"It's not like that." Hugh flushed and looked down at the floor. Emmrich was twenty-four years his senior. Hugh had barely turned thirty when they had met. It was never a problem, he selmdom even thought about it. No one had ever given them grief for it beyond Harding's occasional needling, but they hadn't exactly been walking the city square regularly either.
"No, it's not; I knew that for certain, anytime you turned away, that man had the most besotted look on his face." Ortha chuckled again, and there was an unmistakable warmth to it. She then looked at him in that kindly way of hers, "But these...disparities between you two, it's clear that this was something neither of you was prepared for. How long have you been together, if I may ask?"
"A...a little over a year." Damned if she didn't hit the nail on the head. He and Emmrich hardly veered out of their tight circles between the Lighthouse and the Watchers.
"I wish you many more," Ortha squeezed his arm, "You're no blushing bride from Gwaren making a tough choice. Come by in a fortnight, and I'll have the preliminary mold ready for you to look at."
They chatted a while longer, and before long, the evening sky had started to darken into deep oranges and bruised purples. Hugh excused himself, but as he was leaving.
"By the way, is that music box for sale?"
It was late into the evening when Hugh had finally made it back to the Necropolis. His legs were pleasently sore from taking the long walk back. Eluvians were grand, but sometimes, a man just needed to stretch his legs to clear his head. Hugh hadn't lingered to chat with anyone he passed in the Necropolis before making it to the elevators that lead to the lower levels where senior Watchers resided.
"I'm back!" Hugh called into the front hall as he shrugged off his coat and walked into the front room.
Emmrich was there in his peripheral vision, and Hugh only noted that he was in a dressing gown and wondered why Emmrich was preparing for bed so early in the evening. Hugh didn't ponder long as he set the wrapped package with the music box inside on the table set between to chaise lounges and collapsed into one with a loud and overly dramatic groan.
"Maker, there aren't enough hours in the day," Hugh griped as he kicked off his boots and flung an arm over his eyes as he sprawled out. "Where's Manfred? I bought something for him at the jeweler."
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And it wouldn't happen if he suffocated the man or drove him away. So he'll be patient, and while there was no shutting up the fears and anxieties that always reared their eager heads whenever Hugh got closed off, he would try harder to work through them internally.
The dishes list, cake options, non-wine beverage choices, and even the table settings were looking in order by the time Hugh returned. A tired-seeming Hugh, no less. Asking after Manfred also meant the suggestion earlier had probably escaped his mind entirely. Emmrich felt a bit ridiculous to be wearing what he was wearing now. At least he had the robe.
"A group reviewing the rituals in the rose maze was setting off as we returned, and he was eager to join in. They won't be back for hours yet, I'm afraid." He kept his voice soft, because that was the easiest way to keep any emotion other than the usual warmth he felt toward Hugh out of it. He didn't want any trace of disappointment to be audible, even as he shifted to try to make sure it wasn't obvious that he'd been half-hard.
It was good Hugh was thinking of Manfred, though. There was attachment there. They were a family, as oddly shaped as it was. "It's good for his development, too, as he forms greater social connections with mages who will be his peers, more or less."
The non-living Watchers were fully a part of the order, but there was sometimes a divide. Vorgoth integrated well enough with everyone, but even Keepsake and Curio weren't as amiable with some of other Watchers as they were with Emmrich and Myrna. They weren't seen quite as equals, which was such a loss to those who thought the living superior. Emmrich hoped that Manfred spending time among living students would help both him and them. Especially as Emmrich would not immortal, and thus wouldn't always be around to support Manfred.
"You seem worn out. Am I reading that right?" If Hugh is, Emmrich can go 'use the restroom' and change out of this for another time. "Did your meeting with Orthra go well?"
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Well, technically speaking, Emmrich bought the music box. Anything Hugh carried on his person had come from Emmrich's coffers. It turned out the Grey Wardens didn't have hazard pay, and there weren't any salaried positions in saving the world twice over. That had never bothered Hugh, but he had always tried to keep his purchases practical and frugal. Weapons maintenance, a sturdy pair of boots, and maybe the occasional pastry when out in the city, but nothing overly indulgent. It didn't feel right, even if they were engaged. This little moment of spontaneity for Manfred was perhaps out of character, but the moment he saw the little jeweled figure dance, his mind was made.
"Hours, you say?" Hugh sat up then, latching onto that little detail as soon as it and its subtle meaning registered.
"Well as it could, I don't really have the head for all that," Proped on his elbows, Hugh was making no effort to hide his eyes roving up the length of the figure Emmrich cut in the rich velvet and silk of his dressing gown. Forgetting almost entirely the awkward conversation he had with the artisan as he waved Emmrich over, "Just catching my breath after the jog back, come here and fill me in on how you've come along."
With his legs stretched out and his frame dominating the rest of the chaise, Emmrich had nowhere to sit but on Hugh if he did care to join him.
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Where the money technically came from didn't matter. Emmrich had plenty of it, more than he needed, and it was for their use, all of them. He even regularly gave money away and there was still a ridiculous amount. Sometimes he wondered if that too was a stumbling point for Hugh, especially as Hugh said he didn't have the head for 'all that.' His love is smarter than he thinks, better than he thinks, and Emmrich wished there was a way to convince Hugh of that.
At least he could clearly, conclusively, prove to Hugh that he was wanted. He hoped Hugh knew it was for more than his body, though he had to. Obviously he had to. No one would marry someone if they thought it was that shallow, and now Emmrich was overthinking everything.
It was absolutely time to get out of his own head. Especially as he was looked over like that. Emmrich picked up the papers he'd filled, bringing them over to set on the table next to Hugh as if he thought they'd actually go over things. He doubted they'd make progress for a bit, as clearly the only seating option was to straddle Hugh's lap, and straddling him rucked up the robe to show off bare lower legs.
"I made progress in a few areas, and I think I've got a good assortment of vegetarian dishes chosen. I've also narrowed down cake flavors to five that we both liked, though I think I'd like you to narrow it further, when you feel up to it." He leaned forward to kiss Hugh's forehead to try to ease any pressure that roused, showing more skin at the drooping v of his robe as well.
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