"I have a lot to be concerned about," Rook answered in a clear deflection, but there was no bite to his words. They were both drained and running on fumes. "Like I said earlier — just taking it all in."
Propped up on an elbow, Rook moved to tuck a lock of hair that had been mussed out of place behind Emmrich's ear. Soft and greying with just a hint of the darker shade it once was at the temples. Sometimes, Rook wondered if he would ever live long enough to turn grey or if he would prematurely when the Blight coursing through his veins finally caught up to him.
"I'd like to see Nevarra when this is all over," Rook said unbidden like an outward thought. "The parts above ground, I mean."
He didn't know if he should push. The last time they'd talked at the Lighthouse he'd caused an argument and then worried that he'd lost Rook without the opportunity to fix things, without the opportunity to make sure Rook knew how much he meant to Emmrich.
"I want to show you my homeland." Imagine, getting through all of this and being free to show Rook around. The thought is so beautiful it's almost painful. He could take Rook to the places he'd haunted as a child and as a student, the old watering holes, the markets, the site where once his father's butcher shop stood.
He twisted a little, enough so he could look up at Rook. Emmrich reached up to touch his love's face, the lightest brush of fingers against cheek.
"If there's anything left on your mind, anything you'd like to say, please share, Rook. We're in this together." He is devoted, heart and soul, to this man. He wants to share in Rook's fears and his joys. And he wants to never leave Rook's arms.
There was something heartening in the way Emmirch lit up after weeks of burning the candle at both ends, working at the thankless task of bringing Rook back from the brink. A bit of the man he fell in love with was stirring beyond all the exhaustion and uncertainty that had plagued them since Tearstone. It was only a spark of hope, but it was there, and it was a balm to Rook to know it hadn't been snuffed out.
— He just wished that this small moment of peace could have lasted a while longer before reality settled back over them like a shroud.
Rook frowned as his hand covered Emmrich's, holding it as he sat up. That distancing silent front he hid behind whenever his inner turmoil was up for discussion went up like a shield. Only briefly, but Rook needed to retreat into his own head if just to screw it back on straight. This is what he had been dreading because the moment he said it, the truth he'd been ignoring would be undeniable then.
"Solas..." Rook began, winding his fingers through Emmrich's as a tether. "Did more than trap me in the Fade. Since we discovered the Lighthouse, in fact. He...he did something to my mind and I believe it may have been blood magic."
He didn't quite have the willpower to sit up yet, as warm and heavy as he was, but he did roll over the rest of his way to his back so he could watch Rook's face as his love spoke.
"We theorized there was such a connection, with how he was able to speak with you. He said something along those lines, if I recall what I was told when I joined up correctly. Is there more to it?"
There must be, with Rook withdrawing like that. There's something big that's weighing on Rook's mind, and it's related to blood magic which worries Emmrich. At least they have Neve, who is familiar with fighting it. He has nearly no experience.
"Yes," Rook admitted, though the words came slowly as he grappled with their weight and his caution around them.
Once, having the opportunity to speak with Solas had been a strange sort of comfort. To have one god at his back when facing down two made the impossible feel likely. It had even assuaged some of the guilt he carried for their escape being the result of his own inaction at the ritual site. That was before the rug had been ripped out from under his feet the moment he tore that dagger from Ghilan'nain's chest.
"He convinced me Varric was alive all these months," Rook worried his lower lip as he spoke and stared into some middle distance or darkened corner of the room. "All this time when I would go into the infirmary and talk to my own hallucinations — Neve and Harding must have thought I was grieving, but it was real to me. Instead I was just seeking advice from dust and shadows while you all must have believed I was losing my mind."
He stares for several moments, far too long, processing that. All this time he'd thought Rook didn't talk about his mentor because it hurt too much, all the time he'd thought Rook simply went in there to speak to the cot like many did graves, and Rook hadn't known. What else could Solas have done? What else could Solas still do?
And did that mean Solas already knew Rook was free?
There were too many dangers. He needed to get Rook to the Necropolis. There were tools there, enchantments and spells, meant to detect and disrupt control, but he couldn't tell Rook as much beforehand. Not if Solas could still interfere. Which meant Emmrich needed to not suggest it right away despite how badly he wanted his love free now. ...it also wasn't like either of them were in any shape to go to the Necropolis right at this moment. Emmrich wasn't sure he could make it halfway through the Crossroads without passing out.
"I didn't think you were losing your mind," he said, voice gentle. Emmrich squeezed Rook's hand. "I see people go to graves to talk to people they've lost all the time, and thought that the Infirmary was serving that purpose for you. Grief is a complicated, tangled thing, and I don't think anyone was shaken in their faith in you when you would go in there. I... I did wonder why you never spoke of your mentor, though."
There. Encouraging, entirely meant, and it meant he could come at the urgent thing sideways.
"When we've eaten, rested a little more, and cleaned up, I think we should go to the Necropolis again. It can give you a little space away from here, and you can see that I mean it, that people go there to mourn." He hated hiding something from Rook, but this was a need. A horrifyingly important need, both for their chances to win, and for him to know that Rook had for certain wanted him and hadn't been unwillingly manipulated into being the greatest distraction Emmrich had ever encountered.
The silence that followed was deafening. Rook could tell the gears in Emmrich's mind were working overtime, and at first, Rook assumed the worst. Either Emmrich really did think Rook was cracked in the head or that this cast doubt on his leadership. Blood magic would make him a liability, one they couldn't afford this close to a confrontation with Elgar'nan.
— He didn't know which was worse: Being seen as crazy or a failure.
Rook braced himself for whatever outcome, save for the one that actually happened. He flinched when Emmrich squeezed his hand only to visibly start to let his guard down when the man laid at least one fear to rest. So to speak.
"I don't blame you for assuming I was hiding away with this," Rook managed a reticent grin because he could admit to his shortcomings. "You've always had to drag the truth out of me when I get inside my head."
Emmrich had been only ever patient with Rook when he brushed aside concerns over his well-being or when any conversation veered too far into the territory of his past. Of course, the man was going to assume Rook was merely being evasive and obstinate again. The shame he felt that he didn't have time to settle before Emmrich suggested they leave for the Necropolis soon.
"What?" Rook blinked, giving Emmrich a perplexed look. "Why would we risk going back to the Necropolis? I appreciate the gesture, really Emmrich I do, but this is hardly the time."
Maker, he wished he could lie well. Emmrich couldn't risk alerting Solas to the possibility of losing control if Solas still had it. The only thing to do was tell the truth but not the whole truth, and apologize with his whole heart later.
"After Weisshaupt, we as a team took care of unfinished business to get our heads on straight, but you didn't. You didn't seem to think you had something to settle. Now we know differently. We cannot risk going forward, you cannot risk going forward, with that hanging over your head. Not when we'll be facing Solas along with Elgar'nan."
Somehow he summoned up the strength to sit up, though oh, did his whole body hate him for it. Rook might say he'd lost weight, but Emmrich felt incredibly heavy.
"Please come with me, Rook. I believe it's important."
"Emmrich, I'm—" Rook stopped himself because he could claim to be fine. Stubborn as he was, even he had his limits and wasn't going to insult Emmrich's intelligence any more than he already had by saying he was fine.
Unfinished business buried the lede somewhat, but Rook didn't have it in him to argue the point. They were both exhausted and Rook was only recently convinced of the idea he didn't actually deserve every awful thing to happen to him in his life. Primarily because of the man not sitting beside him. He scrubbed a hand across his face and sighed. Emmrich could have just asked him to run across a bed of hot coals, and he would have gladly.
"Alright," Rook relented as he put his arm out to steady Emmrich and pressed his brow to the other man's temple, "I trust you. But first, you need to rest, love."
He felt shaky with relief when Rook agreed. He wasn't going to have to stretch the truth any further.
"Of course." He would agree to anything to cure Rook. Or rather, he would agree to anything Rook asked. His love deserved so much better than he'd gotten in his life, and the horror of Solas controlling Rook's memories, manipulating them, needed to be firmly in the past.
"Since we've finally dragged me upright, let's try eating and then resting again." It's going to be even more difficult to get up a second time if he doesn't eat and drink something now.
"You've been far too hard on yourself," Rook said—well aware he was a pot looking at a kettle and confidently announcing that it was black. They could work on that after the world was saved.
Right now, they needed to put this business with potential lingering blood magic to bed and then hopefully themselves for the scant few hours more they could spare. They weren't any use to the team if they were dead on their feet. Besides, Rook suspected that Emmrich wouldn't want to confront the gods without a proper shave first.
"I've already eaten," Rook explained as he moved away from Emmrich to let the other man get situated so he didn't risk falling over while trying to take his morning tea.
It was then that Rook shuddered with a powerful yawn that nearly unhinged his jaw. He slid down until he could unceremoniously lay his head on Emmrich's lap, half curled with his legs tucked and one arm wedged between Emmrich's back and the headboard for extra support.
"Can you just talk to me? About anything, really. Still feels like days since I heard your voice properly."
Normally it would be very difficult to believe he'd slept through someone eating, or someone leaving to eat, but Emmrich has never felt so worn out before in his life. And clearly he wasn't the only exhausted one. Emmrich smiled fondly down at Rook as the man got comfortable and brushed his fingers lightly through his hair as he picked up his tea.
"Manfred's learning how synonyms work, did you know?" Emmrich's joy in Manfred was one of the easiest topics possible. "It used to be that he'd stand in front of Johanna's skull and repeatedly call her bad. But he used the word criminal the other day! He's learning nuance! I'd explained that bad is such an easy word and takes so little into consideration, and now he's using three-syllable words. Imagine."
If this was to be his legacy, a Curiosity mage who understood nuance and love, then oh, what a legacy he would have. And if this was to be his life, Manfred, Rook, and himself, then he was the luckiest man to ever live.
Emmrich started in on the porridge then, despite his lack of appetite. His body needed it and he was not going to neglect it now that he had his other needs met.
Under normal circumstances, Rook would have relished the chance to boast that he finally was the earlier riser of the two for once. Maybe when the dust settled, and their hearts and bodies weren't being barely held together with spit and stubbornness, he'd say something. Maybe when this was all over, Emmrich would have finally rubbed off on him, and he'd actually start wanting to get up earlier. Those pre-dawn moments after his fistful rest with Emmrich in his arms were the calmest Rook had felt up until this point.
Emmrich's fingers winding through his hair settled him already. Rook could feel his breathing start to even out, and his muscles unspool from all the tension he had been carrying. The man could stroke a rabid dog into a complacent pup.
"Did he really?" Rook laughed the first real peal of laughter in what felt like ages. "Can't say which I'm more proud of him for - learning a new word or no doubt sending Hezenkoss into an apoplectic fit.
You know what they say, though-" Rook paused to let loose a loud yawn. "Once they learn to talk, they learn to talk back."
He knew Emmrich flustered at Rook's gentle teasing of referring to Manfred as their spell-flinging skeleton son. So naturally, he had to make the insinuation the moment the opportunity presented itself.
"You, Emmrich," Rook said after a stretch of comfortable silence. "It occurred to me that I have no idea where you live. Nevarra, obviously, but not the Necropolis, surely."
He can feel Rook relaxing against him and it eases some of his own tension. Solas could not create an illusion this compelling. This is no trick. Rook is back, and Emmrich can help him recover... while also working on recovering himself.
"Manfred would never!" he said, acting shocked at Rook's assertion. It would be a good sign of independence if his apprentice did have some minor acts of rebellion, though. Stealing his fancy pens to do homework barely counted as they were indeed fancy. "Assan is the one who talks back." He still sounded fond; he adored the griffon, and thoroughly enjoyed his and Davrin's conversations regarding their charges.
"And I do live in the Necropolis. My duties are there, the classrooms are there, the lecture halls, it's incredibly convenient. I could get a place outside of it, but why? The Necropolis is breathtakingly beautiful, and its etheric flow is unmatched outside of here, the Crossroads, and the Fade." Which is probably not a selling point for Rook. Emmrich tried again. This wasn't just about the perks for him living there. He wanted to sell Rook, a Grey Warden, on a reason to live somewhere the Blight wasn't much of an issue.
"My quarters are perfect. I enjoy the Lighthouse, of course, but everything in my place is coordinated to be warm and comfortable. The couch, the chairs, the bed, and it's all quite sturdy. Including the desk and table." They hadn't been picked with that idea in mind, but he couldn't deny his thoughts had drifted toward being bent over and taken on top of every piece of furniture in his apartments by Rook.
"I even have an extra room that's served more as a repository for current projects than anything else, which means there's space for someone else's interests and belongings." Not like Rook has much, but they can work on that. "Or hobbies they've always wanted to try."
He'd always allowed Manfred his own space, so there's no concerns there either. "And the kitchens are very close by." There, he could touch on the way sometimes Rook seemed to turn into a bottomless pit. "What else could someone want?"
The question wasn't purely rhetorical. If Rook needed additional things, Emmrich would move Fade and Thedas to make it happen. Eventually. Right now it was about all he could do to move the empty bowl and cup back to the nightstand. Did he have the strength to scoot down to a prone position again, or could he just sleep like this? His back would hate him later if he tried it.
With a sigh Emmrich patted Rook's head. "I think I need to lie back down, love."
"Oh, you say that now, but they grow up so fast," Rook teased as he turned his head to lightly kiss the bend of Emmrich's leg just above his kneecap. "A marvel and testament to Davrin's hard work that bird hasn't gone chewing on Manfred's tibia."
Then Emmrich went into colorful detail about his life back in the Necropolis. Rook was lulled into feeling as though he were being told a story while trying to picture every detail in his mind. All the while, he couldn't quite help the sinking feeling in his gut. The apartments sounded wonderful, with how Emmrich described them, and he had no doubt they were as comforting and homey as the older man conveyed it. Rook had even chuckled when he cottoned on to Emmrich's emphasis on how sturdy the furniture was.
All of it told as if Emmrich were at his home's threshold, holding the door open to invite Rook in. That was what gave Rook pause, his hand flexing over the rumbled bedsheet in thought.
— It was beneath the earth, out of the sun, no matter how many tapers and candelabras adorned it. Rook would take a difficult day with the sun beating down on his back rather than an easy one in the dark. He liked visiting the Memorial gardens because Emmrich loved them, and the man's affections for anything beyond Rook's understanding were infectious and terribly endearing.
But life with miles of rock above my head? Good practice for the Deep Roads. The thought came unbidden, and the moment it settled in his mind, Rook's heart lurched. That was unkind, and Emmrich's lack of subtlety was genuine and made a warm feeling pool in his chest. Rook was being ridiculous if (—when) they came to that fork in the road, and it wasn't as if Emmrich would keep him down there like a canary in a mine.
"Close to the kitchens? You'd want for nothing," Rook said full well knowing he'd be the bane of its staff whenever his condition demanded he be fed as if he were a one-man standing army.
"It sounds lovely," and Rook meant it as he stamped down his fears.
Emmrich roused him from his overthinking with a gentle pat on his head. Rook obliged by sitting himself upright onto his knees, waiting patiently for Emmrich to lay back down again. Once he had, Rook situated himself where his upper body was between Emmrich's legs, his head pillowed on the other man's sternum, and his own legs curled up so they weren't hanging off the edge of the bed. This was how Rook preferred to sleep when he could. Despite the disparity in their size and weight, Rook liked to listen to Emmrich's steady heartbeat while holding him. For his part, Emmrich was less restless in his sleep with Rook on top of him.
Rook saying he, Emmrich, would want for nothing from the kitchens stirred a small fear in Emmrich's heart. What if weeks alone had made Rook reconsider what they'd said? It could just be his exhaustion talking, a tired mind was a very unclear mind, but he'd never been good at not worrying.
"I'll show you when we drop in," he said instead of voicing any of his concern. He could not act and speak out of fear alone again, especially not before Elgar'nan and Solas were dealt with, and extremely especially not before he'd gotten more rest.
The rest might have posed a challenge despite his exhaustion if not for Rook climbing on top of him. There was nothing more relaxing, more comforting, than the heavy weight of the other man holding him down and making him feel grounded and safe. Emmrich exhaled slow and long, relaxing underneath his love. This was how he wanted to fall asleep for the rest of his life.
"You're perfect, love," Emmrich murmured. His eyes were already closed, but he did manage to wrap his arms around Rook's upper back this time before he fully surrendered to sleep.
Again his sleep was uncharacteristically deep and long. While sleep debt could never truly be repaid, his body still had greater demands than usual. It also meant that when he woke up, he woke a bit disoriented. Then again, it wasn't like he'd been keeping track of much of anything while trying to free Rook.
"What day or time, day and time, is it?" he asked without opening his eyes, tempted to add year.
"You're—" Rook interrupted himself with another yawn, voice muffled against Emmrich's sternum before finishing his sleep-addled train of thought, "rather spectacular yourself. Can't wait."
When not at the mercy of the occasional Blighted archdemon-induced nightmares, Rook had always been a sound sleeper. He had cultivated a talent over the years for being able to fall asleep anywhere. Sleep came easy, whether it was in the middle of the forest on the ground or nodding off in full plate while on disciplinary patrol duty. The times he had missed morning reveille back at Weisshaupt because he was still out like a snuffed candle were as innumerable as they were notorious.
— Still, nothing compared to being in someone's arms. Rook reveled in the warmth of another person held close and found himself drifting off with ease, wrapped in a sense of safety and contentment.
When Rook finally wakes up, Emmrich speaks, but Rook's head feels as if it were stuffed with cotton; everything sounds drowned out and far off. There was marked effort simply to raise his drowsy, heavy head. One side of his face felt damp from the line of drool that puddled there and likely on Emmrich's shirt.
"Was'at?" Rook slurred with his tongue heavy on every consonant. Another thing about Rook was when he was either exhausted or in his cups, the harsh and more...provincial Ferelden accent came out of him with a vengeance. "S'all 'ways fucken light out 'ere, innit?"
He'd thought it possible, after his last time waking, that Rook would already be fully awake when he roused. Apparently not. That was... quite the accent, and Emmrich could feel a damp spot on his chest. He rather hoped it was drool and not tears; the location thankfully seemed to suggest his hopes were met.
Tiredly Emmrich patted Rook's back. "It is. I thought there was a chance you'd been up since last we spoke. No matter.
He was still so exhausted, but they were likely getting to the point where more sleep would not help just yet. At least he was awake enough to feel scratchy and unclean. He needed to bathe, he needed to shave, and he needed clean clothes. Thank everything Manfred had been willing to take over laundry duty while he'd worked on getting Rook free. Actually thank the whole team for stepping up while he'd worked; Emmrich hadn't been on cooking or cleaning duty for those weeks.
"Let's tidy up, get you actually speaking words, and then go to the Necropolis, shall we?" And there was work yet to do. Myrna and Vorgoth trusted him to the point that at least he wouldn't need to alert them before taking Rook down into the areas with more... complicated... enchantments, but he had to get Rook there without alarming the man. The thought of Solas seeing Emmrich like this was repulsive, but it wasn't like Emmrich had possessed the ability to be otherwise.
He patted Rook's back again, meaning it as encouragement. There wasn't a way he was getting up with Rook's dead weight limp on him. He simply couldn't budge that.
"Slept like shite the last time," Rook was coming around to having to fire off on all cylinders, but he was still hampered by the cobwebs of rousing from such bone-deep exhaustion, "Was'jus' catching up."
He would let the comment about speaking 'actual' words slide, mostly because he barely registered it as he was instead focused on not letting Emmrich go. Once they were up and dressed, it meant time would continue to move forward and that this quiet little pocket of a moment they found sanctuary in would burst. It was enough that when Emmrich patted him a second time, Rook buried his head in the other man's chest and made a petulant groan of protest.
Giving ground, Rook was only willing to meet by rolling off him and curling into the blankets on the other side of the mattress. Beneath the layers of the goose featherdown comforter was the muffled plead for what sounded like 'just give me a moment.'
If not for how serious the situation might be, Emmrich would indulge Rook. He'd given in before, after all. But every minute delayed could be the minute where Solas discovers Rook is free and seizes control again. That cannot be risked. Not now that Emmrich felt like they could safely make it to the Necropolis. After that, they can collapse in his rooms.
"My love. Please." It was probably going to seem odd that he was pushing on this. Emmrich was walking a tightrope and he had no idea which way the wind was coming from so all he could do was try to keep moving forward.
He got up himself and stripped off his shirt on the way to the wash basin. There wasn't time for a full bath, he decided regretfully. It was needed, but not as much as Rook needed to definitively be free of a god. A quick spell warmed the water and he washed his face and chest off before bringing the basin over next to the bed.
"Here, Rook." He'd let the man wash his face as well before wiping anything else, though a glance in the mirror told him quite how unkempt he looked. There was no fixing his hair without cleaning it and he would have to deal with accepting that for the first time in several years. Ugh. He could not, however, accept the state of his facial hair. It itched far too much now that he had the brainpower to notice. Emmrich grabbed his kit and proceeded to do the quickest shave of his life, glancing over to check on Rook as he worked.
From the pile of blankets, Rook peered out with an inscrutable but sobered look on his face. Through the haze of his entire being trying to drag him back down into the depths of sleep, he picked up on the desperation that tinged Emmrich's voice. Even if he couldn't fathom why he was so keen on getting Rook to the Necropolis, a seed of doubt was planted in the back of his mind.
"Alright..." Rook agreed with a phantom of hesitation coloring his words, but ultimately, he let trust win out.
The first few minutes of Rook's unwelcomed eviction from their bed consisted of stretching and groaning as joints popped back into place. Everything was done in silence where ordinarily Rook might have teased Emmrich for being so meticulous or said he sort of liked the 'scruffy' look on the other man.
Water splashed across his face, and Rook was now awake enough to start the process of putting on a lighter set of armor. Much as he didn't like this, he doubted Emmrich was leading him into some great peril. Not long after, Rook was dressed and awkwardly standing in the middle of the room like a recruit awaiting orders.
He did not, by sheer force of will, sigh in relief as Rook started moving. Emmrich could hear the tone in Rook's voice, knew he had questions, and was endlessly grateful that the man chose faith instead.
Emmrich wiped down the rest of himself quickly and pulled on clean clothing while Rook got ready. By the time his partner spoke again, Emmrich was finishing up and pulling on his boots.
"Excellent." He grabbed his staff and quickly lead the way out, hoping to not run into anyone who might ask extensive questions.
Thankfully Neve was the only one in sight. "Emmrich? Rook?" She looked puzzled and concerned.
Emmrich met her gaze directly, praying that she picked up on the fact that he couldn't elaborate. "There's something we need to attend to at the Necropolis. We may rest there a little longer after; you can bring the others if you feel we tarry too long."
Neve, as always, proved quick on the uptake. She smirked as if Emmrich had just disclosed they were off to get laid. "Mmhmm. Don't have too much fun, you two." She of course had questions. Thankfully he would be able to answer them all after, and once she'd waved he resumed heading for the eluvian.
It felt good to have earned her faith as well.
That feeling faded the further he and Rook traveled, though. His tension built to the point he could taste bile in the back of his throat by the time they were entering the lower levels, the point at which Solas would notice his hold slipping if he was paying attention.
"Just a little deeper, dearest." His voice reflected how tense he felt despite how he was fighting to seem fine. If they got through one more door he could pull out his staff, activate the safeguards with scarcely a gesture, and be certain he'd severed their connection. Rook just had to follow him in to a room he'd never seen before with clear spell-casting runes and shapes on the floor, walls, and ceiling, filled with candles that would flicker to life the second Emmrich cast.
"We'll try not to," Rook gave a kneejerk response to Neve without much inflection.
—It was all giving him greater pause. He heard the half-heartedness in his own voice and knew he spoke out of habit rather than out of anything genuine. Something had quietly passed between her and Emmrich that he couldn't pin down. On the walk to the eluvian and through the Crossroads, any attempts to gauge Emmrich's motives came up short. The man was normally an open book and Rook found his wealth of trust in him gradually being spread thin.
Perhaps the worst part was Rook didn't suspect Emmrich of anything ill-intent, never, but he could not shake the feeling this sojourn into the Necropolis wasn't for anything good. The worst parts of him distantly likened the uncertainty looming over them the further they traveled to a lamed workhorse waiting to be taken out back to be put out of its misery.
They stood at an unfamiliar threshold — or, rather, Emmrich seemed ready to proceed where Rook dug his heels in and came to an abrupt halt. The hairs on the back of Rook's neck went up, and he stood stiffly as though spring-loaded, prepared to bolt.
"Emmrich..."
Rook held the man he loved with a wary stare. They never discussed it much, but Rook didn't mistrust magic so much as he avoided it the same way he wouldn't go grabbing his sword by the bladed end. Not seeing it as inherently one thing or another, but even in his ignorance, he sensed something different, off, about this.
He knew that Fereldans in general were beyond wary of magic, which made the fact that Rook had come this far without questions already incredible. Emmrich could not doubt that he was loved by this man when this much faith was on display. All the same, the pause when they were inches away from being able to sever any remaining connection to Solas made Emmrich's stress level skyrocket.
"Trust me, for just one more minute, love, please," he asked, quiet and low. Emmrich took Rook's elbow and somehow, despite the fact that the man could easily toss him aside, managed to tug his beloved in.
The door closed behind them and the runes and lines flared to life with a flick of Emmrich's wrist.
"I'll explain everything in a moment." So long as Rook didn't knock him out and run. The candles started lighting up one by one until only the center candle was left unlit. Emmrich drew his staff then, flooding the room with green and gold light. His focus on the last candle was intent, breathing irregular, and if Rook was listening closely he might hear the closest thing to a prayer Emmrich had murmured in years.
The tension in the room was palpable until the last candle burst into dramatic flames that seemed impossibly tall. Emmrich sagged like a puppet with its strings cut.
"The connection is fully broken," he said, sounding as if he'd been running for miles. He felt like he had. "Solas cannot touch you any further."
He looked at Rook then, warily, very aware of the fact that he'd just used magic on his partner without asking, his very Fereldan partner. All he could do was hope Rook agreed that this was an important enough cause.
What doesn't come as a comfort to Rook is when the man who ordinarily soothed fear and doubt with an even-keeled explanation only answered his hesitation with another bid to just trust him. This wasn't the gentle diligence of a dyed-in-the-wool educator Rook had come to expect of and rely on Emmrich for — this was true desperation. Emmrich was allowed his fears the same as anyone, but this stonewalling is what rattled Rook to his marrow.
Rook barely registered the hand at his elbow before he felt his feet move as if independent from the rest of him. Rook didn't resist or show any sign he would. They could have been standing on the edge of oblivion for all that it mattered. Emmrich wouldn't have needed to do more than crook his finger in Rook's collar, and the latter would have gone willingly because it was Emmrich.
They stood in the rune-covered room, and Rook scarcely had a moment to process its layout before the candles began to light themselves. He regarded the drawn staff as if it were a blade but found his only reaction was to freeze. Rook's senses were assaulted by too much happening at once. Green and gold light flooded his eyes, and the air itself was both thinner and somehow more oppressive. It was like something else was in the room, prodding and accessing him in a way that made him feel cold and small. The faint sound of Emmrich's voice should have been his anchor, but even he sounded uncertain.
— And then it was over, and it was just a room again.
The name Solas lances Rook as he flinched before the meaning of what Emmrich was saying pieced itself together. Rook's expression cycled from concern for Emmrich's well-being to confusion to being stricken by something he couldn't define with the candlelight casting hard shadows on his features.
"...Oh."
Rook said nothing more and instead stepped away as he moved to sit on the dais steps with his back turned. Arms folded on his knees and a slump to his posture, nothing about his bearing implied anger but rather that Rook was in a state where he wasn't sure what to think.
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Propped up on an elbow, Rook moved to tuck a lock of hair that had been mussed out of place behind Emmrich's ear. Soft and greying with just a hint of the darker shade it once was at the temples. Sometimes, Rook wondered if he would ever live long enough to turn grey or if he would prematurely when the Blight coursing through his veins finally caught up to him.
"I'd like to see Nevarra when this is all over," Rook said unbidden like an outward thought. "The parts above ground, I mean."
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"I want to show you my homeland." Imagine, getting through all of this and being free to show Rook around. The thought is so beautiful it's almost painful. He could take Rook to the places he'd haunted as a child and as a student, the old watering holes, the markets, the site where once his father's butcher shop stood.
He twisted a little, enough so he could look up at Rook. Emmrich reached up to touch his love's face, the lightest brush of fingers against cheek.
"If there's anything left on your mind, anything you'd like to say, please share, Rook. We're in this together." He is devoted, heart and soul, to this man. He wants to share in Rook's fears and his joys. And he wants to never leave Rook's arms.
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— He just wished that this small moment of peace could have lasted a while longer before reality settled back over them like a shroud.
Rook frowned as his hand covered Emmrich's, holding it as he sat up. That distancing silent front he hid behind whenever his inner turmoil was up for discussion went up like a shield. Only briefly, but Rook needed to retreat into his own head if just to screw it back on straight. This is what he had been dreading because the moment he said it, the truth he'd been ignoring would be undeniable then.
"Solas..." Rook began, winding his fingers through Emmrich's as a tether. "Did more than trap me in the Fade. Since we discovered the Lighthouse, in fact. He...he did something to my mind and I believe it may have been blood magic."
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"We theorized there was such a connection, with how he was able to speak with you. He said something along those lines, if I recall what I was told when I joined up correctly. Is there more to it?"
There must be, with Rook withdrawing like that. There's something big that's weighing on Rook's mind, and it's related to blood magic which worries Emmrich. At least they have Neve, who is familiar with fighting it. He has nearly no experience.
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Once, having the opportunity to speak with Solas had been a strange sort of comfort. To have one god at his back when facing down two made the impossible feel likely. It had even assuaged some of the guilt he carried for their escape being the result of his own inaction at the ritual site. That was before the rug had been ripped out from under his feet the moment he tore that dagger from Ghilan'nain's chest.
"He convinced me Varric was alive all these months," Rook worried his lower lip as he spoke and stared into some middle distance or darkened corner of the room. "All this time when I would go into the infirmary and talk to my own hallucinations — Neve and Harding must have thought I was grieving, but it was real to me. Instead I was just seeking advice from dust and shadows while you all must have believed I was losing my mind."
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And did that mean Solas already knew Rook was free?
There were too many dangers. He needed to get Rook to the Necropolis. There were tools there, enchantments and spells, meant to detect and disrupt control, but he couldn't tell Rook as much beforehand. Not if Solas could still interfere. Which meant Emmrich needed to not suggest it right away despite how badly he wanted his love free now. ...it also wasn't like either of them were in any shape to go to the Necropolis right at this moment. Emmrich wasn't sure he could make it halfway through the Crossroads without passing out.
"I didn't think you were losing your mind," he said, voice gentle. Emmrich squeezed Rook's hand. "I see people go to graves to talk to people they've lost all the time, and thought that the Infirmary was serving that purpose for you. Grief is a complicated, tangled thing, and I don't think anyone was shaken in their faith in you when you would go in there. I... I did wonder why you never spoke of your mentor, though."
There. Encouraging, entirely meant, and it meant he could come at the urgent thing sideways.
"When we've eaten, rested a little more, and cleaned up, I think we should go to the Necropolis again. It can give you a little space away from here, and you can see that I mean it, that people go there to mourn." He hated hiding something from Rook, but this was a need. A horrifyingly important need, both for their chances to win, and for him to know that Rook had for certain wanted him and hadn't been unwillingly manipulated into being the greatest distraction Emmrich had ever encountered.
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— He didn't know which was worse: Being seen as crazy or a failure.
Rook braced himself for whatever outcome, save for the one that actually happened. He flinched when Emmrich squeezed his hand only to visibly start to let his guard down when the man laid at least one fear to rest. So to speak.
"I don't blame you for assuming I was hiding away with this," Rook managed a reticent grin because he could admit to his shortcomings. "You've always had to drag the truth out of me when I get inside my head."
Emmrich had been only ever patient with Rook when he brushed aside concerns over his well-being or when any conversation veered too far into the territory of his past. Of course, the man was going to assume Rook was merely being evasive and obstinate again. The shame he felt that he didn't have time to settle before Emmrich suggested they leave for the Necropolis soon.
"What?" Rook blinked, giving Emmrich a perplexed look. "Why would we risk going back to the Necropolis? I appreciate the gesture, really Emmrich I do, but this is hardly the time."
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"After Weisshaupt, we as a team took care of unfinished business to get our heads on straight, but you didn't. You didn't seem to think you had something to settle. Now we know differently. We cannot risk going forward, you cannot risk going forward, with that hanging over your head. Not when we'll be facing Solas along with Elgar'nan."
Somehow he summoned up the strength to sit up, though oh, did his whole body hate him for it. Rook might say he'd lost weight, but Emmrich felt incredibly heavy.
"Please come with me, Rook. I believe it's important."
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Unfinished business buried the lede somewhat, but Rook didn't have it in him to argue the point. They were both exhausted and Rook was only recently convinced of the idea he didn't actually deserve every awful thing to happen to him in his life. Primarily because of the man not sitting beside him. He scrubbed a hand across his face and sighed. Emmrich could have just asked him to run across a bed of hot coals, and he would have gladly.
"Alright," Rook relented as he put his arm out to steady Emmrich and pressed his brow to the other man's temple, "I trust you. But first, you need to rest, love."
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"Of course." He would agree to anything to cure Rook. Or rather, he would agree to anything Rook asked. His love deserved so much better than he'd gotten in his life, and the horror of Solas controlling Rook's memories, manipulating them, needed to be firmly in the past.
"Since we've finally dragged me upright, let's try eating and then resting again." It's going to be even more difficult to get up a second time if he doesn't eat and drink something now.
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Right now, they needed to put this business with potential lingering blood magic to bed and then hopefully themselves for the scant few hours more they could spare. They weren't any use to the team if they were dead on their feet. Besides, Rook suspected that Emmrich wouldn't want to confront the gods without a proper shave first.
"I've already eaten," Rook explained as he moved away from Emmrich to let the other man get situated so he didn't risk falling over while trying to take his morning tea.
It was then that Rook shuddered with a powerful yawn that nearly unhinged his jaw. He slid down until he could unceremoniously lay his head on Emmrich's lap, half curled with his legs tucked and one arm wedged between Emmrich's back and the headboard for extra support.
"Can you just talk to me? About anything, really. Still feels like days since I heard your voice properly."
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"Manfred's learning how synonyms work, did you know?" Emmrich's joy in Manfred was one of the easiest topics possible. "It used to be that he'd stand in front of Johanna's skull and repeatedly call her bad. But he used the word criminal the other day! He's learning nuance! I'd explained that bad is such an easy word and takes so little into consideration, and now he's using three-syllable words. Imagine."
If this was to be his legacy, a Curiosity mage who understood nuance and love, then oh, what a legacy he would have. And if this was to be his life, Manfred, Rook, and himself, then he was the luckiest man to ever live.
Emmrich started in on the porridge then, despite his lack of appetite. His body needed it and he was not going to neglect it now that he had his other needs met.
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Emmrich's fingers winding through his hair settled him already. Rook could feel his breathing start to even out, and his muscles unspool from all the tension he had been carrying. The man could stroke a rabid dog into a complacent pup.
"Did he really?" Rook laughed the first real peal of laughter in what felt like ages. "Can't say which I'm more proud of him for - learning a new word or no doubt sending Hezenkoss into an apoplectic fit.
You know what they say, though-" Rook paused to let loose a loud yawn. "Once they learn to talk, they learn to talk back."
He knew Emmrich flustered at Rook's gentle teasing of referring to Manfred as their spell-flinging skeleton son. So naturally, he had to make the insinuation the moment the opportunity presented itself.
"You, Emmrich," Rook said after a stretch of comfortable silence. "It occurred to me that I have no idea where you live. Nevarra, obviously, but not the Necropolis, surely."
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"Manfred would never!" he said, acting shocked at Rook's assertion. It would be a good sign of independence if his apprentice did have some minor acts of rebellion, though. Stealing his fancy pens to do homework barely counted as they were indeed fancy. "Assan is the one who talks back." He still sounded fond; he adored the griffon, and thoroughly enjoyed his and Davrin's conversations regarding their charges.
"And I do live in the Necropolis. My duties are there, the classrooms are there, the lecture halls, it's incredibly convenient. I could get a place outside of it, but why? The Necropolis is breathtakingly beautiful, and its etheric flow is unmatched outside of here, the Crossroads, and the Fade." Which is probably not a selling point for Rook. Emmrich tried again. This wasn't just about the perks for him living there. He wanted to sell Rook, a Grey Warden, on a reason to live somewhere the Blight wasn't much of an issue.
"My quarters are perfect. I enjoy the Lighthouse, of course, but everything in my place is coordinated to be warm and comfortable. The couch, the chairs, the bed, and it's all quite sturdy. Including the desk and table." They hadn't been picked with that idea in mind, but he couldn't deny his thoughts had drifted toward being bent over and taken on top of every piece of furniture in his apartments by Rook.
"I even have an extra room that's served more as a repository for current projects than anything else, which means there's space for someone else's interests and belongings." Not like Rook has much, but they can work on that. "Or hobbies they've always wanted to try."
He'd always allowed Manfred his own space, so there's no concerns there either. "And the kitchens are very close by." There, he could touch on the way sometimes Rook seemed to turn into a bottomless pit. "What else could someone want?"
The question wasn't purely rhetorical. If Rook needed additional things, Emmrich would move Fade and Thedas to make it happen. Eventually. Right now it was about all he could do to move the empty bowl and cup back to the nightstand. Did he have the strength to scoot down to a prone position again, or could he just sleep like this? His back would hate him later if he tried it.
With a sigh Emmrich patted Rook's head. "I think I need to lie back down, love."
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Then Emmrich went into colorful detail about his life back in the Necropolis. Rook was lulled into feeling as though he were being told a story while trying to picture every detail in his mind. All the while, he couldn't quite help the sinking feeling in his gut. The apartments sounded wonderful, with how Emmrich described them, and he had no doubt they were as comforting and homey as the older man conveyed it. Rook had even chuckled when he cottoned on to Emmrich's emphasis on how sturdy the furniture was.
All of it told as if Emmrich were at his home's threshold, holding the door open to invite Rook in. That was what gave Rook pause, his hand flexing over the rumbled bedsheet in thought.
— It was beneath the earth, out of the sun, no matter how many tapers and candelabras adorned it. Rook would take a difficult day with the sun beating down on his back rather than an easy one in the dark. He liked visiting the Memorial gardens because Emmrich loved them, and the man's affections for anything beyond Rook's understanding were infectious and terribly endearing.
But life with miles of rock above my head? Good practice for the Deep Roads. The thought came unbidden, and the moment it settled in his mind, Rook's heart lurched. That was unkind, and Emmrich's lack of subtlety was genuine and made a warm feeling pool in his chest. Rook was being ridiculous if (—when) they came to that fork in the road, and it wasn't as if Emmrich would keep him down there like a canary in a mine.
"Close to the kitchens? You'd want for nothing," Rook said full well knowing he'd be the bane of its staff whenever his condition demanded he be fed as if he were a one-man standing army.
"It sounds lovely," and Rook meant it as he stamped down his fears.
Emmrich roused him from his overthinking with a gentle pat on his head. Rook obliged by sitting himself upright onto his knees, waiting patiently for Emmrich to lay back down again. Once he had, Rook situated himself where his upper body was between Emmrich's legs, his head pillowed on the other man's sternum, and his own legs curled up so they weren't hanging off the edge of the bed. This was how Rook preferred to sleep when he could. Despite the disparity in their size and weight, Rook liked to listen to Emmrich's steady heartbeat while holding him. For his part, Emmrich was less restless in his sleep with Rook on top of him.
"Can't wait to see it."
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"I'll show you when we drop in," he said instead of voicing any of his concern. He could not act and speak out of fear alone again, especially not before Elgar'nan and Solas were dealt with, and extremely especially not before he'd gotten more rest.
The rest might have posed a challenge despite his exhaustion if not for Rook climbing on top of him. There was nothing more relaxing, more comforting, than the heavy weight of the other man holding him down and making him feel grounded and safe. Emmrich exhaled slow and long, relaxing underneath his love. This was how he wanted to fall asleep for the rest of his life.
"You're perfect, love," Emmrich murmured. His eyes were already closed, but he did manage to wrap his arms around Rook's upper back this time before he fully surrendered to sleep.
Again his sleep was uncharacteristically deep and long. While sleep debt could never truly be repaid, his body still had greater demands than usual. It also meant that when he woke up, he woke a bit disoriented. Then again, it wasn't like he'd been keeping track of much of anything while trying to free Rook.
"What day or time, day and time, is it?" he asked without opening his eyes, tempted to add year.
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When not at the mercy of the occasional Blighted archdemon-induced nightmares, Rook had always been a sound sleeper. He had cultivated a talent over the years for being able to fall asleep anywhere. Sleep came easy, whether it was in the middle of the forest on the ground or nodding off in full plate while on disciplinary patrol duty. The times he had missed morning reveille back at Weisshaupt because he was still out like a snuffed candle were as innumerable as they were notorious.
— Still, nothing compared to being in someone's arms. Rook reveled in the warmth of another person held close and found himself drifting off with ease, wrapped in a sense of safety and contentment.
When Rook finally wakes up, Emmrich speaks, but Rook's head feels as if it were stuffed with cotton; everything sounds drowned out and far off. There was marked effort simply to raise his drowsy, heavy head. One side of his face felt damp from the line of drool that puddled there and likely on Emmrich's shirt.
"Was'at?" Rook slurred with his tongue heavy on every consonant. Another thing about Rook was when he was either exhausted or in his cups, the harsh and more...provincial Ferelden accent came out of him with a vengeance. "S'all 'ways fucken light out 'ere, innit?"
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Tiredly Emmrich patted Rook's back. "It is. I thought there was a chance you'd been up since last we spoke. No matter.
He was still so exhausted, but they were likely getting to the point where more sleep would not help just yet. At least he was awake enough to feel scratchy and unclean. He needed to bathe, he needed to shave, and he needed clean clothes. Thank everything Manfred had been willing to take over laundry duty while he'd worked on getting Rook free. Actually thank the whole team for stepping up while he'd worked; Emmrich hadn't been on cooking or cleaning duty for those weeks.
"Let's tidy up, get you actually speaking words, and then go to the Necropolis, shall we?" And there was work yet to do. Myrna and Vorgoth trusted him to the point that at least he wouldn't need to alert them before taking Rook down into the areas with more... complicated... enchantments, but he had to get Rook there without alarming the man. The thought of Solas seeing Emmrich like this was repulsive, but it wasn't like Emmrich had possessed the ability to be otherwise.
He patted Rook's back again, meaning it as encouragement. There wasn't a way he was getting up with Rook's dead weight limp on him. He simply couldn't budge that.
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He would let the comment about speaking 'actual' words slide, mostly because he barely registered it as he was instead focused on not letting Emmrich go. Once they were up and dressed, it meant time would continue to move forward and that this quiet little pocket of a moment they found sanctuary in would burst. It was enough that when Emmrich patted him a second time, Rook buried his head in the other man's chest and made a petulant groan of protest.
Giving ground, Rook was only willing to meet by rolling off him and curling into the blankets on the other side of the mattress. Beneath the layers of the goose featherdown comforter was the muffled plead for what sounded like 'just give me a moment.'
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"My love. Please." It was probably going to seem odd that he was pushing on this. Emmrich was walking a tightrope and he had no idea which way the wind was coming from so all he could do was try to keep moving forward.
He got up himself and stripped off his shirt on the way to the wash basin. There wasn't time for a full bath, he decided regretfully. It was needed, but not as much as Rook needed to definitively be free of a god. A quick spell warmed the water and he washed his face and chest off before bringing the basin over next to the bed.
"Here, Rook." He'd let the man wash his face as well before wiping anything else, though a glance in the mirror told him quite how unkempt he looked. There was no fixing his hair without cleaning it and he would have to deal with accepting that for the first time in several years. Ugh. He could not, however, accept the state of his facial hair. It itched far too much now that he had the brainpower to notice. Emmrich grabbed his kit and proceeded to do the quickest shave of his life, glancing over to check on Rook as he worked.
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"Alright..." Rook agreed with a phantom of hesitation coloring his words, but ultimately, he let trust win out.
The first few minutes of Rook's unwelcomed eviction from their bed consisted of stretching and groaning as joints popped back into place. Everything was done in silence where ordinarily Rook might have teased Emmrich for being so meticulous or said he sort of liked the 'scruffy' look on the other man.
Water splashed across his face, and Rook was now awake enough to start the process of putting on a lighter set of armor. Much as he didn't like this, he doubted Emmrich was leading him into some great peril. Not long after, Rook was dressed and awkwardly standing in the middle of the room like a recruit awaiting orders.
"Ready when you are, then?"
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Emmrich wiped down the rest of himself quickly and pulled on clean clothing while Rook got ready. By the time his partner spoke again, Emmrich was finishing up and pulling on his boots.
"Excellent." He grabbed his staff and quickly lead the way out, hoping to not run into anyone who might ask extensive questions.
Thankfully Neve was the only one in sight. "Emmrich? Rook?" She looked puzzled and concerned.
Emmrich met her gaze directly, praying that she picked up on the fact that he couldn't elaborate. "There's something we need to attend to at the Necropolis. We may rest there a little longer after; you can bring the others if you feel we tarry too long."
Neve, as always, proved quick on the uptake. She smirked as if Emmrich had just disclosed they were off to get laid. "Mmhmm. Don't have too much fun, you two." She of course had questions. Thankfully he would be able to answer them all after, and once she'd waved he resumed heading for the eluvian.
It felt good to have earned her faith as well.
That feeling faded the further he and Rook traveled, though. His tension built to the point he could taste bile in the back of his throat by the time they were entering the lower levels, the point at which Solas would notice his hold slipping if he was paying attention.
"Just a little deeper, dearest." His voice reflected how tense he felt despite how he was fighting to seem fine. If they got through one more door he could pull out his staff, activate the safeguards with scarcely a gesture, and be certain he'd severed their connection. Rook just had to follow him in to a room he'd never seen before with clear spell-casting runes and shapes on the floor, walls, and ceiling, filled with candles that would flicker to life the second Emmrich cast.
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—It was all giving him greater pause. He heard the half-heartedness in his own voice and knew he spoke out of habit rather than out of anything genuine. Something had quietly passed between her and Emmrich that he couldn't pin down. On the walk to the eluvian and through the Crossroads, any attempts to gauge Emmrich's motives came up short. The man was normally an open book and Rook found his wealth of trust in him gradually being spread thin.
Perhaps the worst part was Rook didn't suspect Emmrich of anything ill-intent, never, but he could not shake the feeling this sojourn into the Necropolis wasn't for anything good. The worst parts of him distantly likened the uncertainty looming over them the further they traveled to a lamed workhorse waiting to be taken out back to be put out of its misery.
They stood at an unfamiliar threshold — or, rather, Emmrich seemed ready to proceed where Rook dug his heels in and came to an abrupt halt. The hairs on the back of Rook's neck went up, and he stood stiffly as though spring-loaded, prepared to bolt.
"Emmrich..."
Rook held the man he loved with a wary stare. They never discussed it much, but Rook didn't mistrust magic so much as he avoided it the same way he wouldn't go grabbing his sword by the bladed end. Not seeing it as inherently one thing or another, but even in his ignorance, he sensed something different, off, about this.
"What is this?"
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"Trust me, for just one more minute, love, please," he asked, quiet and low. Emmrich took Rook's elbow and somehow, despite the fact that the man could easily toss him aside, managed to tug his beloved in.
The door closed behind them and the runes and lines flared to life with a flick of Emmrich's wrist.
"I'll explain everything in a moment." So long as Rook didn't knock him out and run. The candles started lighting up one by one until only the center candle was left unlit. Emmrich drew his staff then, flooding the room with green and gold light. His focus on the last candle was intent, breathing irregular, and if Rook was listening closely he might hear the closest thing to a prayer Emmrich had murmured in years.
The tension in the room was palpable until the last candle burst into dramatic flames that seemed impossibly tall. Emmrich sagged like a puppet with its strings cut.
"The connection is fully broken," he said, sounding as if he'd been running for miles. He felt like he had. "Solas cannot touch you any further."
He looked at Rook then, warily, very aware of the fact that he'd just used magic on his partner without asking, his very Fereldan partner. All he could do was hope Rook agreed that this was an important enough cause.
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Rook barely registered the hand at his elbow before he felt his feet move as if independent from the rest of him. Rook didn't resist or show any sign he would. They could have been standing on the edge of oblivion for all that it mattered. Emmrich wouldn't have needed to do more than crook his finger in Rook's collar, and the latter would have gone willingly because it was Emmrich.
They stood in the rune-covered room, and Rook scarcely had a moment to process its layout before the candles began to light themselves. He regarded the drawn staff as if it were a blade but found his only reaction was to freeze. Rook's senses were assaulted by too much happening at once. Green and gold light flooded his eyes, and the air itself was both thinner and somehow more oppressive. It was like something else was in the room, prodding and accessing him in a way that made him feel cold and small. The faint sound of Emmrich's voice should have been his anchor, but even he sounded uncertain.
— And then it was over, and it was just a room again.
The name Solas lances Rook as he flinched before the meaning of what Emmrich was saying pieced itself together. Rook's expression cycled from concern for Emmrich's well-being to confusion to being stricken by something he couldn't define with the candlelight casting hard shadows on his features.
"...Oh."
Rook said nothing more and instead stepped away as he moved to sit on the dais steps with his back turned. Arms folded on his knees and a slump to his posture, nothing about his bearing implied anger but rather that Rook was in a state where he wasn't sure what to think.
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this thread: *turns into smut* neve: people are dying
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