Obviously Emmrich has immaculate dental hygiene, but what if he chipped a tooth in a fight? Gold filling, right? Are other Mourn Watchers sporting some shiny grills?
I'm so excited to share this! I treated myself to some art.
Thank you so much to the very talented @svanha for producing such a triumph! I hope you will continue to create more of the ever beloved Emmrich Volkarin!!!
By far the worst aspect of Veilguard IMO is the elvhen gods being the Big Bad. I know it was set up in Inquisition and I know gods being evil tyrants isn't exactly a novel concept, but it would have been a lot more interesting if Solas wasn't immediately proven right about the Evanuris when they broke out of their Fade prison. I'm picturing Elgar'nan/Ghilan'ain playing a similar role to Solas, manipulating Rook but also giving them genuinely helpful advice, maybe offering them the power to achieve what they want most if they side with them over Solas. Solas, meanwhile, still tries to get Rook to kill them so he can tear down the Veil.
But BioWare hates the elves, so we gotta have the Evanuris immediately unleash the Sixth Blight and make the Dalish look like idiots for worshipping them. And not only that, the gods of the indigenous-coded race's religion have to be responsible for everything bad that ever happened.
Agreed. The villains should have had more subtlety. They easily could have come across as victims wrongfully imprisoned by the sinister Dread Wolf. They totally could have played into Rook's distrust of Solas. The whole game could have been about whose side should Rook believe as you slowly work to uncover the truth.
Finally finished something I've been working on for a while but had to put on hold when I got sick. This fic goes along with a Cameo I bought from Nick Boraine. Thank you @hugoingellvar for this gorgeous screenshot!
The air in the Memorial Gardens swirled with magic and motes of the Fade, the scent of Shroud's Kiss tangling on the breeze. The beauty was mesmerising. Vae's heart beat wildly in her chest, a frantic rhythm in the sudden silence after Emmrich's kiss. He had pulled back, his lips curved into a smile that was both enraptured and utterly triumphant.
"What a day of unexpected splendour."
His voice was a low, resonant hum that pulsed through her, settling somewhere deep in her bones. Before she could speak, he leaned in again, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of her neck and earning a rare, vulnerable gasp.
Precisely what he wanted to hear.
His kisses were generous, each one a spark of heat that sent a shiver down her spine. He knew exactly where to press his lips—just below her ear, along the line of her jaw—teasing nerves she never knew existed.
"Emmrich..."
She tilted her head in a shameless invitation for more, her knees buckling as his thin moustache brushed against her skin. Her hands clutched the fabric of his coat, trying to pull him closer, to answer him, to return the intoxicating pleasure he so freely gave.
But he wouldn't let her.
With gentle insistence, he caught her wrists, not to restrain but to guide. He brought her hands down against the monument beneath her, then released them, letting his palms trace the curves of her arms, her waist, her hips. It wasn't possessive; it was worship. He cradled her as if she were a sacred text, his fingers learning the lines and contours of her body with a scholar's dedication. His focus was absolute, every touch designed to draw a sigh, a shudder, a soft cry from her lips.
He was drawing her towards a dizzying precipice, and she was more than willing to fall. But she wanted him to fall with her.
"Emmrich," she breathed. "What should I—?"
Lost in the haze of sensation, she felt it—a faint, almost imperceptible tremor that wracked his frame. It was so slight she thought she'd imagined it, but then it came again, a quiver that had nothing to do with passion. Vae's eyes flickered open, and she saw his brow furrowed, lashes pressed tight in deep concentration. He wasn't lost in the moment, as she was.
He was fighting something.
"Emmrich?"
Worried, she reached up and cupped his cheek, her thumb stroking his pale, weathered skin. He froze, like he'd never been touched so gently in his life. Then a shudder coursed through him, and he all but melted into her, a soft sigh spilling from his lips. It was the sound of a man breaking a long fast, of someone starved for contact finally allowing themselves a taste.
Sadly, the moment was fleeting.
As quickly as he surrendered, he pulled away, denying himself the satisfaction. He wouldn't meet her eyes, choosing instead to pepper light, reverent kisses along her knuckles before returning to the column of her throat. His caresses resumed with renewed fervour, his hands finding the places that made her moan, his mouth trailing her skin. It was as if he were trying to distract her, to overwhelm her with pleasure so she wouldn't notice the turmoil broiling beneath the surface.
But she did notice.
She realised with a sudden, sharp clarity that every kiss, every ministration was for her. He was a masterful lover, attuned to her every response, but he was holding himself at a distance. He was giving everything and taking nothing. He was making her feel like a goddess while treating himself as a mere acolyte, unworthy of her altar.
"Emmrich, stop," she demanded, pushing gently against his shoulders.
He obeyed instantly, his hands tearing away from her as if they were poison. Finally, he looked at her, and his expression made her heart ache. All his usual poise, his elegance, his confidence had vanished; in their place was a raw, naked fear, his eyes wide with remorse.
"Did... did I do something wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with guilt. "Did I hurt you?"
"No," she blurted, shaking her head. "Maker, no. It was—you were incredible." She took his hands in hers, gripping them tightly. "But... you're not enjoying it, are you? This is all for me. None of it's for you."
He swallowed, his gaze dropping to the ground. He couldn't deny it.
"What's wrong? Talk to me," she begged.
He was quiet for so long she thought he wouldn't answer, the only sound the hissing of flames and wisps. Then, he let out a pained, shaky breath.
"I'm... afraid," he admitted, the words barely audible. "Terrified of scaring you away."
Their eyes met, his own filled with a lifetime of shadows.
"No one has ever stayed, despite my efforts. Even our fellow Mourn Watchers find my... preoccupations morbid. They see my devotion to the dead as a distraction from the living. Or they simply can't bear my... fits in the night."
Vae went to speak, but he gave a short, self-deprecating chuckle.
"Worse, I'm an old man. A dusty relic, closer in age to the skeletons than one so vibrant. You, my darling... have every reason to leave."
Vae stared at him—at the deceptively cheery man who feared his own loneliness, who spoke passionately of the grand cycle of life but couldn't fathom his place within it—and a wave of fierce, indestructible love washed over her. Reaching up, she caught his face with irresistible tenderness, smiled, and pulled him into a kiss.
This one was different. It wasn't timid or questioning; it was a promise. All the reassurance she could pour into a single, intimate gesture.
Emmrich flinched when their lips met, but only for a heartbeat. Then he was kissing her back, a desperate, hungry moan rumbling in his chest as he finally, finally let himself indulge. Let himself bask in her flavour, in her hold—in the gift she needed him to take.
He had waited so terribly long for this.
When she pulled away, they were both panting, reeling with bliss and yearning.
"I'm not going anywhere," she vowed. "I love you, Emmrich. All of you. The grey hair, the early rising, the man who speaks to corpses and spirits." She paused, her hand drifting over his heart. "The man who fears death but faces it every day for the sake of others. That is the very essence of bravery."
A choked sob escaped him. His eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, widened as if her words were a revelation he couldn't comprehend.
"And I want you to feel good, too," she added, her fingers sliding to his buttons. "Don't try so hard to be perfect for me. You already are. Now let me share myself with you."
Emmrich's throat clenched, overwhelmed by the joyous, unfamiliar feeling of finally being wanted. He blinked, turning his head to wipe at his eyes before looking back at her, his expression one of profound, reverent awe.
"All my life," he whispered, "I've immersed myself in books, both written by others and born of my own hand. I thought I knew every direction a story could take... thought mine was already over. But I was wrong. You, my darling... you are the story I never dared to hope I'd be part of."
Vae's breath hitched, tears welling in her eyes, but she didn't wipe them away. She wanted him to see the sincerity, the way he affected her. Seldom did she cry, yet knowing he believed her, that she had broken through his insecurities, meant everything.
"Then..." She smiled, lacing her fingers with his. "Let's go write the next chapter."
Trembling with desire, Emmrich pulled her into his arms, his voice like velvet against her ear. "An entire novel, my love."
Together, they left the quiet solitude of the gardens, and walked towards the warmth of his apartment.
I love love LOVE thinking about Emmrich blushing. Is it just his ears? Cheeks? His whole face and neck? That man has spent most of his life out of the sun. His complexion is the perfect canvas to display a pink flush.
Rook looked in the mirror and frowned. The dress was quite ill-fitting. She knew she needed appropriate attire to sneak into the gala, but the revealing gown was clearly tailored to emphasize Teia’s figure. “I'm not sure I can pull this one off.”
“Nonsense”, said Teia. “This here? Is spare room for him to put his hands.”
The mirror reflected the alarm in Rook’s face. “Whose hands?”
Teia grinned as she gathered some of the extra material to pin in place. “The professor. You like him, no?”
Rook’s words failed her. Was it that obvious?
Teia arched her brow as she continued to work. “That cannot be a revelation. You keep smiling at him even when he's not looking.”
“I don't think he's interested,” Rook said quietly.
Teia scoffed. “Remind me to tell you about Viago sometime.”
Teia gently gripped Rook’s shoulders and turned her so that they were facing one another. “It's true your physique isn't as generous as mine but a man like that hasn't been waiting for some buxom temptress. No, it's clear he loves with his whole heart. Therefore, you do not need to seduce his eyes. You must attract his heart.”
Teia’s words sunk deep down as Rook thought it over. Apparently this was the rallying speech that Rook didn't know she needed. A slow smile spread across her face. “Thank you, Teia. For the dress. And the advice.”
thinking about how during your romance with Emmrich, he's basically holding himself back, holding his breath, the whole time. And then post epilogue, how it feels to receive the full force of his love. Unashamed unrestricted love. Like stepping out into the sunshine.
Emmrich during his early scenes: always has a pleasant friendly smile with his new young colleague and keeps a level of professionalism so nothing untoward is thought of him no matter how pretty they are.
Rook, so horny they can’t see straight: you hauve sooo much control ;) ;)
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