Chapter Text
Solace, 9:54 Dragon
It happens one day on a sunny summer’s day in Tevinter, with not so much as a cloud in the sky. Emmrich is just enjoying a day of peaceful domestic bliss when he overhears Rook and Manfred talking. He’s got his arms full with a large wicker basket of clean, folded laundry as he’s walking through the corridor to their bedroom. As he passes by the staircase, he hears their voices carrying from the living room:
“I won’t… tell daddy.”
Emmrich stops dead in his tracks. Manfred’s hesitant tone sets off alarm bells the size of boulders in his mind. What?
“Good. I think I’ve got him fooled. If he finds out, it’ll make him sad. We can’t have that.”
“No…”
He can’t be hearing what he thinks he’s hearing. Rook had given him such a vicious tongue-lashing for involving Manfred in his schemes — deserved, it must be said, but still, how dare he now turn around and do the same?
But he’s only hearing half of a conversation, he reminds himself. The scheme need not be nefarious in nature.
“His replacement is very convincing, at least. Almost as pretty.”
His blood freezes in his veins. His what?
“Daddy will be mad… you didn’t ask.”
“Can’t really ask him this, can I?”
“No…”
“Fortunately, he’s been so busy he hasn’t noticed a damn thing.” Rook actually laughs. Emmrich’s hands tremble as he tightens his grip on the laundry basket. Has he? Why wouldn’t Rook just tell him if he’s been too absent-minded? Have they not—? “Thank the Maker for that. It was a nightmare to get out of the house without him seeing when we were still getting used to living here.”
Rook has been sneaking out of the house? Emmrich feels short of breath. What is happening? And why is Manfred so calm about it? He gave Emmrich no end of troubles when he was… misbehaving. Has he somehow backslid so terribly in his behaviour without noticing that Manfred deems Rook’s conduct excusable? Surely not?
“Reminds me,” Rook then says, “are you coming with me tonight?”
“Yes! Fun!”
Oh, Emmrich thinks. That’s why.
“We’ll wait until dad’s asleep. We’ve got to act as if everything’s normal, alright? And we’ve got to be quicker about it tonight. I barely had time to wash last time.”
Needing to wash before he creeps back into bed. Emmrich tries not to think about why that might be, but the most obvious possible answer presents itself to him anyway: to get the scent of another man off of him. Emmrich spares himself further hurt and quietly slinks away to the bedroom. He sits on the bed in total silence, utterly shell-shocked, for at least twenty minutes. Silent tears stream down his face as he tries, in vain, to comprehend what he overheard. It can’t be true. It just can’t be. The longer he sits, the further he becomes removed from any sane, rational interpretation of what was said.
Then, the indignation appears, followed quickly by the rage. How dare Rook keep secrets from him? Even if Emmrich optimistically infers that Rook hasn’t been unfaithful, he’s roped Manfred into whatever he’s doing. Something Emmrich swore to his parents’ graves that he would never do again. Perhaps he foolishly assumed that Rook, too, would adhere to his solemn vow on the matter. Not so, apparently.
For the rest of the day, he avoids Rook while he thinks of what he’s going to say. The questions he might ask. The urge to disappear and maintain what’s left of his pride is adamantly present, but Emmrich ignores it. He’s a married man: the least he should do is hear the full story. Even if what he’s heard leaves very little up to interpretation. By the time he’s cooking dinner, he’s murderous. Manfred wisely keeps his distance. Rook, however, appears none the wiser. He walks into the kitchen as if he wasn’t discussing a strategy to sneak away from the house with their son this afternoon and asks:
“What’s for dinner?”
“Whatever’s in the pot,” Emmrich replies shortly. He refuses to move his gaze away from the bubbling stew in front of him.
“Oh dear,” Rook chuckles. “What did I do? Did I leave my underwear on the floor again?”
Emmrich damn near snaps the wooden spoon in his hand in half. He takes a deep breath and doesn’t answer Rook’s question.
“Aw, c’mon. What’d I—”
He moves away from Rook’s touch as though it scalds him. Rook has the gall to look hurt.
“What’d I do?” he asks, his voice small, fragile. The words linger in the air like mist.
“What did you—?!” Emmrich raises the steaming hot, dripping spoon at him. It shakes with the force with which he’s holding it. “Have you been unfaithful to me, Rook?!”
Rook appears stupefied. For fifteen solid seconds, he doesn’t say a word. His lips move, but no words come out.
When he finally manages to find his voice, he huffs a nervous-sounding laugh. “What?”
“Have you?”
“Where is this coming from?”
“Answer the question!”
“Not until you tell me why you’re asking in the first place. I don’t appreciate unfounded accusations, amatus.”
“You’ve been leaving the house at night, have you not?”
“I— Yes, but—”
“And you’ve been washing before you return to our bed?”
“That’s hardly a crime—”
“I overheard your conversation with Manfred!” Emmrich finally shouts. “About how I am to be left in the dark! How he’s not to tell me anything. How my ‘replacement’ is ‘convincing’ and, I quote, ‘almost as pretty!'”
Oh, how it stings to repeat the words. How it makes his heart ache in his chest. Yet, the pain of speaking them into reality does not begin to compare to the feeling that crawls up his spine — vicious and sudden like a serpent’s bite — when Rook laughs.
“Sweetheart—”
“I am not your sweetheart!”
This only serves to make Rook laugh harder. Emmrich feels the faint tingle of lyrium activating in his blood. Control, he reminds himself. He must maintain control. Though now would be the time to fly off the handle, he owes it to himself to keep calm.
“Yeah, you are,” Rook then says, all the tension drained from his body. “Not a thing you can do about it, either.”
He says it with such confidence that it momentarily takes the wind from Emmrich’s sails. What? He feels thrown for a loop, and stammers, “W-Where have you been going at night?”
Rook shrugs, saunters up to the stove and dips his pinky into the stew. “Out philandering,” he replies casually, tasting the stew. “Mmh. Delicious. No, yeah, I’ve been fucking the innumerable hordes of men that want me. It’s been exhausting, honestly. You should come with me next time. Take some of the load off.” After a beat of silence, he adds, “Or loads, I suppose.”
“Are you… Are you mocking me, Rook?”
Emmrich has never in his life understood the expression ‘shit-eating grin.’ Not once, until now. Rook’s self-satisfied, smug smile fits the description to a T.
“I am. This time, I am.”
“How dare you! Explain yourself!”
To his bafflement, Rook moans. “Maker, you’re fucking ravishing when you get mad.”
“I— That’s—” Hardly the talk of someone who would seek his pleasure elsewhere. Emmrich blinks and finds himself at an utter loss for words. Then, he recoups. He must have answers. “What could possibly justify forcing Manfred to withhold information from me?”
“Who says I’m forcing him?”
“Don’t argue semantics with me, Rook—!”
“I’m not. He offered.”
Somehow, that hurts worse. “He… what?”
“Sweetheart,” Rook says again, holding out his hands. When Emmrich doesn’t move, he stubbornly crooks his fingers and motions for Emmrich to come closer. “I’m not telling you a bloody thing until you come over here — that’s right. There you go. Sweetheart, you overheard something you weren’t supposed to, and proceeded to draw the worst possible conclusions.”
With Rook’s hands in his own, he suddenly feels strange. As if nothing he thought makes sense any longer. “I’m—”
“It’s alright. After everything that’s happened, I… Of course this would put you on edge. But just to be perfectly, crystal clear: I’ve not so much as thought of another man since the day we met. Manfred and I are working on… a surprise. All is well.”
It's entirely within the realm of possibility that he overreacted. Emmrich swallows.
“I… Perhaps I… I've come to expect having the rug pulled from under me. So much so that I… took it as confirmation that…”
That he will never have what he wants the most. Something that's been reaffirmed over and over throughout his life. Rook rubs his arms.
“I know. Next time, just come talk to me. It's okay. I love you.”
Heaving an enormous sigh of relief that does nothing at all to abate the embarrassment he feels, Emmrich fusses with Rook's collar to hide his trembling hands.
“Will you at least tell me what you're up to?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Not even to put my weary mind at ease?”
“No. Not a chance.”
Emmrich purses his lips and, feeling petulant and humiliated, mutters, “If I'm to be left alone without your warmth for comfort, then… then I fear I shall be too preoccupied with your comings and going for us to make love. Not until I know what you're up to.”
Rook laughs at him. There's no mistaking it. Then he shrugs, takes Emmrich’s hands and kisses them.
“That's fine. It’s only three more days, and it’s customary for us to spend the night before apart, anyway.”
“Before what — apart? Entirely?”
“Yeah.”
“Out of the question.”
“But—”
“No. Whatever this surprise may entail, I veto this idea entirely. I… I call upon my natural right as your husband to sleep by your side.”
He’s pulled into Rook’s warm embrace. That smug smile is yet to leave his face.
“Are you saying you’ll miss me?”
“Rook.”
“Out of my vast armies of suitors, I think you’re the only one that has a little crush on me, you know.”
Maybe Rook has earned the right to be a little mean after what Emmrich’s just hurled at him. Still.
“Are you quite finished?”
“It’s alright. There’s no shame in it.”
Emmrich tries to push him away. Rook, as always, easily resists his attempts.
“You are — let me go this instant — insufferable!”
“Aw! But I like you the best, I promise— N-no don’t— Hhaha— Stop that— Hhahahha!”
Lured out of his curmudgeonly mood, Emmrich tickles him until he’s got tears in his eyes, and eventually bestows upon Rook the kiss he’s so clearly angling for.
“You’re a menace.”
“And you’re a very, very silly man. Do you truly think me capable of infidelity?”
No. He doesn’t. Maybe Emmrich is so afraid of having been lured into a false sense of security — again — that he’s unwittingly turning it into a self-fulfilling prophecy.
“I… I must admit I’d not given your ability any consideration.”
“You should’ve.”
“You’re right. I’m… I’m sorry, darling. You deserve better from me.”
“Don’t even know where I’d find the time. Every free minute I have I try to spend with you.”
“I-I know…”
Rook nudges his chin with a knuckle and sighs. “It wasn’t the Necropolis and the promise of a home that bound me to you, you know. It was you. It’s always been you.”
Maybe moving away from his home of forty years was more impactful than he cared to admit. Much like the aftermath of the war, Emmrich has grossly underestimated how much it would affect him.
“Must you leave tonight?” he asks softly. Now that he knows it’s happening, he’s certain to lay awake until Rook returns to him.
“Yeah, but since you know now, there’s no reason for us to be sneaky. We’ll go after dinner. That way we’ll be back before you’re off to bed.” With a grin, he adds, “Can’t deny my husband his goodnight kiss.”
“I suppose there’s no chance you’ll allow me to accompany you?”
“None.”
Emmrich sighs and wraps Rook up into his arms. “Three more days, you said?”
“Yes.”
“And then all will be revealed?”
Rook chuckles and burrows his nose farther into Emmrich’s chest. “Yeah.”
“Is it… Is it for me, specifically?”
“You already know the answer to that question. I’ve told you.”
“Have you?” Emmrich tries to think. When was he told of a surprise?
“You might not remember. When I told you, we were both… compromised. In different ways.”
Racking his brain produces no results. Perhaps it’ll come to him after he’s had some time to settle down from all the unwarranted anxiety today.
At dinner, Rook pushes his chair a little closer to Emmrich’s than usual. He eats his stew with a spoon in one hand, and Emmrich’s thigh in the other. When dinner ends, Emmrich understands why Rook left the house under the cover of darkness until now: it proves almost impossible to let him go.
He ambles about the house, doing small chores here and there while his thoughts wander. Trapped in an unending cycle of agonising over why he lost his cool today, then telling himself that all is well, then looping right back around to wondering what possibly possessed him to get so upset based on nothing but conjecture. He spends hours staring off into space as various household items pass through his hands. A dustpan and a duster, a cloth, a broom. Dishes, cutlery, glasses. The laundry he never did put away.
Even as he’s lying in bed, staring at the canopy over their bed, he can’t stop thinking about it. Worse, Rook isn’t home yet to distract him.
And Emmrich foolishly declared that he wouldn’t make love to him. He must’ve lost his blasted mind from the moment he woke today. Possessed by the ghost of a man much more insecure and frightened of his own shadow than he is.
“Hah.” A short, self-deprecating chuckle. As if. Emmrich’s only ever been possessed by his own nonsense.
Be nice, Rook’s voice chastises him in his own head. He rolls onto his side and hugs Rook’s pillow to his chest. What surprise could possibly warrant being out so late, and so often? More importantly, what sort of occasion could require them to spend the night before apart? One he’s already been told of, no less.
They’d been thoroughly compromised, Rook had said. That could mean anything: there were… many such cases. Manfred is involved somehow, and he’s hiding something from Emmrich that would make him sad if he were to know about it. On top of that, it’s something he’s not yet noticed, which implies that he should be able to already.
But nothing’s changed recently, other than the obvious. Emmrich hasn’t the faintest idea what he could be referring to. The lack of available information is immensely frustrating.
Think, he insists to himself. There are but very few known facts. One of them is that it’s an event that traditionally requires them to spend the night before apart. No Nevarran holidays or festivities come to mind that have this as a custom, which means it might be Tevene in origin. But Emmrich’s knowledge of Tevinter traditions is foggy at best, and he comes up empty. If specifics do not provide answers, then he must broaden his query. A masquerade or masked ball of sorts could, in theory, require participants to at least arrive separately. If Rook has a costume that Emmrich is meant not to recognise him in — laughable, truly, as Emmrich would pick him out of a crowd of a thousand duplicates or more every time — he might want to dress separately. Depending on the time the event takes place, this could mean it’s most convenient for them to spend the night apart.
But that doesn’t answer why Rook seems to be so involved in the organising of such an event. It’s surely not for his birthday, and Emmrich’s is still many weeks away.
Emmrich sighs deeply. He’s getting nowhere. At least, he thinks as he strokes his wedding ring with his thumb, Rook is soon to return home. The thread that connects them is getting shorter and shorter, and it’s not long before he hears the front door closing, Rook coming up the stairs, walking through the hallway, opening the door—
“There you are.”
“Darling!” Emmrich sits up and reaches for him. Rook happily obliges, stepping as quickly as his cane will allow him to take his hand. “Welcome home.”
Rook puts his cane against his nightstand and sits on the bed. He kisses Emmrich’s hand and takes a deep breath.
“I would’ve been home even sooner if you’d been downstairs.”
Emmrich’s heart flutters. “Were you successful in your endeavours?”
“We were.”
“I’m glad.”
“And you? How was your evening?”
“Oh, it was… not particularly eventful.”
Rook’s arms briefly stop moving in the midst of the process of undressing himself. He quietly rids himself of his clothes and crawls beneath the sheets, opening his arms.
“Come here.”
Warmth. Home. Safety. Emmrich kisses his chest, then his lips. “I’ve missed you, darling.”
“I missed you, too. I promise it’ll be worth it.”
“I’ve spent ample time trying my hardest to work out what your surprise might entail.”
“And?”
“… I’m yet to find a conclusive, logical answer.”
Rook chuckles softly. “Really?”
“Yes. Why? Is that so unlikely?”
“I honestly thought you would’ve figured it out by now.”
Therefore, the answer can’t be that complicated. Another frustratingly opaque clue.
“Then I’m sure I’ll have my answer before too long.”
Rook’s answering smile tells him nothing.
“Did you mean it when you said you weren’t going to fuck me?”
Ah. Perhaps it shouldn’t be surprising that he’s the first to bring it up.
“That’s rather a difficult question for me to answer, darling.”
“Oh?”
“If I renege on my word, it becomes meaningless.”
“True.”
“But were I to follow my heart, then I would be forced to do so.”
“I see.”
“There is also the fact of the matter that you rather enjoy a bit of… forced abstinence, don’t you, darling?”
“I suppose there’s no use in denying it.”
“Of course, I should also very much like to bask in the time we have together now that you will be absent for rather more than I’m used to.”
“Of course, yes.”
“Therefore, you understand my dilemma.”
“I do.”
Only then does he notice Rook’s hand moving beneath the sheet, right where it dips between his legs.
“Darling.”
“What? I’m listening.”
“You’re touching yourself.”
“Very astute of you, professor.”
“The operative word was ‘abstinence’, I do believe.”
“Oh, I never agreed to that. I’m not stopping you from joining me, either. I said it was fine if you didn’t fuck me.” He grins. “Prior knowledge dictates that every time you don’t fuck me for a couple of days, you will try to make up for lost time in the span of a single evening. Always a lovely time.”
Without so much as a hint of shame, Rook spreads his legs wider and — by the sound of it — plunges his fingers into his cunt. “Mmh…”
Emmrich considers his options. Briefly, but he does, in spite of the fact that his cock’s long made the decision for him, already hardening against Rook’s hip. He adjusts himself and, deciding that he has very little to lose and much to gain, presses the glans up against Rook as he strokes himself.
“There you go,” Rook whispers approvingly, “good man.”
“Really, dearest.” Emmrich’s breath shudders against Rook’s neck. “If your desire was for us to masturbate together, there was naught for you to do but ask.”
“I know, but this is much more fun.”
“Goading me into accepting your offer?”
Rook shifts until he can use his right arm, too. No doubt spreading his labia with one hand as his fingers on the other stroke and rub at his clit. Just the visual is enough to make Emmrich whimper.
“That, and making you wish you could fuck me when you can’t.”
His hand is pushed away and replaced by Rook’s warm, slick hand a moment later. With a few — perfect, glorious — twists of his wrist, he’s fully coated Emmrich’s cock in his slick.
“Ah—! S-so wet already, darling?”
“You know I love watching you touch yourself.”
But they’re covered by the sheets. An oversight most grave. Emmrich makes use of the opportunity to throw them off with his unoccupied hand, all the while thrusting into Rook’s slick, tight fist.
“Mhh! As much as I’m enjoying this, Rook— Ahh— Does this not violate the terms of our agreement?”
“It’s not my fault your instructions were unclear, professor.” He squeezes Emmrich’s cock and gasps in response to Emmrich’s answering moan. “Besides… Are you going to complain about me stroking your fat, pretty cock?”
His ‘instructions’, insofar they were his at all, were perfectly clear, as far as he’s concerned. Unfortunately, Rook could accuse him of murder in this state and he’d probably acquiesce.
“N-Never, darling, but as you’re liable to stop—”
“I’m just showing you what you’ll be missing. That’s all.” Rook pulls his hand off and goes back to stroking his clit between two fingers, pinching tightly, not at all teasing himself. “Mhh fuck, go on then.”
Emmrich sits up to sit back against the pillows, giving both himself and Rook a better view of the proceedings. Rook nestles himself in the crook of his arm and thrusts into his hands, moaning sharply when Emmrich’s free hand comes down to tease a nipple with a single fingertip.
“Slow down, darling,” Emmrich murmurs into his ear as he strokes his cock. Gods, Rook’s cunt is glistening with slick, his clit already so hard between his fingers, so eager to come. “Don’t rush yourself.”
“N-Nothing you’re doing is helping to slow me down, amatus. F-fuck—!”
“Recite the chant if you must, my darling. I’ve no intention of allowing you more than one release.”
Rook whines. “You bastard—”
The insult goes straight to his cock. Rook always insults him when he’s desperate, when he hopes that his foul mouth will get him what he wants. By now, all it does is make Emmrich hard. He squeezes his throbbing cock and moans, “Mmh. Very good.”
“You fucking prick. What’s stopping me from having as many as I want?”
“Me. I’ve many ways to impede you from doing exactly that, and many more still to punish you should you somehow manage it regardless.”
Rook’s back arches slightly and he whimpers. “F-fuck. D-do you?”
“There are spells that will disallow you from attaining release,” Emmrich tells him, eyes glued to his rapidly working fingers over his clit. “And alchemical brews that will drive your need to a boiling point so all-encompassing that I’ll have you writhing on our bed with insatiable desire. I can tell you, from experience, that these can be combined quite safely.”
“Mmh—! F-fuck, that’s—”
Nearly enough to make him come, apparently. He takes his hands off and Emmrich watches, mouth watering, how Rook’s clit twitches and strains between his labia. Emmrich moans into Rook’s ear and asks, “Would you like me to do that to you, darling?”
“Y-Yes! Fuck!”
Willingly submitting himself to be in the palm of Emmrich’s hand. He strokes faster, precome joining the slick, the obscene shlck of his hand as he passes over the head joining their chorus of pleasure. “I’d not resist the temptation then, as I’m sure you’re aware. You’d be mine for the day to do with as I please.”
Rook grits his teeth, arches his back, grabs the sheets in one hand and Emmrich’s thigh with the other, but he’s powerless to stop it. The very thought, it appears, tips him over the edge, and he comes untouched.
“Fuck,” he whimpers pitifully, legs trembling, “fuck!”
“Oh, darling,” Emmrich breathes, in awe, stroking himself faster. “Oh! Had I known this excited you so— Mhh!”
“F-for reasons,” Rook begins, utterly out of breath, “you d-don’t need to know about yet, M-Manfred will be staying with Neve for a w-week t-three days from now. D-do it to me then. Please.”
Emmrich’s mind tries to insist that he ask questions about what could possibly possess Rook to make such a decision without Emmrich’s input, but his body demands that he listen to the meaning behind the words: a week alone. The house to themselves. And Rook — dearest, beloved Rook — offering to let Emmrich use him however he wants, all the while being forced to endure his pleasure without release.
How he’ll beg, plead, writhe and whinge. Insulting Emmrich at every turn even as he’s being fucked hard. Slick down to his knees with nothing to show for it. Feral, mindless lust overtaking him until he can’t think straight and breaks the spell himself, playing right into Emmrich’s hands and taking out every bit of amassed frustration on him. Mind-numbing pleasure at the hands of a Rook who can see nothing but his own desire anymore.
He shudders, hips arching as he fucks up into his fist. “Ah— Hah—! I’m— I’m going to come, darling—!”
“Get over here. Come in my mouth, please— Please—!”
He barely makes it, seed already striping Rook’s chest before Emmrich can firmly place the glans to the flat of his waiting tongue, but the rest of his spend shoots down Rook’s throat as he slowly pumps his cock until his thighs quake. With one last, shaking groan, Emmrich forces the last drop of come from his cock, watching as it disappears upon Rook’s tongue. Rook moans and gathers what little missed its mark upon his fingers, then sucks them clean.
“Thank you.” Rook stretches languidly and waits for Emmrich to retake his spot within his arms. Emmrich happily lets himself collapse to Rook’s chest, wrapping himself around his body and wishing he didn’t have to leave again tomorrow night.
A night that, it turns out, is very much a reprise of the last, and so is the next. Thirty minutes after a spectacular orgasm — all over Rook’s cunt at his request, so that he could finger himself to completion with Emmrich’s seed — on the last night before whatever Rook’s prepared is supposed to happen, Emmrich is still awake while Rook snores loudly next to him. The same questions haunt him still, and so do the known facts.
The night before is traditionally spent apart. Rook and Manfred are both involved in organising it, yet Manfred will leave them for a week after. Something has already happened — to him, to his surroundings — that Emmrich could have noticed. Rook expected him to have figured it out already, but he hasn’t. Therefore, the answer must be frustratingly obvious, and there’s something that is impeding Emmrich from seeing it. But what?
And then, a seemingly unconnected memory presents itself. Like rolling marbles colliding on the ground. Rook returning home two nights prior. What was it he said?
‘There you are.’
As if he hadn’t been perfectly well aware that Emmrich was upstairs, but no. He’d said that he’d have been home sooner if Emmrich had been downstairs, as if he fully expected him to be. Emmrich frowns. Is the enchantment on their rings malfunctioning? That can’t be the case: Emmrich can still perfectly well tell where Rook and Manfred are at all times.
But the inverse, he realises, needn’t be the case. If Rook’s ring doesn’t work, Emmrich would be none the wiser, but why wouldn’t it?
His interest piqued, he conjures a small flame to look at his wedding ring. It looks the same as it always has, except—
Except.
‘Almost as pretty.’
Manfred had been the one to pick out the centre setting. Perfectly faceted green gems that he pored over for hours until he found two that met his meticulous — and inscrutable — standards. Emmrich had agreed that they were perfect. The gem that sits upon his ring at present, is not. Now that he’s inspecting it so closely, he notices that the metalwork isn’t nearly as fine, either.
‘Daddy will be mad you didn’t ask.’
Because Emmrich always gets upset when Manfred takes his rings without asking. Following that logic to its logical conclusion, Emmrich can only assume that his and Rook’s wedding rings have been taken. That this is somehow part of the larger plot—
Emmrich gasps as the pieces fall into place at last, and realisation finally dawns. He rolls onto his side and grabs Rook’s shoulder to shake him awake.
“Rook? Rook!”
“Mmh-mm— Snrk— Huh? What? What’s wrong?”
“Are you— Is the— The— Have you and Manfred—?!”
Rook groggily rolls onto his back, sighing through his nose. “I was wondering how long it’d take you. Go on, take your time.”
His brain feels like static electricity. Why? How?
“… Are we to be wed tomorrow?”
Rook’s smile is sweet, sleepy, and confirmation even before he speaks.
“Yes, we are.”
“B-But—”
“Manfred, me, and some others have taken care of everything.”
“But… my— my robes—”
“Have been cleaned, pressed, and are waiting for you on the inside of my wardrobe.”
“You weren’t meant to see them!”
“I packed them, sweetheart.”
Right. He must have. Emmrich had quite forgotten that they were still in his closet at all.
“And what of the rituals—”
“I’m walking you to the altar,” Rook mumbles sleepily, yawning, “like you wanted me to.”
Forgoing what he had intended to do originally. Emmrich stammers, “I— I… Why? Why go through all this trouble—?”
“Because we never wanted to cancel the wedding.” Rook turns on his side to face him, laying a hand upon his waist. “I know you only said so to get out of… a difficult situation. I let you get away with it, and I shouldn’t have. So it fell to me to make it right. It may not be the wedding you dreamed of having, but—”
Emmrich cuts him off with a kiss before he can finish his thought, eyes already brimming with tears.
“Rook…” he sobs. “Darling Rook…”
“Our marriage is our own,” Rook whispers, holding him tightly. “But I know it meant the world to you to be able to share our joy with others. I wasn’t going to let anyone take that from you.” He smiles tearfully. “Not even you.”
“I… I can’t wait.”
“Me neither.” They kiss, only slightly impeded by their mirroring smiles. “Guest list’s been trimmed down a bit, though.”
That was to be expected. “So long as our friends are in attendance—”
“They will be… and a few others.” Rook shrugs. “People we love, who love us.”
“And… and our rings?”
“Manfred has them.”
“I did notice, in the end. Evidently, I’m not nearly as busy as you imagine me to be.”
“I’m sorry to have had to deceive you.” Rook kisses his forehead. “But it was for a good cause.”
“The best cause. The most worthy. They were made for exactly this purpose, Rook. I’d forgive you if there were anything for me to forgive.”
They silently embrace, and Emmrich finds himself overwhelmed by yet more tears. His body vibrates with excitement, affection, gratitude, a cornucopia of joys he can’t possibly contain and that flow freely from his eyes. Rook cradles his head to his shoulder and rocks them back and forth, as gentle and loving as if he were lulling a child to sleep.
“I love you,” Rook whispers eventually. He pulls away and takes Emmrich’s teary, snotty face between his hands. “You bring such… happiness into my life. So much excitement, adventure, knowledge, love, I — we’ve been through so much together, and you’re still… You are… peace. Home. My Emmrich, my amatus. I'm yours. By law, in body, and very soon in soul as well.”
Emmrich sniffles and mumbles, entirely bunged up, “Our souls have long since been each other's, my darling.”
Rook slowly shakes his head, his eyes so very, very warm.
“You are everything to me, Emmrich.”
Taking Rook's hand to press it to his heart, hoping to somehow convey just how strongly his love bursts forth with every beat, Emmrich sobs. “And you to me, my heart. My life. I love you, too. So much, s-so much—”
Rook wipes his thumb over Emmrich’s chin and huffs a soft, teary laugh. “Still the most beautiful man I've ever seen, even with snot and drool dripping down your chin.”
“All yours,” Emmrich laughs, more tears following in tracks already laid, “snot and all, if you’ll have me.”
“I wouldn't have you any other way.” To his surprise - and mild disgust - Rook kisses him. “But we should sleep, amatus… It's our wedding day tomorrow.”
“How c-could I? I shan't sleep a wink.”
“Then you'll have to make do with a cuddle. Come here.”
Hardly an offer he'd refuse, and Emmrich settles down with him — after he's wiped his face clean. Rook slots himself against his back, his hand over Emmrich’s heart once more. Exactly where he needs to be.
“Goodnight, amatus.”
“Goodnight, my darling.”
Tomorrow, Emmrich thinks as he closes his eyes. The fulfilment of a lifelong dream that he'd given up on in favour of simply having a husband at all. More fool him for not realising that the husband in question, who knows of all the dreams Emmrich’s had to give up on in this life already, would refuse to let him miss out on another. As he squeezes Rook’s hand tightly to his chest one last time and the last tear wrenches itself free from between his lashes, he imagines them exchanging rings at the altar in front of their loved ones.
Emmrich falls asleep with a smile on his face that feels like it won’t leave for days to come.