Written by: StrugglingGranola
Illustrated by: Hanna
Rating: Explicit
Content Warnings: Please see the work for complete warnings.
Fandom(s): Dragon Age: The Veilguard
Major Pairing(s)/Character(s): Emmrich/Rook
What if—
Rook was dead. Gone, succumb to the dastardly world beyond his reach. Gone.
And he went with her—his mind, his heart, his soul.
But she came back.
Emmrich brought her back. Raised her spirit, carved her scars, rouged her lips.
Rook was gone, but She came back.
His darling, his creation.
More from StrugglingGranola: Tumblr: @strugglinggranola | AO3
More from Hanna: AO3 | BlueSky
So y'all. This is what I've kept from you. I truly hope you enjoy this twisted gothic Emmrook (sort of!) You'll find out soon enough!
Thank you @elefluff for EVERYTHING you've done for these two crazy......emphasis on CRAZY kids. They're wild. I couldn't have done this without you and I'm honored we got to work together.
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A headcanon: If Grave Gold is seen as something eternal, it stands to reason that giving it to someone while they’re living means that there’s a wish for part of them to keep on existing, even after death.
If their body is found with those things, it’s a testimony to who they were. (I imagine the Mortalitasi keeps records of who has what when buried, just in case something comes up missing) It helps to preserve moments in time, like rings in a tree.
While I wouldn’t necessarily call it a status symbol, it’s definitely symbolic of someone who is seen and cared for. Even the ability to buy something for oneself is probably a privilege. And it’s a well known cultural mark of Nevarra itself, beyond just fancy jewelry.
Grave gold is also there to acknowledge that death lingers on the horizon. If one dies right then and there, you are buried with the things you curated for your body.
With all this said, I’d like to point out the significance of an orphan girl never receiving any Grave Gold through her life. If she dies, which may very well be soon, what will there be to remember her by?
people make jokes about how people who weren’t allowed to watch spongebob as a kid are always talking about how they weren’t allowed to watch spongebob but as one of the aforementioned people who wasn’t allowed to watch spongebob my insight on the matter is: you would not BELIEVE the amount of times spongebob comes up in normal adult conversations. i don’t often think about him of my own accord but people reference him and i have to say. what? and they say. it’s from spongebob?? and i say. oh i never watched spongebob. and they say why? and i say. i wasn’t allowed to. and then a few weeks later it happens again
And then you just nod and smile, and laugh where appropriate. My parent's were out here anti-spongebob but letting me watch Rated R movies every night with them, because 'it's with us' and 'it's not real.'
Adepts & Pretenders: Part 1
Bluebird Moon | 3.2k | M |
Very important missions require very competent people.
OR
Two's company, Three's a crowd.
Written with @hedwigoprah 💖 This fic takes place between Interlopers and Less Than Sold. You can read it here or over on AO3
The hideout was quiet as everyone listened with rapt attention to Tarquin doled out new missions and responsibilities. Usually it was on an as needed basis with people coming and going at all times, information kept to singular circles. But the Venatori were working on something in the background, something leadership didn't like, so they were bringing people in tighter. This was a need-to-know kind of set up.
He wasn't sure why he was here. He wasn't sure he could handle being here right now.
"Mercar, you with us?" somebody asked, he wasn't sure who. His head had been somewhere in the foggy remnants of a dream he couldn't interpret.
"Mmhm," he nodded slightly in confirmation, but it wasn't entirely the truth. He just couldn't focus on what was in front of him.
It had been another nightmare. One that, once again, didn't belong to him. The girl with the strange eyes had appeared - Veryl, her name was - but instead of being chased by a demon through a shifting landscape, she had been trapped in a memory. She had seemed so scared, almost helpless the first time they'd met this way, but this time he'd seen a different side to her. Torturing someone. A fire. A dark secret she definitely wouldn't have wanted someone to see.
And as far as dark secrets went… she'd seen his too. The night he'd faked his death. Burned down his family's estate. But his memory had taken a turn. They'd caught him trying to flee, and imprisoned him. Again. Not even in his own home this time. But a dank cell, chained and alone. A thought that scared him more than most.
The worst part of it all was, she knew. She knew his real name. Where he came from. His entire identity, his very freedom was at risk now. Who was she? Was she connected to the Venatori? If so, he was fucked. He'd be better off dead than back in their claws. And this girl now had the power to make that happen. His only hope was that she didn't care enough to tell anyone what she'd seen. But he probably wasn't that lucky.
No, with his luck, this was just a prelude to some sick fortune playing out.
Running might be the only option. Jericho started making a list of things he would need should the worst outcome turn out to be inevitable. If she was a threat, and he needed to hide again. Perhaps The Viper would be willing to help relocate him to somewhere further away, cover his tracks.
Truly, he couldn't help feeling how deeply unfair this was. He always knew the possibility was slim, but never zero, for someone to recognize him. But there was no way he could have planned for this. For her.
What if she was out there, right now, looking for him? Asking about him. Talking about him. Bringing up his forgotten name to people and alerting them to his existence. She'd seen both versions of him, old and new. The only true comfort he had was knowing that she didn't know his chosen name. Didn't know who he was and wasn't connected to. She didn't know where to start looking for him.
Still… there was that inkling in the back of his mind…
She too was far more than she appeared.
"Jericho!" Quin called out, likely for a second time based on the echo in his ears. Jericho's eyes left the spot on the table he'd been studying and lifted to meet the other man's gaze. A flicker of concern was quickly erased as Quin stood to his full height, staring down across the table.
His face reddened in guilt and embarrassment and he tried his best to focus on Tarquin before he really got into trouble.
"You're dismissed." It was meant for the rest of the room, Jericho knew to stay in his seat. Other Shadows ribbed him playfully about getting into trouble, and quietly speculating about what he'd done. He could barely give them a smile.
Quin sat in silence with him, hands steepled as he contemplated a far wall.
"Viper wants to give you a lead." He announced quietly after a few minutes, sliding a small stack of papers across the table.
Another nod. "What is it?"
Jericho tried to school his features, unsure if he had the mental space to comprehend the words. The papers stopped in front of him, large swaths of text swam in front of his eyes, swirling and ebbing. The lack of sleep and stress was catching up to him.
"It's high profile, and hush hush. You're to talk to no one but myself about this." Quin rose from his seat and came to stand near his end of the table. He flipped through a few pages, explaining more things that Jericho couldn't hear. He feigned interest as his checklist kept growing. There were so many things he'd need to do if he ran.
He'd need to make sure to take clothes with him, of course. His notebooks… anything that could identify him would either have to come with him or burn. He'd probably have to change his name again… he'd finally gotten used to this one.
"… in origin. You've worked with Lovesius before, but we weren't sure if her expertise would be enough, so we've included another contact to be sure. You'll be meeting them both at the swan in thirty minutes."
"… Who?" He attempted to focus again. The name was familiar. Who was the second?
Mallory Lovesius. A local artifact expert. Short, dark hair, mage, nice? If he remembered correctly, the last time he'd tagged along with Gladius, she'd been congenial enough and helpful with the artifact they'd brought to her. Perhaps a touch too chatty for true field work, but he could make it work if her knowledge was pertinent.
Quin's finger pointed to a few paragraphs that were most likely a profile write up. Mallory must have been first, taking up most of the words, the second profile contained only a single line. Tarquin released the pages before he could get a better look.
"This new contact is untested, but they could determine the outcome of this mission. A recommendation by way of the Threads." The last part was accompanied by a grumble and a barely contained eyeroll.
"Threads?" he mumbled under his breath. A pang in his chest for a different reason. He squashed that one down.
As Jericho started to rise, he reached for the stack of papers, ready to take on something new. Perhaps he could get his mind off of what drew it back into the circles he'd been running around in. A puzzle for him to figure out.
Tarquin's hand on his shoulder pulled him up short, stopping him before he could leave the meeting room.
"If you can't handle this, you need to tell me now." His voice was low, just between them, even though they were alone.
"I'm alright. I've got it." He hoped his voice sounded more sure than he felt.
"I know you've had a lot going on lately, but you can't be absent for this. It's too important." Tarquin's face was always serious, but there was obvious concern for Jericho's capability. "You were Viper's first choice, but don't think I won't pull you off of it. I need to know if we need to find someone else."
"I'm fine, Quin. I can handle it. Promise."
---
It was too early in the day for the Swan to be busy and as Jericho's eyes adjusted to the dimly lit bar, finding Lovesius wasn't difficult. She really was quite small, her legs swinging from the barstool, sipping at her drink while she waited. There was no sign of another contact, hopefully they weren't late. He hadn't had time to go over the documents before leaving The Shop and had no idea who he should be looking for.
Tarquin's words still rang in his ears. There had been several moments afterward dedicated to collecting himself and compartmentalizing. He wouldn't jeopardize this. He wouldn't give them a reason not to trust him. He could do this.
He still chanted the words in his head even as he moved a chair to announce his approach. It seemed to fail, when the woman didn't turn around or notice him.
"Mallory?" He tried again, feeling uncomfortable using her first name.
"Jericho! I didn't know I was meeting you!" Lovesius enthused with an over dramatic gasp and big smile. She brushed her hands of the food she'd been handling and offered a handshake.
He briefly shook her hand and gave her a small smile, but found he couldn't match her enthusiasm.
"You're looking well!" She patted his arm, lingering in a friendly touch. "I haven't seen you since we talked about that old Tevene vase, did you ever find out who the owner was?"
A simple retrieval mission, nothing huge. He'd been sent along with Gladius to test how much he could handle, what he'd be good at. The owner hadn't been anyone important, but fetching the stolen family vase was the price for information. So they stole it back.
"We did. I'm surprised you remember…" There hadn't even been anything that particularly interesting about that mission. Or the vase. He'd largely forgotten about it until she brought it up. She either had a good memory, or didn't get a lot of jobs.
"Oh I'd never forget a visit from the Shadow Dragons!" She spoke a little too loudly, drawing the attention of another patron standing at the other side of the bar. Jericho gave her a subtle look and raised his glass to the other man.
"Oops, I suppose I need to learn to be more covert if we're going to be working together." Mallory thankfully adjusted and hushed her tone, but it didn't stop the wide, obvious smile, that still did no favors for the level of suspicion.
Sighing under his breath, Jericho reached through the Fade with his mind, quickly finding the man that had overheard and wiping his memory of the last minute. He hated to do it. Hated messing with someone's head. But at least the effects of this would be minimal. Like the man had briefly spaced out, nothing more. But they needed to be careful.
"Speaking of working together," He was anxious to get out of the Swan now, too aware of any eyes that might watch them. "Have you seen our other colleague?"
Mallory took another sip of her drink and then spoke around it. "You just missed her. She said she would wait outside, and that she'd be back in twenty minutes if you hadn't shown up."
Jericho nodded, looking toward the door, expecting his contact to walk in at any moment. If it was to be another woman with little to no field training, he just hoped she was more reserved than Mallory was. He couldn't imagine trying to wrangle two cats into a bag.
"Odd duck, that one," Mallory said quietly while he watched the door. "She seemed antsy, like she didn't like the way the Swan felt. I tried to tell her it was one of the safest bars this side of the bay, but I turned around and she was gone."
She shook her head, "I couldn't see much past her hood, but she's so tall, it's no wonder she worries about sticking out. With that fair skin and the way she talks? Nevarran accents are rare around here."
Note to self: keep secrets away from Mallory.
"Wait…" Jericho's thoughts halted amongst her chatter. "Nevarran?"
Mallory nodded emphatically, "the information I got said the item was from there. Though really, I should be insulted that they would even need to contact a Nevarran expert, my grandmother was friends with a Nevarran and they gave me tons of books on rare artifacts and their origins, I could practically write my own book on…."
Mallory's constant jabbering droned on in the background as the door to the Swan swung open, bringing in a torrential downpour of rain. A cloaked figure stalked through, the door slamming behind them.
As the stranger lowered their water logged hood, horror drained the blood from his face and his stomach bottomed out.
Long, blonde hair.
Pale skin.
Mismatched eyes.
The murderous wraith that haunted his nightmares stood before him, surely to deliver him to his doom.
---
Veryl slowly removed her gloves, finger by finger, as she observed the quiet bar. Fuck she was already sick of this place. The near constant rain, the clouds, the smell of fish lingering everywhere. The Cobbled Swan was at least nicer than it was outside, but with as little sleep as she was getting, there was no room to appreciate it.
She ran a dry hand through her hair, pushing the loose strands through back from her face, and followed it with a stretch of her fingers. The bones popped and cracked. She twisted her bad wrist to provide the same relief.
Right. Let's get this shit over with.
"Shot. Whiskey," she said. The bartender did as demanded and she plunked down a silver. Her last silver. But the burn of the liquor was worth it.
Her eyes slid down the bar as she knocked it back. 'Rory', as the woman had introduced herself, sat next to another body now. Veryl had seen them go in, and decided to give them time if they wanted to chat, she had no patience for it. Rory was talking animatedly now, though it seemed one sided at best.
The other body kept their eyes carefully trained ahead.
Veryl squinted.
Well, well…
Maker, fuck. Of all the bars. In all the towns. She'd know him anywhere. If not for the formally acquired posture that he tried to pretend he didn't have, she would have guessed it by the pure determination that set his jaw ticking.
It seemed he knew her too, by the way he kept his eyes locked on the over-chalked sign behind the counter. A daily special on porridge and potatoes could only be read so many times. She'd already read it fifty times while tuning out Rory's inane stream of consciousness.
He looked different in her dreams. And she could be sure this wasn't a nightmare, the cat scratches from earlier still ached on the back of her hand. He was much more solid than the presence she'd become familiar with.
The whole thing felt suspicious. The Shadow Dragons had contacted her out of the blue, a random note on the board outside the Mug. They very specifically needed a Nevarran artifact expert, and the timing of it all felt a little too… convenient.
But on the other hand, she needed any lead she could her hands on. The pay didn't hurt either. She slammed the glass down on the bar and finally made her way toward the pair that occupied the other end.
"Ingellvar," she cut across whatever Rory was saying to introduce herself. Rory paused to look from her to the man on her other side.
Deep breath. He turned to look at her and fixed her with serious stare. "Mercar. Jericho Mercar," he said pointedly, as if daring her to question it.
Veryl nodded. It was a comfortable lie, one he used a lot. Tevinter Nobility, Venatori, a false identity, in both name and appearance. It reeked of a scheme. She just didn't know if it was intended for her or someone else, and she needed to find out.
She studied him openly and kept her own features closed off.
"I've worked with Jericho before!" Rory happily announced. "He and another," she dropped her voice to a whisper, "shadow dragon," and bounced back to a normal volume, "visited my shop once and we all went on a very daring escapade together! Isn't that right, Jericho?"
The other woman turned to him with an expectant look and a flutter of her eyelashes. Veryl could have snorted.
Jericho didn't notice, only glancing briefly at Mallory out of the corner of his eye as another warning to keep quiet. "I don't know if I'd call it daring, necessarily," he muttered. "But successful, yes."
"Been doing this awhile, have you?" She kept her voice bland, uninterested.
"Yes, you?" He kept his answers short, curt. Unwilling to let her pry too deeply in present company. Or any company.
Veryl gave nothing but a simple shrug.
"The most daring thing I've ever done." Rory claimed loudly. Her hand patted Veryl's arm in a bid for her attention. "Oh, It was very exciting! There I was, just another rainy day, when two handsome men walk in…"
Well, talking wouldn't be an issue. Veryl gave her new companion her eyes and positioned "Jericho" within the same line of sight. He looked the same as he had the first time. Shaggy hair, a mess that hid his bright blue eyes, and a beard that disguised the strong jawline that was no doubt a familial trait. Did the Shadow Dragons know they had a Venatori in their midst? What was the goal?
"… and then they chased the Venatori! V, I was so frightened! I don't know what I would have done without them. But I guess I wouldn't have been there without them either." She laughed. "It's all my neighborhood could about for week. They still ask me to tell the story any time they see me."
"Sounds like you'll have a new one to tell them." Veryl murmured in response. "We'll need a plan though." She leaned around to look at Jericho directly. "You're in charge right? What are we doing?"
"Well…"
"I thought we could start with a friend of mine!" Rory said, practically falling off her stool to turn to Jericho. "She's a rare antiquities dealer, and a very good one. She has a keen eye, you'll love her."
Veryl watched the man strategically move his arm away when Rory reached to touch him.
"As good a lead as any, unless you have any objections…?" He kept his eyes trained carefully on Veryl. Rory swung her bouncy curls and bright green eyes her way.
She affected a blank look. "I'm just here for the coin, you're the boss."
Rory swung back to get his response.
Loyal to nothing but her payment. Jericho couldn't decide if that made his identity more or less safe in her hands. "Good," he turned to Mallory. "Lead the way."
Veryl thought she might watch the woman kiss his cheek just for saying yes. Instead, she clapped her hands and hopped from her stool and this time it was a struggle not to laugh. The difference between their heights was truly comical, Rory barely reached her shoulder. With her disposition as cheery as it was, Veryl wondered if she could use her as an arm rest and get away with it.
"Excellent!" Rory said as she made her way to the door, reaching for her cloak off of the rack and passing off Veryl's, which conveniently dropped to the floor before she could grab it. Jericho's had no such issue.
He was quick to lean over and grab the coat, dusting it off a bit before handing it to her with a somewhat apologetic look.
Veryl took it, careful not to let her hands near his. His eyes tracked her uncomfortably closely, some kind of emotion behind it that she didn't like. She pushed outside, willing to wait in the rain if it meant not having to deal with him or his manipulation.
no cause listen, I am so proud of this one in particular. It's actually one of my favorites that we've written and such a good place to start with Bluebird Moon
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Victor Frankenstein after achieving the impossible and building a fucking person from scraps of the dead: Oh god, ew, ew it's ugly! Yucky! Yucky! Gross! Ew! Ew! Yucky! Yucky! Gross! Ew!
....i don't know where i'll find time to actually write all the ideas coming into my head, but it doesn't matter, okay?
now — to what really matters here
coffee shop au for emmrook. but they both hate coffee
tian likes sweet drinks — like cocoa, juice, lemonade, etc. he works at a coffee shop because it's easy to combine with his studies
emmrich likes tea. he gets a small black tea with sugar at the coffee shop every day — except weekends, obviously — because it's on his way to work
one day they start talking. at first it's just a few phrases — about the weather, or city transport, or something else like that. but little by little...
well, you know how it happens
i just find this concept incredibly fun because it's a coffee shop au with a barista who doesn't even drink coffee and a regular customer who only buys tea. and also it's the only acceptable version of a coffee shop au for me because i have anxiety and coffee is my personal enemy
ahh, god, give me time and strength to write, please
Day Two of Dragon Age Kiss Week was bound to be Davrin and Assan.
Vibes of "Father and the pet/child he didn't want but absolutely loves" got me, what can I say.
Modern alternate universe Emmrich Volkarin is living rent free in my head. Do I have more of these in store ? Yes. Do I plan to make even more ? Also yes.
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…there’s always someone bent on breaking the world.
... so I slipped and drew Dragon Age again.
Did I have 50 free hours to spend? I didn’t.
Do I have a rekindled obsession with the franchise that formed me as a person and I haven't hoped to get more of? Yup.
Can I spend these 50 hours I didn’t have hyperfixating on my obsession with barely managing to do anything else besides (🤡🤡🤡)?
Oh certainly!!
I have this Dragon Age Artbook that has a tapestry with characters' faces all over the first 2 pages and I was always so in awe and I wanted to do something like that too. I can’t be more hyped, I haven’t hoped after 10 years to have more of this world (that I can talk about 3 hours straight no kidding) and still can’t really believe it please tell me I haven’t dreamed it!!
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