#harry writes

The transition was quick, unsurprisingly. What did surprise him was the fact that the only pain he felt was the residual pang of the loss of his beloved.

He blinked, taking a slow, shuddering breath to steady himself, though no air filled his lungs this time. A mortal need; a final grasping for a familiar sensation. Comfort.

His eyes wrenched shut when that didn’t help him, his ragged, useless breaths getting quicker and more helpless, threatening to drag him into oblivion.

“Darling.”

The voice was a balm, one he didn’t expect to hear for a long time. His breaths slowed, as a hand reached for his shoulder; a soft and gentle squeeze, then another on his other shoulder. He shuddered, but steadily he calmed.

He glanced back; the sad smile and tears in his eyes were the first things he noticed. Emmrich wasn’t looking at him, but at something to their right. He followed his gaze.

“That’s— I’m— We’re—“ Laird spluttered, looking between Emmrich's face and his own corpse, kneeling reverently over Emmrich’s grave.

“Yes,” Emmrich chuckled, the meaning clear as a bell despite the spiralling incomplete thoughts. “This wasn’t how I hoped you would return to me,” he said, his voice wavering, barely a whisper. “You were supposed to have so many more years ahead of you.”

Their ages. It didn’t matter at all to Laird, but it always sat at the back of Emmrich’s mind, gnawing with doubt.

You will outlive me, Laird, they argued once, so long ago. I should not heap you with that burden.

He was technically correct, at least.

“Maybe,” Laird said. His beard twitched as he smiled. “But those years would have been without you. Why would I want that?”

“I would have waited for you,” Emmrich said. He would have waited forever if he had to. As long as it took.

“I know.”

Emmrich watched as Laird crossed over to his body; of course this would be where he would go, clutching tightly at a bloom of Shroud’s Kiss with one hand, the other pressed so tightly in the loose earth of the fresh grave, as if he was trying to get as close as he possibly could to his beloved before he passed.

“I suppose Manfred is truly independent, now,” Emmrich noted thoughtfully. A melancholy note to his voice, which otherwise swelled with pride. Manfred would surpass him one day; a pity he would not be alive to see it.

“He’ll be well taken care of, we both saw to that.”

Emmrich sighed. “If only we—“ he sighed again, shaking his head as he chuckled. “Well, it’s too late for regrets now, I suppose.”

Emmrich stepped closer, and crouched down to inspect his grave with a curious eye. He was buried not far from his parents’ shrine, some of his favourite flowers newly planted in the soft earth surrounding it, and topped with a headstone inscribed with a passage from Faustina’s Song.

“‘In loving memory of Emmrich Volkarin,’” Emmrich read the headstone aloud, running a hand over the gilded letters. “‘He lived—‘“

“— and loved’”

“‘— with grace and fervour.’”

A hand squeezed his shoulder; Laird crouched beside him, and they smiled at each other. Bittersweet, but they were together again.

Laird trailed his hand up to touch Emmrich’s face, cupping his cheek, and pulled him in for a kiss. Their first while in death’s embrace, and hopefully not their last.

Eyes closed, breath slow, touch gentle. A kiss both like and unlike any other they had shared.

They broke apart, foreheads touching for the briefest time before they gazed at each other, eyes damp, glistening, the clearest night sky full of stars.

Spectral tears mixed with the earth; they gasped as they watched ghostly white flowers spring from the soil with unnatural speed, curling around the headstone, and wrapping so tightly around Laird’s body it almost appeared to be made of flowers rather than flesh.

Emmrich plucked a bloom from the plant; Shroud’s Kiss, proof if proof be needed that the flower grew on lovers’ graves. He tucked it gingerly into Laird’s grasp, and they laughed as he waved a hand wreathed in magic over it, letting the petals burst into a shower of magical lights, as he did so many years ago.

“Laird?” Bellara’s voice cut through their laughter. It was soft, uncertain. “Are you out here?” Her voice grew louder as she approached. “I didn’t want to disturb you but some of us are going home now and—“ she stopped. “Oh. Oh no.”

“Oh, Bellara,” Emmrich sighed. “I will miss you, my dear girl.”

They watched helplessly as she sprinted back to where she came from. The others would be informed, another funeral would be happening in short order.

“Well, at least they don’t have to go far for the funeral,” Laird tried to lighten the mood, but quickly sobered. “So what’s next for us, now?”

Emmrich hummed thoughtfully, then took Laird by the hand. Now, they had all the time in the world.

Two weeks.

They had hardly seen hide nor hair of each other for two weeks.

He had asked for his trust, his patience -- both freely, unwaveringly given -- but the waiting.  Oh, the waiting.

The danger of the gods and the Last Blights had come and gone, another chapter brought to a close in the storied history of Thedas, and Emmrich was still quietly enjoying his sabbatical.  It was a surprise that he had managed to find a lover -- to find love -- in the prelude to the end of the world, though not an unwelcome one.  But now that he had them, only for his partner to steal away like a thief in the night for hours at a time?  Maddening.

Jovus would occasionally pop in to the kitchen to claim a quick kiss and grab a bite to eat, or would sometimes creep quietly into bed if he felt he could get away with not waking Emmrich, but he was usually gone and back to his secret errands as quickly as he had arrived.

No one seemed to know what he was up to -- or if they did, they were tight-lipped -- and he offered no explanation if pressed.

Patience is a virtue, love.

After completing the day's morning routine -- some light exercise, dressing and grooming himself, as well as exchanging some token barbs with the skull of his old friend -- Emmrich wandered out of his room down the steps to the Lighthouse library.  Chatter and laughter filled the room; Bellara and Neve were sat at the table, chatting amicably about anything and everything over a bottle of wine.  Bellara frantically waved a hand at Emmrich as she babbled an invitation to join them.

"Oh!  Profess-- Emmrich!  We have wine and some new serials, come and join us!"  Bellara sighed dreamily as she skimmed over one of the pages.  "You'll love this one, it's so good!  So romantic!  And tragic.  But mostly romantic!"

Neve chuckled, taking a slow sip of her wine.  "Don't spoil it."

"Right!  Sorry!"

Emmrich sank down onto the sofa, his hands steepled ahead of him, and glanced at Bellara with a fond smile -- the Blight may still have marked her eyes and skin, but its grasp seemed to be loosening over time, and it appeared to have had no lingering effects on her ever-racing mind.

"It sounds delightful, I'll be happy to read it once you're done with it."  Neve poured him a glass of wine; he hesitated, but accepted it with a nod of thanks.  "A little early to be drinking, isn't it?"

"Maybe," Neve shrugged, and began scanning a page of her serials, while doodling something in her notebook.  She waved a hand dismissively.  "We don't have any disasters planned for the day, so why not?  I think we've earned it."

Bellara shifted in her seat.  She had questions -- so many questions -- and they all piled over each other to escape her overactive brain.  Finally, she asked, in a voice about an octave higher than her usual: "So!  Speaking of wine... and romance..."  She hesitated, trying her best to act casual.  Neve shot her a warning glance.  "Seen Jovus lately?"

Emmrich frowned a little.  "Barely," he said, somewhat wistfully.  "I saw him briefly last night when we retired together, but he left before I awoke this morning."

"And you still don't know what he's doing?" Neve asked carefully.  She stopped scribbling and marked her page by tucking her pen into the notebook, then leaned back in her chair.

"No," Emmrich shook his head and sighed impatiently.  He brightened as he added, hopefully: "Why?  Has he said something to you?"

"I've barely seen him myself, so no," Neve said; she smirked teasingly at Emmrich as he tried and failed to hide his disappointment.  "I have a few theories, but nothing concrete.  You could ask him."  She looked past Emmrich and tilted her chin towards the eluvian room.

"True, you could ask me."

Emmrich's delicately groomed brows shot up when he heard his partner's voice.  He turned in his seat to find Jovus leaning casually against the wall, idly picking at his nails with one of his conjured daggers.  Jovus' already smiling face split into a wide grin when he caught his gaze, and he flicked the dagger out of existence with a flourish.  With a few long strides, he crossed to the sofa and bent down to lean his elbows on the back of it, so he was eye level with Emmrich.  He pressed a slow, tender kiss to his lips, then broke away with an affectionate smile.

"Hello, love."

Neve shook her head at the pair, smiling fondly at them.  Bellara stifled a giggle and covertly pulled her notebook and pen from one of her pockets.

"I would ask you, if I thought you would give me a straight answer," Emmrich huffed indignantly.  "You're back much earlier than I expected, dearest.  Does this mean you're finished with" -- he waved a hand vaguely -- "whatever it is you're doing?"

"Soon, love.  Very soon.  I promise.  Just a few final adjustments, but otherwise?"  Jovus gently took Emmrich's hand and ghosted a kiss across his knuckles.  "I'll be back before dinner, at the latest.  After that, I'm all yours."

Emmrich beamed at him.  Finally.  Finally.  The wait was almost over.  "I don't suppose you're going to tell me what this is all about?"  He asked, already knowing the answer.

"And ruin the surprise?  Two weeks of hard work, wasted?"  Jovus sighed dramatically, then continued, an impish grin spreading across his face.  "Not a chance.  You've waited this long, you can wait one more day.  That is assuming you're free, say, tomorrow evening?"

"Oh, I don't know, darling.  I'll have to check my calendar," Emmrich said, dryly.

"I could always make you wait another week," Jovus teased.  There was the hint of a challenge to his tone; two could play at that game.

Emmrich splayed his hands in mock surrender, laughing lightly.  "Maker, no.  Thank you.  Tomorrow will be fine."

Jovus grinned victoriously, and cupped Emmrich's cheek to steal another kiss.  "Excellent.  Until later, love.  All will be revealed soon.  It'll be worth it...  I hope."  A shadow of worry flickered across his features, but his well-practiced smile slipped quickly back into place.  "I love you."

As quickly as he had arrived, Jovus was already making to leave, practically bouncing in place with restless energy.  He pushed himself away from the sofa, and ambled towards the eluvian room.  He glanced back over his shoulder and spun on his heel to give them a sweeping bow, then disappeared down the steps.

"You're both saps.  You know that, right?"  Neve chuckled, returning to her serial.

Emmrich smiled softly.  "You aren't the first to say so."

Bellara scribbled something in her notebook, then nodded, satisfied.  "It's nice!  I think it's nice."

"Never said it wasn't, but it's like something you see in one of these," Neve tapped the pages of her serial with a finger for emphasis.  It was always nice to see them so happy; she was a romantic at heart, though would never admit it.  "It's sweet."

Bellara gasped.  "Oh!  Professor!  Did you want to read one?  I've already read this one twice, it's so good..."

**********

It was silent in their bedroom; a lazy stillness hung in the air as the hours slowly drifted away.  True to his word, Jovus had returned from his errands in time for one of Bellara's only slightly burned dinners, and they spent the remainder of the day all but glued together.  They'd slept in together after a long night, and a lazy morning passed them by as they whispered and tittered to each other in bed, lounging comfortably in each other's arms.  But eventually, Jovus had to leave.  Again.

"Last time, Varla.  I promise."

Emmrich rolled over in their bed with a groan.  It was mid-afternoon by now, far later than he usually rose for the day, and the warmth from Jovus' space on the sheets had long since faded.  Emmrich sat up and stretched, his joints only protesting slightly with the effort.

Outside the room, he heard the door to the laboratory creak open, and Johanna wasted no time doling out snide remarks.

Emmrich scanned the room for his trousers, and threw on a robe and slippers.  He couldn't help but chuckle to himself when he heard Jovus' hearty laugh at one of Johanna's snippy comments -- they were both as bad as each other.  After a few moments, Johanna let out a scandalised shriek, and the door snapped shut once more.

“Volkarin!" Johanna screeched furiously from the other room.  Emmrich frowned, and reached for the door to investigate the disturbance.  "Volkarin, keep that hulking sheepdog away from me!  He blew me a kiss when he left.  The nerve!  The indignity!”

The bedroom's shelf-concealed door swung open, and Emmrich covered his mouth in an attempt to smother a giggle as he stepped out.  “You have my sympathy.  How terrible for you.”

“Do not mock me!  Train your hound properly or I shall not be responsible for my actions.”

“Of course, my apologies,” Emmrich cleared his throat, fighting a losing battle to keep his expression even.

He'd long since given up trying to steer his old friend away from calling Jovus his "hound" -- Jovus was used to it by now, and had heard it all before.  She wasn't going to let go of her petty victories just because he'd asked nicely.  Jovus gave as good as he got, besides. 

Emmrich continued: “The Mourn Watch are doing all they can to find suitable accommodation for you in your... condition.  Rest assured that you will not be suffering such ‘indignity’ for much longer.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Johanna scoffed.  “You would think the Watchers would take me more seriously.  I refuse to be ignored!”

“Believe me, Johanna, you are impossible to ignore,” Emmrich couldn't resist rolling his eyes.

"Pah!"

Emmrich gave the runes on her table a quick once-over -- he was confident they still held, but it never hurts to be thorough.  Satisfied, he made to return to the bedroom to get properly dressed and presentable.

"You ought to know that your hound left some ridiculous bauble on your desk."

He stopped.

When he turned to face the desk, sure enough, a glimmer of gold caught his eye: a gilded flower with a note tied to its stem lay flat on his desk.  Curious, he pulled up his chair to investigate further.

First, the note: a scrap of lilac paper artfully folded into an envelope sealed with a heart, tied to the stem with a thin ribbon.  He loosened the ribbon and carefully prised the envelope open, and a sprig of lavender fell out onto his hand; he smiled as he inhaled its scent, then put it aside.  He then read the note written in the paper:

Varla, Meet me at the Memorial Gardens at 8pm. Bring the rose. -J

Next, the flower: he picked it up and inspected it carefully, delicately turning it over in his hands.  It was heavy, made almost entirely of solid gold.  Only the head of the flower was not -- polished red stones were precisely cut into elegant petals, and tightly arranged into the shape of a barely blooming rose.

The bottom of the stem coiled around itself, forming a flat base, so the flower could stand upright on its own.  At its base was one of Jovus' runes: sharp blue lines and impenetrable symbols surrounded by a series of impossibly thin circles.

Emmrich traced the lines of the rune with his thumb, and smiled faintly as he marvelled at its craftsmanship.  The tiny, intricate patterns glittered and pulsed gently in response to his touch.

He focused on it for a moment, trying to parse the symbols woven into its design; he frowned thoughtfully as he tried to puzzle out what the rune actually did.  Jovus’ magic was odd -- foreign -- which only made it all the more intriguing.

Jovus was adamant from the beginning that he isn’t a mage, based solely on his own nebulous definition, but had always been proud of his runic magic -- and this rune was some of his finest work yet.

Emmrich glanced at the note again -- "bring the rose" -- and hummed happily to himself.  Jovus had promised that all would be revealed soon, and Emmrich would trust him, completely.  He set the gilded flower back down on his desk, and rose from his seat. 

So much to do!  So little time!

“Manfred?  If I may ask for your assistance for a moment, please?”

**********

"We all know what you're up to, you know."

Neve strode into the music room and perched on a crate near to where Jovus was intently focused on his shaving mirror, using a cut-throat to shape his short beard into sharp, neat angles.

He didn't look up, or even react to her presence with much more than a vaguely amused snort.  "I have no idea what we're talking about right now."

"Come on, Joe," Neve folded her arms across her chest.  "The Lords told Taash what you ordered.  It didn't take long for me to figure it out," she counted on her fingers as she spoke.  "Bellara knows.  Taash told Harding.  Spite told Lucanis, somehow, and we had to explain to him very carefully to keep it quiet since Emmrich can hear him.  Even Davrin--"

"Alright, alright, I get it.  Everyone knows," Jovus dropped the razor and wheeled around to face her, his expression caught between annoyance and worry.  "But what about--?"

"Easy, I'm pretty sure Emmrich is the only one who hasn't figured it out," Neve smiled reassuringly, then added: "I think Fred knows too, so you might want to get a move on."

Jovus glanced at her uncertainly, then sighed and looked up at the ceiling.  "So much for a surprise."

"It'll still be a surprise, just not to us," Neve pointed out.  She leaned back on her hands and swung her legs idly against the crate.  "You going to show me the ring?"

"Wasn't planning on it, no," Jovus snorted, mildly irritated.  "I tried really hard to keep this under wraps.  If there's even a chance this'll go wrong..."

Neve stood and patted his shoulder.  "It'll be fine.  He loves you.  But if you were planning on keeping the ring a surprise, you might want to move it to a different pocket."  She tapped the obviously box-shaped bulge in his waistcoat pocket.

"What?  Oh, damn it," Jovus wrenched the box from his pocket, and frantically patted himself down to try and find a suitable alternative.  He settled on a trouser pocket, and examined it critically.

Neve eyed him up and down; he seemed to really be making an effort.  In stark contrast to his usual attire, he wore a white, sleeved dress shirt -- with the top few buttons left undone, naturally -- and a black waistcoat so long it almost qualified as a robe.  His trousers were neatly pressed, and his boots had been polished to a mirror shine.  Instead of his usual black nail polish, he broke out the gold Inadas gifted him, reserved only for special occasions.  A gold band inlaid with garnet on his right hand, a gift from Emmrich.  He wore it frequently around the Lighthouse, but usually as a pendant.  As for his beard--

"It's about time you did something with that scruffy mess," Neve teased, motioning around her face with a hand.

"Scruffy?" Jovus froze.  He worked his mouth indignantly at the slight.  "Rugged, thank you.  Handsome.  Emmrich has never complained."

"As far as you know," Neve chuckled.

Jovus whined pathetically.  "There's nothing wrong with my beard."

"Not anymore, there's not.  You clean up pretty nice."

"I hate you," Jovus huffed.  He returned his attention to his shaving mirror and ran a hand along the neatly groomed bristles along his jawline.  "If I wasn't going to show you before, then I'm certainly not going to now."

"Then I haven't lost anything.  Try again, Joe."  Neve lifted her chin with a triumphant smirk as Jovus poked his tongue out at the mirror.

He grumbled.  He whined.  He sighed.  A wild flurry of mixed emotions, all tinged with nerves.  Neve watched him expectantly while he got his thoughts in order.

"I'm sorry, I'm just..."  Jovus waved a hand vaguely.  "I want this -- I need this -- to be perfect.  And... thanks for keeping Spite quiet."

"Don't mention it.  And I get it."  Neve smiled warmly at him.  "You'll be fine.  Even Davrin said, and I quote: 'Those two weirdos were made for each other.'  Don't tell him I told you that."

Jovus sighed dramatically.  "That's the nicest thing he's ever said about me."  He straightened as he listened to a conversation outside the room, then jerked his head towards the door.  "I think Inadas is looking for you."

Neve shot a glance at the door, then raised a brow at him skeptically.  "If they're not, and you're just saying that to get rid of me, I'll be back to kick your ass."

He made a shooing motion with his hands.  "I am willing to take that risk."

**********

The Necropolis was quiet, save for the whistling of the biting wind through the halls, catching ritual bells and charms just enough for them to gently chime in the breeze.  The novices had mostly returned to their dormitories, and the almost constant chatter and bustle of activity had dulled to a murmur, backed only by the sounds of the skeletal labourers tirelessly performing their duties.

Emmrich hummed happily to himself as he stepped down the path to the central chamber.  At the centre of the room, Myrna was busying herself sorting through some papers and book stacks, while jotting down immaculate notes on a clipboard.

She smiled politely at Emmrich as he approached.  "Professor Volkarin, how wonderful to see you."

"GREETINGS," Vorgoth's voice intoned solemnly as they appeared by her side, seemingly from nowhere.

Emmrich greeted them cordially.  "Hello, friends.  I'm afraid I can't linger -- I'm to meet Jovus this evening."

"Of course," Myrna nodded, her pleasant smile never faltering. "Please pass along my thanks for his assistance this past fortnight."

"Assistance?"  Emmrich raised a brow.  "Assistance with what?"

"I am certain he will tell you himself when you see him."  Myrna returned to her work, running a finger down her clipboard to find her place.  "Have a pleasant evening, Professor."  She made it clear that her part in this conversation was done.

Vorgoth slowly raised their hand and gestured towards the door.  "HE AWAITS YOU IN THE GARDENS."

Emmrich hesitated for a moment -- he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he was missing that he wasn't privy to.  He gave them a polite parting nod, and continued his jaunt to the Memorial Gardens.

The hallways and corridors were largely empty; undead workers shoveled and swept the ceaseless torrents of sand.  The occasional living person would light a candle or place flowers at a memorial, presumably there at such an hour to avoid the crowds -- Emmrich bowed his head respectfully as he passed each one.

As he neared the gardens, a small horde of wisps began to follow him; he smiled warmly as he greeted them, and they trilled happily in response as they danced through the air around him.  They followed him in a line to the gardens, chittering excitedly.

Emmrich passed through the gate and was disappointed to find that, aside from the wisps, he was alone in the otherwise empty gardens.  He was slightly early, as was good manners -- perhaps Jovus simply hadn't arrived yet?

The wisps whizzed ahead of him excitedly and hovered above a table set up at the opposite end of the gardens; one of the wisps bobbed and weaved and tugged on his sleeve to get him to follow them.  He laughed delightedly at the display, and wandered over to the table, as they demanded.

The scenic and serene Memorial Gardens was where they had their first date, and many others besides, though it was set up slightly differently than usual this time: the ground around him was strewn with flower petals in a wide array of colours, and a bouquet of eight red roses sat in a large vase on the table, with a conspicuous gap in the centre.

Stood in front of the vase was a folded note, written on lilac paper in Jovus' careful hand:

Until I close my eyes and find you’re in my dreams no longer Until magic and the Fade have no more mysteries to ponder Until every mountain, hill, and ridge is ground to dust and sand Until the day I turn down the chance to take you by the hand Until all the grave gold in Nevarra is replaced with tarnished metal Until these roses wither, die, and lose their final petal Until that day, I love you, truly, madly, deeply

Emmrich smiled fondly as he read it, his vision clouded slightly by moisture gathering in his eyes.  He pressed the note close to his chest, then pocketed it, turning his attention to the vase.

A wisp hovered around the vase and pulsed slowly, like it was waiting patiently for Emmrich to do something; he opened his coat and carefully retrieved the gilded rose from his breast pocket.  He inspected it again, running his thumb along its petals, then gently placed the rose in the vase, where it was framed on all sides by the real flowers.

The rose slid neatly into the gap, and as its base reached the bottom of the vase with a gentle clink! a light rumble of magic erupted in a wave around it.  The sconces and candles in the surrounding area roared to life with vibrant flames.  The petals on the ground swirled in the air around him, popping and bursting like fireworks in a colourful shower of magical sparks, before vanishing one by one.

The wisps chittered happily as they zoomed around, kicking up more of the petals in their wake, and playing with the sparks before they dissipated.  Emmrich beamed as he watched them, then startled -- just for a moment -- when hands found their way gently around his waist from behind.  He laughed lightly, and relaxed against Jovus as he rested his chin on Emmrich's shoulder.

"Hello, love."

With the last of the sparks, the wisps' vital work was done, so they chimed their farewells and whizzed away.

Jovus gave Emmrich an affectionate squeeze, then released him; he lit up when he turned to face him, studying him openly.

"My word, look at you!  You look dashing, dearest," Emmrich beamed.  "What's the occasion, if I may ask?"

"Perhaps I'm just trying to impress you," Jovus grinned impishly.  "Is it working?"

Emmrich hummed appreciatively, which only made Jovus grin more widely.  He preened, basking in the rapt attention.

He chuckled low enough it was almost a purr.  "As much as I'm enjoying you undressing me with your eyes, love, I do have a plan for this evening, and sadly this is not on the list."  He sobered, and gestured towards the table.  "Shall we?"

Emmrich shot him an amused glance; he removed his jacket and put it aside, and they each took a seat.  Jovus couldn't help but grin when he noticed a sprig of lavender pinned to Emmrich's waistcoat.

A skeleton carrying two leather folders shambled over and placed a menu in front of each of them; they both nodded their thanks with a polite smile, and the skeleton hovered, waiting patiently for them.

"I must say, I'm surprised at the selection.  Normally this fare would be reserved for senior staff," Emmrich noted thoughtfully, as he pored over the menu.

"Well, I couldn't just ask for the good cooks, since I'm not even a Watcher."  Jovus gave Emmrich a lop-sided grin.  "A favour for a favour -- I had to work for the privilege."

"Ah," Emmrich nodded in understanding.  "I assume that's why Myrna asked me to thank you for your assistance?"

"I had to play guard dog for a group of students looking for something in the lower levels," Jovus explained.  "I don't know all the details -- that's Mourn Watch business, not mine -- but I swear, it was like herding cats.  It took far longer than expected, or else I'd have had" -- he gestured around him, grumbling only a little -- "all of this done in less than a week."

"Well, thus far, I can confidently state that it was worth the wait," Emmrich smiled, and handed the menu back to the skeleton.  It bowed politely.

"And we've barely started."  Jovus did the same, and rubbed his hands together gleefully.  The skeleton bowed again and toddled away.  "The best has yet to come."

They quickly fell into easy conversation as they waited for their meals, filling each other in on the events of the past two weeks, only stopping to give thanks to the pair of skeletons who arrived with their food and drinks.  They laughed and chatted together through their meal, talking about anything.  Everything.  Nothing.

Jovus finished his food first, so lounged back against his chair while sipping at his wine; his leg bounced wildly under the table.  He was restless.  Anxious.  But still otherwise keeping a well-practiced calm facade: he was a performer, after all.

"It's nice that I can finally do this for you.  Picnics and pub food are all well and good, but I wanted to go the extra mile this time."

"Darling, you needn't have gone to the trouble."  Emmrich set down his cutlery and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin.  "I could have organised this for us."

"You could have," Jovus nodded, conceding his point.  "But I wanted to treat you, love.  Because I adore you.  I don't know if you've noticed?"

Emmrich smiled softly.  “That has come to my attention, yes.”

“Oh, good.  I was worried I was being too subtle.”

“You have many fine qualities, my love, but I’m afraid subtlety isn’t among them.”  Emmrich's smile became smug.

Jovus gasped and pressed a hand over his heart with feigned indignation.  He grinned victoriously when Emmrich shook his head and laughed.  "I've been saving my subtlety, thank you very much.  One last gift I've been saving 'til now... if you'll accept it.”

“Dearest, this entire evening has been a gift.  Finally seeing you for more than five minutes at a time has been a gift.  What could possibly top this?”

Jovus was never one to do anything "small," and even his "simple" usually had far more steps than was strictly necessary, but this was a lot, even by his standards.

He clapped his hands together excitedly.  "I'm so glad you asked!  Shall we find out?"

Unable to disguise his curiosity, Emmrich nodded, and motioned for him to continue.  "Of course, darling.  The stage is yours."

Jovus grinned at the turn of phrase, and leapt up from his seat; like a spring returning to its normal shape after being forced into a small space, all restless energy focused into that one action.  It was as if he had been waiting all day to do that.

"Showtime."

Emmrich tilted his head curiously as he watched Jovus step slowly around the table, trailing a hand along its surface as if to ground himself.  His other hand was firmly in his pocket.

"You asked me what the occasion is.  There's not a clear answer to that -- not yet, at least -- since what this evening will be remembered for depends entirely on you."

He came to a halt near Emmrich's chair, and perched against the edge of the table.  He hesitated, and took a deep, steadying breath.

"You know I love you.  Or, at least, I hope you do by now -- if you don't, then I've been doing a terrible job communicating that, and my only choice is to get even more insufferable about it," he winked at Emmrich, whose mouth quirked into an amused lop-sided smile.

"You're my Varla.  The brightest of a million stars.  The sun to my moon, the light of my life, the love of my life," he withdrew his hand from his pocket; in his grasp was a small, unassuming wooden box.

Emmrich's delicately sculpted brows threatened to meet his hairline; he swallowed, uncertain.  Hopeful.  Is this...?

"I am yours.  Absolutely.  Heart, body, and soul.  And I want everyone in the world to know that.  So with that in mind, I have a question for you..."  Jovus slid away from the table, and dropped to a knee, a small, hopeful smile across his lips.  He opened the box: it contained a gold ring, with intricate knotwork wrapped around it, which morphed into skeletal hands that held... some kind of symbol?

Emmrich clapped his hands over his mouth to muffle a disbelieving whimper, as tears slowly streamed down his face.  He could barely hear Jovus' words over the sound of his own heartbeat thrumming in his ears.  It is!

"I was wondering, if you would do me the greatest honour, of marrying me?"

A simple closing line for a speech he had no doubt recited over and over again, until it was engraved indelibly into his memory.  Such a simple question.  Such a wonderful question!  Emmrich had given up on ever hearing that in this life or the next, and yet, here it was, at long last!  Surely the answer was obvious?  Surely he should know?  Surely he knew he was his Flame Eternal, the one he had waited to meet -- to love -- for far too long.  Surely--

Jovus' smile faltered when Emmrich said nothing for several heartbeats, staring wide-eyed and silent at the ring.  "Please be good tears," he pleaded, almost a whisper, hesitant and desperate.

It was enough to pull Emmrich out of his reverie.  He glanced up at Jovus and nodded emphatically, laughing slightly hysterically.  "Yes, they are.  They are good tears.  Maker, yes.  Yes!"

Relieved, Jovus released a breath he didn't know he was holding.  "Oh, thank the gods.  I was worried."

He took Emmrich's hand, and plucked the ring from the box.  After a moment or two trying to figure out exactly which already bejewelled finger would take the ring, he slid it into place, and gently pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

A promise, forged in gold.  Soft.  Enduring.  Eternal.

Emmrich rubbed at his watery eyes, and inspected the ring more closely, studying it in stunned silence.  He didn't recognise the symbol on its face: a cross formed from a precise series of knots, inside a circle, and set with a single turquoise stone at its centre.

He hummed thoughtfully, after a moment.  "I don't believe I have ever seen this symbol before."

Jovus stood, and went back to perching against the table.  He hesitated.  "It's...  Well, I'm not a religious man, but I thought it wouldn't harm my chances having a love goddess on my side."  He laughed uncertainly.  "It's from my homeland.  I... hope that's alright?  A fusion of cultures, I suppose."

"It's more than alright, my darling," Emmrich rose from his seat and reached for Jovus' hand to pull him closer.  "It's perfect."

Perfect.  He'd hoped he would say that.

Jovus slid his arms around Emmrich's waist, and pulled him closer still.  He gazed at him with half-lidded eyes, and smiled into a slow, tender kiss.  He could kiss him forever, if only he'd let him.  And gods know, he might.  When they broke away, Jovus gave him a playful peck on the cheek, and grinned.

"So, how does it feel to be my fiancé?" He asked; he laughed lightly, barely believing it himself.  “Fiancé,” he repeated.  Softly, reverently, as if he feared that speaking the word aloud would shatter the illusion, and they would come crashing back to reality.  As if that single word, dropped from his lips like a prayer, was a challenge to whatever gods remained to dare tear this from them.

Emmrich’s breath hitched as he uttered the word, and he gazed at him with nothing short of adoration, hazel eyes damp and glistening.  “If I didn’t know better, dearest, I would think that you are deliberately trying to make me cry.”

“Would I do that?”  Jovus scoffed with feigned offense.  Emmrich shook his head and laughed at this utterly ridiculous man.  “Don’t get too used to me calling you that, love,” Jovus grinned.  “Before long it’ll be ‘husband.’  Or 'partner,' if you'd prefer.  But we were already calling ourselves that.”

Emmrich choked back a sob, and pressed his forehead to Jovus'.  “Now I know you’re trying to make me cry.”

Jovus chuckled and pressed another soft kiss to Emmrich's lips, which he happily returned in kind.  When he pulled away, Jovus tilted his chin towards the graves.

"Would you like to tell them?"

Emmrich laughed lightly, wiping some of the moisture from his eyes.  "I would.  Thank you for indulging me, darling."

"Indulging you?  Nonsense," Jovus' brows raised.  "It's important to you, so it's important to me.  I'll join you if you like, but if you'd prefer to do it alone..."

Emmrich was already shaking his head.  "We tell them together, dearest."  He was adamant.

Jovus nodded, with a smile.  "Alright."

With some reluctance, he slid away from Emmrich, but lingered on his hand and laced their fingers together.  After a few minutes of searching for some suitable flowers, they strolled towards the shrine to Emmrich's parents, and carefully placed the flowers in its vase.

"Mother?  Father?  It has been some time since I last came to visit you with Jovus.  Well, he asked me to marry him."  Emmrich gave Jovus' hand a gentle squeeze.  "And I said yes..."

**********

The journey back from the Necropolis seemed considerably shorter than usual; the pair of them hand in hand, walking on air.  Jovus was barely able to get a word in edgeways while Emmrich chattered excitedly at him.  He didn't mind -- his enthusiasm was contagious, and a big part of what he adored about him.

They meandered through the Crossroads, cruised along in the gondolas -- "I believe congratulations are in order, dwellers," -- wandered the marketplace, yet they didn't take in any of it.

They were focused entirely on each other: Emmrich talked so quickly that Jovus could barely keep up, his excitable raving emphasised by the rapid motions of his unclaimed hand.  Jovus listening, enraptured, and once again being reminded that "being sickeningly in love" is the basis for most poetry and song.

It didn't take long for them to reach the eluvian back to the Lighthouse, and they stepped through together.

The Lighthouse seemed... empty.  Oddly quiet, even for this hour.  Not a murmur of conversation in the library, nor even the shuffling of tired footsteps to and from various rooms.  Still, and silent as the grave.

Jovus sniffed the air tentatively.  The warm scent of ginger and coffee drifted in from the courtyard, and he sighed with fond annoyance -- he knew exactly where everyone was, and what they were all doing.

"I don't want to alarm you, love, but I think everyone is waiting for us."

Emmrich quirked a brow at him quizzically.  "They know?"

"Apparently," Jovus shrugged.

He stepped over to the door and wrenched it open.  Bellara was sat at the top of the steps, seemingly waiting for something to happen.  She squeaked in surprise at the sudden noise, nearly jumping out of her skin.  When she spotted Jovus peering through the door, she gasped excitedly, and bolted towards the kitchen; Jovus could hear her repeatedly shout "They're here!"

"Well, they definitely know we're back," he snickered.

Emmrich stepped towards him and reached for his hand.  "Well, if they're all assembled together, it would certainly make giving them the news that much easier, dearest."

Jovus gently tugged Emmrich towards the door, and they both started walking towards the kitchen.  The hardest part was over, at least, so informing the rest of the team should at least be simpler.

Harding poked her head around the door to the kitchen; her eyes widened as they approached, and she quickly ducked back inside.  Jovus could hear her shushing the group, and a buzz of chatter slowly dim.

They chuckled as they reached the door, and opened it slowly.  Everyone was assembled, as they predicted; silent, watching, waiting.  Even Mary Brithari couldn't pass up the chance to hear the news first hand, and had visited with Ser Stub from the Crossroads.  All eyes were on the pair at the door.

Neve cleared her throat.  "Well?"  The word was drawn out.  Impatient.

"Well... Emmrich and I--" Jovus began.

Emmrich couldn't contain himself.  "--We're engaged!"

Applause and cheering erupted from everyone in congratulations.  It wasn't a surprise to any of them, but at least they had the decency to react appropriately.

Mary laughed.  "What did I tell you?  Brontos would fly before he says 'no.'"  Ser Stub agreed with a soft "boof."

"You have to tell us everything!"  Bellara squealed delightedly.

Inadas grunted.  "Got wine, got food, got plenty of time--"

"Oh, come on, just show us the ring already!" Harding groaned.  The kitchen erupted with a murmur of agreement.

Jovus' first; Emmrich's second

**********

Counting Down the Days

A series of short journal entries chronicling Jovus' time on Tearstone Island

Day 1 Probably going to be here a while. Assan seems to be fine, but I'm hardly an expert on griffon physiology. Can't smell any blight on him, at least. That'll have to be enough.

Davrin still unresponsive. His breathing seems to be better, but... I don't know. Don't want to risk moving him in this state.

He's alive. That's a start.

[A sketch of the Tearstone Island crater takes up the rest of the page]

Day 2 Scouted a bit, if only to see if I can find food. Anything that might have been edible has been burnt to cinders. Call me fussy, but I'm not keen on the taste of ash. Still got a few days' worth of rations left, but Assan needs them more than I do.

I wish I knew where Bellara was taken. At least going to look for her would give me something to do. She's not on the island, I know that much, so looking for her at all is pointless.

I tried.

Cold comfort, but at least I can say I tried.

Day 3 Can't sleep.

That's a lie. I'm exhausted.

I don't want to sleep.

I dreamed about him last night (did that count as night? I can't even tell anymore). It might have been a wonderful dream if we were still together. As it is, it's like the universe is mocking me.

I miss him. Foolish.

I could really do with some of Lucanis' coffee right about now.

I need to do something. I need to go somewhere. I need to finish the job. I always finish the job.

But, gods, is it tempting to just leave.

And go where? The world is fucked.

One thing at a time.

Day 4 Assan flew off. Can't exactly stop him. More rations for me.

He came back with some fish. They smelled alright to eat, and I'm not going to question it.

If Davrin doesn't wake up soon, I'm going to feed him to Assan.

[A sketch of Assan curled up sleeping takes up the rest of the page]

Day 5 I think I found a boat? Or part of one, at least. Might be able to fix it up, if I'm lucky, but luck seems to have abandoned me completely, so I won't bet on that.

Gods, I sound like Neve.

[Various doodles of a boat held together with different materials take up the rest of the page]

Day 6 Haven't eaten in two days. Down to my last few rations. Davrin still hasn't woken up. I don't want to move him, but I might have to.

I'll give it one more day.

Get up, you bastard. Assan needs you.

[A few musical phrases are dotted around the page, some crossed out]

Day 7 Davrin's alive. He's awake. We can finally get moving.

Well, still need to get the boat into at least a functional state, but one thing at a time.

He asked if I wanted to talk. Of course not, what good would that do?

Assan is chirpier than he has been, which isn't a huge surprise. It's nice to see. To hear?

A couple more hours, and we can finally head home.

This will be... interesting.

**********

Day by Day

A series of journal entries chronicling Emmrich's time after Tearstone Island

Day 1 Davrin is dead. Poor Assan may share his fate. Rook has vanished. Dear Bellara was taken. And Jovus? He tried to pull her free of Elgar'nan's grasp, but ultimately failed.

I watched him fall. I heard him cry out. I don't know if he's still alive. I don't know if any of them are still alive. I can only live in hope, and pray for a miracle.

I pushed him away to protect us both, but he may now be lost to me forever. What cowardice. It's all I can do to put to these pages what I lacked the courage to say to his face: I love him. I only wish I had the chance to tell him. If he'd even accept that now.

I know you're angry with me, my darling; no more so than I am with myself, I assure you. But I beg of you: come back to me.

Please. Come back.

I love you.

I will attempt to scry for them in the morning. With the Fade in such an uproar, I have my doubts that it will work, but I must try.

Day 2 There may be a glimmer of hope for us, yet. A second lyrium dagger; a replacement for the one Solas too back for himself when Rook disappeared.

I hypothesise that he and Rook exchanged places, which at least gives us a "how," if not yet a "where." His magical connection to Rook throughout our journey may be what gave him the means to escape his prison. Ghastly, but I cannot fault its effectiveness.

I had Neve accompany me to Bellara's room. While I am certain she would not mind me poking through her blueprints and diagrams if they would be of any help, doing so without her here... I keep expecting to hear her asking her countless questions, or clanking away at some impenetrable contraption or another with a wrench. Instead, we were greeted with naught but silence.

Bellara's blueprints will be most helpful in replicating the dagger, even if some of her notes are practically indecipherable. Fortunately, Neve seems to be able to make sense of most of it, and assures me that she will translate where necessary, if possible.

I believe I saw some books on lyrium crafting in the library, which may also be of use. I shall read over them when I have a moment to spare. A project this delicate is far beyond the scope of even most Circle enchanters, so any relevant information may be critical in the creation of the replacement dagger, and should not be overlooked.

Day 3 Neve suggested searching Jovus' room. His notes would likely be of help; he also has a diagram or two in amongst his many, many journals. I told her that I hadn't thought to do so, but would gladly accept her company in the search for anything helpful.

A lie, of course; my thoughts wander to Jovus and the music room with alarming regularity. I would be surprised if Neve believed me, when I do not even believe myself, but she at least showed the courtesy to make no further comment.

His room is far too quiet without him. No music, no songs, no absurd comments and shared laughter, no joy.

We found his latest entry, dated the day we departed for Tearstone Island, after our... discussion. I almost wish we hadn't found it; the last shredded remnants of the mask I've been struggling to keep up finally fell, and I can only say that I broke down upon reading it.

He blames himself for what happened. Oh, my darling, it was never your fault. You were right: I was afraid. But now I fear only never seeing you again.

Don't leave. Please. Don't leave me.

At least I learned one important thing from the entry, something more than I dared hope:

He loves me.

He loves me.

It's far more than I deserve.

And I will never tire of hearing it.

Day 4 Progress on the replica dagger is slow, and Johanna's cutting remarks are not helping the situation. Not that I will give her the satisfaction of telling her such; she would only grow to be even more insufferable.

I believe I came close with the last attempt; it shattered before it could finally solidify into its required shape, but it felt almost perfect before then.

I only hope I can make this work before we finally run out of resources; with so much of Thedas in chaos at the present, the required purity of lyrium is proving to be more and more difficult to acquire.

Day 5 Where am I going wrong? The measurements are perfect! To be so close to success with so little to show for it! Infuriating.

The others say I need to rest. How can I, when I am so close?

I may not be able to find Bellara or Jovus, but I can at least do this small thing to spring Rook from their captivity. I must.

Day 6 I keep reaching for his hand.

I keep expecting to find his arms around my waist, his breath in my ear, while he complains that my collar is too high for him to kiss my neck. He settles for my cheek instead.

I keep thinking I'll hear him sing, or whistle, or hum, that song from his homeland, or any from his Dock Town repertoire.

I see him in my dreams, in the moments sleep claims me. It might be a blessing, were it not such a restless nightmare. All the dreams end with him blighted somehow. I wish to not sleep at all, if only to spare myself such grim visions.

I wake expecting to find him dozing with my cheek on his chest, or his surprisingly heavy wolf head on my own chest, so that neither of us will move until he decides the time for curling up together is over.

I keep reaching for his hand.

Foolish.

Day 7 Davrin's alive. Assan as well.

Jovus has returned; he all but carried Davrin back to us, mostly intact.

The fact he survived Ghilan'nain's onslaught is nothing short of miraculous. Jovus healed what he could -- a "patch job," as he called it -- but he could only do so much. Now, Davrin needs to rest, or he may never fully recover, and we still need him for the battles to come.

Jovus has gone to his room to bathe, and to rest; I'm using that as an excuse to put off talking to him.

Such cowardice.

I have thought at length what I wish to say to him this past week, should I ever see him again. But now that he's actually here? Now that I have the chance I so desperately craved? The wellspring of my words has dried to a mere trickle.

Perhaps I ought to have taken a page from his book, and wrote myself a script?

I will see him soon. If nothing else, Taash is correct; it will tear us both up if we don't clear the air.

I don't expect he will want more than that, if he'll even speak to me at all. I wouldn't blame him if he doesn't. But one can hope.

At the very least, I must tell him; I've been given another opportunity, and I don't want to waste it.

8. being unable to open their eyes for a few moments afterward

They stopped playing, the sound of music replaced with polite applause from those assembled at the dining table. Jovus grinned and bowed dramatically as he set his lute aside, then turned back to the stove to take a big pot off the heat. His turn to cook usually meant music in the kitchen, as he brought whatever instrument took his fancy at that moment to help keep time… and, crucially, to keep him focused.

Harding rolled her eyes and giggled at him, plucking idly at a the strings of her banjo; Inadas balanced their instrument against their shoulder and started generously applying rosin to the bow.

"So, that's a sula-- sulam--?" Lucanis loomed by the coffee pot, and jerked his beard towards the instrument in Inadas' lap.

"Sulaminal."

"Yes, that. I have heard that, if played correctly, they can sound like voices -- voices used to confuse humans, specifically."

"Sure," Inadas shrugged. "Old legend. Used against humans preying on clans, so you should have nothing to worry about." They inspected the bow critically; apparently satisfied, they stowed the rosin in the sulaminal's case.

"I've never heard another instrument like it," Harding said, resting her banjo flat across her lap. "It always sounded so pretty at Singquisition."

Jovus snorted, glancing up from where he was measuring a portion of chickpeas for Emmrich's version of whatever it was he was making. "'Singquisition?' Seriously?"

"What?" Harding huffed defensively. "It's a good name!"

"No no, you're right. I apologise," Jovus laughed. "It's far from the worst thing I've ever heard."

The door to the courtyard swung open; everyone glanced over at the new arrival, then resumed what they were doing, curiosity sated. Emmrich stepped across the threshold, smiling politely as he greeted the room, then crossed to the table to take his usual seat.

"Hello, love!" Jovus said brightly as he caught sight of Emmrich. "Just put some chickpeas on to boil. How does hummus sound?"

Emmrich beamed. "That sounds delightful! Thank you, darling."

"So!" Harding piped up. "We playing some more while you wait for the pot?" She fiddled with one of the tuning pegs of her banjo, then strummed.

Jovus opened his mouth to answer, then glanced back at Emmrich with an impish grin. "You two go ahead. I'm going to sit this one out, I think." He strode over to Emmrich and held a hand out expectantly.

Emmrich laughed lightly as he took his hand, and Jovus pulled him gently from his seat.

Inadas smiled softly at the pair, and Harding shook her head and giggled; they both started playing a jaunty tune -- a little out of time to start, but they caught up with each other quickly.

Jovus and Emmrich placed a hand around each other's waists and laughed as they stepped in time with the music.

It was less of a dance and more of a swing -- and even more of an excuse to just be close to each other. It was silly, but it was fun, laughing and wheeling around the kitchen in time with the music, until eventually they slowed and swayed together, their movements completely detached from the music being played.

Inadas stopped playing, then Harding followed suit. They chuckled as they were utterly ignored by the two men, in a world of their own.

Jovus laughed and gave Emmrich a quick peck on the cheek; Emmrich turned his head to face him fully, and pressed a kiss to Jovus' lips. They closed their eyes as they lingered, smiling fondly as they melted into the kiss.

They broke away, breathless and giddy, and pressed their foreheads together, eyes fluttered closed for several heartbeats. They might even have stayed that way, except--

"Hey, lovebirds. Your pot's boiling over." Harding jerked her thumb towards the stove.

"Hm?" Jovus opened an eye lazily, then snapped back to reality all at once. "Oh, shit!" He disentangled himself from Emmrich, and scrambled over to the stove to rescue the pot.

Emmrich chuckled and returned to his seat, gazing affectionately at his lover.

The chickpeas' daring rescue complete, Jovus leaned against the wall and glanced at Inadas with a smirk. "Want to dance with Neve? I can go get her."

Inadas' features flickered unreadably, then settled for glowering at him.

"You thought about it." He grinned. "C'mon, it'll be fun!"

"No," Inadas scowled at him. "But you'll be the first person I talk to if I ever want to set some chickpeas on fire."

**********

18. kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap

“How long before you grow tired of this? Of me?”

Another episode.

Emmrich awoke in the middle of the night, clutching his chest, drenched with cold sweat. Jovus was already awake, beast blood fizzing in his veins; he curled around him protectively, with Emmrich slumped in his lap.

He didn’t always want to be touched when in the thick of it — and it didn’t always help if he did — but this time? This time, slowly but surely, it was enough to bring him back from the brink.

“What?”

Ragged breathing slowly returning to normal, hummingbird heart rate steadily coming down. Emmrich slouched against Jovus’ shoulder, staring vacantly at his earrings. The sheets. The wall. Anything except his eyes — the shame was too great to meet those eyes.

“I’ll understand if you decide to leave, darling. You wouldn’t be the first. I know I can be… too much.”

Jovus… laughed?

Emmrich finally met his gaze. Curious. Questioning.

Fearful.

“Hey. Come on, love, give me some credit.”

Strong arms wrapped around him protectively, his anchor in the dark. He gave him a squeeze, gentle, reassuring.

“Give yourself some credit. I’m a werewolf. That’s the very definition of ‘too much’ for most people. That doesn’t even rank very high among my many, many flaws, but you take everything in stride. You think this is what’s going to scare me away?”

He pressed a soft kiss to his temple. Emmrich shuddered, eyes wrenching shut. He didn’t want to answer. The answer might be wrong. There was a cruel sort of safety in not knowing for sure.

It might be.

“I’m glad others found you too much — they’re welcome to look for less elsewhere. I’m a very selfish man, Emmrich; their loss meant my gain. I gained you. I want you.”

“You really aren't going to leave?” His voice was small, wavering. It was Emmrich, and yet somehow it wasn’t.

It broke his heart.

Another kiss to the temple. A hand smoothing back his damp hair. Gently tilting his chin to meet his gaze, and then his lips; a kiss, one of many by now. Always wanted, never wasted; hopefully it was proof enough.

He had so many more to give if it weren’t.