#siobhanrich

Emmrich melted. After this, they decided to date in secret, lest the others knew of their involvement with each other. There was no need to alert them to this happening yet.

Everything continued as usual. Emmrich and Harding talked about botany, with Rook joining now and again. When Neve needed some help with attaining some files, Emmrich let some of his contacts come into play. If he needed to ask Rook for a quick break to get them when a message would have sufficed, nobody questioned it.

Bellara kept him on his toes whenever they had down time - lately also while he worked - asking as many questions as she could. The conversation was always enlightening and quickly needed him to do his own research as they bounced off of each other. In the quiet hours of the night, when he did some additional reading, Rook curled up next to him, her own book nestled on her propped-up thighs.

He got to know Lucanis better, who turned out to have a dry humor that often caught Emmrich off-guard. To his befuddlement, Lucanis kept insisting to bring Rook into every joke and only smiled knowingly at his inquiry as to know why.

One evening, while Rook took Manfred out to see something beyond the Lighthouse, he even joined Davrin and Taash for a workout, which he regretted the next day as he was barely able to lift his arms.

Book club kept going on. Rook kept being lovely. Emmrich kept falling asleep over his work.

At first, it was a blanket that was thrown over his shoulders, then a mug full of cooling tea that sat in front of him. Lastly, it was Rook who was curled up to him while being fast asleep and drooling on his shoulder.

Some nights they stayed awake to mull over the implications of the graves. There were unusual collections of grave goods in many of the graves which addled his brain. Not only in the structuring of them but also in the organic remains. In the pottery, there were so many residues left, that Harding had a problem to get behind the ever growing bulk of them. He just had the feeling that there was a hidden truth to be discovered in them.

Everything started to look great.

The Setback

Devastation. That was the word which felt most fitting. Both to describe what his eyes saw on the site and what he felt flowing out from the others around him.

The excavation site looked as if a storm had gone through it. Equipment laid around; bent and broken like in ritualistic weapon sacrifice, molded into something unusable. Soil was ripped out of the earth in several places and mixed together in one big heap, preventing any identification of where it had been from originally and contaminating the soil profiles. A singular piece of broken elven pottery stood out of the pile of dirt.

"What happened?" Rook stammered, eyes opened wide.

"They came at night, wearing masks" Evka, one of Davrin’s Warden that had volunteered to help them, said, pressing a cool pack to a bruise swelling on her cheek, while her husband Antoine kept fiddling with a lock of her hair. "Hit me in the face, threatened to hurt Antoine if I called for help. Fuckers got us good."

"I tried to get Ghilan'ain… but I failed," Lucanis murmured, an empty look in his eyes. "Mierda, I know it was her but now I cannot prove it."

"She was masked?" Neve said, kneeling next to a piece of metal, opening a plastic bag.

Lucanis nodded. "Yes, but for a moment the mask slipped down. I saw it. It was her, but no Elgar'nan until the car door opened. He called her back. If I only could have stopped their car."

"Even if you would have managed to reach her, it would have been of no use. They are too influential, too well connected. They would have slipped out of the noose easily," Emmrich said solemnly, trying to soothe some of the grief the man felt.

"But it would have been a start!" Lucanis snapped at him, eyes dark.

"I should have been there with you all," Davrin said, a whining Assan to his feet. "It was my duty to stand guard."

"You literally pulled a muscle, Davrin," Harding muttered under her breath.

"Stop," Rook whispered and looked at them, brave and bold even in the face of utter despair. "This does not matter. We can still do this. We can."

Lucanis, who had just inhaled to speak, snapped his mouth shut.

"This is a setback. Not the end. Harding, how many samples do you think you have from which quadrants?"

"Twenty-seven from the cuts two and three, which consists of all the quadrants save for F because of that damn stone."

"And Taash, how is it with the animal bones?"

"I have all of the ones we unearthed cleaned and halfway identified in the Lighthouse."

The group shot them a bewildered look. "Already?"

"Yeah?” Taash shrugged as if this had not been a feat of brilliance and diligence. "Asked for help with the ones I couldn't figure out. Isabela and some LoFs are really good with fish."

"Fantastic. Both from the waste side in the settlement and the ones from the graves?"

Taash smiled proudly. "Yeah."

"Emmrich, how many graves have you and your contacts documented?"

His chest swelled with pride. Not only did he have the fortune to have brought into action some old colleagues of his, he had taken up a pattern in these graves. "One hundred. Seventy more are up for Myrna and me to look over. And there are twenty more in the old documentations that Neve brought back yesterday." It had been marvelous, when she had sauntered into his part of the Lighthouse, arms full with files. She had kept him company while he tried to make sense of the - horrendous! - handwriting and let Manfred play with her fascinator.

"And I have found a contact that might have dirt on them," Neve added, accepting Lucanis hand to get up.

"Good. Davrin how many people do you need to dig another three seven×seven cuts in the settlement part." Rook squinted against the sun.

"How deep?"

"As deep as you must."

"Ideally twenty. But a team of seven will do if need be," he said. Silent pride cut through his expression, when he saw the baffled looks on the others faces. 

Lucanis shook his head. "I'll help you." At the Wardens questioning glance he only shrugged. "I am good with my hands."

Bellara raised her hand. "Oh, I have digitized most of the drawings and files we kept here already. You know when you told me to sleep and rest. Well, I didn't, but now you aren't allowed to be mad at me, because it actually helped that I stayed awake."

Emmrich shot her a worried look. He wondered when, or if,the woman ever slept.

Then something strange happened.

Everyone took a look at the site, then shifted to each other. Some of them nodded, others clapped on their neighbors’ shoulders. A sentence stood in between them, connecting them in their shared ambition, ringing heavily in their ears.

We can do this.

A helpful intervention (five weeks to go)

Through the struggle, their team indeed became better.

Instead of tearing each other down in disapproval, they started working together, finding out the ways in which they could work hand in hand. Grudges were settled and drinks shared in the quiet hours of the evening.

Neve and Bellara had unearthed a secret deep down in the archives with some help of Detective Rana. Accusations of illicit employment, money laundering, and aggravated assault -among many others- had been paid off with bloody money and hidden where they were thought to be forgotten.

Not only did Lucanis provide a flavorful culinary experience for the ravenous teams but on top of that he had pulled some strings which led to a delay to the farewell party of Ghilan'nain and Elgar'nan, adding several weeks to their schedule.

He could have sworn he saw Neve press a kiss to Lucanis cheek in thanks.

Two Weeks to go

Twenty weeks to go

The book club kept going strong. Now the five of them sat in front of the fireplace, discussing the literature eagerly. Everyone felt more at ease with each other now. It almost felt like coming home to family and friends instead of after-work hours with colleagues.

One night, the baby phone in Manfred's room alerted him and he went upstairs to check on the boy. When he returned an hour later, after he had read Manfred another story about wyverns, only Rook was left. Emmrich’s heart grew soft, as he saw her sleeping on one of the couches. Her long body curled tightly together and those auburn strands of hair cascading over her face. What must she dream of?

At his light touch to her shoulder, only meant to pull a blanket over her, she awoke with a soft gasp. Bleary eyed, she blinked at him.

"Emmrich?" When he stroked her cheek, she nuzzled into it; a warm exhale caressing his tired skin.

"You should go to sleep, darling." He was contemplating if it was better to aid her in returning to her room or to simply leave her sleeping there.

"Did you know that Lucanis and Neve have a thing going?" Her voice was raspy with sleep.

A chuckle escaped his lips. "Yes, I've noticed. What makes you mention this?"

She rubbed her eyes. Frowning into her hand, she said, "They had a make out session right behind the door, right before I fell asleep. Thought I couldn't hear."

"Whatever they did, they took it somewhere else." Suddenly he was glad that Neve’s room was in a different corner of the Lighthouse, granting everyone some privacy. "Shall I help you upstairs?"

Rook nodded, gave one last kiss to his palm and let her legs swing off the couch. Her defined shoulders - she had told him she had taken dance classes since she was very young- moved under the light fabric, a testament to all the hard work she had poured into herself. Her blouse had moved, revealing freckles that dotted around white collarbones and rose up to her shoulders, where they doubled in numbers.

She wore no bra. A fact which he had tried to distract himself from the whole evening, especially as he noticed the rods sticking out from either side of it but now the swell of her left breast was exposed to the glow of the dimming fire and Emmrich felt himself breathing unevenly.

Steady. You are not a young, tempestuous man anymore.

Their hands met and he helped Rook to her feet, pulling up the hem of her blouse in a smooth action. Rocking unevenly, she seemed more asleep than awake by now and Emmrich decided to hook into her arm, as to prevent any possible accidents from happening. When they had made their way up the stairs and to the right where her room was, Emmrich felt his heartbeat quicken. How did her room look? For a moment he let his imagination run wild with ideas of highly stacked books and fantastic paintings spanning around her comfortable bed.

What he saw created an awful shock that pulled him out of his fantasies. Rook had no real room. Or rather, no real bedroom. Behind the door was a space that would have soiled words like comfort or rest if they only would have walked by it briefly.

In the low lamplight, he saw one couch; too small to sleep on without crouching, one table; which he would call hideous on a good day and several of Rook’s things scattered about. Clothes, books, belongings.

No wonder that she had not slept well since coming here. No one would have, not even Taash with their deep slumber that not even blaring loud music next to their ears broke. He remembered the morning Harding had tried and shuddered at the remembrance of the noise. He never had a taste for metal.

Emmrich’s eye twitched dangerously. That was it. He could not watch this any longer.

Turning the both of them around, he walked them toward his own door, despite Rooks small noises of protest. A strange frustration pooled in his belly. Why did she never let anyone take care of her?

"Darling?" she huffed as she realized where they were headed. In response he gently caressed her back.

"Shhh… You will take my bed. A proper one. This cannot stand, you need a full night’s sleep for once." As they arrived in front of his room, he quietly opened the door, only briefly stopping to listen for any noises coming from Manfred's room next door, before ushering them both in.

Rook took in his room as he left to pull back the covers for her. To her surprise, he had a comfortable queen-sized bed with several blankets, a big wardrobe, a marvelous window opening to the greenery outside the house, some bookshelves, an armchair, and intricately woven rugs to call his own. The first day it had taken him more than a minute to take in the richly adorned wooden furniture.

Now, he swallowed the lump in his throat at the thought of his darling in his bed. How she would look with her chest rising steadily underneath the covers, a relaxed curl of her mouth. If she wore a nightdress-

"Will you come to sleep with me?" Rook watched him with an intense look. Shifting from one foot to the other, she pulled a strand of hair behind her ear.

He dodged her stare and went for the wardrobe to give her something proper to sleep in, that was not a two days old shirt. He did not know if he could sleep knowing that he would be pressed against her. Time had shown him to be of the more affectionate kind as soon as dreams claimed him, usually finding himself wrapped around the person next to him as tightly as he could manage. Some had described it as ivy around a tree. "I thought about finishing TS 130-135 tonight."

"You look tired."

A sound came from behind him and he noticed her letting her finger wander over the wood of his bed. Temptress. Siren.

He furrowed his brow. Had her blouse been this open a minute before? Quickly, Emmrich gave her a weak smile and sorted through his stash of nightclothes, to get his mind off her exposed skin. It was quite lucky that he always had spare clothing at hand, yet he felt none was truly fitting for her. Then his heart caught in his throat when his hand grazed the box back of his drawer. "It's nothing that one of Lucanis espressos won't be able to fix. I will sleep later."

"Liar."

He rolled his eyes. Holding on to the cardboard tightly, he considered what to do. Shortly after his first date with Rook, he had taken Manfred into the city for a doctors appointment and afterwards to a seamstress to get his favorite toy repaired. As the boy had observed each movement of the seamstress while she worked, Emmrich's eyes had been drawn to a particularly elegant nightgown. Deep purple satin that fell down the mannequins body until it almost reached the floor, parted with a slid at the back to allow movement. On top of it sat a fitting morning robe with a green brooch in form of a bug. When he drove back with Manfred, the package sat in the back of his car and then at the back of his wardrobe, too afraid of pressuring her with a too early gift.

Now it rested in his hands and he made a choice. Gently, he pulled it out and set it into her hands, all the while being careful to not inhale her fragrance. Amber, wood, lilac. It made him want to sink into her embrace even more. "Rook, I beg you. You must sleep."

"When was the last time you slept for a full night? Not taking care of any of us or Manfred? Pouring yourself over some books?"

Rather my books than pour myself all over your body and steal the little sleep you from you, he thought and motioned for her to open the box. At the wave of his hand, she gingerly sat it on the bedside and opened the lid.

She stilled as she saw the content of it and something in her softened. Surely, now she would allow herself some comfort with a little push from him.

"Rook. I can handle myself but you need to rest."

Defiantly, she turned around to face him, a strange look on her face."Emmrich, I can also handle myself."

"I know, but as the leader-"

From her mouth rose a frustrated sigh, the drumming fingers once more giving insight to her turmoil. "Why are you never letting anyone take care of you?"

For a moment too long, he did not know what to say. His mouth was hanging open at having his worries about her thrown at him.

Usually, it felt easy to have a witty answer ready and as a researcher it had become second nature to him. No matter if it came from a colleague, a rival institute, or an uppish student. But Rook was different. Around her he could not pretend and more often than not she disarmed him wholly, making words leave his mind. Word collector. Maybe she was a fairytale creature after all. Rook took his silence as an opening to attack.

Almost stomping over to him, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him; fiercely and sweet. She tasted of sleep and promises and Emmrich felt himself melt into her, despite not wanting to be too intense, despite the fear of losing her if he showed even an inch of the depth of his devotion, despite not knowing how to let anyone take care of him since his was orphaned decades ago, despite, despite…

"Come to bed," she whispered. "I wear the pretty nightdress just for you."

"Roo-" At his weakening protest, she kissed him once more.

"Come to bed," she repeated and moved to kiss his cheek. Then his temple. "Come to bed with me, Emmrich."

A pleasant shudder shot up his back, pulverizing his worries and leaving only a gentle haze behind. True to his nature, he tried one last time.

"Rook…"

"Siobhan."

"I beg your pardon?"

She kissed his nose before hovering in front of him, until her scarred skin touched his laugh lines. Where perceived imperfections met, their love sparked more brightly.

"My name is Siobhan. But honestly, I am not sure if I like Ingellvar or Volkarin more, my dear fiancé." She stilled and pursed her lips in thought. "Well, actually I think yours has a nicer ring to it. Listen: Siobhan Volkarin."

His breath hitched and it made her chuckle. His mind reeled at finally knowing her name, of her playing with his surname so easily, making his chest drum with longing. His name behind hers. A ring on their fingers. Entwined graves.

Tenderly, she pulled her left hand back to caress his cheek and Emmrich could feel himself lean into her touch, mirroring their position from a mere ten minutes ago.

"You will never be a burden to me. Never too much and never unwanted. Now come to bed with me, beloved."

With a final resolve shattering press kiss to lips, he caved.

There was little sleep that night.

The turnaround (fifteen weeks to go)

His darling had just finished preparing tea for them, as a realization hit Emmrich. The team had gathered in the common room after an exhausting day; Bellara and Lucanis in the kitchen, Davrin monitoring Assan and Manfred playing, and Taash, Harding, and Neve speaking about local cuisine, while Emmrich had taken it upon himself to sieve through the notes that Neve had brought to him once more.

Old pages with a barely legible handwriting had stared back at him, not willing to give insight to the happenings and research that had been done decades ago.

It wasn't until Davrin had taken a peek at his work and gave the needed hint. The writing, while not being one that could be considered as elegant or beautiful, was not unintelligible but a certain type of shorthand often used in the military context. He remembered that Elgar'nan often used it back in Weisshaupt and even found some of the codes he had woven into the text.

Now, Emmrich had sat with the translation page and the documents on his knees, especially when it came to the infamous grave TS 33, as it finally clicked. Shrouds Kiss. It was Shrouds Kiss.

The quite atmosphere was broken when Emmrich sat up with a sudden jolt and began collecting his notes and drawings from the couch table.

"Emmrich…?" Siobhan asked behind him, a mixture of worry and anticipation in her voice but he did not have time to explain.

When he had everything he needed in his arms, he kissed her cheek and hurried up towards the stairs to the laboratories, while calling out to Harding to come and join him.

Faintly he heard Taash speak. "Are you two official now?" With an audible amused groan as something connected with their shoulder.

There was time for that discussion later.

As Harding and he arrived in the laboratory, he put the files on the table and switched on a microscope.

"Harding, do you remember what Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain had ruled the Double grave TS33 as?"

The botanist shot him a confused look. "Isn't that the warriors’ grave?"

Emmrich beamed. "Yes. Two people buried together, one obviously being from the settlement in terms of grave good and isotope analysis. The other came from somewhere else, and was quickly deemed by their research to be of lesser status, even going so far as to call it a "ritualistic murder" of a fallen antagonist or even a slave, buried side by side to be underneath the person even in death. They said the documentation and any pictures had been lost-"

"Yeah, they basically said 'trust me, bro.' back then."

After weeks of her youthful slang, Emmrich did not even bat an eye anymore. "Indeed, dear Harding. And do you know what Elgar'nan wrote about that?"

"I think you are going to tell me anyway."

"I AM," he said excitedly as he pulled out the pages concerning the grave. The picture he held out to her wordlessly, yet he basically vibrated with anticipation. Harding glanced at it for a few seconds before her eyebrows rose to the sky.

"That is definitely not an enemy. This is how you hold Rook when both of you think no one is looking and that sure as hell ain't anything but lovey dovey." She ignored his scandalized scoff, only waving her hand dismissively at him. "So, this looks like lovers."

With warming cheeks, he nodded. "Yes, and we know of such graves from several other contexts in the same time. Now, they also wrote that they laid entangled with each other, sharing some of the same grave goods and also ones from different backgrounds but they did not pay any mind to the results of the examination from organic residues around their hands."

"It's a net?"

"And flowers. The botanic analysis said it was this, which I believe you have also found."

Harding squinted at the paper - she ignored the need for glasses entirely- and exhaled sharply. "Shrouds Kiss." Her head whipped up to look at him. "This was in so many other graves! Especially the other graves that did not match the 'gods' interpretation. And in the settlement area. "

"Especially high status ones. Rich graves from well situated and certainly most important individuals."

With a speed that almost seemed impossible, Harding pulled out her laptop and a sample of Shrouds Kiss they had collected from a grave. Switching between looking at the microscope and her notes, she almost grew two sized.

"So, this was not a slave or an enemy killed in battle but possibly a lover from outside the settlement, opposing their theory that Tearstone was a highly isolated, military basis, bla bla, destruction, war, dirty dumb people and so on. The grave goods are rich and possibly belonging to that other person too, considering the distribution."

"Yes."

"This is great! Didn't you say there is an Nevarran folklore attached to the plant?"

He smiled warmly. "It is said to speak of love beyond the grave and was used in wedding traditions."

Seven Weeks to go

With those new leads the team began to work even harder. When Emmrich was not too busy rotating with the team in the laboratory, kitchen, and on duty for Manfred, he smiled as he watched Siobhan.

She was divine. Keeping the morale up, solving interpersonal issues, and keeping in touch with important contacts. In her downtime, she would work on the cartography section; lines and dots building a pattern as if weaving a story together. The soil was different here, a differently dated artifact hidden over there, this part of the settlement stood out, let’s check here-

Every time she caught his eye, she acknowledged his attention with a blown kiss and a fond smile. Even though it made him feel childish, he always mimicked catching it and pressed it to his lips.

Her smile was worth all the gagging sounds their friends made at the gesture.

The exhibition (Five Weeks to go)

As the final deadline drew close, Siobhan, Emmrich, and Bellara had visited the museum their event was supposed to be held. Strife, Emmrich’s old flame, and Irelin, Bellara’s old flame, had gathered together with them in the café that was situated beside the gift shop. When they had inquired worriedly about the short time they had to prepare, Strife had only laughed sharply.

Sharp, brown eyes had fixated them as he said, "My team is more capable than any of those ‘archaeology gods’. We will be ready."

Bellara offered to be the communication link between the Veil Jumpers and the Veilguard in the following weeks, providing a closely knit communication line while the last preparations had to be done.

With a knowing smile, Emmrich and Rook sent her off to get more updates on the situation with Irelin. Having watched hers and Bellara’s fiddling hands and stolen glances, there would surely be done more than just any research talking.

Both smiled knowingly and went back to the car, hand in hand.

The question (four Weeks to go)

Over time he and Siobhan had developed a routine. They would meet up after Manfred had been brought to bed. Emmrich would follow his skin care routine, while Siobhan put a salve on the scar tissue on her face. They brushed their teeth, which ended up with her jesting about his oil pulling, despite his protests that it was very good for his teeth.

Then the bed would wait. Usually, they would pick one book and lie down, with one of them holding up the book, while the other would crawl into their waiting arms. After they both had settled in, they would read together. As soon as one had finished, it was their turn to tap the page and as soon as the other followed, the page would be turned.

It did not take long for them to find a rhythm and soon enough it became one of his favorite parts of the day.

After roughly half an hour, they would be too tired to continue and fall asleep. Unless he caught a whiff of her smell in his nostrils or if she gazed too long at his "immaculate" jaw line. Then their nights would be filled with explorations of a different kind until slumber claimed them.

Emmrich had wished for their nightly routine to end with just that. Peaceful sleep.

To his dismay and worry, both of them were subjected to nightly horrors. For Emmrich, this consisted of waking with a racing heart, his mouth dry and fingers numb as he gasped for air that never felt enough in his lungs. He heaved and ached at the tightness in his chest, an all-consuming fear threatening to break him. Surely enough, Siobhan woke every time and without fail, she would do everything in her power to help him. In her gentle tone she would refocus his attention and give him something to hold on to as he rode it out.

No matter if it was memories of his parents’ death or the imminent fear of the situation that sat before them. She was always there and held him until he could fall asleep once more.

Other nights, Emmrich was sleeping blissfully until he was awoken by her screaming and thrashing around. When he saw her wrapped in her blanket, frightened and panting, there was no second thought. He held her through the haze of the nightmare hanging onto her with sharp nails set underneath smooth skin. Those times, he would help her settle by holding and talking to her, until she was calm in his embrace and slept till morning arrived to kiss them on the nose.

Tonight, Siobhan’s head rested on his shoulder as they read through one of his books together; his right hand holding the right side and her left hand holding the left side.The other pair was intertwined and Emmrich caressed her knuckles gently, making her hum in content joy.

"What were you and Taash talking about? They told me to ask you about it." She didn't look at him, simply tapping the page with her thumb to signal that she was done. After reading the last paragraph, he flipped the page.

Emmrich chuckled. "About my wishes for the future. They used flavourful wording."

"Oh, color me intrigued," she said. Siobhan acted like she didn't see him shaking his head at her, but a grin danced on her lips.

"They said: 'Your future is yours and no one else. Do what you like, copulate with what others think.”

“That’s good advice, although the word copulate is certainly new for them," she said with a snort, once again tapping the corner of the page. Emmrich turned it and she added, "Well? What do you want?”

You. The corner of her mouth rose, as she read the unsaid from between the lines. Emmrich felt his foolish heart gallop him to an unseen finish line as he realized what he was about to ask her.

“I do like my field of expertise but sometimes I wish the pressure was easier on me… To have more time to spend with Manfred… maybe someone to share my life with...”

"Like a family?"

The word rose like fog between them and settled gently on his heart. "Yes." A simple truth. A yearning wish.

“That is a good thought. Now you need to figure out how to get that.” She lifted their entwined hands to her lips and kissed his knuckles. Still hovering over his hand, her eyes searched his. "Or who to ask."

Emmrich thought about the ring that sat nestled in his bedside drawer. Now he pulled her hand to his lips and whispered a promise onto them. “What are your plans for after this is all over, Siobhan?”

She kissed his brow before tapping the page once again. When he turned it, he heard the smile in her voice.

“Trying out a new possible future.”

With you.

Together.

The happy ending

After months of harrowing work and many setbacks, they managed to do it- they unveiled their exhibition right on the day when Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain were supposed to be celebrated till the end of their days.

It had been hard, the last weeks had been a blur of late hours and early mornings. Slowly but surely, they had worked through their difficulties, while growing as their own people, too. New friendships had been forged and soon enough it had felt more like a family and the Lighthouse like a Lighthome, if he were to quote Harding.

Several rooms filled with a portrayal of Tearstone that had not been attempted before. One that spoke about a settlement that was one defined by trade and contact. Even though there surely had been conflict, the good and the bad wove a tapestry of a past, longing for their story to be told. While some of the threads were still hidden, and some would likely never be uncovered, it had now a chance to be seen in a new light.

In the center of it all, stood TS 33. The lovers’ grave. The one that had turned the tide on their research. It had provided the hook for their retelling of the settlements story. No warriors fortress, but a trading site, rich with culture and merchants of all trade. Yes, there was violence, visible in wounds on skulls and fortifications on the water side, but there was also peace, shown in many years of relatively undisrupted living and exchange. Most importantly. There was love.

Not only that was interesting to the public eye. Through an anonymous helper, files had been 'rediscovered' about their neglect, blackmailing, illicit employment and labor exploitation among many others. The uproar had been loud, especially as Solas came clean about how he protected and shielded their work.

In the end, Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain left to be questioned by the police, their younger brother in tow.

When the press wanted a picture of the famous "Veilguard", they stood together, side by side. He noted the affections between the newly formed couples and the playfulness in which they now regarded Manfred.

With a fond smile curling on his lips, he looked at Siobhan. Reaching over, her ringed hand slid in his. After she had disclosed with him that the ring had been in a corner of her drawer, he had not hesitated a moment and gotten himself a matching one. Today, he held on tight to her.

Emmrich smiles as he wakes up. He feels himself wrapped around his beloveds sleeping form, as a warm hand caress his face drowsily.

When he cracks his eyes open, he sees Siobhan, still half asleep, with one hand on his chest and the other holding on tight to his right hand, leaving them to be an entangled knot of limbs and breath.

Emmrich cannot help it, he smiles even brighter and presses a soft kiss to her temple.

While it must be close to dawn, it still must be some time until morning truly arrives; they still have some more time to enjoy each others warmth in the sanctity and safety of their covers.

Their covers. What a beautiful change in words; not longer his alone but shared with the love of his life.

Siobhan stirs again and nuzzles against him. Go back to sleep, she breathes and he answers with a hum, Just a moment longer, darling.

I meet you in our dreams again.

With a soft curl of her lips, she is asleep again. Our dreams, he thinks, What a beautiful change of words.