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“You cannot prove it was me sneaking Assan those pork rinds at dinner, Harding,” said Rook, sidestepping a piece of crumbled masonry as the group headed out into the courtyard. “I suggest you look in Neve’s direction.”
Dinner had been exemplary, wine and conversation flowing, and Emmrich was feeling wonderfully content, listening to the group’s teasing.
“Hey,” said Neve. “I happen to know you don’t have any proof of that.”
“Aside from the fact I saw you do it.”
“It’ll never hold up in court.”
Assan bounded over to Rook and plonked himself down in front of her, chirping, eager for more scraps.
“You little snitch,” she said. Harding giggled.
“Aww, Rook,” she said. “We all know you’re secretly a big softie.”
“I’ll deny it to my pyre,” said Rook, laughing.
Behind her, Emmrich hoped she didn’t notice him flinch at her words.
With Assan sufficiently petted, trailing after Neve in the hope of extra treats, he and Rook peeled off from the rest of the group and headed towards their rooms, footsteps echoing up the stairs.
“Rook,” said Emmrich hesitantly as they reached her door. “Do you have a moment?”
“Always,” said Rook. “My place or yours?”
“Oh, whichever you prefer.”
“C’mon in, then.”
Emmrich took a moment to admire Rook’s new decor as he propped his staff by the door - how beautiful the bouquet of Brona’s Bloom looked against the rippling light of the window! - before perching on one end of her chaise.
“Coffee?” said Rook, her voice muffled from rummaging in a huge basket for clean mugs. “Or something stronger?”
“Thank you, no,” he said. “I can ask Manfred to bring some tea, if it’s easier?”
“Nah, you’re fine. Doesn’t he have homework to do now? Is he still gonna have time to bring you tea?”
Emmrich considered this as she toed off her boots, before plopping down beside him on the couch.
“Well, he does have recommended reading, but outside of that he still seems to get a great deal of enjoyment out of the process. Especially preparing the water. But, you’re right - I suppose I should get used to the idea that as his responsibilities grow, his time spent assisting me will necessarily lessen.”
Rook patted his arm, and left her hand there. He revelled in the comfort, covering her hand with his.
“You’ll still see him just as much,” she said. “You just - might have to make your own tea more of the time.”
“Well, I think I can manage that. Despite what Davrin says.”
Rook’s smile widened. Such a lovely, warm smile, he thought to himself.
“So what did you want to talk about?”
“Ah, yes,” he said. “Well - something you mentioned before reminded me of a question I must ask… I’ve been meaning to for some time, but - well, I admit to some nervousness, and there hasn’t been an ideal time to bring it up, but - I cannot delay any longer.”
Staring intently at the flowers to gather his thoughts, he missed the expression of disbelief that crossed Rook’s face. The hand that had been stroking his arm stilled.
“Okay…” she said, breathlessly.
“I must ask, Rook - what you would like done with your body in the event of your death.”
Rook was silent for a moment.
“Oh,” she said. Emmrich thought she looked slightly disappointed, but whether that was due to the subject matter, or her knowledge of his feelings about cremation, he wasn’t sure.
“Well, I, uh - haven’t given it much thought, really.”
“You haven’t?” replied Emmrich, aghast.
“No? I mean, it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“It doesn’t matter?”
Rook smiled at his consternation, and took his hand.
“I don’t mean that it doesn’t matter in general, but it’s just - not been a priority for me to think about so far.”
“The luxuries of youth.”
“Hey, I’m not that far from forty,” said Rook. “Hardly youth. But I take it you’ve got it all planned out, then? For yourself?”
“Of course!” he said. “Nevarrans consider arrangements and preferences for their deaths - well, practically from birth!”
“Oh,” said Rook, frowning slightly. “That’s a bit depressing. ‘Welcome to your life, son - now focus on what happens when it inevitably ends’.”
“It isn’t like that,” said Emmrich. “It’s more that we embrace the fact that death is as much a part of life as birth, or love, or anything else. Not something to avoid discussing. Plus, in the event that the deceased-to-be’s wishes are complex, or incur great expense, they can take many years to prepare. Some Nevarran nobles start having their tombs prepared before they’re even born.”
“So does that mean you have your plans in place?”
“Not ironclad, but yes. Given I am now, and will remain, mortal, I’ve instructed the Mourn Watch that I wish to continue being of service after my death. Exactly what that will look like, I leave to a select few trusted colleagues to decide, though I will make recommendations. It may be that I end up a guide of the Necropolis, or I might even be able to continue exploring, or researching! Which would be very exciting, don’t you think?
“I… yes, for sure,” said Rook. “I have a lot of questions, though.”
Emmrich beamed, delighted at her curiosity.
“Of course! Please - I’d love to hear them.”
“Well - I mean, how would that even be possible? That you could be a skeleton and still - do any of that stuff?” He opened his mouth to answer, but she continued.
“Is it because of your corpse whispering? Undead don’t normally keep their memories or anything, do they?”
“An excellent observation, and ordinarily, no,” he said. “It’s unfortunate that I haven’t had much of a chance to introduce you to any of our truly intelligent undead, but in the case that a more advanced spirit inhabits the body, it has far more ability to connect with what was, to more properly control its new vessel. Do you know, sometimes they’ve even managed rudimentary speech!”
“And that’s what’ll happen to you?”
“Yes! I hope so, at least. It requires great skill, but I trust my colleagues.”
“So - what’s the point of lichdom, then? If you can just be brought back with all these abilities?”
“Ah, lichdom is very different,” said Emmrich. “A lich retains the full memories and abilities of the living mage that was. It is only the physical body that is shed. Even our most advanced undead cannot retain everything that they were. The soul is gone - the spirit can access some memories, and behave accordingly, but there is no true personality, as it would have been.”
“So it wouldn’t really be you?”
“It would be my mortal remains, and the memory of who I was, still alive in the world - in a sense. This is as close as any person can get to immortality, to remaining… present. Plus, it would mean that my years of work, and study, would not be entirely lost.”
Rook was silent for a moment.
“So… you wouldn’t want to be… uh, I mean, you wouldn’t want to - rest?”
“It just feels like a waste, I suppose,” he said. “To be able to continue to serve, to guide, to fulfil my Watcher’s oaths - it makes me feel like my death would have purpose, and meaning.”
Although she was still holding his hand, Rook looked uneasy. It was a while before she spoke again; he allowed her the time to think without pressure. Such a subject required reflection, and he was grateful she was giving it such careful thought. He’d worried she’d shake the whole thing off and his fears would never -
“Just wondering - did you ever think about … ah, never mind,” said Rook, disentangling her fingers from his to worry at a thread on her sleeve.
“What is it?”
“No, no. Don’t worry about it. Just - thinking out loud. I mean, in my case, I - I’ll - stick with the original plan, I guess.”
“The original plan?”
“Yeah. Well, we’re usually burned in Tevinter, so. Might as well stick with that tradition.”
If she saw him wince, she didn’t comment on it.
“You said that was the original plan. Were you considering something else?”
Rook looked all around the room, eyes flitting from flowers to fish tank to floor, before meeting his eyes again. He wanted to take her hand in his again, to ease the nervousness he could see in her comportment. Whatever wishes she had regarding her death, he would respect them, even if he wished things could be different. It was her decision, always.
“Well, it’s just - every time we go to the Gardens, you show me these graves… all those people who chose to be buried together, like your parents, and I guess I wondered - “
Emmrich’s eyes widened, but Rook cut herself off, suddenly all business.
“Well! Don’t worry about it,” she said brightly, standing quickly. “I get it. Your vows don’t end with your death. And why would they! Makes sense, you made them for a reason. Anyway, I should let you get on. And hey, if I die first, you could always – I dunno, keep me in a jar on your desk or something. If you want. It’s fine if you don’t, the columbarium in Minrathous is pretty fancy.”
She said all of this very quickly, already moving towards the door.
“Rook - ”
“You still coming to Lavendel later?”
“Yes, but can we -”
“Great!” she said, a little too loudly. “See you at the eluvian in a bit. I’ve just gotta talk something through with Davrin.”
She hurried out, the door thudding shut in her wake.
Emmrich stayed where he was for a moment, the speed at which the conversation had shifted catching up to him, and an old, old dream resurfacing, unbidden, a dream of a love so strong that it would persist into death, a love that would make even their remains cry out for each other…
He shook off the memories and stood, pacing back and forth in front of Rook’s fish tank. Could she really be open to burial in the Necropolis? He’d assumed that she would wish to follow Tevinter tradition, but now … did she truly wish to be with him for eternity?
He knew the strength of his own feelings, but their relationship was still so new in the grand scheme of things, and he didn’t want to push her away by asking something so serious. That she had brought it up… his heart pounded at the thought.
Aware she was probably not, in fact, speaking with Davrin, he headed back to his own room to begin preparations for their trip to the Anderfels. He found it difficult to focus, his mind already supplying him with images from the grand (their elaborate, shared tomb) to the mundane (their names side by side in his hand, on the paperwork that would direct the Mourn Watch to carry out their wishes).
Once he was prepared, and enough time had passed for her to clear her mind, he went looking. He found her on the upper level of the courtyard, leaning on an undamaged part of the railing. Manfred helpfully pointed in her direction as Emmrich passed, and he murmured a quiet thanks.
“Sorry,” she said as he reached her side. “Kind of ran off on you there. It was just getting a bit -” she tailed off, and shrugged.
“It’s quite alright. I apologise, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“Nah, you’re fine. I know how important it is to you.”
“We don’t have to discuss it any more for the time being.”
“It’s okay. I know why you asked - and we are in a pretty dangerous line of work.”
“Well, yes. And as much as the idea haunts me, it is - necessary to consider.”
“I know.”
“I admit, I had never expected that you would even consider burial in the Necropolis,” he said in a low voice, hardly daring to believe it could be true.
“Me neither,” said Rook, moving closer to his side and tucking an arm around his waist. “But life’s been full of surprises recently.”
“It certainly has,” said Emmrich, pulling her even closer.
He looked out at the statue in front of them, the towering, entwined skeletons that had appeared in their courtyard after they had confessed their love for one another.
“Rook - I want you to know how honoured I am by your suggestion. That you’d even think of it…”
“It was just a thought,” she said. “I know it isn’t what you want.”
“Well, I’d potentially be open to the idea, if you - ”
“No. I’m not standing in the way of your dreams a second time.”
He blinked.
“What do you mean, darling?”
“I just … I know your relationship with death is pretty different to mine. I think you should do whatever makes you feel better about it while you’re alive – if knowing that’s what’ll happen brings you peace, then of course I support you.”
He decided to let her non-answer of his question slide, for now. It was a conversation they could have another time.
“Would you visit me?” he asked.
She huffed out a laugh.
“I mean – would you even know me? Like you said, it wouldn’t really be you, would it?”
“I’ve told you before that the shades of death have greater depth than we know – I would know you, my darling. I know it, I’ve seen it happen myself. I would always know you, even in death. Yours or mine.”
“How?”
“There are some mysteries even we Watchers are not privy to.”
“But would I know you? I mean, there are a lot of skeletons in the Necropolis … would you keep wearing all your jewellery so I could pick you out? Could the Watchers give you a little name tag?”
Ah, her bright spirit, even amidst her own discomfort. He smiled.
“I guess I have a long time to get used to the idea,” she continued. “But of course I’d visit you.”
“I certainly hope it’s a long time. And I’ll continue to consider my options, as well, as I always have. I hope we can keep discussing it, in the future?”
“Knowing you,” said Rook, with that lop-sided smile he loved so. “I’m sure we’ll discuss it whether I like it or not.”
Emmrich’s face fell.
“I don’t wish to press the issue, if it makes you uncomfortable.”
Now it was Rook’s turn to look contrite.
“No, no, it’s fine,” she said, taking his hand. “Honestly. We can discuss it as much as you want. It - helps, no? With your fears?”
“It does. Very much so.”
“Then discuss away. Any time. I mean it.”
“Thank you, darling,” he said, and pressed a kiss into her hair.
“Well, suppose we should get ready for Lavendel,” she said. “I’m already looking forward to the long, long bath I’m gonna have when we get back.” She rested her head against his shoulder.
“That we’re gonna have,” she corrected.
Emmrich smiled, knowing thoughts of the hot, sweet-smelling water and her body warm against his would carry him through the most unpleasant parts of their journey. For such an outcome, he would wade through any swamp she asked.
“I’ll be right there, dearest,” he said, and she gave his waist a last squeeze before hurrying off down the stairs. Always hurrying, his Rook.
Before leaving, he gazed out again at the skeletal lovers before him. They dwarfed their twin monument in the Necropolis - a curious adaptation by the Lighthouse. Another wonder of the Fade, a manifestation of their love - for a moment, he allowed himself to imagine it, their shared grave, their bones entwined for all time.
He would be lying if he said his thoughts had never strayed to what their joint epitaph might read, but he had dismissed it as a foolish notion; surely she didn’t feel so deeply for him that she would give up the customs of her own people to join him in death, forever?
But she did, she did! His oldest, fondest dream was coalescing in front of his very eyes - if he could ever bring himself to truly believe it, to believe that Rook wasn’t simply getting swept away by the imminence of the end of the world… that she would one day realise her folly…
But before whatever future they might have could truly begin, they had gods to kill, and a world to save. And he would continue to hope. Sparing the statue one last longing look, he left, to head into battle once more, at her side.