Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The knock at the door came soft and unexpected — three rhythmic tap tap taps.

Emmrich startled from his doze, slumped awkwardly at his desk with his cheek cradled precariously in his palm.

"Oh— just a moment!" he called, straightening with a grimace as his neck twinged in protest against the hours it had spent at an uncomfortable angle. The lock clicked as the door opened, yet that was all Emmrich could register as he tried to stand and felt the room lurch with the action.

"Aye, Emmrich! ¡Cuidado! Siéntate — siéntate."

His brow furrowed; the words were lost on him, but the firm hand on his bicep guiding him back into the chair was clue enough to the instruction. They must have crossed the space from door to desk in seconds — and yet they hadn’t made a sound. The pressure in his head faded as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a dizziness Emmrich tried to will away with the press of fingertips to his temple as he finally looked up at his visitor, still hovering over him. Dark brown eyes regarded him with concern from beneath thick, slanted brows, and it was almost amusing to see such an expression on their resident brooding assassin, until memories of recent revelations came rushing back.

"Apologies, I suddenly felt a little light-headed," Emmrich said with a wan smile, sitting upright in his chair in the hopes of looking more put together than he felt.

“Sí, likely from missing dinner after an intense ritual of speaking with the dead, no?” Lucanis responded, and if Emmrich had had his wits about him, he might have thought he was being scolded. But any indignation he might have felt was quickly quelled by the slight uptick of a smile at the corners of Lucanis’s mouth — and by the plate he offered like a pre-emptive apology.

"You brought me dinner?" He didn't mean to sound so surprised; Lucanis was nothing if not conscientious of the needs of the occupants of the lighthouse, but to hand deliver it was certainly out of his way.

"Well, I would not call it dinner. You looked out of sorts when we finished with Zara Renata — I thought lasaña would perhaps be too heavy…" Lucanis trailed off with a nervous clearing of the throat as he again offered the plate. Now Emmrich realised the selection could only be described as canapés — bite-sized oatcakes topped with cream cheese and finely chopped herbs, colourful crudités with an enticing green dip, and a helping of cheese and grapes.

"My word, Lucanis, did you go through all this trouble just for me?"

"It was no trouble," Lucanis insisted. "This is nothing compared to what you did for me — for no other reason than you wished to help."

Emmrich's expression softened, and he finally accepted the plate, setting it down on the desk. He helped himself to several of the oatcakes, delighted by the almost airy texture of the cream cheese, and what he detected to be garlic and parsley. He silently paid Lucanis the credit he was due — he was feeling better with each bite.

A silence stretched between them, but it was not uncomfortable. However, after several minutes of Lucanis' awkward hovering, he realised the man wasn't so much waiting for an excuse to leave, but an invitation to sit. Emmrich hid his smile behind his napkin as he wiped any remaining traces of the green dip from the corners of his mouth.

"Do you have time to join me by the fire for a while?" he asked as he rose from his chair. This time there was no waver or sign of unsteadiness, but it was impossible to miss the way Lucanis braced himself to intervene if there was. It warmed him — that care and attentiveness towards his friends that the assassin tried, yet failed, to hide.

"Yes, of course," Lucanis agreed, finally perching himself on one of the two armchairs positioned convivially in front of the fireplace. He never truly relaxed. Never sank back into age-worn upholstery. He was always positioned on the edge of the seat — always ready to move at a moment's notice. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thank you," Emmrich smiled, easing himself into his favoured chair. His smile, however, grew into a more solemn line as he leant forward, regarding Lucanis with an empathetic stare. "But what about you? What we learnt from Zara… it must have been a difficult truth to bear…"

Lucanis' shoulder jerked, a restless, dismissive action. His expression hardened, and Emmrich could only watch as Lucanis withdrew into himself, the soft lines of compassion hidden away behind an impassive exterior — perhaps hiding his demon's virulent displeasure in turn. "It is what it is; what I should have expected..."

Even as he said it, Emmrich could detect the hesitancy, but not necessarily the lie. From what Emmrich had gleaned about the Crows, maybe Lucanis should have anticipated this earlier, but Emmrich couldn’t help but ache for him — for a heart grown up beaten and bloodied, yet still hopeful that family would prevail.

Emmrich's heart ached that it wasn't so.

"Sometimes… we can't help but be blind to the truths we don't wish to see."

Lucanis sighed, and with it his body seemed to gradually loosen — tension bleeding away until Emmrich was once again faced with that doleful expression that made his heart pang and his hands itch to smooth away the creases between his brows.

"Thank you, Emmrich. Nothing can change what must happen, but… your words help."

Emmrich smiled, reaching over to briefly clasp Lucanis' hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze when the assassin didn't pull away.

"If I can offer you even the barest of comforts — I am glad."

Written by a human in Ellipsus.

Chapter Text

"Emmrich…"

His name came just as soft and just as unexpected as that knock on his door a few short weeks ago. Weeks that had felt so long, yet in hindsight passed in a blur of relief, anguish, and insurmountable loss.

"Lucanis," he returned, equally gentle, like he was coaxing a skittish cat to trust the comforting hand he offered it. The assassin stood in the doorway, still in his leathers spattered with gore. Emmrich looked only slightly better. Manfred had insisted on taking his coat the moment he'd returned and now sat in the corner, diligently scrubbing the leather clean of Venatori remains. Even so, Emmrich’s shirt still bore drying spatters across the front, and his hair, lank and sweaty, fell across his forehead. He was too tired to do more than brush it back as he leant against his desk, his sympathetic gaze never wavering as he regarded the man who must have felt ten times as exhausted as any of them. At last Lucanis stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. Without invitation — a welcome development rather than rudeness, in Emmrich’s view — the younger man took a seat in the armchair, still perched uneasily on the edge of the cushion.

"Rook is upset," he offered as an explanation for his visit.

"I see." Emmrich glanced at Manfred in the corner, the skeleton having paused in his task to hiss questioningly, looking between Emmrich and the brooding Crow. "Tea would be lovely. Thank you, Manfred." He smiled warmly as the Skeleton set aside his jacket with care and made his way out with a quiet rattle. When Emmrich looked back, Lucanis was watching Manfred too, his expression softer than the wariness he’d first shown the skeleton when they'd initially joined the team. Manfred had a way of endearing himself to most.

Emmrich gave Lucanis a moment with his thoughts, letting the quiet sanctity of the room allow his inner turmoil to breathe without judgment. When the Crow sighed, Emmrich took that as his cue to join him in the other armchair.

"I suppose Rook has been rather… vocal with his opinions?" Emmrich hummed, settling back in his seat and resting one leg over the other. Lucanis huffed a dry, sardonic sound.

“Very. He has not stopped ranting since we returned to the Lighthouse. But I— I understand his frustration.” He spoke carefully, and Emmrich frowned.

"You do not have to validate Rook's feelings on the matter. It was your decision, Lucanis — you were the victim of Illario's actions."

"But was it the right decision?!" Lucanis didn't snap, but there was a sharpness to the question — a certain desperation that made Emmrich falter. He wished he knew the answer — to be able to soothe the uncertainty that plagued the newly anointed First Talon even now. Lucanis sighed again, receiving his answer in the silence.

The scuff of boots and click of bone gave away Manfred's return before the skeleton entered the room, presenting a tea-tray with two deep mugs rather than the usual delicate Orlesian tea-cups. Lifting his cup up to his lips, Emmrich inhaled the mild, herbal scent with an appreciative sigh.

“Thank you, Manfred. Camomile and lavender — a wonderful choice.” A blend to soothe the mind and spirit. Emmrich couldn't help but feel a swell of pride as his ward displayed a higher understanding of attentiveness to ones needs, especially as the skeleton offered Lucanis his cup with some insistence.

With gloved hands wrapped around the mug, Lucanis let the steam waft up to meet him, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the depths of his herbal tea.

"Do you have family, Emmrich? Back in Nevarra?"

The question startled him, though the only sign of surprise he gave was the faint arch of his brows.

"In a sense, though not living." He held up a hand as Lucanis grimaced, cutting off the apology before it could manifest. "My parents died when I was young, they are interred in the Memorial Gardens in the Necropolis. While I have many dear friends among the Mourn Watch, and here, of course, I have no surviving relatives."

Unbidden, his gaze drifted to Manfred, who had retaken his seat in the corner to continue cleaning Emmrich’s coat of his own volition. He didn’t realise his distraction until Lucanis chuckled softly from behind his mug. Emmrich cleared his throat, his smile only a little sheepish as he picked up the thread of conversation and the unspoken question beneath it.

"Had I been in your position, I truly can't say what I would have done. The betrayal and suffering Illario caused you and Spite… I'll admit, I myself considered casting him to the depths of the Waking Sea." Lucanis’ eyes closed, but he nodded minutely in acceptance, seemingly a lone island in a sea of poor decisions. "But he is your family, Lucanis, not ours. It makes your position infinitely harder, and your decision even more admirable."

Lucanis scoffed. "Admirable? Viago thinks it was irresponsible, Rook has made it clear it was unjust. The Crows… the Crows no doubt think I am soft — my decision weak. Who could possibly think forgiving Illario was admirable?"

"I do," Emmrich answered without hesitation, catching Lucanis off guard. "Because it was you who made that decision — the man who had every right to run his cousin through without question. You stayed your hand, and you allowed yourself compassion, not for Illario's sake, but yours."

He hadn’t realised he’d leaned forward, setting his mug aside to reach across the distance — to clasp Lucanis’ hand, just as he had all those weeks before.

Lucanis was quiet, his eyes wet, but no tears broke free.

When Emmrich gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, Lucanis returned it in kind.

Written by a human in Ellipsus.