Chapter Text
“Everyone knows Emmrich is sweet on Lucanis… except Lucanis, of course.” The words lilted with Carphria’s smirk, earning one of Teia’s soft, throaty chuckles. The scratch of Viago’s pen didn’t falter, but she could see the way his nostrils flared. Reclined leisurely in the ornately furnished armchair before the Fifth Talon’s desk, she watched him with an impish smile few would dare to wear in Viago’s presence, let alone direct at him. “I think Lucanis likes him too — he just needs a little nudge.”
Ink spattered across the thick vellum as Viago pressed a fraction too hard, causing the nib to split. He cursed under his breath, and at last fixed Carphria with a piercing blue stare. “You thinking is already dangerous; leave it alone.”
“Come now, Vi,” Teia crooned, standing from where she’d leant against Viago’s desk. She circled Carphria’s chair and draped her arm along the back of it. Sweeping back one of Carphria’s loose copper curls, she lent in close to the younger de Riva before both women turned their most charming, conniving smiles on him. “Do you not think our Phria is capable?”
“I think she is meddlesome.”
“But capable,” Carphria said, with no shortage of satisfaction.
Viago merely scoffed.
There had once been a time when no one could walk into the First Talon’s office unannounced — not without the risk of a knife slicing neatly through their jugular. That wasn’t to imply it was any safer to do so with the new First Talon, but Carphria felt she had earned certain privileges as she swung open the office door with a bright smile.
Lucanis, to his credit, didn’t show a hint of surprise as he continued reading the contract he had in hand, and Carphria heaved a faux-disappointed sigh.
“Did Spite rat me out?” she asked, nudging the door closed with her hip.
The contract was dropped to the desk and Lucanis smirked up at her; even when standing Carphria towered over almost everyone bar Qunari, and the First Talon was all but dwarfed by the elf.
“Spite smelt you from the end of the corridor.”
“Andraste’s Grace. And Mischief! Rook Came To See Us!” the demon announced happily through his host, earning a laugh from Carphria as Lucanis rolled his eyes.
“Not that I am unhappy to see you, Cari, but what brings you here?”
Even Lucanis couldn’t suppress the questioning twitch of his eyebrow when Carphria smirked and brandished a crow helm from behind her back, upside down and held by the beak. Inside the headpiece were scrunched up scraps of paper, rustling together when Carphria jiggled it as if to entice him.
“What is this?” Lucanis asked after a moment of consideration. His eyes darted to the side, and Carphria could only assume Spite was nearby, perhaps sniffing the offered paper.
“Pick your mark,” she said simply, giving the helm another wiggle. “We’re doing a Satinalia gift exchange with the team.”
Pleased when Lucanis let out an amused huff, she watched as he gamely plucked a piece of paper from the helm. When he smoothed it out to reveal the name, his smile faltered.
“Ah, wait — I want to pick another.” He made to put the paper back, but Carphria quickly side-stepped with a shake of her head, hiding the helm back behind her. “Nuh-uh! That’s not in the spirit of the game, Lucanis. Not even the First Talon gets to select his mark this time.”
Undeterred by Lucanis’ lacklustre response, Carphria backed out of the room with a grin. She was confident in her plan, and as she closed the door behind her, she knew the First Talon’s dumbfounded expression would be one to savour when everything fell into place.
It was almost a week later Lucanis found himself in the dining hall of the Lighthouse. It was familiar — and almost comforting — to be back in their old refuge, but also strange in a way. Their home in the Fade hadn’t hosted the full team in a number of months, and was now relegated to little more than a pit-stop when passing through the Crossroads.
As he stood at his old coffee station, letting the grounds bloom and drip for the perfect cup, it felt like no time at all had passed since they were all last together here, granted without the expectation of somehow circumventing the end of the world on their shoulders. Though Lucanis was starting to miss even that in the face of more recent challenges.
“What do I even get him?” he grunted, throwing out a hand in an irritable gesture, frowning when he received an overwrought sigh in answer. He looked over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at Carphria as he retrieved his cup and joined the elf at the table. “He probably already has multiple platters of bones, so that’s off the table,” the assassin scoffed.
Carphria clicked her tongue, and Lucanis could almost feel her annoyance; it wasn’t the first time she’d heard his complaints since he’d pulled Emmrich’s name from the helm. “He does have other interests,” she pointed out dryly. “And you can hardly criticise his cultural appreciation for death imagery when we’re sat here covered in feathers and bird skulls.” A gesture between their Crow leathers was enough to make Lucanis snap his jaw shut, ignoring Spite as the demon sneered at him from over Carphria’s shoulder.
Drumming his fingers on the table top, he gave another frustrated sigh. “That still does not give me any ideas as to what Emmrich might like.”
Despite her obvious exasperation, Carphria’s expression was almost indulgent. “You two seemed to be quite close when we were fighting the gods,” she pointed out. “Friends, confidantes — you made his mother’s torte, for Dirthamen’s sake! If you can kill a god, I believe you can find Emmrich a nice pair of socks. Or some cheese.”
“Cheese?” Lucanis levelled an unimpressed look at the elf as she gave a nonchalant roll of her shoulder.
“It worked for Taash and Harding.”
Whatever Lucanis was going to say in response was interrupted by the low groan of the door swinging open, and the distinct click-clink of a heel and metal prosthetic against the flagstone floor.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting the illustrious First Talon to be waiting for me,” came the familiar Tevinter drawl, and Lucanis felt his mood lift with his chuckle.
“Neve,” he welcomed her, standing up to greet the mage with a fleeting embrace. “I apologise, I came along to discuss a matter with Carphria.”
“Ah, struggling to find a gift for Emmrich, are we?”
Lucanis blinked, then threw up his hands. “Is the whole point of this pursuit not that it is meant to be a secret?” he asked the room, gesturing for Neve to take his chair and untouched coffee as he went to make another. Neve smirked as she settled in the offered seat, sipping from the cup with a satisfied sigh.
“Please, I had all the marks worked out before the last name was picked,” the mage replied, sounding only a little smug. “Apt title, by the way — very on brand.”
Carphria grinned, resting her chin in her palm. “Usually it’s how fledglings get assigned their contracts when they’re being tested on adaptability. I repurposed it slightly for this, no deaths at the end,” she promised.
“Unless Harding gifts someone her cooking,” Lucanis muttered under his breath.
“Wow, this has really gotten your feathers in a twist, hasn’t it?” Neve remarked, hiding her smirk behind the rim of her cup. “What you need is information. Some… reconnaissance.”
Carphria perked up, her amethyst eyes brightening. “That’s brilliant,” she agreed.
Lucanis looked between the two women, his brow pinched. “You… think I should spy on Emmrich?”
“No.” They answered in unison, regarding the First Talon with varying degrees of judgement.
“Think a bit more hands-on,” Carphria prompted, staring meaningfully at Lucanis. It was lost on him, until he felt the surge of static up his spine as Spite seized control of his mouth.
“Spend Time. With Emmrich!” he announced gleefully. Lucanis’ shoulders sagged as the demon receded as quickly as he’d come.
“Oh.” Was Lucanis’ faint response.
Lucanis could improvise in almost any situation: tricky contracts, deadly repartee, assassinations gone wrong. Even facing down grotesque creatures remoulded before his eyes by a certain goddess of monsters hadn’t completely thrown him off. Yet he apparently drew the line at impromptu invitations for friends to visit.
It had taken several days before he settled on inviting Emmrich to Treviso’s Grand Market, recalling the necromancer’s interest in travelling now that he’d ventured from the Necropolis proper. The market was certainly worth another visit now they were no longer under Antaam occupation.
It was only after he’d sent the letter off with a fledgling he considered the possibility of Emmrich saying no. He was busy, after all, having returned to his classes; would he be too swamped with essays or preparations for his students’ practical exams to get away? Would he want to?
He’d felt foolish when he received Emmrich’s response — unfailingly polite and thrilled by the unexpected invitation, if the heavy lean to his script was anything to go by.
When Emmrich stepped through the Eluvian onto the Diamond balcony a day later, his expression lit up with genuine joy as he spotted the assassin waiting for him. Manfred appearing a few steps behind the mage shouldn’t have surprised Lucanis as much as it did, but he found he didn’t mind as he was caught in a tight, very bony embrace. Emmrich’s chuckle mixed with Manfred and Spite’s excited chittering was a comfort he’d almost forgotten, realising only then just how much he’d actually missed his friend in all their time apart.
—
“Oh my, what a difference!” Emmrich gasped as they entered the Grand Market, and Lucanis felt his chest swell with pride as he was able to present his home at its finest. The square was bustling, and even though it was still a few hours from evening, the last rays of daylight were fading fast. It merely emphasised the colour and liveliness of the market. Stalls were swathed in colourful banners, fabrics and bunting, and overhead lanterns were strung, creating a cosy mantel of light to see by.
It was noisy, the air light and full with laughter and the shout of hawkers. Pop-up puppet-shows entertained groups of children and adults alike as a Crow marionette danced around a cluster of bumbling Antaam puppets. Emmrich paused briefly to watch before clearing his throat and quickly moving on; the assassin followed wordlessly after him, wearing a crooked, self-satisfied grin as he recalled their last conversation about Antivan puppetry.
Manfred had been amiable to donning a festive mask so he didn’t draw too much undue attention from the locals, and he followed excitedly along as they browsed the plethora of stalls. Where Emmrich paused and inspected every ware on offer with a pleasant interest, Lucanis instead watched Emmrich. He made note of where his eyes lingered, and over which items his hand hovered longer than others. He’d already made a few purchases: a ceramic hand-painted bottle stopper for Myrna, and a painting of the Treviso skyline for Vorgoth, which Lucanis had assured him would be sent to the Diamond ahead of them.
“See anything you like?” Lucanis queried, aiming for casual interest as he stopped at Emmrich’s side. After a short break for coffee and churros — “For the proper Antivan experience,” Lucanis had insisted — they were now at the stand of a skilled goldsmith, boasting jewellery crafted from various precious metals. Despite his expectations, Emmrich didn’t seem interested in the gold; he browsed the silverite and nevarrite pieces, comparing the blue and purplish tints to the delicate chains.
“I believe so, but would you be willing to indulge me? My eye for craftsmanship is sadly lacking outside of gold.” Emmrich offered the chains for Lucanis’ inspection, and he was quick to school his expression into something neutral, not wanting to appear taken aback to have his opinion sought for a gift. He examined them closely, feeling the light-weight but sturdy metalwork.
“They are both very good quality, I would say it comes down to the taste of the recipient. Silver is considered to be traditional and practical, as it is favoured by the Crows. The nevarrite is just as strong and durable, but more personal for a gift. I have always appreciated the colour.”
He handed the chains back as Emmrich hummed thoughtfully, the corners of his mouth ticking up with his smile. “That settles it, then.”
Pleased to have been of assistance, Lucanis turned to scan the market as Emmrich made his purchase. A few Crows were present, watching the festivities from the rooftops or blending effortlessly in among the crowd; they were all at ease, which was reassuring. Off to the side, Manfred had garnered the interest of one of Treviso’s many stray dogs, and was vigorously rubbing its belly while Spite stood nearby, observing the interaction with interest.
“Lucanis?”
He turned back to Emmrich, surprised to find the necromancer holding out a small black box. Despite being quite certain of its contents, his confusion must have shown as Emmrich smiled down at him. “A thank you — for inviting me to Treviso and taking the time away from your duties to show Manfred and I around the market.”
“Ah, you did not have to…” he assured, even as he opened the box. As expected, the thin nevarrite chain sat against a dark velveteen cushion. What he hadn’t anticipated was the small serrated tooth affixed to it.
“Is that…?”
“A wyvern tooth!” Emmrich confirmed with a charming enthusiasm. “I noticed you were very fond of your wyvern tooth dagger, so I thought this would appeal to you. Did you know wyverns lose and regrow their teeth? The merchant was telling me this one was found in an old nest, likely from a very young wyvern, hence the size.”
Lucanis did, in fact, know that, but he let Emmrich ramble excitedly as he brushed his finger over the curve of the fang. It was small and dulled, shed before the iron had built up to harden the enamel into its razor edge.
“I… thank you, Emmrich. I like it, very much so.”
It felt insufficient in the face of such a thoughtful gift, but Emmrich simply beamed. “You are very welcome, my dear.” Calling Spite and Manfred back over to them, Emmrich swept towards the next stall, his gold-laden fingers brushing over the bolts of beautifully patterned fabrics on offer.
Lucanis forgot to pay attention to anything other than Emmrich’s smile after that.
—
It was late in the evening when they returned to the Cantori Diamond for Lucanis to see Emmrich and Manfred off. The loft was now bustling with Crows and fledglings, yet their path was never hindered as the assassins parted seamlessly for the First Talon and his guests. Both men paused on the balcony that housed the eluvian, taking a moment to admire the sprawling grandeur of the reclaimed city below. Emmrich turned to face him, his hazel eyes soft with contentment.
“Thank you so much again, Lucanis. To see Treviso in such a way, it must really be a balm to the heart.” The words were compassionate, but entrenched with such understanding that for a heartbeat the Crow felt transparent; he would have lived and died for Treviso, and now that she thrived anew, so too did Lucanis.
“It really is,” he agreed quietly. “To see Treviso healing, flourishing again…” He didn’t know what words could truly express his feelings, but Emmrich nodded almost knowingly.
“It’s been truly a pleasure spending time with you again. I hope we can do this again soon.”
Yes! See Curiosity. And Emmrich. Eat More Churros!
“I would like that,” Lucanis replied, ignoring Spite’s outburst though he had to stifle his smile as he finally waved Emmrich and Manfred through the mirror. When he stepped back into the Diamond rookery, he found himself subject to Teia’s stare from across the room, her eyebrows arched with expectation.
“So, did you learn anything new about your necromancer?” she asked with a playful smile as he drew close, her hands resting on the curves of her hips.
Lucanis thought back to all the gifts and trinkets the man had admired and purchased for others, and the nearly imperceptible weight of the wyvern tooth against his sternum. The success of his endeavour, however, was disappointingly apparent — he was no closer to finding a suitable gift.
He strolled past the other Talon with a weary sigh. “He is very generous.”
Lucanis was prone to pondering, or brooding, depending on who was asked.
A week had passed, and in that short span he and Emmrich had exchanged more letters than they had in the months since returning to their respective factions. Exchanging letters near daily across such a distance was nigh impossible for even the most accomplished of mages, yet access to the Eluvian network and one of Teia’s quickest fledglings had allowed him and Emmrich to catch up in almost no time at all.
Except now Lucanis found himself unreasonably impatient between one letter and the next.
They had become a welcome distraction. A bright spot among the contracts, proposals, and financial statements to cross his desk. Each letter was kept close at hand, tucked away in the hollow bottom of his desk drawer so he could reread them often, hoping to glean some clues for appropriate gifts from the accounts of Emmrich’s day; he was teaching six students now, which was as impractical as it was intolerable, according to the necromancer’s last letter.
Yet even with the occasions Emmrich had invited Teia’s fledgling into his home while he wrote a response — something Lucanis would certainly address with the professor in the interest of his own safety — he’d not gotten any closer to finding a suitable gift.
“Books and bones. And some framed bugs,” had been the less than helpful report from the perturbed looking fledgling.
A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts, and it swung open on his order.
“Ah, Viago,” Lucanis greeted the Fifth Talon.
“You have a guest. He was wandering around upstairs,” Viago said stiffly, an unsettled furrow to his brow as a figure rattled their way past him.
Curiosity! Spite growled happily.
“HELLO!”
Despite being taken aback by Manfred’s unexpected visit, Lucanis couldn’t help his huff of laughter as Viago assessed the cheerful skeleton. They watched in silence as Manfred shuffle-danced his way across the room and presented Lucanis with a letter. “For Luca!”
Eyebrows arching with surprise, he took it. “Thank you, Manfred. And you, Viago,” he said with a nod to the other Crow, to which Viago nodded curtly in return and closed the door behind him. Leaving Spite and Manfred to chatter away to each other, he eagerly opened the letter addressed to him in a familiar flourishing cursive.
Dear Lucanis,
I trust this letter finds you well and in good time. I sent Manfred along to deliver it personally, with the hopes he would not get distracted along the way. It’s his longest unsupervised journey to date, but I must have faith in his capabilities as he grows into his new independence. But I digress…
I would like to invite you to Nevarra. I had a wonderful time in Treviso, and I would like to show you around the Satinalia Market in Nevarra City now that the holiday is well and truly upon us. However, I understand if this is too short notice; as First Talon I am sure you have innumerable responsibilities keeping you bound to your desk, but if the Crows are able to spare you for the evening I would be delighted to have your company.
Fondly yours,
Emmrich
P.s. Have you ever been ice-skating?
Lucanis sat back in his chair, skimming the letter another few times. He could hardly refuse such an opportunity; it would be a second chance to find Emmrich’s perfect gift, especially with Satinalia only a week away. He was sure he didn’t have anything pressing to take care of. He could reschedule his meeting with one of the Merchant Princes, surely? Or maybe Teia would be willing to go in his stead… She’d ask for less recompense than Viago, at least, and that could be tacked on to whatever he owed her for commandeering one of her fledglings to play courier.
He grabbed his pen and dipped it, the point gliding quick and sharp across the fresh sheet of vellum.
Emmrich,
Manfred arrived safely, and I can only assume in good time. Hopefully you have not been waiting long for my reply; I am writing this within the hour of receiving your letter.
There would be no worth to my title if I could not make time for a friend, I look forward to seeing you this evening, and visiting the market in Nevarra City.
The climate here tends to be quite mild, and we are too close to the Rialto for the canals to freeze on more than a few extreme occasions, so I have never formally ice-skated. However, one contract did have me in the Free Marches chasing a target across a frozen lake — I would wager it was quite amusing for anyone watching from the shore.
— Lucanis
P.s. Spite says hello.
Giving the ink time to dry, Lucanis folded up the letter and sealed it with a blot of wax and the stamp of his family crest.
“Manfred, please return this straight to Emmrich. Be safe in the Crossroads, yes?”
“Yes! Straight to Emmrich!" Manfred agreed, nodding emphatically as he turned on his booted heel and jostled out of the office with a backwards wave.
We See Emmrich? Spite asked hopefully, hovering close enough that Lucanis could feel static against his side.
Safely storing Emmrich’s latest letter with the rest, Lucanis sighed as he made for the door, Spite close behind.
“First, we go plead with Teia,”
“I’m so pleased you could make it at such short notice, Lucanis,” Emmrich enthused over the clatter of hooves against cobblestone. The carriage rocked gently as they travelled from the Necropolis to the heart of Nevarra City, and outside the misted window the Minanter River curled like silver ribbon through the darkening landscape. Lucanis looked away from the distant figures gliding across the ice to give the necromancer his full attention.
“It was no trouble,” Lucanis assured him, even as he tried not to think of what his begged favour from Teia would cost him in the end. His attention dropped to the skates on the bench next to Emmrich; they were simple steel runners with a polished wood footstock, the blades tarnished with age and worn down from years of sharpening. “Do you skate a lot?” he asked.
“Hm? Oh, at least once a year, more, if I can,” Emmrich smiled with a tilt of his head, his shoulder hitching up in a shrug. “My mother would take me skating as a child while my father worked in the butcher shop. He did try to join us when he could, but I seem to recall his balance never being very good, so he preferred to wait on the bank with hot drinks for us.”
Lucanis found himself smiling as Emmrich reminisced. When he looked back out at the river, he tried to imagine Emmrich as a young boy, all long coltish limbs and wide smile as he skated hand in hand with his mother.
“My mother and I would walk along the canals,” Lucanis offered in turn. “They were always beautiful, but at Satinalia there were more lights and candles — the water would reflect them all. It was never truly quiet, you could always hear the sound of music and laughter from the markets, but it was comforting. It made Treviso feel warm and alive even on the coldest nights.”
“It sounds like a cherished memory,” Emmrich said softly, and Lucanis’ hum of agreement tapered into a comfortable silence.
When the carriage drew to stop and they stepped out into the street, Lucanis could immediately appreciate the difference from Treviso. Dark cast iron streetlamps lined the bustling cobbled roads, wrapped in evergreen pine boughs with bunting strung between them. Tall, narrow houses of sandstone and slate were somehow grand yet cosy all packed together, and despite the steep slant to many of the rooftops, snow blanketed every ledge.
“I fear I may be underdressed,” Lucanis noted, his breath curling up in a visible mist. He’d dressed for the ever-present chill of the Necropolis, warm cotton under-layers beneath his pressed shirt and vest and one of his thicker cloaks. Here the temperature was even more biting; a knitted jumper wouldn’t have gone amiss, neither would a hat and scarf.
“Oh! I’m sorry, I should have given you appropriate warning for the weather. Will you be alright?”
Lucanis huffed, shooting the necromancer an amused smile. “I would not have survived very long as a Crow if I could not suffer mild discomfort. I will be fine,” he assured.
Emmrich hummed, not seeming satisfied with the answer, but he nodded anyway as he shouldered his skates by the string connecting them. “Alright, but do let me know if you get too cold. And allow me to treat you to some cocoa to warm you up.”
With Marshmallows?
Emmrich laughed as they strode towards the square. “With as many marshmallows as you desire, Spite.”
Lucanis grimaced. “Ay, please do not encourage him — a man can only eat so many marshmallows…”
—
The Nevarran Satinalia market was a new and curious spectacle for Lucanis. The stalls were constructed out of wood and painted to resemble quaint little huts decorated with pine boughs and ribbons. It was as if a small village had been erected, filling out the square and spilling into the surrounding streets.
While everyone here was bundled up in layers — thick coats, hats, scarves, and gloves — the excitement and joy of the season felt very much the same. Vendors called out to entice people to their stalls and the crisp air was thick with the scent of sugar and cinnamon. The sounds of strings and bells gave the market a more subdued but no less festive ambience than the street musicians of Treviso.
Then he spotted the dragons.
He could not tell if they were men or women, their faces and bodies obscured by scarves and thick drapes of fabric, but they bore ornate head pieces fashioned from copper, with long parted jaws and decorative horns. Their costumes of luxurious greens, reds, and blues were decorated with clusters of copper coins sewn into the fabric, glinting like scales as they danced and wove through the crowd.
“An interpretive performance honouring Nevarra’s ancestral dragon hunts,” Emmrich said as Lucanis looked to him for an explanation. “The hunts were typically held in winter, and have been a long standing part of Satinalia celebrations.” He nodded to the children who followed the dragons, some dressed in makeshift armour or a parent’s borrowed helm; even a Nevarran guard had been coaxed into a dance with one of the performers.
“I am surprised there aren’t more… bones.” Lucanis admitted, to which Emmrich laughed. “The dead are always remembered, though some holidays honour them more directly than others. A lot of families will visit the Necropolis on Satinalia, to remember the loved ones past as they celebrate with those they still have.”
A small paper bag was pressed into Lucanis’ hands, warm even through his gloves. When he peered inside, it was filled with small steamed dumplings, lightly coated in a mix of powdered sugar and poppy seeds.
“It smells good,” Lucanis hummed, holding the bag out briefly so Spite could get a good sniff without the need to pester. Popping one of the dumplings into his mouth, Lucanis made a sound of surprised delight as his tongue was flooded with a sweet burst of plum compote.
“Germknödel” Emmrich said, looking pleased with the assassin’s reaction. “The Nevarran festive experience as churros are to Antiva.”
“I would not be opposed to more cultural exchanges like this,” Lucanis replied earnestly, walking alongside the necromancer as they worked their way through the dumplings. Once their hands were free and they found a bench to occupy, Lucanis was treated to the promised hot cocoa. It was topped with a ludicrous number of marshmallows much to Spite’s delight, and Emmrich merely flashed an innocent smile as Lucanis exasperatedly spooned them into his mouth, barely suppressing a smile of his own.
When they resumed their walk through the market, Lucanis quickly came to realise that Nevarra was a country of proud craftsmen. Stalls boasted items both decorative and aesthetic: intricate wooden timepieces, statuettes carved into black onyx and marble, jewellers who specialised in delicate pieces fashioned from beetle wings and dracolisk scales.
After walking the square in its entirely, Lucanis discovered the market stretched almost to the bank of the Minanter, less busy now that most of the children had been ushered back to the shore by their parents. Mage lights and even a few wisps cast a gentle light as they drifted overhead, the breeze rolling off the ice sharp enough to make Lucanis shudder. He was aware of Emmrich moving at his side, but thought nothing of it until something was draped across his shoulders.
“What are you doing?” he asked dumbly, even as Emmrich very clearly wound his own scarf around the assassin’s neck, tucking it securely into his jacket. The fabric was soft and thick — an everknit wool dyed a deep burgundy — and still warm with Emmrich’s own body heat.
“Saving you from your own lack of preparation,” Emmrich chided, the tender gesture softening what Lucanis would have considered a scathing criticism from anyone else. As soon as Emmrich stepped back to admire his handiwork, Lucanis immediately hunched his shoulders, burrowing the lower half of his face into the warmth of the scarf. Emmrich barked out a laugh.
“Perhaps with a little time to warm up, you’ll be able to return to Antiva without a bright red nose,” the mage teased, the scarf muffling Lucanis’ own chuckle.
“Shall I wait for you here?” Lucanis asked, glancing meaningfully to the river.
“If you wouldn’t mind.” Emmrich cast him a look that Lucanis would have almost described as mischievous before he strode off, though not towards the ice. Lucanis didn’t have the chance to ponder over it as he was quickly caught up in Spite’s attempt to intimidate a twittering cluster of wisps, but it all became clear when Emmrich returned — bearing a second pair of skates. “Here you are. I’m afraid these will not match the usual quality of your equipment, but I hope they will suffice for tonight."
Lucanis looked at the skates — newly purchased, sturdy, reasonably well crafted, could be sharper — then to the ice, then back to Emmrich. “I have never ice-skated before,” Lucanis reminded him. Emmrich’s eyes only seemed to twinkle brighter with his amusement.
“I know, I am going to show you how. You are a master of balance and grace, I’m sure you will have no trouble.”
Any further excuses were curtailed by the unexpected compliment, catching in the knot in Lucanis’ throat. Spite crowed encouragement as Lucanis silently affixed the skates to his boots, clasping Emmrich’s offered arm to balance himself as they shuffled towards the ice.
Despite the blades, walking on snow wasn’t difficult at all — rather, it was an interesting new test of stability. What Lucanis didn’t expect was to lose all traction the very second he stepped onto the ice, biting back a yelp as his foot shot out from under him.
“Whoa! Steady, steady.” Emmrich’s laughter was scarcely masked by his reassurance as Lucanis clung to the mage who’d somehow managed to keep them both on their feet.
“I will never forgive you for this,” Lucanis swore into Emmrich’s coat, ignoring Spite’s cackles as the demon traversed the ice as if it were no more slippery than stone. Emmrich’s chuckle was a warm vibration against his front as the necromancer took his elbows and steadied him enough to stand on his own.
“Duly noted, my dear.” Emmrich smirked. “Now, take my hand and we’ll start with slow steps, then we’ll introduce the glide…”
—
Lucanis was torn between pride and half-hearted annoyance when Emmrich was proved to be absolutely correct; his innate balance did him wonders, especially once he’d figured out the transition from walking to skating. The subtlest movements swept him up in a long, effortless glide, while a sharp turn of his blade brought him to an abrupt stop — the first of which had sent him careening to the floor followed by Emmrich’s startled shout. Thankfully, only his dignity had been bruised as Emmrich brushed snowflakes from his beard and helped him back to his feet.
“Oh Lucanis, you are doing marvellously!” Emmrich praised as they skated side by side. Lucanis barely wavered now, but he knew he was going at half the pace Emmrich could achieve. Yet the necromancer seemed perfectly content to glide leisurely alongside him, never too far out of reach should Lucanis stumble.
I Want To Skate! Spite announced suddenly, and before Lucanis could utter a protest the demon had taken over. Almost immediately their feet slipped out from under them as Spite lost his balance on the glassy surface, landing on their back with a winded bark.
“Spite! Lucanis! Are you both ok?!” This time when Lucanis sat up, he definitely felt the start of a bump on the back of his head where he’d hit the ice.
“¡Por el amor del Hacedor!” Lucanis spat, feeling Spite writhe unhappily beneath his skin.
Do Not Like. Skating!
Emmrich clicked his tongue as he carefully knelt down beside Lucanis, brushing aside the Crow’s hand to feel the injury for himself. The slightest tingle behind his eyes and against his skin told him Emmrich was soothing it with magic.
“Now Spite, it takes time to learn a new skill and enjoy it to the fullest; look how far Lucanis has come in just a short time,” he soothed.
Lucanis snorted derisively. “He is too impatient to learn, and it is not worth the frustration of trying to teach him.”
Emmrich made a disapproving noise. “In my experience, the capacity to learn is rarely absent, it is merely overlooked.” He let the words hang until the tension seeped from Lucanis’ shoulders and the Crow shook his head with a sigh.
“Alright, I was too harsh. I’m sorry, Spite.”
The demon grumbled unintelligibly, but he could still feel the little sparks of warmth he’d come to recognise as Spite’s begrudging affection. Looking back up to Emmrich, he found the professor looking at him with a ponderous look.
“Spite can attune to your senses without taking over, can he not?” Surprised by the question, Lucanis nodded slowly, his brow creasing. “What if Spite taps into those senses while you skate? Let him get a taste of the sensations without having to take control.”
“Ah, so I do all the work while he enjoys the pay-off; this is why I have a contract negotiator,” Lucanis huffed, smirking despite himself as Emmrich scoffed lightly and helped him to his feet.
“Come along, I’ll even make sure you don’t go sliding off into the Waking Sea,” he chuckled, tucking Lucanis’ hand into the crook of his elbow as he led them in a slow circuit. It took a bit of coaxing before Spite was willing to try again, only this time he nestled within Lucanis like a settling mist rather than taking a surging current.
“Spite?” Emmrich ventured after several minutes of skating in silence.
“This Is… Fun!" the demon decided at last, his renewed enthusiasm splitting Lucanis’ mouth into a wild grin that bared teeth. Emmrich smiled indulgently.
“And Lucanis?”
“I am here also, doing all the work,” Lucanis drawled.
His hold on Emmrich’s arm tightened as the mage let out a delighted laugh, his hazel eyes bright and hair a little windswept.
Lucanis felt his heart flutter.
—
“Thank you again for your company, Lucanis, I’ve had a wonderful evening.”
They walked shoulder to shoulder along the Minanter, boots crunching in the snow and their hands warmed around cups of spiced tea. The ambient noise of the market was an unobtrusive backdrop as they made their way towards the line of carriages waiting for passengers.
“I have too — it is so different here than to Antiva, yet it feels… familiar, if that makes sense?”
Emmrich hummed agreeably. “The food, the decorations, even the people may differ, but the same joy is reflected in them all.”
Lucanis chuckled softly. “That was very poetic. I like the sentiment.”
“Ah, I do tend to get that way around the holidays,” said Emmrich sheepishly. “It’s impossible not to get swept up in the merriment; cherishing happy memories while making new ones. As thrilling as shared victories against ancient gods are, I am grateful that we now have lighter, happier memories together.”
“I will drink to that,” Lucanis huffed fondly, thanking Emmrich as the mage opened a carriage door and gestured him to enter first. They settled on the same bench, resting comfortably against one another and nursing their cups as the carriage rocked into motion.
There was little else said between them, both content to languish in the drowsy silence as the carriage filled with the scent of ginger and cinnamon. Yet the return trip to the Necropolis felt far shorter than the one to the city, and much too soon Lucanis was reluctantly emerging from the carriage and passing through the towering doors of the mausoleum.
“You do not need to walk me to the Eluvian,” Lucanis said as they stood in the candle-lit atrium, hushing Emmrich’s protests with a wave of his hand. “Your apartment is in the upper levels, it is out of your way to go all the way down, Emmrich.” Unwrapping the man’s scarf from around his neck, he pressed it into Emmrich’s hands until the necromancer gave in and brought it to his chest.
“Alright, but only because you insist,” Emmrich sighed.
“I do.” Lucanis paused, then added more softly, “Thank you for inviting me. And remember it is your turn to write the next letter.”
We Want Your Words. We Wait Too Long!
That had Emmrich huffing out a laugh, though it carried only a fraction of his earlier merriment. “I will continue our correspondence post-haste,” he promised.
With a satisfied nod, Lucanis at last forced his feet to move, leaving the mage standing alone in the vast empty atrium. He couldn’t resist glancing back over his shoulder as he walked, even after Emmrich was long out of sight.
Written by a human in Ellipsus.