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"A rather interesting concept with an underwhelming delivery. A letdown, all things considered." Neve sighs and empties her wine glass.
Bellara takes notes. "Oh, absolutely. The premise of a hero steering through the world after their main mission is over is so full of potential. Think of all the possibilities! And what did he do? Took his armour and walked straight into the next battle. He didn't even celebrate his victory first!"
"Old habits die hard," Lucanis says. "What do you think, Emmrich?"
He leans back and adjusts his shirt sleeve while he reflects on his answer. "It would be unjust to fault the protagonist for reverting to the things he does and knows best. Bellara is right, however. The world is holding so many possibilities. It is rather tragic that he fails to see and seize them."
Neve smirks. "I'm not sure we're any better. I mean, what are we going to do once this is all over?"
Before any of them can answer, the door opens with a creak. As if summoned by their conversation, the leader of their group – Louise – enters.
Without her usual leather jacket, wearing only plain trousers and a thin shirt with the sleeves rolled up, she looks smaller somehow. More vulnerable. Tired in a way only constant burden can cause. Yet, she straightens her back once she takes in the scene.
"Hello. I didn't want to disturb."
Emmrich smiles at her. "You never could do such a thing."
The last sentence should probably have been reserved for a private conversation. But the instant she smiles back at him, her tired expression giving way to a glow that seems to light up the whole room, he changes his mind.
"He's right. We've invited you to the book club at least four times," Bellara says, oblivious to the ramblings of Emmrich's mind. "Good thing you're here now, though. We need your opinion on a very important question."
Louise raises her hands. "I'm hopeless when it comes to interpreting literature."
Emmrich sighs quietly. One of her less admirable habits is to underestimate herself and her abilities constantly. Obviously, he will have to try harder to show her just how precious she is.
Neve seems to have read his mind. With a smirk, she shakes her head. "Rook, you really should work on your self-confidence. Learn a lesson or two from the pompous magisters in Minrathous. Anyway, the question is what comes after."
The way Louise tilts her head is endearing. An involuntary gesture whenever she reflects on something.
"After what?"
"After the story's over. What is waiting for the protagonist?"
"You know, once evil is defeated and all that," Bellara adds.
Louise smirks. "Assuming the protagonist is still standing then?”
Emmrich gives her a long look. His heart is aching for her. For his brave Louise who is always carrying the world on her shoulders and trying to deflect anything with cold rationality and cynicism.
"You're worse than me, Rook." Neve laughs. "Of course if the protagonist is still alive. If not – well, we could ask Emmrich about that. He's the expert on all things that come after death."
"I'll have you know, my dear Neve, should the deceased hero end up in the Grand Necropolis the Mourn Watch would naturally treat them with the utmost respect, just as any other dead person."
"So, a fancy coffin with soft lining? Nice."
Lucanis shakes his head. "Why does everything always have to be about death? Tell us, Rook. What will you do once this is all over?"
Louise closes the distance to Emmrich, who gives her a sweet smile and makes room so she can sit next to him.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," she says. "The Evanuris are far from defeated."
Bellara huffs. "Come on, Rook!"
Louise brushes her little finger against his. At first, he thinks it's accidental, but then he sees how her gaze lingers on their hands. When she looks up again, a solemn expression in her green eyes, his heart does a little jump.
"I would like to start over," she says eventually. Her words come slow and quiet, as if she is worried to speak them aloud. "I would like to be happy."
Bellara looks between them, her eyes going wide. She hastily notes something under Neve's amused gaze. "Oh, so you two –"
Neve clears her throat before Bellara can start a proper interrogation. "Come on, Bel. There's still evidence from one of my cold cases I wanted to show you, remember? Now would be a great time."
"But –"
Lucanis nods. "Neve's right. I'll bring some cioccolata calda and a bottle of this special vintage I bought in Treviso a few days ago. I want to hear about this case, too."
"Glad to hear that," Neve says with a smirk before she turns to Louise and Emmrich. "Good night, you two. And Rook? Try to get some sleep, we need you well-rested if we want to make headway with figuring out the ritual's location."
A few moments later, it is only him and her. Louise interlaces their hands, her warm and pale fingers a beautiful contrast against his ring-clad ones.
"Did I really not interrupt?"
With his free hand, he brushes a rogue strand of copper hair behind her ear and places a soft kiss on her brow.
"You did not. Are you finished with your research for today?"
She shakes her head. "Not really. But Neve is probably right about needing to rest." Her green eyes meet his hazel ones. "Can I stay with you tonight?"
"As far as I am informed, dearest, we have been sharing quarters for quite a while now." He smiles. "You never need to ask if I want to spend time with you. Being in your presence is one of my favourite delights."
She sighs. "I know. I just thought after what Harding said…"
"Fortunately, the only counsel I am willing to listen to when it comes to you and our relationship is my own heart," he whispers into her ear.
The tension in her shoulders diminishes at his words. She leans against him; he puts his arm around her.
"That's good to hear. Because I want to be with you. And I don't think we're moving too fast."
While taking his glass from the table, she gives him the sweetest little kiss. They share the remainder of wine, tidy up, and retreat to his quarters, walking hand in hand.
Settling down for the night is a quiet affair; small domestic deeds reiterated so often they have become a natural routine.
When Louise comes to bed, Emmrich puts a marker in his book and places it on the nightstand. He puts forth his hand towards her. Without missing a beat, Louise smiles, slips under the covers and nestles against him.
Her shirt is so threadbare that the freckles on her shoulder are showing through. He makes a mental note to buy her a new one next time he will visit a market.
The feeling of her lips against his interjects this train of thought.
"What are you reading?" she asks, her voice soft in a way only he gets to experience.
"Alternative Applications of Spectral Energy. An enlightening treatise!"
"I bet." She smiles and kisses him again. Then her right index finger finds the top button of his shirt, starts to trace its outline. After a few moments, she tilts her head and looks up at him.
"About that book club question. When I said I would like to start over. I…" She shakes her head.
The blush that is starting to creep up her cheeks is adorable.
"Talk to me, please," he whispers.
"What if you think it's ridiculous?"
"It isn't if it's important to you." He stresses the statement with a gentle press of his lips to the corner of her mouth.
As if bracing for attack, she takes a deep breath. Then she swallows. "I meant with you. I…I would like to come with you. Really. To Nevarra. If…that is…if you'll have me."
Her last words are so small he almost doesn't catch them. When they register, he stops breathing for a moment. Stares at her. Blinks. A surge of almost dizzying affection spreading in his chest makes it hard to focus. He swallows and takes her hand into his, putting a kiss onto every knuckle.
"My darling," he utters eventually, his voice hoarse from the sheer intensity of his emotion for this perfect woman. "I would not have dared to ask this of you. But rest assured – nothing could make me happier."
Her exhale is the embodiment of relief. "Thank you."
"I am the lucky one in this arrangement." He laughs quietly. "So I hope you accept my sincerest gratitude."
"You are a silly man," she says and rubs her hand over her eyes.
Then, she kisses him. Wholeheartedly. A thorough survey of her affection, uttered without a single word. He returns the kiss in kind, his heart doing another little flip. When she cups his face and deepens the kiss, his plans for an early night's rest dissolve like sugar in water.
There are no words grand enough to express the pure bliss this woman bestows upon him, so he does not lose time in the futile attempt to even try. Instead, he sets out to show her the depths of his devotion by worshiping her body. Like any good prayer, it takes time.
After, she looks like sensuality made flesh: flushed skin soaked with sweat, tired limbs, her hair a disheveled mane of copper. One day, he needs to ask her for permission to commission one of Nevarra's finest artists to portray her like this. He already plans to hang the painting in their bedroom.
"What did I do to deserve this?" she asks once she is coherent enough to speak again.
"The simple fact that you are you – wonderful, kind, loyal, smart Louise – is reason enough to worship you for every single day for the rest of our lives. Besides, it would be a farce to wait until our mission is over before paving your path to happiness. You deserve it."
She smiles - a tired, content, lazy curve of her lips. A warm hand brushes a sweaty strand from his brow.
"You have been making me happy ever since the first time you looked at me with these kind eyes of yours."
Lazily, she cuddles up to him, slotting into position like a perfect puzzle piece: her head resting against his shoulder, her arm draped around his waist.
He places his hand over hers, intertwining their fingers. "The very same goes for you. And I cannot wait for the day we triumph against Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain so we can build a future together. Until then, my heart, I swear to do anything in my power to give you the most happiness our circumstances allow."
"You already do," she whispers. "And I promise the same."
She slowly disentangles her hand from his, caresses over his abdomen upwards to his chest. Finally, her palm – soft and warm – comes to rest over his heart. Louise isn't a verbose woman, even less so when it comes to personal matters, but this gesture holds so much intimacy that Emmrich's heart feels close to bursting.
It feels like a dream come true. The rational part of his mind begs him not to rush. He has felt like this before. Many times, although it has been years ago. He has always given his heart freely, cared too early and too much, and every single time without fail it has ended in heartbreak and tears and retreat.
But this time? With this wonderful woman who is strong enough to face ancient gods and brave enough to tell him that she wants a future with him? Even if his brain is trying to shield him from another disappointment, his heart knows what he wants. A happy ending with this woman. A happy beginning, rather. Because she has shown him that a mortal life can hold much more satisfaction and happiness than an eternity of lichdom.
What he truly longs for – always has – is connection. Someone who sees and understands him. All of him. And Louise does. She sees him and she cares for him and she wants to stay with him. And as much as he still thinks about the failed chance at lichdom sometimes, he is well aware that holding this woman in his arms is what substantial happiness looks like.
If this is what comes after he could not think of anything better.