Chapter Text
To say Emmrich Volkarin hated her would be an understatement. He loathed her very existence. The way his eyes flared green, pupils dilated as if death itself took over him every time he encountered her. Every time he tried to kill her. Yet, for some reason, he never strikes the killing blow.
Locking eyes with Rook for the hundredth time as he loomed over her body. His weight pressed against her with his arm raised over his head, staff in hand. His free hand wrapped around her neck, squeezing so tight she struggled to breath. Gritting her teeth as she stared daggers at him.
His grip was just tight enough to keep her conscious as she gasped for air. Necrotic energy oozed from his staff, stifling the dry, dusty air. Her body was aflame with rage, contradicting the cold, hard concrete floor she laid on. Heart pounded rapidly against her chest, struggling to pump as her lungs began to burn.
He had every chance, every opportunity to end her life and here was his greatest moment. In the abandoned warehouse, where only the light from the full moon shone through the broken windows. Illuminating the pair like some tragic Tevinter love story.
Emmrich finally had her alone. Isolated away from her group in a room, too far for them to help in time. However, he didn’t move. His grip around Rooks neck held tight with trembling hands. Bitterness colored his expression, his snarl intense as he took quick breaths in.
Astonished to see tears had pooled in his eyes. Her own vision blurred with unshed tears unsure if what she was seeing was true until a single streak slid down his cheek. Abruptly he dropped his staff and had both hands around her neck. His grip tightened, cutting off completely what little air she was getting. Legs flailed underneath him fighting to break free from his grasp.
She grabbed his wrist with her weak left hand, her right hand was pinned under his knee. His nails dug into her skin, blood trickling down as he broke the surface area. The last thing she saw was him crying before her eyes shut. Lungs burned for even the smallest gulp of air. Her struggled gasps and shuffling feet mixed with his growls of anger muffled into low silence.
Her world began to be ensnared by darkness, despite her eyes being closed. The last face she would ever see was that damn, handsome necromancer, who held nothing but animosity towards one another for the last two years. Maker, she hated how good looking he actually was. How despite his age, could give any of the young mages a run for their money plus some. Maker, his hands were soft even if they were strangling the very life from her.
Suddenly he let go and a large gasp of air filled her lungs. His weight lifted off her body and she rolled over until she was on her hands and knees. Eyes burned from the pressure as tears streamed down. Choking in air, trying to catch the precious life sustaining oxygen into her lungs coughing in-between deep breaths. Her hand flew to her throat, fingers coated in the blood where his nails dug in.
Violet-blue eyes shot in his direction. He was just standing there, shaking with his hand on his chest trying to calm his breathing. Clumsily she got to her feet, still coughing as her lungs reacquainted itself with the air. There was nothing close enough to lean on as she hunched over, a hand on her knee to keep steady.
“What the fuck, Volkarin?” Rooks voice was harsh and raw. It was painful to talk as she continued to cough.
He turned to face her and the bitterness in his eyes was gone. Taken aback by the soft hazel in his eyes, his expression was confused. Eyes searched her face for an answer to a question neither of them knew to ask. And yet, for some fucking reason, seeing him like this…seeing him at all made her heart flutter.
The distance trampling of multiple boots hitting the ground pulled her attention towards the open doorframe. Running footsteps coming towards them, fast. Echoing through the large warehouse, unsure which direction they were coming from.
Rook turned back to Emmrich, hurt and confusion littered his face. He picked up his staff, facing her with a deep, desperate, wanting in his expression before he turned to flee out the back door. Shortly after his departure the other door bursted open.
“Rook!” Her elven brother stood in the doorway, winded, eyes widened in horror when they landed on her neck. “Are you alright? Where is he?”
“Nice of you to finally join me, Davrin.” Wincing as her throat was still sore. Taking three large steps, Davrin stood in front of her. Looking down, something he could only do if he wore tall boots, he began inspecting her neck.
“What did he do to you?” Tilting her head with his hands as he checked the wounds. “You two, go out that back door and track him.”
He instructed the two younglings at the door as they bolted out the same backdoor Emmrich had.
“Davrin, I’m fine.” She pushed his hands away, trying to fix the mess that was her copper hair. “Fuck, I need a hair cut.” She thought to herself, walking off and out the backdoor unsure of where she was actually going. Her throat was hurting less and the bleeding had stopped.
"You didn’t answer my question? What happened and why the hell was Emmrich Volkarin here?” Davrin was right behind her, practically breathing down her neck. Stopping in her tracks, she turned to face the elf which seemed to surprise him.
“How did you know he was here?” Rook asked, voice laced with suspicion.
“I had to stop Viago from killing an innocent man who was, apparently, here to meet Volkarin.”
“So why the FUCK are you asking me why he was here if you already fucking knew?” She winced, grabbing hold of her throat, gently massaging it.
“Because, no one has ever gone against him alone and lived to talk about it.” Davrin crossed his arm across his chest with his head tilted to the side. She locked eyes with his dark browns as the creaks and echoes of the old warehouse rang through the night. Boots against cold concrete and voices too far to understand what was being said reverberated throughout.
Finally Davrin let out an exasperated sigh before bringing his hand to his face, pinching his nose.
"Zea-”
“Ugh. Don’t call me that here. You know that name is only for when we are home.” Davrin rolled his eyes before starting over.
“Rook. No one was supposed to know about this drop. Any crow spotted in the city is killed on sight, you know this.” He recrossed his arms, brows furrowed with unease. “Lucanis and Viago took a huge risk getting this to us. It’s no coincidence that Hezenkoss’ number one Watch dog was here.”
Davin was right, that much she knew. If only that youngling crow, Jacobus and his four friends, hadn’t tried to assassinate Johanna against order. Whatever made them think they could get close to her with Volkarin around, was foulheartedly. And sadly, the five boys didn’t even make off the ground floor before Volkarin unleashed his necrotic spells on them. Once Johanna was officially sworn in as mayor, she declared any and all Crows were to be killed on sight and anyone caught aiding them would meet a similar fate.
Regardless, it wasn't like she could tell him that Volkarin’s presence there that tonight was indeed a coincidence. He would ask too many questions. Questions she still didn’t have the answer to.
Emmrich Volkarin was Johanna Hezenkoss’ number one necromancer for her secret police force, The Gloaming Watch. He was her lapdog and rumors around the city were that he was her lover. Though Rook imagined it was as loveless and cold as that harpy's soul.
The way he wrapped himself around that slimy bitch. Doing whatever he was told like a good puppy. There was no denying Emmrich had talent. Talent that was wasted on a low life gang that wanted nothing more than to see Necroplise city fall. Aspiring necromancers that wanted to be in the secret police, would have to train under Volkarin as a last test. If you survived him, you would then have to survive Hezenkoss. And she was by far the worst.
Hezenkoss’ silver tongue and the seemingly endless supply of money she threw around, made it easy for her to manipulate people. How she was able to sink her filthy claws into him and hold him for so many decades, baffled her. Such a talented man should be smart enough to see the red flags and that's what pissed her off about him. Besides the fact that he’s killed many of her close friends and family in front of her. Honestly, she hated him just as much as he hated her. Or so she thought.
Even moreso, she hated how after nearly strangling her to death, all she could think about was why he was crying? Why did the way he looked at her pull at her heart achingly? Did she want to…comfort him?
“Thedas to Rook, you still with me? How long was your brain without oxygen?” Davrin waved his hand in her face. “You zoned out. Are you sure you’re ok?” His arms were still crossed in front of his chest but his shoulders had slumped, his posture reflecting his concern.
Shaking free the absurd notion from her head, “I’m tired and nearly died. Did we at least get the item from Lucanis and Viago?” She asked, tenderly rubbing her neck, positive there would be bruising.
“Yea, we got it.”
“Wha-”
“Don’t ask me what it is. I haven’t opened the package cause Momma Thorne said not to. And you know what happens when you disobey her order.” Davrin looked at her as if waiting for a reply to his clearly rhetorical question.
“Yes I know what momma will do, Davrin.” Rook snapped trying not to strain her sore throat. “I want to go home and rest and drink something that will make me forget tonight. So if we are done, can we go please?” Turning to continue her walk away from him when his smart ass mouth remarked,
“We can once you start going in the right direction.” She threw her head back, gritting her teeth, fighting the ugh not to deck him in his mouth. A fight she was rapidly losing as she was greeted with a stupid ass smirk on his face.
“You better be glad you’re momma’s favorite.”
Rook and Davrin made their way back to their hideout in little Hossberg or lil’Hoss as the regulars called it. A village on the edge of the city. As the two entered a little shop that was made into a half sitdown eatery, half convenience store, Momma Throne was standing behind a counter assisting a customer.
A qunari woman knocking on 70, yet didn’t look a day over 40. Both her horns were broken with one having been fitted with a gold replacement. A chain attached to the gold hung between the broken horn, adorned with various golds and sapphires. Her hair was completely white which made her golden eyes stand out. Well one eye; the other was foggy as she could no longer see from it. Thorne kept an eye patch over it, along all the various scars across her face, giving her a hard look.
However, anyone who truly knew her, knew she was a kinda woman and one not to be trifled with. Momma Thorne had taken Rook and Davrin in at a tender age when they tried to pickpocket her on the streets of Mortalihattan. The borough Johanna and her Watchers run.
The chime of the door opening made the qunari’s head turn towards the ringing.
“Zea. Davrin. Glad your back.” Momma Thornes greeted them with a ruff husky voice, years of smoking two packs a day of Par-vollen brand smokes. “Did you get what we need?” Davrin patted the pocket of his worn down leather jacket before walking off towards the back room.
Rook stayed behind briefly to ensure the last customer left before locking up. She and Momma Thorne followed Davrin to the back, through a door, down a long flight of stairs and through another door.
The room was a larger armory. Walls lined with various axes, swords, maces, throwing knives, hand grenades, and even some newer, higher power weapons; Crossbows and flamethrowers, poisoned tipped arrows and knives.
Mages are rare and almost all who show signs of magical inclination are sent to the Nevarra’s school for gifted. Which was just a pipeline straight into Hezenkoss’ grasp.
Most of the members in the Grey held no magical abilities, so runes and magic infused weapons come in handy. Rook was an axe wielding reaper. Something she and Davrin found amusing when fighting against the Watchers necromancers.
Moving deeper into the rather large room where maps and boards littered the wall. Marked in black and red ink, lines overlapping through various city plans. Momma Thorne moved towards the desk, rounding it before she sat down with a grunt.
“Ok Dav, show me.” Davrin moved closer to the desk, reaching into he coat pocket and pulling out a folded brown bag. He placed the bag on the table and slid it over to Throne.
Rook watched with anticipation as Thorne went about opening the mysterious package. As the item was revealed, Rooks face contorted in disgust. Laid out on the table was a decayed severed hand.
“What the fuck? You had the Crows risk their lives to bring us a severed hand? Why?” Rook asked incredulously.
“Calm your tits, Zea.” Thorne didn’t look at her. Kept her gaze on the severed hand before her. “This little magical item is gonna help us get rid of Hezenkoss and her Watchers for good.”
“How is a severed hand supposed to do that?” Davrin pipped in as he had no idea what was in the bag either.
“You know Neve was a former detective in the imperium before she settled down with Lucanis right?” Thorne leaned back in her chair, it gave a loud squeak as the chair was quite old and Thorne was no small fry. “Neve got wind that Hezenkoss was looking for something called ‘the hand of glory’. The Threads found it first.”
“Who the hell are the Threads?” Davrin and Rook exchanged confused looks with each other.
“They are what remains of the Crows and Shadow Dragons. A combined effort, working in the dark.” Thorne explained.
“Hmm, that could be the reason Volkarin was there tonight.” Momma Thornes expression hardened as the hum of flickering lights and bug zappers filled the stiff air. Rook stared at Davrin trying to keep her face neutral while inside she was fuming.
“Volkarin was there tonight?”
“Yea and Rook here, survived the encounter with him, alone.” Davrin pointed his thumb without looking at her. “She even has a bruise around her neck where he tried to strangle her.”
Andraste’s tits, she wished he would shut the fuck up.
Momma Thorne snapped her head in Rook's direction. Anticipation colored her face as the hands on the clock ticked away.
“Well?”
“Well what?” Rook began. “Yes, He was there but I don’t think he was there for us.”
“Oh? And what makes you think that?” Momma Thorne narrowed her eye at her. Rooks mind raced through various answers and none of them would be good enough for Thorne.
“Let's just call it a hunch.” Crossing her arms across her chest while she shifted her weight to one leg. “He’s been acting strange lately.” Rooks voice dropped a bit, laced with uncertainty. The look on Thornes face gave Rook pause. Shit. She straightened her stance, clearing her throat.
“Hmm. Seems someone has been paying close attention to Johanna's little bitch.”
“Not at all, momma.” Shifting her weight to the other leg, she uncrossed her arms, her gaze fell on Davrin and then back to Thorne. “You know Volkarin and I have been dancing around each other for years. Fights with the watchers have picked up since that old hag became mayor.” Rook tried to keep her voice steady. “Just tell us how this dead hand is gonna help us.” Hoping to get the spotlight off of her by refocusing on the severed limb.
Momma Thorne shifted her eye from Rook to Davrin and back.
“In the morning.” She leaned forward placing the hand back into the brown bag. “You two go back to the house and get some rest, especially you, Rook.”
The two did as they were told, heading back up to the shop, out the door and across the street to an apartment building. Momma Thorne never told them what the hand of glory’s true purpose was.
Several days later Rook found herself in Hell’s imperium. Beside Antiva square, Hell’s Imperium was the closest and relatively safest place for a Grey to travel; plus the imperium had the best fish sandwiches in her opinion. Rivains quality of fish dropped significantly when the Watchers took control.
Fish smell lingered in the air no matter where in the borough. Selling fish was the town's main source of income and frequently as Rook visited, she was used to the smell. She had gotten a hair cut, short with a low buzz on the side and styled in a shaggy bob. She wore an all black jacket with a white crop top, black jeans and boots. Rocking a pair of black shades as she walked about the market district.
As Rook continued her walk through the busy crowd, she stopped dead in her tracks. Peering over her shades, she saw him. Tall, a good head above most of the crowd. Hard to miss such a dapper looking man, salt and pepper hair neatly combed back, the aged lines around his eyes and lips. Those luscious red lips and perfectly shaped mustaches.
Until his hazel eyes locked with hers from across the ever moving crowd, Rook didn’t realize how long she had been staring at him. Volkarin, his wide eyed expression didn’t convey hostility, at least not until one of the goons with him tracked his line of sight.
“Look!” Another goon looked over.
“It’s that whore, Rook. GET HER!”
FUCK!
Being unarmed and in a large crowd of innocent people, fighting them would had been suicidal. She took off in a sprint in the opposite direction. Panting hard as she ran through the crowd. Rook wasn’t the type that made running a hobby, so zig zagging through the crowd and empty buildings was her only option.
She knew Hell’s Imperium about as well as she did lil’Hossberg, ditching the goons would be a breeze. Ditching Volkarin, however, would be tougher. For a man in his 50’s he was pretty quick and light on his feet and knew the city about as well as she did.
Cutting through alleyways, shops, and streets, she made hard left and right turns until she was positive she had lost them. She found herself in an alley near an empty building, the main street ahead. Sweat trickled down her back, as her breath evened out. She hated running.
After calming her breathing, she made her way towards the main road, questioning why Volkarin looked so furious at his goons for their insult. She shook her head at the absurd notion. Him, upset from an insult slung at her? He would blast her with necrotic energy first, she thought.
Suddenly a hand grabbed her arm and violently pulled her into the darkened empty building, out of sight from the main road. A large hand covered her mouth, her eyes shot up, locking them with whoever had the audacity to grab her, a single finger was pressed against his lips.
“Dammit. Where did she go?” One goon with a thick guttural accent spoke.
“I don't know. Where’s Emmrich?” The other was a young boy. Too young.
“How should I know? The old fucker shouldn’t have come. Just slows us down”
Emmrich never looked away. The pair stared at each other, silently listening to his goons ramble on and insult him. Rook could care less about what they were saying as she looked deep into his eyes. Despite the dark area, she could make out the hint of green in the hazel. Natural, unlike the veil fire green he conjures during fights.
“Don’t let him hear you say that.”
“Whatever, let's go this way and circle back.” The distant sounds of the boots against the ground faded away from where Rook and Emmrich stood, hidden behind a wall.
Once the only sound was the bustling busy street, He removed his hand from her mouth, only to grab her arm and roughly pulled her further into the empty building. The golden glow of the sun casted its light, radiating a warmth throughout the empty space.
A contrast to the rough, cold nature of Emmrich dragging her into a spare room. Her back stung as he slammed her against a far wall pushing all the air from her lungs. Before she could recover, his hand found its place around her neck once more. His other hand was firmly gripped around her arm.
Leaning in so close, she could feel his breath on her lips.
“Why do you hunt me so.” His words came more a statement or perhaps a question to himself. The sunlight hitting his face gave him an ethereal glow.
She swallowed hard, his grip on her neck wasn’t nearly as tight as before. Gently pressed against her exposed collar bone, thumb caressing up and down her skin. Her heart fluttered and pounded rapidly in her chest. Two years ago, she would have kicked and clawed her way out of his grasp, tried to kill him with everything she had. However, the more she encountered him, the more she spoke with him, hearing that sultry voice lit her core on fire with every passing moment.
Even as he stared at her, confusion all over his face. Was he struggling with the same feelings she was? It pissed her off to no end that her enemy made her feel like this was.
“What do you want with me, Volkrain?” The question came out harsher than she intended, realization dawned that her breath was coming in shallow.
“I…I do not know.” Eyes intense as the veilfire green briefly flashed in his eyes with an unreadable expression shadowed upon his face. “I find myself unable to banish you from my thoughts.” Releasing her arm, he traced an old scar along his neck line with a single finger. “It was you who inflicted this ghastly wound, years ago. You remain the sole person to injure me and survive. For years, it was the perpetual subject of my contemplation."
Rook felt his hand slide further up her neck, his grip tightened slightly, a reflection of the struggle he was fighting.
“I was a stupid teen when that happened. If I’m being honest, I wasn’t even aiming for you when I threw that knife.” Had Emmrich really been obsessed with her for so long? The question swirled in her head over and over.
“Doesn’t matter. The truth still stands and for years my sole desire has been to repay you for the mark you have bestowed upon me.”
“Are you saying you’ve been infatuated with me since I was 16?” His grip tightened even more. Swallowing was becoming difficult, reminiscent of that night in the warehouse days ago.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You were a child.” The tightness around her neck loosened, snaking his hand to the back of her neck. “I do not understand the origins of these sentiments I have towards you...” There was barely a breath of space between them when he pressed his body against her. Her chest began to rapidly rise and fall as her breasts were pushed against his chest.
“Until two years ago when my eyes beheld you amidst the crowd at Johanna’s mayoral address. And now, it seems, I encounter you at every turn.” He moved his free hand, creasing her face, his hardened expression softened. “You haunt my very dreams.”
They stared at each other, the sounds of the outside world moving past them filled the space between them. He downcasted his eyes when he began to speak again.
“I find myself torn. I am uncertain whether my inclinations lean more towards causing you harm…” He locked eyes with her once more. “Or to fuck you so profound that the only utterance on your lips would be my name.”
Rooks breath hitched in her throat. She expected his hostility; Not…whatever was happening. She swore he could hear the increasingly rapid beating of her heart threatening to burst from her chest. The thought of him touching her in any intimate fashion should have disgusted her. Made her push him away with all her might.
Yet, here she stood, mind racing with thoughts of how he tasted, how his hand would feel anywhere else on her body. She hated that she felt this way at all about him. Anyone but Emmrich Volkarin.
Regaining her composure, she swallowed hard.
“Well…I think now would be a good time to-” He cut her off when his lips collided with hers.
FUUUCK!
Why did he taste so sweet? Lips soft despite the his aggression. Forcing his tongue in her mouth, deepening their kiss. The hand on the back of her neck moved to cup her face. She responded leaning into the kiss, her hands grabbed fistfull of his coat. His scent filled her nose, sweet notes of black tea and lavender. Hints of petrichor sent a mix of warmth down in the pit of her stomach and a chill up her spin, unintentionally pushing her hips into him.
He pushed his body against hers more, before pulling away. They locked eyes once more, guilt and shame colored his face. Her heart rapidly beating against her chest, her expression matched his. What was she doing? She just made out with Hezenkoss’ dog; with Emmrich Volkarin.
Before another word was spoken, the voices of the two goons came back. Emmrich looked off in the direction of the sound, not letting go of her face. When he turned back to face her, the guilt gave way to determination. He brushed his nose against hers before planting another kiss on her lips. He slid a hand down her face and body slowly before placing something in her pocket.
“Please meet me tomorrow night, here in the imperium at the address on that slip. Please Rook, be there.” He kissed her once more before darting off.
Rook stood there, back against the wall. What in the blighted hells just happened?