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"Professor Volkarin," Dorian said. "Could I persuade you to have dinner with me?"
He tucked his hands behind his back and smiled in his best attempt to look fine and upstanding but also charming and handsome. He was very good at it. Usually, it worked. The excited buzz he felt, like magic on his skin, said he definitely hoped it would this time.
"I promise I won't keep you out too scandalously late," he continued. "And I'll return you to your team in the same excellent condition in which I found you."
Emmrich's condition did seem to be excellent, he thought. He looked good. Dorian had not as much as caught a glimpse of him in twenty years before the previous week, but he looked good. The grey suited him. The smile lines suited him, too. He was as well-dressed and attractive as he'd ever been, and still so very firmly Dorian's type. Dorian had smiled and Emmrich had returned it, as if all that he had were fond memories. It had made him hopeful. And so, after they'd said goodbye the previous week, when the pleasant surprise of seeing him again had finally worn off, he'd resolved to ask him to dinner. He'd thought perhaps they could...catch up.
However, Emmrich's smile fell from his face so abruptly that Dorian found himself wondering if it had ever actually been real. Emmrich looked at Dorian rather like he'd just been asked to ride a wild druffalo to Denerim and back. Possibly while naked. Dorian had asked a great many excellent people for a great many laughable things, but that definitely did not number amongst them.
"No," Emmrich said. It came out something like a squeak and really quite undignified, which wasn't at all like the Emmrich Volkarin that Dorian remembered. He cleared his throat. "No," he said again, much more normally this time, but really no less flustered. "I, er. That is. No."
Emmrich paused. He frowned. He seemed to cast around vaguely for additional words, ones that might clarify his point or maybe dull its sharp edges, but all he came back with was another clear, "No." Then he turned and strode away toward the room where they kept the eluvian. In a heartbeat, he was gone.
"Well, I must say, it's been some time since I was last rejected so emphatically," Dorian said, to no one in particular. Possibly just to himself.
Rook and Harding looked at each other. They exchanged an awkward glance, then they both looked back at Dorian.
"I'm sorry, I have no idea what that was about," Rook said. "But we should..." He gestured after Emmrich. Harding was already shuffling away, not terribly discreetly, toward the nearby door.
Dorian nodded. "Oh, yes, naturally," he agreed. "I hope to see you again soon, Rook. Harding. Do come by any time."
And as the two of them disappeared after their comrade, Dorian turned and he frowned into the fire. His mouth took an involuntary and bitter twist, because even if Rook didn't, he did know what that was about. It was his past coming back to haunt him, in the most thoroughly predictable way possible.
But, he thought, all a haunting meant was they required a spot of exorcism.
---
He should have let it be, but it really wasn't very long until he found out that he couldn't. He couldn't get the sudden reappearance of a certain Nevarran professor to stay out of his head. And that was when he went to the Lighthouse.
He was busy. He was extremely busy. Tevinter was in disarray to more than its usual high standards and he actually did have duties that extended beyond hedonism and occasional blackmail. But Ashur always found the time away from his more official duties to play the Docktown vigilante, and so Dorian told himself he could find the time for this. Maevaris had been scolding him for his tendency toward overwork, possibly because she was the only one who saw it when he actually took situations seriously and lately the situation truly had been serious. So really, he was just doing as she told him. He doubted she would agree about that, but he liked to think it would have been a friendly disagreement.
The Lighthouse was an exceptionally odd place but Dorian couldn't help but think it was actually quite nice, as far as trips into the Fade went. He had some experience in that direction, after all.
On his first visit, one afternoon when he should have been somewhere else entirely, he told the team all about the time he'd ended up in the Fade with the Inquisitor, Varric and Solas. He remembered the spiders that it had transpired weren't actually spiders for everyone, and the candles and the tombstones, and the demon that went digging around inside their heads for all their loose fears, like rifling their pockets for change. Comparatively speaking, the risk of being swept from one's feet by a floating chunk of rock seemed incredibly tame. He was actually quite jealous.
When they inevitably asked him about Solas, and if he'd suspected what he was, he simply shrugged and said, "Well, he was always quite self-important. But I suppose several of us were, now I give it some thought." Then he admitted he'd had no idea. After all, how did one actually come to the conclusion that a comrade-in-arms, even a moderately obnoxious one such as Solas, was the elven god of lies? He'd been acquainted with a number of odd characters over the years, but making the acquaintance of the Dread Wolf seemed a tad outlandish even for him.
Still, it was actually quite a pleasant afternoon. Lucanis made coffee. Harding offered him cheese, which was marginally perplexing, as was the way Taash glared at him when he decided that yes, actually, he would like some cheese. But it was still very nice to stretch his legs and get out of Minrathous, even if the way there had been somewhat full of Venatori. He'd had the great if unexpected pleasure of personally dispatching them, however, which made the walk more than worthwhile all by itself.
The only slight issue was that Emmrich had made a thoroughly transparent excuse about catching up on his reading and had vanished from the library before Dorian could so much as say hello. One look, albeit lingering, then he was gone in a flash. Dorian understood, of course, but that didn't mean he liked it; as a matter of fact, he very much did not.
The next time he visited, not too many days later, Bellara ambushed him on his way toward the dining room. He'd been hoping to investigate whether Lucanis had any more of that coffee, though he had to admit that coming face to face with the Demon of Vyrantium was also a bit of a thrill: he'd known more than one mage who'd done precisely that and resolutely not lived to tell the tale, after all. He felt like he'd joined a rather exclusive club.
But Bellara had ambushed him and they had sat down on a couch in the library to talk. And when Emmrich walked through, Dorian called to him. He asked him, "Would you care to join us, professor? Bellara has a rather unusually large volume of questions about blood magic, and I'm afraid I'm rather ill equipped to answer them alone."
It was a cry for help as much as it was an invitation. Bellara had more questions than the Magisterium when a plan went awry. But all Emmrich said in response to that was, "Apologies, Bellara. That's truly not my area of expertise." He didn't so much as acknowledge Dorian's presence, at least not in any verbal way - he gave him a familiar look, then he let himself out through the doors. Quickly. To the trained eye, and likely also to the untrained, it looked quite a lot like he fled.
"Usually he doesn't mind if it's not his area of expertise," Bellara muttered to herself, as she sat there watching the doors close. Then she seemed to recall - quite suddenly - that she wasn't alone. She turned back, wide-eyed, to face Dorian. "Oh. Um. I'm sure it has nothing to do with you?" she said.
Dorian chuckled. "My dear, I'm sure it has," he replied. "Now where were we?" He supposed at least the interrogation on blood magic might take his mind off the awkward matter at hand.
The next time he visited, a few too-long days after that, he and Rook were standing in the library, reminiscing about their days in the Necropolis when Emmrich came through the room.
"Apparently you taught us both," Dorian called to him, and Emmrich came to an abrupt halt not too far away. Emmrich looked at him. Dorian knew that look.
"In a, er," he said. He cleared his throat. He pulled himself up straight like he was pulling himself together, and he tucked his hands behind his back. "In a loose sense of the word, I believe?" he said. "Rook attended one of my lectures. As I recall, you generally preferred to avoid them."
"I've always favoured a more hands-on approach to education," Dorian told him, and Emmrich winced for just a fraction of a second. It flitted across his face so quickly it was barely even there at all before he regained his usual composure, but it had been there. Dorian was sure of it.
"Yes, well," Emmrich said. "Be that as it may. Yes. I. Yes." He made an oddly polite half-bow and took a step back. It seemed his composure had worn out and he was at a loss again. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen..."
Dorian most certainly did not excuse him, but Emmrich still left them there. Frankly, he supposed he hadn't expected any different, though Rook looked rather baffled. Dorian did not explain, however, and Rook had the good manners not to ask.
The next time, Dorian was having tea with Taash and Manfred when Emmrich strode through the room; when Dorian asked him if he'd like to join them, Emmrich smiled tightly, shook his head, and kept on walking. Taash, for their part, did not appear to see anything amiss in this. Manfred, on the other hand, gave Dorian a rather confused kind of look, and a rather confused kind of hiss. It was likely for the best that he couldn't actually form words at that particular juncture.
The next time, he was discussing politics with Neve. She had some very definite ideas, with which Dorian did not entirely disagree, but he was also aware that implementation of any of those ideas would be nigh on impossible from his present political position. She told him he was just making excuses, which he flatly and genuinely denied, and they were possibly doing something that came quite close to arguing when Emmrich strode through the library. It was understandable that he didn't want to get himself entangled in their conversation, though Dorian still paused and asked him to join them. Emmrich declined. Which sadly meant he didn't get to see that the conversation moved on to the Venatori next - a subject upon which he and Neve wholeheartedly agreed.
The next time he visited, however, Dorian was in the library alone when Emmrich walked by.
"Could I interest you in a cup of tea, professor?" Dorian asked him.
Emmrich sighed as he came to a halt. He looked at him, that same old look, but he said, "Please stop,"
"I only wanted to--"
"Stop."
His voice was raised, which from what Dorian recalled was moderately unlike him. Dorian stopped because of it, and they looked at each other, without a grimace or a possibly forced smile on Emmrich's face, for the first time in...well, some time.
"Professor," Dorian said. "Emmrich. I owe you an apology."
Emmrich scoffed. "You owe me no such thing," he replied. "Our time together in Nevarra...well, it did always have a clear end date. I believe both of us knew that at the time."
"Yes, I do realise that, but I--"
"Now come along, Manfred. We'll be late for tea with Taash."
And that was that: Emmrich left. Again. Dorian sat back on the couch and he scrubbed his face with both his hands. The frustrated sound he made echoed oddly in the very odd space.
The fact was: if Emmrich had told him to stop coming to the Lighthouse, he would have.
The fact was: If Emmrich hadn't looked at him the way he did, time and again, he would have stayed away.
But he hadn't told him, and the way that Emmrich looked at him each time they met was...well, it was the reason he'd asked him to dinner that sunny afternoon in Minrathous. It was the reason he kept coming back when his time could have been much more usefully employed elsewhere. He did not enjoy rejection, but thus far he hadn't actually been rejected.
Dorian knew what desire looked like. He knew what it looked like directed at him.
He also knew the fact that Emmrich was avoiding him was entirely his own fault.
Nothing was going to plan.
---
The next time Dorian came to the Lighthouse, Emmrich was sitting alone in the library. He eyed Dorian as he sat down at the far end of the same couch he was sitting on. He closed the book that he'd been reading and he set it down between them. It made a strangely effective barrier.
"Hello, Dorian," Emmrich said, as he set his hands down on his knees.
"Hello, Emmrich," Dorian replied.
"You intend to keep on visiting, don't you."
"Yes, I do."
"Can I ask you why?"
"I'm fairly certain you just did," Dorian pointed out, and when Emmrich arched his eyebrows at him he moved on from that quickly. "I could tell you it makes a wonderful change from Minrathous. I could tell you I enjoy the team's company. And while things would be true, the truth is I come to see you."
"Why is that?"
"I think you know why."
"If I say I don't?"
"Then I'd say I'm not actually a narcissist. I can usually tell when someone's interested in me."
"If I said I'm not?"
"Then I'd call you a liar. Which you never were before."
"Would that make you leave?"
"Are you telling me you want me to?"
Emmrich paused. He was gripping his knees so tightly that had he not been wearing gloves, Dorian was certain that his knuckles would have been a nice bright shade of white. Then, slowly, he released his grip. He stood.
"Very well," Emmrich said.
"I don't--"
"I said, very well."
"But that doesn't--"
Emmrich turned, then he began to walk back to his room instead of out the Lighthouse doors like usual. Dorian watched him go, until Emmrich paused and looked back down at him from over the sweep of the railing.
"Well, are you coming or not?" Emmrich asked him, curtly, and then resumed his exit. And so, puzzled, Dorian went.
He wasn't entirely sure what he'd expected to happen, but what actually happened was not it. Emmrich led him into his room; he stepped aside to hold the door and then he swept it closed behind them. Then, he took Dorian by his upper arms and he pushed him back against it. He told him, "Turn around," and so Dorian did that. He told him, "Now, don't move," so Dorian did that, too. It was thrilling, though he did feel a spike of mild concern.
He heard Emmrich sigh. He felt Emmrich's hands on his shoulders, gripping him there just a little too tightly, but he didn't try to shrug them off - he didn't want Emmrich to get the wrong idea and stop whatever this was that he was doing. He felt Emmrich's hands move down, his palms spreading over his back, thumbs both following his spine as they went down lower. Dorian's breath caught and he chuckled it out wryly a few inches from the door. Of course Emmrich could still do that to him. Of course he could. The way he looked at him each time they saw each other, he really shouldn't have doubted it.
"Take off your coat," Emmrich said, so Dorian did that. He handed it to him and Emmrich gestured for him to face the door again - he didn't see where his coat ended up. Then Emmrich's hands were on him again, untucking his shirt and pushing up underneath, though it felt like he still had his gloves on. Dorian didn't mind that. He actually quite liked that. He just also couldn't quite understand what had happened to make Emmrich jump from avoidance to this.
Emmrich stepped closer. His arms circled Dorian's waist and his hands found Dorian's belt; he unbuckled it, and, after a moment's pause, he pushed Dorian's trousers down over his hips. He pushed Dorian's shirt up and he tucked it in under his arms while Dorian leaned farther forward against the back of the door. He ran one gloved hand down Dorian's spine, from his neck down to his coccyx, and he rubbed there. He ran both hands to Dorian's arse and squeezed. Then Dorian heard a sound he recognised as Emmrich getting to his knees. He felt Emmrich's breath against his bare skin and he shivered in anticipation.
Emmrich spread Dorian's cheeks and he ran one gloved thumb over his hole. He pressed against it and Dorian felt his balls tighten sharply. Then, with no warning at all, Emmrich's tongue teased against him. It was sudden and hot, thrilling, wet, tracing his rim with the tip for a second before he started to press it against him, again and again, until Dorian's rather over-tight hole began relaxing. He groaned and arched his back as Emmrich's tongue began to push inside him, just a fraction deeper on every thrust. It felt wonderful.
But then Emmrich pulled back. Dorian started to mutter something under his breath then thought better of it as he felt one of Emmrich's hands push in between his legs and give his balls a squeeze. For a moment, he almost thought that Emmrich would have him turn around so he could put his mouth on him the way he'd used to, slow but not exactly teasing, but he didn't. Emmrich stood instead, and he stepped in close, and Dorian was not exactly unfamiliar with the feeling as the tip of Emmrich's cock pushed up against the bare skin of his back. He wasn't unfamiliar with the feeling as Emmrich rubbed the tip of his cock between Dorian's cheeks, or when he pressed it up against his hole. He liked it. It was perhaps a little sudden after twenty years apart, he would have preferred to have dinner and some flirting first, but he liked it.
He thought he might just do it like that, and he supposed he wouldn't have complained until afterwards, but Emmrich squeezed his hips then moved away. When he came back, he ran two fingers between Dorian's cheeks - he was still wearing his gloves but his fingers were slick now, and the first one pressed inside him easily. Dorian moaned and pressed back eagerly against Emmrich's hand. He reached back for Emmrich's wrist to hold him still and fuck himself on his finger, but Emmrich slapped his hand away; Dorian groaned in frustration, but only for a moment, because then Emmrich pushed a second finger into him. He gripped him by his hip and he pushed his fingers knuckle-deep, and then he did it again. Maker, he still knew exactly what he liked. When Dorian groaned again, it definitely wasn't from frustration.
Then Emmrich pulled his fingers back out. A slick wet sound and then Dorian felt Emmrich's cock against him, the blunt tip pressing up against his hole. He knew what Emmrich looked like naked, or at least he assumed he still did, if his memory was accurate. He remembered looking at him like that for the first time, in Emmrich's room in the Grand Necropolis, and thinking what a terrible waste it was for such an exceptional manhood to be hidden away in the Mourn Watch of all places. The skeletons they worked with certainly had no need of it and even if they somehow had, Dorian would have always said his need was greater. Emmrich had seemed aware that he was on the larger side and hadn't seemed embarrassed by it in the way some men of Dorian's acquaintance had. That he'd known exactly how to use it had been an unexpected delight.
He remembered how it had been twenty years before, and so it was easy to imagine how it looked as his hole was opened up by Emmrich's cock. He pushed into him, not precisely slowly, as Dorian's heart pounded in his chest and his breath came loudly against the thick wooden door. He could feel him pushing in, and the way he gripped his hips with his gloved hands, until he bottomed out against Dorian's arse and paused there for a moment with his hips pressed up against him. His hands moved up to bracket Dorian's waist. Dorian leaned a little lower with his forearms pressed against the door. Then Emmrich took a shaky breath and started moving. It was wonderful. It was precisely what he'd wanted ever since that first chance meeting in the Shadow Dragons' den. It was precisely what he'd wanted since he'd first come to Nevarra.
However, it was over quickly. Emmrich didn't try to make it last, which was actually strikingly unlike what Dorian remembered. He did make it good, however - Emmrich pressed one hand to the door and slipped the other to Dorian's cock, so that every time he pushed into him, Dorian pushed into his fist. It felt wonderful, as a matter of fact, but it also felt...empty? Odd. Not what he'd imagined when he'd started visiting the Lighthouse. Not what he'd imagined when Emmrich Volkarin had walked into the Shadow Dragon HQ. He'd thought he was being quite restrained by not just kissing him there in front of everyone, actually, when there was obviously still such a spark between them. The silver fox thing really worked for him. Dorian could only hope it would work for him when the time came, too.
But it was over quickly. Emmrich gasped and he pushed into him one last time and Dorian understood precisely what was happening: it had been some time since he'd last let someone come inside him, but that was precisely what Emmrich did then. The thought of it, admittedly combined with the feeling of Emmrich's cock still inside him, and Emmrich's hand around him, was more than enough to finish him off, in a weak-kneed moment something close to ecstasy. Then Emmrich pulled out, rather too soon and too quickly for Dorian's taste, and he left him there. It was strange. Disconcerting, even.
Dorian pulled his clothes back into place. They felt awkward on his damp skin, and he had to make a conscious effort to keep Emmrich's come from leaking back out of him. He thought if he could make it all the way back to Minrathous like that, he'd shut himself away and take his time getting off again, with his own fingers and Emmrich's come. Emmrich had liked to watch him do it, once upon a time, and Dorian had made a show of smudging it all over his rim so that Emmrich would push back inside him. But when he turned away from the door now, Emmrich was buttoning his waistcoat and looking oddly unruffled. Dorian wasn't sure if it was an act or not. He wasn't sure why it would be.
"You know, this isn't exactly how I remember this working before," Dorian said.
Emmrich sat down on the chair at his desk and glanced up at him, but only for a second. "It's what I can spare for you, Dorian," he told him. "If you're in any way unsatisfied, you're more than welcome to leave."
Dorian frowned. "I am very certain I didn't say that," he said.
Emmrich gave him a brief look that said he'd strongly implied it. Dorian made a face because he knew that was actually true.
He wanted to ask him what was wrong, except he supposed he already knew. He'd been rather naive in thinking one quick fumble would set things right between them after how things had ended. Fumbling had been part of the problem.
"Should I go, then?" Dorian asked him.
Emmrich looked up at him again. He sat back on his chair and he folded his hands over his chest. He'd taken his gloves off for rather obvious reasons, and Dorian was struck with a ridiculous urge to take him by the hands. He might have kissed them. He stayed where he was, however.
"Oh, Dorian," Emmrich said. "You were always more than capable of deciding for yourself when to leave."
"Ah." Dorian smiled ruefully. "Yes," he said, "I suppose I was." He pulled on his coat as Emmrich watched him from across the room. It was time to go and he knew it.
"You know, I did miss you," Dorian said, with his back turned and his hand resting heavy on the doorknob.
It wasn't until the door was swinging closed behind him that he heard Emmrich say, "No, Dorian, I don't know that."
Maybe he should have gone back in. He was positive - he was almost positive, at least - that he could have made him understand. But then he heard the door locking behind him. So, he left instead.
The hollow, aching feeling in his chest was his own fault. And he had no idea what he was meant to do about it.
---
He should have stopped returning to the Lighthouse. He knew that. He wasn't a complete imbecile, despite all evidence to the contrary, so he definitely knew that. But he kept on going back instead.
He fit in surprisingly well with the team and they didn't seem to mind him strolling in every three or four days, whenever his schedule allowed it. Taash liked hearing stories about fighting dragons. Lucanis was surprisingly gregarious on the subject of mage-killing and actually, Dorian didn't mind hearing all the gory details. Harding liked to reminisce about the Inquisition, and Dorian had good memories of it to share with her. Davrin was stand-offish at first, until the third time Dorian had been bowled over by a griffin who had obvious good taste in friends. Neve liked to argue; so did Dorian, so that worked out perfectly.
Bellara's brain was always whirring, sometimes almost audibly, but Dorian was surprisingly good at getting answers from the Nadas Dirthalen - he just had to put on his magister voice and address it like his father would have. Sometimes he wasn't sure if he missed him or hated him, or maybe it was both. And Rook was...well, Rook was Rook. He reminded him of the Inquisitor in some ways, so perhaps it took a certain type to save the world.
And Emmrich...well, yes. Emmrich. Emmrich was certainly present. Emmrich would come into the room and instead of leaving it again as quickly as he could, he gave Dorian a look and then he left. He didn't hurry. Sometimes Dorian even managed to make his sheepish excuses to the team and catch up to him before he got back to his room. Not that it mattered, because Emmrich waited for him, leaning on his desk with his arms crossed over his chest, as if Dorian were a naughty schoolchild and not a full-fledged member of Tevinter's Magisterium.
After the first couple of times, Dorian understood it was his job to lock the door, and so he locked the door. He understood that the choice of location that came after that was also his job, and so he made that choice quickly, in case Emmrich's patience ran out. One day, he folded his coat and he knelt on the stone plinth by the door, and Emmrich scoffed at the choice but he didn't make him move; he dragged down Dorian's trousers and he had him there, with one boot up on the stone as he thrust into him. It was good, it was really rather excellent despite the aching in his knees, but it still wasn't like he remembered.
He leaned against the post at the bottom of the staircase on another occasion, which was a good deal more awkward than he'd imagined it would be. Another time, he knelt on the stairs, which was actually a good deal simpler. Then he bent himself over Emmrich's desk and Emmrich fingered him with his gloves still on until Dorian couldn't keep his thighs from twitching. He pushed his cock into him and Dorian made a sound that likely ought to have embarrassed him, but he'd long since ceased to be embarrassed. He'd left his embarrassment twenty years ago in the Grand Necropolis.
"I remember once, in your office in the Necropolis, we--"
"No."
Dorian frowned. "Yes. I distinctly recall there--"
"No."
"Yes! We were--"
"Get out."
"Excuse me?"
Emmrich pointed to the door. "Please leave," he said. "Now."
Dorian couldn't help but stare. Emmrich's face was a picture and frankly not a pleasant one. And when Dorian didn't turn around and walk out of the room, perhaps with a little rearrangement of his clothing first, Emmrich made a rather terrible, ragged sound and headed for the stairs instead.
Dorian understood, of course. He knew it was his fault. All because of what had happened twenty years ago.
---
When Dorian was twenty-two years old, his father sent him to Nevarra.
It was supposedly because Dorian had expressed an interest in necromancy. He supposed he had, casually, in an attempt to stop his father pressing him to choose a specialism. Specialisms had seemed rather outdated and Dorian had blurted out the first thing that had sounded even vaguely interesting, given fire magic and earth magic and all those tedious elements just seemed so very dull. So he'd named the rarest thing he could think of that was still within the bounds of propriety, and two months later he'd found himself shipped off to learn from the best.
He arrived in the afternoon. That evening, there was a party - Dorian's father had come with him, likely so he could lecture him along the way like he always did, and the party was clearly for him; for Halward, not for Dorian. Nevarran nobles trying hard to curry favour with a magister from Tevinter was somehow hilarious to Dorian, and he put in an appearance in relative high humour. And that was where he first met Emmrich Volkarin.
He saw him from across the room. He saw him notice him from across the room, too, and he saw him react rather favourably. And then, curiously, he saw him tuck his obvious attraction away out of sight behind a polite smile. Dorian wanted very much to dig it out again, but he was whisked on again to meet people his father had paid.
"Professor Volkarin," Dorian said later, when they were finally introduced, and the two of them shook hands. He had a good, firm handshake, and he was tall. Dorian had to look up. Honestly, he didn't mind having to look up; it was actually quite a nice view up there.
"Lord Pavus," Emmrich replied. "Welcome to the Grand Necropolis."
He held onto Emmrich's hand for longer than actually necessary. For quite a lot longer, until Emmrich looked down at their hands and then raised a brow at Dorian. Dorian held on; Emmrich didn't try to make him let go. Indeed, when Dorian took a half step closer, Emmrich didn't step back.
"Oh, come now, really, professor," Dorian said. "Lord Pavus is my father."
"Technically the appellation does also to you, I believe," Emmrich replied.
"Do we need to get technical about it?" Dorian tilted his head. He smiled a charming smile. A very charming smile. A smile he knew from experience was really quite hard to resist, if you had any interest in men. "You could just call me Dorian and be done with it."
Emmrich smiled back at him. He seemed entirely unfazed by the entire encounter, and entirely at ease with Dorian's proximity, which frankly he found fascinating. Most men who weren't interested would find a way to extricate themselves. Most me who were interested would be at least a little flustered. The fact of the matter was that Dorian was attractive and he knew it very well. He was confident and self-assured, and he was always alert to the possibility of the next illicit assignation. But he was finding it difficult to tell if Emmrich Volkarin was interested in him or just amused. Or perhaps he'd been flirted with by far too many students already.
"Oh, I think I should call you Lord Pavus," Emmrich told him. Then Dorian's father came to join them, which further complicated Lord Pavus matters, and so Dorian slipped away to talk to...frankly, anyone else but his father. He wasn't particularly interested in what his father might have to say about him, because he'd heard it all before. He wasn't particularly interested in what people might say to his father, either, because it was generally simpering nonsense. So he ate a little and he drank a little, then he drank a little more, and he talked with some of the gathering's younger members. A couple of current students were in attendance, and a few more members of staff, as well as a variety of Nevarran nobles.
Dorian wasn't particularly interested in nobility, however. He introduced himself to one of the other staff members, a man whose name he'd never heard before - because who outside Nevarra had heard of anyone except Emmrich Volkarin? - but who was obviously flattered when he allowed him to believe he had. They made small talk and he reacted much more like Dorian expected: he was flustered but flattered by Dorian's attention. When Dorian leaned in a little closer and suggested they might leave together, he told him yes with only a moment's hesitation. Then they sneaked off together one after the other, not particularly surreptitious, but perhaps the man was so lacking in experience when it came to this kind of thing that he actually believed it was. Dorian certainly didn't.
In the end, however, it didn't amount to much more than a rather disappointing fumble in one of the darkened corridors outside the assembly hall where the party was concurrently occurring. The necropolis lights were green and not terribly flattering and his partner for said fumble seemed entirely more accustomed to his own pleasure than anybody else's, to the point where Dorian had to guide his hand around his cock and demonstrate how best to stroke him. He was better after that but still not particularly good. And frankly, the most thrilling thing that happened during the entire liaison was that Emmrich Volkarin exited the hall and turned his head toward them.
Dorian's partner didn't notice, but Dorian did. He winked. Emmrich laughed and shook his head. Then, as Emmrich walked away, Dorian had to ask himself: was he leaving just because he'd had enough, or had he noticed Dorian leaving? It was an intriguing possibility.
He closed his eyes. He rested his head back against the wall and he pushed his cock into his partner's hand.
It wasn't bad. But it was better when he imagined it was Emmrich Volkarin.
---
It was the next day when he was officially informed that Emmrich would be his teacher, though he supposed there hadn't really been much doubt. His father had wanted the best for his son, and evidently he was it. Halward Pavus always got what he wanted. Dorian knew that better than anyone.
There were three of them he would be teaching: Dorian, and the twin daughters of a Nevarran noble whose name Dorian had never encountered. Of course, he didn't make a habit of reading through the lists of other country's titled aristocracy; he had very little interest in the big names of his own country, let alone another's. But the twins were confusingly named Coraline and Caroline, and Dorian had no idea how he was meant to tell them apart. Of course, Dorian cared very little which of them was which, which didn't exactly help in his endeavours. He took to calling them C and C within approximately the first half hour, though that did earn him an exasperated frown from Emmrich. He probably thought it was rude; Dorian couldn't have claimed that it wasn't but as long as he said it with a smile, it turned out the twins didn't care.
They spent the first half the day in Emmrich's office, discussing theory, then the second half of the day in something not unlike a laboratory, putting that theory into practice. Dorian, to put it bluntly, had no idea what he was doing. He could barely even follow what seemed to be the basic terms, let alone the application of them, and Emmrich did not attempt to bring things down to Dorian's level. Dorian thought that was rather uncouth for an educator, and he told him so; Emmrich told him buying one's way into the Grand Necropolis was also quite uncouth, but that hadn't seemed to stop him. Which, by Dorian's estimation, was actually quite fair. That was precisely what had happened. There was no point in him denying it.
So, he floundered through the first day of teaching, and then he followed Emmrich back out of the lab. He followed him into his office, too, as C and C made their way away to study before dinner.
"Well, this is a little awkward, isn't it," Dorian said. "You know. Last night."
Dorian lingered by the side of Emmrich's desk, leaning up against it in what he intended to be a pseudo-suggestive manner. He was ordinarily very good at pseudo-suggestive, so he found the fact that he couldn't quite tell if he'd managed it or not to be surprisingly disconcerting.
"Not at all," Emmrich replied. He sat down at his desk in front of a book he'd left open on it earlier. "I'm sure Professor Olgren will be perfectly discreet. And, to be frank, your choice of pursuits in your private life is entirely your own affair."
"I was rather hoping it might be yours, too."
Emmrich sighed. He closed the book and he folded his hands directly on top of it. He looked up at Dorian. Dorian thought he would have looked even better looking up from his knees.
"I can't say I know how things are done in Tevinter, Lord Pavus," he said, "but here we have rules about that kind of thing."
"Oh, we have rules about it, too," Dorian told him. He perched on the edge of the desk, a good deal closer. "Do you always follow them?"
"Yes. Don't you?"
"Not particularly, no."
"Then you might be best advised to seek Professor Olgren." He arched his brows. "Apparently neither does he."
Dorian laughed at that, sudden and loud. He found he rather enjoyed Emmrich's catty side.
"I might just do that," he said, then he got back up from the desk again. "Good afternoon, professor." Then he left the room. Actually, that evening, he did consider going out to find Professor Olgren, but...well, some of the shine had worn off the idea.
The next day, it was the same thing: Dorian utterly failed to grasp either the theory or the practice of what their little class was currently meant to be learning. He'd been thrown out of so many schools for such a colourful variety of reasons that this lack of understanding didn't particularly perturb him, but by day five the repetition was starting to wear thin. Making his teacher roll his eyes at him and repeatedly reject his advances, however, was still a complete and utter delight.
On the sixth day, however, he had a rather different goal when teaching came to a close. When he followed Emmrich to his office and perched there on the edge of his desk, he yanked the book out from underneath Emmrich's hands. Emmrich let him do it; he watched as Dorian opened up the book at a random page and started reading it out loud. Before long, Dorian frowned, and his next sentence faded off into, "You know, I don't understand a word of this."
"That's extremely unfortunate. This is the standard text for this level."
"Who decided my level? Perhaps I need to be nudged down one or two."
Emmrich arched his eyebrows. He leaned forward on his elbows. "This is the only level of teaching I offer," he said. "I'm afraid we have nowhere lower to nudge you, except with a different teacher."
Dorian closed the book with a snap. He was about to suggest somewhere lower that Emmrich could nudge him when he winced and shook his head.
He hadn't come to Nevarra of his own accord; he'd come because his father had made him do it, because apparently having an idle son sleeping his way around Minrathous - which was the very antithesis of idle, if you asked Dorian - was an embarrassment to him. He didn't have any grand designs to make things of himself, and everything he currently possessed had come to him with the ease of wealth. But he was going to be here for a year, for an entire year, and the twins, who were four years younger than him, were significantly further on in their education. Their necromancy-specific education, that was, because Dorian did like to think his general education hadn't all been sex and drinking. But the point still stood.
He had the best necromancy tutor that the Grand Necropolis could give him. The best necromancy tutor that the Grand Necropolis could give him seemed to think he was something of a simpleton. Probably because his father had decided to frustrate him so thoroughly by pushing him in out of his depth that he would return home sooner, then perhaps he'd find himself a respectable specialism instead of raising the dead. So he sighed and he stood himself up from the desk.
"Can I borrow this?" he asked, instead of saying something lascivious, and he held up the book in one hand. "Believe it or not, I think I might actually need to study."
"I hope you will," Emmrich replied. "I would like to think highly of you."
"Meaning you don't think highly of me now?" Dorian clutched his hands to his chest dramatically, which didn't have quite the effect he'd hoped for while he was still holding the book in them. "You wound me, professor."
"Oh, I expect you're made of sterner stuff than that," Emmrich replied. "Read the first chapter. We can discuss it tomorrow." He sat back. He raised his brows. "Was there something else, Lord Pavus?"
Dorian felt the peculiar sensation of being dismissed. He frowned at it, then he shook his head.
"No," he said. "Not now, at least. I..." He scoffed at himself. "I suppose I have a book to read."
So he left the room with the book in his hands. He went to the room he'd been allocated, with the staff because those were larger than the students' rooms, and after dinner he did actually open the book and start reading. He read the whole first chapter, though he did sigh to himself in a thoroughly melodramatic fashion after every page.
He didn't understand it. But he was determined he was going to.
I would like to think highly of you was what Emmrich had told him.
Oddly, very oddly, Dorian realised he'd like that, too.
---
Dorian studied.
He wasn't the dunce that people sometimes took him for, and he did know how to read. He also knew how to ask questions, and he plagued Emmrich with them until he actually began to understand. Once he had the basic terms and basic theory, necromancy began to seem much more compatible with the more general magic he already knew. Slowly, the book began to make sense to him. His father hadn't won after all.
And actually, once Dorian had proved he wasn't just a pampered child with no aptitude for the subject, it turned out Emmrich was an excellent teacher. He was patient in his explanations. He rewarded curiosity with bizarre diversions from the syllabus into Mortalitasi esoterica that Dorian found completely intriguing. They spoke to spirits and commanded wisps. He even wrote his father a thank you note, which he was sure to find infuriating, but that was at least half the point.
So, Dorian studied. He found out he had an aptitude for necromancy that he'd honestly only previously invented, though Emmrich did seem to find his attitude toward the dead somewhat distasteful. Perhaps if he'd been brought up in Nevarra, he would have understood the reverence, and the relevance, and all those other things it must have been wonderful to have but that Dorian had never felt. But he studied. And he listened. He applied what he'd read and what he'd heard and he read other books, too. He sat in the library with C and C and discussed what they were reading. They sat in Emmrich's office and they argued in that peculiarly academic way he'd never had an interest in before. He hadn't felt so engaged in years. It was baffling and wonderful.
Of course, engagement did not actually dampen his attempts at flirtation. He enjoyed flirting, even when the reaction he got in return wasn't precisely what he'd wanted it to be. Besides, he had no doubt that if Emmrich had truly found his flirting unbearable, he would have made it clear; his disapproval of Dorian's lack of the respect for the dead was always abundantly clear, after all. But even then, as long as he wasn't rearranging bones into crude sexual innuendo or using a skull like a ventriloquist's dummy, he understood Emmrich would likely forgive him. Emmrich Volkarin was a good man, and he didn't hate him. Dorian hadn't met very many other men like that.
He supposed it was that belief, that Emmrich would have stopped him if he'd really wanted to, that led them where they went. It was toward the end of his third month in Nevarra, and the time had skipped by pleasantly if far too quickly for Dorian's liking. And, as usual, they were the last two in the room when the day was done; Dorian had followed Emmrich to his office to keep on pressing a point he couldn't quite understand and that Emmrich couldn't explain to him. They were both hilariously frustrated by it.
And, in the end, Dorian kissed him. Possibly out of frustration. Definitely out of desire. Emmrich took him firmly by his biceps and he eased him away, but the look on his face really didn't say he wanted to.
"That's enough for today," Emmrich told him.
"Enough of what, exactly?" Dorian replied.
Emmrich scoffed. "Enough teaching," he said. "Enough learning. Enough questions." He paused. He removed his hands from Dorian's arms and he gestured at him. "Enough of you, Lord Pavus. You're exhausting."
Dorian grinned. "I can think of a thing or two that would really exhaust you," he said, and Emmrich scoffed again.
"You prove my point quite remarkably," Emmrich said. "Go eat something. And read something. And sleep."
"Is that what you're going to do?"
"Yes, it is."
"I could join you."
"Not if I have anything to do with it."
So Dorian laughed and he left the room. Emmrich still hadn't told him to stop, at least not for more than a night.
He kissed him again four days later, in the midst of another argument. He did it again three days after that. Emmrich eased him away and he rubbed his mouth with his fingertips, but not like he wanted the feeling erased. Like he'd liked it. Maybe he had.
And it went on like that for more than a month, with Emmrich's quiet rejections without ever telling him to stop. Sometimes they had frustrating arguments at Emmrich's desk before and after. Sometimes Emmrich chuckled to himself, walked out and left him there. It didn't feel like Emmrich disliked him. It didn't feel like he lacked interest. It was confusing Dorian to say the least, and almost every night he went to bed and stroked himself with fantasies of the most accessible inaccessible man in Nevarra lodged quite firmly inside his head.
But then what happened happened, and just like that everything changed.
Dorian was no stranger to assassination, because Tevinter was no stranger to assassination. There had always been attempts on his father's life, as far back in time as he could remember. He'd been six years old when the first attempt had been made on his own life. So, frankly, he was not surprised when two men walking into the library turned out to be less Mortalitasi and more...well, hired killers. But they walked into the room and something seemed odd about them. Perhaps the way they walked. Perhaps it was their Tevinter accents. But Dorian's staff was resting against a bookcase several feet behind him, so he knew he was in trouble. Trouble he could possibly get out of, yes, because it was very far from the first time, but trouble nonetheless.
Dorian stood. One of the men was faster than expected; he clubbed Dorian to the ground before he could react at all. He felt blood on his neck, trickling into his collar. He could barely see for the stars in his eyes.
But then the library door opened again, and in walked Emmrich with twelve undead around him. The assassins fought them, but while the undead kept them occupied, Emmrich drained their lives right out of them from a more or less safe distance. He was terrifying. He was a master necromancer with two men's lives in his hands. By the time the Necropolis guards burst in, the men were already on the ground, and Emmrich strode across the room to him without a second glance at them. He pressed a handkerchief to the cut in Dorian's hair.
"A jealous lover?" Emmrich asked, and Dorian laughed until he winced. Emmrich smiled like he regretted his joke as he helped him back up to his feet. "Apologies, that was in poor taste," he said.
"It's actually more likely to be one of my father's political rivals," Dorian replied. "Though why they bother is beyond me. Even my father would say I'm more dangerous to him alive than dead."
"You're used to this, then?"
"I believe this is attempt number sixteen."
"That's...concerning."
Dorian shrugged. "That's Tevinter," he said.
Emmrich made an unintelligible noise, and he helped him toward the infirmary in silence. It was not an easy silence. Conversation might have helped Dorian's head to ache less, but he couldn't think of a single thing to say as they took a slow walk down the green-lit Necropolis corridors. They seemed longer than usual. He was sure if that was the pain or if the Necropolis had been rearranging itself again.
But then, by the infirmary door, immediately next to it, Emmrich stopped, and so Dorian stopped, too. Emmrich stepped closer and Dorian frowned up at him. Emmrich lifted one already bloody hand to the back of Dorian's neck and even gentle as he was, his fingertips against the cut there made him flinch. But Dorian didn't move away, and Emmrich didn't, either.
Emmrich kissed him. Suddenly. Slowly. Mostly closed-mouthed but not exactly chastely, and Dorian's entire body tingled with excitement, or maybe it was just the concussion. And when Emmrich pulled back, his cheeks were flushed and there was an expression on his face that said...well, it said he knew precisely what he was doing but he absolutely knew he shouldn't do it. Dorian didn't care. Emmrich had kissed him.
"You know, I glanced through the official charter," Dorian said, pseudo-casually. "I can't find a single rule that says teachers can't involve themselves with students, as long as they're both an appropriate age."
"Consider it a personal rule," Emmrich replied. "I really shouldn't be doing this." But he was still standing close. One hand was still at Dorian's nape and the other took a handful of Dorian's shirt just by his waist. That didn't exactly bolster his argument.
"Maybe you should," Dorian replied. "Honestly, what harm could it do?"
"Oh, a great deal of harm, I'm absolutely certain of it."
"You're telling me you've never had a quick tumble with one of your students?"
"No, I haven't. Never."
"I could be the first."
"That's hardly wise."
"Does it have to be wise?"
"Dorian."
"Yes?"
"No."
"Oh, come on. I'll still respect you in the morning."
Emmrich's mouth twisted. "I'm not entirely sure you respect me now," he said. Dorian chuckled; he supposed he understood his point. "Besides. If all you're offering is a quick tumble, I'm afraid I have no interest at all."
"I don't understand."
"Then let me be clear: I do not intend to get sticky hands satisfying your post-adolescent fantasies in an out-of-the-way corner after dark. I'm an adult, Dorian. I have adult desires."
"Do they include me?"
Emmrich sighed. "To my rather great shame, yes. It rather seems they do."
He removed his hands from Dorian's person. He took a step back. He straightened his back, and he nodded, as if he'd just made a decision.
"So, we will have dinner together. We will have a sensible conversation that does not end in an argument, followed by a stroll around the gardens. Then I will take you to my room."
"What then?"
"Sex, Dorian. We'll have sex. No tumbling. No fumbling. Just sex."
"And what about your rules?"
"Do you want me to change my mind?"
Dorian shook his head. He mimed locking his lips.
"Tomorrow, then."
As Emmrich ushered him in through the infirmary door, it felt like Dorian had won something. Like he'd made Emmrich betray his spotless morals or something of that type.
At that moment, he hadn't realised exactly what he was in for. All he could think, as he took a seat on the first starchy infirmary bed that he came to, was that Emmrich had called him by his name for the first time. It had sounded wonderful.
And when he got back to his room, he remembered Emmrich standing there, powerful and focused. He remembered Emmrich saving his life. Perhaps it shouldn't have been so arousing, but he couldn't help liking what he liked.
If he'd known all it would take was an assassination attempt, he thought he might have worked something out earlier.
---
The next day's teaching came and went in a strangely quiet blur. The twins probably thought Dorian had a hangover, or he'd lost a bet, or something worryingly close to either or both, given he was so unnaturally silent. He didn't tell them about the bungled attempt on his life but actually, his head was fine - he was just willing the time to pass more quickly.
That evening, they had dinner together in the Necropolis. Dorian had expected they'd go out to a restaurant, if there even were any within a hundred mile radius, but Emmrich took him to a small room filled with green light where a series of skeletons brought out their food. It was marginally creepy, though not exactly on a par with other things he'd seen there, and Emmrich actually did make entertaining dinner conversation. He talked more about his life and his interests than Dorian had known him to before. He encouraged Dorian to talk about himself, too. He seemed interested in what he had to say, and entirely failed to make fun of Dorian's feud with his father. He just smiled ruefully and said, "My parents died when I was quite young." Something about the look on his face tugged at the insides of Dorian's chest and he considered making a joke, or telling him he'd come here for dinner, not to share life stories. But actually, they kept on talking.
After dinner, they walked side by side in the gardens and Emmrich placed one hand at the small of Dorian's back to guide him at each turn they came to. It was a small gesture but it tied Dorian's stomach up in very unfamiliar knots. And by the steps that led up into the colonnade, Emmrich said his name and Dorian turned. He was two steps higher, though he supposed they were shallow ones, but Emmrich was still taller than him. He tilted up Dorian's chin with the tips of two fingers and he kissed him, slowly, just the way he had outside the infirmary. Dorian's face flushed hotly as Emmrich stepped back.
"What if someone had seen us?" Dorian asked. "We're right out in the open. Look!"
"And what if they had?" Emmrich replied, as if being spotted with him didn't matter at all, as if Dorian's reaction amused him, and the idea that it didn't have to matter confused Dorian entirely. It made him feel claustrophobic, not with Emmrich himself but more generally speaking, in his life, in his skin, in his choices. He hadn't expected this. Any of this. But before he could ask him to do it again, they moved on.
It wasn't a short walk back to Emmrich's room and they took their time. Emmrich pointed out features that might interest him, not like a teacher and his pupil but...like friends? Like lovers? Emmrich took his hand and led him over a narrow bridge and Dorian's heart beat wildly from it - from Emmrich's hand, not the cavernous drop. He didn't understand what was happening to him. A brief fumble in a classroom would have been so much more familiar.
And then, they came to Emmrich's room. It was a far cry from Minrathous, all eerie green candles and enough books that he could build a new chamber for the Necropolis out of them. Emmrich looked at Dorian for a long moment before he locked the door, then he led him through the study to the bedroom.
"Take off your clothes, please," Emmrich told him, polite even in that request. Dorian couldn't see a compelling reason not to, and so he complied with it.
Emmrich gestured at the bed. "Lie down," he said.
He did. He propped himself up on his elbows so he could watch as Emmrich undressed, too, which Emmrich didn't seem to mind. He didn't appear particularly self-conscious about it and Dorian had to wonder if that was just normal for Nevarra and he'd missed something fundamental about the general culture or if it was normal for Emmrich. Of course, once Emmrich was naked and making his way toward the bed, the question didn't precisely seem to matter anymore.
"Would I be correct in assuming that your average sexual encounter proceeds along the lines of your fumble with Professor Olgren?" Emmrich asked him.
"Anyone would think you didn't like him," Dorian replied. "Is he an ex of yours? Did he turn you down?" He smiled, hugely. "Are you jealous, Professor Volkarin?"
"Apologies for disappointing you, but it's none of the above," Emmrich told him. "I'm simply trying to ascertain if you're likely to finish within the first five minutes and leave me bitterly disappointed."
"I can't say I've ever been called a bitter disappointment," Dorian told him. "I'll try my best to keep up."
He did actually have to try his best, which came as a surprise. Emmrich seemed determined to enjoy every single part of him, which was really rather different from what Emmrich had correctly surmised was Dorian's usual variety of experience. There tended to be hands or mouths in semi-convenient, semi-private locations, and the occasional round of drunken penetration that may or may not have been regretted later. Sometimes he would find a partner who was willing to actually take off all their clothes, and/or willing to spend an entire night at it, but more often than not it was an hour at most and with most of their clothes still firmly on.
That night, however, he definitely was not drunk. He was definitely naked, because his clothes were strewn all over the floor - unlike Emmrich's, which were folded neatly on a chair by his desk. And it definitely lasted for longer than an hour, with Emmrich's hands and tongue and cock lingering in places until Dorian was almost certain that he couldn't take any more. Sex had always been quick before. Enjoyable, but hard and fast and sometimes furtive. A dirty secret. Emmrich didn't seem to think that there was anything wrong with this at all.
Then, afterwards, when Dorian was still aching on the bed in a state of sweaty, post-coital disarray, Emmrich wandered over to his desk at the far side of the room. Dorian watched him go from the bed.
"Why exactly did we do this?" Dorian asked him. "You don't even like me."
Emmrich didn't look at him. He also didn't appear to be reaching for his clothes; he did reach for a cloth and started to wipe himself down with it.
"Dorian, my dear, I think you're wonderful," Emmrich replied. And frankly, Dorian had no idea if he was being sarcastic or not, but it did make him feel a little odd inside. Warm. Fluttery. Pleased.
He wasn't sure what to make of that.
---
He was there for seven months, in the end.
Almost every day, because Emmrich did still have his research and his role within the Mourn Watch, there were lessons; Dorian found he was really rather good at them, and he enjoyed what he was learning. After lessons, sometimes the two of them also met again. It started slowly, only once or twice a week, but it quickly increased. They read together or they read to each other, and they argued over the meaning of certain passages. As time passed, they ate dinner together, sometimes breakfast together, and sometimes Dorian stayed the night, but honestly mostly he didn't. He liked to sleep in his own bed at night, though technically his own bed was back in Minrathous. On the rare occasions he stayed, he would wake up in the night and quietly wonder how he'd found himself in this situation, sleeping next to a man who was fifteen years his senior and, now he'd made his decision, didn't seem to care who or how old Dorian was. He only seemed to care that they enjoyed each other's company. He didn't seem to notice Dorian's unease, or maybe he thought it would pass given time.
However, Emmrich had a sabbatical expedition into the Necropolis planned, from which he would not be swayed, and so he left his teaching post for the next two months. One of his colleagues took over instead - Johanna Hezenkoss, who had apparently trained at the same time as Emmrich had. Dorian learned a few things he wasn't certain she was meant to teach him, but she didn't seem to have any of the general constraints that Emmrich had. To be completely honest, he found that he actually missed them. He'd enjoyed their arguments over ethics, and arguing ethics with a woman that had none was something of a fruitless endeavour.
During those two months, he gave serious thought to just leaving Nevarra. He'd learned more than enough to use necromancy in the field, should he ever find himself beset by thugs or else a roaming herd of deepstalkers, though one was infinitely more likely to be plaguing the streets of Minrathous than the other. He could have blamed his departure on Emmrich's expedition and saved face with his father, who had of course been the one to foot the bill. But in the end, he stayed. He told himself it was to watch the scandalised looks on C and C's faces every time Johanna had a new macabre suggestion, but he suspected something else.
And then, Emmrich came back. He came back several days early, actually, which seemed rather out of character for a man who was so very precise. Dorian felt ridiculous about how pleased he was to see him walking back out through the doors of the Necropolis, like a burst of sunlight in his chest, and Dorian had never exactly been a sunny kind of person. Still, later that evening, he went to Emmrich's room and he knocked on the door. He waited.
Neither of them actually uttered a great many words. Emmrich seemed just as pleased to see Dorian as Dorian was to see him, however, and went down on his knees once the door was closed. He slicked his fingers and pressed them into him while Dorian was in his mouth, still kneeling there with Dorian's fingers in his hair. And eventually, they made it to bed. They pulled off what remained of each other's clothes and Emmrich had him on his hands and knees, gripping his hips, until Dorian came without so much as a single digit laid upon him. He turned him over and toyed with Dorian's cock until he actually begged him to stop, and then begged him to start again, and Emmrich laughed breathlessly then kissed him until he was out of breath, too.
Emmrich told him about the things he'd seen on the expedition after that, as they lay side by side, waving his hands in the air almost like casting magic. Dorian didn't actually try to picture it all - he just watched Emmrich's hands, and listened to his voice, and tried to tell himself it wasn't strange that he enjoyed this, or that he liked being here. He'd slipped into Emmrich's room once or twice while he'd been gone, maybe once or twice more than once or twice. He'd borrowed books, because Emmrich had told him he could, and of course he'd had to bring them back when he was finished with them. It made sense that he'd sat at his desk and read some of the heavy ones, because why would he want to lug them about the Necropolis? Never mind that his room wasn't actually far away - they'd given him a staff room instead of one for students, like because of who his father was. And when he'd fallen asleep on Emmrich's bed, it hadn't been out of misplaced sentimentality. He'd just read for too long, so it was really only practical. Emmrich was his lover, but that didn't mean he was in love.
"I thought you might have gone back to Tevinter," Emmrich said, a little later, while they were still lying side by side in bed.
"And leave you here alone?" Dorian replied. "You'd be eaten alive by all the new students."
Emmrich frowned at him. Dorian frowned back at him.
"I am leaving, though," he said. "I do have to leave."
"Yes, I suppose you do."
"I do. We both know I can't stay in Nevarra."
"And I don't believe I asked you to."
"Are you saying you don't want me to?"
"I don't believe I said that, either."
Dorian left the bed. He started pulling on his clothes and then so did Emmrich, which Dorian knew didn't exactly bode well. He honestly wasn't even sure what he was doing this for, given how relieved he'd been to see Emmrich earlier that day. Perhaps that was why. Perhaps he was attempting to prove something to himself about the fact he didn't need him. He didn't need this relationship. He didn't even need the sex, though the sex was admittedly a lot of fun. He wasn't thinking about staying. He didn't want to stay. He wasn't going to miss this. Maker, he had to get out. The Necropolis was driving him crazy. It was like he couldn't breathe.
"Really, how could I stay in a place like this with someone like you?" he said. He heard himself saying it, like it was someone else.
Then Emmrich smiled at him, but it wasn't a pleasant smile. It was more of a gut-wrenching smile, though Dorian pushed that feeling away. He had a lot of practice with that.
"Yes," Emmrich said. "I suppose it does come down to that." He took a breath. He released it slowly. "Goodbye, Dorian," he said, then he paused, as if there was something else he intended to say, or at least something that his sense of etiquette and decorum said he should. But then he smiled tightly and he walked away, pulling his waistcoat on as he went. The length and speed of his strides said he wouldn't turn back, and he didn't expect to be followed.
And Dorian didn't follow, though part of him would have very much liked to. The issue was another part, a much larger part, told him that this was precisely how it had to end: no hope for the future, no promises to write. A clean break. Ugly, but clean.
It wasn't until he was back in Minrathous that he understood just how wrong he had been. For a long time, he couldn't help but compare every lover he took with Emmrich Volkarin. He missed the intimacy that they should have never had. Even his own necromancy reminded him of him.
Now here they were. Again.
---
When Emmrich went upstairs and left him there, Dorian seriously considered leaving.
He pulled his clothes back into place as best he could and he paced back and forth in front of Emmrich's desk. The room was familiar, now that he spent more than a few seconds looking at it. The books were familiar - he'd read several of them. The chair had come from Emmrich's room in the Necropolis. So had that tea set. Those candles. That skull - those multiple skulls, in fact. He was fairly sure he could have been led into that room at any point in the past twenty years and known who it belonged to. The only unusual thing was the sunlight through the upstairs windows: the Necropolis was always dark as night.
He gave serious consideration to just walking out of the door, except he ultimately knew he couldn't do that. Ultimately, he had some uncomfortable things to make up for. So he followed him upstairs instead.
Emmrich was standing at the top of the staircase, looking out into the Fade. He turned his head just for a second to glance back over his shoulder, then he looked away again.
"I thought I asked you to leave," he said.
"I was never very good at following instructions," Dorian replied.
Emmrich chuckled mirthlessly. "No, you never were," he said, almost wistfully. Then he turned and he sank to the floor in a completely uncharacteristic lack of proper etiquette. It surprised Dorian. He didn't think Emmrich could have changed that much in twenty years.
"You broke my heart, you know," Emmrich said. Almost casually. Almost like passing the time of day. If Dorian had been the one saying it, he would've made sure it was dramatic.
Dorian groaned. "I know," he replied. "I wish I hadn't. But my father would have killed me if I hadn't come home from Nevarra. I mean, he might actually have killed me. Or had me killed. Blood magic at the very least. I'm sure my body would have been just as unwilling to take direction if you'd put it to work in the Necropolis."
"I would have never!" Emmrich exclaimed.
"No, you would have buried me in the memorial gardens. Maybe kept my skull on a shelf. I'm sure I would have made a charming paperweight." He paused. Emmrich frowned at him. He was making light of death again, which Emmrich had never approved of. Some things absolutely did not change.
"I didn't mean what I said that day, you know," Dorian told him.
"Yes, you did," Emmrich replied. "I'm not a fool, Dorian. You were the son of a magister. The chances that you would choose to stay with me in Nevarra were exceedingly slim. I knew you would leave, and I understood the reasons why." He smiled wryly. "I would say you didn't have to put it so bluntly, but I suppose you did have to. For your own sake. It must have made it easier for you." He sighed. "It did not make it easier for me."
"Yes, well, I'm a different person now than I was then." He paused again. "Well, no. I'm exactly the same person. I've just...grown up, I suppose?" He smiled awkwardly. "I'm older now than you were then. Horrifying, isn't it."
Emmrich chuckled. Dorian sat down next to him.
"You know, I really can't leave Tevinter," Dorian said. "At least not on a permanent basis. Too much to do. And I don't expect you'll ever really leave Nevarra."
Emmrich frowned. "No," he said. "I don't suppose I will."
"I'd still like to try again, though. If you'll have me. Such as I am." He reached out. He put one hand on the back of Emmrich's. "Older and wiser. Well, not that much wiser, really, but definitely older."
"The grey does suit you."
"It suits you, too, as a matter of fact."
He turned. He brought one hand up to Emmrich's hair, then to his cheek, then to his jaw.
"You said I broke your heart," he said.
"You did," Emmrich replied, though he was smiling faintly. "Quite irreparably, actually. Utterly ruined."
Dorian's mouth twisted.
"I think I might have broken my own, too," he said. It actually wasn't as dramatic as he'd imagined, somehow. "It's oddly like I dropped it on the floor and a bit chipped off. It's never been the same." He nudged Emmrich with his elbow. "Don't worry, I do know I deserved it."
"Yes, I think we can agree on that," Emmrich confirmed. But when Dorian slipped his hand to Emmrich's knee, he didn't stop him. He rested one hand over the top of it instead.
It wouldn't be easy, Dorian thought. But the best things never were.
---
It was another six months until the question of the elven gods was finally resolved. Another month after that, Emmrich moved out of the Lighthouse. And a month after that, Dorian stepped through the eluvian into the Grand Necropolis.
"Myrna," Dorian said, when he strode into the hall. "Vorgoth."
"DORIAN PAVUS."
"Well, that's just as disconcerting as it ever was."
"YOU SEEK EMMRICH VOLKARIN."
"Well, yes. Yes, I do."
"He's exactly where you think he is, Dorian," Myrna told him, and Vorgoth stretched out one extremely odd arm to point in the direction of Emmrich's rooms.
"Er, thank you, Vorgoth?" Dorian said. "Myrna, lovely to see you." Then he made his way away at an entirely measured pace that definitely did not resemble the kind of ludicrous race-walking they sometimes did in Val Royeaux.
He did know where to look for Emmrich, though, so Myrna was right and Vorgoth's pointing wasn't wrong. He made his way to Emmrich's room and he knocked on the door. Approximately three seconds later, Emmrich threw the door open.
"Darling, you made it!" Emmrich said.
"If I had a stomach, I would vomit," said Hezenkoss's skull, from across the room.
"I missed you, too, Johanna," Dorian replied. But he leaned up and kissed Emmrich, so his sarcasm was perhaps a little lost.
Twenty years ago, he made a terrible mistake.
He didn't plan on doing that again.