#Lythial Mahariel

[firegirl156]

ZevWarden Week 2017

Lythial Mahariel x Zevran Arainai Rating M (Cuz it’s Zev) For ZevWarden week

Enjoy!

Lythial Mahariel and Zevran Arainai had a start in this world, more alike than any, even each other, would realize. Both of their father’s died before they were born, leaving their heartbroken mothers to carry them alone. Lythial’s mother bore her into the world but left her, the pain of the heart over the love of a mother. Zevran’s died moments after his birth, not strong enough to hold onto life. Both small, cold, and alone. Fragile lives, thrown into fate.

Lythial found a parent’s love in Ashalle, a family in her clan, but ever still grew the hole of wanting to know where she came from. A blade was slipped into her hand when she reached the tender age of 6, like all children. She was to be trained, to be warrior or hunter was a journey she’d have to make on her own. The metal was cool in her hand, the blade shined in the sun, and something about it called to her. She took to it well, and was earning her Vallaslin at just 16 winters.

Zevran had no parent, nor anyone he’d consider family. Just a group of other boys just like him who he became close to for only survival. At 7 he was bought, like nothing more than chattel, for the Crows. There he was taught that he would either, fight and grow strong to live, or fail and die. Such things were pounded into him and he became good at what he did. First as necessity, and later because he had grown a taste for it. And in return he found something he never thought he would.

For all of Lythial’s skill in combat for both fighting, and for hunting, she’s nearly matched every step of the way by another boy her age. Tamlen is active and outgoing on the sparring fields. Always toe-to-toe with her, especially when dueling each other. Yet she noted that he was more reserved with others, preferring to wander the forest than spend time in camp. They were drawn together and a friendship was formed. And over time, even more.

Taliesen had formed a stronger and closer bond with Zevran than anyone before had. And when Rinna had been added to their group he was sure he’d found all he needed in the world. They melded seamlessly, easily playing off each other’s strengths and weaknesses, and became the best at what they did. And in time the three became romantically entangled.  

It’s horrifying how a normal day can turn from a simple scouting mission, to your entire world crashing down. One minute you’re standing beside the man you love, and the next minute you’re waking up in a world where he’s gone. And darker still, you find you’re dying too. And in that moment, a choice must be made. Fight forever for a cause you do not care for, for people who would rather you dead, or waste away slowly. The choice wasn’t a choice, so with a heavy heart she departed her clan.

He loved Rinna, Maker he did, and he loved Taliesen as well. The mere thought of a betrayal burned in his chest like a hot coal. Painful, and deadly. But Taliesen insisted she’d betrayed them, what else was he supposed to do. He looked her in the eyes, claimed not to love her, and let Taliesen kill her. But nothing stopped the ache, even as they returned home. He wallowed in his regret, he should never have decided so fast, he should have listened. He ignored Taliesen’s attempts to draw him out of his sorrow. One that drove him deeper when he found it had been a set up. A simple way to get rid of Rinna for power, and to remind Zevran that they didn’t care for him, that he was simply a tool at their disposal. He broke. A mission came about, 2 Grey Wardens. He wouldn’t survive, there was no way. He made his bid, took the mission, and sailed to his death.

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Lythial saw the trap long before it could be sprung. It was rather sloppy work that made her more curious than cautious, and made it twice as easy to take down the attackers thrown at her. She, Alistair, Morrigan and Leliana had the fight over in a few short minutes. However she was surprised when the man who started the attack rolled over, groaning in the dirt. He was an assassin, utterly charming and honest. Despite his attempt at murder, she couldn’t find it in her to fault him. It was a job he’d been forced into. He fought or he died. Now he was offering to help her in return for his life. Alistair advised against it but in the end she couldn’t turn the man away. Thus she’d found another companion, one not too hard on the eyes if she’d admit it.

Zevran had expected to die. It was why he’d taken the job, why he’d made the trap so obvious. Logic dictated that if you attack and intend to murder two Grey Wardens, you die, it was simple really. So when he regained consciousness and found himself staring up into the face of one of the most beautiful women he’d had the pleasure of seeing, he wasn’t quite sure how to take it. But something in him told him this was a second chance, the ability for a second life. To do with what he wasn’t sure yet, but deep down he really wanted to live, so he made a deal, and the woman agreed.

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You could ask both Zevran and Lythial what exactly drew them together and neither could claim one specific event in general that lead them to sleep together the first time, or the many times after. They simply saw something desirable in each other. It grew more noticeable, until neither could ignore it anymore. Both reacted differently. While aware that they meant something to each other, neither knew how to completely handle it. Lythial was still torn open from the loss of Tamlen, and Zevran struggled to come to terms with what it all meant.

Lythial found both pain and closure one night. It was late and she burst awake after a vivid dream of the Archdemon. Moments later Darkspawn set upon the camp. The horde fended off easily by her Companions, but one had held back, and as Lythial approached it, her blood became ice in her veins. This was no ordinary Darkspawn; it was Tamlen, her Tamlen, now corrupted by the taint inside him, far too gone to save. He begged her to kill him, told her he didn’t want to hurt her. His final words were of love, before she plunged her dagger into his chest. The grief tore through her and she fled to her tent. She didn’t sleep that night, but she found closure. Tamlen was gone, he was not coming back. She had to move on to where she had been lead to move on to. And when she stepped out to see Zevran sitting by the campfire, looking at her tent nervously, she knew there was a reason things had played out the way they had when she met the assassin.

Zevran had struggled the entire time, between life and death. Rinna’s face staring at him in the campfire’s flames, the only time guilt had ever stuck with him. Thoughts of Taliesen were no better. He’d left him without a word. Which was why, when they ran into him and a few lower end members in an alley, and he offered to take him back, both to the Crows and more, Zevran was shook for a moment. He considered the offer for a moment. But then he looked at Lythial, a woman he’d sworn to follow, and had developed feelings far beyond simple loyalty, he knew he couldn’t kill her. The mere thought made him ill. He’d fallen, fallen hard for his Warden, and not the entire of the Antivan Crows could tear her away from him. So he helped strike Taliesen down to defend her, and mourned the man’s death.

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Acceptances of love came and were exchanged. The two did not trade proper vows before the Maker, or before the Elven Gods, but between themselves in the privacy of their own quarters the night before the world could end. There were the usual admittances, vows of eternal love and loyalty, to honor and respect and never abandon each other until death. But there were others exchanged as well. When Zevran took her hand in his, his calloused hands gentle but firm as he held her own scarred ones, telling her that he’d follow her to the Black City if that’s what was needed to stay by her side. Or when Lythial stared him straight in the eyes and swore to every divine being there was that he was the most important thing in her life and she would always put him first in any situation that was needed. For he meant far more to her than Warden vows ever could. And that night they lay together, curled up close to each other, desperate to not think of what the next day would bring for them.

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The Tale of the Hero of Fereldan would be told for Ages to come. The story about how a Dalish elf would rise to rebuild the Warden order of Fereldan after they were tragically slaughtered at Ostagar and make them powerful enough to fight back the horde of Darkspawn and how she would slay the Archdemon, ending the 5th Blight. But little could be told of what happened after. Of how she took the troops she’d acquired and returned to Vigil's Keep, their new base of operations. How she was promoted to Commander of the Grey and given the rank Warden-Commander.  How she saw what friends she could off with a heavy heart. Of the crushing loneliness being there put her through. Alistair was on the throne at Anora’s side, where she hoped the two of them would work well in guiding Fereldan together.

Zevran stayed the longest, not wanting to leave his Warden, but they both knew it could not last. He had business in Antiva, the revenge business to be precise, and she supported what he felt he should do. She only wished she could go with him. But he knew she was needed there. The structure of the Wardens was too strenuous without her there. So early one cold morning she gave him a long good-bye at the gates, and watched as he rode away with a heavy heart. The two exchanged letters as often as they both could spare. Of course many were private letters, meant for bedchambers late at night, others were romantic letters where the words on the page were spilled directly from the heart, and some even were simple boring letters detailing the basic comings and goings of their everyday. Despite how naughty or mundane each letter was, they both cherished every scrap of parchment. And it made the distance a little easier to bare.

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Lythial was a Dalish Elf; that had not changed in the time spent away from her clan. She would always long for freedom and adventure. The exact opposite that the stone walls the Keep gave her. Even the missions she occasionally lead were barely enough for her to stretch her legs. But she bore with it, for the sake of understanding that the Wardens needed a strong structure again. 2 years of backbreaking hard work finally paid off as well. There was enough. Enough manpower, enough people with power, plenty of people who knew what they were doing. She penned her final orders after retiring early one evening and snuck out in the dead of night, disappearing without a trace. This caused a panic throughout most of Fereldan, and she had to chop her hair fairly short and fluffed it out around her ears to escape most notice until she could find a ship to take her to Antiva. She found she hated sailing, but she never felt giddier than knowing she was on her way back to Zevran.

Of course the problem with not telling your assassin lover that you were coming to them meant you had to search for him yourself. This was a chore until you happened past a section of road with the unmistakable small of leather being made and handled. The memory of him speaking about the leather makers and the smell that surrounded him as a boy struck her. Zev wasn’t necessarily a sentimental man, at least he wouldn’t admit it, but she’d seen plenty of times where that came out in him. So she narrowed her search to anywhere the smell of leather could be found, and after nearly a day of searching the area, and far too many greased palms, she was pointed to a small hut just within the search range.

Never one for a standard entrance, she opted to pick the lock instead of just knocking. The hut truly was small, an old bed in the corner, a medium table took up a good corner of the room and papers were strewn across it. A small cooking area with a dingy cauldron over it was the only other thing of not in the room. Not much, but she knew Zev had been with far less. The sudden body behind her and the knife gracefully pressed to her throat made her joltingly remember that her lover was indeed an assassin, an assassin who was being hunted, and a random cloaked figure entering his home was not a good thing.

Zevran had been interrupted by many different things in his life, and dealt with many strange and dangerous intruders. But a simple cloaked figure picking its way into his home and just taking in the scenery had him startled. Usually other assassins got straight to the killing, which he preferred. The only thing he could think about this person was perhaps that they were a thief, just happening upon his home, instead of an assassin. They did not seem to be aware of his presence in the very least. So he did the most sensible thing, he drew one of his knives and grabbed the figure, pressing the blade to their throat.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded of the figure, his voice deep and dark, intimidation leeched into every word. The figure shivered slightly under his touch, but he could not fault them for that, his voice was incredibly sexy.

Just hearing Zev’s voice after so long was having an effect on her. Lythial considered for a moment if that was sad or just a side-effect of love, but the blade being pushed slightly more against her throat broke her line of thought. She leaned her body back against his and cocked her head, letting her hair fall back slightly to reveal part of her face. “Well I was here to meet a lover of mine, but I can’t seem to find him,” she teased.

Zevran recognized the body against his nearly instantly. He’d made sure long before he’d departed her to commit it to memory.  And when her head moved to reveal part of her face he quickly dropped the knife and stepped back, barely daring to believe what he was seeing. Even as she turned to face him, pushing her hair from her face and letting her cloak drop. All he could do was stare unbelievingly. Certainly he had fallen asleep and was merely dreaming of his love. It had happened so often. She stepped forward though, and pressed her hand to his cheek. A calloused and scarred hand, yet so small, and so warm, and he jolted. She was real and solid and there, right there before him. He caught her arm and pulled her to him, wrapping his arm around her so tight he wasn’t sure he’d ever let go.

Lythial was slightly startled when he’d pulled her against him, but the moment she felt his arms around her she melted against him, wrapping her own arms around him just as tightly. “Oh ma’vhenan, ma’arlath, I have missed you so,” she told him, her voice a shaky whisper. She was afraid he didn’t hear her, but he tipped her head up to look at him and she knew he did.

“And I have missed you my love, more and more every day since we have departed from each other.” His voice couldn’t arise from a whisper either, as if they were both afraid any noise too loud would shatter the moment and they’d be countries apart again. The mere thought made Zevran hold her tighter. But she simply smiled lightly and leaned forward, kissing him sweetly. The hand holding her chin curled around to cradle her cheek as he deepened the kiss. She dropped her pack off her back and threw an arm around his neck, tangling her hand in his hair. He stepped back, unbalancing them, and sending them falling onto the bed.

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“It is still hard to believe you are here. How did you get away from your duties?” he finally asked her later, after their heated reunion and the making of a small meal. She shifted slightly and took a long bite of her food before answering, making him raise an eyebrow in confusion. She sighed and looked at him finally.

“I didn’t necessarily just get away from my duties. More like I abandoned my duties.” Both eyebrows shot up at her admittance and he looked at her in surprise for a silent moment before the hut erupted into laughter. Lythial now raised an eyebrow in confusion at Zevran.

“It seems we are quite a pair my love. I leave the Crows, notorious for no one leaving them alive. And you leave the Wardens; a group said that no one can truly leave. It seems we were meant to defy odds,” he explains to her once he had stopped laughing, and she starts to laugh at his explanation.

“I do suppose you are right. I would say that makes us a destined pair,” she agreed.

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For the next 2 and a half years Lythial helped Zevran take down the Crows. And if Zev was unstoppable in taking them out before, his new partner made him invincible. They were a duo feared by the Crows, no matter who was sent for them, they were always found dead. And Lythial was content for a time.

A nightmare was what shattered her fragile peace. One of her, so young but stricken mad by the voice that came for every Warden. The thought of her pain at having to leave Zevran so she could die. The thought of the pain he’d feel at the loss of her. A life she wanted to live so much, torn away and wasted. She bolted out of bed and Zevran nearly fell out after her, startled and alert. But when he saw her across the room holding her head he frowned in concern and went to her. After gentle prying she finally opened up to him about the nightmare, about what would happen to her no matter what she did. He didn’t know what to say, or do, so he pulled her close instead, knowing no other way to comfort her.

A few days later she came to him with a proposal. She was going to find a cure for the Calling. It had happened before; a Warden named Fiona had suddenly been cured, though no one understood how. There were not a lot of leads to follow, but there were some, and she was determined to follow them. She explained how she would go West, investigating The Free Marches, which was full of varied lore and mystery. Through Nevarra, where all forms of different magic and mystery were held. And finally to The Anderfels, where the Wardens were started. Wardens kept so many secrets she wouldn’t be surprised if there was something hidden away there. If she couldn’t find anything that way, she would find a way to find more. She’d pick Orlais clean, command her way through Tevinter. She would find a way.

“The only thing is… this is a long journey Zev. I don’t know… I don’t know when I’d be back,” she admitted reluctantly, her voice sad, she couldn’t meet his eyes. He smiled lightly and tilted her head just enough to look in his eyes.

“My love, the night before we fought the Archdemon, what did I tell you?” he asked her, his voice gentle. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion before suddenly shooting up, her eyes widening. “I told you I would follow you into the Black City itself if I had to, to stay with you. And I meant it.”

“But the Crows-?”

“The Crows will be here when we return. You are far more important than the Crows,” he scoffed, a teasing smirk on his face. She beamed and threw her arms around him. “I know, I know, I am the best.”

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They were followed to the Free Marches by a group of pursuing Crows. Stubborn asses for sure. Lythial sent word to her Clan, who had travelled to Kirkwall, to ask to help Zevran. He promised to distract and hold them there until she could get the research she needed to do in Starkhaven done. This stop ended up with him running into none other than the Champion of Kirkwall herself, along with Isabela. He stuck around long enough to help with the mounting situation in the city, before hurrying to meet Lythial in Tantervale.

They both shared excited stories about their adventures while apart. Lythial had found a few scattered notes that she thought could help, buried in old Chantry archives. Zevran told her of the Champion, the violent explosion of the chantry there, and the mad Knight-Commander who turned into an odd form of Lyrium. Both agreed that things had become far too crazy and quickly escaped to Nevarra to avoid notice.

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They had stopped in a small town near the center of the country for a few days. Rented a small hut to stay in so they could use it as a base of operations. Lythial had decided to trek to the next town over for supplies and information while Zevran had stayed behind to plot out their next course. No one in the town had bothered them, so when there was a knock at the door, he was set on edge. He quickly stashed their papers and hid the satchel away under a loose floorboard before opening the door. Finding Leliana on the other side was certainly the last thing he’d expected.

“Ah Zevran, I’m happy my reports were correct about where to find you,” she nodded as she stepped in without an invitation. He was put on edge instantly. This… was a different Leliana, not as much as he felt she could be, but she was. He was very glad Lythial had taken all her things that morning, and more so that it would be late before she returned.

“It is nice to see you as well Leliana, though a surprise. What are you doing here?”

She turned to face him and examining him with a scrutinizing look. He gave her a moment to get whatever she was doing out of her system, before speaking up.

“I do not deny that I am handsome Leliana, but if I remember correctly you do not wish to have anything to do with me. So, why are you staring at me? Change your mind?”

She dropped her gaze then and sat in one of the chairs in the room, sighing deeply. “I will cut straight to the point. I know you know what happened to Kirkwall.  A few eyewitnesses say you were there,” she started, looking at him again, this time without the look. He frowned but sat across from her.

“Yes, I ran into the Champion there while dealing with a pack of Crows. I stayed because she seemed a good woman and needed all the help she could get. Why? Upset I fought on behalf of the Mages?” he replied easily, if not confused.

She gave him a look. “That is not it. I’m sure you heard that after everything happened, the Mages voted to dissolve the Circles, and they and the Templars are at War.”

“Yes I have heard things about that, quite bold of the Mages to be honest,” Zevran nodded. Morrigan would be pleased, he knew that much, and Lythial had seemed quite happy about it as well.

“Yes well, the fighting is already so violent. People have been hurt, lives disrupted and ruined. Fereldan’s still reeling from the Blight not even a decade past and now this has happened,” Leliana said with a worried frown tugging at her lips. Despite how cold she seemed when she arrived, there was a touch of the old Leliana in her words now.

“Yes, that is unfortunate. But I do not see exactly what that has to do with me?” Zevran asked, finally getting to the point. This was already putting him on edge and while he believed Lythial would take her time, he could not be certain.

She leveled him with that look again and asked in a straight tone, “Lythial has been missing from the Wardens ranks the past 5 years. We, as in her companions, have helped keep her so while she was on the run. I misplaced a set of information here; Alistair missed a word when reporting there. We actually lost her after she entered Antiva, but we both know she was heading for you.”

“A few questions, why would you help her run, and what exactly are you here for?” he cut in, his voice dropping suspiciously. There was silence between them for a moment.

“We both know why we helped Zevran. We traveled with her too. We knew how much she didn’t want to be there. She became a Warden out of necessity, of survival, but she never wanted what was thrusted upon her. So when she ran, we felt the only thing we could do in return for what she’d done for us, was help.” The look on her face was solemn, but genuine.

Zevran could, however, sense some guilt in her tone. “But?”

“But we need her help. Everyone respects her; everyone will listen to her, or at least hear her out. The Mage-Templar war must end Zevran. Divine Justinia is working on a way to help fix things, or at least start to make them better. But we need someone at the front who the people trust and will give a chance. She is the best person for it,” Leliana sounded like she believed in this, like she truly thought it would work. But Zevran narrowed his eyes.

“You want to drag her back in there, to deal with everyone else’s mess again. Straight into the thick of it. Only this time she has even less of a reason to care for the problem. She nearly died after the Archdemon!” His yells had to have echoed out of the cabin, but Zevran couldn’t care at that moment. Leliana’s face was set in a scowl and she seemed to be refusing to look at him now.

“Look, I just want to know if you have seen her. I have lost track of her and you are the best person to ask!” she snapped at him finally. They shared glares for a long moment before Zevran sighed and leaned back.

“I have not seen my love for several months now. We were travelling together but she split off from me, following a lead for the cure for the Calling. I believe she was heading for Orlais if you would like to find her there,” he informed her finally.

She frowned but nodded finally. “I suspected as much, still I had hope. Thank you anyway Zevran, despite the circumstances it was… nice to see you again,” she told him as she slowly stood from her seat and started for the door.

“Leaving already?” he asked, turning to face her.  She turned back to him, face already set in a neutral stance once more.

“I cannot lose a moment of time to find her. Every moment I waste is another moment she gets farther, and another innocent caught in this madness. I wish you well Zevran,” she replied before hurrying from the hut.

Zevran narrowed his eyes at her retreating back and slowly rose from his seat to close the door. Leliana was no fool. It was not in her nature to believe things so readily. He was a talented liar to be sure, but she was one to see through facades. The answer came to him immediately. She would track him. It was an obvious move in times like these. You tail your informant to make sure they are being truthful. He had to move fast if he was going to keep Lythial from Leliana’s clutches. He retrieved his satchel and took a clean sheet of parchment from it. He jotted down a note in code for her, disguised as a note to the owner of the hut and then quickly slipped out of the hut, making sure to extinguish all the lights inside. Then he took off for their next meeting place.

Lythial returned to the hut late in the evening, night almost upon her. Her feet were sore and her back aching, but she was satisfied from what she’d gathered. A few scraps of promising information and a sack full of provisions. But her heart fell as she caught sight of the hut in the distance. Despite the dark there was no spark of light from anywhere in it. So much for a nice night. She stowed the food and pulled her cloak around her like a burglar’s cowl, slinking along in the shadows before coming to the door. She picked the lock and moved inside, making sure to give the place a good upset, upheaving the bed, and clattering the few furnishings around as she checked over Zev’s note. With a destination set she slipped back out and headed away as fast as she could.

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It was almost a 2 week trek north to a small town that fell just before the border with the Tevinter imperium. They’d chosen the spot out of sheer strategic position. No one after them would dare push into Tevinter territory, or even near it, without careful consideration. The town itself was little more than a tavern inn, which was all the better. Lythial slipped in and took a seat at the far end of the bar, cloaked in shadow. After attending to his preferred patrons the bartender finally made his way to her.

“What’ll you have sweetheart?” he asked, his tone gruff and full of distaste.

She looked up at him with a glare and replied in an icy tone. “Give me an ale. And if you refer to me as sweetheart again it’ll be the last drink you serve.”

He didn’t look quite sure if he believed her but he made his way away quite quickly, returning quick enough with the drink and not staying for another chat.

She sipped the foul drink slow enough. She’d tasted Conscription concoctions less foul than this, but a drink was a drink. Suddenly another glass was slid down to her, she caught it with reflexes honed from years of work without a thought and looked up at the bartender in confusion.

“Fella ordered it for you, said you looked like a woman with better tastes and said to tell you that if you wanted something even better to join him in room 3,” the man responded without even looking up.

She sniffed the drink and the scent was far better than the piss ale. It was a wine, definitely Tevinter in origin, as decent a year as one was to get out here she’d imagine. She held back a chuckle imagining how much was spent on it. She settled in and sipped it appreciatively, savoring it as it should be. Once it was gone, and how sad a moment it was, she left the payment for the ale on the counter and headed up to the room, a dagger drawn in her sleeve. She tried the door handle and it was open. With a breath she stepped in.

Only to let it fly out immediately and the knife fall to the ground. A great many things she expected to see when she opened the door, but that wasn’t it. Zev was as naked as she expected him to be for sure. But instead of laid out in some sexy pose waiting for her, he was sprawled across the bed completely asleep. She barely contained the laugh that wanted to escape her and instead quickly hurried into the room and shut the door, locking it. She hadn’t thought she’d taken that long, but considering how tired she felt, she should have known better. She supposed the happy reunion would have to wait and she set down her pack beside his. She stripped down to her underclothes and grabbed the tossed aside blanket. She wormed her way in to a comfortable position beside him and covered them with the blanket.

“Goodnight love,” she whispered to him before kissing his cheek and blowing out the candle.

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Sunlight escaping through a hole found in the moth-eaten curtains found its way straight into Zevran’s eyes and he peeked one open to glare distastefully at it. Was a comfortable single night’s sleep too much to ask he wondered to himself before turning over to escape it. Only to find himself running into another body. He nearly jumped out of his skin before registering just who it was beside him.

Lythial was curled up like a cat at his side, still deep in sleep and undisturbed by his movements. A small smile turned up the edges of her mouth. She looked completely at ease at his side as well. Admittedly he appreciated mornings he woke before her. When she slept she was the most at ease. Though as of late with him was a close second. He pulled up the blanket and tucked it back around her. He was rather disappointed at himself though. Not only had he fell asleep waiting to surprise her, she’d waltzed in and crawled in bed with him. As a hunted man it was nearly inexcusable, but as the man of her heart, it was the highest honor. He knew her presence so well; he could sleep well knowing it was her.

“What are you thinking about?” her voice, thick and hushed from sleep, inquired, breaking the silence of the morning. He looked down at her and smiled lightly, running a hand over her knotted hair to try and tame it down some.

“Nothing of great import my love. Just about how beautiful you are.”

She let out an ugly scoff and arched an eyebrow. “You’re a good liar vhenan, but even a good lie has to make sense in the situation.”

“Mi amor, I speak with complete honesty. You are always beautiful to me,” he insisted, covering his heart with his hand. She simply chuckled lightly in disbelief and wrapped her arms around him to cuddle closer.

“You fell asleep on me last night,” she said, changing the subject to the previous night’s transgressions. He wrapped an arm around her and looked at her in distress.

“I know, and it was very shameful of me! I had intended to treat you to a night of pleasures to make up for the many we missed while apart.”

She chuckled and looked up at him with half-lidded eyes. “I’m sure we can remedy that. And then you can tell me about what kept us separated over breakfast.”

“That sounds like a very good idea.”

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Zevran finished stacking the last few crates in that days order and wiped the sweat from his brow. He stepped back and recounted them before nodding. Everything was ready for the next day’s shipments. He turned and headed back to the shed to put his things away.

“Messere Sabrae, we’ve finished loading the last of the goods onto the carts and the numbers have all been counted,” Cyrhel reported from behind him. He set the tools down on the shelf and turned to him.

“And the animals returned to their pens for the night?”

“Athel just returned with them and Taren readied the pens for them for the night,” he reported with a nod. Zevran smiled and nodded at the young man.

“Make sure Sorvin finished his tasks and then you can all head home. And remind everyone that I will need them before dawn tomorrow if we are to get all this to the Market on time.”

“If we live near Hasmal, why are we travelling all the way to Starkhaven when Tantervale is closer?” Cyrhel asked with confusion. Zevran noted that the boy seemed to be forcing the memory of the map in his head.

“Because Tantervale is a stricter city and has little love for elves. They would try to have arrested for something and none of us can afford that. So we make a little extra effort to make it to a fairer city,” he explained patiently as he lead them from the shed and locked it up securely.

“I had hoped once we made it from Tevinter we would be treated batter,” the boy said disheartened. Zevran frowned and patted the boy on the shoulder.

“We are not as well treated as we should be. But slowly we are making our mark upon the world. Look at the Hero of Fereldan and the Inquisitor. Both are elves who started at the bottom and are now known as some of the most well-known and influential Elves of the Age,” he urged him, fighting a small smile.

“But the Hero of Fereldan went missing. And there are a lot of arguments around the inquisitor,” Cyrhel argued back.

“The Hero of Fereldan went off to find a cure for the Blight they say. And there will always be arguments about those in power. But that is for the politicians to worry about. Here we work and labor together and as long as we know friend and foe we are safe enough,” he assured him as they reached the barn where the other boys were waiting.

“Alright lads get going before your families come to call with worry. You have dinners to eat and beds to get to early. It will be a long day for all of us in the morning,” Zevran instructed him as he waved them all out.

“Will Messere Lythial be joining us tomorrow?” Sorvin asked with a horribly hidden smirk. Zevran narrowed his eyes at the young man, but it was Athel who spoke up first.

“That’s none of your business. And you shouldn’t refer to her by her name. The proper way is last names,” he huffed. Sorvin scowled but looked away.

“Lythial is still supposed to stay home for a few more weeks until she’s recovered from birth. Now get going, and watch out for each other on the way home,” Zevran ordered them in a final authority tone and they all hurried off towards their own homes. He nodded in satisfaction and went to wash up before finally heading inside his home.

“Papa!” was what greeted him straight away and a small body was flung into his legs. He looked down with an amused smile as she ginned up at him, her arms wrapped securely around his leg.

“Now Rinna, I know that smile well enough. What did you do today?” he asked as he leaned down and scooped her up in his arms, suppressing a laugh of his own at her guilty giggles.

“Nothin Papa,” she insisted in a tone that would have convinced him had he not known her.

“Your daughter swiped half a pan of cookies this afternoon and ate them before I could catch her. She’s in a heap of trouble for it and she’s plenty well aware!” Lythial called from the kitchen and he looked down at his daughter with a sterner look. She returned it with enlarged eyes and her bottom lip puffed out just enough to be cute. She was indeed his, no doubt about that. He sighed and set her down.

“Don’t do it again. If you eat all the cookies, there’ll be none for Papa,” he chided her lightly. Her eyes widened in actual surprise and she looked up at him guiltily.

“I hadn’t thought of that! I’ll help Mama cook more tomorrow. Lots so you can have them when you come home,” she assured him.

“That’s a good girl, now go off and play until dinner,” he smiled and ruffled her hair. She grinned and bolted out of the door behind him. He shook his head and stood, heading into the kitchen.

Lythial stood before the fireplace, testing a chunk of roasting meat before moving over to check the bread oven, completely thrown into what she was doing. Which was his luck, he thought, as he crept towards her. He nearly had his arms around her-

“Vhenan it may have been many years since I have fought in a battle or hunted deep in a forest, but your daughter keeps me on my toes far more than those ever could. So if you believe you can sneak up on me so easily, perhaps we should spar again soon to remind you of what I can do.”

Zevran pouted a moment before leaning against the counter instead. “She is your daughter as well, at least the last I checked. I believe that was the agreement when we decided to take her in” he countered with a smirk.

“Any day she runs me as ragged as she did today, she is your daughter. She clearly gets it from you,” Lythial shot back with a smirk of her own. He pressed a hand to his chest as if insulted.

“I have always been a picture of calm and easy to handle,” he insisted. She scoffed loudly at that.

“You remember how we met right?”

“What a lovely day. The sky was clear, the air was crisp, and corpses lay all about us. You had quite an interestingly made knife pressed to my throat. But all I could pay attention to was your beauty,” he smiled fondly.

She opened her mouth to retort when a cry erupted from the basinet by the table. Zevran moved to it without a word and tenderly scooped up the little bundle that lay inside.

“Now there Tamlen, it is alright, there is nothing for you to cry about. Your Papa is here is he not,” he cooed at his son. This did not seem to reassure the babe as he continued to wail. Zevran frowned slightly and began to rock him gently.

“He’s hungry but I’ve been busy. Rinna’s cookie theft set my baking behind today. I wanted to send some with you and the boys for the trip tomorrow. It isn’t a pleasant journey,” Lythial explained as she pulled the first of the bread loaves from the fire.

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate it,” Zevran nodded as they traded spots. He passed Tamlen to her and stood by the fire to watch the bread, “Especially Sorvin,” he added.

Lythial laughed as she began to feed Tamlen. “He still has that crush I see. It is rather adorable.”

“You’ve seemed to make an impression on all my farm hands. Every day that you seem occupied that always ask about you. ‘Is Messere Lythial well?’ ‘Will Messere Lythial be joining us?’ It gets rather grating when they should be working.”

“Why Zev, are you jealous?” she teased.

“Of course not. They are mere boys. Still it is… frustrating.”

She stood and walked over to him, kissing his cheek. “Well do not worry; you are the only man I shall need.”

He smiled at her as she headed out of the kitchen. “I am going to get Rinna. Make sure the bread doesn’t burn or that’s your share,” she told him and he quickly turned to look at the bread, cursing as he realized it was overdone.

She loved to do that on purpose, he just knew it.

~~~~~

Late that night as their house settled around them Lythial looked up at Zevran from where she was settled on his chest. He was long past asleep, drifting off not long after they’d settled in, needing all he could for the long day tomorrow. His golden hair lay splayed out on the pillow under him and his mouth was open, soft snores escaping him. She nearly giggled at the sight, no matter how familiar. All she could remember is all the days past, and even now, where he insisted he was always handsome and charming. She wondered how he’d ever react if she really told him what he looked like while he slept.

She snuggled more into him and pressed a light kiss to the corner of his lips before lying back down. She supposed she’d spare him a bit longer. Besides, it was nice being the only one who knew this side of him.

Secretly she wondered how they’d really gotten here. Living on a decent farm in a comfortable part of the Free Marches. Away from those who pursued them and practically unknown to those around them. They were simply Lythial and Zevran Sabrae, the nice farming family who was always looking to employ anyone from a refugee family who needed work. They were like any other elven couple just trying to make a living for themselves and their children.

And children. Something she’d barely allowed herself to think of since the moment Duncan stepped into her life. They’d found Rinna, a wee babe abandoned on the border of The Anderfels and Tevinter. It was hardly a question of taking her with them. And Tamlen, carried and birthed herself. She’d never imagined such an ordeal, even growing up in her clan. And she was fairly certain and more of their children would come from any one of the Alienage’s orphan homes in the Free Marches.

Sometimes she wondered what her previous companions thought about her. She’d even considered contacting them, but it seemed too precarious. Alistair was a King now, and dealing with everything that happened, and was still happening with the Inquisition, despite the fact that she supported its continuation. Leliana was the Divine now, and beyond that she could probably track them too easy, even from a simple letter. She had no idea where Morrigan was, or Sten, or Ohgren really. Part of her hoped that they would be happy for her, glad that she found the peaceful life she wished for. But she knew, deep down, that it wouldn’t be that easy for Alistair or Leliana.

Despite it all she could not find regret in any of her actions. Everyone had to take the horns of fate and guide them to where they truly wanted to be. And right here, curled up to the man she loves, her children sleeping soundly, in their little cabin, was where she truly wanted to be.  

I can’t do all the prompts for ZevWarden week like I wanted to, but I’ve had Lythial and Zev’s story sitting on my Computer for literal ages and it fits prompts 2,5,6, and 7 so I feel pretty good about it. It’s really rough and there’s probably some mistakes in there too. I’ll get it polished when I get back from my uncles funeral. I hope you all like it anyhow! :)