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amercsmemoirs · 7 years

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ZevWarden Week, Day 7: Commitment

OKAY this is quite late;;; my apologies.

For Commitment Day, I’m posting Bésame!

"Isabela?"

Allura Mahariel looked up at Zevran Arainai, someone she was currently not on speaking terms with, and noted his surprised, awed expression. He looked the beautiful, charming, mystery woman up and down, and the woman returned his call with a warm smile. "Zevran! How long has it been?" Zevran sauntered up to this Isabela, standing annoyingly close to her as they laughed and talked. "Time has been kind to you, my friend," Zevran complimented her. "Such a shame I can't say the same for you!" Isabela laughed. Even her laugh sounded pretty, Creators. "Come to think of it," Zevran began thoughtfully, "the last time I saw you, you were -" "Don't bring up old memories, sweet thing," Isabela interrupted. "I prefer my imagination to what really happened." Leliana gasped behind Allura and muttered "Scandalous!" under her breath. Even Wynne tutted disapprovingly. That part didn't bother Allura; she was fully aware of Zevran's colorful sexual history before they met. It was what’s happening right now in front of her eyes that was agitating her. Zevran was flirting with Isabela, right in front of her! Like she wasn't even there! Why did he volunteer to come with them if he was still annoyed about yesterday? Come to think of it, why did he also sleep in her tent if he was so... disgruntled? That word gave Allura pause; she couldn't help but think about how furrowed his brow got when he thought she wasn't looking, or the slight pout when she didn't make eye contact. She grinned despite herself. Adorable, she thought. "Oh? Are we quite amusing, my dear Warden?" That was the second thing he'd said to her all day. She wanted to tell him she was thinking about how cute he looked when he was pouting, how she hated that they weren't talking. But with Leliana glaring daggers into the back of his skull (which he tactfully ignored), Wynne showing off her best "I told you so" face, and Zevran openly flirting with another woman, Allura decided against being overly sentimental. "Not at all," Allura responded nonchalantly. The easy way they flirted, the lack of distance between them as they stood side by side... she put a frustrated hand on her hip, despite herself. "Do you know each other?" "Indeed; this is Isabela," Zevran answered with a coy smirk. There was something about the way he said her name that made Allura uneasy. "Queen of the Eastern Seas, and the sharpest blade in Neverra. And Isabela," he turned to his friend, "you will no doubt be amused to discover that I am traveling with a Grey Warden." "A Grey Warden?" Isabela repeated, impressed. "Charmed."

"An-" Allira cut herself off and frowned. She wanted to say "Aneth ara," but remembered her fight with Zevran. "It's good to meet you, Isabela," Allura greeted her, ignoring Zevran's quirked eyebrow. "You don't see many elven Grey Wardens," Isabela began, a sly look in her eye. "Is it true what about a Grey Warden's ... endurance?" Allura's heart skipped a beat. Not because of Isabela's obvious charm or her seductive gaze as she closed the distance between them; no, it was because Zevran’s voice echoed in her mind; it was a few weeks ago by now, true, but she couldn’t forget his low voice in her ear, the morning after, whispering his own opinions about her “Grey Warden endurance.” Allura closed her eyes and took a deep breath; when she opened them, Isabela was so close, Allura could practically see her... heartbeat pulsing over her armor. Creators, Allura swore inwardly, and forced herself to maintain eye contact. "I have met... few Grey Wardens in the short time I've been one; I do not have many acquaintances to compare myself to." Allura's face felt like it was boiling, and Isabela's confident smirk meant she could also tell. Allura frowned, embarrassed, and took a deep breath and a step back. "We should get going, Isabela. It was great meeting you." Allura turned towards the door, catching Zevran's annoyed face as he followed behind her. "Zevran, you're leaving already?" Allura could hear the whine in Isabela's voice behind her. "What about sex?" Allura's blood ran cold. Her heart seemed to stop and speed up at the same time. Despite her panic, she refused to look at him. She turned away to leave, but she could still hear his response: "Would if I could, my dear, but I have a... previous engagement." As Zevran and Isabela said their goodbyes, Allura held back rolling her eyes and strolled out of the Pearl. ~~~~~~~~~~ Back at camp, Allura didn't say more than a few greetings before she returned to her tent. He didn't want to admit it, but Zevran was... concerned. He'd never seen Allura flustered over anyone but him before. Of course, they hadn't known each other long, but he liked to think he knew her better than the rest of the team. Zevran let out a breath. He should make sure her meeting Isabela didn’t have any… lingering effects. As he stood, he noticed Leliana staring at him from in front of her tent while whispering furiously to Alistair. Probably about his flirting with Isabela in front of Allura. 'There was no harm in it, dear Leliana' he wanted to say. 'Neither of us want to tie the other down; she's also free to flirt with whomever she pleases.' At that, he frowned. He felt some... pressure? in his stomach. Curious... He instead flashed a smile at Leliana, which made her flush angrily and whisper at Alistair faster. Zevran held back a laugh and continued towards Allura's tent. The tent flap pulled back, and Allura looked up at him, surprised. "Oh Zevran," she said, throwing one hand behind her back. "An- ... Did you need anything?" He raised an eyebrow, curious. That’s twice she’s avoided speaking Dalish in front of him. She couldn’t be that annoyed with yesterday, could she? "Do I need a reason to check on my favorite Grey Warden?" He smirked. Disbelief covered her face, and his heart sank, for some reason. But then she grinned. "Of course not," she replied, somewhat tersely, as she pushed past him. He caught the distinct clink of coins bouncing in time with her steps. "Unless you were worried about something?" "Do I have something to be concerned about? For instance, where you're going with a small satchel of sovereigns?," he added, a smile plastered in his face. She didn't seem surprised he knew, though she'd made an effort to hide it. "I'm going to a bar for a drink," she answered curtly. "You're welcome to join me, not follow, although I would prefer to go alone." Zevran's jaw clenched. If Allura noticed, she didn't react. What was it that he thought earlier? She's allowed to flirt with whomever she likes? "Of course," he muttered after a pause. "Enjoy yourself." Allura smiled, unamused, and called for her mabari Fen'or as she walked out of the camp.

Zevran bit the inside of his cheek; he was sure he’d earned his place in the group at this point. Alistair and Morrigan have even let him cook dinner unsupervised by now, so he was sure he could stay even if he and Allura were no longer …. Well, “involved”. And she was stubborn and immovable but she was also kind at heart; she wouldn’t make him leave. But would he want to stay? If every time someone glanced at him, with every interaction, their eyes were filled with pity?

Zevran was many things, but pitiable was not one of them.

He’d promised Allura when she spared his life that he would be at her disposal until the day she no longer needed him; he would keep that promise. Even if she told him when she returned that she didn’t want him, he’d already decided that he would stay with her until the Archdemon was killed. But afterwards….

Allura had already given him many gold and silver bars during their travels; he’d be set for a few months after everything is finished. Zevran wasn’t sure how this would end, but it may be time to start committing to his contingency plan. ~~~~~~~~ Allura sighed and rested her forehead on the bar counter. Fen'or sat in the foyer, eating the steak she’d bought for him. She'd already had 2 and a half cups of ale - the cups were almost as big as her head - and Creators, did she feel it. But she needed to get the sight of Zevran flirting with Isabela -- She lifted her head and - ignoring the vertigo - finished the rest of her cup. She groaned and held her forehead in her hands. Big mistake. She could feel her brain floating around in her skull. The slightest movement made her head and eyes scream in pain; when was the last time she felt this bad - " .... you alright, sweetheart? I .... had enough...." The barkeep's voice faded in and out, but Allura got the gist; she was cutting her off. "Tel.... telsila... ar'm...." Allura struggled to think an appropriate lie, but the words escaped her - there's was too much noise, too many people laughing and talking for her to think straight - "Don't ... I've got her." Allura recognized the voice next to her - it wasn't that familiar but she knew it, who - ? She turned her head - and did her best to suppress the wince - Isabela smirked down at her and winked, drinking her own cup of ale. Creators. "And put my drink on her tab!" she called out to the barkeep. Then to Allura, "Consider it payment for saving you from the hovering vultures." The exact person she did not want to see, sitting next to her as if they were old friends, why is this happening? "Fenedhis -" The room swirled and suddenly Allura was doubled over, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the floor under her and Isabela’s feet. ~~~~~~~~~ An hour later, Isabela had rented a room and brought Allura copious amounts of water and bread, for which the elf was more grateful than she cared to admit. Allura sat on the couch without much fuss; she'd caused the poor woman enough trouble already. Allura squeezed her eyes shut in a futile attempt to stop the room the spinning. When that didn't work, she held her head in her hands and groaned lowly. "You know, letting your hair down would help with the headache," Isabela advised from behind her. Allura grunted in acknowledgement, but remained still. It probably would help - her bun was always tight - but the movement seemed so extraneous. Allura heard a light chuckle behind her as her hair came undone and her dark brown hair fell around her neck and shoulders. Her head felt cool and light, the pressure falling away. "Ma serannas,” Allura mumbled into her hands. "Ir abelas..." "You speak a lot of Dalish when you're drunk, don't you?" With a short laugh, Allura lifted her head. "Thank you, Isabela. I'm sorry to put you through this." "No worries." Allura could hear the smirk in her voice. "Now you owe me for the save and the room." The elf grunted again, thankful she hadn't spent many of the sovereigns yet. They sat together in silence for a time. Allura wouldn't describe it as comforting, but it was welcome. Allura wasn't even alarmed when Isabela quietly moved from behind the couch to the coffee table in front of it. But then she spoke. "So is there a reason you were getting hammered in a brothel alone?" Allura never understood why it was called a brothel. It's where people go to pay for sex, not eat soup. Although, soup could be served here... "I was not alone," Allura refuted, head back in her hands. "Fen'or is with me." Fen'or, who had been brought in after Isabela reserved for the room, perked up and barked once happily. "You know what I mean." Allura sighed and lifted her head. "Creators, I needed to get the image of Zevran flirting with you out of my head." Isabela's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. It was worth the discomfort moving caused to see this gorgeous, confident woman so off guard. "You and Zevran? You're... together?" "Yes." "Like... together together?" "Yes." She made her annoyance clear with that one syllable. "Wow. I've never took him for a 'settle down' type." Allura had to agree. She'd heard his stories; she's always wondered why such a worldly, charming, deadly elf would be interested in being with her. She couldn't think of anything remotely interesting about herself.

"Wait." Isabela's confused voice broke Allura from her reverie. "Why would you come here if you're trying to forget what I looked like?" "Fenedhis, I spent the whole day killing gang members in every other bar in Denerim. I couldn't risk going to a bar in their territory and running into them alone." Allura sighed. "I may be strong, but I am one elf." She never felt like that before meeting Zevran, or anyone else in the group. She never felt so insignificant before. But as much as she could do on her own, what she can do now, with the people she calls friends, is so much more. There was no comparison. "Not that any of it will matter soon," Allura sighed, returning her head to her forehead. "I'm sure we'll both be single in no time. I guess we're... fighting." "You're fighting?," Isabela asked with the same incredulous tone of voice. "Yes." Allura let out another sigh. "What did you do when you and Zevran fought...?" "Us? Sweet thing, Zevran and I were never together-together. Actually, I've never known him to be serious with anyone - almost anyone." While she didn't like how Isabela said "almost anyone," the confirmation was much appreciated. Allura lifted her head and grinned. "Good to know." Isabela smirked. "Alright, I'll help you out. What's going on?"

Allura had no idea why such a woman would be interested in helping her with her relationship problems, but she was grateful for the offer. So grateful, in fact, she decided not to question it.

"I'm not very... interesting, Isabela. Not like Zevran. But I am Dalish, which may be vaguely interesting to other people." Allura was rambling, which was new to her. She could always blame the ale if Isabela ever spoke about this. "And I wanted to teach him Dalish, even if it's the little bit that I know. But he wouldn't learn it." Isabela tilted her head curiously. "Isn't Dalish dying even among the Dalish already? No one really uses it outside your clan, right?" There it was. The same thing Zevran said. Her heart clenched and she sighed. "Oh... I see. Zevran said that too." Allura was glad her new friend didn’t make her say it. Isabela crossed her legs on the table. "But it wasn't about learning Dalish to use it, was it?" "... No," Allura answered quietly. "I miss my people. The Keeper, my friends, the Halla. Merrill, and," she took a deep breath, "Tamlen." She breathed out, ignoring how shaky her voice was going to be. "I miss them, and if I could share it with Zevran, I would miss them less, and we could talk in secret. We could be closer." The silence this time was a little deafening. Allura peeked at Isabela and saw she was looking at her thoughtfully. The elf raised a curious eyebrow. "What is it?" "What is it that you care about more," Isabela started carefully, "Zevran speaking Dalish, or the both of you speaking the same thing?" Zevran speaking Dalish, Allura thought immediately. But of course that was her answer; she was stubborn and hard headed, and pushed too much. Zevran was the opposite; despite the way he acted, he cared so much, but never forced anyone to do anything they didn't want to. She wanted him to be more open with her, but she needed to give a little too. "I just want us to be closer." Her voice was lower, smaller than it'd ever been before, but she could still hear it echo around the room. It was somehow terrifying and humbling to realize that she just wanted to be with him more when they weren't in combat. "Fine." Isabela's voice cut through the echo in Allura's head. "I'll help you." Allura looked up curiously, and saw Isabela looking smug and confident, but just a little bit softer than earlier that day. "I don't know much Antivan," Isabela began. "But I know enough to fix this." "Really, Isabela? Ma serannas -" "- For a price." Allura deflated just a bit, but there was no way she was going to turn her down. "Five sovereigns a night," Allura offered. "Nine." "Six, and I buy you dinner every night." "Deal! My, Allura. You sure know how to sweet talk a gal." Isabela fanned herself with a grin. "Thank you, Isabela. This means a -" "Yes, yes, you're grateful, have no idea how to thank me, blah, blah." Isabela got off the table and walked to the door, waving off Allura's heartfelt exclamations of gratitude. She stopped briefly to pet Fen'or. "Meet here an hour after sunset for dinner. You're paying for the room too." Then Isabela winked and she was gone. ~~~~~~ Allura made it back to the camp much later than Zevran expected her. Alistair, who was on watch, greeted her as she walked past the fire and entered her tent. She paused at the entrance - maybe surprised to see Zevran curled in the bedroll next to hers? - and she let out a sigh. Disappointment? Annoyance? He should just confront her now - but what would she say? Zevran remained still. Allura disrobed and slipped into her bed roll. She hesitated before laying down. He heard some shuffling, and felt her hand against his back. It was brief but warm, and he could feel each finger pressed against his shoulder blade. He ignored the chill the absence of her hand created. ----- The next morning, Zevran was awakened by the sound of metal against metal and light footsteps. He turned to see Allura was already dressing. "Going somewhere so early?," he asked.

"Oh! Good morning, Zevran." Allura turned and smiled. Her armor - from her helm to her boots - was already on and she was gathering her satchel from the floor. He noticed that it was much lighter than when she left. She couldn't have drunk that much, could she? "How was the bar?" Her eyes widened and darted to the side briefly. "It was... fine. I ran into Isabela. We - had a drink." Zevran's heart clenched - why? He’d asked Isabela to keep an eye on her, why bother getting upset that they had a drink? Because Allura wasn’t telling the whole truth. He forced a smile. "That's great. I'm... pleased you get along." "She's much more agreeable than I thought she was," Allura admitted with a laugh. "We're going out for drinks again tonight." His blood ran cold; he couldn't - no wouldn't - point out why. He sat up, ignoring the dread he felt. "That's... great. I'm - " "Sorry, vhenan, I need to make some money before tonight. I'll see you afterwards." With a smile and a small wave, she slipped out of the tent and was off. She didn't sound angry; she even referred to him by her Elven pet name for him.

Perhaps… she was over the fight. Maybe drinking with Isabela did truly help, and when she returned tonight, everything will go back to normal. ------ Things did not go back to normal. The pattern continued for another three days; Allura would wake up early every morning, leave early, come back to complete group missions to earn money for the night, go for "drinks with Isabela," come back very late, and sleep. She stayed up for her shifts for the night watch and kept up with her responsibilities. But he hadn't seen her eat in days. She had to though; her satchel was full every day before group missions and considerably lighter when she returned at night. If he asked her about her disappearances, or why she needed so much money every day, or why she was drinking with Isabela so often, she would give him a flimsy excuse and wave it off. “I’m allowed time to myself, correct?” “Bars are so much more expensive in human port towns than the forest ones.” “She’s such an interesting person!” It wasn’t in his nature to push and make someone do something. But he would get an answer tonight. ~~~~~~~~ Allura strolled back into camp, late as usual, with a bit more of a skip in her step. Isabela’s lessons were almost over! She’d be able to talk to Zevran privately, even around the group. Sure, her accent still needed work, and she never emphasized the right syllable, but it was something. There was progress.

She was in such high spirits she didn’t notice Zevran perched in the tree above her until he dropped down in front of her. His brow was furrowed, he looked as if he’d been up there all night, and she’d never wanted to hold him more than at that moment.

Zevran did not look like he felt the same, despite the smile he plastered onto his face. “How was ‘drinks with Isabela’?”

Allura’s brows furrowed in confusion. Why was he so obsessed with knowing that answer? What would it matter to him anyway? She’s been in a much better mood since going out for drinks, all to surprise him, and she never lied about where she was or who she was with. What could be the problem?

“I don’t understand why you’re upset…”

Then the reason dawned on her. To him, they were still “in a fight.” She resolved the issue she’d had without telling her partner about it. So, now she’s in a better mood, but she’s not spending any time with him; instead, she’s with someone else every chance she gets. She covered her face, ashamed. This entire plan happened because she wanted to get closer to him, and she forgot to talk to him about it.

“Zevran, I’m sorry - ”

“We began this agreeing not to tie each other down, no? I just imagined we would be adults and talk to each other about this.” He gestured between the two of them. “If you prefer Isabela’s company, then I will not stand in your way -”

“Zevran, no, that is not what’s happening - ”

“Then why else have you spent every night this week with her?”

“Because she has been teaching me how to speak Antivan.” For a second, she was surprised at how quickly she confessed the truth to him. But the frustration on his face fell away to reveal the confusion and loneliness he must have been feeling for days; she needed to fix this as soon as possible.

“But why… would you want that? Why would she agree?” The confusion and disbelief in his voice hurt her for some reason, but she couldn’t act on it.

“I… I wanted her to teach me Antivan so I could spend more time with you. I wanted to do more than train to fight Darkspawn with you when we weren’t actually fighting Darkspawn. Fenedhis, I got caught up in the excitement and didn’t realize I wasn’t spending any time with you at all. I am sorry to have worried you so much.”

She was! She couldn’t express that enough. But she wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t believe her now.

“... What did she teach you?”

Allura flushed; she wasn’t confident enough to actually say it yet.

Her silence must have annoyed him, because the next thing he said was an ultimatum: “If you can’t tell me yourself, perhaps I should ask Isabela personally.”

Allura reached out for his hand. Her fingertips brushed past the back of his hand, and she hesitated before grabbing him. She took a deep breath before latching onto his hand.

“Bésame.”

Her lover turned, disbelief plain on his face. No, she was still saying it wrong. And it's a song, she has to sing it.

“Bésame mucho. Que tengo miedo perderte, perderte después.”

Zevran shook his hand from hers and she wanted to cry. Of course she took too long to realize what she'd done, and he's moved on. She heard him sigh and braced herself for the sound of his footsteps away from her.

Instead, he walked towards her and before she could react his lips were on hers. She froze. His lips were warm and soft and urgent and it pained her when he broke away.

“Your accent is terrible.”

He kissed her again.

“You don't put enough emphasis on the accents.”

He kissed her again. This time, she kissed back.

“You aren't singing in tune with the song.”

Another kiss.

“Your lessons could use some improvement.”

Flushed and breathless, Allura secretly hoped he'd kiss her again. It’d been so long since she’d even held him, his kisses almost overwhelmed her --

“Can you teach me?”

He smirked and held her face in his calloused hands.

“Of course, mi amor.” Zevran rested his forehead on his, and she caught his scent: leather and herbs and sandalwood. She took a deep breath and sighed.

Her lover raised his chin and kissed her again, slowly this time, more deliberately than before. She shuddered, just a little, and pulled him closer to her. She rested her head against his shoulder; she’d forgotten how comfortable the fit was.

“Vhenan?” Allura murmured into his chest.

“Hmm?” Zevran hummed.

“Would you…” She paused. “Would you sing it for me?”

“Ah. But of course,” he began. “If you could do something for me.”

Anything, she thought. “Depends on what it is,” was what she said.

He chuckled. “Would you tell me what ‘vhenan’ means?”

Allura broke away, alarmed. Why would he want to know now? Was he pitying her?

“But you said…,” she trailed off, not wanting to say it.

“I did,” he finished. “I told you Dalish was a dying language. So,” he continued, grabbing both of her hands. “Teach me what you know.”

He waited patiently, holding eye contact, while she pieced this together. What could he gain from learning a dying language? Nothing tangible for sure -

But he could gain her. Assuming she was what he wanted.

She let out a breathy chuckle. She could hope.

“Vhenan is short for ma’vhenan,” she began. “‘My heart.’” Without missing a beat, she asked, “What does ‘amor’ mean?”

She held back a frown when she said it. When he calls her ‘amor,’ the word is light, airy, somehow musical. It sounded flat and dull in her own voice.

Zevran smiled and broke eye contact, briefly. If she didn’t know any better, Allura would swear he was embarrassed.

“‘Mi amor,” he corrected her. “‘My love.’”

So she should hope.

“How about we retire to my tent,” she proposed, “and you can sing for me?”

“Only if you promise to sing for me,” he offered with a sly smirk and a wink.

She felt her cheeks heat up but allowed herself to be led to her tent. She laid in the cot next to her love, and listened to his song.

#zevwarden week 2017 #zevran arainai #allura mahariel #zevran #why did i have to spend so long italicizing things #Allura are you secretly;;;;;; extra??#anyways you know why this whole fic started #cuz my spanish teacher from a year ago gave us the lyrics to Bésame #and i couldnt stop thinking about this happening #and it took me a fucking;;;#year to finish but hey its done #anyway #uhh here it is #i went on a trip last week and couldnt finish - well - FINISHING this story #the ending needed work;;;;;#but now its better i guess hahaha #and uhhhh #enjoy

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mercs4art · 7 years

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ZevWarden Week, Day 2: Domestic

Modern AU where they live together after college in the house Allura designed and built with her own hands and spend at least 20 minutes a day staring at each other’s faces

#zevwarden week 2017 #zevwarden #allura mahariel #zevran arainai #f!wardenxzevran #okay well technically #nonbinary!wardenxzevran #anyway #i like this one i guess #didnt like what i drew for yesterday ;A;#anyway i wanted to draw a Zev butt so i did and he wears boxer briefs #uhhhhhh #enjoy???

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sanguinifex · 7 years

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“Who said you were doing the reconnaissance?” asked Arl Eamon.

“Have any of you ever infiltrated a hostile target’s mansion, alone, with the purpose of stealing information or killing your target and getting out alive? No? Well then, it would seem that I am the only man for the job, don’t you think?”

“And just how are you going to do it?” asked Alistair.

“There are rumors about Howe. Or rather, about a man with a pinched face strikingly similar to his who preys on those the authorities care little about. I will infiltrate the Arl of Denerim’s mansion disguised as an elven prostitute.”

Zevran paused for effect, gauging the others’ responses. Erlina looked impressed; the Arl looked shocked and appalled; Alistair blushed. Cute, that last, but if he was to be king he needed to better control his reactions.

“Well?” he asked the room. “It will work. I am very charming, and I can handle myself should he decide to take any liberties I do not wish him to. Moreover, I can even do so without killing him, unless you wish me to kill him. Now, what are we waiting for? Get me a dress.”

This got considerably longer than a fic week promptfic should be, but more the fun for everyone, I guess!

I have a Patreon!

#zevwarden week #zevwarden week 2017 #zevwarden #dragon age #zevran #zevran arainai #surana #dragon age fic #sanguinifexwriting #sanguinifexoriginal #link

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kpssmithwrites · 7 years

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Times Change, But We Do Not - Day 6 of Zevran/Warden Week

I’ve actually had this prompt sitting in my drafts, a bit different. I tweaked it a bit and completed it, cleaning it up for today! Only one more day to go!

Read part one, “Muscles of Iron, Bones of Steel,” here!

Read part two, “The Cottage,” here!

Read part three, “The Perfect Dance Partner,” here!

Read part four, “ We’ve got Such Shit Initiative Roles – A Dungeons and Dragons AU,” here!

Read part five, “What’s Said in A Look” here!

Saturday, August 5th: Family/Papa Zev

The Newest Additions by thethinkingfruit, Part 6/7 of Times Change, But We Do Not

Brief Summary: Sometimes, promises can't be kept, but that doesn't mean that Bralinden and Zevran don't try. What's more important is that they're there for each other in the end (Or: Bralinden goes through childbirth).

Pairing: Zevran Arainai/The Hero of Ferelden (Aeducan)

Rating: General Audiences

Bralinden’s water broke in the middle of a council meeting, much to her horror. She was sitting against Alistair’s right, arguing with a nobleman over petty land disputes, when Alistair—and a good majority of the chamber—heard a splash. Bralinden’s eyebrows raised, mildly surprised as silence fell over the gentlemen and ladies seated before them.

Alistair looked like at a loss for words, staring at her. His gaze trailed downward for a moment before he turned a light pink, and opened his mouth to speak.

Braliden cut him off. As politely as she could muster, she asked, “Could someone get me a damned midwife?” before she rose from her seat and tried to escort herself from the chair and out of the room to save herself any further embarrassment. One hand steadied herself on the chair, and the other grasped at her swollen belly.

#zevwarden week #zevwarden week 2017 #dragon age #dragon age: origins #zevran arainai #zevran x warden #avery's writing #bralinden aeducan

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firegirl156 · 7 years

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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! :)

#ZevWarden Week #ZevWarden Week 2017 #Lythial Mahariel #zevran arainai #I love these two I really really do omg

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probably-definitely-a-bard · 7 years

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Zevwarden week 2017-day 1

Title: Massage Pairing: Zevran/Female Surana It was quiet in Zevran's tent, Andra absentmindedly fretting the edge of her robes as Zevran sat across from her. "Are you comfortable?" He asked, concern in his eyes. "Oh!" Andra snapped from the daze she had been in, "Y-yes, I'm comfortable!" "Are you sure? A massage takes some time and-" "I've never been touched." Andra blurted, realized how that sounded, blushed a deep red and looked away, tucking a strand of black hair behind a pointed ear. "I-I meant," she stammered out, "I meant that I've never gotten a massage... the templars didn't allow much physical contact in the tower and I..." "You're nervous?" Zevran guessed, Andra nodded. "We don't have to if you are uncomfortable." He reassured her. She shook her head. "No, I want to, I just don't know how I should- how to..." "Just relax." His voice was calm and even, and for the first time since they entered the tent, Andra looked at him. He hadn't moved an inch since they sat down, hadn't made a move with his hands. He was waiting for her. Her shoulders relaxed, the knot of anxiety in her stomach loosened as she turned her back to him and shed the layers of her robes down to bare skin. Zevran's hands were warm and unfamiliar on her shoulders. His thumbs worked into the muscles in her back. A slight frown crossed his face as he worked the muscles, they were tight. This may take several sessions. The thought was pleasing to him, he did enjoy seeing the warden with her guard down. Of course, he also did enjoy watching her in the heat of battle, spells slinging from her staff as if second nature to her. He just enjoyed watching Andra, he had known his fair share of mages, killed his fair share of mages. Yet he had never met one whom had lived in a circle. She was aware of her surroundings, aware of the people she was around, but so new to the world before her. He once found her alone and asleep in a field on a sunny day, a serene expression on her face- as if she hadn't been fighting like her life depended on it, as if the world wasn't in danger. And now as Zevran turned his attention from his thoughts to the woman before him he found her completely relaxed. Her ears were folded back in content, her shoulders were slack and she made small sounds of pleasure as his hands continued to work. She had pulled her hair over one shoulder, leaving her neck entirely exposed. Zevran leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. This seemed to bring her out of her trance like state as she gasped in surprise. Oh no, he must have gone too far. "Did I offend?" He inquired, leaning back, trying to remain calm. "Not at all." Andra smiled, "perhaps you could do that again?" "With pleasure my dear."

#Zevwarden week 2017 #long post #Zevran Arainai #Female Surana #gosh I haven't written anything in so long so my writing is super rusty

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vonuberwald · 7 years

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Zevran and Anise for the ‘Family/Papa Zev’ prompt for ZevWarden Week 2017. Couldn’t resist doing another one of him and Anise. I really need to get Theron in there at their side for a proper family portrait but two figures is hard enough ; ;

#zevwarden week #papa!zevran #anise mahariel #zevran arainai #dragon age origins #dragon age #fanart #my art #original characters

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naiatabris · 7 years

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My 2017 Tumblr Top 10

I just joined Tumblr this year--it was so much fun to see what people liked on this little blog! (No surprise, Zevran fluff tops my list! I think the neighbors AU post at #2 might be my personal favorite :)) 1). 63 notes - 31 July 2017

#zevwarden week day 1: Massage

2). 36 notes - 10 August 2017

hmm, for the three-sentence fics, tabris/zevran, neighbors au? :3

3). 32 notes - 01 August 2017

#zevwarden week day 2: Domestic

4). 19 notes - 04 September 2017

Cullen Appreciation Week!

5). 16 notes - 08 September 2017

Cullen Appreciation Week 5: Friends

6). 16 notes - 05 August 2017

#zevwarden week day 6: Family

7). 15 notes - 05 September 2017

Cullen Appreciation Week: Day 2

8). 14 notes - 09 September 2017

Cullen Appreciation Week Day 6

9). 14 notes - 19 August 2017

Naia/Zevran, modern international spy AU

10). 13 notes - 13 July 2017

#sexlaughterhonesty week

Created by TumblrTop10

#tumblrtop10 #dragon age #dragon age fanfic

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minwrathous · 7 years

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ZevWarden Week 2017 - Day 1

Monday, July 31 : Massage The sort of skills that one only learns growing up in an Antivan whorehouse. Whether it continues beyond just massage is up to you! [ Collected Prompts ]

Nymm stepped into his quarters and let out a sigh. He shut the heavy door behind him and fought the urge to sag against it in relief. Finally, he had a moment to just...be alone. No more more dwarven politics. No more representatives from Bhelen or Harrowmont hounding him for support. No more pressure to choose a side. Well, at least for tonight, anyway.

Tonight, he could just sleep.

“Good evening, Warden,” a voice unexpectedly purred.

Nymm looked up in surprise and found that he wasn’t quite alone after all. He felt a little smile tugging at his lips as he realized whose voice it was.

“Hello, Zev,” Nymm said. The assassin was sprawled out on his bed, wearing only a shirt and light leather breeches. Nymm stepped away from the door and drew closer to the bed. “I see you’ve made yourself comfortable.”

“That I have,” Zevran replied with an easy smirk. “I am quite offended - your bed is much more comfortable than my own. And you don’t even have to share the room.” He put on a convincing pout and stretched his arms out to take up even more bedspace.

“Don’t I?” Nymm replied with a laugh. He took a seat on the edge of the bed and looked down at the other elf.

“I can leave if you wish,” Zevran said. “Return to my own smaller quarters, and the brooding qunari I left behind.” He smirked at Nymm.

“No, you don’t have to go.” Nymm shook his head. “You know I don’t mind sharing.” In fact, Nymm had been sharing his tent with Zevran more frequently over the past few weeks. He’d expected to share his current quarters with the other man, but both Alistair and himself had been given private accommodations. Nymm supposed it was an effort on somebody’s behalf to win the Wardens’ favor. The joke was on them, though; he couldn’t remember if it was Bhelen or Harrowmont who had provided lodgings for their party.

“I see you came prepared,” Nymm said, nodding toward the low bedside table. An unfamiliar vial of oil was sitting next to a flickering candle. “Is that a new type of oil?” It didn’t look like the kind that he and Zevran normally used when they were intimate.

“I did, and it is,” Zevran replied. He sat up and scooted closer to Nymm.

“Ah,” Nymm said, half-sighing. As much as he enjoyed having sex with Zevran, he wasn’t sure he was in the mood tonight. It usually helped him alleviate stress; tonight, he felt like it might not work. He didn’t want Zevran to leave though; he enjoyed his company, regardless of the sex. “Some special dwarven concoction?” He continued, gesturing at the oil. “...what would that even be made from? No, don’t answer that.”

“No,” Zevran chuckled. “I didn’t buy it here; I brought it with me. And it is not for what you are thinking. No, no. I have other plans for you tonight.”

Nymm looked at him curiously. “Other plans?”

“Yes,” Zevran replied. “If you would be so kind as to disrobe, I would like to show you.”

“Other plans that involve oil and me being naked? I don’t know, Zev,” Nymm replied. Still, he obediently began to undo the top of his robe. “This seems like what we usually do before you bring out the oil.”

“You are not wrong, Nymm,” he replied with a low chuckle. He leaned in and began to help with the robe, his deft fingers quickly undoing the buttons and ties that held it on. He was close enough that Nymm caught the familiar scent of leather and something vaguely spicy. It was very Zevran.

“Thank you,” Nymm murmured. He tried not to dwell on how he was starting to find Zevran’s smell comforting. Thinking about that might start dredging up feelings, and the last thing he needed to worry about now was feelings. Instead, he started working on the belt around his own waist.

“There,” Nymm said, sliding the belt off and parting the fabric. He let it drop from his shoulders, then stood up so he could remove the robes entirely. He was left wearing only his smalls. And his boots.

“Maker,” he grumbled, and bent over to undo them. “I always forget the bloody boots.” He paused long enough to glance up at Zevran. “...unless I should leave them on?”

“Boots off tonight,” Zevran replied with a smirk. He was staring at Nymm’s ass, of course. “You may leave your smalls on, should you prefer.”

“Really?” Nymm undid a boot buckle. “That is different. Zev, what am I undressing for?”

Zevran hummed and moved to grab the oil from the bedside table. “It occurred to me that you never got that massage I promised you.”

“Massage?” Nymm sat back down so he could pull his boots off. “Oh. Wait…” He remembered it now, the ‘massage’ Zevran had suggested back before he’d first bedded Nymm. The Warden had assumed the massage had just been codeword for ‘sex’. “Was there actually supposed to be a massage?” He let a boot drop to the stone floor.

Zevran laughed. “Well, there could have been. Truthfully, it was about sex that time. But I did not lie about being a master of the Antivan massage.” He uncorked the vial and gestured to the bed.

Nymm let the second boot drop and crawled back onto the bed. “So...you’re going to massage me now?” Nymm had never had a massage before. He lay back, suddenly feeling stiff and a little awkward. He was back in uncharted territory again.

“Yes,” Zevran replied. “Roll over onto your belly, if you please. I would start with your back.” He waited for Nymm to flip himself over before he straddled the Warden’s ass. “Relax, my Warden,” he said, letting his hands slide up the other elf’s pale back.

“I am relaxed,” Nymm replied. Wasn’t he?

“The sad part is that you believe you are correct,” Zevran murmured. Nymm heard the cork pop as Zevran opened the vial. “I have seen how tense you are lately.” Nymm could smell the oil now - almond, with a hint of some other unknown spice.

“You bear the weight of responsibility. You let it wind you up tight. Far too tight.” Zevran’s hands pressed against one of his shoulders, slick with the oil. It was warm now. It felt...nice.

“No jokes about being tight?” Nymm asked. He frowned as Zevran began to add more pressure to the shoulder. It wasn’t as nice now; it was starting to hurt a bit.

“There are some things that shouldn’t be so tight,” Zevran replied with a warm chuckle.

“Should it…” Nymm hissed as Zevran’s fingers dug into him even more. Hurt? He was interrupted as the pain in his shoulder suddenly shifted to something deeper. More satisfying. He felt some of the tension release and he let out a satisfied grunt. “Oh.”

So that’s why people liked to get massages.

“There it is,” Zevran said, his oiled hands sliding across Nymm’s skin to the other shoulder.

“Mm,” was Nymm’s only response. He closed his eyes and felt himself sink a little deeper into the mattress. At least not everything down here was made of stone.

Zevran worked silently, his skilled hands drawing out more contented noises from the Warden. Nymm didn’t even stir when those hands found their way to the back of his neck. It wasn’t lost on him how vulnerable he’d made himself around Zevran since they’d started spending more time together. He knew why Zevran was so skilled at massages. What better time than now to slip a dagger into his back? To pull out a small blade with poison? Or even to slide his hands around further and apply that pressure to his throat?

Instead, Zevran scooted himself back so he was sitting just below Nymm’s ass. His hands slid down to the center of Nymm’s back and kept up their work.

“So, tell me,” Nymm said after a moment. He sighed as one particularly tense spot was loosened. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why?” Zevran hummed. “Because you need it.”

“I need it?”

“Yes,” Zevran replied. “I said before you that you bear the weight of your responsibility. I know that our time here in Orzammar has been particularly stressful,” Zevran replied. “So many expectations. People wanting your attention. Your assistance.” The assassin’s hands slid down more, over Nymm’s lower back.

“I could see today that you were nearly overwhelmed, and if I can help you with some of that stress, I will. I’m rather good at being a distraction, as you well know already.” Zevran chuckled.

“I suppose I can’t argue that,” Nymm replied. He hadn’t realized that Zevran had been watching him so closely. Paying attention to him. But...something still bothered him. Something that had been on his mind more often lately.

Soon after they began having sex, Nymm had come to understand some of Zevran’s motivations. Cozying up to the Warden had been a survival tactic at the start, hadn’t it? But so many things had happened since then. Did Zevran still think that he needed to remain useful? Was that why he was keeping himself so attuned to Nymm’s moods? If so, it bothered Nymm. Deeply.

“You do know that you don’t have to, Zev. I appreciate it, but...you shouldn’t feel obligated to keep me happy like this,” Nymm said softly. The hands at his back stopped mid-push and pulled away. For a moment, Zevran was simply a silent weight pressing down on Nymm’s lower body.

“You assume that I feel a sense of obligation then,” Zevran finally said. There was no trace of laughter left in his tone. “But perhaps I do this because it is what I want to do.”

“...because you want to?” Nymm echoed. He felt a flutter of something in his belly. Zevran sounded so sincere, and maybe a little offended that Nymm had misunderstood his motives.

“Yes,” Zevran replied. “I want to make you feel good. I...do not like seeing you so miserable.”

“Well,” Nymm said, his throat suddenly dry. He got the sense that there was some bigger thing lurking beneath the surface of those words. There was something building between them that neither man was ready to acknowledge.

“...I’m decidedly less miserable now,” Nymm said after a moment. It was easier simply to move on and ignore any of the awkwardness.

“Good,” Zevran replied, and put his hands just above the Warden’s ass. He went back to the massage, and both elves remained quiet, thoughtful. They’d both danced around some unspoken truth, and there was a sense that the two of them would keep dancing. For a while longer, anyway.

Zevran kept moving down the other elf’s backside, continuing his massage lower and lower until he ended with the Warden’s feet in his hands. By the time Zevran was done, Nymm was half-asleep. His entire body felt relaxed and kind of tingly. It was pleasant.

He was roused when Zevran prompted him to roll over. Nymm grumbled a little, but obliged after a moment. He didn’t spare any worry for the oil that was now getting all over the sheets. It would be somebody else’s problem in the morning.

“Shall I continue with your front?” Zevran asked. He’d crawled up the bed until he was kneeling beside Nymm and peering down at him.

“...I think I’m sufficiently relaxed now,” Nymm replied, still a little groggy.

“Damn,” Zevran said with a little smirk. “This is the part where the massage gets a little more interesting.” One hand trailed down to touch the top of Nymm’s smalls.

Nymm smiled and shook his head, then put his hand on top of Zevran’s. “Perhaps tomorrow. I think you’ve done me in tonight.”

Zevran nodded in understanding and began to pull his hand away. He would take his leave, then. He paused when he felt Nymm’s hand tighten around his.

“Stay with me?” the Warden asked, tugging on his hand. He looked up at Zevran, eyes both hopeful and tired.

Zevran paused. “Of course, Warden,” he replied. “Let me remove my clothes. You are a bit too oily for them.” He chuckled and gently extracted his hand. Nymm simply grunted in response and rolled over onto his side.

After a moment, the candles near the bed were snuffed out. Zevran slipped into bed next to Nymm, pressing himself up against his oily back. The assassin pulled the covers up over them and wrapped an arm around the Warden. Nymm knew he’d be kicking himself in the morning for not cleaning up before sleep, but he was too comfortable to bother. And clearly Zevran didn’t mind. He smiled at the thought and scooted closer.

“You weren’t wearing any smalls, were you?” Nymm murmured as he settled back against the other elf. He could feel Zevran’s nakedness through the thin fabric of his own smalls.

“Of course not,” Zevran chuckled.

“Sorry,” Nymm said, his voice soft. Here, after giving Nymm such a relaxing massage, Zevran was being left unfulfilled. Nymm felt a twinge of guilt. “I can…” He reached back with his hand, trailing it along Zevran’s naked thigh.

“No,” Zevran said. “Do not worry about it. You need to sleep.” His voice was warm, but firm. Nymm pulled his hand back and let out a little sigh. He’d just have to show his appreciation at a later time, preferably when he was more awake.

“Thank you, Zevran,” Nymm said. “For tonight. For all of this…” He trailed off. It was too hard to keep his eyes open now that he was so comfortable again.

“You’re quite welcome,” Zevran replied. But it fell upon deaf ears. The Warden was breathing deeply, already asleep.

Zevran chuckled softly to himself and shifted to get more comfortable. He allowed himself a brief second to nuzzle at the other man’s neck, not caring about the oil that was covering them both. He’d gone to sleep in far worse conditions.

“Good night, my dear,” Zevran said, his words in Antivan and barely a whisper. He placed a kiss at the nape of Nymm’s neck; it was far more gentle than he was used to giving.

After, it didn’t take long for him to follow the Warden into sleep.

#ZevWarden Week #Dragon Age fanfiction #Zevran x Warden #ZevWarden #Zevran Arainai #M!Warden #M!Surana #Nymm Surana #fanfic #my writing

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zevranology · 7 years

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ZevWarden Week 2017 Prompts

I’m going to start working on the daily themes for this year’s ZevWarden week, but I thought I’d open it up to my followers first!

Is there anything you’d like to see in this year’s ZevWarden week? Reply to this post or send me a message. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try to incorporate what I can.

Just as a reminder that ZevWarden Week will take place July 31 - August 6! Mark it on your calendars :D

#zevran arainai #zevwarden week #zevwarden #da:o #dragon age origins

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magicrobins · 7 years

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How To Live Without The War

Piras Surana x Zevran Arainai. Dragon Age [Dual AU]. 938 words. More under the cut. AO3. | ZevWarden Week 2017 by @zevranology.

Prompt: Domestic - Zevran and his warden live exciting lives, but what about when the world isn’t ending?

Mentions @bxtgrl‘s Namera Cousland & Sarabeth Tabris.

The beginning of their lives after the Blight. Takes place pre-Awakening.

I thought this was longer than it turned out to be. ಥ_ಥ

What was a Warden without a Blight? Happier? Free?

Bored.

Piras was slouched on Alistair’s throne, looking as bored as he thought Alistair must have felt whenever he had to do anything kingly. He got odd looks, naturally, but no one said anything. No one wanted to tell him to move, after all he was King Alistair’s best friend. And Alistair never minded when Piras plopped down onto the throne because he was tired and it was the closest seat. For some reason, nobles liked seeing both Heroes of Ferelden by their king’s side – Namera on the second throne, growing into her new title, and Piras standing to the side of the king, feeling more like a pet left out as eye candy than a Commander of the Grey.

Fereldens didn’t like seeing an elf on the throne – especially an elven mage. The number of times he’d heard them whisper about a knife ear, often catching the words when Alistair and Namera didn’t, having better hearing than them. Each time, he hadn’t been afraid to interrupt whoever was speaking – often Alistair or Teagan, sometimes Namera too – at the moment to call the racist bastards out, often calling them a racist bastard. His hands would spark with electricity, his magic reacting to his anger.

He was frequently reminded why Sarabeth, Sylvas, and Atlen – a city elf and two Dalish elves – found majority of humans unbearable.

“May I have an audience with the King?”

Piras looked up at the familiar voice and smiled when he saw Zevran standing a few feet away, grinning at him.

“If I’m the King,” he countered, “Then all of Ferelden must be planning a revolt.”

Zevran chuckled, coming to stand next to the throne, his side to his lover. He rested his hand on the edge of the throne’s arm. “A crown suits you.”

Piras leaned to the side, cocking an eyebrow. “They put a helmet on my head, not a crown.”

Zevran was still grinning at him. “Well true, but you would look good in a crown.”

“Only a crown?” It was his turn to grin.

Zevran leaned down and Piras sat up, leaning closer to the rogue, their lips mere inches apart. “Do you think Alistair would let you borrow his crown?”

“To wear during sex?” Piras let out a small, short laugh. “I think he’d rather face another Blight.”

Zevran laughed before covering that distance, pressing his lips to Piras’. The Warden cupped the back of Zevran’s neck with a hand and gently but eagerly pulled the rogue closer. He wanted to pull Zevran on top of him and do more than just kiss, but he was fairly certain that Alistair might banish him if he did anymore on his throne.

When Zevran pulled away, Piras sighed.

“Throne not comfy?”

Piras put on his best cheeky grin. “There are other things I’d rather sit on.”

“Things?”

He tried his best to keep the grin but it wavered and the rogue noticed. He sat back in the throne and reached up, fiddling with the earring Zevran had given him. He wasn’t normally one for absentminded fidgets or nervous habits. Zevran leaned back against the throne’s side, resting some of his weight on the arm and looking to the side at the mage.

“Troubled, Amor?” Zevran asked, though he didn’t necessarily need to. He’d learned early on the Warden’s tells. And he knew that Piras didn’t like other people seeing him upset – Zevran was the only person who was always the exception. With their mutual friends, it depended on who was around and what was upsetting him.

Piras hesitated. His eyes locked onto Zevran’s, his tone serious when he spoke. “Who am I without the Blight?”

Zevran frowned, confused. “You’re a Warden-Commander. Most importantly – you’re the man I love.”

He wasn’t going to argue that. That was in fact his new title and Zevran did in fact love him. He reached forward and took Zevran’s hand in his own. Still, he felt troubled.

“I never lived in the Circle,” he admitted, his voice becoming small, vulnerable. “At least not really. I’d thought I was living but… I don’t think a caged life is actually a life.” He stared at their hands, their fingers laced together. “Then there was the Blight. That took up practically my whole life. There was little I did that wasn’t because of that fucking Blight.” He sighed again. “And now it’s over… And I can do whatever I want – Whatever the fuck I want! For once in my life!”

Zevran brought his hand up, placing a soft kiss against his knuckles, silently encouraging him to continue.

Piras found himself hesitating again, afraid to admit what they both knew. “And I… I don’t know what I want to do.”

“Not everything has to be planned,” Zevran pointed out.

Piras rested his head back against the throne. “I know.”

They watched each other in silence for a moment, ignoring any footsteps that meant a servant or a noble was passing by – perhaps Alistair or Namera were looking for them but saw the two of them, staring at each other, and decided to let the moment last longer uninterrupted.

“I do know one thing for sure,” Piras admitted, breaking the silence finally.

Zevran couldn’t help smiling eagerly. “And what is that?”

“Wherever I go, whatever I do,” Piras sat up, smiling affectionately at the man he loved. “I want you by my side.”

Zevran leaned down, resting his forehead against Piras’. “And wherever I go, whatever I do, I want you by my side, Amor.”

Piras felt his heart skip a beat. “Deal.”

#zevwarden week #zevran arainai #zevran x warden #zevran x surana #dragon age #c: piras surana #s: dragon age #v: dual dragon age #ship: piras/zevran #my writing #oc #fanfic #*mine

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amercsmemoirs · 7 years

Text

For ZevWarden Week Day 4: AU, I’m posting the first chapter of my Denerim University AU!!!

(also, thank you to @tallmansions and @sistercyborg for reading through my chapters and helping me with edits!!! i literally wouldnt have gotten this far without their help!!)

Chapter 1: Friday

Allura Mahariel lay in her bed, ends of her pillow pressed against her ears in frustration. She’d tried to block it out - really, she had - but somehow squeezing her eyes shut just made the moaning and rhythmic thumping from next door twice as bad. With a groan, she turned to her side to check the time - big mistake; it was 2:17am. She groaned even louder; she had a Grey Wardens meeting at 7:30am. She turned to her side to see Fen’or, her chocolate brown mabari hound, sleeping soundly. She’d always thought he could sleep through anything.

Finally giving up on the idea of ignoring this, she threw off the corners and flung her legs over the edge of the bed. Once she located a pair of boxershorts, she pulled them on and stretched a bit. At that, she heard a confused whine behind her and smiled softly at him as he stared her down, concern obvious in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, da’fen, I just need a word with Melody,” she explained, and walked out the door.

The night air nipped at her extremities as she attempted to rub the goosebumps out. She wasn’t wearing a bra, but decided crossing her arms would be fine. She knocked a few times and waited, arms over her chest. As soon as the door opened, she began the speech she had to tell her neighbor last time this happened.

“Melody, please remember our bedrooms - “

“Who?”

That voice was too deep to belong to Melody. Allura had to squint a little - her eyesight wasn’t the best without her contacts - and saw an elf with shoulder length blonde hair, slightly out of breath, with brown skin that glistened in the moonlight. And he was shirtless. Allura watched his muscles tense as he pushed his hair back and leaned against the door frame, flexed and slightly bulging, but not too muscular like Alistair; maybe he was a rogue? She looked at his face to find him smirking, obviously pleased to find her staring at his chest.

“Enjoying the view?” He chuckled amusedly. “Melody speaks of you fondly enough. Perhaps she wouldn’t mind - “

“No, that’s alright, really,” Allura interrupted. “Melody mentioned me?”

“Ah, yes. She said to apologize for forgetting to move her bed. She is otherwise… unable to get to the door and apologize in person.”

Allura rolled her eyes at his self-satisfied smirk but decided not to comment.

“It’s fine,” Allura continued. “We just have a Grey Wardens meeting in a few hours and I have three classes after that - “

“Ah, then, I will accommodate your needs immediately. My apologies; I’d no idea you were such a devoted student.”

She eyed his sly smile suspiciously; it exuded confidence and more than a little arrogance, as if he knew something that she didn’t. There was something she just couldn’t trust behind his alluring Antivan accent; something cunning under his coy smirk. She was just too tired to analyze his phrasing for now.

“Thank you, uh… ?”

“You may call me Zevran, Allura Mahariel,” he answered automatically.

“Right. Zevran. Thank you for cooperating.”

“Of course, of course,” he replied cheerfully. “By the way, you have excellent taste in boxers,” he added with a smirk.

She glanced down at her own plaid grey, white, and purple pattern and then at his plaid black, white, and green pair. She frowned.

“Good night, Allura Mahariel.” He bade her farewell with a chuckle as they both returned to their rooms.

As she crossed her room to her bed, she pondered where she’d heard his name before. After it didn’t come to her right away, she shrugged it off. With a yawn, she settled in besides Fen’or, who was still sleeping peacefully. As charming and charismatic as he was, she doubted she’d have much to do with him outside of tonight.

*~ Friday, 6:28am

Allura stirred awake from a dreamless sleep two minutes before her alarm, as usual, and ran through her mental checklist. Luckily, she had been smart enough to pack her class bag for the day the night before; now she just needed to change, maybe eat breakfast, and prep Fen’or for the kennel. She had to double check to be certain her bag had the notebooks for her proper classes and her wallet had enough sovereigns for lunch. And -

Her alarm clock interrupted her train of thought and she grumbled as she got out of bed.

“Fen’or, it’s time to get up,” she said with a yawn. He ignored her at first; it wasn’t until she called his name a second time after changing into dark jeans and a hoodie that he even whined in response.

“Fen’or,” she said more sternly, putting on her shoes. This time he got up, slowly as possible, and stretched as he made his way off her bed.

“Fen’or, collar.” Allura put her hair in a bun, ignoring the short strands that preferred to hang in her face. The hairstyle showed off her unpierced, elven ears that were straight and tall, even for a Dalish elf. She glanced at her earlobes and imagined herself with earrings; maybe smalls hoops or studs. Something inconspicuous. She pushed the thought out of her mind for now and turned towards Fen’or.

Sleepy but obedient, the mabari strolled to the stool Allura turned into his nightstand and brought his collar and leash to her. Then he sat, tail wagging slowly, expecting a treat to be pulled from her dresser and thrown to him.

Allura couldn’t hold back her smile but couldn’t praise him yet.

“Fen’or, jacket.”

He whined loudly, but retrieved the vest from his nightstand. All the Grey Warden mabari had to wear their blue and grey vests with the Grey Warden symbol on the back. And he hated it with a passion. She tried everything to get him used to it - different fabric, bigger vest, treats whenever he wore it - but she just couldn’t change his mind.

She sighed somewhat affectionately. “I know you hate it, da’fen. Bear with it, please?”

She fastened him into the vest and attached the leash as he whined again. Taking the bait, she tossed him a piece of nug hide from her dresser, which he chewed on triumphantly.

Allura shrugged her shoulder bag on; sovereigns for lunch, notebooks for class, throwing knives, pens and pencils. She opened the door and was met with a round, freckled face and full figure leaning against the railing, with an equally nonchalant tan and brown mabari at her feet.

“Melody?” Allura called out. Her neighbor’s head shot up as she was startled out of sleep. The mabari - Bandit - looked up and wagged her tail. Allura smiled affectionately.

“Allura!” Melody pushed herself off the railing and threw herself onto her neighbor. Allura caught her out of habit, despite being a few inches shorter. She patted her sleepy friend’s back as she yawned into her shoulder.

“You’re up much earlier than normal,” Allura teased. It was 7:15am, which was routine for her; Melody, however, rarely made it out of bed before 9am.

“Don’t we have a Grey Warden meeting or whatever?” Melody yawned again, back on her own two feet, and stretched. Allura rolled her eyes and knelt to scratch Bandit behind her ears. Fen’or bumped his head against her hand as he nuzzled Bandit.

“Yes, I’m sure your dozens of absences and tardies prove you care so much about our meetings,” Allura replied. “You don’t even have a bag with you.”

It was true; Melody was wearing a pink tank top and a yellow and blue plaid skirt, but no backpack or shoulder bag in sight. Actually, Allura thought suddenly, why is she wearing a skirt in this weather? We went shopping before the summer ended, and she should have jeans to wear. Melody pouted.

“I don’t have class until 11! I’m not gonna carry a bag with me to the meeting. I’m just gonna go back to sleep afterwards.”

With a small shake of her head, Allura grabbed Fen’or’s lead and began walking to the Grey Wardens building in the center of campus. Melody scrambled to grab Bandit’s lead as her mabari followed and skipped to catch up to Allura, linking arms when she did.

“So anyway, Allura, about last night -”

“Oh, that’s right,” Allura interrupted. “What happened to him? Shouldn’t he be in your room or something?”

“Zevran? No, he left maybe half an hour after you talked. You didn’t hear him leave? But really, I wanted to apologize about keeping you up,” Melody continued in a small voice.

Allura squeezed her friend’s arm. Melody Cousland was the teyrn’s only daughter - and the youngest at that - spoiled and impulsive. Allura’d had no idea if they’d get along when they first met, but thanks to Melody’s persistence, became fast, if somewhat unbelievable, friends.

“You’re fine, Melody,” Allura told her. “Maybe I overreacted. Is that normal though? Leaving right after…”

“For Zevran, sure. He’s not the cuddling type. Unlike myself, who needs soo much affection!” Melody leaned down to place her head on Allura’s shoulder.

“Why don’t you tell Alistair that? I’m sure he’d really appreciate the info.” Allura smirked as Melody straightened, face reddening.

Looking away, she mumbled, “He’s not the only one who should, you know…”

Allura never understood why she mumbled around her so often; She was an elf, of course she heard-

Her brows furrowed as she paused and looked at Melody’s pouting face. “What do you mean -”

“Allura, Melody, hey!”

They turned at the sound of their names and were greeted by a giant of a human, Ezekiel Amell, holding the door of the Grey Warden Mabari kennel open, likely after dropping off his mabari, Joker. At 6’4’’, Ezekiel towered over the 5’3’’ elf and her 5’7’’ friend, but neither were ever intimidated or afraid of the long haired giant. Dark skin, long dread locs, a dazzlingly white smile, and cheekbones that could cut through armor made Ezekiel one of the most popular people on campus. With his easy smiles and friendly attitude, he made friends and acquaintances easily, and they became friends days after meeting during the first Grey Warden meeting.

Allura thanked him for holding the door and she and Melody walked their dogs to the counter. The lobby was was small, with a few Mabari-friendly flowers here and there, and the building itself wasn’t all that impressive. Allura knew from experience though, that the real attraction to this place was the 5 acres used to train and house the Mabari while their Wardens were in class or off campus.

The student working the kennel this week was a dwarven girl, maybe a year or two older than Allura, and greeted the pair with a smile. As she reached for Fen’or and Bandit’s leads, Allura noted that her small stature would make it very easy for the Mabari to lead her around instead; luckily, she didn’t know of a Mabari ill-behaved enough to do it. The girl walked the Mabari to the back, and Melody and Allura met up with Ezekiel, who was talking with some students.

“Oh, I’ll catch up with you later,” Ezekiel told the students as he saw Allura and Melody exit the building. “We’ve gotta get going. Text me later though, yeah?” He grinned, and the two students smiled back and waved to the three of them as they continued to class.

“Joker misses you two, you know,” Ezekiel began as the three of them walked to the Warden’s training grounds. He shoved his hands into his black jeans. “We should go for a run or something this weekend.”

“Unassigned running? On the weekend? Count me out,” Melody declined.

“What, you got a hot date?” Ezekiel joked.

“Yeah, with my bed.”

“I’ll go running with you, Ezekiel,” Allura chimed in over his laughter.

“Cool,” he responded. “Let’s meet up at the entrance around 8am.”

Allura nodded in agreement as she held the training gate open for her friends. The Warden’s Training Grounds were split into three sections: dense forest, flatlands, and hills. Dual wielding rogues, warriors, and archers preferred their respective areas, but they often rotated so the environment would never be a disadvantage. Mages trained at Fort Draken usually, but the Grey Warden mages trained with the other Grey Wardens. Allura’s personal favorite section was the dense forest; she hated the flatlands.

“Hey guys, over here!”

Allura, Melody, and Ezekiel were waved down by Alistair Theirin, a fellow Grey Warden in training. He was in the middle of the training grounds, chatting with a few other Wardens. Allura nodded to them as they approached Alistair.

“Good morning, Allura, Zeke. Melody, you’re up early.” Alistair grinned at his pouty friend. “Did Allura finally drag you out of bed?”

“I’ll have you know, Alistair,” Melody began, hand on hip, “I was awake bright and early on my own.”

Alistair gasped. “Maker, the Blight is coming.”

Melody smacked his arm as he laughed. “I can’t believe I dragged myself out of bed and walked through the cold to get mocked by you, of all people.” She rubbed her arms vigorously.

“Yes, yes, woe is the Warden who has to walk through the cold.” Alistair unzipped his hoodie, shrugged it off, and handed it to her.

Melody was taken aback by his gesture. “What about you?”

“I am not the one in a skirt this early in the morning.” He draped his hoodie around her shoulders.

Melody’s cheeks puffed - Allura knew her friend was trying not to show that she was blushing - and muttered thank you. Alistair grinned in response.

“GREY WARDENS, STAND READY!”

All the students on the field looked up and saw Duncan Highever, striding towards them from the main building. Hurriedly, they all lined up on the field’s designated spaces.

Duncan flipped through the papers on his clipboard and paced as he began roll call. As he began calling out names, Allura caught someone creeping into the lineup from the corner of her eye while Duncan’s back was to the both of them.

Sierra Tabris, a city elf with droopy ears, had been coming uncharacteristically late to meetings for a few weeks. She was short, only up to Allura’s shoulders, and unusually stocky for an elf. Allura met her during a university tour over the summer, and it was her first time meeting an elf that was uninterested in learning Elven. Sierra was a warrior, sword and shield, and Allura was always impressed how she could stand her own against others twice her size. She was brash and a little reckless, but also punctual.

“Tabris! Late again?” Duncan hadn’t turned around, but must have noticed her somehow.

“Yes, sir.” Sierra’s voice was low and clear.

“See me after the meeting,” was Duncan’s response. Sierra nodded curtly and that was it.

“Grey Wardens,” Duncan began, addressing everyone in attendance. “You may remember last week’s tournament victory against the Orlesian Bards.” He paused to allow a short cheer from the more enthusiastic Wardens. “Our wardens, Allura Mahariel, Melody Cousland, Sierra Tabris, and Ezekiel Amell secured the Team Win against Orlais.”

The Wardens cheered again, a few nudging the aforementioned wardens on their backs. Allura forced a smile as Carver Hawke grinned and lightly patted her back.

“Next Wednesday, the doubles fight will be against the Tevinter Magisters, and we’ll be relying on Ezekiel Amell and Sierra Tabris to take us to the finals.” Duncan looked at them both meaningfully, perhaps with pride, and continued. “Make sure you all stay ahead of the curve. We have training days all weekend and next week, so attend if you’re feeling… sluggish. And don’t forget,” he added, “we have four exchange students from the Antivan Crow Program joining us for the remainder of the semester. Although they’ve already missed the first match, they will be observing our team to prepare to join the tournament next year. I expect all of you to be courteous and welcoming to our guests, and to show you’ve earned your title of Ferelden Grey Warden.”

Duncan nodded, the Wardens sounded off, and Duncan dismissed them and left. Ezekiel, Melody, Sierra, and Allura met up as the rest of their group dispersed. Some people were still congratulating them for their win.

“Sucks you got caught again, Sierra,” Melody began, stifling a yawn. Alistair’s jacket was still draped around her shoulders. “What’re you even doing all the time?”

“Yeah, Tabris, talk to us,” Ezekiel joined in.

Sierra’s eyebrows furrowed together and she looked at the grass. Allura knew she was feeling nervous and conflicted, not nearly as angry as she looked.

“I… was…,” Sierra began, crease lines deepening, “I was birdwatching.”

Allura exchanged a look between Melody and Ezekiel.

“Birdwatching?” she repeated.

“Yeah,” she responded slowly, as if wondering to herself whether it checked out. “I like to watch… songbirds.”

“Songbirds?,” Ezekiel echoed.

“Yes. Nightingales. They… only come out at night. Which is why… they’re called nightingales.”

Sierra avoided eye contact while the other three looked confused and bewildered.

Before any of them could continue questioning her, Duncan’s voice called out for Sierra to follow him to his office. Sierra sighed, relieved.

“Thank the Maker,” she muttered under her breath. “I’ve - I gotta go.”

She grinned somewhat sheepishly as she raced off to follow Duncan.

“I think that’s the first time she’s ever lied in her life,” Melody stated, only somewhat jokingly.

“Yeah. She’s not good at it.” Ezekiel chuckled.

“She’ll tell us when she’s ready,” Allura said. She didn’t see the need to speculate about what her friend is doing every night. As long as she wasn’t getting injured.

“True,” Ezekiel began with a grin. “But will I tease her mercilessly until she confesses? Probably.”

“Don’t go overboard,” Allura retorted with a quirked eyebrow. “I’ve got to get to class. I’ll see you both later.”

“I’m going back to sleep,” Melody said, gripping Alistair’s jacket.

“You should definitely wear jeans when it’s this cold, Melody.” Ezekiel smirked at her. She stuck out her tongue in response.

“See you later, Allura. Text me after class!” Melody waved as Allura turned to leave. Allura waved back and walked to the main building for her first class of the day: engineering.

*~ Friday, 3:34pm

Allura, finished with classes for the day, sauntered out of the building back towards her room. She breathed in the air; she hated being in the building for so long. There were so many people, so many things happening at once; it was hard to find a quiet place to sit and think. But outdoors, even with the same number of people, she felt less trapped. It was easy to see who’s nearby and what they’re doing; like the couple sitting in the grass across the way, the person standing behind the tree, the group of students exiting the building -

“Allura Mahariel! How nice to see you again.”

She turned to the person behind the tree - and frowned. Zevran Arainai. She should have recognized the drawl.

“... Zevran Arainai.”

“How was class? I hope you weren’t too tired.”

He was smiling, maybe sincerely, but she didn’t smile back. If anything, her frown deepened. He seemed amused.

“I was fine. Nothing out of the ordinary happened.”

“Good, good! I’m glad.”

The smile continued.

“Did you… need something?,” she asked, not hiding her confusion.

“Oh, nothing at all! Wanted to check in.”

“Right then.”

She turned to walk away but then another question popped into her head. She turned back to him.

“Oh? Are we not finished talking?”

She ignored the bait. “How do you know Melody?”

Zevran’s eyebrows raised briefly, but then he crossed his arms and laughed it off.

“I met her yesterday, after I landed on campus. I am here through the Antivan Exchange program,” he explained. “I arrived earlier than my peers, and she was kind enough to… keep me company.”

That would check out, Allura thought. Melody has always loved meeting new people. But why would he be here earlier than everyone else?

“I see. In that case, I wish you luck during your stay with us.”

She nodded curtly, which made him chuckle, and continued her stroll back to her dorm room.

Disregarding that interaction, she could continue her day normally; study, train, pick up Fen’or, make dinner, sleep. She should invite Melody over for dinner, see if she can find out what happened to her jeans. It was more than a little suspicious that this happened right after Zevran stayed the night. It was something to look into.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#ZevWarden week 2017 #zevran arainai #modern AU #dragon age origins #allura mahariel #Melody Cousland #sierra tabris #ezekiel amell #ive been sitting on this for like!!!#two years!!#and ive finally finished enough to post some of it #im on ch 4 now but uhhh idk what the posting schedule will be hahaha #anyway uhhh #enjoy

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