#are you ready for zev to be... not scared

[poetryvampire]

Imagine, if you will

Knight!Zevlor accompanying Royal!Reader on a journey (bonus angst points if Reader is being sent to their betrothed and the story ends with A Choice™ to be made)

How often do they have to huddle together for warmth on the cold road?

When their hands accidentally touch, do they embrace the affection or shyly pull away from each other?

Will Zevlor be a gentleman and offer one of his shirts for Reader to sleep in, despite the pang of longing it strikes in his heart to see them in his shirt, their eyes bleary and hair unmade from sleep?

And most importantly when they approach the destination, how desperate are the two to stay together? Is Reader resigned to their fate or are they plotting a way to ride off into the sunset with their beloved commander? More importantly, will Zevlor allow them to "throw away their future" (or something along those lines) for a "soldier well past his prime"?

(hi forgive me for barrelling into your asks with this, I just also have Hellrider Knight Brainrot)

OMG NO PLS if anything we need to spread this. I need more knight! Zevlor like I need air! I'm such a sucker for any medieval courtly love bullshit. Anything that feels like it could have one of those trashy (lovingly) painted covers

Okok but oh I love these. Such an A+ set up with so many great situations

I swoon so hard for romantic angst so let's say yes Zevlor's losing his mind taking his beloved royal Reader to meet their betrothed they're being forced to marry.

A cold night on the road? Just imagine how warm Zevlor would be. Especially to a non tiefling. Reader just wanted to get a little closer, until they find out he's a walking space heater and then they cling to him (the perfect excuse). The proud knight's never been so red, so flustered, has no idea what to do with his hands. Worst still he's so comfortable they fall asleep right on him!

Zevlor started to live for the simple intimacy of brushing hands, keeping warm, the basics of going through the day. As time goes on he starts to let his hands linger. Maybe even link with theirs for a moment. Perhaps leaning into the warmth cuddles too. Such little things but he like taking a second to relish in the closeness. To dream of Reader actually being his. It's torture but he just can't help it.

AND WEARING HIS SHIRT. woof omg. He does it of course but it cuts deeper than he thought. They've fallen asleep beside each other (again) and Zevlor wakes first. Seeing them peaceful wrapped in his clothes is too much to bare. In a perfect world he'd wake to that sight everyday. Reader even reaches out for him in their sleep, missing him instantly.

OHH THE DESPERATION the closer they get the worse it is. One of them is making a teary eyed confessing for sure. Either way I feel like Reader is begging to be carried off into the sunset, ready to give up a life of comfort for love. But Zevlor's still going to need A LOT of convincing. It's one thing for them to throw away their future but for an older man? And a tiefling at that? not only would he not be able to give them as good a life but surely theyd face prejudice for being with a hellspawn. The guilt is overwhelming. Zevlor does his best to convince Reader to at least meet their betrothed, despite the clear heartbreak on their face. He's sure that once they meet their lordy husband to be they'll forget all about him.

Of course that's not the case, but it does wonders for changing Zevlor prospective. Once they arrive, through all the pleasantries Reader keeps a smile but Zevlor can tell they're miserable. There's a shine in their eyes that seems to have gone out and Zevlor's left to realize that the depth of their feelings for him may actually be true.

But what if we turned up the angst a bit?

Imagine if Reader's betrothed is absolutely brute? Upon meeting he's rude and belittling to them, even has a bit of a threatening aura that's clearly making Reader uncomfortable. Now theyre scared as well as unhappy. And it breaks Zevlor's heart. The knight is Not having it. The plan is out the window in moments, he's not leaving their side for a second. He's fully determination to get them out of this, ridding into the sunset or not.

However it does carve a path for Zevlor to except Reader's love. All this time he's been so focused on everything he can't give them instead of what he can, such as making them feel loved, happy and safe.

Reader's crying in their room that night when there's a knocking at their window and -as if their wildest dreams have come ture- it's their knight in shining armor at the rescue. Zevlor gets down on one knee, and pledges a new oath to them and their future.

Ahhh I'm kicking my feet and giggling now just thinking about it omg 🥰✨️💜✨️

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Fic title ask game: when they don't believe (i hope they see you in me)

Yes, it's a song lyric, yes I'm the most basic bitch, but thoughts?

This feels way to much like Izuku begging people see All Might in him but I also like the idea of an Isekai. And then my brain goes to the prompt I sent to @dark-elf-writes

Izuku who was raised by the Warden and their love interest standing tall. Struggling to show the good qualities his parents had. Begging for people to see the heroes he was raised by when he's scared.

Just Izuki, chin lifted and ready for battle at UA facing down the LOV and the Nomu, thinking about his parents stories.

Just someone trying their hardest, trying to be inspiring. Hoping others see that to.

Pairings: I am leaning towards Zevran/Warden because that kinda chaos is beautiful. Izuku raised by Zev would be so much fun. I also like the idea of Izuku/DekuSquad which I'm on a roll with but it sounds cute.

[heylavellan]

Happy Friday and welcome to DADWC! How about "I’ve never been more certain of anything than I am of us, even in the middle of all this chaos." for Zevran/Warden? ✨

I mushed these two together! They work nicely. @lasatfat

Fic beneath the cut! Spoilers for post-landsmeet. World state is a bit vague but you know. Anyway, fic beneath the cut!

It was a risky plan, but Ramsay knew it was the best option they had. "You're sure you can set that up within two minutes?" they checked, rubbing their forehead. Zevran was talented, sure, but there were still limits to what he was capable of.

A warm hand cupped her cheek, causing their eyes to glance at the elf it belonged to. "You know me, I can last two minutes or practically an eternity," he teased, before planting a kiss on her cheek. Of course Zevran would think of their favourite pastime. And he could last quite long if he needed to... A soft chuckle pulled Ramsay's mind out of the gutter. They grabbed his hand, squeezing it once before letting go.

"Well, I need you to be done in two minutes. As attractive as your smear would be, I doubt it would be as skilled a masseuse as I'm going to need after this," she sighed. She gestured to a few folk behind them to bring a selection of items and spat out orders to the remaining folk.

As Zevran took the proffered items, he shot a twisted grin toward his partner. "Two minutes. I still plan on ravaging you in celebration," he chirped, before seemingly melding into the shadows. Ramsay hated how he could do that, just disappear before your eyes. It was, frankly, unsettling.

So they started counting. Fifteen seconds pass. Thirty. Then on forty-five they heard the first explosion and a surge of mist in the air. Ramsay slid her blades out of their sheathes as they counted under their breath.

Sixty seconds heralded the cry of an ogre. Shit. If it got to Zev before he could finish laying traps and planting explosives, he wouldn't make it out alive. But the other attackers at the gate were relying on him, Alistair was relying on him, and so were most of the people of Denerim.

By seventy-five seconds, Ramsay was itching to attack. The first few darkspawn were pouring through destroyed buildings and the damaged walls. Not enough though. The horde needed to come, and the call of their blood wasn't enough with the overwhelming song of the archdemon. Zevran was nowhere to be seen, but the explosions seemed to be drawing nearer.

She knew her archers had itchy trigger fingers as more hurlocks and genlocks started to filter into the clearing. More than anything she wanted to plunge her daggers into them and watch them bleed. But only ninety seconds had elapsed and she had left her impatience in the ruins of Highever. She signalled them to ready their bows.

Ramsay glanced over their shoulder to assess how much damage the other squads had taken. They were faltering back, and the warden was all too aware of how little time they had. One hundred and five seconds had passed and she needed Zevran to show in fifteen. She squinted, trying to make out any sign that he was alive.

Two minutes. Ramsay couldn't find Zevran and darkspawn weren't entering the clearing fast enough to warrant an assault. More than anything, her mind screamed to charge anyway. He had to be there, had to come back. Had to be at their side when they slew the archdemon. Yet she couldn't sacrifice Denerim for Zevran. As much as she wanted to.

She jumped at an arm wrapping itself around her shoulders. "Andraste's firm ass cheeks, don't scare me like that. We nearly left," Ramsay growled, slapping the person suddenly at her side. Even in the clamour of battle, they know it's Zevran based on the shape of his armour. "You need to get better with timing."

"Archers, forty five! Draw!" she shouted. The arm on her shoulders withdrew, likely to pull out his swords. They felt hands rummaging on their belt, a few quiet words explaining her acid coating was being swapped for fleshrot. Additional health poultices were slid into boots and pockets, before he kissed her cheek.

Any response Ramsay gave was drowned out by simultaneous explosions. Tainted bodies flooded into the clearing, scrambling into traps and tripping over one another. Zevran ignited a flare as Ramsay's lieutenant ordered the archers to fire. "Got my back?" Zevran asked, rocking on his toes as he prepared to dash into battle.

"Always. For some reason I trust an assassin with watching my back in battle," they confirmed before initiating the melee. Their unit was outmatched, but the flare should rally nearby units to their location.

In the thick of battle was where Ramsay felt most safe. No worrying about courtly manners or upsetting Father's allies. No distressing their parents over the lack of a suitable match. And definitely no concern over saying the right thing. Those things made battle easy, but their assassin, their Crow, their Zevran? Zevran parried the blows she couldn't see and would treat the wounds he couldn't block, the same as she did for him. They fought as one.

They wanted it no other way. The two of them cleared a path to the gates of Denerim, with the help of converging troops. As they broke through the gates, Zevran and Ramsay managed to pull aside, for a moment alone.

"How are you doing my love? Surely, you're not tired already," he smirked, pulling Ramsay into a tight hug. Blood and guts were spattered on his face. They took one of the larger chunks out of his hair and smeared away some of the drops running down his face. They never got a good look at him in battle, and if he was half as attractive as he was in the aftermath the pair would never get any fighting done.

They place a hand on his chest and nestle their head in the crook of his neck. "We're just getting started. We haven't made it to the good bits," she responded, enjoying the heat radiating off him. They traced the ornamentation on his breast. Zev hummed and pressed a kiss into their hair.

Ramsay kissed his neck before leaning back to look him in his eyes. "I hope you know when we're in battle I trust you with my life," they sighed. She focused on his lips, wanting to kiss him senseless. But now wasn't the time or place.

"And I you. When I feel your blade slide by and stab someone I miss, that's when I am most sure about us. Even in the chaos, you're there," Zev responded huskily. They see a look in his face, one that suggested he desired them carnally. A look that also knew that their enjoyment of each other would have to wait.

They knew he craved battling alongside them. But to fight an archdemon, a dragon? She couldn't ask that of him. "I don't want to lose you," she whispered, a small tremble in her voice. "I might die. You might die. I can't ask you to fight the archdemon with me."

Zevran tightened his grip on them, as if they could be impossibly closer. "I would rather die at your side, knowing I tried to save you. If I lived knowing it might have been different were I at your side..." he urged. His voice cracked, trailing off. "Let me fight with you. That way the ravishing part can come quicker."

Ramsay looked up at the blond elf and nodded. "Okay," they stated.

"Okay?" Zevran responded.

"Together. We'll survive together," they decided, before pulling him into a crushing kiss.

@dadrunkwriting

[wukodork]

I think it's very funny that I decided Zevran and the HoF were mostly good parents and then I stretched the timeline out for maximum kid trauma. (Putting it below a cut bc I know I got friends sensitive to that here)

Kieran and Adelaide were old enough to remember Vigil's Keep being attacked. Warden Tabris chose to save Amaranthine. The kids got separated, and Anders got Adelaide out while Kieran was trapped beneath a wall with Velanna's corpse. (Adelaide was 200% ready to fight all the darkspawn to get her brother, but she's five, and Anders is very afraid of her parents). Zevran found Kieran eventually, but that was just awful for everyone. He was also pissed when he found out that the HoF knew the keep was getting attacked and chose not to go there right away.

I actually have this image of the kids listening at a door while Zev and HoF are fighting about it ("I had a duty" vs "they're not old enough to understand that! All they know is you could have protected them and you didn't!") and someone tries to pull the "eavesdropping is rude" thing, but the kids are like "Actually papa says listening is a very important skill"

"Don't think your Da would want you to hear this"

And then the hard part is figuring out how to split everyone up, y'know? Well, stretched out the timeline so they're teenagers during Inquisition, and in the game, a romanced Zevran leaves with the HoF to find a cure for the Calling.

So they leave. It hurts like he'll but they have enough friends in powerful places that the kids should be okay, maybe even arrange an apprenticeship somewhere/for Adelaide to learn magic with Morrigan.

Except then, the conclave happens, and shit hits the fan. In the chaos, the people who're supposed to support Kieran and Adelaide lose track of them. So, for most intents and purposes, you have a pair of orphans sticking out for each other. But the world is ending, and while she doesn't have formal training, Adelaide is still a mage while Kieran has major abandonment issues. They know their parents will come back if they can, but that's a big if.

Kieran gets in a lot of fights, he's got a lot of anger and no real outlet, but he's big and he knows how to throw a punch (and how to take one before long). Adelaide does a lot of lurking, reading what she can when she can and practicing magic when she's absolutely sure no one is looking.

They argue with each other a lot. Kieran draws too much attention but argues that if people are looking at him, they're not looking at Adelaide. Adelaide takes too many risks, but she hasn't been caught, and besides, she knows how to pick a lock if she does.

Their luck runs out. There's a fight with a Templar that ends with blood pooling in the mud. Kieran gently takes the templar's sword from Adelaide's shaking hands. It's unclear who exactly delt the killing blow, but Kieran is determined to take the blame. He's human and not a mage - any consequences from this will just be for him, while if the templars realize a mage was involved, the whole village could burn. He shoves her into a building and antagonizes the guards that find him. If they're angry, they'll make mistakes. His thoughts are on keeping his sister safe as they knock him out.

Adelaide is picking the lock to his cell when he wakes up, determined to grab him and leave. They can go somewhere, anywhere else. Maybe they'll go to Antiva, Papa always talked about Antiva.

Kieran talks her out of it. He's pretty sure the dead templar's friends would come after them, and he's got it in his head that sacrificing himself to protect Adelaide is how he can prove that he's worth something. The last part goes unsaid, an ugly could that grows at the worst times.

"Ada?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm scared."

"Me too."

"Can you stay for a bit? Until morning?"

Adelaide finds a spot in the ceiling and stays there all night. But in the morning she can't bear to watch the hanging.

She misses the warden that recognizes Kieran's eyes. That invokes the right of conscription to buy Morrigan and Alistair's son a little more time. Kieran begs the warden to let his sister know he's okay. He knows most people die during the Joining he's watched the ritual before, but the warden just promises he can write Adelaide if he survives the Joining.

He does, but she's long gone by the time the letter arrives. Maybe things will be better in Antiva.

[drakeanddice]

Help me choose my party (2/3) I am—and by extension, you are— heading to Chiron’s Doom. I cannot go alone. The game will not let me. Despite my misgivings about all of these strange rakehells, forlorn souls, mad-eyed seekers, and horrible blorbos of sundry makes and models, I cannot make the journey alone. For slot 2 of 3, do I take:

Zev Sevens, Spear Sergeant late of the 17th Grasshound Irregulars. “I fought a Phippoli, and Timus. Saw action on the Breakers Bay and on the walls of Harvonius. I was there when the ground splintered in Arvenne and the army of Cherne was swallowed by the darkness. Good friends of mine fell into the void where Chiron’s Doom stands today, and we made a promise. Our bones would come home, no matter what.”

Soto Voce, The Last of The Smoke Angels. “I’m not going to mince words with you, seeker. I figure there’s enough lies about Chiron’s Doom that I don’t need to add to them. It’ll be trapped. It’ll be locked. It’ll be hard going. People will die. Wouldn’t you rather avail yourself of the expertise of the best damned tomb breaker to ever walk the world? Or are you going to let the fact that all of my associates died screaming poison that well? They put their feet wrong, leapt before they looked, trusted when they should’a scrutinized. You ain’t an idiot, are you?”

Wee Otto, A Child. “Mum and Da went West already and they’re never coming back. I was too small to go with them. I was too scared. But I’m ready to grow up now. I’m tired of being little and I’m tired of people looking at me like you’re looking at me now. I can do this. I just need someone to give me the chance. Please? I don’t eat much and I’ll keep quiet. And hey, I can do tricks!”

[m-m-m-myysurana]

Candlelight Whispers

ZevWarden Week Day 4

Read it on Ao3

Written for the Opening Up prompt, but it also fits pillow talk a little bit hehe

@lesbianarcana​ Can’t thank you enough for putting up with all of my last minute beta begging and obsession with ellipses. You’re amazing <3

Zevran watched from his spot by the fire as Neria paced around the camp, staring out into the dark. It was freezing; she was stamping her feet and blowing on her gloved hands, but she stayed carefully out of the light of the fire, and he guessed it was to hide her expression from their companions. 

She’d left the decision of what to do with the Urn of Sacred Ashes to Genitivi, but Zevran knew her too well to believe she’d relinquished all responsibility. Neria would take the blame if revealing the urn’s location turned out to be the wrong decision.. It was clearly weighing on her. She was always unsure, but refused to let even a hint of it show. 

Zevran got to his feet in one smooth movement and walked towards her, making no effort to quiet his steps. 

He thought perhaps he could tempt her into her tent, away from the gaze of the others. Allow her to let her mask down and distract her.

A chill ran down his spine as the warmth of the fire fell away, replaced by cold shadow. Neria’s ear twitched and she turned her head just slightly towards him, indicating she had heard him approach. He slid his arms around her waist to embrace her, halting her uneasy movement. Neria let out a breath, leaning back into his warmth as he gently moved her hair to one side and tucked his head in by her neck. 

“What was it you said earlier?” he murmured, as he trailed kisses under her jaw. “Dread Wolf take you? I am no wolf—nor, I hope, am I dreaded—but I’d be more than willing to take you.” 

He smoothed his hand over her abdomen, expecting her usual laugh or playful swat, but she didn't react.

“Do you think they’ll work?” she murmured.

Zevran paused. “What do you mean?”

“The ashes.” Neria glanced back at him, noting his raised eyebrows and confused expression.

“How should I know?” Zevran said, a little too abruptly. He thought it odd that she would choose to talk to him about this particular topic. “The Maker and I aren’t exactly... amigos.” 

Neria’s lips twitched. She’d been laughing at everything earlier in the day, but Zevran realised that it had probably been more out of emotional exhaustion than of seeing any real humour in the situation. She was either going to laugh or cry, so in front of the others it had better be laugh. He hoped that in time, at least when they were alone, she would be able to let that go.

“I never believed in the Maker,” she said quietly. “I believe that Andraste existed, that she led the rising against the Tevinter Imperium. I believe she was killed and became a martyr. But she was a mortal woman. If those truly were her ashes, how could they do anything?” She looked to Zev, but he had as little in the way of answers as she did. He did not claim to know the truth, but such a thing was impossible in his mind. In the temple, he’d seen her cringe visibly at their companions’ unwavering belief in the Urn. His own cynicism had quite possibly been the only thing keeping her sane. 

“Leliana, Alistair and Wynne… they all believe,” Neria said. “They see this discovery as proof of the Maker’s existence. Proof that she was the Maker’s bride, that she became divine... but how is it proof of anything? We found an urn and a busty statue. It could have been anyone’s ashes.” 

She huffed, a sound of exasperation, and Zevran grinned at her irreverence.

“Perhaps Sten was right. Maybe I’m insane. It may have been their faith that directed us here, but it was my decision. I could have said no.” 

Neria lapsed into silence, and not knowing how to respond, Zevran brought his hand to her cheek, stroking the soft skin with his thumb. His fingers traced her jaw, encouraging her to lift her chin until she reluctantly met his gaze. 

“What’s brought this on?” he asked softly, and tucked her hair behind her ear. Neria sighed, slumping, and leaned into his hand before she answered.

“I just don’t know if any of this was worth it. I was hoping that we’d find definitive proof. Either for or against, I wouldn’t have cared. But instead, all we found was a bunch of riddles and unanswerable questions.” She shook her head. “That Guardian asked too much. He hurt you. All of you—and that was my fault.”

“No, mi querida.” Zevran recognised the guilt in Neria’s face—he’d seen the same expression before. Always blaming herself for the actions of others, even to the point of irrationality. He drew her into his arms, one hand smoothing across her back, and the other carding through her hair.

“That was not your fault. Whoever—or whatever—put that Guardian there is to blame.” 

He cringed a little as he remembered what the guardian had said to her. She had been so young when she’d been separated from her family, and under such awful circumstances. He didn’t know if her past trauma or the recent events were what was affecting her now.

“You were as much a victim of it as the rest of us,” he said into her hair. “I’m sorry about your family. I understand why you have not mentioned them before. But you know I am here should you need to talk, sì?” 

Neria said nothing. After a moment Zevran pulled back, touching his forehead to hers, and looked into her eyes. Under his gaze she smiled and nodded, but he could see she had no intention of taking him up on the offer. She tucked her head back in under his chin and pulled him in tight, effectively hiding herself from his gaze. She was always open to listening when any one of their companions needed to talk, but when any sympathy was aimed in her direction she closed herself off immediately. Something they had in common.

“Who was the woman?” Neria whispered, taking him by surprise. He’d been hoping that she would have forgotten, what with everything else on her mind. Neria had become his closest friend, and more, though there was no real understanding between them. She’d made it clear she cared about him, but Zevran still found himself wondering why she should spare a single thought for his troubles.

“What woman?” he replied carefully. She looked up at him, and a little furrow appeared between her brows as she studied his face.

“The guardian said that you regretted taking one life more than any other.” 

He tried to compose himself under her scrutiny, but found it much harder to erect a wall between them. Harder than he knew it should be.

“I assume you saw her in your vision,” she murmured, tilting her head. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“I—” 

Zevran stopped abruptly, forcing himself to think for a moment. His immediate reaction had been to deflect again—to shut himself off and reject her sympathy. 

But, if he was to be honest—with Neria, and with himself—he had never let go of Rinna and his guilt at the part he played in her death. His vision at the Temple of Sacred Ashes forced him to confront how it was eating him up.

Perhaps it would scare Neria away, Zevran thought, and dropped his gaze. It was strange to fear losing her affection or her respect, but he would only know if he let it out. He sighed and lifted his gaze to hers, finding concern for him shining in her eyes. That one look tore all his defences away, and Zevran felt completely vulnerable for the first time in years. Incredibly, it did not scare him. 

“I suppose it is time,” he said quietly. “You have been a good friend to me, and it has proven impossible to let go of. Maybe speaking it out loud will help.”  

As apprehensive as he was about telling his story, there was no-one else he would ever feel more comfortable with. Still, this wasn’t going to be easy. 

After a long moment of silence, Neria shivered and pulled him in closer. 

“Let’s get out of this damnable cold first, sí?” Zevran said, and felt more than heard Neria’s hum of approval against his chest. She shifted to his side, head on his shoulder. He instinctively pulled her closer, kissing her head as they walked toward the tent. 

They silently got ready for bed. It was strange, helping to relieve Neria of her armour without any intention or expectation of more. It surprised him how natural it felt. She stole his shirt with a grin as soon as he took it off, slipping it over her head before pulling him under the many layers of blankets and furs.

Zevran smiled as Neria tucked herself into the crook of his neck. There was something about seeing her in his shirt, and nothing else, that made his heart glow. He gently traced patterns up and down her back, enjoying the moment, but she pushed herself up onto her elbow and looked down at him expectantly. 

“This isn’t the kind of pillow talk I’m used to,” he teased, hoping to lighten the mood, but she didn’t react other than to smile at him sympathetically. “Where to begin?”

Neria tucked her head under his chin. Her lips brushed against his neck, and his shuddering breath ghosted over her cheek.

“You don’t have to, if it’s too hard,” she murmured, breath warm against his skin. “I don’t want to push you.”

He smiled at her compassion before leaning down to press a kiss to her hair, drawing strength from her as he breathed her in.

“I need to,” Zevran said firmly, and took a deep breath before continuing. “There is a reason I accepted this mission in Ferelden, far away from home, and it had nothing to do with any thought that I might leave the Crows. Meeting you, after all, was quite a wonderful little accident. My last mission before this one… did not end well.

“I have told you before that I was one of only two apprentices who survived their training the year I was recruited?” 

Neria nodded slowly. 

“Well, the other was a human boy by the name of Taliesen. He was strong, stubborn, with one hell of an attitude. He made it through with sheer willpower.” He shook his head fondly at the memory. “What I told you was true. We do not have friends in the Crows, but he was as close to a friend as anything I’d ever had.

“Our first mission we were teamed with a woman named Rinnala. The three of us worked well together. So well, in fact, that the Crows began to treat us as a single unit, sending us on most of our missions as a team. Taliesen was the brawn, Rinna handled most of our planning and information, and I specialised in poisons and seductions.” He paused, breath tightening in his throat, and tried to calm his increasing heartbeat. “We eventually became... involved.”

“You and Rinna?” Neria asked quietly.

“No, the three of us.” For a moment he held his breath as he waited for her to react, but she only nodded again.

“It was an open relationship, of course,” he continued. "Just sex, or at least that’s how it began, but Rinna became special to me in a way that Taliesen was not. She was a marvel—tough, smooth, wicked. Eyes that gleamed like justice. Everything I thought I desired.”

“You fell in love,” Neria murmured. She leaned on his chest, chin on her hands, and regarded him. All he could see in her eyes was curiosity, no judgement, which was a relief. He shrugged a little and shook his head. He didn’t know if what he had felt for Rinna was love.

“I had closed off my heart, I thought, and yet she touched something within me that I didn’t know existed. That frightened me.” 

He swallowed, and she tilted her head in sympathy. He didn’t add that Neria was, even now, touching that same part of him, and had managed to reach even deeper into his soul in the short time he’d known her. He shifted his eyes away from her unyielding gaze as he continued. 

“Back then I was cocky and arrogant. I believed myself to be the best Crow in Antiva, and I bragged of my conquests often, both as an assassin, and lover. One of the Crow masters grew tired of my boasting, and my bid for an incredibly difficult mark was accepted, to my surprise. It was a wealthy merchant with many guards, and his death was to be completely silent. Taliesen and Rinna were with me, of course. 

“When Taliesen revealed to me that Rinna had accepted a bribe from the merchant, told him of our plan, I readily agreed that she needed to pay the price.” He heard Neria gasp quietly, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes. “Rinna begged me for her life, on her knees with tears streaming down her face. She said she hadn’t betrayed us. She told me that she loved me.” He took a sharp breath as her desperate expression flashed in his mind. It was impossible to ignore; he’d seen it again earlier today. “I hardened my heart. I laughed in her face and told her that even if it were true, I didn’t care.”

“But that wasn’t true... was it?” Neria whispered. Her brows furrowed in concern when he looked at her. 

“I convinced myself it was.”

Zevran closed his eyes, trying desperately to block out the memory of Rinna’s face. 

 “Taliesen cut her throat and I watched her bleed as she stared up at me. I… I spat on her for betraying the Crows.” He felt his face crumple in shame. As he struggled to control his expression, Neria reached out to stroke his cheek, pulling him back to the present. He opened his eyes and focused on her for a moment, calming himself before he continued. 

“When Taliesen and I assassinated the merchant, we found the true source of his information. The evidence had been planted. Rinna had not betrayed us after all.” 

He felt her hand freeze, and he looked at her again to see horror and concern warring openly on her face. 

“Someone had wanted her dead. It turned out she was the bastard of some Prince or other, and she was seen as a threat. I wanted to report our mistake, but Taliesen convinced me that it would be a needless waste. He told them that she had been killed in the attempt. We needn’t have bothered. The Crows knew. They had betrayed her through us.”

“Oh Zev…” 

Neria leaned over and pressed her forehead against his. He closed his eyes and breathed her in deeply. She could just be standing in his line of sight and he felt immediately better, but having her close like this soothed his soul, and he didn’t know why. He still had to tell her the worst part, however, and he didn’t know how she would take it. He wasn’t sure he could bear to see her face when he said it. 

Zevran gently pushed her back and sat up. She seemed a little confused, but she just moved to hold him from behind instead.

“You once asked me why I wanted to leave the Crows,” he continued. “In truth, what I wanted was to die.” He felt her stiffen behind him, and her hands slowly withdrew. His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “What better way than to throw myself at not one, but two fabled Grey Wardens?” 

“Zevran, I’m so sorry.” 

Her voice cracked, making him turn to look at her. She reached out to him again, slowly, allowing him time to withdraw—but despite his instincts, he didn’t move.

Her arms came around his neck and she held him tightly. Zevran trembled, unable to stop himself. Pain and relief seeped out of him, like poison being drawn from a wound. He slowly lifted his hands to return her embrace and let out a breath he didn't know he’d been holding. 

“It… feels good to speak of it to someone,” Zevran said, once he could trust his voice again. “I swore to myself I never would.”

Neria leaned her cheek on his shoulder, it felt wet which puzzled him.

“Do you still... want to die?”

Zevran considered the question carefully before pulling away, watching the tears run freely down her cheeks. She was crying—for him? Why exactly, he had no idea. He shook his head firmly and she let out a breath, relief washing over her features.

“What I want is to begin again.” He carefully removed the hair that clung to her cheeks, wet with her tears.  “Whatever it was I sought by leaving Antiva, I think I have found it. I owe you a great deal. Perhaps now you understand how great that debt truly is.” 

She shook her head before lunging in to hug him tightly again.

“You owe me nothing, Zev,” she murmured after a moment. She pulled back and grasped his shoulders, her gaze locked with his. “You did those things yourself. All I did was reach out my hand. You had to choose to take it—and you did. You chose to leave the Crows. You chose to change your life.” 

He smiled, but shook his head. “Be that as it may, I would never have been able to do it without you. Not only did you spare my life, but you restored my will to live it.” 

He kissed her softly, then sat back and gazed at her face in the dim light. It amazed him how compassionate she could be, with everything she’d gone through herself. 

“I wish I could help you in return,” he said quietly. If he could only do for her even a fraction of what she’d done for him.

“You have,” she said, smiling, even as her eyes shimmered with tears. “You’ve been the only thing holding me together this past month, if not longer. I love Alistair and Leli, but there are some things that they will simply never be able to understand. You have no idea how glad I am to have you with me.” 

They lay down together, tucking the blankets around them. She rested her head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her as close as possible.

It was an odd feeling, he thought as they relaxed into the blankets. Like a part of him 

had been hollow for his entire life, and only now was it beginning to be filled.

“Will you stay?” Neria asked, surprising him. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep alone tonight. Plus, it’s freezing.” 

She gave a dramatic shiver, and Zevran chuckled, tugging her closer in answer. He never wanted to leave, so how could he force himself to go back to his own tent when she wanted him to stay? This was a first for him, another line to cross, but he’d started to think that, perhaps, Neria was an exception to all of his rules.

“As you wish, mi vida.”

Read it on Ao3

[te-amozevris]

Whumptober 2020 Ravishing Fenris!

 #prompt 9 Memory Loss  

#prompt 18 Panic at disco

A Quiet Night, just the two of them in Fen’s mansion

“Let’s see how well you handle this, my Wolf lover.” Zev says huskily, kissing the warrior passionately. Both their ears prick and Fenris gasps at first, his green eyes wide then he moans. The smaller elf pushes him against the wall and his fingers glide expertly over the pale hair and the scars at his neck. The other lets his hands explore Zev’s hips. When they feel the mutual heat, pupils dilate Fenris starts unbuckling Zev’s belt.

“Oh I’ve not done this for a very long time.” His voice is just above a whisper and the tattoos illuminate with the stimulation. Each piece of armor comes off, dropping unceremoniously around them. Zev is more tanned naked, dark trails of Crow marks from his chest circling around his abdomen. The other elf responds by kissing down his throat. “Don’t worry, you’re doing well in this.”

With a deep breath, Fenris leans back to control the lyrium. Zev gazes at him in concern, stroking down his chest which is beaded with sweat. Fenris closes his eyes and motions to the couch, somehow without letting go of each other, he tumbles with Zev below him. He smiles ferally and initiates the next bout of hot kisses. The tattoos flare again causing Fen to wince but he doesn’t want to stop.

“Wait, I don’t want you to hurt, querida. Is it too much?” Although reluctant and heady with desire, Zev sits up slowly, as Fenris lies down, arms hugging himself protectively.The lyrium warrior has never spoken about the trauma of his past, though Zevran can see him trembling and rubbing his temples.

He waits quietly, giving him time politely looking askance at the candle on the side.

“No. It’s some flashbacks, my past with.... some people , that ritual, blurred faces. I’m sorry.” Fenris urges him to lie down beside him and recalls internally the other pleasant flashbacks—how Hawke and him had sex, their fights in tandem. But those memories aren’t ready to be shared, because Hawke was his alone. He rides the wave of thrill, joy, then sorrow when she collapsed lifeless. His hands glowing, had he ripped her heart out? No blood, or wound only that she had suffered after effects of the flaring lyrium song. Fenris was screaming and shaking her, then the whiteness overtook the rest. Day of the wake, his friends questioned why didn’t he attend it? Didn’t he care for her to pay final respects?

How can he face them? No one suspected he caused her death, thought it had just been the exhaustion of the final battle and a cardiac arrest.  Zev sees the other’s beautiful eyes fill with crystalline tears, his heart aches.

The tightness around Fen’s chest loosens as he gives in to his raw emotions. He had wanted to confess, especially to Aveline who had been especially kind to him. Fenris just lost his voice and willpower as each year passed. It’s my burden to carry, and I will atone for that. How many times had I contemplated killing myself, to join her? But Varric, Donnic and all of them got  so worried for me. Yes they never left him alone, scared that he’d self harm and do some rash act. Being a mercenary, then asked to be a regular soldier in the barracks eased the agony somewhat. But he didn’t want to date or be with others- women or men. At least he could be vigilant in her memory.

Fenris emerges from his reverie, also remembering he did blurt it out to the precious girl, under his wing. Because Sabriel had been confident his powers wouldn’t hurt friends, her fervent belief that he is a hero and defender of the weak. Guilty of that unspoken demise, or murder? His worry of them letting down their guard, of accidents happening, if the Fade were to possess his Will.  I have to warn them, I may become a danger. That vishante man’s legacy condemning me to a ruthless existence of slaying—

Disobeying, sojourn and being stuck in the Dark hate swirling. But they pale off --- forming smiles, jokes and her small hand touching me assuring me not to worry, it won’t happen. My ledgers are run red and soaked, those can’t be redeemed, not what I did to the Fog Warriors and my dear Hawke. I can’t possibly let these remaining people down. Not when they continue to take care of and have faith in me. So I miss her badly, but I won’t take my life! 

She would have wanted me to live on happily....and his inner turmoil gradually stops churning, becomes a soft simmer. 

Spent and dry of tears, Fenris rubs his face and sniffs. The other elf softly brushes his tears with a silk handkerchief.

They cuddle and kiss. “It’s alright. I am here.” He strokes his trembling companion and waits for him to calm down. What happened inside?

The lyrium elf heaves a sigh, looking up. Although his green eyes have a fatigue sheen, Zevran can tell that he is not disoriented and panicked anymore. Fenris murmurs, “Thank you. I can’t really talk about it, but they were not all nightmares. Had good memories....”

Fenris doesn’t finish the sentence and drifts off to sleep against Zev’s shoulder. Ah, I really did want to hear him, but--- perhaps another time, the Antivan muses. 

The night is getting cold, and they are undressed. Gingerly, Zev unfolds a blanket to cover them both. Fenris flinches from the fabric brushing his sensitive skin, but does not awaken. "Don't worry my love, it's to keep us both warm ok? Relax." He whispers, lying down to admire his slumbering companion. Zevran had his own ritual tattoos as well, but they did not cause lingering chronic pain. He fights a great desire to touch his lover's tatuaje * , but does not want to shatter the delicate trust between them.

It had taken almost a year and more for the shy warrior to feel comfortable disrobing in front of him, and each time, Fenris expressed that others had forced themselves on him so he had deep concerns about sex. So they had just lain in the same bed, exchanging stories until they fell asleep. And in a few hours, Fenris would go back to his own room. Now the Antivan's heart swells with joy. Fenris murmurs in Tevene, rolling back closer to him. Zevran smiles and plants a kiss to his lips.

[wardenari]

"Come and find me." for Ari?

OK, Maker this got away from me and turned into something super long. Sorry about that. Hope you like it:

"Come and find me. -A"

That's all the note from Ari said. Alistair had found it on his door when he awoke this morning. He'd been in a funk since the disastorous reunion with Goldanna the night before. He hadn't even joined the others for cards, preferring instead to hole up in his room and lick his wounds.

Alistair ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. He supposed she was going to try to get him to talk, but he really didn't want to talk. She just couldn't understand, he didn't even fully understand. Fergus may be missing, likely dead, but she at least had happy memories of her brother. They'd cared for each other and loved each other. Goldanna, she saw him as the reason for his misery. Just one more person to blame him for being born, something he'd had no control over. Something sometimes he'd wished hadn't happened.

Still, he knew if he didn't look for her, she'd come looking for him, likely with her temper for him ignoring her request. Since she'd only signed it "A", Alistair was unsure if it was a formal request as the lead Warden, or just a friendly ask as his best friend. When it came to her temper, always better to err on the side of caution.

He headed downstairs to the Gnawed Noble's main room. Looking around the only member from his party he found was Zevran. Alistair tensed a bit. It wasn't exactly that he didn't like Zevran. He just didn't like him with Ari. He knew men like Zevran, and worried that he was a heartache waiting to happen for Arianna. She'd already been through so much, that he couldn't help but want to protect her from more pain if he could. Alistair just didn't see anyway things didn't end in hurt between those two, intentional or not.

"Zev," Alistair nodded to the elf.

"Ah, Alistair," Zevran looked up from the book he read, no doubt something dirty. "Did you sleep well, my friend?"

Alistair shrugged, thankful at least that he wasn't bringing up Goldanna. Zevran had been there for that embarrassment. "Only mildly. Any chance you know where Ari is? She asked me to find her."

Zevran gave him a knowing grin. "I do not, but my lovely vixen did order me to present you with this should you ask."

He handed Alistair a folded piece of paper and a small bag.

"I do so love when she get's bossy," Zevran chuckled as Alistair blushed. He did not need those ideas in his head.

"Yeah, uh thanks," Alistair shuffled away. He opened the sack first, in it was a sweet roll. He sniffed it, cinnoman, his favorite. Alistair bit into the roll, feeling slightly, only slightly, lighter as the sweetness of the roll delighted his tastebuds. He opened the note.

"Did you really think I'd make it that easy for you? Come look for me someplace 'Wonder'ful - A"

Ok, so she it was 'friend' Ari sending him on this quest. That at least took some pressure off. Alistair tried to figure out where she could be. He looked on the back of the note, nothing there. The bag was empty. He read it again, surely there was a clue. He walked as he tried to figure out just what she meant. When he came upon the "Wonders of Thedas" shop he figured the clue out.

The Tranquil behind the front desk watched Alistair as he entered the store. Alistair searched around for the familiar bushy red hair but didn't see his fellow Warden anywhere.  He did, however, see Morrigan. Ugh.

"Morrigan," he nodded as he approached the witch.

"I do not see why you two think we should stop to play games when there is work to be done," Morrigan sighed as only she could and handed him a book and another note. "Be gone. Templars scare away the other mages."

Alistair was all too happy to get away from her. He exited and looked at the book. "Illustrated History of the Grey Wardens". Alistair smiled, but only a little. He put the book in his pack, finding he was feeling eager for when he had time to look through it. He opened the note.

"Sorry. I hope she wasn't too awful to you. I'm still 'Wading' around for you. -A"

Alistair rolled his eyes. Her puns were awful. At least this time he knew where to look, and headed off to Wade's Emporium. It was impossible to not notice Sten when he entered. The Qunari seemed to take up half the room as he looked over the weapons on display. The shopkeep looked more then a little uneasy at the giant in his store.

"Sten," Alistair hoped using his name might set the shopkeep at ease, upon seeing that he was friendly.

"Warden Alistair," Sten nodded. "I am considering a weapon, until we find mine."

Alistair looked over the swords and picked up a rather large one, one that even he struggled to hold up. "Try this," he grunted.

"You are Alistair," the shopkeep called.

"Er, yes," Alistair answered hesetently, well aware that they were still wanted posters around Thedas of them..

"I am Herrer," the man introduced himself. "Something was left here for you." He handed Alistair a rune and another note.

"What is the rune?" Alistair looked at the odd symbol on it.

"It is not one of ours, but it appears to be Master Cleansing if I'm not mistaken," Herrer answered.

"Uh, thanks," Alistiar waved goodbye to Sten and attached the rune to his sword. It lit up for a moment, embuing the weapon with extra skills against Darkspawn. That must have set her back a pretty silver, he thought as he placed the sword back in it's sheath.

"Look for Try to find Look I can't think of anything clever, just go to the Pearl. - A"

Alistair chuckled. Then blushed as he realized she meant for him to enter a brothel. Alone. Maker.

He entered the, well he was just going to pretend it was a regular tavern. There just happened to be a lot of barely dressed, good looking people in this particular tavern. Nothing out of the ordinary at all. Nope.

He looked around and spotted red hair. Trying not to look around because... Oh, that was definitely a breast... he knew he was blushing. He was going to kill her. He arrived at the table, and sighed with disappointment to find that it was Leliana and not Ari whose hair he had spotted. She was playing cards with a few others.

Leliana handed him a key without looking up. "Third door on the left, through there."

Andraste's ass, please tell me she didn't get me a whore. Alistair had never felt like running as much as he did at that moment. He walked in the direction he'd been told, his hands shaking. I'll just tell the nice woman thank you so much but no. I'm sure that's ok, she'll be paid anyway, right? He really didn't want this to be how his first time went.

He opened the door, ready to turn tail and run when he stopped in shock. What was before him was definitely not what he had expected. Ari sat at a table, reading something. On the table was a large plate filled with nearly every type of cheese imaginable. A carafe of wine beside it, and she took a sip from her glass.

"Ali!" she beamed up at him. "Come on in."

Alistair blinked a few times and then nodded, closing the door behind him as he took his chair. "Ari?"

"I wasn't sure which kind was your favorite so I panicked and got them all," she indicated the plate.

"I uh...Any cheese is fine really," he picked out a piece of Nevarran blu.

"So," he spoke around a bite, "what was with the having me running around town? Why not just bring the cheese to the tavern?"

Ari chuckled and shook her head, "Because that would have defeated the point."

"The point?" he thought back, but couldn't figure out what she meant.

"Since you got the note this morning, did you even once think about that bi... the unpleasantness from yesterday?" Ari raised an eyebrow.

Alistair's face broke into a wide grin as he realized she was right. "No. No I didn't."

"Well there you go. And now there's cheese and wine and we don't have to share it with anyone else," Ari laughed.

Alistair grinned and helped himself to the treats. He really was amazed at how something as awful as the Blight could bring him something as wonderful as a friend like Arianna Cousland.

[labaguettegameuse]

I’m conflicted again. My Warden love Alistair. He is the love of her life. BUT. Since i’m getting even more attached to Morrigan, Leliana and Zevran each hour of gameplay passed I.... IDK. She loves Alistair dearly. He’s the perfect match for her. Don’t get me wrong.

Morrigan : But my warden will be ready to throw herself under the bus for Morrigan. If Flemmet comes for her again, my warden will put herself in danger just to protect her. Just for her. She’ll be heartbroken if she left the group for some reasons. After her personal quest, Morrigan said that she might not be worthy of this friendship or that she might not be up to the expectations of her friend. But she was ready to try really hard. And since this was just after the return to Ostagar dlc, i felt a warm sensation in my heart. I needed that. The fact that she’s ready to try something completely new to her means the world for my warden.

Léliana : At the beginning of the game, i was flirting with her and Alistair. I ended up choosing Al’. Even if i love him with all my life and heart, it hurt me to see her sad after i had to make a choice. So their friendship as been a little complicated. My warden was super afraid to loose her for good. So i spent a lot of hours searching for gifts for my favorite bard. And after a few talks, they became best friends once again. I was so relived. In my head, when my warden has anxiety attacks or nightmares and if Alistair is not around when those happen, she’ll seak Léliana’s help. A song or a story, a calming voice to go back to sleep. They will have a lot of girl talks. Probably some duets from time to time. Oh and her reaction when i give her the flowers her mother use to love was... priceless.  

Zevran : Ah Zevran Zevran... He’s really special to me. First : The way he meets the warden is unique. I liked that a lot. Second : When spamming for a chest and the “insufficient skills” phrase pop up, i laugh every damn time. Third, my warden have a good memory. If during a conversation you said you love flowers or wine a lot, she’ll remember that. And even if it’s a year later, she’ll gift you this very specified object. She did it for Zevran about the antivan boots and gauntlets. During a conversation, Zevran asked me about his future with the group after beating the archdemon. She told him that she would appreciate if he stays as a friend. His awner was like : “Mmh... yes i could live with that.”

My warden’s mother died, and she has a good relationship with her father. When we talked about home and family, Zev was feeling kind of sad and almost nostalgic. So when i gift him the gauntlets, he was so much better. And the fact he’s actually wearing the items and never took them off is such a nice touch. Later, in Denerim, a dude came to me at the tavern and told me he was with the crows and was ready to give me a series of contracts. I was about to said yes, but Zevran was in my party. And keep thinking about him. I was afraid that his former bosses would find him through me so i refuse the dude request. Much later, in Denetim again, a assassin came to me and demand to know where Zevran is. I told him he wasn’t with me at the moment. And when the dude was starting to get angry, Zevran came. Together, we kill the group of assassins. Then, he told me it was probably for the best if he left the group for good. I was like “nonononononono plz for the love of god.” Since i’m a master in the art of speech, i convince him to stay. I WAS SO RELIVED. I was like : “Another crisis averted.”

And now, during some of our travels, he has started to called my warden : “mi amore” i think. Sorry for the misspell but its always hard to catch when he says it cause of the noises/music of the places. Once, i tried to talk to him and he said something like : “ma dame désire ?” or “my lady desire ?” Those simple words have to power to make tremble. I kid you not. In french or in english. OOOF.

So, since my warden is really scared to loose Alistair because of that damn crown, Zevran could notice it. He’ll try to cheer her up by talking and having nice drinks. Sometimes, to many of them. So they would mock the nobles and the royalties by imititing some. “my lady desires another drink perhaps?”

After those drunken nights, if the warden passed out first, Zevran will bring her to her chambers so Alistair can watch over her during her sleep. If its Zevran, she would watch him sleep a little bit to make sure he’s okay and she’ll cover him up with blankets. When he and Morrigan came to the rescue to free her and Alistair, she was so relived and happy she started to cry. And now, they’re looking at each others having this strange feeling. This “could have been” bittersweet feeling.

But don’t you worry, Alistair is the real endgame. I guess my rp mind can have a lot of imagination sometimes x) Sorry for this nonsense again but i really needed to talk about this.

[mahalzevran]

Nandito Lang Ako

for @januanders

Summary: The growing friendship between Anders and Surana

Words: 1.9k

Tags: friendship, surana & anders

Rating: General Audiences

A/N: Nandito lang ako - I’m always just here

AO3 link

Rhian’s stomach growled. She was used to going to sleep hungry, especially when Master Cousland had been in a particularly bad mood that day. In fact, she’d gone to sleep even hungrier than this before. But at least she had her mom or dad to comfort her those times. Now she was all alone in a cold cell.

“Surana, right?” Rhian looked up to see who had said that. It was a boy in the cell next to hers. He looked a few years older than her. “I heard one of the guards call you that. I’m Anders.”

“Hi,” she replied. Just then her stomach growled again.

“Hungry? Here, one sec.” Anders started fumbling with his robes. A few seconds later he pulled out a roll of bread and held it out to Rhian through the bars separating them. She looked at it hesitantly. “Take it. You need it more than I do.”

“Thank you,” Rhian said, reaching over and grabbing the roll. The roll was cold and a little hard, but she wasn’t really in the position to be picky. She broke off a piece and started eating.

“They really shouldn’t send kids down here overnight without dinner as a punishment. Well, they shouldn’t have that as a punishment for anyone in general, but especially not for kids like you.”

“I’m not a kid. I’m 7,” Rhian replied with her mouth full.

Anders smiled at her. “So,” he said as she finished up the roll, “what are you here for?”

“I didn’t mean to! It was an accident! They all had these mean faces and were yelling at me!” Rhian could feel tears forming in her eyes.

“Hey,” Anders said in a soothing voice, trying to calm her down. He wished the bars weren’t there, so he could comfort her properly. He hated seeing kids cry. “I know you didn’t. I’m not mad. I was just wondering.”

Rhian wiped her eyes using her sleeve. “I missed going outside. I just wanted to look out the window but it was really high so I climbed up the bookcase. Then one of the Templars got mad and started yelling at me and I got scared. Then more and more came. I closed my eyes and wished they would all go away. When I opened them, they were all frozen.”

“Nice!” Anders said holding his hand up. The gesture made Rhian giggle. She went over and gave him a high five. Suddenly, she felt slightly better. It was like being near Anders made you feel safer. As if he had some kind of healing aura around him.

“Hey,” Anders said, “next time you get in trouble, you can tell them I did it. I’m older, I can take whatever punishment they give me.” Rhian smiled at him and nodded.

They spent the rest of the night huddled together, the cell bars being the only thing separating them.

—

“It’s not fair!” Anders was on the verge of tears.

Rhian didn’t know what to do. It was usually Anders who did the comforting. She patted him gently on the back.

“I’m going to miss him too,” Rhian said trying to be consoling.

“You don’t understand, Surana,” Anders said, his voice shaking. “It’s because of me. Of us. They noticed us getting close and they didn’t like it. Karl told me that they had a spot lined up for him. To help teach the younger apprentices. Why would they just suddenly transfer him?”

Rhian stayed quiet. Anders was right. It wasn’t fair. But when was the Circle ever fair?

—

Rhian’s heart dropped. That was the last set of cells and there was still no sign of him. She had kept an eye out while they were fighting the abominations and checked again once everything had calmed down. She hadn’t seen him with the other survivors when they first arrived. The dungeons were her last hope.

“Are you sure you didn’t see him?” Rhian asked Wynne.

“Yes. If he was hiding somewhere else, then he would’ve either ended up with the others or we would’ve come across him already. If he was down here, then he would be here. There’s only one way to leave and the abominations couldn’t have made their way down here.”

“So you mean..?”

“It’s the only answer, dear.”

“No! Maybe we missed him? We should check again. He’s probably hiding somewhere and we didn’t see.”

Rhian started to walk towards the exit when she felt a hand stop her. Zevran’s. “Rhi...I’m sorry.”

She could feel her heart pounding in her ears. Karl was gone and Jowan was stuck in the Redcliffe dungeons. Eadric was safe at least. But the thought of Anders possibly being...she couldn’t handle that. He was the first person to actually show her some kindness in the Circle. He helped make everything more bearable. The air suddenly felt thick. Rhian could feel tears welling up in her eyes. Zevran pulled her into his arms. She hoped tears didn’t stain leather.

—

Mhairi kicked the door open, revealing a tall lanky man shooting fire at a darkspawn. A few bodies were scattered on the floor, Templars from the look of their armor. Once he realized that there were people behind him, he turned around.

“Uh...I didn’t do it.”

Rhian’s heart leaped. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Before she knew it, she was bounding towards him. As she pulled him into a big hug, she was surrounded by a familiar comforting feeling.

“Hey, I can recognize this elf girl anywhere. Surana!” Anders returned her hug. Suddenly, he frowned. “Are you crying?”

“I thought you were dead.”

“No? I’d think I’d remember being dead.”

“But the Circle? How did you survive?”

“You mean the thing with Uldred? Great story actually-”

“Sorry to interrupt this reunion,” Alistair said, “but there’s darkspawn that needs killing.”

Rhian gave Anders one last squeeze before getting ready to move on to the next room. She couldn’t wait to catch up. She had so much to tell him.

—

A feeling of...anguish? Where was it coming from? Rhian closed her eyes and tried to focus on it. Anders. Something was wrong.

“Zev.”

Zevran yelped at Rhian’s sudden appearance, almost dropping what was in his hand. “Please do not do that. I am not used to your being a spirit yet.” Rhian apologized. Zevran took a moment to collect himself. “What is it?”

“It’s Anders. Something’s not right.”

“How do you know?”

“I can...feel it? In the Fade. I have to go to him. Will you be alright here with Alistair?” Zevran nodded and Rhian hugged him goodbye.

She didn’t know how long she’d been wandering around. It had been over a year since she defeated the Archdemon and somehow survived, but she still wasn’t used to the way time passed in the Fade. Or how to navigate it. All she had to go on was wherever the sense of anguish was coming from. Suddenly she found the source. She didn’t know how, just that her gut was telling her it was here. She crossed over the veil and the first thing that hit her was a horrible smell. She looked around and realized she was in a sewer. Then she saw a room not too far away. It looked like a clinic of some sort. As she walked in, she noticed a familiar blonde head.

“Anders?”

“Rhian? How are you here?” He had been crying.

“I sensed you. In the Fade.” Rhian walked over to where he was sitting and put an arm around him. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Karl. He’s dead.”

Rhian’s jaw dropped. “What? How?”

“They made him tranquil. Having Justice with me must’ve reconnected him to the Fade somehow. But it was only temporary. He asked me to...I didn’t have a choice…”

Rhian pulled him into a hug. “It’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not. It’s my fault. I should’ve gotten there sooner.”

“You couldn’t have known. The Circle’s the one to blame. You of all people should know that.”

Anders hugged Rhian tighter and let out a sob. She could feel tears forming in her eyes. She wasn’t as close to Karl as she was with Anders during her time in the Circle, but he was nice to her and helped her out when he could. And she knew how much he meant to Anders.

“I’m here for you. I’ll stay here tonight if you want.”

“I’d like that.”

—

Rhian was in position, one hand hovering over the hilt of her spellweaver should she need to whip it out. Zevran had heard a noise while they were eating and it was starting to come closer. Suddenly, four figures emerged. Alistair moved to strike them with his sword.

“Wait!” Rhian cried right before Alistair landed a hit. “Anders?”

“Surprise?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Escaping from Kirkwall,” said an elf. He was taller than average and had glowing tattoos. Rhian didn’t know what to make of him.

“That’s Fenris. And this is Alden and Kaia Hawke,” said Anders. “And these are the guys I was telling you about. My friends from my warden days.”

Rhian recognized their names from when Zevran had told her about how the Champion of Kirkwall and her friends helped him get rid of Nuncio. She also recalled two new warden recruits from a few years ago having the name Hawke. Bethany and...Copper? Possibly related. There seemed to be a family resemblance. She shook their hands, and when she got to Alden, he made sure to let her know that he was Fenris’ boyfriend.

“Now that we’re all introduced, do you have anything to eat?” said Kaia. “I’m starving.”

Alistair went to check and fortunately, they had just enough leftovers. As everyone sat down to eat, Anders told Rhian what happened. He talked about the rising tension in Kirkwall between the Templars and the mages, especially after the viscount died. How the Knight-Commander started descending into madness from exposure to red lyrium. How she had started tightening her grip on the mages and that the grand cleric did nothing to keep the peace. And when Anders found out that she had called for the Right of Annulment, he decided that enough was enough and blew up the Chantry to send a message. This led to a final showdown where he and his friends helped the mages fight against the Kirkwall Templars. After it was over, the four of them decided to flee from Kirkwall in case the Divine sent forces after them.

As Anders finished talking, Rhian could feel her anger building up. She slammed her bowl down on her lap. “No. I’m tired of this. You’re always on the run, Anders. No more. You’re back in.”

Anders gave her a questioning look.

“I’m reinstating you into the Grey Wardens. Effective immediately.”

“You mean-?”

“Yes. I’m invoking the Right of Conscription. You’re not an apostate or a fugitive anymore.”

“Can you do that? Reinstate me?”

“Why not? I’m still the Fereldan Warden-Commander last I checked. And I don’t think they’re really in a position to deny me. I’m the Hero of Ferelden, Ender of the Fifth Blight.”

Anders’ eyes started to tear up. He pulled Rhian into a big hug, thanking her repeatedly. She leaned into his hug. Anders meant a lot to her and she was going to do everything in her power to keep him safe. It was her way of repaying Anders for being there for her all those years in the Circle. No harm would ever come to him ever again.

[faerune]

20-30 for nelia! 💖

what do they hate being teased about? are they teased often? Her naivete/lack of knowledge about things in the broader world given that she grew up so sheltered in that tower (books can only do so much). It's too a point where she'll pretend to know certain things and Leli/Alistair will quietly poke fun at her about it and she's like I KNOW THINGS LOTS OF THINGS (like how to set them on fire).

did they have any fears growing up that they’ve since conquered? The sad thing about a lot of Nelia's childhood fears is a lot of them were rooted in true risks to her given that she's a mage (and an elf at that). She hasn't conquered them completely they just have...morphed into a fear of powerlessness instead of fears about a demon under her bed ready to snatch her up.

do they have a fear they want to conquer, but haven’t yet? Nelia rarely acknowledges her fears and when she does she looks at them as common sense/things that protect her from succumbing to the risks she's feared her whole life (being killed by templars, being possessed, etc.). If there's one thing about her Nelia will always turn things into something useful even her fear. It just drives her to be more powerful and knowledgeable in both magic and things like politics.

how do they show fear? sweating, shaking, blankness, anger, etc? Anger! Anger is something she can do something with. Often, her hands do shake but her nails are always clenching into the palms of her hands or into the wood of her staff whichever is available to her at the moment.

do they have a short temper? what’s most likely to set it off? God yes she does. Mostly when people do something to offend her big ass ego. There are a few things that set her off genuinely esp during the story like the elves being trafficked, meeting Ignacio in Denerim after becoming a little attached to Zev and learning more about what happened to him as a child, the blood mage you can kill in the Broken Circle, etc.

do they get scared easily? does loud noises, shouting, etc, scare them? Not really but sometimes she's a little sensitive to loud noise and the bustle of the city at first just because it's a lot all at once and she wants to see everything.

what are they most passionate about? what could they debate about for hours? Magic. Magic. Magic. Magic theories, magical technique, magical history. History in general she also loves! Books too! She has a particular soft spot for elven history in her later years because it's interesting to her and she feels like she never really got to be An Elf in all the good ways like being part of that community and history.

what do they never, ever want to speak of, ever? Her parents/family. From what little she remembers of how she came to the circle, Nelia sometimes thinks it's better she has forgotten them.

do they have kids? do they want kids? if so, how many? Nelia is good with kids (lots of experience with kiddos in the tower) but I'm not sure she ever considered having kids. Mage children are obv given away and then Grey Wardens can't have children. Once she settles in Amaranthine as Arlessa and Commander with Zev though...those thoughts start to creep in. I'd like to say they adopt a child eventually but just one!

is there something they’d like to change about themselves physically? I don't think so! She's a little insecure about her body at first when she starts looking at it through the lens of someone who has feelings for someone and wants to be intimate with someone (a few passing flings in the Circle that never got to that point and Zev). Nelia has always just seen her body as....A Body...something that gets her to point A to point B and holds her ~extraordinary~ brain. That being said, Zev does a lot to boost her confidence.

is there something about their personality they want to change? In her earlier years? No not much. Nelia really thinks she's the shit. In her older years when she's ruling Amaranthine and commanding the Wardens, she becomes a lot more wise and less impulsive. She tries to listen a lot more instead of barreling ahead with whatever she thinks is the right path and she wishes her younger self would have been more wise, thoughtful, and considered things before jumping into things.

[rarawriting]

Tell the World I’m Going Home | Commission

Posted with Permission for Anon

Brand. Casteless. Dirty. Disgusting.

The Frostback Mountains grew larger the closer they drew, and Natia felt sick. She was nothing there, and the guards would most likely take her into custody and execute her, Warden or not. Should she tell Alistair about that? Ah why bother, that could just be another thing on the list of things Alistair didn’t know.

“Have you looked at the treaties?” “…Of course.”

He didn’t know he was probably too naïve to realize, but the mark on her face meant something. It was more than body art, it was a brand, sunk so deep into her skin that she was sure it was on her bones. It meant she didn’t exist in Orzammar, that she had no Caste, nor clan. The Ancestors turned their backs on her, that she knew nothing in life, but hunger, scorn, and violence.

Alistair would not have known that being marked as she was meant she could not read, nor write beyond a small bit of Dwarvish. Rica had tried to teach her, but she had work to do for Beraht, and so did Natia. What did she need to learn to read or write for? She and Leske would probably die doing Beraht’s dirty work. But it changed, at the Provings, and Duncan had come and rescued her, and with everything after Ostagar, how could she tell him, when he was mourning so deeply?

Morrigan knew, had approached her one evening after Alistair had gone to rest, while she was on watch. It was a simple deal, do not look too closely at her magic, and she would help her learn to read and write. She agreed, adding that Alistair could never find out. With a nod, their accord was struck.

It was very, very slow work, between all the fighting and the ever growing camp. It was difficult to find ways to slip off to Morrigan’s tent that didn’t set tongues to wagging. The first time Zevran mentioned it, she had bristled, but ignored him. When he asked what a woman like Morrigan could offer her in the evenings, that any of the others could not, she had seen red.

Morrigan was her friend. Morrigan did not judge her for her past. Morrigan did not prefer women. To insinuate that she and Morrigan were a couple, or at the very least spending nights together meant that the Witch would be associated with her, and to associate with her in such a manner meant that any dwarf would see her as a brand as well.

It took Sten literally hefting her up into his arms, and off of Zevran to calm her down. The Antivan was certainly surprised by the force with which she had managed to knock him over with, and more importantly to give him a black eye. Wynne tried to lecture her about how Wardens were to act, about responsibility and she stormed off into the dark, trying to judge when they would sleep.

Sten had first watch with Shale, so it would be easy to slip back to her tent, and it really was. She did not expect to find Zev there, and her hand went to her daggars, but he held his own out to show he was unarmed. “I am sorry, my dear Warden. I did not mean to touch a tender spot.”

“She is not my lover. She offered to help me with a private matter.” “Oh?” “Yes.” “You would not care to share?” he asked, and that damned grin was on his face again. It drove her mad, his light tone, the way he seemed to not care about anything. Her jaw set itself firmly as she shook her head, glaring at him, hoping he’d leave.

“What do you say to me making it up to you, hm? You’re always so tense, dear Warden!” “It will take more than that to get me out of my clothes, elf.” “Ah, and she wounds me with her words!” “Go to bed, Zevran. You have late watch with Wynne.” His face soured and he gracefully left, leaving her to her thoughts. Certainly the blonde would mock her if he knew, would slip it to Alistair, or worse Wynne. Still, she did not mind their flirtations, really the more they did, the bigger the army they gathered, the more death they saw, the better it made her feel in some way. That there was still chances to be light hearted.

Alistair tried to flirt, but he was so innocent she could not bear to taint him. Leliana was much the same, though she was a bard and knew of such things. Sten had no interests, it seemed, and Wynne was far too old for her liking. That left Zevran and Shale. It was hardly a difficult choice when she decided she needed some comfort.

And she told him, one evening after too much wine at Eamon’s castle, all of it. Her birth status, everything she had done for Beraht, leaving Leske, not knowing if her sister even lived! Once it had started to tumble out, all of it did. Ostagar, Lothering, Morrigan teaching her to read and write. Perhaps she should not have been surprised that he did not judge her, when he assured her that her past was nothing to be ashamed of. He should know, he was an assassin, and a son of a whore!

There was a comfort to being with Zevran, even if she was simply another name to his list. He could read her, just as she could read him, and he would always know when to pick at someone, in good fun just to bring a smile to her lips, though she quickly hid it. She was The Warden. She was serious, she was brave, her face had to remain impassive.

So when her steps grew heavier at the sight of the mountains, he started to complain about all this walking, and being hungry and tired. Thankfully, the others mentioned they could use a rest, and even Sten proclaimed it would be at least another day before they reached their destination. So they made camp. It was going fine, everyone studiously ignoring how tense and snippy her responses came.

“You go tomorrow, Alistair. Speak to the king, get the troops.” “Why me?” “You’re a Grey Warden just as much as I am! More so, since you’ve been at this longer.” “But you’re a dwarf! You know their customs!” “I don’t know them anymore than you do!” “Duncan said you were from Orzammar!” Natia stood from the log she had sat upon quickly, climbing onto it to be at eye level with Alistair.

“I may have been born under that mountain, in those tunnels, but I have never been from there. I knew nothing about Redcliffe, or Eamon, the Circle, but you did. You thrust me into the leadership role, when I knew nothing. I have fought the undead, demons, werewolves and worse, and never once did I complain. I’m asking you to do one thing, Alistair, one thing! When have I ever done that?”

Before he could reply, she hopped off the log and stormed away, face red even in the dark. All eyes in camp remained on him, and he sighed, pressing his hands to his face. “Maker, she is impossible!” He groaned, settling down to sit on the very log she left. He jumped when hot breath caressed his ear. “Perhaps, my dear Bastard Prince, you should think on her words."

Before the ex-templar could turn, Zevran was gone, off after the dwarf and he was left confused. Why wouldn’t she want to go to Orzammar, why wouldn’t that be her home? He shook his head, and got up. He needed to talk to Wynne.

Zevran found her beating away at a tree with a stick she had found. Well at least she had sense enough not to use her weapons. He settled back against another tree, keeping watch. Finally, the stick dropped from her hands, hardly more than splinters now and her shoulders dropped forward, her forehead against the tree.

"He really is an idiot.” “Yes, yes he is.” “And Eamon wants to make him king.” “That he does.” The blonde did not mention the odd thickness to the Warden’s voice, nor the shaking of her shoulders. She would come to him when she was ready. Meanwhile, he could try to make her feel a bit less heavy. “I have some herbs that when ground into a powder will make his trousers very uncomfortable.”

She sniffled a little and turned to him, cheeks dry, but that meant nothing. He had learned to not cry ages ago, but that did not mean he never felt the urge to. Silently, he opened his arms and she curled up against him, eyes closed tightly. His fingers worked through her hair, noting that it was getting long, and realized with some dismay she would probably cut it soon. The very short hair was fine, but he did like the bit of length.

“Rica might be dead.” “It is a possibility, yes.” “They might kill me.” “They might try, cara, but they will not succeed!”

Her head turned to look at him, confusion on her face. That word he had used, cara, held more in it than she realized he felt. But that damned flippant smile was there again, and she knew it was as much a mask as her stern face was. Perhaps one day, they could leave them both behind. He continued to stroke her hair and sighed.

“You know it could be an act of war, making Alistair go in there alone.” “He wouldn’t be alone. I’d make you go with.” “Yes, because he listens to me.” There was a long pause, where Natia merely held his fingers, his hand in hers and sighed heavily. She did not want to have to face her past, yet there it was, looming quite literally over them.

“I’m going to have to go in.” “Yes.” “Sod it.”

She rose, hand still holding his and he followed, right to Morrigan’s tent. It was time for her lesson, and while the witch didn’t like him, he was good at keeping watch. When it concluded, he led her back to his tent, for nothing more than to ease her tension, and try to keep the nightmares at bay.

**

Faryn was easy to find the next morning, and Natia was sure Sten enjoyed scaring the man just as much as she did. And Loghain’s men were easy to dispatch, just as the bounty hunters had been. Getting past the guards had been alright, but the moment she set foot back into the market district, she knew things were going to be as easy as kissing a deep stalker.

The deshyrs were fighting, quite literally in the streets, and the very first guard they came across demanded her permit to carry weapons, called her a brand, and she kept her head held high as she explained she was a Warden. He didn’t apologize, just warned her to stay out of trouble. Natia couldn’t bring herself to look at Alistair.

They continued on, picking up requests from people in need, and she got into a few arguments about whether she was a Warden or not. At least Alistair had sense to keep his mouth shut, and Zevran kept his hands to himself. There was no avoiding it, she had to go to the Diamond Quarter, and there she saw the last person in all of Ferelden, in all of Thedas standing there.

“Rica?”

It all moved so quickly after, she was Bhelen’s consort, had given him a son, raised their mother out of the slums. Still she kept her face neutral, now was not the time to let her emotions flow. Every noble there was eyeing them, and one wrong move could have the guards called. Bhelen’s man had papers that she knew were fake, that she wanted her to give out. She really didn’t like either noble, but if it kept Rica safe, to name her father’s child king, she’d find away.

She could tell Vartag knew she knew they were fake. She hadn’t survived Dust town by being an idiot. But she kept her mouth shut, did the task, and spent more time fighting off Harrowmont’s fanatics than anything else.

They had let her into the palace, and she found her sister easily and they had an earnest conversation. Natia even let a smile on her face and tears fill her eyes when Rica spoke of little Endrin, her nephew. Of course their mother ruined the moment, and she left with a hug for her sister, and soft words to stop drinking from her mother.

Morrigan stopped her, briefly, to express her sympathies, and gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. Patting her hand, she realized that they would have to go back to Dust Town, and that it would be a mess.

And it was. It was horrible, and she closed her heart and her mind off for a while, running on autopilot, letting her feet take her where she knew to go. Alistair knew now, that she had been part of the carta, and soon the others would. There was no “if they got out alive”. They were leaving alive, because Natia survived once down there, she’d do it again.

Killng Jarvia had been a pleasure, but Leske had hurt, deep in her chest. She had even stumbled after he stopped breathing, and they had to catch her. She had to breathe past it, and she did, shaking off everyone’s hands before they continued on.

They broke for camp, to rest and restock for what was to come. The Deep Roads. Shale was insistent that she come, and who was Natia to say no? Zevran was also very insistent, but with Oghren demanding he come with, she had to choose. He had the map, they couldn’t leave him behind. Finally, it was agreed that they would need a healer with them, just in case, and Morrigan offered to accompany them, before Wynne could.

It was not as though Natia disliked Wynne, she just was not in the mood some days, to have the older woman try to mentor her. She’d been taking care of herself and Leske since  they were kids. She’d become a Grey Warden at seventeen! She just didn’t need a lecture every other discussion.

It was with a tender kiss in her tent, that she parted with Zevran, to get an early start. Who knew how long they’d been in the Deep Roads? Oghren was thankfully silent when she slipped out of her tent, and Zebran right after. “Do not let the Darkspawn get to you, dear Warden. Then I would be in quite the pickle with our agreement!”

Turning as she walked out of camp, she shook her head fondly. “If I die at the hands of darkspawn, you have my permission to stay and fight, or flee as you wish.” She offered and he bowed with great flourish before they left.

**

It was finally done. Branka was dead. So was her house, minus one now ex-husband. Carridin was also dead, but he had given her a boon, a crown with his family’s mark to give to the king she chose. Shale knew some of who she had been. Still it was a long, quite trek back. No one commented on their state of filth, thankfully. They just let them enter the Assembly. The migraine that had been building while they were down there reached it’s peak when the deshrys started to argue once again.

But they had successfully placed Bhelen on the throne, and Rica was safe. Little Endrin was safe. Even Mother was safe. As they left, perhaps for the last time, Oghren silently handed her a flask and she drank deeply. Nodding her thanks, she offered him a bottle she had found, and gave him a tight smile at his thanks. The drink hadn’t helped, her head still felt as though it were to explode. Was it the near constant nightmares? Or perhaps it was simply having seen the archdemon, and the mass that was the horde.

She placed a comforting hand on Oghren’s shoulder and led him towards camp, glad that everyone seemed to have survived without them. Food was placed in her hands, and she ate a few bites before wavering a little, plate falling to the ground. Calloused hands pressed into her neck without a word and she let her eyes drop close.

Natia must have fallen asleep, to wake at the smell of food and to find the sky had darkened. Well she had not intended that, not in the least. Picking up her towel and a bar of soap, she headed towards the stream and knew by foot fall alone it was Alistair who was following.

He gave her privacy til she was in the water and then he sat on a log, sighing. “I’m an ass.” She didn’t comment, merely hummed in agreement as she scrubbed dark spawn guts from her hair. “I read a bit about the Casteless. After we were there.” “Dust town, you can say it Alistair. It’s just a place.” “Can you read?”

Jerking her head to him, she frowned and looked confused at the sudden awkward segue. He must have realized she couldn’t follow his train of thought, and began to explain, “Well I just was reading that the casteless don’t get any jobs, or help, or schooling. So can you read? I can..teach you. If you want.”

Dunking herself long enough to gather her thoughts, Natia popped back up and sighed. “Rica, my sister, tried to teach me. I was a terrible student, but I learned enough Dwarvish to get by. I could write my name, that was more than most dusters. Beraht got her lessons. Taught her to be a lady. She did what she could when I wasn’t out running for him.” There was a heavy pause, filled with Alistair looking towards the stars and handing her her towel.

“Morrigan’s been teaching me since Lothering. That’s what we do in her tent almost every night. If you tell Wynne or Leliana I swear by your minor obsession with your hair and fine cheeses I will make your life miserable.”

Nodding, he gave her a quick hug, before leaving to let her dress. There was more they had to discuss, but for the moment they were alright. Once alone, she let her shoulders relax a little as she listened to the sounds of the night. She dressed quickly, slipping her daggers loose as she heard something move behind her. Spinning she stopped herself from stabbing Zev and huffed.

“So, you told him.” “That I did.” “The world has not ended yet.” “No.” “Hmm good. I have rope I need to find a use for, and I’m sure you can figure out how to use it, cara mia.” “One day you’ll tell me what that means.” “And on that day, I will shower you with gifts.” “Hmm I like sapphires.” “Good to know.”

And with that, they walked back to camp, for a few hours of peace, before they returned to Redcliffe, and the Blight.7

[erynnar]

Kai woke up to gray murky light coming through the bedroom windows. She was still in the birthing room, so maybe she hadn't done the “let's go comatose” routine she seemed so fond of, for which she was extremely grateful. She didn't think the others would be able to tolerate pouring broth down her throat again. She rolled over to see the twins both awake and making little chirping noises as they tried to suck on Zev's fingers. Apparently, he had taken Morrigan's place sometime in the night. He was laying under, Maker finally, the covers while leaning on one elbow while watching them. Kai took a moment to enjoy watching one of her best friends in the world with a look of awe and wonder on his usually guarded face.

"I can't believe they're mine, either." Kai watched him start as he had not heard her rouse.

I can, they are beautiful like their mother," Zev smiled at her.

"On that we can completely agree," Alistair's voice held love and pride. "I'm glad I got Morrigan to come. I didn't think she would, since we never liked each other. I may have to change my mind on that now. Not a raging bitch, just a bitch." Alistair laughed.

"She will be heartbroken to hear it I am sure," Kai retorted with a mental smile of her own.

"Kai, I...," Zev voice cracked. "I am glad you did not use my dagger after all, dear friend." And Zev touched her cheek. She had such good friends, how blessed she was. She knew what it must have cost Zev to hand the blade over to Leliana, knowing what it was for.

"I am glad we didn't use it either, Zev." She put her hand over his on her cheek and gave him a smile.

"I think they are hungry, no? I will fetch Wynne or Fiona, since this is your first try at this?" Zev threw back the covers and got out of bed to get dressed. Before leaving to fetch Wynne or Fiona, he gently pulled her up and piled pillows behind her back so she could sit up. She felt as if her body had been beaten with a pillow with rocks in it. Zev kissed her forehead and left the room.

Feeding babies was quite a learning experience. Kai was so grateful that she had Fiona and Wynne helping her, or she didn't know what she would have done. The twins could have starved before she figured it out. Kai did have a moment of intense sadness that her own mother was not the one helping her, Maker that was difficult. This sadness was the only blight on an otherwise very blissful and happy moment.

When it seemed the little ones had had their fill, been burped, changed and re-wrapped in blankets only to fall asleep once again, Wynne had suggested that Kai get dressed and walk downstairs. It was Winter Solstice, and by Wynne's calculations the twins had arrived on and little after midnight today. So, it was a birthday and a holiday all in one. The others were all downstairs waiting to see her and the babies and to celebrate.

Kai put on the same sort of simple woolen robe she had been wearing since her belly got too big to be comfortable in leggings and a tunic. That and doeskin slippers for her feet, and she was ready to go. She leaned on Wynne taking careful steps, as she just felt tender all over. Fiona followed carrying one baby in each arm.

She could smell the wonderful smells filling the hunting lodge from the kitchen, and they made her realize just how hungry she was. She hadn't eaten much since yesterday morning, and her stomach grumbled to let her know it. They made their way downstairs to the dining hall where she had been introduced to Fiona.

The hall had been decorated with evergreen branches and holly. Candles glowed and the fire roaring in the fireplace kept out the chill of the snow still falling outside the windows of the lodge, making faint hissing noises as the flakes brushed against the glass. She walked in the doorway to see those she loved, her extended family. They were all here. It made her heart swell. She just wanted to grab this moment when all their eyes turned towards her, and she could look on each beloved face.

Her brother came forward first and caught her in a big bear hug. "If I had known that having a little sister was going to scare the years off of me, I would have told Mother and Father to adopt a Mabari." She could feel him grinning into her hair.

Full chapters at AO3//FF.net.

Please forgive me for not posting last week due to the holiday. I’m afraid I haven’t learned to set things up to post ahead of time.

And I bet your indulgence for being so late posting this week. My internet was down.

Thank you for reading!

[whiskeyworen]

Name: Zevvras Awd (Zev or Zevv for short. Two V’s) Race: Asura Gender:  Male College: Dynamics Class:  Revenant

Allies:  None as yet. Has run into Caelia Redgrip a few times and been amicable.

Relationships:  Acquaintance; Caelia Redgrip.

Weapons: Ascalonian Mace, Dragonsblood Axe, Envoy Scythe

It's said among the Asura that an Asura that assumes a surname is odd. Eccentric. Potentially crazy. It should be no surprise that Zevvras Awd decided to be playful, and assume the last name 'Awd', since he is, by most standards...odd.

Mild-mannered normally, Zevvras is generally considered kind, compassionate, and pleasant to be around. At least, until he gets irritated. He doesn't rage like a berzerker, or 'husk out' as some Sylvari refer to it. But when Zevv gets angry, even if he tries to hide it, the temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees.

Of course that could just be him manipulating the environment through his control of Mist Energies. Either/or.

Zevvras was always the odd progeny out. He had a distinct lack of ambition to invent, or come up with original ideas. He had literally no interest in making his mark on the world. As such he was a bit of a social outcast, but not a reviled one. He was always just that one that other Asura would be like "Oh, yeah. That's Zevvras. He's so... I want to say lazy, but that's not it. Relaxed?"

It never really bothered him. He had other things to deal with. Like, how does a 10 year old deal with the grumblings of a demon or the shouts of a legendary killer in his mind while trying to at least make it through one of the colleges? How do you deal with the fact that you can literally rip holes open into the Mists with your mind if you weren't thinking properly?

One thing he definitely DID hide until he was graduated and matured enough, was his talent for telekinetics. More than once, at a party, he'd scare people by tapping them on the shoulder from across the room, or sliding a drink cup his way across a crowded bar. Though, to be fair, it was quite amusing to use while in school. Young Zevv was not the most innocent of Asura; more than a few skirts were flicked by his telekinesis.

It was only after word got out about the Revenants, and the abilities they had, that Zevv realized what he was. He was a Revenant by birth, rather than circumstance. The skills others had gained by making deals, or being lost in the Mists, or what-have-you, he had gotten by a fluke of genetics and fate.

Things became pretty clear after that. To train, he isolated himself in the jungles of the Straits of Devastation. He had to master his mind, his abilities, and his weapons. With no master to train him, it took him fully two years (an eternity to the fast-paced Asura!) to reach true balance.

On the day he felt he was ready, he reached out, into the Mists, and called forth something. Something he knew was his and his alone. A scythe of congealed Mist-essence, forged into the visage of some unknown thing. The rippling image on the blade almost seemed to pulsate, its tendrils twisting and turning even as one looked at it.

With that, he headed out into the world, parsing the words of the voices in his mind, making his own path. Inevitably he was drawn to conflicts, but not out of a desire for battle. One thing he had learned while meditating was that in addition to wanting to maintain balance, he also wanted to see justice. The weak protected, the strong who abused them punished.

A minor figure, you'd have to scour battle reports to hear of a random Revenant joining a fight, only to spare an enemy here, or annihilate another one there, seemingly with no rhyme or reason. A deeper study might reveal that the ones he spared changed their lives; Bandits who chose to go straight and become good people. Monsters who weren't attacking out of malice, but to protect their young or against poachers.

The only opponents Zevv has never tried to spare have been Dragon minions. Sylvari don't count, but Orrian undead, Branded beasts, Jormag ice monsters; he wipes them out. Apparently Dragon Minions do not deserve salvation...or are incapable of it. Zevv refuses to answer that question.

His journeys have brought him into contact, repeatedly, with Caelia Redgrip. Caelia's own journey, one of maintaining the balance of Life and Death, mirrors his own to a degree, so occasionally they travel together. There have been minor disagreements between each other though. Does that Flame Legion Shaman really deserve to be spared in the name of Justice? Can he really be turned good? The lives he's taken demand balance be restored, but Justice demands he live and feel the pain of his victims for the rest of his life. Who is right?

They have never come to blows though. One will always accede to the other, and the matter is resolved.

Zevvras wanders Tyria and Maguuma, his swift and final justice a direct contrast to his mild demeanor. You might pass him on the road, hear his whistling as he passes. Give him a nod, smile, and you'll get one in return. Just be a good person, and you'll only ever encounter him as a good person.

In an unrelated note, he's been known to admit that his hair is naturally solid black, and he just dyes it blue because it 'looks cooler'.

[erynnar]

Chapter Text

Kai had been spurred into action. She sent Lelyth back to Denerim after she had rested. The poor girl and her Ceffyl had ridden all night to Redcliffe as soon as Zev had left and she had read the note. Not only was she to go back to her assignment but to inform the rest of the Scath to be ready should they be called. Her mind had been going more swiftly than an arrow, planning what and who she would need for this journey. The “who” would have to be completely voluntary. So, Kai had the servant who had woken her wake all of her compatriots up and have them meet her in the great hall.

Morrigan and Leliana just watched her pace, rereading the parchment as if it would give her more information. Kai knew it wouldn't but she couldn't help it. She also preferred to stay angry at the foolish elf, because underneath she felt fear, and a whole lot of it too. Sten, Oghren, Shale, Argus, and Wynne walked into the room, followed by Eamon and Teagan. Kai groaned inwardly. She was hoping to avoid a confrontation with Eamon, who no doubt would argue against her going. But, she kept her face neutral and turned to address all of them.

"Zevran has been taken by The Crows. I intend to find him," Kai swallowed and clenched her fist, "alive or dead. I am hoping alive, of course. He was taken in Denerim, and I only have this note for him to meet someone in a room in the Gnawed Noble Tavern." Kai looked them each in the face before she began again. "I am going, there is no argument that will sway me." She held up a hand to Eamon whose mouth had started to open. "But I could use help. We have fought together, and you have all stayed by my side, I could not ask for better friends. I know you consider me the leader, but I am not telling you that you have to go. I am, however, asking, one friend to another. But if you feel that putting your lives on the line for Zev is too much, I understand. There will be no shame, no recriminations, no guilt. This is for me to do." Kai fell silent and let them think on it.

"You are really going to do this?" Alistair asked in her ear.

"Hey, you are the one who wants me to sleep with him remember?" Kai tried to make her query light, even though her throat wanted to close up, her heart was banging in her chest, and her stomach felt like ice. "I can't very well sleep with him if he is dead, now can I?"

"Ha, very ha," Alistair's voice sounded scared too. "I know nothing I say will sway you anyway. You are the most pig-headed woman in all of Thedas."

"I prefer ‘implacable,’ remember?" She gave him a mental smile.

"Just, please be careful. I know you can handle yourself, but you are a mother," Alistair's voice admonished.

"Yes, I am quite aware I am a mother, since I am the one who went through about twenty-three hours of sweating and pushing and almost dying. That is something really hard to forget." Kai retorted back. She felt him sigh, so she relented. "I know, my beloved, but Zev would not leave me. Can I do any less for him? For any of them?"

"You being you, no. Just please keep our babies in mind, no pulling any of your usual crazy death defying stunts like going comatose, okay?" Alistair's voice teased her.

It was Shale who broke into Kai's internal conversation. "Since the painted elf has never turned into a bird or shown any inclination towards the feathered fiends, then I will go."