#lolan amell

[clarosowrites]

Selfish

   Zevran laid awake, something nameless buzzing underneath his skin. Fort Drakon was quiet and still around him and a fire flickered in the hearth. And, though his weariness pulled on him, he could not settle, instead keeping an unnecessary vigil, eyes fixed on the figures in bed next to him.

   His Warden was fast asleep underneath the covers, shielded against the cold Fereldan night. Clara's blonde hair tumbled across her pillow, only a shade darker than that of the small boy she held, curled safely against her chest. His open mouth formed a perfect circle as he breathed a steady rhythm into the night. 

   They were both dead to the world, lost to the Fade. Having good dreams, he hoped, about sweet pies and bright sunshine and each other.

   He should leave. He should take his few possessions, climb out the window, and steal a horse. He could in Antiva in three weeks if he hurried. It would be better. For everyone. 

   Maybe he'd die fighting at the hands of assassins. No less than he deserved, really. 

   He should be gone, and they'd both be better off. He knew they would. His love had killed an Archdemon, she was strong and far smarter than him; she would thrive. And the boy would grow to be much like her. 

   He wouldn't have anything of Zevran in him and he was glad of that. The child wasn't his, but he doubted he could create anything so precious anyway.

   They would be happy without him. Free from any threat of the Crows or the many enemies he's made in his short life. Absent of his nightmares, his paranoid mind seeing dangers around every street corner, from the dark tendrils in his own mind that threatened to reach out and sink into his waking world.  

   Zevran slowly reached out, running a finger over his smooth cheek, through his tight golden curls. Why didn't he leave? How many nights did he lay awake, convincing himself into running off? 

   He looked up, surprised to see his lover's eyes open and gazing at him so softly. She smiled, just barely, and his heart swelled. When he smiled in return, she closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep. 

   As he laid his head down, he felt a small hand close over his finger. 

   Ah, well. He supposed he'd always been a selfish bastard.

[clarosowrites]

Zevran comes home after a long year in Antiva, only to find an unexpected guest in his Warden’s rooms. 

[clarosowrites]

Reunited

After years of fighting the Crows and missing his Warden, Zevran returns to Vigil's Keep. The reunion he looked forward to, however, doesn't go exactly as he planned.

The next installment in my Clara Amell series, set sometime in Awakening.

Zevran slunk along the wall, his footsteps quietly pressing into the fresh snow. His slender ears pricked up at the sound of metal clinking against metal and he pressed himself into the long shadows. A solitary guard walked past him, spear resting idly on his shoulder.

He briefly considered knocking the man out--it would certainly make his job easier--but decided against it. His Warden took the safety of her men seriously and harming a guard, even an inattentive one, would upset her. Though he would still have a talk with her about their training.

He peered up at the stone walls of Vigil's Keep. Icicles hung off the parapets and windows, reflecting the pale moonlight. The old fort looked exactly the same--solid and ugly and thoroughly Fereldan.

He grinned. Against all reason, he'd missed this damn miserable country. Or at least the company he had left behind.

Taking the grappling hook and line from his belt, he widened his stance. It had been quite some time since he'd had to infiltrate a keep the old-fashioned way, but the motions came back to him quickly. He swung the hook once, twice, then sent it sailing up. It latched onto the edge of the roof and he quickly hauled himself up to the windowsill.

He could just see the bed inside. That bundle underneath the covers must be Clara. Slipping a dagger under the latch, he slid the window open, already imagining the welcome his Warden would give him. She would be surprised, of course, but happy to see him. She'd light up with that smile she saved just for him and-

Zevran froze, half in and half out the window, as a sudden clatter drew his attention. Next to the bed, a boy stood, mouth agape. A cup lay at his feet, water spreading quickly on the wood floor.

He screamed.

With a flash of pale skin, Clara shot up from the bed. Fire rushed towards him. Scorching heat enveloped him and his vision went black.

The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back and looking up at a very familiar, red-bearded face. He squinted as his vision blurred.

"Oghren?"

"Elf." The dwarf grinned, showing his cracked and blackened teeth.

Something was soaking into his clothes. Maker, he hoped it was snow.

"What happened?" He asked, his voice strained. He tried to life his head and groaned as pain echoed through his back.

A blonde human appeared behind Oghren. A mage, by the look of his robes. "You know him?" He exclaimed.

"You got caught, elf."  He laughed. "Thought we trained you outta that!"

"Well," Zevran grinned, pushing himself up to his elbows. "You can take the assassin out of the Crows, but you can't take the Crow out of..." He coughed, spitting blood into the snow. He sighed. "...you get the picture."

Oghren elbowed the mage. "Anders, heal 'em."

"He tried to kill the Commander!" He shouted.

"Just do it, sparklefingers." He grunted, glaring.

Zevran chuckled. Ah, the dwarf had been his usual charming self, then.

He closed his eyes as a healing spell washed over him, like a warm ocean wave. He sighed. That was something he missed--he had no mage friends in Antiva and had to be content with his own sloppy stitches for too long.

"Thank you." He said to the nervous-looking mage.

"C'mon." Oghren said, pulling him to his feet. "She'll want to see you."

Zevran stumbled into him, his legs weak, and leaned against his friend.

He looked up to his most recent perch, two stories up. The window was blown outwards, the surrounding wall blackened and scorched. Bits of glass and wood littered the ground between him and the wall, a good twenty meters away.

Braska, his perfect plan all gone to shit. What had happened? Who was that child?

"The hell where you thinking, anyway?" Oghren asked. "Commander don't like surprises."

"Maker forgive me for trying to be romantic." Zevran sighed dramatically.

Using his short friend as a rather smelly crutch, he limped toward the keep, leaving a sputtering human in their wake.

Oghren pounded on the doors to the main hall. "Open up!"

The doors swung inward. A dozen people were scattered throughout, some in sleep clothes, some in full armor, and a few in odd mixtures of both. All of them held weapons.

To his surprise, he recognized a man in the crowd--the blood mage from Redcliffe. This night was just getting stranger and stranger.

And then he saw her. His lover stood on a dais, a few steps above him, in front of a carved wooden throne. Her short blonde hair was tousled madly and she wore her golden dragon scale mail over a robe and trousers, the clothing sticking awkwardly from beneath her armor. Her silverite sword shimmered with electricity, held loosely at her side.

And behind her, the same child hid. Small hands grasped at her pant leg as he peaked out at him.

Zevran looked back up at her, his brow knitting. It couldn't be him, could it?

He saw the moment that she recognized him. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. But instead of smiling and running toward him and any of the number of things he'd dreamed of in their months apart, her expression hardened.

"Everybody out!" Clara call out sternly.

A dark haired man stepped forward. "Commander, you can't be serious, he--"

"That wasn't a suggestion, Howe." She snarled, sheathing her sword. "You're all dismissed!"

Zevran found himself frozen as the other Wardens filed out of the room, shooting curious glances at him. As he watched, Clara knelt down to speak to the boy, smoothing a hand over his blonde curls. He nodded and ran over to the blood mage, who swung him up on his hip as he left.

"Don't let her kill ya." Oghren said gruffly as he left. "Nobody else 'round here is any fun."

Then, he was finally alone with his Warden. His lover, his love, that he hadn't seen for over a year, and now she was looking at him with such empty eyes.

"Well, this isn't exactly the welcome I hoped for." He said, aiming for levity and falling short. "I imagined candlelight, some chocolates, and... rather less clothing."

Her expression didn't change. "You should've sent a letter ahead."

"I could say much the same of you, my Warden. I was beginning to think you had forgotten me." He said coldly. He hadn't had a response from her in months. At first, he excused it--she was busy, running the Wardens and fighting darkspawn--but now he knew it was something else.

"No. I didn't... I didn't know what to say." Clara said shortly. She took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on the floor. "My son. His name is Lolan. He lives here now and I know this...that you never agreed to this. I understand if you leave."

"Leave?" His heart dropped. "Am I to be turned away so callously, then?"

"I don't want you to go, Zev." She looked up and he was startled to see tears in her eyes. He crossed the room to her, his hands coming up to cradle her elbows, wanting to embrace her but not willing to force it. "But a child--that was never part of our arrangement."

"Arrangement?" He asked.

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do." He said softly. "But to spend so many months away from you, dreaming of you, and to hear you speak of it so callously..."

"I don't know what else to call it." She sighed. "I'm sorry."

Zevran could feel her trembling in his arms. "You look almost afraid of me, mi amora."

"Oh, Zev." She pushed her forehead against his, closing her eyes. She reached up to him and carded her fingers through his hair. "I'm not, I promise. I'm just terrified of what you might say."

"I can say it in a funny voice if you like." He murmured. "I do a wonderful Neverran accent."

She laughed.

"Ah, there she is." He said, brushing a tear off her cheek. "You worry too much, Clara. Haven't I stuck around this long? Tell me what's frightened you and we can work from there."

"I don't know how this will change things. Being a mother." She whispered. "I want both of you in my life, but you might not want him around."

He sighed, not knowing how to respond. He'd never taken care of a child--and he thanked the Maker for that, knowing how the Crows treated their new recruits. Maybe he wouldn't like this one. Maybe Lolan wouldn't like him. Maybe Clara had outgrown him while they were apart. She was a mother now, as well as Warden-Commander, she surely had better prospects than him.

But as she melted into his arms, he felt his worries fading.

"Are you happy?" Zevran asked.

She nodded, her eyes shining. "I love him so much."

"Good. I won't ask you to give that up." He said. His Warden had spent so much of her life alone and he would never dream of taking any happiness away from her. "Do you really want me to be around him?"

"What? I'm not asking you to be his father, Zev."

"I know, I know." He shrugged. "But I hardly think I'm a good influence on anyone, much less a child."

"Let me worry about that." Clara pulled him in and kissed him quickly. "So you're staying?"

"At this point, mi amora, you couldn't chase me away." He smiled. "Why don't you introduce us?"

She took his hand, lighting up with that smile that she saved just for him, and led him away. And Zevran followed her, like he always did.