#ps. zev and hamal are more or less monogamous they just don't consider sex a solely romantic activity

[ghostwise]

Zevran is once again struck by the way people change when you leave them alone for a while.

Three times now, the Maker has seen fit to place them in each other's paths. This time, however, rather than feeling regret at all he has missed in his friend's life, he feels only awe at the ways she has grown and the ways she has stayed the same. Isabela listens with a patience he's seldom associated with her, and for that he is grateful.

Still, he's almost afraid to tell her all that has happened.

"It is a very long tale, my dear," he says when she asks. "And I'm afraid it does not portray me in a very positive light."

"Oh, please. Like you're the only one with a past," she teases. "Have you forgotten already how we met?"

"Never," he replies, and she's coaxed a smile out of him despite his worry. It's easy to remember why he loved her--loves her--and trusts her, too. So, having surpassed that slightest bit of resistance with her support, he lets it all pour out in a flood of words.

Everything from Rinnala's betrayal to his contract in Ferelden, to his time during the Blight and Taliesen's death. Everything from the fight against the Crows, to his year spent at Quinta de Talpa, and his travels throughout all of Antiva and beyond. He tells her everything, good and bad, without omission.

It must be some surprise to her; he’s become so honest and vulnerable. But it’s deliberate, and he barrels into it with a certain recklessness because it has been hard-won.

Most of all, he talks about the Warden, like a thread weaving through every single piece of his life. Making his story coherent. Stitching the broken bits whole.

"I must admit, I didn't think him your type then, and I certainly don't now," Isabela says when he's done.

They're lounging on the bed together, barely dressed. Her hair is fanned out across her pillow and she makes a face, features pulling into a delicate pout.

"Please tell me he's not as grim and somber as he seems. Frankly, I’m still surprised he was alright with you and I meeting. Unless..." She sits up, and peers at him, blouse falling over her shoulders. "Unless he doesn't know?"

"He knows," Zevran murmurs against her knee. “He knew who I was when he married me.”

“Good.” Content to hear it, Isabela leans back with a smile. "What a waste it’d be otherwise. I mean, for you as well. Don't change for anyone, Zevran. I mean it. There are far too many miserable marriages in the world. I should know."

For a moment both of them reflect on those words. But they speak to a life long past, and not worth revisiting. After a moment Zevran just sighs with the most lovestruck look she's ever seen him sport.

"Ah, I'd love for you to get to know him as I do..." He strokes her leg gently, hanging onto her, though it is clear his mind is drifting. "He would never ask me to change. He doesn't want to impede me in any way. He sees the depths of me, good and bad, and asks for nothing. I never imagined... Isabela, he makes it so easy, so simple and calm. So you see, because of that, I can give him everything. Because he-"

"Oh, enough!"

Yanking her legs back she tucks them beneath herself and tackles him with a hug, affectionate but very much exasperated.

"You talk about your husband too much, Zevran! No one will ever want to sleep with you!"

Zevran draws in a sharp breath, then he collapses into laughter.

As they laugh and cling to one another, he’s infinitely glad he saved her all those years ago. He’s glad she’s here now. He's glad for every note in his story, from the highest to the lowest.

"Seriously, Zev," Isabela says, as she extricates herself from his embrace and walks to her dresser--truly a vision, as beautiful as she'd been ten years ago. "I'm glad you've found someone to make you happy. You deserve no less. As for the rest, all that matters is that you've kept on living and doing your best. That's all any of us can do."