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velannadisapproves · 7 years

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Zev/Warden Week #6

Prompt: Saturday, August 5 - Family/Papa Zev

Due to unexpected company this weekend, I’m late with this one, and I’ll also be skipping prompt #5. I do still intend to get to #7 tomorrow (also late, sorry), but in case I’m unable to, I want to thank @zevranology for putting on Zev/Warden Week again! It’s a pleasure to participate and is one of the only things that seems to succeed in getting me to sit down and write like this, so thank you for that!

Warnings: Miscarriage. Nothing terribly graphic, but it is an upsetting scene for anyone sensitive to that. It’s a short fic with a happy ending, though, if you can get through the sad middle.

Zevran watches her playing with some of the children of the Denerim Alienage. She's still sore in more ways than one, he knows, only three days after slaying the Archdemon, all aching muscles from what was achieved and an aching heart from what was lost, but she hides it well for them. She dances with them, teases them, takes their admiration for Lalia the Hero and reverts it to kinship with Lalia the Cousin. She laughs, and the sound is more genuine than it has been since the Landsmeet.

They've never discussed children - and why in Thedas would they have after only a year full of more pressing matters - but her ease around them makes him wonder. As they make their slow return to Alistair's newly acquired estate and the rooms he is encourgaing them to stay in for as long as they wish, Zevran cautiously mentions her change in demeanor.

Lalia thinks for a moment, letting her eyes drift the way she does when she's trying to find the words for ever-present thoughts she's never had to express aloud. "I don't think I need to tell you that life's hard for knife ears in this city," she says slowly, her brow creasing. "Those kids are going to face a lot of shit. Seeing someone from next door who can maybe finally do something about it feeling beaten down is the first thing I can spare them."

He thinks her idealism is foolish, that it will probably be the death of her, and he loves her for it. He thinks any child they bring into the better world she creates should be like her, and he'll love them for it, too.

---

A year later, Zevran finds himself waking in the same bed in the same rooms to the sound of Lalia's voice. It's strange and strangled and he realizes too slowly that of the two words she keeps repeating, the one that isn't his name is "help".

In the night, he can barely make out the dark wetness on the lower half of the bed, but he's in the hall in a second. He recognizes that he's running and shouting, but he barely registers it, and the next thing he knows, he's outside the room again with Alistair standing too close. His mind is a jumble of half formed fears. His mother, his mother and Rinna and Talisen, and now the baby. And now, oh not her, anything but her. The way he killed his mother, the way he's killing her now, everyone he's ever loved, she's dying and it's his fault-

The king before him gently grasps his shoulder, and it breaks the trance. Zevran's hand clutches at Alistair's nightshirt, his wide eyes focus on his face above, and he can almost hear him saying, "...going to be alright, but...Zev, the baby..."

"Lalia is going to be alright," Zevran repeats, his voice an empty monotone. Alistair confirms twice before he fully understands, and some of the weight crushing the air from his body has been lifted. He closes his eyes and buries his face in his friend's royal chest, and both the fabric and their faces are damp by the end of their embrace.

He's able to return to her what seems like hours later, after the healers have finished working their magic and the servants have washed and dressed her and moved her to a clean bed. He is afraid to touch her, but she pulls him down beside her and kisses his hands, which she keeps firmly in her own, and when she apologizes to him, he feels like he might vomit.

"I know we talked about the taint and how rare it is for Grey Wardens to..." Lalia trails off as she fails to hold back tears. After a few moments, she finally is able to look him in the eyes and finish. "I know you were so excited. If you can't...if its too hard knowing I'll never be able to... Zevran, I'm so sor-"

Zevran tears his hands from hers and cups her face in them, kisses her forehead while inhaling sharply. "Don't," he whispers into her skin, and his eyes feel hot again. "There is no need. It is no one's fault." He still feels it is his. "All that matters is that you are here with me, my love."

Lalia tilts her chin upward so she can press her lips to his. "Same to you," she murmurs, quiet but composed. The sight of the weak smile on her face actually reaching her eyes is enough to push Zevran to tears once more, and he holds her through the sleepless night, grateful that her grip on him remains equally tight.

---

Zevran glances up at her playing with two of the children they've rescued from the most recently terminated Crow House, a Dalish boy and a human girl who only go by Demmick and Mag and who would barely look at either of them or speak at all until about three weeks ago. She's somehow worked her magic on these two and has them running from her across the field, their shrill little voices alternating between laughter and shrieks depending on how close she is to catching them.

"Zeeev," the elven babe on his lap, Pim, barely old enough to talk, whines impatiently. "Story!"

He looks back down at her and smiles. "My apologies, little one," he says sincerely. "It's hard to focus with such a ruckus nearby. As I was saying, the brave Hero charged up the steps to face the demons waiting ahead...."

They've never discussed it - and why in Thedas would they after having only been caring for the three for two months, after talking seriously about where to take them where they would be safe and happy - but they have already changed from the children to their children in his mind. He knows it's foolish; their lives are still too dangerous to take on the extra task of rearing young ones, much less three at once, but he slips after they've put them to bed that night.

"Our kids?" Lalia asks, blinking in surprise. Her expression shifts to one of consideration, and then a soft smile forms on her lips. "That sounds kind of nice."

#zevwarden week #zevran/tabris #zevran arainai #dragon age #dragon age origins #miscarriage tw

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velannadisapproves · 7 years

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Zev/Warden Week #4

Prompt: Thursday, August 3rd - AU Day

Art school AU! I rarely write AUs, but I had a lot of fun with this! Warnings: foul-mouthed, horny college kids (only mentioned dirty thoughts, nothing graphic), and though the main intended pairing is Zev/Warden, you could argue that this is implied Zevran/Alistair(/Warden) as well or at least attraction between the two, depending on how you want to read it.

"Alright, class, I'd like to introduce our model for the day," Professor Duncan announced as he entered the room a couple minutes late with a young man in a robe in tow.

"Model?" Alistair asked quietly, leaning away from his easel to get a good look at the stranger following their instructor.

"Yeah," Lalia replied, matching his volume and not so much as glancing up from her supplies as she finished preparing for the lesson. "Don't you ever check the syllabus? We've got a life model today."

"Does that mean-" Alistair began only to be cut off.

"This is Zevran," Duncan continued, waving a hand to present the stranger. "Since I know this is a first for several of you, I'm going to quickly go over some ground rules before setting you all loose. Zevran is here as a professional, and you will all treat him as such. Don't distract him with chit chat, don't ask him personal questions or get in his space, and I hope I shouldn't have to say no touching or photography. In short, don't be gross. Any questions?"

The classroom was silent.

"Good. We'll be going over time today; if you have places you need to be, it won't count against you, of course, but please leave quietly. We're going to spend the first fifteen minutes on a warm up pose, then cycle through three five minute poses for quick sketches, and then we'll take a short break before finishing up with a longer twenty-five minute pose." The professor looked over his students one final time before stepping away to give Zevran his full stage. "Whenever you're ready, Zevran."

Lalia looked up from her tools right as the robe hit the floor. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she found her gaze glued to him. It wasn't the young man's nakedness that gave her pause. She's known she'd be drawing a nude model; she just hadn't anticipated him being so. incredibly. attractive.

Alistair's small, strangled noise beside her was enough to pull her attention away. 'Thank the Maker,' she thought. 'I can't believe I was gonna gawk at this dude like a fucking creep. Come on, Lal, get it together.' She turned to look to her left at Alistair and almost laughed; he was a red brighter than any paint she'd ever seen, fumbling with his pencils and pointedly avoiding looking beyond the sketchbook directly in front of him. "What's wrong, Ali?" she teased in a whisper.

"N-Nothing, I just, I wasn't, I didn't," he stuttered. He finally picked the pencil he wanted and swallowed hard. "I should have read the syllabus," he concluded, forcing his eyes to make the most furtive glance back up to the model so he could start his drawing.

She managed to condense her mirth into a single snort before turning her eyes back to the front. The model - 'Zevran's a pretty name, wonder where it's from' - had assumed a simple standing pose, one hand in his hair at his temple and the other behind his back, balancing with one foot in front of the other. Lalia scrutinized his facial features, trying to ignore the unsolicited input from her libido, and set to work.

After the first few minutes, she pulled herself back to compare her progress to the real thing and found her efforts to be lacking. Frustrated, she erased a few lines to attempt them again only to be equally disappointed. 'I can't quite capture...something about him.' Her mouth scrunched to the side as she examined her drawing, trying to pinpoint what she was getting wrong. When no solution jumped out at her from the graphite, she looked up at him again.

Her eyes roamed across his form, studying him intensely, trying to find something to help her move past her block. Sun-kissed skin and blonde hair, long lashes and full lips, even his tattoos seemed to be positioned with the exclusive purpose of accentuating his lean muscles and high cheek bones. She lingered, staring at him for a solid minute and a half before she mentally lamented, 'Shit. I just can't draw someone that hot.'

Zevran's eyes suddenly flicked to meet her gaze, and Lalia felt the blood rush to her cheeks. The corners of his mouth quirked upward almost imperceptibly, and he gave her a wink so fast she thought she might have imagined it.

"Alright," Duncan called out so abruptly that Alistair dropped his pencil and Lalia nearly fell from her stool. "That's it for the warm up. Next, the series of short poses."

Zevran shifted so that he was on the ball of one foot, extending the other leg to the side with his toes pointed and positioning his arms before his body as a dancer might. As Lalia sketched, she thought she caught him looking her way. 'Yeah right, I wish.'

After five minutes, Duncan called for Zevran to switch again. This time the model turned his back to the class and linked his hands behind his head. His face was in profile over one shoulder, and this time there was no mistaking it for her imagination when he looked right at Lalia and cracked a smile. He then glanced to her left and clearly struggled to stifle a laugh.

Lalia took a peek at Alistair and saw that her friend's hand was trembling ever so slightly, and was that sweat on his forehead? She looked away before she burst into giggles and did her best to focus on actually making marks on her own paper.

Another five minutes passed. Zevran turned back around, gave both Lalia and Alistair a not-so-subtle look, and then slowly descended into a full split. He stretched his torso down over the leg in front of him, holding his foot with visible ease. His mouth was hidden behind his arm, but Lalia could tell from his eyes that he was grinning. The combination of flexibility and flirtatious confidence had Lalia swallowing along with Alistair this time, and they both scribbled furiously until Duncan announced a five minute break.

Alistair and Lalia both put their pencils down as nonchalantly as they could and made their way out of the room, talking a little too loudly about needing to stretch and get a drink and avoiding looking at Zevran pulling his robe back on as they exited. As soon as the door closed behind them and it became clear no other students were going to follow them, they rounded on each other at the same time.

"What the fuck, dude!" Lalia was barely able to keep her voice at stage-whisper level as she gestured back toward the classroom.

"I know! I KNOW!" Alistair's voice nearly cracked.

"I mean, the splits!?"

"Look, I know you're super into it, but it seems kind of inappropriate, " he hissed, his cheeks burning.

At that moment, Duncan stepped out of the room, coffee mug in hand. Upon seeing his students' body language, he stopped short. "Is everything okay out here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "You two having a tiff?"

"No!" they both scoffed in unison.

"Okaayyy then. I'm going to grab some coffee real quick before we get started on the final half. If you two are cool, would you mind stepping back inside and keeping an eye on things until I get back?"

"Sure thing, Professor, no problem whatsoever," Alistair responded with a nervous laugh that clearly failed to convince their instructor. Thankfully, rather than prying, the older man merely looked them over once more before continuing toward the nearest break room.

Lalia rolled her eyes. "You're about as suave as a mabari, you know that?"

"You obviously haven't spent much time with one. They can be very persuasive."

The two slipped back into the classroom as unobtrusively as possible. A couple of their classmates had engaged the model in conversation, all of them perched on stools and looking relaxed, allowing Alistair and Lalia to scurry back to their easels and pretend to prep for the second half of the class. They were saved from awkwardly shuffling their respective supplies around for a third time when Duncan reentered the room and called for the final pose.

Zevran sat on the floor, right leg bent with his foot flat and the other leg folded inward resting on the ground. He placed his right elbow on his raised knee, lazily draped his left arm across his other leg, and rested his temple on the curled knuckles of his right hand. Finally, he inclined his chin to expose his neck. He looked directly at Lalia once more, eyes narrowed and lips smirking, but this time he maintained eye contact.

Lalia tried to swallow again, but her throat was suddenly dry. Was he making fun of her? Was this something ridiculously attractive people did for kicks? Pose for drawing classes and mock weak-willed young artists who just wanted to get some- 'Andraste's chapped ass, you can think about his dick all you want as long as you're fucking drawing!'

The next few minutes were a unique sort of agony, but once Lalia finally got into a rhythm, she found herself working quickly. No longer distracting herself with frantically chasing any lewd thoughts from her mind, she let herself appreciate a man who clearly loved being appreciated. Toward the end of the class, she realized that it had been much easier to capture his likeness this time. She compared her work with the personification of sex in front of her and decided she...actually didn't hate it, which was pretty much the closest to feeling pride in her artwork that she got.

She was just finishing up the last of his tattoos when Duncan called time. "Alright, everyone, let's thank our model," he prompted, nodding in satisfaction at the chorus of thanks that followed. "That's it for today. Have a great weekend, finish your assignments that are due Monday, make good choices." With that, he began packing up just as hastily as everyone else and was the first out of the room.

Alistair leaned over to look at her sketchbook. "Hey, Lali, that's really good," he said, honest admiration in his tone.

Lalia gave his work a look as well. "Hey, Ali, no offense, but did you give up halfway through?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Alistair muttered, "We made eye contact once, and I couldn't risk it again."

"Wanna know my secret?" Lalia murmured softly. "I gave in and let the sexy thoughts guide my hand." She waggled her fingers in front of his face.

"An excellent way of life," an unfamiliar voice commented beside them, and they both jumped. Zevran had somehow gotten entirely too close without either of them noticing. He'd slipped back into his robe but hadn't bothered to secure it closed, and he gave them a broad smile as their eyes trailed downward only to snap immediately back up to his face. "May I see?"

The two blushing artists shuffled back a step to give him room. Zevran hummed his approval of Lalia's efforts. "Yes, all of those long looks clearly paid off," he teased. Without waiting for a reply, he turned to Alistair's. "You, on the other hand, should listen to your friend. If you're in need of more sexy thoughts material, perhaps we could arrange a private session?"

Alistair stammered incoherently and looked like he wanted very badly to melt into the floor.

"Or not," Zevran shrugged. He turned back to Lalia with that disarming smile at full force. "May I see your pencil? There is one little detail I'd like to add, if you don't mind."

Lalia handed over the requested tool, and, when Zevran turned his back to her to scribble something on her paper, shot Alistair a confused look which mirrored his own. She whipped her gaze back to Zevran as he turned around and returned her pencil.

"It's hard to get a pretty artist's name when she doesn't sign her work," the model observed smoothly.

The artist in question somehow managed to compose her features into a flirty expression that rivaled the model's. "I'm Lalia," she replied. "It was a pleasure working with you today."

Zevran smiled. "Here's hoping I can provide more pleasure soon." He winked at her, gave Alistair one last smile, and then turned to leave, adjusting his robe as he walked away.

Once the door had closed behind him, Lalia exhaled sharply.

"Oooh, Zevran, it was a pleasure working with you," Alistair mocked in a falsetto.

"Oooh, Zevran, I can't answer you because I'm too busy hiding my boner," Lalia retorted, her voice a childish whine.

"Hey!"

Lalia suddenly remembered Zevran's request and leaned over to examine her sketchbook. She looked her drawing over twice but couldn't find anything added or altered. Then she noticed some markings in the lower corner and looked closer. It was a phone number and a note inside a little heart.

Call me! -Zev

Outside the heart, the message was continued in parenthesis.

(And feel free to pass on my number if your friend changes his mind.)

Lalia couldn't help the grin that split her face. She pointed it out to Alistair, but she was already too busy trying to decide how soon would be too soon to call to try to understand her friend's exasperated sputtering.

#zevwarden week #zevran arainai #dragon age #dragon age origins #zevran x warden #alistair theirin

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velannadisapproves · 7 years

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Zev/Warden Week #3

Prompt: Wednesday, August 2 - Fancy Dress

Lalia and Zevran are at the Winter Palace the night of the negotiations because reasons.

She was wearing a gown with a hoop large enough to hide three of her beneath it, a mask that concealed the entire top half of her face, and her hair in an intricate up-do he couldn't imagine her having sat still long enough to have done, but Zevran recognized her instantly and hastily covered his surprise with a sip from the delicate crystal goblet of wine he had been nursing for an hour. He gracefully excused himself from the fruitless conversation he had been engaged in with three noble ladies, smoothing any affront with a kiss to each of their hands and promises to dance with each later, and disappeared into the crowd to make his way to his target undetected.

He slipped behind her, brushed a bit of hair behind her ear, and purred, "It must have taken you hours to get into this dress. Care to see how quickly I can get you out of it?"

Lalia's lips curved into a small smile. "I think even your clever hands would have some trouble with this abomination," she murmured. "Unless you intend to rip it off me, that is."

"That could be arranged," Zevran quipped, stepping around her massive skirt to face her directly. "Why didn't you mention you'd be here? If you had told me, we could have coordinated outfits." He laughed at the disgust that contorted her features beneath her mask.

"Alistair asked me to come," Lalia explained. "He wanted extra eyes here after getting warning from Leliana that things might get interesting tonight. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to distract you from Crow stuff. How'd you know it was me? Do I look that out of place?"

"I'd know that mouth anywhere," he teased, his gazes lingering on her lips before drifting lower.

The neckline of her dress was far lower than anything she normally wore, and the heavy necklace glittering around her slender neck, surely borrowed, complimented her bare skin nicely. Despite being probably the last outfit on Thedas that she would choose to adorn, she wore it well, and this degree of frippery on her was unusual enough to be oddly enticing. With the seed of the idea of tearing the expensive fabrics and jewels from her body planted, Zevran found it difficult to concentrate on much else.

He glanced back up to find her lips now forming a pert little v. Lalia's eyes were obscured by her mask, but he could tell she had been looking him over in much the same way. His frock coat was detailed in intricate embroidery, and the clothing beneath it was equally ostentatious. His mask covered only the left half of his face, but his hair was done nearly as impressively as hers. He was something of a sight in this sort of dress, and if he weren't already sure that she knew it, the flush spreading across her exposed skin as he stood before her left no doubt in his mind.

Zevran leaned in as close as he could to murmur, "I'm already confident that I'm going to find few leads here."

"There’s a wing that’s blocked off back down that way," Lalia replied, needing no further prompting. She turned to lead him away from the main ballroom when suddenly a voice started announcing the honoured guests of the evening. Both she and Zevran turned back to look down the hall at the figures in bright red coats progressing across the floor.

"Is that-?"

"Lady Leliana, Nightingale of the Imperial Court," the voice cried.

Zevran and Lalia looked at one another incredulously before stifling their laughter behind their hands. "Oh, poor Leliana! She's probably already had the person who picked those uniforms killed."

#zevwarden week #dragon age #zevran/tabris

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velannadisapproves · 7 years

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Zev/Warden Week #2

Prompt: Tuesday, August 1 - Domestic

I fear I only loosely followed the prompt for the second day, but hopefully it still counts! I think that once Zevran worked out some of his feelings and hang ups, he’d be all about enjoying whatever domesticity he can get with his love and would eagerly lead the way if they felt unsure about the transition from fighting 24/7.

The realization is sudden. They've spent the morning in the market, leisurely browsing the stalls and making small talk with the vendors. Out of habit, Lalia examines the weapons and inquires about armour; hunting for gear for her companions has become a reflex after a year of it being necessity. She picks up a shield, testing the weight to see if it would be something Alistair might find useful, and then the thought crosses her mind, 'Not that he'll really need it now that he's a king and all.'

It shakes her enough that her physical response, her body stiffening and her breath catching, is enough for Zevran to notice from the opposite end of the table. He is at her side a second later. He says something she doesn't hear over the buzzing in her head, but she does see the wide, easy smile plastered on his face meant to keep any onlookers from paying too much attention to his low tone and alert eyes and knows she's alarmed him.

"It's okay, I just - I -" Lalia fumbles for a moment before taking a breath and setting the shield down. “It’s over," she says finally. “It’s over, and they’re gone.”

Zevran looks baffled for a moment before the pieces fit into place in his mind. His smile is gentle, reassuring. "They've been able to return to their lives thanks in no small part to you," he says, resting a hand on her shoulder. "To better lives, I'm sure," he adds more softly.

She smiles back at him, but her eyes still look lost. "I've been so focused on one thing for a year - stopping a sodding Blight - that I guess I never thought much about what would come after," she confesses. "I'm not really sure what to do with myself now that I'm not marching all over Ferelden on a ridiculous mission to save the world."

Zevran looks at her for a moment; then, he laces the fingers of one hand between hers. "I think I understand," he says, and they both know he does. "Do you know what I would like to do, now that I'm no longer tagging along all over Ferelden on a ridiculous mission to save the world?”

“What?”

“I think I would like to enjoy a stroll through this square and down to the docks, eventually return to my rooms, and spend the rest of the day making passionate love, preferably to a fabled hero. And maybe have lunch somewhere in there." His face splits into a grin. "If you can think of nothing else to do with yourself, you're welcome to join me."

Lalia laughs, kisses him on the corner of his mouth, allows him to lead her away from the glinting metalwork and toward a stall of colourful silks. Her grip on his hand tightens, and he doesn't let go.

#zevwarden week #zevran arainai #dragon age #dragon age origins #zevran/tabris

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velannadisapproves · 7 years

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Zev/Warden Week #1

Prompt: Monday, July 31 - Massage

"C-can I try it? On you, I mean?"

Lalia's request, abrupt and hastily spat out, caught Zevran enough by surprise that he stopped mid-reach. In the tent they now shared, with the smell of sweat and sex heavy in the air, he had kissed the back of her neck before moving toward his pack to dig out a bottle of scented oil. Sandalwood was what he had been after; she always sighed a little over the smell, which was so utterly Fereldan of her to prefer the smell of wood over the more delicate fragrances he had used that he couldn't help a small, amused smile from tugging at his lips whenever she made her little noise of appreciation every time he opened the bottle. He had just spotted it when her question caught him off guard.

"You...do you mean you wish to give me a massage?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lalia hummed her confirmation, moving beside him and beginning to rummage through his pack while pointedly avoiding eye contact like she did when she expected rejection from him. It was a look he had never seen her wear in any other circumstance; it always made his throat clench to see and was the one expression, above all others, he wanted on her face as little as possible.

"I don't know a damn thing about massages except that they feel amazing, and I want to try to do that for you," she explained, picking out a bottle and pulling its stopper to check the scent. She made a face at the smell, replaced the stopper, and continued her search. She paused briefly to glance at him out of the corner of her eye before adding, "If you'd want that, of course. It only seems fair, though, since you're always doing it for me anymore."

It was true that giving her post-coital massages had become almost as regular as the sex itself. And almost more intimate. Or at least, that's what the murky emotions that came creeping through him more and more in their time alone seemed to whisper to him. Emotions he told himself he neither needed nor desired. Emotions he quietly feared he didn't deserve anyway. Emotions that weren't helped at all by the tenderness she, for whatever reason, kept showering on him in the form of gifts and considerate behaviour.

Shaking his head softly, half in response and half to shake himself out of his rapidly spiraling train of thought, Zevran smiled and held up his hands, giving Lalia more space to find what she was looking for. "Whatever I have done to give you the impression that I am the sort of man who would ever pass up the opportunity to be oiled up by a naked woman, please let me know so I can be sure to never do it again."

Lalia responded with a breathy laugh as she pulled another bottle from his pack. She gave it a try and, having evidently found what she'd be searching for, pointed to the bed roll they shared. "Lie down, and we'll see if you don't end up changing your mind about that," she said lightly. After he complied, she straddled him low across his back and poured some of the oil on her hands, rubbing them to warm it the way she'd seen him do it so many times before. "Seriously, I've never done anything like this before, so correct me if I'm doing something wrong."

The smell of lavender and vanilla reached him as her slick finger tips met the skin beneath his shoulder blades. "I'm not concerned; I know what talents your hands are capable of," he purred, closing his eyes to focus on the feeling of pressure gliding slowly up his back and then back down again.

For the first several minutes, Zevran could feel Lalia's tension in the uncertain way she touched him, but with time and some encouraging sounds from him, her movements became more confident. She explored his muscles in sections, doing her best to elicit a positive response from him, and he was delighted to find that she was succeeding much faster than he would have thought. A few sighs and one genuine, low moan later, Zevran found his thoughts drifting away from her technique and...

...and he was blinking groggily at the tent canvas before him, lit dimly by the camp fire a short ways beyond. He realized, sluggishly, that Lalia was at his side rather than on top of him, pulling a blanket over them both, and his heart leapt into his throat.

"Sorry," she said softly. "I was trying not to wake you."

Zevran did his best to calm himself. "I can't believe I fell asleep," he said, tired enough to be all mumbles and honesty.

Lalia snuggled up closer to him, threading one hand through his hair and bringing the other up to waggle her fingers in front of his face. "Seems you don't know everything these things can do," she teased.

He caught her hand in his and brought her finger tips to his lips, taking a moment to enjoy the sweet smell still lingering on them. "Evidently not. Care to enlighten me furth-" The rest of his sentence was abruptly replaced by a yawn.

"Maybe later," Lalia responded. She kissed him gently, and he could feel her amused smile against his mouth. "Let's get some rest." She closed her eyes, her hand still in his. "Sleep well, Zevran."

Zevran looked at her in the darkness and felt those emotions edging back to the front of his mind, but for now, they didn't feel quite so troubling. They sort of felt...good. He closed his eyes, thankful that sleep was waiting nearby to save him from the thoughts and doubts this new realization was sure to bring but far enough that he was able to spend a couple moments enjoying it. "Sleep well, my warden."

#zevwarden week #zevran arainai #dragon age #dragon age origins #zevran/tabris

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velannadisapproves · 8 years

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safe

Lalia Tabris doesn’t handle the Broodmother very well and is refusing to sleep on their way out of the Deep Roads. Zevran offers some unexpectedly innocent comfort.

1,610 words. Sten has just shooed her to bed, and Lalia still doesn’t realize Zevran’s flirting is sincere. Warnings: Some Zev-typical sexual humour and a curse word.

~ Though she told herself she would try to get some rest, Lalia knew she would more likely be spending the next several hours staring up at the tunnel's ceiling from her bedroll, and she sighed heavily as she made her way to where she had left her pack near her scattered, now sleeping companions. She spotted it propped against a boulder on the far side of a still form and moved as soundlessly as she could toward it.

"I see our laconic friend convinced you to abandon your post," an Antivan accent teased softly from the dimness as Zevran stirred by her feet, a hint of grogginess in his voice. "Did he use his words or merely glare at you menacingly until you gave in?"

Lalia looked down at him with a tired smile. "Sorry for waking you, Zev," she apologized in a whisper. "I'll try to be quick." She hurriedly stepped around him to crouch by her pack and began unpacking her bedding.

Zevran sat up and turned to watch her. "No need to apologize. If you could approach without waking me, then I'd be a shame to the Crows," he replied, his usual playfulness still evident even in a hush. "Well, more of one, I suppose." He hunched over to rest his chin in his hands as he observed her trying to remove her bedroll and unfurl it as silently as possible. "Do you need any assistance? I could happily provide a number of services to help you get to sleep."

She focused on fixing her bedroll to keep from rolling her eyes, but she couldn't help smirking. "Oh yeah? Are we talking sexy services or potentially fatal services?"

"Both," he quipped with a grin before adding, "Or neither. I know an Antivan lullaby or two, or I could bore you unconscious by describing each rock around us in great detail. Truthfully, all it would take is my fingers on a few pressure points to render you unconscious, but whatever you might wish, I would be happy to help."

Finally finished with adjusting padding and covers, Lalia stripped off her boots and light armour before sitting down on her bedding and curling her knees up to her chest. "Thanks, I appreciate it, but I doubt I'm gonna be able to get any decent rest. Not while I can't stop thinking about this-" She was going to say 'broodmother shit', but she caught herself, unwilling to speak the monstrous name for fear she might vomit, either her guts onto the stone floor again or her fears onto unfortunate ears. Instead of searching for words to complete her sentence, she waved a hand vaguely at their surroundings.

Zevran clicked his tongue. "Come now, there must be something that helps you drift off."

Lalia considered keeping up their game of flirting - it was helping her mood, truth be told, just to be talking with him in this trivial way - but in her current vulnerable state, she was giving an honest answer before she even realized it. "When I was little, my cousin Shianni lived with me and my parents for a while, and whenever I couldn't sleep, I would sneak over to her bed and ask to sleep there." Her face softened at the memory, and her gaze slipped from Zevran to her knees as she continued, "She'd make fun of me for it, but she always let me in. Something about being next to another person made me feel...I dunno, relaxed? Safe? It helped."

Her confession was met with silence, and Lalia wondered if her story had bored Zevran back to sleep. Then she heard a rustling and looked up to see him moving his bedroll closer to hers. As he laid back down, she opened her mouth to make some deflecting remark, but then he held up the thin sheet he was using as a blanket in invitation. Lalia's first thought was that he was mocking her, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but the look in his eyes made his sincerity clear.

Zevran reached his free hand out to gently grasp hers and wordlessly led her under his cover until they were lying face to face. He rested his head on one arm and positioned the other lightly around her waist. After a few long minutes, Lalia's stiff discomfort began to drain away, and she slowly crept one hand forward to rest it against his chest. In the stillness, she could just feel his heart beating steadily under her fingers, and she closed her eyes and focused on the rhythm.

The smell of him surrounded her, and with the image of his golden eyes in mind and the sound of his quiet breathing in her ears, she finally let the darkness take her.

---

"-ia...Lalia. Wake up, my dear Warden."

Lalia slowly opened her eyes to find her face pressed against the warmth of another body. She quickly recoiled, sitting upright and stammering, "Ah, s-sorry, I didn't, uhm, I hope I didn't-"

Zevran's gentle laughter interrupted her, and he looked up at her with eyes sparkling in amusement. "This sort of thing tends to happen when you share a bed with someone, no?" he teased, keeping his voice down. "I'm glad you were able to sleep soundly. It's unfortunate that it had to end so soon, but I thought you might prefer to be in your own bedroll before the others awaken."

Shooting a quick glance toward where their party lie sleeping on nearby, Lalia absently brushed her hair behind an ear. "You got that right," she murmured, relief in her tone. She noticed Zevran's easy smile tighten almost imperceptibly, but she wrote it off as a trick of the shifting light and continued, "If Alistair found out I needed someone to hold me like a baby to get to sleep, I'd never hear the end of it. And Sten would probably think I'm even less fit to lead than he already does." She sighed in mock dejection before reaching out to squeeze his hand. "Thank you, Zevran."

His expression seemed to soften once more, and she was less sure that the ancient fire was to blame. "That's what everyone always says after a night with yours truly," he responded, but his tone didn't quite match his flippant words. He shifted his hand to lace their fingers together before bringing her knuckles to his lips for a chaste kiss, gazing up at her with an enticing look in those golden eyes all the while. "But from you, querida, thanks are unnecessary. You are welcome in my bed any time."

Lalia felt her heartbeat quicken and mentally cursed herself for being affected by his charm; she knew his words were insincere, but that didn't stop her from becoming more susceptible to them seemingly every time they spoke. "Is this the sultry look you give to all your unsuspecting targets?" she asked, forcing her visage to match his as best she could.

"Maybe."

"And does it work?"

"You tell me."

Lalia merely returned his gaze in silence for a moment before her lips parted and she began leaning toward him slowly. Zevran's eyebrows quirked upward so slightly and his breathing changed so briefly that she wouldn't have noticed had she not been looking for some signal that she'd caught him off guard. Her face cracked into a wide grin when recognition flashed in his eyes immediately after; he'd lost this round of their flirtation game. "Too bad I'm not an unsuspecting target."

Zevran sighed his agreement, "Too bad, indeed." He gave her hand one more kiss before letting it go and turning his head in a dramatic pout. "You are a cruel tease."

"I think you like it," she replied, slipping from under his sheet to stand and stretch.

"You caught me," he said cheerily, eyeing her figure with a blatancy only he could muster and humming in appreciation. He snickered when she playfully swatted at him and barely shifted to avoid the light smack that wouldn't have reached him anyhow.

Lalia packed her things swiftly, eager to continue their return trek to Orzammar. A night's rest had renewed her spirits remarkably. She still couldn't wait to be out of the tunnels and back under the sky, but at least she no longer felt such a crushing desperation to escape.

By the time she had her armour on and her boots laced up, Zevran had put away his bedroll, donned his own light armour, and was working on strapping his weapons to himself. Lalia moved to help him.

Zevran stilled as she grabbed the thick belts from his hands and quickly fastened their buckles across his chest, unsure of how to respond to such unprecedented assistance from her. "A beautiful woman helping me into a leather harness," he mused. "This is an excellent start to the day."

"Don't get too excited," Lalia chided. "I'm just trying to get a move on. Oghren said we should be able to make it to Orzammar shortly after nightfall; I want to try to catch the sunset."

"Such ambition," he said approvingly.

Without replying, Lalia pulled at the belts to ensure they were secure and looked him over before nodding her satisfaction. She looked up at his face, at those beautiful eyes gazing back at her, and felt the need to thank him once more. Rather than risking him brushing off her gratitude, however, she decided to plant a quick kiss on his cheek before turning just as suddenly to walk away. "Let's go wake the others."

"An excellent start to the day," she heard him repeat behind her, and she couldn't help but smile.

#dragon age #zevran x warden #zevran arainai #warden tabris #dragon age origins #zevran/tabris #lalia tabris

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velannadisapproves · 8 years

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Zev/Warden Week #7

I’m laaate. I wrote this on very little sleep, so it’s somewhat disjointed and choppy. I couldn’t pick any part of Life After Endgame to focus on. Oh well~ I’m sad to see Zev/Warden week end and have enjoyed participating immensely!

Prompt: Sunday, August 7th - “All I need to know is if there might be some future for us, some possibility of...I do not know what.”

One by one, everyone around him stops fighting. Allies turn toward the Palace District; foes try to flee. Zevran spares a single glance at the brilliant light emanating from the top of Fort Drakon before continuing to hack at the Darkspawn. He gives chase to any unfortunate enough to be in his vicinity. He cuts them down as the first wave of cheers erupts behind him. The sound feels heavy enough to suffocate him.

When he has run out of enemies to fell, he stops, but still he cannot bear to look. He notices Oghren beside him, gazing into the distance with a rare sober expression, and he appreciates the dwarf's wordless sympathy more than he could have imagined possible.

Wynne approaches next, with Lalia's mabari close at her heels. She puts a hesitant hand on his shoulder. When these people had come to think of him as a friend - and more strikingly, when he had come to consider them such - he could not say. It was because of her; it was all because of her. He tries to swallow, but his tongue has somehow become too thick.

Sten joins them several moments later. He breaks their silence. "They return," he says. He pauses, adds, "She is with them."

They turn as one to look at the qunari, dumbfounded, and as the towering warrior turns back to the crowd gathering to catch a glimpse of their heroes, Zevran finds himself running ahead. He leaps onto a pile of rubble that puts him at even height with Sten. His heart thunders loud enough to drown out the triumphant roars that fill the air.

He sees her. She is clearly injured; Alistair and Leliana are supporting her as they make their way through the people. She is looking around frantically, doing her best to stand on her toes to get a better view.

Their eyes meet. Her face breaks into a smile. He lets out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. Wynne and Oghren are adding their voices to the din, and even Sten raises a fist in victory, but Zevran can only stare in disbelief.

Later, much later, after they've all seen healers and scrubbed the gore from themselves, he slips into her room and waits longer still. The moon is high when she finally enters, and when she turns to see him, she drops the bottle she is carrying. It shatters, and the smell of elfroot floods the air as she rushes into his arms.

"How?" is the only syllable he can manage.

"Later," she bests him with two, and her lips are on his.

---

Neither of them had expected her to live, and it shows in her face when Alistair, King Alistair, asks what she intends to do next. She glances at Zevran before answering that she would like to stay and advise him until she sees improvement in the Alienage under his rule.

During the celebrations, she tells Zevran she would love for him to stay with her. As long as it is what he would like, of course.

It is, of course.

---

They part. She is off to Vigil's Keep to become Warden-Commander. He is off to Antiva to tear the Crows apart from within. They write often over the next several months. They send gifts. They send their love. Everything seems fine.

Word comes from Alistair, surprisingly. 'She'll kill me if she knows I've told you. It's far too soon, but she says she hears it already. She wanted to figure out why before she told you, but I thought you should know. Just in case.'

He arrives at Vigil's Keep shortly thereafter. She is angry that Alistair told him. He is furious that she didn't. They exchange tense words in what quickly becomes their worst fight. They apologize, but flippant, infuriating woman that she is, she makes a sardonic comment about his next gift to her being a bottle of poison to take to the Deep Roads, and he cannot handle the thought of being responsible for the death of another person he loves. Not even in jest. Not even at her request.

He leaves. He sends no letters.

---

He returns nearly two years later. He approaches, directly rather than stealthily, during morning drills with over three dozen new recruits. He affects a sly smile when she sees him, hoping it masks his trepidation. He notices the ring still in her ear and feels bolder. He opens his mouth to give a greeting he has practiced more times than he would ever admit. He sees the hard glint of her eyes and closes it again.

She has Oghren take up the lead and practically drags Zevran to her private quarters. Alone, she examines his face, searching silently for some sign he does not know how to give. He expects her to shout at him, possibly even to cry, but she does neither. She looks thin and tired. She finally asks, "What if you'd waited all this time, and I hadn't been here?"

He has thought of the possibility every day. He has no good explanation and doesn't try to give her any of the bad ones.

She speaks again when he cannot, and her apology surprises him. "I shouldn't have said that."

"I shouldn't have left," he replies.

This time, he doesn't. Not without her. Never again.

---

The song is bearable, she insists. It has been four years. No one in the order understands why it started so soon or why she hasn’t yet succumb to it. Something to do with the Architect, perhaps, or even Urthemiel, an effect of their souls brushing as Morrigan’s magic prevented them both from being destroyed. Whatever the reason, she says she can handle it. She promises to let him know if that changes. They both try not to linger on it more than necessary.

She is ready to give up the title of Warden-Commander. She is ready to move on. She comes with him to Antiva, laughing over the rumours they leave in their wake. She tries to learn the language, and when she first tells him she loves him in his own tongue, he thinks her ridiculous Fereldan accent is the sweetest sound in the entire world.

Sometimes, she helps him in his efforts against the Crows. Sometimes, she flits off on a brief adventure, to see and learn and do all she can, but she always returns to him after no more than a month or so. Everything seems fine. He knows better than to hope it will stay that way.

Sometimes, she becomes distant. She gets distracted, seemingly by nothing, but he knows it's not nothing. She can't sleep, and when she does, he stays up and memorizes her face and buries his own in his hands.

"There might be a cure," she tells him one evening.

They leave the next morning to search for it. He knows better than to hope, but he does anyway.

#zevwarden week #zevran arainai #zevran/tabris #dragon age origins #dragon age

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velannadisapproves · 8 years

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Zev/Warden Week #6

I think I cheated a little for today’s prompt, whoops. Zevran cautioning a city elf against making a deal with Caladrius stayed with me after my first playthrough, and for whatever reason, it was the first thing I thought of when imagining him and Lalia sparring.

Prompt: Saturday, August 6th - “It will be fun. I will make it fun.”

"I suggest you look those elves in the eyes before you agree to have them hauled off to slavery, my friend."

Zevran instantly regretted opening his mouth. The way Lalia turned from Caladrius to look at him, expression blank except for the hardness in her gaze, made his throat constrict. He did his best not to shrink under that look, brief as it was, and for once did not immediately rush to her side in the ensuing battle. The deadly glint in her eyes, one he had never before seen, made clear to him that she had a single target in mind, and he focused on keeping her path clear, taking down any foe that might impede her bloody justice against the Tevinter slaver.

When it was done, she stood over the mage's body, choking in ragged breaths. The ghastly sneer on her gore-covered face sent a thrill down his spine and a wave of nausea through his belly. He said her name, softly, and nearly flinched as she whirled on him.

"Look them in the eyes?" she demanded in a snarl. "Did you really think I would make a deal with a slaver for the lives of my people? My family?" She took three quick strides as she spoke to stand before him, her lips twitching back to reveal clenched teeth and her daggers quivering in her wrathful fists.

He maintained eye contact as best he could with her pupils darting wildly around his face, taking in every movement of every muscle. "I apologize," he said, truthfully, then continued, less so, "At times, you have surprised me with your ruthlessness-" He was trying to rationalize, but she cut him off, and he was grateful for it because even he didn’t believe his words.

"When have I ever shipped a single soul off with slavers, Zevran?" she practically growled. "What have I done that would make you think I would sell anyone for a piece of paper? For some coin?"

“Fair enough. I was merely surprised you would even entertain his offer-”

“I wanted to know exactly what we were worth to that shem before I made him pay.”

To his relief, Alistair coughed nervously, and her rage was redirected as she barked an order for him and Morrigan loot the bodies. His reprieve did not seem like it would be long enough as she turned back to him, opening her mouth to continue her onslaught.

"Lala?" a cautious voice called from the barred prison on the other side of the room. “My little Lala, is that you?”

He watched as her countenance flashed through fury and horror and agony, her eyes widening as she turned to respond, her voice breaking though it was barely more than a whisper, "Papa?" His stomach flipped as she ran, forgetting him entirely, to the man standing in the cage. He watched, awkward and helpless, as she fumbled with the lock, her normally graceful and precise hands trembling too much to get it open. He winced as she cursed and threw the mechanism back against the metal it secured.

Trying to remain as unobtrusive as he could as she sobbed and embraced her father through the gaps in the bars, he slipped over and took up the task. He was still slower at picking locks than she was, but she had taught him well, and on his second try, he heard the most satisfying click he had ever heard in his life. He stepped away as quietly as he had approached. He joined Alistair and Morrigan, standing several feet away and waiting with their eyes averted.

He did not miss the doleful glance his - his? Braska - Warden shot him over her father's shoulder as she held him tightly.

---

It took him three hours after their return to the Arl's estate to work up the nerve to seek her out and give her a proper apology. He found her in the courtyard, sparring with Alistair, and watched from the safety of a nearby window for a time. To his dismay, she was still nearly as tempestuous as before; he counted the times she left herself open to blows Alistair thankfully did not land enough to fill both hands before he gave up and merely gave silent thanks to the former Chantry boy for knowing enough to be gentle with her when she needed it.

Without warning, she stopped. She hung her head, but she spoke, and whatever she said to Alistair caught them both by surprise. She straightened up, shaking her head, brushing her words away as she did her tears, and then she noticed him watching them, and her expression grew conflicted once more. She pointed him out, calling him over as she apologetically shooed her fellow Warden away.

"How long have you been there?" she asked, tossing him one of her daggers and doing her best to keep her face neutral, her tone light.

"Long enough to see that Alistair could have pummeled you into the ground had he wanted," he chided playfully. "You would have been better off chopping firewood than wailing on the dear man."

Lalia snorted. "I'm aware. I didn't ask him to go easy on me, but I guess I can't blame him, the way I've been acting." She avoided looking directly at him, preferring to keep her eyes locked on his boots rather than risk a peek at his face as she asked, "Zevran, can you teach me something?"

"Something to do with the assassin training I've been giving you?" he ventured, though he knew better.

She was quiet a moment, apparently reconsidering her request, before responding, "Can you teach me to be numb? Like...like the Crows taught you?" She paused, now glaring at his boots and gripping her one dagger hard enough to turn her knuckles white. "I can't fall to pieces like that if I'm supposed to, you know, help save all of Thedas."

An empty coldness attempted to settle in his chest. "No," he responded, some of that coldness seeping out in his voice. He couldn't help the relief he felt when she finally looked him in the eye, her features caught somewhere between vexation and concern for him. Concern won, and it burned the rest of the chill in his heart away. "No, I won't be doing that, amor mío."

He whipped the dagger she had lent him up, shifting into a fighting stance and motioning for her to follow suit. "What I will teach you is how to thrive on the moment of your opponent's death." He gave her a smirk, his eyes narrowed, and his lips split into a full smile when she positioned her body to mirror his.

Her eyes were still hard, her face drawn, but she softened by the end of it, losing herself first in the techniques he showed her and, later, in his arms.

#zevwarden week #zevran arainai #zevran/tabris #dragon age #dragon age origins

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velannadisapproves · 8 years

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Zev/Warden Week #5

This was harder to write than I’d expected. It’s a scene I’ve never given much thought to for these two, to be honest, and I’ll probably end up re-writing it once I’ve considered it more thoroughly. For now, here’s a bittersweet 1,551 words.

Prompt: Friday, August 5th - “It’s meant a lot to me, but so have...so has what you’ve done.”

Lalia had been caught off guard when he first approached her before breakfast and offered her the earring, but then she had noticed how agitated Zevran seemed in offering it to her, how he chose to downplay its meaning rather than simply accepting her gratitude. She had only meant to goad him, playfully, when insisting that it mean something before she accept it, and she couldn't hide the surprise from her features as he snapped at her, snatched the earring from her fingers, and stormed off as quickly as his short stride could carry him without breaking into a run.

His timing had been unfortunate as the Landsmeet was starting shortly, and as they left for the Royal Palace less than an hour later, he was nowhere to be found. She struggled to keep his response to the back of her thoughts as she and Alistair made their case against Loghain before the nobles. She struggled not to think of him as her blade bit into the regent's neck. She struggled as Alistair glared openly at her as he accepted the marriage proposal and his new position as king. She gave in and could only think of him as they returned to the Arl's estate, fearing that he had left for good.

Her heart swelled with relief and joy when she found him waiting with the others, though it deflated considerably when he refused to maintain eye contact with her for more than a second. She brushed her concerns off as best she could for the time being. They had to gather their equipment and make for Redcliffe as quickly as possible.

They marched for several long hours, hours which felt longer still to Lalia with both her lover and one of her closest friends avoiding her. 'Not that any of us are much for conversation, marching to our likely death and all,' she thought dejectedly. She was relieved when the sun was finally low enough on the horizon to order a stop for camp, and she quickly busied herself setting up her tent and gathering firewood.

The tension was nearly palpable as they sat together for supper until Leliana broke the heavy silence, "Cheer up, everyone, we should be celebrating."

"What in the world are you talking about?" Wynne asked, a little more exasperated than usual.

"If we wake early and keep a good pace, we might reach Redcliffe just after sunset," Leliana replied. "This might be our last night eating Alistair's cooking!"

The quip earned her a couple chuckles and smirks. Alistair's protesting earned even more. Gentle teasing and light conversation flowed naturally from there for the next hour until it was time to turn in, and Lalia thought she had never been more grateful for her bard friend's grace and charm.

With some flattery of its fortitude, Lalia persuaded Shale to take watch throughout the night so the squishier among them could be well rested for another long day of marching, possibly followed by a battle to the death. Leaving the golem stationed near the fire, she slipped over to where Zevran was scraping the remaining food from his plate directly into her mabari's mouth.

"Loche, you spoiled beast," she chided playfully. "You're supposed to be a warhound, not a dish cleaner."

The mabari gave a fierce growl followed by a happy wag of his tail. He sneaked a quick lick over Zevran's hand before trotting off to take his place in front of his master's tent.

Zevran made a disgusted sound and wiped the hound's saliva on his pants. "If the Archdemon can be slobbered to death, then your canine companion will save us all," he joked, but his tone was tight, and he was still making a point of not looking at her directly.

"I'm sorry," Lalia started hesistantly, beginning to reach for his arm and thinking better of it. "For earlier, I mean. I didn't mean to offend you. I just-"

"It is no matter, mi amor," he said quickly, cutting her off with a curt gesture. He straightened and sighed before finally looking at her and giving her a strained smile. "Really, do not think of it again."

She doubted she would be able to do as he asked, but she could at least try. She gave him a smile she hoped looked more relaxed than his own. "Well, if that's behind us and you're finished fattening my mabari, perhaps you would accompany me to my tent?"

His expression fell, and he made no attempt to mask his alarm. "No, I...no." He saw the way she physically pulled away from him at the rejection, a very slight shift in her posture but enough to have his hands twitch forward as though he might reach for her. "I mean no offense. I simply...no."

"Is something-" she began to inquire, but she saw the pained look in his eyes and decided against pushing him when he clearly had no desire to be near her. "I'm sorry," she finished instead. She turned toward her tent without waiting for his reply.

---

She didn't attempt to speak to Zevran again during their journey. By the end of it, she wished she had. It was late in the evening by the time she finally found herself before the door to his chamber in Redcliffe Castle. With all that had happened - their strenuous marching only to be met by Darkspawn at the castle gates, Riordan's news that they needed to turn right back around and his revelation of why Grey Wardens were necessary in defeating an Archdemon, Morrigan's abrupt departure - she wasn't sure she could handle further rejection from the man she loved, but she needed to try. She felt he deserved to know what was likely coming.

Rolling her shoulders back in determination, Lalia rapped at the door, and her nerves were so frayed that she nearly cringed at the sharp sound. She waited an agonizing thirty seconds, wondered if she should try again, and had to fight the urge to scamper away as the door creaked open.

"Querida," Zevran murmured, his expression both surprised and anxious. "I...I didn't think..."

She tried her most apologetic smile. "Care to invite me in? It might be the last chance you have to let me warm your bed." She wanted to bury her face in her hands as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

Zevran reacted to her flippant greeting about as well as she had expected, but to his credit, he didn't simply close the door in her face. "No, no, I do not think so," he answered in a guarded tone. "Surely there is something else on your mind-"

"I'm sorry," Lalia blurted out, averting her eyes and crossing her arms in an unconscious effort to make herself smaller. "I'm so sorry. To have hurt or offended you, and then done it again. And probably now a third time." She glanced back up to meet his gaze. "Please, if it's not too much to ask, just talk to me."

Something in her face made his expression soften. "I...I am acting like a child, I realize," he sighed. He reached out to grasp her hand and led her into his room. "I apologize. Let me try to explain."

And he did. She could tell it was difficult for him, being so direct about his feelings when he had been trained his whole life not to have any, but she held his hands tightly while he spoke, and when he asked if she understood, she couldn't help but let out a breath of laughter. "I'm no wiser than you in that area, Zevran," she murmured, bringing one of his hand up to kiss his knuckles.

With that small gesture of affection, he seemed to grow slightly bolder. "All I need to know is if there might be some future for us, some possibility of...I do not know what," he finished lamely.

She smiled. "I hope so," she replied. Then her smile evaporated. "I hope...Zevran," she started, hating the way his grip tightened at the change in her tone. "I...learned something new and exciting about being a Warden tonight. I have to tell you..."

When she had finished describing the events of her evening and all that she had learned, when she had made clear that there was a very high chance that this future together they spoke of might be a mere few days, they sat in silence, neither looking at the other. It was Zevran who disturbed their quiet; he kissed her cheek, untangled his fingers from hers, and went to dig in his satchel. He came back a moment later and pressed something small into her hands.

---

"That's new," Leliana mused, marching beside Lalia on their long trek back to Denerim. She nodded to the ring in the elf's ear. "I've never seen you wear any jewelry before. A little ostentatious for your taste, isn't it?"

Lalia let a hand roam up to touch the adornment in question, ignoring the sensitivity of the newly pierced flesh. She shot a glance off to one side where Zevran was trading insults and filthy jokes with Oghren, and she couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from curling upward. "Not at all," she answered. "I think it's perfect."

#zevwarden week #zevran arainai #zevran/tabris #dragon age origins #dragon age

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velannadisapproves · 8 years

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Zev/Warden Week #4

Some elite organizations of assassins never learn.

Prompt: Thursday, August 4th - “I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That’s how it works. If you don’t kill me, the Crows will.”

The first time they make the mistake of targeting her is while they are apart. Zevran only hears about it weeks later when he receives a letter from Amaranthine with three names written in his love's unmistakable scrawl and the message, 'Tell them to send better next time.'

He is livid. He wants to laugh at their foolishness, to feel pride in his lover's prowess, but more than any of that, he wants blood.

He gets it. He gets it threefold.

---

The second time, she is visiting him in Antiva. They are in a dimly lit tavern, Zevran's favourite, and he has stepped away to fetch another round of drinks. When he returns, one young man is unconscious, another bleeding profusely from his gut, and she is breaking the third's arm against their table while the fourth and fifth are scrambling away.

He is amused by their audacity. She is not. She is shaking in rage as he leads her home. She curses. She cries. She wants to wipe the Crows from existence so they can never harm him again.

He sees her off on her next adventure. He becomes a Shadow.

---

The third time, the last time, they are trekking through Nevarra in search for a cure. She has heard the song for a while now. She has lost weight, too much, and her eyes are always dark, but she still smiles wide enough to make his heart ache. She smiles, face spattered with the blood of the men sent for them.

She stumbles, she begins to collapse. He barely catches her, but he does, and he holds her so tightly that she teases that she might break. It is his greatest fear.

He hunts down two more Crows in Perendale.

When she is well and cured, when, he will hunt them all.

#zevwarden week #zevran arainai #dragon age #dragon age origins

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velannadisapproves · 8 years

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Zev/Warden Week #3

Zevran and Lalia’s first time. It’s a bit on the long side at 5,396 words.

Prompt: Wednesday, August 3rd - “Again? What must the others think?” Warnings: NSFW, explicit sexual content, mild BDSM (discussion, brief knife play, light binding)

It was clear to see that the Deep Roads had taken their toll on everyone in the party, but their leader seemed particularly shaken. The first thing she had done when they stepped out of the tunnels and into Orzammar proper was to exit the city as fast as possible, practically tripping over dwarves in her haste to see the sky. It had taken quite a bit of coaxing to get her back inside the gates to finish what they had started so they could leave the thaig for good.

On their first night under the stars once more, everyone sat around the fire together for supper, but their energy was low. Wynne and Morrigan retired early, and Leliana talked Alistair, Sten, and the dwarves into a game of Wicked Grace while Lalia watched quietly, occasionally laughing at their playful competition or offering up some teasing remark of her own. Zevran sat beside her, enjoying her closeness and reflecting on the past few weeks.

Adrenaline had led to their first kiss after her return from the Proving. Intoxication had led to their second after an evening at Tapster's. Desperation had led her to seek him out at night several times during their search for the Paragon, though it had always been for the comfort of another body to sleep beside rather than anything sexual. Now that they were back in open air and Lalia looked less likely to retch at any moment, Zevran hoped to change that.

He brushed his fingers gently against hers as he leaned over to press a quick kiss to her shoulder. He felt her stiffen a little - unsurprising since he'd never initiated any physical affection before, let alone in front of any audience, albeit a preoccupied one - and murmured softly into her ear, "Shall I save room for you in my tent tonight?"

Lalia let out a small, nervous laugh before responding quietly, "I'm sorry for being such a bother these past couple weeks. Now that we're not in those damn tunnels, I should be fine. I was planning on taking first watch tonight, so you'll be able to get some sleep." She squeezed his hand apologetically.

Resisting the urge to drag a hand down his face in frustrated disbelief that she hadn't understood, Zevran instead clicked his tongue at her and admonished, "First watch? But you look so tired, my dear. It is all this constant walking and fighting. I think I know what you need."

"A good night's rest, maybe," she sighed. "Though I don't really have the best record of achieving that."

He decided he would give her one last chance to catch on before he bluntly asked to bed her before most of their companions. "Mmm, I'm thinking more drastic measures are called for, in fact," he hinted, letting his fingers drift lazily up her thigh. "My thought is this: We retire to your tent, and I show you the sort of massage skills one only learns growing up in an Antivan whorehouse."

That, she understood, thank the Maker. "Alright, but make it your tent. It's a little farther from everyone else's."

They tried to slip away as inconspicuously as possible, but Alistair called attention to their escape. "And where are you two off to? You told me you'd take first watch tonight, Lali!"

"I - uhm - Zevran offered to give me a massage, and I thought it would probably be a good idea to help me loosen up a bit after, you know, all that," Lalia replied, gesturing vaguely in the direction of Orzammar.

"Ooh, a massage, that sounds really nice, actually," Alistair commented in all his innocence. "Do me next, Zev?"

Lalia barely contained a snort of laughter as Zevran opened his mouth to reply, but Leliana cut in quickly to save everyone, mostly Alistair, the embarrassment. "You can't go anywhere. We've got another three rounds to play." She shooed them absently with the flick of a wrist, and they hurried off to Zevran's tent while she had the other Warden distracted.

The sound of Alistair's distinct,"Oh. O-ohhh!" of understanding carried over as Zevran closed the tent flap behind them, and Lalia dissolved into a fit of giggles. She wiped the tears of amusement from her eyes and did her best to quiet herself, finally giving Zevran a wide smile which he returned in good humour. "So," she said, clearing her throat. "A massage, is it? Alright, tell me what to do."

Zevran plucked at the hem of her shirt. "Well, this will have to go." He touched her trousers and added, "And these." He couldn't help the spike of excitement he felt as she complied without further instruction, and he eagerly followed suit.

Once they had stripped to their small clothes, Zevran took in the sight of the Warden slowly. Her lithe frame, typically hidden under the bulk of armor or the loose clothing she preferred, was made entirely of lean muscle and scar tissue. Despite the hardness of her appearance, she seemed smaller, somehow, in such intimate privacy, and Zevran couldn't help but think she looked surprisingly delicate now that he could see her nearly bare form. Her skin was pale, almost sickly after spending so much time beneath the surface, and she was a shade only slightly more pink than the rest of her in all of the places he was a darker brown.

"You're so lovely," he heard her murmur, a distant half-whisper, and his gaze drifted back up to her face to find her marvelling at his body in much the same fashion he had been hers. The genuine awe in her expression, culminating in an uncharacteristic blush that he almost did not notice in the dim light, brought him pause; part of him wanted to laugh in delighted amusement, and part of him, he realized with mild discomfort, was actually struck by her honest admiration in some strange fashion, a feeling he couldn't name and wasn't sure he wanted to.

He settled on adopting his usual flirtatious smile. "So I have heard, many times," he agreed, "But I believe I may have met my match." He saw the way her mouth quirked to the side at that, a tight expression he had seen on her face numerous times over the past several weeks of dealing with dwarves and their political intrigues, and his eyebrows raised ever so slightly. "You do not believe me?"

She laughed at that, that joyous sound he had come to adore in the midst of all the doom and gloom surrounding them. "If there's a match for you in Ferelden, it's certainly not me. Look at you!" She giggled as he preened and flexed. Hesitating a moment, she shook her head. "Honestly, I'm surprised you approached me. In the stories you've told me of your escapades, you mention human women so often. Large breasts and wide hips are common players." She paused to motion to her own modest figure. "I just didn't think you were all that interested in something a little...less, but perhaps being on the road for so long has made you a bit desperate."

The last was only half in jest, he could tell, but her tone held neither an accusation nor any longing to be contradicted, and he wondered how she could possibly think so little of herself. Or how she could be oblivious to his genuine attraction at this point. "You shouldn't presume to know my preferences from a few bawdy tales," he scolded. "And if I weren't truly interested, you wouldn't be in my tent. Now, my dear, bring yourself over here, and let me get to work."

She obeyed silently, allowing him to direct her down onto his bedroll so that she was lying on her stomach. She closed her eyes as he straddled her across her thighs, but despite her attempts to relax, she stiffened visibly the instant Zevran's pressed his hands against her lower back.

"You seem anxious," Zevran observed as he lifted his hands away from her body until only his finger tips were gently brushing her skin. "Say the word, and we can stop this now."

Lalia reached one hand back to touch his leg in an effort to reassure him. "No, it's fine," she insisted. "It's just...it's been a long time since I've been this vulnerable around anyone."

"In case you hadn't noticed, which I think you very much have, I am just as vulnerable as you are right now," he reminded her, pausing a beat before adding, "Well, perhaps not quite as vulnerable." He moved his fingers to her sides and waggled them playfully.

"I'm not ticklish," she informed him, straining her arms up behind her, awkwardly trying to reach his sides with her long fingers to tickle him in kind.

Zevran twisted his body and stretched his arms back toward her feet. "No?" he asked, catching one of her ankles and brushing the sole of her foot with a fingertip. He laughed as she squirmed violently but helplessly beneath him.

"Stop! Please!" she pleaded breathlessly, slapping at his thighs. She gasped as he obeyed and, craning her neck to glare up at him, threatened, "Zevran Arainai, if you try that again, you may not live to regret it."

Facing forward once more, he smirked down at her and began to work his magic at the base of her spine. "Ah, see, if only I'd had that information when I first came looking for you," he mused, stifling a laugh when she demanded in a hiss that he tell no one. "Your secret is safe with me, dear Warden. Either way, I am glad I did not know of your terrible weak spot back then, for it might have forgone our present situation, and that would have been a true tragedy."

His words held a double meaning that he alone knew. For now, anyway. She had been strangely curious about him, asking more and more about his past, Antiva, the Crows, his opinions; anything he cared to tell her, she eagerly listened, really and truly listened, even going so far as to give him gifts based on things he had shared with her. She had already asked about his last mission once, and he had declined to share the tale with her at that time. While she had respected his wishes and changed the subject immediately, he knew it was only a matter of time before she asked again, especially if they continued becoming closer the way they had been of late. Someday, perhaps soon, he might confide in her the reason why he had taken the contract on her head....

'Matters for another time,' he scolded himself, forcing his attention fully to the task before him. As his hands crept higher up her spine, he noticed with some surprise how soft her skin was, at least in places not decorated with scars. He traced a finger across one such line of mangled flesh, a long streak, faded silvery pale with time, reaching from her right shoulder blade down to her lower back.

"Shem," she told him without prompting, as though she could sense the question that died unasked in his throat. "They're almost all from shemlen, though I've got a few from the Darkspawn nowadays. That one, a guard caught me outside of the Alienage, stealing some food in the market. I was five. He stripped me of my tunic and whipped me right there in the middle of the stalls. Five lashes, for my age, and he made the last one really count. Never got caught stealing again after that." She gave a cheeky grin but kept her eyes closed.

Zevran leaned forward to plant a kiss on her shoulder blade where the scar began. "A fast learner. A quality I appreciate, especially in those I invite into my bed," he purred, chuckling lightly when she bucked her hips to jostle him as a response. He sat back and continued the massage, still gently, applying barely any pressure. Her muscles were alarmingly tight beneath his fingertips, and he noticed that the more he worked, the more she seemed to hold her breath. "Does it hurt?"

"No," she denied it, but she hissed through her teeth when he pressed a little harder. "Okay, maybe a little, but don't worry about it. I'll tell you if I need you to stop."

Raising an eyebrow, Zevran dug his thumbs into the muscles bunched at the base of her neck and nodded to himself as she gasped in pain. "If that is what you wish." He continued his ministrations across her back, working his way down from her neck and over her particularly tender shoulder blades back toward where he had started. Aside from Lalia's occasional whimper or harsh exhalation, the two remained silent until he had finished. He slid off her and took a stance on his knees. "Sit up and turn to me."

She shifted to face him as she pulled herself up, and he reached out to touch her cheek. "My dear, you are flushed already," he admonished playfully. "Look at this, even your ears have gone as red as rashvine! Are all Wardens blushing virgins?"

Lalia rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Just that one," she answered, tilting her head toward the fire where her fellow Warden was likely still blushing furiously.

"That is a relief. Then you are merely very excitable, but I imagine it is incredibly difficult to maintain composure when faced with such temptation, no?" he teased, earning a grin and a light slap to the chest. He caught her wrist and held his free hand out expectantly for the other, smiling as she extended her arm to run her fingers lightly across his before settling her wrist against his palm.

As they faced one another, Zevran began working his fingers once more, massaging the slight muscles in his grip. 'So fragile,' he thought, examining her slender forearms. He glanced up to her face and saw her staring at his fingers, her breath bated.

Something occurred to him then, and while normally he preferred to be direct in such matters, he feared that should he do so now, the woman before him would pull away. Instead of speaking freely, he continued working his fingers around her wrists and the slim bones of her hands until he found the desired pressure points between her thumbs and forefingers. He watched her expression closely as he pressed, tightening his grasp little by little, until he knew it must be hurting her.

She stared at their hands, her eyes dark and wide, seemingly entranced by the sight of Zevran's fingertips digging further and further into her flesh. Her lips parted, and her breath hitched in her throat.

"My dear Warden," Zevran began quietly, keeping his tone neutral. "Do you enjoy this?"

His words broke her trance, and Lalia lifted her chin to look him in the eyes for a split second before averting her gaze elsewhere and pulling her hands away. Her cheeks turned a deep scarlet. She remained silent for another moment before responding, "It is a shameful thing."

Zevran bit back a sigh, feeling his heart sink at the sight of immense shame painted across features normally so fierce and joyful and lovely. He shifted into a crouch and crept around to kneel behind her. "You Fereldans have such funny ideas about intimacy," he murmured, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. When she didn't shake him off, he began rubbing slowly. "I don't know who taught you such a thing, but there's nothing shameful about pleasure."

She turned her head to look at him over one shoulder. "How can I not feel shame in finding enjoyment in the very thing that has been used against my people?" she demanded, a slight quiver to her voice. "Violence. Domination. Am I no better than..." she trailed off, turning her head away from him again but otherwise remaining still.

"Ah, but that is very, very different," the Antivan insisted, kissing the back of her neck. "One is power fueled by hatred and greed, the other is merely a play of power for the enjoyment of both parties. One is violence, the other is a consensual act. Do you see? You are not betraying yourself or your people by having certain desires. Finding pleasure in a specific form of intimacy doesn't mean you are whatever your enemies would have you believe."

Lalia remained silent while she considered his words. "Do others like it?" she asked slowly. "I've bedded a few, men and women, but I've never encountered anyone else who..." Again, she was unable to finish her thought aloud.

He couldn't help but smile. "Oh, yes," he answered enthusiastically. "Truly, it is not nearly as uncommon as you might think. In Antiva, there are brothels that specialize in providing such services, and I would be surprised if you could not find those who do so in the cities here, though evidently they are, shall we say, more selective about the clients they accept." He felt her relax a little under his touch, apparently soothed by his words. "I myself have engaged in these acts, both giving and receiving, and while receiving isn't at the top of my list, I can't say that I don't enjoy it."

She giggled a little at that. "And giving?" she asked with some of her usual playfulness returning to her voice, shooting him a sly glance over her shoulder.

"Aha, how very direct," Zevran chuckled, coaxing with his hands until she extended her arms over her head. He continued rubbing them as he spoke. "Yes, giving is definitely something I enjoy. And perhaps you will be unsurprised to hear that I have many stories I could tell you about the very subject. Not all of them end with me assassinating someone."

Shifting her body a little and turning her head once more so that her lips were almost brushing against his, Lalia said, "Tell me one later." She pressed her mouth against his and lowered her forearms so that she could tangle her fingers in his hair.

Zevran welcomed the kiss, taking his time to deepen it by softly, slowly leading her in parting her lips until eventually their tongues met. As his mouth worked with hers, he ran his hands down from her arms and around to caress the front of her body. After teasing her for a time, inching his touch closer and closer before retreating to explore elsewhere, his fingertips finally brushed over the smooth skin of her small breasts. He caught one of her nipples between two fingers and squeezed, causing her to arch her back slightly as a small whimper escaped from her mouth into his.

The former Crow had become intensely aroused at an unusual rate, something he would later chalk up to not having had sex in months at that point. The space between his legs had grown unbearably hot as he touched her, and that tiny sound of pleasure made it hard for him to restrain himself. He pulled his mouth from hers to move it close to her ear. "Would you like me to give to you, just a little?" he asked, his voice low and thick.

He could hear her swallow before repeating, in a shaky breath, "Just a little," and he felt his cock pulse against the fabric of his small clothes at her response.

“Do you know of watchwords, querida?” He smiled when she shifted to give him a blank look and explained the concept to her, kissing her neck as he spoke and relishing the way she shuddered beneath his lips.

“Is that really necessary?” she asked, moving one hand from his hair to run her fingernails across what little of his back she could reach. “I mean, for ‘just a little’?”

“I would prefer we have one,” he insisted, turning his head and planting a kiss on her cheek.

Lalia thought for a moment before responding, “Parshaara.”

“Parshaara,” he repeated with a nod.

Glancing quickly toward their discarded garments lying on the ground, Zevran untangled himself from her arms to lean over and grab his belt from the pile, as well as the unsheathed dagger he kept beside his bedroll. With the dagger in his teeth, he brought her arms over her head once again and bound her wrists with the belt, tying the knot with an expert's speed and grace.

One hand held the buckle in a tight grip as the other removed the dagger from between his teeth. He shifted so that he knelt more beside her than behind. Upon seeing her wide-eyed expression, he smiled sweetly, kissed her cheek, and brought the blade up to rest lightly against her throat.

A dark thought surfaced unbidden, assassin training he may never be rid of, 'Finish this.' He grew slightly sick at the thought, but the way she held his gaze before closing her eyes, calm and trusting, made the feeling fade. He brushed the tip of the blade in a line from her throat to her navel, too lightly to draw blood but enough to make her shudder. He pressed his lips against hers, and all thoughts of doing anything else disappeared.

He kissed her until he had to pull away for breath, and before she could speak, he slammed the buckle of the belt down against the ground beyond the foot of his bedroll, bringing her unceremoniously onto her back with it. He ignored her gasp as she hit the ground, focusing on jamming the dagger through the opening of the metal and into the hard ground all the way to the hilt, pinning the buckle firmly to the earth.

Lalia squirmed, straining against the belt in an attempt to break free. As Zevran lowered himself over her, she hissed up at him, "Are you insane? If anyone in camp should find us like this, do you know what they'll assume?"

"That I, the devious deviant, have bound you against your will and am having my way with you, most likely before I finally murder you as I've been plotting this entire time?"

She narrowed her eyes at his nonchalant tone. "Yes, exactly. And then they'll kill you before stopping to ask any questions."

"Then you will just have to be very, very quiet to make sure no one hears us and becomes suspicious," Zevran replied. "I may have you at my mercy right now, but my life is in your hands. Or, throat, as it is." With that, he slipped his mouth quickly onto her neck and sunk his teeth into her soft skin.

Stifling a cry, Lalia thrashed beneath him. "S-Stop!" she demanded in a whisper, and, when he did not, added in a hiss, “Parshaara!” She stilled as he pulled away. "I-I don't know if I can keep silent if you are...hurting me," she said softly, her face crimson and her eyes anywhere but on his. "Since, you know, I've never really...received. Not like this."

Zevran cupped her face with one hand to force her to look at him, slowly stroking her bottom lip with his thumb and savoring both the defiance and desire in her gaze. "Alright, my Warden. We did say just a little bit for tonight, after all," he conceded. "We will stick with the light binding for now, and at a later time, when we are in a place with walls that may actually block some sound, perhaps we can find out what makes you scream, yes?"

She nodded once in response.

His lips split into a wolfish grin. "Good."

With that, he brought his mouth back to her neck, this time in a kiss that marked the start of the trail he would leave across her torso, gentle pecks intermingling with occasional nips, not sharp enough to truly hurt but enough to make her arch her back each time his teeth met her skin. He stopped to give some attention to her nipples, one after the other, sucking the sensitive buds until she writhed under him and whimpered softly. After a few minutes and some minimal thrashing, he succeeded in pulling an airy whine from her. Satisfied, he resumed his trail downward, kissing and nipping from her left hipbone over to her right one as he tugged her small clothes from her body.

Between her legs, Zevran found a surprising amount of wetness and warmth surrounded by soft, dark curls. He kissed his way down each of her thighs, bringing his mouth agonizingly close to the delicate pinkness at the center and causing her to tremble with anticipation. Finally, he sat up enough to look her in the eyes as he pressed the middle finger of his right hand lightly against that sweet spot at the top of her opening. "Do you want this, querida?"

"Yes," she breathed.

"Then say it. Tell me what you want."

Lalia's cheeks flushed yet again. "I want you," she started with uncertainty, but the look in Zevran's eyes made clear that such a vague answer would not be enough. While she might not be a blushing virgin, he could tell that she had never spoken like this to any partner before. She swallowed, steeling herself to make her pleas all at once. "I want to feel you inside me. I want you to fuck me with your fingers and your mouth until I can't keep quiet."

The Antivan smiled at her approvingly before lowering himself back down and doing as he was bid, starting with his skillful tongue. His expertise had her lifting her hips involuntarily before long; he gripped them firmly and slammed her back down, pinning her against the bed roll. Every time she tried to buck upward, he dug his thumbnails into the thin flesh above her hipbones, and the sound of her sharp gasps burned in his ears. Usually, he would stroke himself while performing this act, but he feared that doing so now would undo him too soon, so he left himself unattended until she was clearly struggling to contain her low moans.

Zevran pulled away from her, replacing his mouth with his deft fingertips, and knelt between her legs. He nearly laughed at the glare she sent him and wasn't sure if he was more grateful or disappointed that the probable combination of the need for quiet and her inability to articulate at the moment kept her from snarling any colorful curses at him. He quickly stripped off his small clothes and flung them in the same direction that he'd sent hers earlier. Then, resuming his manipulation of her sensitive spot with his fingers, he began teasing her with his tip as well, sliding around her wetness and applying pressure. He kept his eyes on her face, and she blushed under his gaze and closed her eyes.

"Look at me," he commanded, and she exhaled shakily as she did as she was told. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

There was intense desperation in the single syllable she whispered, "Yes."

"Ask nicely."

"Please, Zevran. Please fuck me."

Another time, perhaps, he would make her beg to feel his cock inside of her. For now, he couldn't wait any longer.

Upon entering her, several sensations - wet, warm, wonderfully tight - threatened to overwhelm him almost immediately, but he clenched his teeth and continued sliding forward until he could no longer. Her legs wrapped tightly around him in an attempt to gain some control. Grasping her firmly by the hip with his free hand to keep her from squirming and to ensure that she remained completely full of him, he focused on working his fingers and watched her body and face for signs the she was about to tip over the edge.

His name tumbled once more from her lips, her eyelids fluttered closed, and he was there instantly, kissing her as she moaned her release into him. The way she ground herself against him and the way her body tightened around him made his mind blank for a moment, but he somehow managed not to lose himself just yet.

Orgasm subsiding, Lalia tore her mouth from his. "Unbind me," she growled.

The sudden, sharp demand sent a tingle of excitement buzzing through him; perhaps this was another side of her to explore more fully at a later time, and oh, how he hoped there would be a later time. Remaining inside of her, Zevran reached to pull the dagger from the soil, loosing the buckle. In one swift motion, he sliced through the belt, the sharp blade parting the old leather with ease. He jammed the dagger roughly back into the ground as Lalia shook her hands free.

"Sit back," Lalia ordered, and he obeyed, pulling her up with him until he was sitting with her in his lap. She tangled her hands in his hair and began rolling her hips above him. She kissed his forehead with a gentleness that struck Zevran as odd, but she bit his ear the next second, and the thought disappeared in a gasp. She rode him with such intensity, caring only about the pleasure of the moment, that he quickly abandonned any composure and gave in completely to the sensations of lust for the first time in a long time, gripping her hips and bucking upward with his own to meet her.

He realized, before long, that he was muttering curses in Antivan into the base of her throat. He looked up at her and, switching languages, said, "Close." That was all he could manage before her lips were on his, and it was his turn to moan into her mouth as he finished inside of her.

They continued kissing long thereafter, she on his lap with her fingers entwined in his long hair, and he with his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. The frantic hunger of arousal changed into something more tender, and the motions of their mouths became softer, the kisses longer. Lalia moved one hand from Zevran's hair to brush against his cheek before coming to rest on his chest.

Eventually, their mouths parted, and their foreheads met. Lalia kept her eyes closed, but a wide smile spread across her beaming face. Zevran looked at her expression with a small, satisfied smile of his own. For a split second, he wondered if it were something other than exertion that had his heart beating so quickly, but he pushed the thought away.

After giving him one last kiss, Lalia slid from his lap and began retrieving her clothing, slipping into them piece by piece until she sat fully clothed while Zevran remained naked. "Thank you," she said, "I needed that more than I'd known."

"Your shoulders were amazingly tense. You should absolutely come to me for another massage whenever you feel like it," he replied with a wink. "I, for one, enjoyed myself immensely."

She laid down on his bedroll, causing Zevran's eyebrows to quirk upward, and he was surprised to feel a slight twinge of disappointment at the beginning of her next sentence. "Before I go, would you tell me one of the stories you mentioned? One with an assassination?"

Zevran laughed lightly before lying down beside her. 'This is why I adore you,' he almost replied, but it seemed too intimate after what they had just done, and he didn't want anyone getting the wrong idea. So he agreed to her request instead. "There is one I like to call 'The Lion Cub and the Crow' that I think you might enjoy. It involves whips and some vegetables and, most importantly, Yours Truly. So, I had won the bid for a contract for a rather powerful little lordling, who was known to have a penchant for beautiful elven men. Naturally, you can already see my advantage...."

About half an hour later, Lalia left his tent, soundlessly, to return to her own. Zevran lay on his bedroll, staring up at firelight and shadows chasing one another across the canvas overhead, a slight smile tugging at his lips. As he closed his eyes and drifted off, the memory of her kissing his forehead floated to the surface of his thoughts and led the way down into a deep, dreamless sleep.

#zevwarden week #zevran arainai #zevran/tabris #dragon age #dragon age origins #nsfw #mild bdsm

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velannadisapproves · 8 years

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Zev/Warden Week #2

A quick series of vignettes. They’re basically just his story progression with a pirate backdrop. I wanted to have this done on time today, and the plot ideas I had for something more unique were absolutely not lending themselves to a shorter work, so I’ll most certainly be coming back to explore this AU more thoroughly sometime in the near future.

Prompt: Tuesday, August 2 - “Arr, pirate Zevran reporting for duty!”

His ship was sinking. Despite the water rapidly consuming the vessel, the flames continued to roar across every piece of wood that wasn't completely soaked. The tattered crow skull flag was somehow the only thing that remained mostly intact. It seemed to mock him, whipping in the wind as it drew ever closer to the sea, going down with the wreckage when he himself couldn't.

The rest of the fleet was disappearing over the horizon. They did not give chase to their target, not yet anyway. He knew someday, likely sooner than later, that they would hunt them down and finish the job before they finished him. Part of him couldn't help but hope this rag tag band and their rickety boat would give them as much trouble as they had given him.

"Pity," the captain murmured beside him. "That was a pretty ship you had. Couldn't say the same of most of your crew, but they might have been useful. Put up a damn good fight." She looked him over slowly, plucking at the ropes and gag she'd had her crew put him in as her eyes roamed over him. "Looks like we managed to save the prettiest thing on board at least. And the meanest. Gave me a nasty little gash."

She pulled back her coat and raised her arm to show off the bloody wound running the length of her rib cage. The pale flesh around the cut was turning a sickly yellow as it responded to the poison that he used to cover his blades. He couldn't help but grin around the rag in his mouth at the sight.

She saw how his eyes crinkled and smirked. "Ought to pay you back, don't you think?" she asked, drawing an ugly blade from its sheath at her side. His laugh was muffled by the cloth, but it made her smirk widen, and she brought the blade up to trace the tip along the tattoos on his cheek. "Can't work my healer too hard, though, so I guess it'll have to wait." She used the blade to sever the ties of the gag and plucked the cloth from his mouth with her free hand.

He blinked at her dumbly as she motioned for him to offer up his hands. She should be forcing him over the edge of her ship, not cutting his binds. He should be dead, dead and free from this life, not being spared by an odd little elf captain with a quick smile. Maybe she meant to torture him. He flexed his hands when they were free and looked at her with a mix of confusion and dread.

"Alistair won't like it, but he's not in charge, aye?" she said, more to herself than him. She gave him a broad, crooked grin and clapped him on the shoulder. "Welcome aboard! What's your name?"

He laughed at the absurdity of it and shook her hand.

ii.

One evening about two months into his service in her crew, ale, curiosity, and that easy grin on her face made him bold. He asked, "My dear captain, how ever did someone as lovely as you become leader of this merry band?"

"Not what you expect when you hear 'pirate captain', eh, a puny knife ear with a couple sharps on her?" she challenged, though her smile didn't fade. "Greys come in all sizes, Zev, whoever's up for it."

He took another quaff from his mug, grimacing at the sour taste of the Fereldan brew, and conceded, "Yes, I've heard of your recruitment practices. However, that doesn't quite answer my question. How did you come by the title? One as beautiful as yourself could easily have charmed anyone into your service, and your skill with those sharps as you called them would certainly be persuasive in keeping them there, but I know first hand it's not as simple to become a captain as you make it look. When there is another Grey on board, and one that has worn the brand longer at that, how did you get to wear the hat, so to speak?"

She shrugged. "Voted in." She didn't seem keen on elaborating, but Zevran made a gesture with his hands that begged for more, so she took a drink herself and continued, "Last Grey captain died pretty suddenly along with most of the crew and left only the two of us, me and Alistair, wearing the mark. What was left of us had to choose a new captain, and Ali didn't want it, so they picked me. I never even wanted to be a Grey, let alone a captain, but someone's got to do it."

His laughter could be heard over the din of the mess hall.

iii.

The rain washed the blood from the deck and pelted Taliesen's still form. He glared down at the body, his breath ragged, and he didn't know whether he'd rather haul the corpse over the rails or string it up the mast so instead he just spat on it, like he had on hers in what seemed like another lifetime. He wiped his mouth with the back of one hand and sheathed his daggers before turning to face the captain.

"Friend of yours?" she asked, gazing at the body with an unimpressed expression.

"I don't wish to speak of it," he replied, his voice low.

"Ah, more than a friend, then," she quipped.

He turned on his heel and stormed off toward the cabin they now shared. He heard her ordering Sten to dispose of the body as he left and felt an emptiness settle inside him, but he did not slow until he was inside and changed into dry clothes. Only then did he stop to take a slow, deep breath. After nearly a year, the Crows had come calling, and of course they had sent him. The emptiness was being replaced by nausea, a feeling not at all alleviated by the angry rolling of waves in a storm, and he was still fighting it back when she finally found her way into their small quarters.

She said nothing to him as she set down a plate with stale bread and cheese and some wine, an Antivan red she had bought for him at their last stop. He glared at the drink instead of watching her remove her soaking clothes and slip into a dry tunic. He glared at their feet when she sat down beside him on the bed. He glared at their hands as she laced her fingers in between his.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

He told her.

iv.

They stood on the dock and waved until Alistair became a speck on the ship and the ship became a speck on the horizon. Then they stood a little longer until Lalia - not Captain, not Grey, just Lalia - finally picked up the sack full of her belongings and slung it over her shoulder.

He couldn't keep the hesitation out of his voice as he asked, "So, you're a free woman now. And what does that make me?"

She gave him one of those shrugs of hers, and he felt his stomach knot. "A free man, I suppose."

"I've never been one of those before," he mused, trying to keep his tone light. "Where do you suppose a free man finds himself?" He felt foolish for being so transparently indirect. They had been at sea for over a year together and in the same bed for only slightly less than that before she decided she was finished, and staying in the crew under a different captain, good man though he was, did not hold the same appeal to Zevran, so he had opted to follow her before realizing he hadn't asked. Now he feared she would send him away. He glanced at the ring in her ear and made a silent wish another man might call a prayer.

"Wherever he wishes," she answered in her same airy tone, and his heart grew heavy. "You could sail back to Antiva," she suggested, and he felt as though he might retch. "I've never been before, but from all you've told me, it sounds like a lovely place for a pirate to retire until she's ready to pick up the hat again."

It took a second for her words to sink in, and he blinked at her dumbly.

Her smile turned sheepish under his gaze. "That is, if you don't mind the company."

He was too relieved to do anything but laugh.

#zevwarden week #zevran arainai #dragon age

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velannadisapproves · 8 years

Text

Zev/Warden Week #1

I’m quite late with this as I just got back into town, apologies!

Prompt: Monday, August 1 - “The Grey Warden dies here!”

"They weren't some group of bandits after a bounty," a woman was saying. "They knew who we are. They came after us intentionally."

As the words filled his mind, Zevran realized sluggishly that he was not, in fact, dead. He kept his eyes closed as he attempted to mentally orient himself. Grass tickling his cheek, wrists bound, coppery taste of blood in his mouth. Not the worst he'd ever woken to.

"Anyone could overhear who we are and come after our heads," came the exasperated reply from a man's voice. "We just happened to run into someone who wanted to put a little flair into it and make sure we knew how popular we've become instead of killing us in our sleep."

Even knowing the tales of Grey Warden prowess, he hadn't expected the fight to be over so quickly, hadn't hoped that the wardens would be so quick and brutal, especially not after getting his first look at them. Watching their little party approach - a young man in ill-fitting armour, a hedge witch with a sour expression, a sharp-eyed and sweet-faced redhead, and a scrawny elf who seemed to be leading her human companions - had not been impressive, but they had torn into his crew without hesitation and proved to be surprisingly efficient in battle.

'Perhaps they could have been a little more so,' he mused darkly. He wasn't supposed to be lying here, pretending to be unconscious while they argued above him. He wasn't supposed to come out of it alive.

"Did you see the way this one fought?" the same woman demanded, and he heard her boot scuff against the ground as she took a step closer.

“I see the way he’s down on the ground after a little scuffle.”

"He was graceful and precise,” she insisted. “I got the feeling he was barely trying, and he still landed blows on the both of us. He, at least, is not an average thief or killer. I think he may have been sent after us." Zevran silently cursed his training and reflexes and this woman’s apparent appreciation for the minor details of her opponents.

"'Tis hardly a surprise," chimed in a second woman. "Considering you're wanted for betraying your king. Surely some noble wants to claim the glory of avenging him without getting his hands dirty."

"And if that's the case, I want to find out exactly who it is," the first woman insisted, her tone tense.

"You may get your chance," the fourth answered in an Orlesian accent, "Look, his breathing has changed. I think he's waking up."

'Braska.'

---

Their interrogation had been fairly brief, all told. Being at their mercy and the end of his rope, he had adopted a facetious attitude from the start and had been rewarded with smirks from both the elf doing the questioning and the Orlesian and ever-deepening scowls from the other two. When he mentioned the name of the man who had hired him, however, the elf's expression darkened. She turned to lock eyes with the man, whose look of disapproval morphed into one of fury, and he thought that certainly they would be taking his life without further delay.

Instead, she had more questions for him. To his surprise, most of them were about himself. She was curious about the Crows - the lovely redhead beside her answered for him at the start, and he suspected he ought to pay more mind to those keen eyes than her easy smile - and, as it became apparent that she was not terribly inclined to kill him in cold blood, he had the idea to offer his services to her.

The man objected to his recruitment, perhaps wisely even Zevran would concede, but the elf convinced him they needed his help with little argument. The witch merely offered some disapproving sarcasm. And the Orlesian woman welcomed him readily only to roll her eyes at his flirtatious reply.

"We can get you healed when we get back to the others," the elf offered, dark eyes looking over the damage they had done to his body during their encounter. Kneeling beside him, she freed his hands before extending one of her own in order to help him up. Their gazes and palms met at the same time. "I'm Lalia Tabris," she told him before hauling him to his feet.

---

As they travelled, it was not unusual for Lalia to volunteer to stay first watch by the fire nearly every night. Zevran quickly gathered that one fun side effect of being a Warden was the nightmares, and it seemed that more often than not, attempting to sleep during the night meant waking in a cold sweat if they were lucky, and waking everyone with their screams if they were less so. His new leader preferred to remain awake during most of the night and try to catch a few hours of sleep here and there, just before sunrise when she was too exhausted to fight off rest any longer or during the day whenever possible.

Occasionally, others would join her. Well-meaning Alistair would stay up and chat with her from across the fire, or beguiling Leliana might be found telling her tales of home. Less frequently still, Sten, a great qunari he had learned to mostly avoid, would polish a sword beside her without a word, or perpetually annoyed Morrigan would approach after the others had retired.

Most nights, however, when Lalia offered to take the first watch, she took it alone.

Zevran had observed these little rituals with mild interest for nearly three weeks after joining their party without offering his own assistance. One night, however, the Warden once again claimed the watch for herself by sitting in her familiar place before the flames. None of the others moved to join her, so Zevran took it as his moment to finally do so. He sat down beside her, so close that their shoulders nearly touched, and shared in her silence.

The others paused to cast curious glances upon the two elves. He saw Alistair open his mouth to protest his fellow Warden being left alone at night with the assassin, but when the rest of his travel companions quickly resumed their preparations before turning in, he swallowed his concerns and followed suit.

They sat quietly for a long while that first night. Despite being with them for the better part of a month, Zevran had done little more than jest with the woman to whom he technically owed his life. She had been willing enough to play along with some of his flirtatious teasing, but he could tell it was superficial, a way to seem friendly while keeping him at a distance. He didn't blame her; not only had their introduction not been the typical first step down the road to companionship, he knew she had much more pressing matters on her mind than getting to know her would be murderer.

Judging by her wordless acceptance of his presence and the lack of tension in the stillness between them, she had become accustomed to him enough to feel comfortable being alone with him in the dark, a fact that made him strangely glad to realize. Even a modicum of trust always made things easier. He turned to gaze at her and was struck, for the first time, by the sadness in her eyes, eyes so dark a blue that they almost appeared black in the dimness. She stared at the flickering light, lost in thought, and he stared at her.

"Care to answer some questions?" she asked, abruptly, keeping her sight on the fire.

Caught off-guard, Zevran blinked and relaxed his posture. "Oh? This should be good. Go ahead."

Lalia finally turned to look him in the eyes, and the sadness that had shone in her own was replaced with a sparkling curiosity. "What does it take to become an assassin?"

Zevran raised an eyebrow but began describing the training in somewhat vague terms. He noticed the way she appeared more intrigued with every word and felt more confident as he continued to explain. She responded playfully at first, and he couldn't help but smile at her teasing. He watched as she pulled her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around her shins as he spoke. It was a charmingly childlike action that made him realize she might be younger than he had assumed. The thought pulled the smile from his lips as he finished describing how to debilitate a foe.

"That sounds like it could be useful," she admitted after taking a moment to process his words. He winked at her and asked her to keep it between them, and Lalia nodded in agreement. She closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the fire crackle softly, before asking, "Why did you want to leave the Crows, exactly?" She opened her eyes again to stare at him expectantly.

The Antivan chuckled. "Is there a reason for your sudden interest in me? Not that I can blame you for it."

"I've been interested," she responded honestly, "But we've never had much time alone, and I thought you might appreciate it if I avoided asking probing questions while other ears were around to hear the answers."

Zevran was taken aback by such consideration from her, but he kept his surprise from his features. "And appreciate it, I do," he acknowledged. He turned his eyes up toward the blackness above them, slowly examining the stars as he spoke, giving her some meandering half response until she pressed, wanting to know what exactly he would rather be doing. Her curiosity drew his gaze back to her face, where he searched for a reason for it and found only genuine interest in her eyes. It was unusual, and it made him realize just how rarely the people who came in and out of his world had looked at him like that, talked to him like that, how rarely he'd had to truly think about what he wanted.

He looked to the ground while he considered his words. He hesitated for a split second before deciding to delve deeper into his past. Her eyebrows knit together as he told her of being purchased as a boy, so he adjusted his tone to keep things light. It failed to keep the sadness from her eyes, however, and he almost demanded she spare him her pity, but as if sensing his discomfort, she quickly resorted to a flippant comment, typical of how they'd been talking since they met, flirtatious and meaningless.

In response, he narrowed his golden brown eyes and added a certain sultry quality to his voice in order to play along. She laughed, and Zevran wondered how much of a challenge it might be to bed her, but he brushed the thought away; this was not a woman who would appreciate any true advances during their first real conversation. Something to investigate another time. He concluded his answer to her question by pointing out that, at least for the time being, he was with her and warned her off talking of the Crows further lest she summon them.

He sat with her a while longer, enjoying the heat of the fire and a couple of her own stories of growing up in Denerim's alienage. At first, he chuckled softly as she described her home with sardonic humour, but by the end of her account of her drunken cousin ruining a highly anticipated wedding, he coudn't contain his laughter.

At the sound, Alistair poked his head out from his tent, unfortunately stationed nearest to them. "I'm glad you two are having such a marvelous evening together under the stars," he grumbled, clearly not at all glad for them. "But some of us are trying to get some sleep. You know, to be energized while trying to stop a Blight and all." Rather than await a reply, he closed his tent once more in a huff.

"Ah, I supposed I will give the man what he asks for and take that as my cue to retire," Zevran said with a smile as he rose, stretching languidly. "It's been a pleasure, Warden."

Her only response was a smile and eyes now devoid of their earlier melancholy.

---

"It seemed like you two were up for quite some time last night."

Zevran could hear Leliana from inside his tent, where he was currently packing up his supplies and avoiding yet another flavourless, grey Fereldan breakfast. He had learned she was a bard, and he suspected there might be a reason for the lilt in her voice as she spoke of him loudly enough for him to hear.

"No later than any of you ever sit first watch with me," Lalia replied. She must have also caught on to the lilt as her own tone sounded somewhat suspicious.

"Certainly noisier, though," Alistair complained, fighting a yawn out of his voice. "I still don't like the idea of keeping an assassin with us. Especially one with such a loud laugh."

Zevran briefly contemplated throwing out a retort from within his tent, but Lalia responded before he had the chance, "Too bad, he's staying."

"Because, according to you, he's useful, right?" Alistair grumbled. "Because he and his little poisoned daggers are going to help us get through this?"

"No," she answered, and Zevran's hands stilled at their task. "Because I like him and his loud laugh. Because I want to see him on the other side of this, same as with all of you." He felt the corners of his mouth quirk upward at the same time as his eyebrows. As Alistair snorted and Leliana made a cooing sound meant to tease, a small part of him was starting to believe that maybe not dying at her hand could be better than the alternative.

---------

Note: So I was trying to avoid reusing a ton of in-game dialogue because you see that often in DA fics, and while I don’t personally dislike it, I wondered if there was a way to incorporate those character building conversations without being too repetitive. I’m afraid what I did here came out too clunky and vague, unfortunately. Oh well.

#zevwarden week #zevran arainai #dragon age origins #dragon age #zevran/tabris

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