#archmageofazeroth

A million little things starters

Zevran was bent over a mess of books and papers. Diagrams, lists, maps. For two days after the rescue, he didn’t speak a word to anyone. But as soon as he did, he was swarmed by adventurers and leaders alike. Tell us everything you know. So he did his best. He would relive every moment of torture, every nerve ending of his body burning alive if it meant his notes would help the cause.

He winced as he sat up, and drew a blanket tighter around himself. He swore a city in the clouds was an awful idea. Someone would catch their death from the cold. It was certainly not the lingering chill in his bones from his recent captivity. 

“I have had worse.” 

He laid a hand over his belly where one of the worst was still healing. Likely to scar later.

“Besides, caro, even though I have no doubts you are exceedingly skilled, even you are just a man, yes? You cannot be everywhere at once.” 

❝ i’m a HEALER. ❞ his words came out ROUGHLY; stated with clear and precise accuracy, ❝ nothing else. ❞    

Ordinarily, he’d crack a joke, or pull some antic to save face when caught in a vulnerable moment. But being vulnerable around Khadgar was no atrocity, Zevran had learned. After all, the archmage had seen him at his worst, when Zevran flung himself headlong into death chasing some semblance of freedom, and still Khadgar was fond of him. The thought alone staggered him sometimes.

He was not yet accustomed to freedom, but he was learning.

Not doing too good sentence starters

Zevran sighed. The initial crisis was over. Spirited away on the back of a gryphon, looked over by countless healers, though nothing gave him more peace than having his blades in his hands again. He spent countless hours facing a training dummy until his muscles ached and his knuckles bled. Next time, he wouldn’t be caught so easily again. 

Now that things were returning to normal, of course, the questions began. The demands, the accusations. Zevran would almost rather be injured. 

Almost.

He dropped his stance, but didn’t turn to look at Khadgar. What could he have said in his defense? He knew the dangers going in. He knew the possibility of never seeing Khadgar again. But they were both guardians in their own right, and was the risk they took every day, fighting to defend their world. 

Super shippy starters | Mutuals only

It was prompted when they shared a chaste kiss on the steps of the Violet Citadel, an act which earned them a handful of stray looks, and gave Zevran no end of material. 

“I can see it now,” The assassin teased. Khadgar changed into a raven and hopped on Zevran’s shoulder. It afforded them the pretense of privacy, at least. “Cities burning. Sargeras sits proudly, the ruins of Dalaran his throne. Rivers red with blood. Survivors wailing why Khadgar, why did you choose a sin’dorei?!”

Khadgar pecked lightly at Zevran’s ear. Zevran laughed. 

“Somehow, I think no matter who I wed, Azeroth will survive.” 

Kissing meme | no longer accepting

21: Kiss in the Rain

They came as swiftly and unexpectedly as demons did, their only warning sign a fel-green streak in the sky before infernals rose from the festering craters. It was a sight to behold, like a vision of hell, the emerald flames undeterred by the ongoing storm. 

Zevran was a man unburdened by things like planning or hesitation, and so he wasted precious little time before flinging a blade towards an approaching vanguard, and launched himself into the fray. 

“Zevran!” Khadgar shouted, but it was too late. He slung a fireball at a demon with aims on Zevran’s exposed back. The throes of war were upon them. While Khadgar did his best to protect his allies, he kept an extra-close eye on Zevran, who vanished in and out of sight with a flurry of blades. Zevran earned his avian namesake, the way he flew through the air and landed blade-first into his target, riding it to the ground. Always a flair for the dramatic, even if it aged Khadgar another five years just to witness. 

The demons were disposed of after a short but fierce battle. Far from the host of the Legion’s strength or size, it was likely a scouting party, meant to chip away at their ranks. Complacency would be the death of them. Allies picked each other off the battlefield, blood and mourning washed away in the downpour. Khadgar scanned the forces immediately for Zevran, but found no trace. Panic rose. He tried to swallow it back. He’d been in this situation before. The ground thick with bodies, faces of his friends staring hollow back up at him, asking him why, why he couldn’t–

The elf appeared at his back, wrapping his arms enthusiastically around Khadgar’s waist. The archmage whirled on his heel. Zevran, I thought–

But Zevran was a man unburdened by explanations or long talks about his feelings, and he simply gripped Khadgar’s jaw in both hands and kissed him soundly. Khadgar let out a strangled, somewhat hysterical, sound, and kissed him in return. 

Le smooch | Not accepting

32: Wedding Kiss (let the ship sail)

Of all his trinkets curious and magical, the earring Khadgar turned over in his fingers held, perhaps, the quietest and most important power. It was a simple band of unadorned gold, allegedly snatched from some woman’s boudoir. It was a cheeky metaphor for Zevran, he thought, stealing affections so simple and small they would go unnoticed. 

He didn’t tell Zevran that, anyways, the elf already so squirrely when presenting him the gift. Like an animal backed into a corner, first trying to escape, then lashing out. 

You must understand: in my work, such things are not only forbidden, but dangerous. 

“Are you ready?” Zevran’s voice calls Khadgar out of his reverie. The archmage looks up, eyes crinkling.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ceremony first?” He teased, “the marriage of the archmage; that’s a grand occasion.”

Zevran said nothing. He didn’t have to. Immediately, the droop in his ears gave him away. Khadgar smiled, unable to resist. With an arm around Zevran’s waist, Khadgar pulled him close. 

“It’s just a joke. To ease the tension.” 

Khadgar eyed the needle Zevran held, to illustrate his point. He ran red-hot fingers across the length. Zevran chuckled softly. 

“Let me distract you.” 

Zevran kissed Khadgar, firm and enthusiastic. Two small stabs, and a dull ache. Khadgar reached up, feeling the weight of the band hanging from his ear, and found comfort in the gesture. That was it, then, such a small thing, yet held a promise greater than the sum of their parts.