April 14th - April 20th

In the moments after the archdemon was defeated, Zevran saw the warden, his warden, laying there motionless and his heart broke, because he knew something wasn’t right.

He scrambled to her side and quickly took off her gauntlet to check for a heartbeat, which he didn’t find.

When he didn’t, he felt tears come to his eyes, he was falling apart.

“Come, you can’t be dead, Mi Amor,” he whispered to the woman he was holding onto as his tears fell onto her lifeless, blood-splattered face.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, making an assassin cry,” he told her as he tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Oh no.” Leliana’s voice sobbed before she fell down on her knees beside the elf, unable to believe her eyes.

Just at that time, Zevran felt a heavy hand land on his shoulder, “I am so sorry, Zevran.” Alistair told him, trying his best not to fall apart either.

***

Zevran tried to hold it together for the service but he couldn’t hold it together, no matter how hard he tried.

He kept replaying the night before the archdemon was slain in his head, that night he should’ve known something was wrong from the eagerness in her every move.

She held onto him as if it was their last night together, which she knew it was and she didn’t even tell him.

Had he known she was going to die, he would’ve cherished every moment of that night all that much more.

Finally, as her brother and brother-in-arms started to recite a prayer for her, he left, unable to keep his emotions at bay any longer.

Before he could get far, Alistair caught up to him, “Wait, I have something for you.” he called out, causing Zevran to quickly rub the tears off his cheeks.

“What is it?” he managed to ask, just then Alistair put a necklace in his hand, the very one his warden always wore.

“She’d probably want you to have something to remind you of her,” Alistair told him.

Zevran couldn’t bring himself to say anything for fear of losing what composure he kept, but Alistair nodded knowingly anyway, “She liked you for some reason.” he said before walking away without another word.

***

Not much later, Zevran was in the room he shared with the warden the night before, getting ready to leave for Antiva when Fergus Cousland knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Zevran called, not really caring who it was at the door.

“You’re Zevran, correct?” a voice called from the doorway.

He hummed an agreement as he busied himself gathering his weapons from various places around the room.

An odd silence followed for a few moments, “My sister, she left a letter, actually a lot of them if I’m to be truthful.” Fergus told the elf, “She cared a lot for you.” he finally said before grabbing something from the pouch on his hip.

“I think you should have this,” he said as he held out a ring to the assassin, “It was my sisters,” he added.

Most of that evening was spent talking about the warden.

Before Zevran left to go back to Antiva that night, Fergus gave him the journal he had seen his warden writing in every night at camp.

Inside, the pages were filled with letters, the letters Fergus told him about, they were mostly addressed to Fergus when the warden believed him dead.

Those letters were mostly about her companions and their travels, but others were about Zevran himself and how grateful she was to have him by her side.

***

Even several years later he still wore her ring bearing the Cousland family crest close to his heart on the very necklace she used to wear.

i know its the last day of the event and im just now posting day 2 but whatever

ao3 link

It had been three days since Arl Eamon had begun his recovery, thanks to The Urn of Sacred Ashes, and Arren was itching to get back on the road.  After the events outside of Haven the rest of his group was concerned for his well being.  One doesn’t just kill their tainted near-bonded without any repercussions.  But Arren’s wasn’t one to voice his emotions like that, he didn’t want to worry anyone, which, of course, just made them even more so.  The rest of the group wanted to relax a couple of days in Redcliffe.  Arl Eamon had graciously offered them each a room in his castle and they were all eager to sleep in real beds.  Except Arren, who just wanted to get back on the road.  He never liked cities, and he had a hard time sitting still, especially when he was trying to avoid thinking about something.

As Anya finished doing her hair, she heard a loud laugh coming from down the hall, causing her to smile, because she knew it was her husband’s laugh as he chased their son through the halls.

The door opened just as she stood up to straighten her corset after putting on her mask.

“Amor, you are absolutely stunning,” Zevran told her before putting their son down on the bed where he finally turned his attention to his mother.

“Wow, you look pretty, Mama,” Evan said quietly because unlike either of his adoptive parents or any of his nonrelated family, he was a softspoken boy.

“Thank you, Da'len.” she cooed before picking him up and kissing his forehead, “Are you going to be good for everyone while we’re away?” she asked the young elf sweetly, to which he just nodded his head.

“Are the both of you ready?” Velanna asked from the doorway behind Zevran, catching him off guard.

“Auntie ‘Lanna!” Evan squealed when he saw her in the doorway, causing Anya to laugh.

After being put down he ran over to jump into Velanna’s arms, “We’re ready when you are and by the way, I think you look beautiful in Warden blue.” Zevran chuckled.

“I refuse to fall for your charms, Assassin,” she told him before turning around and leaving the room without another word.

Anya walked over to her husband where he draped his arm over her shoulder, careful not to mess up her hair and kissed her cheek softly.

“I told them they didn’t have to come if they didn’t want to come,” she told him before reaching up to entwine her fingers with his.

***

Later that night, somehow their plan had gone sideways, and that led to Zevran sitting half-naked in the window, cleaning blood off of his armor, while Anya crouched in the room just waiting for Nathaniel to lure in a woman whose dress she could steal to get into the party they needed to get into, without drawing unwanted attention to herself.

“Why couldn’t Zevran lure the woman in?” Velanna asked from the place where she stood behind the door.

“Because he is covered in blood Velanna, and unlike me, most women don’t go for the murderous man in sexy armor nowadays.” she joked.

Zevran chuckled when Anya said that but didn’t make whatever comment he was thinking about making, because at just that time a woman was backed through the doorway, with Nathaniel connected to her lips.

Nathaniel started to apologize to the woman just before Velanna worked her magic, making her pass out and start to fall to the floor, only just being stopped when Nate caught her in his arms.

Anya started to scold Velanna for not being careful, but she saw the sour look she was throwing to the unconscious woman in Nathaniel’s arms, so decided against it, making a mental note to ask her about that jealous look she had given the woman later.

“Okay, get her on the bed, I need that dress,” Anya told the older warden, to which he just grumbled a reply as he hoisted the limp woman up into his arms and made his way toward the bed.

Being raised to be the gentleman he was, Nathaniel turned away when Anya, Velanna, and Zevran started to get the dress off of the unconscious woman, and even though he had seen the commander in various degrees of nudity more times than he could, he stayed turned away when he heard Zevran make an inappropriate comment about Anya.

After Zevran had helped Anya squeeze into the dress she groaned loudly, “Nathaniel Rendon Howe, I’m flattered you think I’m this small but good lord man, next time choose a mark with bigger breasts!” she whined, careful not to inhale too sharply for fear of ripping the corset of the dress.

“She was the only woman without a man on her arm.” he defended.

“You’re a man in uniform, any featherbrained woman would gladly let you get them in bed, man on their arm or not,” Zevran assured him.

Anya giggled a little at what Zevran said before she opened her mouth, “And maybe some men.” she added.

***

The two couples entered separately, Velanna and Nathaniel as a simple pair of grey wardens who happened to have been invited by Princess Thea Risen of Par Vollen, while Zevran and Anya came as Princess Thea Risen of Par Vollen, and her guard for the night.

“Princess Risen, I didn’t know we would be in the presence of royalty!” one of the partygoers said when she heard the doorman greet her.

“You don’t look like a Qunari.” one of the other partygoers said a bit venomously.

In a perfect Par Vollen accent, Anya spoke to him threateningly, “You do not know the ways of Par Vollen, nor do you know the ways of the Qun, Bas.” she nearly growled.

Zevran stepped in front of his wife, giving the illusion of protecting her from said partygoer, “The Qun consists of many races, but only those most skilled in the art of killing are permitted to leave Par Vollen without so much as a small army accompanying them.” he warned.

The doorman saw that things were very close to becoming heated, and for fear of pissing off a foreign leader, he quickly shoved the offending partygoer outside and started to apologize to the fake Princess and her guard profusely.

Once inside, both couples began looking for the man they came to find, a man who knew something that they needed to find out.

Zevran and Anya ended up dancing after a short while of not finding the man they needed to see, the dance they danced was actually a foreign dance, one Sten had taught her back during their days traveling across Thedas.

Of course, it is rare for a Qunari to dance, but if they do it is only one dance, a strong elegant one, one that could easily be turned into a battle strategy if need be.

When the song they were dancing to ended, a man came up to Anya and asked for a dance, to which she refused, “Do you know the dance of the Qun?” she asked, to which he stuttered a now nervous ‘no’ to.

“Then no, I will not dance with you.”

***

Elegance comes in many sizes, shades, and colors, and that night it came in a flurry of knives, and a large blast of magic once the two couples found out that there was an assassin in their midst, for someone had put a very real contract out on a very fake Princess.

Thankfully the group had retrieved the information they came for before the assassin made his move, but unfortunately, he was not alone, they were not Crows, no, they were more skilled.

Somehow Anya had ripped an entire layer of her dress off, and wrapped it around a man’s throat, subsequently breaking his neck when she yanked the lace-like fabric back toward herself.

“I can’t believe they would try to ruin our evening.” Zevran jokingly told Anya over the sound of people screaming and attempting to get out before the assassins could kill them, granted they weren’t the targets.

“I know, how very rude!” she said, dropping her fake accent as she pulled a dagger out of the sheath between her breasts and stabbing a man in the eye socket with it.

Unfortunately, once the assassins attacked, the gig was up, for all four of them, and guards started to swarm the four in an attempt to arrest them.

With some quick maneuvering and a lot of fucking luck, the four managed to evade capture, “Split up, you know where we need to go, so let’s go!” Anya ordered her two fellow wardens as they ran.

Eventually, after trekking through a muddy bog, the group reunited just as they approached an eerie looking castle, “This is it, we’re here.” she said.

“We finally made it.” the youngest of her warden recruits sighed as she looked up at the towering walls in front of them.

A few days late, but oh well, here’s my Warden offering Zevran a scarf, because Ferelden is supposedly fucking cold.

It is a rare thing to see a mage working with one of Thedas’ most deadly groups of assassins because it is well known that the Crows are very selective in who can join their ranks.

Forced into a place she had not wanted to be because of a religion she did not practice and their fear of things they did not understand.

She grew up secluded with others like her, but somehow someone found out she was very talented in the art of seducing both men and women before she was caught and taken to the circle, that someone happened to be an Antivan Crow.

***

It had been five years since she was broken out of the circle and recruited by the Crows.

Five years since she became a Crow herself when she was offered a contract on someone different than her usual targets.

Her usual targets were usually men with more coin than common sense who she could hardly stomach to look at, but this target was different, quite attractive if she were to be truthful.

While she glanced at the sketch of the elf she was supposed to kill, the man in charge of giving her the information cleared his throat.

“This man, Zevran I believe he was called, has been a pain in someone’s neck in Ferelden, one Teryn Loghain will be notified once you finish your part and report back to the man we will have stationed in Denerim.” the man said.

“We need him taken care of very soon, by that I mean the sooner, the better.” the man added.

Alia just glanced up at the man with a confused look, “You want me to go to Ferelden, one of the coldest places in all of Thedas?” she asked.

“Cold weather aside, I believe this is one you can handle on your own Amell.”

“I’ll take it,” she said before standing up and walking away.

“Just be careful, Amell, because there’s rumor he may be a Grey Warden.”

She just laughed coldly as she looked over her shoulder at him, “Good, I’ve never killed one of those before.” she told the man before leaving the room completely.

The next thing she knew she was on Ferelden soil and ready to

***

“I can’t believe Duncan recruited you of all people!” Alistair groaned as the elf walking in front of them started to flirt with the old mage that had just joined them.

“What can I say, he had good tastes.” Zevran laughed.

“I can’t believe that the fate of everyone in Thedas lies with the two of you imbeciles.” Morrigan groaned, causing Zevran to laugh.

As the small group walked and threw banter back and forth, the sun got lower in the sky, and the assassin mage Alia Amell worked out her plan for attack while she followed, not far behind the group.

***

Where she got the horse she was riding, well, she stole it, as she does many things when circumstance calls for it.

Finally from not far behind, just far enough to not be seen, she made out their forms starting to set up camp, and with that, she knew her plan was being set into motion.

She shook her hair down from the elegant style it was in and glanced around at the surrounding trees, “Time to put on a show.” she smirked.

***

The group was gathered around the fire that night eating in relative silence aside from a few attempts on Leliana’s part to interact with Morrigan and Sten when a woman’s scream broke through the air.

Mere seconds later the entirety of the camp was standing with their weapons drawn, frantically looking for the source of the terrified screaming when a woman riding a horse broke through the nearby treeline, appearing to be holding onto the horse’s neck for dear life.

As soon as the horse started to jump over the small firepit, the woman screamed again as she seemingly lost her grip on the horse’s neck and started to fall to the ground.

Wynne was quick to approach the short woman as soon as she hit the ground, “Oh dear, are you okay?” she asked when the woman let out a pained whimper.

“Fine, fine, I’ll be fine,” Alia assured the older mage in a shaky voice.

“That was quite some fall.” the redhead pointed out as she approached the stranger.

Upon seeing her face, Alia smiled, “Maybe I fell for you, I do have a thing for redheads you know.” she joked.

“Not another one,” Morrigan groaned as she shook her head.

“Oh, damn.” Alia winced as she attempted to sit up straight, “Don’t worry, you’re pretty sexy for a brunette.” she assured the apostate, gaining a laugh from someone currently standing behind her.

“As much as I’m enjoying this, maybe you should tell us what happened.” the voice behind her said.

She soon realized that the voice belonged to a templar and moved quickly as if she was trying to get away from him, but she whimpered in pain when her arm touched the ground.

“Alistair, quit, you’re scaring the poor woman!” said the man she was sent to kill, “This is Wynne, she’ll heal your injuries and I am Zevran,” he announced.

Introductions were then made, granted Alia already knew most of their names from earlier when she was eavesdropping on their little group.

Zevran had already attempted to get Alia to blush, but with every inappropriate joke he had, she had one to counter his and the only one left truly flustered was Alistair.

She played her part well, a scared apostate from the Kirkwall that spent most of her life running away from the circle and the templars that hurt so many she knew.

Even going as far as deliberately staying out of the way of Alistair for most of the night, putting on a face of fear, granted she knew of at least seven ways she could put him on his ass without magic or a weapon.

Sten, Morrigan, and Alistair were the only ones who didn’t immediately trust her, but the others fell into a state of ease around her, as most of the people she killed had done before.

For some reason, Alia hesitated though, she couldn’t bring herself to kill the Wardens, nor their companions that night as all but the one keeping watch slept mere feet away from her.

She already had it planned, when the Qunari took his watch, she would kill him first, then the ex-templar followed by the bard then she would kill the mages, leaving the elder one for last while hoping the resident mabari didn’t alert them to her.

Somehow she couldn’t do it, she had killed hundreds of people but these ones were different.

The night she infiltrated their group she knew she would have to do what she was sent to do, no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t kill them.

They were a family of sorts, the kind she couldn’t remember ever being a part of and that’s is how she ended up joining the small group of misfits.

***

As they traveled across Ferelden, Zevran and Alia grew close, closer than any assassin should be to their mark.

She never once lied when he asked her a question about her past, granted she did leave small details out, but she was even truthful about what she did before she came to Ferelden, and telling him she was employed by the Crows, but asking the others not find out.

It was true, she was born and raised in Kirkwall, and she did run to get away from the templars that could be hunting her, she let them know that she was a mage, skilled with seduction and various weapons, but not how she became a master of the art.

***

Eventually, she fell into bed with the resident elf and that exact night, something clicked inside of her head and she knew she had to tell him why she truly was there in the woods that night.

After that night, she started to ignore his advances and hers completely stopped, she didn’t want him to notice, but he did notice, and he asked her about it while setting up camp one night.

She didn’t lie, she told him their night had influenced her and she just needed to think before she would join him in his tent again.

He had no ill feelings toward her for rejecting his offer of stress relief, but he was rather worried about her, seeing as she had changed after they slept together, now choosing to sit further away from him at night around the camp’s main fire.

***

Somehow they found themselves in Orzammar with a dwarf who decided to join their merry little gang of misfits because his wife had run off before they delved into the Deep Roads.

Camping in the Deep Roads was far from the glamor Alia was used to in Antiva, but she couldn’t complain too much considering that it was warmer than the Frostbacks they had just trekked through for much longer than she would’ve liked.

The tense atmosphere was apparently unbearable to their group’s newcomer, given how short of an amount of time it took for him to point of the obvious.

The obvious being lingering glances, longing sighs and unspoken words on both ends, “What’s wrong with the two of them?” Oghren asked the older mage as she darned Alistair’s socks.

Wynne glanced up to see what he was talking about and found herself looking at two clueless fools, “I believe they are in love with each other but too foolish to realize it.” she whispered to the man, gaining a humorous snort in reply.

“Any sodding nug humper could see that, but I mean why aren’t they talking?”

Wynne laughed softly, “I believe that would be a question best asked to them.” she told him.

***

Eventually, Leliana found herself roped into doing Oghren’s dirty work that night, getting the two love-struck fools to talk to each other, she was in charge of speaking to Alia and Oghren took the challenge of speaking to Zevran.

On both ends, it was difficult to get their comrades to take their concern seriously, but eventually with some help from Alistair and Wynne too, Alia confessed she wasn’t sure why she couldn’t talk to him anymore, that it was just too difficult, that she wasn’t used to felling such a way.

“That thing you’re feeling might just be love, Alia.” Leliana giggled, “It’s not a bad thing, you just love him.” she added.

***

Their comrades had made them realize what was right in front of them, and on Alia’s part that meant she had to tell him the truth.

The next night as the group was setting up camp, Alia made her way to Zevran and started to speak the words she had been rehearsing the entire day in her head, “I need to speak to you, in private about something very important that I need you to know.” she said in a single rushed breath.

“Is it about something naughty, because I always enjoy talking about naughty things.”

Alia just shook her head, “No, Zevran, it’s serious.” she told him.

“Everyone is being so serious these days.” he hummed before motioning for her to follow him down the corridor for some privacy, or at least the illusion of it.

The mabari followed them as they walked, “I need you to know the truth.” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

He hummed, nonverbally telling her to continue, “I was sent to kill you by the Crows, Zevran.” she explained.

“I know.” were the only words he said in reply.

“I understand if you are upset, I can leave now if you- Wait, what?” she exclaimed, causing Zevran to chuckle.

“I have seen crow daggers before, and there is no absolute way they would ever let one of their own be hunted by templars,” he said.

“With the pieces of your story that you have told me, it was easy to fill in the blanks.”

Her mouth hung open as she stopped walking, “You’re going to catch flies like that, Dear Mage.” he joked.

She started to ask if the others knew but he quickly told her that they didn’t and wouldn’t unless she wished for them to know.

With their little chat that night in the deep roads, they came to an understanding or an agreement of sorts.

They spoke much that night, agreeing to go back to the way things were before they slept together.

Back to being on speaking terms, led to their comrades being forced to put up with twice as much flirtatious banter than usual, and with Alia’s agreement, Zevran found the opportune moment to drop the news of why she really was in Ferelden that fateful night.

Of course, everyone was in shock, but the couple played it off as thinking everyone knew about her originally only being there to kill her mark but joining the group once she found out that their goals benefited much more than if she were to kill them all.

Surprisingly Sten even went as far as praising her, “Not many assassins would be able to infiltrate a group as easily as you did without alerting a well trained Qunari to their plans.” he said.

The Crows never sent anyone after her because they thought she was dead, but they did send another group after Zevran and his group of misfits in an attempt to fulfill the contract taken out on him, but with his assassin at his back, those who sought to kill him did not succeed.

Together this group gathered an army to defeat the blight, they dubbed them heroes in their victory, and songs were sung of said victory for years to come.

ZevWarden Week 2019

‘Do you know when Theron’s nineday is?’

It was a simple note, as clear as it could possibly be. But yet, here was Alistair’s response.

‘His what?’

The Warden-Commander Ellena Amell woke up just as the sun started to peek through the windows of the room that they claimed, almost immediately she noticed the erection pressed against her thigh.

“Zev,” she started as she tiredly reached over to tap him on the shoulder, receiving a sleepy mumble in reply, “Love, time to get up if we want to get home before the week is up.” She said as she nudged him with her elbow.

“Amor, I adore you, but please not so loud, I am a bit hung over.” He whispered before nuzzling her neck.

She turned to completely face him before speaking again, “If you want to fix this-” she started as she gently rubbed the bulge in his pants causing him to quietly moan before he opened his eyes a bit and glanced at her, “Then you need to wake up a little.” She smiled.

“I hate mornings.” He said before he kissed her neck, “I hate being hungover.” He told her as his hands explored her mostly unclothed body, “And I hate being teased like this.” He admitted before he caught her lips with his.

As their tongues danced together, he rolled her onto her back and she started to trail her nails up and down his sides, making him moan in pleasure.

As always, his kisses were eager but gentle, quick but precise, just like they were when she first realized she had fallen for the witty and utterly charming elf.

His hands make quick work of the few clothes she was wearing while he busied his mouth with leaving marks all over her neck and chest.

Soon enough she was straddling him and roughly nipping at his bottom lip while she grinded her hips against his teasingly.

As she passionately kissed him, his hands were resting on her hips, gently squeezing them in an attempt to stop her torturous teasing ways, she felt something, something she knew she couldn’t have felt knowing Zevran had no magic and was far from a mage.

She continued on teasing the Antivan she loved, ignoring what she thought she felt coming from his hands, until she felt it again, stronger yet.

Ellena stopped dead in her tracks, pulling away from Zevran’s lips immediately, “You’re not a mage.” She said.

“No, of course not,” he laughed, “Now why did you stop?” He questioned.

“You just used magic, I felt it.” She told him as she stared into his eyes, “Do what you did just a minute ago.” She suggested, so he did.

Putting his hands back on her hips he leaned up to meet her mouth with his but stopped immediately when he felt the electricity on his fingertips.

“Well, that was unexpected.”

Ellena quickly stood up and started to get dressed, “Clothes on, now.” She demanded.

“Why?” He questioned, “I don’t see a problem in finishing what we’ve already started.” He added, gaining a worried look from Ellena, “As you wish.” He said.

•••

Very little time had passed, a little over two and a half days of near nonstop journey, by the time they reached a small secluded cabin in the middle of the woods that apparently Ellena had been told an old friend might inhabit.

Zevran didn’t know what to expect from his mage, of course, she probably didn’t know what to expect either.

Upon approaching the small cabin it was clear there were people inside, and from the sounds of it someone was crying and a few people were arguing.

She didn’t even knock on the door, she just opened it with the fury of a small dragon.

“Anders!” She yelled as soon as she saw a tall figure in ugly mages robes.

“I need your assistance, my elf has magic and I don’t know why or how or what to do because we were about to have a quickie before heading home but he did that thing you taught me how to do with the electricity and I’m just freaking out!” She ranted quickly, seemingly saying all of that in one breath without even noticing the amount of company the man had already.

Anders groaned loudly before whispering “Not you too.” He ran his hand down his face before turning his face toward the ceiling and groaning again.

“I don’t know why you all would think I’d know, and seriously how do you all know where to find me?” He asked exhaustedly.

He glanced over to Zevran then back to the two elves who seemed to each be having a crisis, “At least yours is handling it better than the others.” Anders told Ellena jokingly as he pointed over his shoulder to the two couples behind him.

The tan elf Zevran remembered meeting back in Kirkwall was apparently having an internal crisis, staring off into the distance with his mouth hanging slightly open beside his tall and handsome bearded mage.

While a blonde elf was clearly having an external crisis while sobbing into a horned Qunari mages shoulder while the Qunari whispered softly into her ear.

Glancing around the room Ellena finally seen the small group in the room, which included several unknown faces to the Warden.

“Hello, I’m Ellena, this is Zevran,” she introduced herself and Zevran to the group before turning back to Anders, “He’s not supposed to have magic.” She added.

“We believe we might know why I’m Varric by the way.” The dwarf in the corner announced.

“But we don’t know how to fix it.” The Qunari added before introducing herself as the inquisitor, careful not to move in her seat too much.

“That’s Hawke and Fenris, the one falling apart on the inquisitor’s shoulder is Sera,” Anders told Ellena before sitting down himself.

“Anders!” A voice yelled from outside the cabin loudly, causing Zevran and Ellena to look at each other in confused recognition.

“Isabela?” The couple whispered just before the door flung open and there stood the pirate in long boots herself, holding what looked to be a tiny and unconscious Dalish elf flung over her shoulder.

“Crap, not her too.” Anders mumbled, “Varric, inquisitor, please explain what the shit is happening.” He added as he led Isabela to the bed so she could put her elf down.

•••

The story that followed was interesting, to say the least.

According to the story told, an elvish deity was to blame to severing the veil and releasing magic to all elves, from those who had magic to those who didn’t.

From what the inquisitor was saying, some elves who had magic beforehand had ended up dead or seriously injured, explaining how the elf Isabela was carrying, Merrill, was unconscious.

By the time the story was over Ellena was fuming, “Where is he, I’m going to scalp that sodding piss brain!” She growled, letting a bit of a dwarven accent drip into her words from the months they had spent in Orzammar.

When the group heard that tone coming from the sweet little mage that walked in shortly before, more panicked than the elf behind her, it finally clicked between those who did not know already, that she was the Hero of Ferelden and she was pissed.

•••

With assistance from their significant others and their small group of friends from the cabin that day, those four that were immediately affected by the Dread Wolf’s arrogance honed their newfound skills, granted two of them were very unwilling participants.

As time passed, that group grew closer in their time of need and hardship.

Vowing to make sure their friends were safe, they started to hunt for the trail of the Dread Wolf.

ZevWarden Week 2019

Bit of an extrapolation on this scenario I mentioned in Shards of Antiva

Not that there weren’t nice things about Fereldan winters. Big fireplaces. Fur rugs. Fur rugs in front of big fireplaces, and Antivan brandy warmed by the flames, and Theron blocked from doing work because everything was snowed in-

The hollow sound of the wind woke them. The world outside the window was solid grey.

Zevran yanked the blankets over his head and grumbled when Theron sat up without regard for letting the heat out.

“Huh.” Theron’s voice penetrated the dark, warm nest Zevran was making for himself in their bed. “They weren’t wrong, the Waking Sea really does-”

He stopped when then grey outside abruptly lit up. The deep boom that immediately followed made Zevran shift the blankets enough to be able to peer at the weather with distrust.

When the morning sun started to come through the windows of the room, Anya was the first one to wake.

As consciousness came to her she soon realized that she hadn’t moved from the spot she had fallen asleep at all night.

Still laying with her head on Zevran’s chest with his arm wrapped around her, she felt the happiest she had been for a long time.

“I can almost hear the wheels turning in your head, Mi Amor.” Zevran’s morning voice greeted, causing her to smile.

“I’m just thinking about how happy I am to wake up in your arms again,” she told him softly before shifting away from him to look into his eyes.

“So, when do we go hunting?” she asked before kissing his cheek.

He hummed for a moment in thought.

“Carlos told me about several missing children last night, and he believes the Crows might be involved, he also told me that the chantry mother seemed suspicious,” he informed his wife.

“She arrived the same day that the old chantry mother mysteriously disappeared without a word, and the very same week she arrived is the week children started to vanish,“ he explained.

“Moreso than they usually do at least,” he added.

“The Crows weren’t content with buying children, so they started to steal them?” Anya guessed.

“That is what Carlos thinks, and as do I.” he agreed.

After a few moments of silent thinking on both of their parts, Anya spoke up again.

“We’re going to interrogate the suspicious mother, aren’t we?” she asked before she started to kiss his neck.

“Yes, I suppose we are, it does seem like the best place to start after all, doesn’t it?”

***

Later that evening in the chantry, a group of three Crows came while only two people were present there.

A woman with coal black hair wearing a set of chantry robes, and a man, covered by a black hooded cloak, sitting in one of the pews whispering frantically as he prayed.

Upon seeing the woman in the chantry robes one of the Crows started to get an uneasy feeling, “Where’s mother Tiffany?” he asked immediately.

“Not to worry, she got a bit tied up with other business,“ she told the men.

“I’ll assist you in her stead.” the woman in chantry robes whispered kindly.

They were soon pointed toward a door on the far side of the room and they walked ahead of the woman toward the door.

Little did the men know that the woman in chantry robes and the man in the pews were not what they seemed.

Upon opening the door they were pointed toward, they found the suspicious chantry mother bound and gagged trying to scream a warning to the three.

They turned abruptly as soon as they saw the woman in her broken state, and drew their weapons, though they were not fast enough.

A dagger took out one of the Crows before he even had the chance to turn around, while the other two met arrows eye to eye when they turned around.

“I bet you do not remember me.” the man in the cloak said calmly in his thick Antivan accent.

One of the men immediately recognized the voice, “Zevran Arainai.” he said.

“You’re supposed to be dead.” the other gasped as he stepped backward.

“One, I don’t go by that anymore, and two, I’m clearly not dead.”

The dramatic silence that followed was broken by a feminine laugh.

Just before releasing the arrow she had drawn, Anya told the man she was facing “But you are,” before sending it through his left eye socket.

“Oh, Ricardo,” Zevran greeted while he smiled at the man on the other end of his arrow, “Meet my wife, Anya,” Zevran told him before he too was killed.

***

Zevran had removed his cloak to reveal the guard’s armor he was wearing under it while Anya quickly changed back into her civilian clothes before they entered the room where they knew the children were being kept.

Upon entering the room, they saw a much larger group of children than they expected to see.

Especially given that the Crows came every two weeks or so to claim some of the children that the chantry mother had gathered.

“Maker’s breath.” they both said simultaneously.

They counted thirty-one children altogether, ranging from newborns to a few young teenagers.

Zevran was acting as a city guard while returning children and trying not to bring too much attention to himself in the process.

Soon enough, only two children remained, both of them bearing pointed ears, unlike most of the other children that had been returned to their families.

A newborn baby boy and the eldest girl that was in the room with the rest of the children were the only remaining ones.

When Zevran walked back into the chantry, he heard his wife speaking softly to the little girl sitting on the floor in front of her.

“What’s your name, Dalen?” she asked quietly.

The little girl just stared at her for a minute before looking down at her hands, “I don’t have one.” she whispered.

Anya clearly didn’t know how to reply from the shocked look on her face.

Zevran cleared his throat at just that time, announcing he had returned.

When she turned her attention to him, he silently motioned that he wanted a word with her in private.

After a bit of silence, Zevran just shook his head sadly.

“If they don’t have a name when the Crows start training them, they usually don’t give them one unless they are certain they will succeed in their training.” he finally explained.

“I know, you told me that before, but just the thought of that sweet little girl just- it’s unsettling, Zevran,” she told him, he just nodded his head in agreement.

“That girl has apparently been with the Crows since birth and her parents are long gone,” he told his wife.

“On the other hand, the boy was given away freely after his mother died because his father could not afford to care for him.”

“Or so our friend the fake chantry mother told me,” he said before wrapping his arms around Anya’s small frame loosely.

Anya looked absolutely horrified, “We can’t leave them here.” she whispered.

“I agree, but do you have a plan?” He asked as he turned around to glance at the two children.

A smirk crossed her face, “Damn right I have a plan.” she told her husband sweetly.

***

Sometime later, they arrived at a small building back away from the main streets.

Two quick knocks and then third brought a man to the door.

“Carlos, we require some assistance,” Zevran told him.

“What the shit have you been up to?” he asked as his eyes darted between the two sleeping children they were carrying.

“Long story, let us in to explain while you get these two some papers.” Anya bargained.

Carlos just nodded as he stepped to the side in order to let them inside.

After the small group walked inside, Carlos cleared his throat quietly as if not to wake the baby in Zevran’s arms, nor the sleeping girl on Anya’s hip.

“So, the kids?” he asked as he grabbed a few things from a nearby desk.

“We’d rather you just not ask unless you’re willing to listen to how we killed three crows and assaulted that suspicious chantry mother until she told us what we wanted to know,” Anya told the man calmly.

Zevran chuckled softly, “Not to mention the fact that we liberated thirty-one children from under their noses and returned them to their families.” he added.

Carlos just shook his head in disbelief, “Right, don’t need to know,” he said before turning his attention to the paper in front of him, “What’s the older one’s name?” he asked the couple.

They both just looked at each other, then to the girl in question, “What do you think about Lana?” Zevran asked his wife, to which she shook her head.

“Sounds too much like my name,” she said as she glanced out the window, “Luna,” she said quickly.

Zevran hummed, “Luna Elenora Cousland it is then.” he told her before turning to Carlos and repeating the name without giving Anya any time to object.

When he said the middle name he chose for the child without even telling Anya he was going to, her mouth fell open in disbelief.

Surely he didn’t remember the night they sat around the fire when she told him about her mother, he couldn’t.

A few moments later Carlos asked for the babies name, and before Zevran could turn around to ask her, she said “Evan.” to which Zevran just gave her a questioning look in reply.

“Yes, Evan Brycen Cousland,” he finally told Carlos as he glanced down at the baby in his arms.

Soon enough Carlos handed them the forged papers for them to use going back to Fereldan and led them to the door.

On their way to the inn to retrieve their things, Zevran had admitted to using a variation of her parents’ names because he remembered how much she told him she missed them when they first became close enough to speak of such things.

Knowing that Zevran remembered something so small made Anya smile.

“Oh! Zevran, Congratulations,” she said when they started to step into the inn.

“What are you congratulating me on?” he asked as he adjusted the blanket in which the baby was wrapped.

“You’re a father.” she giggled.

Zevran did open his mouth to object at first, but quickly closed his mouth when he saw his wife brushing hair out of Luna’s face.

im the host of the damn week and im 2 days behind lmao

ao3 link

It was yet another bleak Fereldon night, and their journey to elusive Haven left most of the Wardens travelling companions shivering or complaining.  Most of all the Antivan elf who still sat with his teeth chattering despite being seated by the fire as soon as camp was set.  He tugged his cloak tighter around himself, cursing this country yet again as another breeze blew through the camp.  He had exchanged his preferred leathers and skirts for warmer clothes that still gave him adequate movement during battle, but he felt it did little to protect him from the snowy climate.

Zevran eyed the distant vaulted ceiling of the hall, years of Crow training sending wary memories of daggers from above and hails of arrows slicing out of shadowed rafters skittering down his tense spine. Almost on instinct, he angled himself towards the open air in the center of the room, wall brushing his shoulders with each step. He hadn’t been at Vigil’s Keep long. Even Reyja’s proximity, the promise of which had kept him pushing through his quest for justice, couldn’t temper the assassin senses that had kept him alive.

But Vigil’s Keep, despite the new Wardens and those who had chosen to help them swarming the fortress, sang with a different energy than Zevran had felt across Antiva or the Free Marches. He returned here as often as he could, though not nearly as often as he would like. This time, he’d been gone for over a year, the remaining Crows casting him across Antiva like fishing line, luring him to hideout after hideout. He couldn’t resist such fine bait. In his absence, Reyja’s Wardens nearly doubled in number and their conviction suffused the stones of the keep itself, ringing out with each clash of practice swords in the courtyard and the steady chip of dwarven pickaxes in the quarries.

Zevran reached the corridor that led up to Reyja’s chambers and felt himself relax. The letter that she’d sent him when she first arrived at Vigil’s Keep reporting the assassination attempt on her, again at the hands and blades of Crows, had sent him into a near-frantic worry, desperate to find and destroy those responsible though she had assured him that no lasting harm had been done. That he wasn’t there… Even now, years later, walking through that entrance hall still made him bristle. Reyja was a competent and capable warrior, more than worthy of being named Warden-Commander. She was the Hero of Ferelden, the Warden who ended the Fifth Blight, the only slayer of an archdemon who survived to tell her tale, after all. But she was his. Before anything else, she was Reyja, and she was his.

The day had already taken a toll on Anya before she even got out of
bed that morning, having had very little sleep in the first place, but
on top of that she knew she had to go look into the situation
regarding the rebuilding of some of Amaranthine’s older buildings and
she had to talk to someone who requested the right to venture into the
Blackmarsh and possibly build a home there, though why anyone would
want to live there, even if it was starting to revert back into a
normal, not as eerie swamp, was a question she didn’t know the answer
to yet.

Upon walking into the kitchens she saw that every one of her recruits
were already up and eating breakfast, “Good morning boys, who wants to
visit Amaranthine with me today?” she asked the group of wardens that
were gathered around the table stuffing their faces.

“You know no one wants to, not after the week we have had.” Anders
joked before taking a drink of whatever he had in his cup.

“Funny, Anders.” she chuckled, “All I have to do is survey some
buildings, and talk to the man who wants to live in the swamp, I just
figured some of you might like a day to relax.” she told the group,
“Nate, maybe you could go visit your sister, introduce her to
Velanna.” she suggested, “Sig, perhaps you could help me try talking
that crazy man out of building in the Blackmarsh,” she added.

A few noises of agreement came from around the table, “Mind if I come
too, I gotta find something to apologize to the ball and chain with so
she doesn’t stay mad at me.” Oghren asked between bites of food.

“Sure, but what are you apologizing for now?” Anya asked as she
prepared herself a cup of tea.

Oghren grunted, “Don’t want to talk about it if you don’t mind,
Commander.” he said, to which she nodded a reply in understanding.

***

Later that night, shortly after sunset, Anya returned to Vigils keep
utterly exhausted with the others who had accompanied her that day,
Velanna was lingering at Nathaniel’s side, Oghren talking tiredly with
Anders, even Sigrun’s excitable banter was slowly turning into hidden
yawns behind her gauntlets.

“Get to bed guys, tomorrow I think my brother will be sending word
about how the repairs are going in Highever, so no Warden business to
my knowledge,” she told them as they walked up the steps to the keep.

After asking if any letters had come for her, she headed to bed
herself, wondering why she had yet to receive a letter from Zevran, of
course, he was a bit busy, but still, the fact that he hadn’t written
to her in over a month was starting to worry her, usually she would at
least hear word from him once every two weeks or so, but the fact that
she hadn’t gotten a letter in so long was filling her with dread while
she wondered what could have happened to her husband.

The worry she was experiencing was making her think the worst, but she
decided to just think about it later, as he told her many times, ‘No
need to worry so much’ even though it was one of the things that
Zevran loved most about her, even back during the Blight, every time
he would even get slightly injured, she would fuss over him, and still
yet every time he wrote about getting injured, she would write a reply
reminding him to be more careful and to take care of himself.

By the time she made it to the keep’s living quarters, it seemed like
everyone else had already made their way to their rooms or were
getting ready for bed from the sound of armor and weapons being put
away echoing throughout the halls.

“Good night Anya.” Nathaniel’s voice interrupted her thoughts, She turned around just in time to see Nathaniel walking up to his
room’s door, “Good night Nate.” she told him softly before heading
back the way she was going.

“I’m sure he’s just busy,” he said before she got too far away from him.

Anya glanced at him over her shoulder and nodded, “Thank you, and I
hope you’re right.” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

In her room, she had already started to remove the weapons from her
boots when she noticed the window was slightly ajar, certainly not how
she had left it that morning.

Knowing it was likely that someone was in her room, but not knowing
for sure where they could be, she just continued on with her nightly
routine, just paying more attention to her surroundings than usual.

Moving about the room swiftly, always staying within arms reach of
something she could easily use as a weapon, she took off her boots,
then her armor, but still yet no one made themselves known.

Making herself more vulnerable, she started to take off the tunic she
always wore under her armor, swiftly but not enough to alarm anyone
that might be watching that she was hurrying because she sensed their
presence.

Not a sound until after she had already gotten out of her breeches and
breastband, but when she heard it she defended herself against her
would-be attacker.

With the speed of a cat chasing its prey, she impacted with the
cloaked stranger in her room, sending them both down on the desk
beside her bed with a deafening crash, the weight of the two causing
it to splinter, break and send them both to the floor.

She was straddling him with a dagger to his neck when he started to
laugh, “Now this brings back good memories.” his Antivan accent said
sweetly, “But you do know that if you wanted to be on top, all you had
to do is ask.” he joked.

“Zevran, you foolish man.” she scolded, still holding the dagger
dangerously close to him, “I could’ve hurt you,” she told him.

Her door swept open promptly and there stood several of her recruits
in various degrees of undress, “What hap- oh, woah!” Anders started to
ask but seen more of the commander than he ever planned on seeing so
he quickly averted his gaze.

Zevran looked at the man out of the corner of his eye and seen he was
naked so he decided to make a joke, “Ah, a handsome mage, he wields a
long staff and look he even has one he uses for magic.” he told Anya,
but she didn’t laugh, she just stared at him with a blank expression
while Anders quickly grabbed a pillow to cover himself.

“I brought you a gift,” he said as he raised his hand up beside her
face and let a shiny silver bracelet dangle from his finger, she
didn’t move her face, but did look out of the corner of her eye at it
before twirling her dagger around her hand and promptly embedding it
into the broken remains of her desk right beside him.

Smiling subtly at him, winking before turning to the small crowd in
her room and clearing her throat. “Don’t worry, I have him handled, you can all go back to bed,” she
told them without moving from her spot on top of him, seemingly
unphased by her current state of undress, nor her recruits’ and their
varying degrees of lack of clothing.

As they all left the room you could hear Anders running back to his
room to save what little dignity he had retained, and you could hear
Oghren grumbling about pesky assassins always creeping around scaring
people.

“You know you don’t have to spoil me by buying me shiny things,
right?” she asked him while still straddling his lap.

“Good thing I didn’t buy this particular gift, someone else did, I
just happened to liberate it from them upon their untimely death,” he
explained as he hooked it around her wrist.

A smile crept onto her face as he spoke, “You’re such a romantic.” she
giggled before pushing the hood of his cloak away from his face and
kissing him deeply.

When she pulled away he rested his hands on her hips, “I did enjoy the
show you put on while undressing just so you know.” he told her.

“You say that every time I get undressed.” she laughed.

He smirked, “Because every time you get undressed, no matter what
you’re wearing, it’s like watching a sexy goddess peel off a confining
leather corset, absolutely arousing.” he said.

“I bet,” she started, “So, why the gift, and why the surprise visit?”
she asked him before standing up and stepping away from the wooden
remains of her writing desk.

“Surely you have not already forgotten when Alistair married us two
years ago on this exact day?” She shook her head, “Of course not, but I thought we weren’t a
traditional couple.” she told him while she admired the silver
bracelet on her wrist as moonlight glittered off of it and the several
small silver feather pendant charms that hung from it.

“Far from it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t spoil you when I have a
very good reason to, especially after being away from you for well
over a year,” he said as he stood up and walked up behind her.

The boat the couple was on had just arrived at the docks mere moments before the sun started to set on the ever beautiful, Antiva City revealing the astounding and absolutely breathtaking view of the entire city as receding rays of sunlight lit the cobblestone streets.

Antiva’s beauty had obviously caught Anya off guard and Zevran immediately noticed because upon stepping onto the dock she trailed off in the middle of a story she was telling him about a mage named Finn she had met during her mission to find Morrigan not long beforehand.

A laugh escaped Zevran’s mouth when he looked down at the woman just to see her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide as she looked around with an expression of pure excitement, “What do you think, Mi Amor?” he asked as he grabbed ahold of her hand and brought it to his lips to kiss.

“I think I understand why you’re such a romantic now.” she giggled.

“Ah, you think Antiva is a place of romance straight out of a dirty novel?” he jokingly asked, receiving only a giggle in reply before she leaned up to kiss his cheek.

The two walked along the streets peacefully hand in hand toward the inn they were to stay at during their time in Antiva, each of them sporting a happy smile, Anya’s smile was because she was with the elf she had fallen so far in love with just years prior, Zevran’s smile, on the other hand, was because he was with his wife and she was happy.

As they neared the door of the inn, a man’s voice called “Arainai!” from behind them, causing Anya to immediately reach for the dagger she had hidden in a sheath just under the neckline of her dress but was promptly stopped by Zevran’s hand sliding up to lightly grip her wrist as he turned to whisper in her ear.

“No need to defend my honor, Anya,” Zevran told her before letting go of her wrist and turning towards the man who had just called out to him.

“I don’t go by that name anymore, my friend,” he said kindly to a lanky man as he walked towards the couple.

“If I don’t like him then he’s getting stabbed,” Anya warned Zevran before turning around to face the stranger too with a kind but obviously fake smile.

The man surveyed Anya’s posture and expression carefully before turning his attention to Zevran, “Right, mind if we talk business?” he asked, “Alone, maybe without the skirt.” he added.

The man didn’t notice the fact that Anya had just started to reach for her dagger again but was only stopped by Zevran grabbing hold of her hand and tugging her toward him, “Of course.” Zevran agreed before turning to Anya and smiling at her sweetly, “I’m sure our things have already been brought to our room, go make yourself comfortable, and I will be there shortly, I have to speak to Carlos about my papers.” he told her before kissing the back of her hand.

“It is quite a bit warmer than I’m used to here, so I suppose I will turn in for the night,” she said with a genuine smile to her husband, then she sent a murderous glare to the man named Carlos before turning away and heading inside.

“That one’s mighty fine, where’d you get the funds to hire her at?” the man asked Zevran.

Within a mere second, Zevran had a dagger in hand and was pointing it at the man, “That is my wife you’re insinuating that about, be very careful with what you say next.” he warned.

“Yea, that’s your wife, just like you really helped fight the blight, befriended a Qunari, met the so-called ‘Witch of the wilds’ then slept with a noble, and got married by the king of Ferelden to the Hero of Ferelden of all things.” Carlos laughed.

“That is my wife,” Zevran said as he pointed toward the door Anya had just disappeared into, “A noble from Highever, the Hero of Ferelden, with whom I helped fight the blight alongside a Qunari agent, the witch of the wilds and the bastard prince of Ferelden before he was put on the throne, where Lady Anya Cousland asked him to wed the two of us.” Zevran made his point clear before repositioning his hand on the handle of his dagger and moving it a bit closer to Carlos, “Any more questions?” he asked.

“Wait, you were serious about all of that, and she even let you take the last name Cousland?” Carlos exclaimed, “What does her family think of all of that?” he asked.

Zevran chuckled before putting his dagger back into its sheath on his hip, “Zevran Cousland, at your service.” he announced with a flourish, “And it was I who asked for and got her brother’s permission for her hand, the only other living Cousland, not counting me now of course.” he explained.

“I figured you just chose a random name to use on your papers to get back here to Antiva without the Crows noticing you.”

***

Meanwhile, inside the inn, They had already had the trunk holding their armor, spare weapons and extra clothes taken up the stairs to the room they were given and after making sure of that, she had made her way back downstairs with their room key in her palm.

“You, what’s your name?” Anya asked a young boy who seemed to be running around cleaning up what appeared to be broken furniture from a recent bar fight.

At first, the boy just stared at her with an open mouth, probably because of her eyes being different colors, something extremely rare to see, but after a bit, he spoke again, “Parker, Ma’am, my name’s Parker.” he said nervously with an odd head nod like greeting.

“Well, Parker, there will be a handsome blond elf coming in soon, do you think you could give him something for me?” she asked, to which she just received a nod in reply, “Give him the key to my room when he comes in,” she instructed as she gave him the key she held in her hand.

“Yes, Ma’am.” he said before attempting to run off, only to be stopped by Anya reaching out and grabbing his empty hand firmly and placing two silver coins in it, “No, Ma’am, I can’t take this,” he told her before trying to give her the coins back.

She just closed his hand around the two coins and shoved his hand back toward him before smiling at him, “For your troubles, and maybe for a new pair of shoes that fit better.” she offered.

***

Zevran had lost track of how long he spoke with Carlos, answering questions about Ferelden and his time there, but it was well late into the night when he finally made his way into the inn.

As soon as he stepped through the door he was quickly greeted by the young boy Anya had given the room key to, “Are you the elf the lady with the two different colored eyes wanted me to give something to?” he asked immediately.

“More than likely, yes,” he told the boy before being handed the key to their room.

The boy tried to hurry off but Zevran stepped in his way stopping him as he pulled two silver coins from the pouch on his hip, “For your service.” he said when he held the coins out to the boy.

“Oh, no sir, I can’t take those.” he insisted, “The lady already paid me is what I mean.” he corrected, but of course Zevran wouldn’t take no for an answer and talked the boy into taking the coins anyway.

Zevran finally made his way upstairs toward the room they had been given after he had a quick chat with the innkeeper about any gossip she may have heard about the crows and any of their nearby business dealings.

Careful not to make much noise, just in case Anya was already asleep, he unlocked the door slowly and opened it to find the candle beside the bed already being long since extinguished.

The only light in the room was moonlight shining through the window and the faint torchlight shining in from the hall, but with that little bit of light, he could see Anya laying on the very edge of the bed.

He tried not to laugh, he really did, but she was adorable to see in such a state, a hand tangled in her coal black hair which was an utter mess because of the humidity, a knee brought up almost to her chest but hanging over the edge of the bed, one leg straight, with only her foot covered up, and with one arm hanging entirely off the bed, though that was probably because of her daggers hanging on the nightstand more than a sleep induced situation, and to top it all off, she had apparently gotten too warm and took off not only her dress but also her breastband, leaving her in nothing but her small bottoms.

Shutting the door quietly, trying not to wake his wife, he attempted to walk toward the unoccupied side of the bed but his plan failed just as he took his third step which caused a floorboard to creak, which caused Anya to bolt up straight in bed, somehow she had grabbed her daggers before even opening her eyes.

“Shh, it’s just me, Amor.” he soothed before she could get out of bed, causing her to lower her daggers and breathe a sigh of relief, “You startled me,” she mumbled in her sleep ridden state before she put her weapons away.

“I see you got comfortable.” he joked as he started to take off his armor, she just hummed an agreement as she flopped back down on the bed, causing her hair to fall in her face.

“Why is Antiva so hot?” she mumbled as she attempted to comb her hair back away from her face.

Zevran smirked as he climbed into bed before answering, “I have an obvious answer, it’s so hot because you are here.” he told her, causing her to smirk.

“I think it’s just because you lived here so long, that you affected the climate.”

“Ah, now that is something I can’t argue with, but maybe it’s a combination of both of those reasons.” he laughed as he pulled her toward him so he could kiss her good night, “Go back to sleep, we have much to do tomorrow,” he said just before Anya curled up beside him and rested her head on his chest.

Rated T for swearing, mentioned but not described nudity, Zev-brand innuendo

A trickle of sweat followed the curve of Reyja’s cheek, bisecting her brand. She felt it drip, rolling down the track left by all the other droplets that had made their way from her thick hair to her neck and lower still, unimpeded by clothing or bedcovers. Her mind melted into simple thoughts, fragments of feelings and phrases dominated by one word: heat.

The peak of the Antivan summer reigned with a molten fist. Seashore breezes did little to sway the sun from baring its teeth, only adding moisture to the stifling air and weighing it down. The first day, Zevran had promised that this spell wouldn’t last long, smiling fondly at his beloved as Reyja shaded her eyes and glared out over the ocean. By the end of the week, though, even he was beginning to fear for her health as the heat sapped more and more of her energy, reducing her to a sluggish mess sprawled in the darkness of their bedroom.

“Mi amora?” Zevran called from the doorway, his voice cutting through the cobwebs of summer haze in Reyja’s mind. She blinked more sweat from her eyes and lifted her head.

“How the fuck did you, or anyone, for that matter, deal with this every year?” She asked flatly, dragging one hand across her forehead only to stop halfway through and grimace in disgust. “I can’t even get it off me, look! My palms are too sweaty to get the sweat off my face. Ugh!”

Zevran chuckled as he crossed the room and sat beside her on the bed. He took her hand, though she tried to pull it away, and wrapped her fingers in the cool rag he’d brought with him. “Ah, my dear, it will get easier every year. And we are no strangers to a little sweat, are we?” He cocked an eyebrow suggestively.

Reyja wrinkled her nose at him. “Sweating’s only fun if you earn it. Just laying here, breathing? That’s not worth the laundry.”

“We could make it worth the laundry, though, could we not?” Zevran slid closer, moving the cloth to the back of her neck to draw her head into his hands. He gazed at her with half-lidded golden eyes, gently scratching at her scalp through her sweat-slick hair.

Reyja’s eyelids fluttered closed in response and she leaned back into his touch. “If you want to stay in here, you can,” she mumbled. “But I don’t have it in me to do anything.” One eye peeked open, catching his gaze. “And no, I didn’t word it that way on purpose.”

He laughed, fully and openly in the way Reyja couldn’t help but be swept up in too. He sat back, letting her short hair slide through his fingers, and slowly wiped down the rest of her pale, bare skin with the rag as their laughter died away into companionable silence. “I will stay with you for a time, mi amora, if you will have me. It is indeed cooler in here than the rest of the house, and even I will admit that this time of year becomes tedious after a while,” he said as he finished and slipped off the bed.

“Tedious? Tedious? I would take boredom over melting out of my skin, Zev.” Reyja scoffed, shifting back to sit upright. “Fuck, I’d even go back to Orzammar if it meant getting away from the sun.”

Zevran tossed the cloth out the door towards the kitchen and glanced back at her, eyebrows arched in surprise. “You would return to the city built over a large pool of lava to escape the heat? I must admit, your logic escapes me.”

“It’s not all over lava! Dust Town always felt like an autumn afternoon, same temperature all the time. It’s like that underground. Nice and cool. Ancestors, I’d kill for that right now. I’m not built for this summery shit.” Reyja tipped her head back against the wall as another drop of sweat made its way down her temple and across her cheek. She sighed in resignation.

The bed dipped as Zevran rejoined her, his hand still blessedly cool from the rag he’d brought as it rested on her thigh. “Perhaps next year, then, we can take this time to travel? I have heard good things about southern Orlais. And there is always Ferelden, if we choose.”

Reyja heard the concern masked by his lighthearted suggestion and frowned, reaching for his hand and intertwining his fingers with her own. “I don’t regret settling here,” she said abruptly.

Zevran startled, both at her tone and her declaration, and opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but Reyja cut him off.

“I mean it. There’s nowhere I’d rather be: with you. We belong here.”

“But Orza—”

“Oh, fuck Orzammar. I said when we left during the Blight I’d never live there again, and I meant that too.” Reyja blushed, pink spreading across her face. “Well… I’m sorry, Zev. You know how I get when I’m— when I don’t want— when I feel gross. This heat and all this sweating and not having the energy to do anything makes me feel so… gross.” She met his gaze and her blush intensified, burning down her neck to her chest. “I don’t want you to think that. I know you don’t. I know!” She broke eye contact and crossed her arms over her bare chest, leaving Zevran’s hand behind. “I just get snippy. And I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.”

“You do not have to apologize, amora,” Zevran said softly. He stopped himself from reaching for her hand again by tracing circles over the jut of her ankle; she would uncover herself when she was ready. “I understand. I…” He paused, searching for words. “I know I do not need to say this, but I feel I should anyway: there is nowhere I would rather be than with you, either. Antivan summer or Fereldan winter or any other weather that wishes to kill us, I will be beside you through it all and more, my love. My Reyja.”

Reyja’s heart swelled and despite the heat, she threw herself into Zevran’s arms, beaming. “I love you,” she murmured against his ear.

“And I, you.” He pulled her tighter against his chest and held her until she broke away and sat back.

“Oh… I got you wet,” she observed, trying to keep the revulsion out of her voice.

Zevran looked down at himself. His thin white shirt stuck to his skin in several places, dampened by the closeness of their embrace. He shrugged and pulled it off over his head, tossing the shirt aside. “So you did.”

Reyja winced. “Ugh, that’s so gro—”

“Ah, ah.” Zevran shook his head. “No more of that, I think. You said yourself you were not built for these temperatures, so let us not begrudge your body what release it can find from them, yes?”

Reyja grumbled under her breath for a moment more before acquiescing. “Fine. You’re right.”

“And, indeed, as you also mentioned…” he trailed off, scanning her slowly as he inched closer, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “There is nothing about you I find ‘gross,’ my dear. Especially not your sweat, and especially not when it finds its way to me.”

folks said they were interested in another zevwarden week so i decided to host one! if it goes well i might do another one towards the end of the year to do some halloween and christmas stuff. but for this one! heres the rules then the prompts

my ask box is open if anyone has any questions!

rules

fics and art are allowed, you can do both or mix it up

nsfw is allowed but minors PLEASE do not create or interact with nsfw content, youll be blocked

this blog will reblog all fics and art!

i totally understand that people are busy and cant always do each prompt each day, dont worry! you dont actually have to be done in the week! ill probably reblog stuff for another week or two to give people the chance to be involved

do not write or draw anything involving rape/incest/pedophilia/etc. mentions of abuse will be tolerated as long as its not super detailed, since Zev was abused, but like. dont be a nasty freak (also if i find you do that shit i will not reblog your work, in fact i will report and block you <3) 

post entries in the tag zevwarden week to have them reblogged here! you can also tag me if you want

prompts

day 1: April 14th: climate change how is Zevran adapting to the gloomy Fereldon weather? does your Warden help keep him warm? or how is your warden faring in Antiva? how do they beat the heat? write or draw one of the two reacting to the weather in the others homeland!

day 2: April 15th: wardens gift the warden is always giving their companions lots of thoughtful gifts, its time for Zev to return the favor! what kind of gift does he give your warden? how do they react?

day 3: April 16th: parents Zev mentions that he wouldnt mind being a parent, so heres a chance to indulge in that! how are Zev and your warden as parents? the child can be blood related, adopted, or even just a kid theyre helping find their actual parents. i recommend ages infant to young teen for optimal fluff

day 4: April 17th: magic mishap uh oh! somehow a spell has gone awry, casted by either Wynne, Morrigan, a mage warden, or an enemy mage. but now either Zev or your warden is facing the consequences! the spell can be anything you want- maybe one turned into an animal, perhaps one has been reverted to a younger age, its up to you!

day 5: April 18th: role reversal Zevran is now the gray warden and your warden is just a companion. did Duncan offer an escape from the Crows via becoming a gray warden? was your warden hired to kill him or did they join in a way related to their now slightly different backstory? write or draw any scene in this drastic alternate universe!

day 6: April 19th: masquerade Zevran and your Warden are at a masquerade ball! is it for a coronation? an assassination? is your warden good at dancing? what are they wearing and how do they react to each other all dressed up?