#zevlian

[snarky-bee]

Zevwarden Week Day 1: Culture Shock “I never thought I would miss the endless sea of grey skies as much as I do right now,” Zevran said, staring ahead into a pool of lava. Kallian’s face was ashen, she took deep gasping breaths hoping to hold onto her stomach’s contents. With hands braced on the railing of the fence she closed her eyes and hung her head. “Need… fresh air.” “Well I suppose we could always walk all the way back down those many stairs, and then through the long corridor and up the stairs to make it out of Orzammar. If you are feeling up to it.” She couldn’t see his face but she could tell he sported a shit-eating grin from the way he said the words. Her stomach rolled and she swallowed roughly. Then forced herself to turn and look at him. “Fuck off,” she rasped. He laughed, throwing his head back enough that the orange glow of lava reflected like a sunset on his golden hair. “How come you’re not as sick as I am? You had the same ale,” she accused. “Because, my dear warden, I stopped drinking much earlier while you insisted on playing that drinking game you were doomed to lose. One of us has to be sober enough to watch out for the assassins that apparently run all over these streets.” Feeling like her stomach had stopped churning, Kallian turned around and slid down the fence until she was sitting on the ground. “You should feel right at home then.” “Funny you should say that,” Zevran said, joining her in sitting, “I had thought Ferelden was the strangest land I encountered. But Orzammar is both very similar to and very different from Antiva. For one, I am not used to being so tall.” Kallian snorted a small laugh, and allowed herself to lean on Zev’s shoulder. “I miss the sky too,” she said softly. “I can’t ever tell what time it is. And the fucking rivers are made of lava.” “It is funny that. I keep thinking, ah yes it must be the middle of the night. And then I look up and see nothing but stone!” He shook his head. “I rather thought I would never miss camping but now, here I am, in a proper city, and I find myself missing the night sky.” “And I’m gonna-” Kallian abruptly stumbled trying to get up. What she managed was to crawl a couple paces away and found a random pot to throw up in. With sweat dotting her forehead she sat back against the wall. “I swear… I can hold my liquor… normally.” “Dwarven ale does not even taste good enough to be worth drinking so much to get this sick. At least if you come to Antiva I can show you the kind of wine her vineyards produce, with grapes so sweet.” “You want me to come to Antiva?” Kallian latched onto that one sentence. “When this is all… over.” Zevran caught her eyes, this time looking strangely shy for someone normally so boisterous. “I suppose, ye, I do want that. If you are of a mind. I think you would greatly enjoy the views of sunsets on the rooftop.”

[snarky-bee]

Dreams

Zevran was on watch. His back was silhouetted against the low burn of flames. He faced outward into the dark, with an ankle crossed underneath one leg. The stir of bushes and trees rustling in the wind and the occasional pop of wood crackling were the only sounds. It was late. The moon was a mere haze of white light obscured by clouds; a chill hung in the air.

Kallian wrapped her arms around herself, pulling the blanket tightly to her shoulders while a gust of wind tried to strip it from her.

Her footsteps rustled grass and crunchy leaves. She watched Zev’s ears twitch briefly but he didn’t turn. She plopped down on her knees behind him and wrapped her arms, blanket and all, around his shoulders. Her cheek pressed to his shoulder blade. He was warm from the fire.

“Up before dawn?” Zevran murmured. She could feel the rumble of his voice in her chest. It comforted her. “I heard you tossing back and forth.”

She was still groggy, but falling back asleep on her own sounded worse than seeking Zev out even in the cool autumn air. “Darkspawn shit,” she said by way of answer.

It was getting worse. Alistair had said it was worse for those who joined during a Blight, but for the first few months, she had dreams maybe once a week and always fell back asleep right away. Now it was strange if she went a night without the archdemon invading her mind. 

She sighed and nuzzled her nose into Zev’s neck. Blond hairs tickled her face as the wind teased his loose hair. 

“You should go back to sleep, my warden,” he soothed. His hand fell on hers, rubbed the stretch of skin between thumb and pointer finger. He chuckled lightly and scoffed. “What a fool I am. Suffering here under this Fereldan cold and sending you and your warmth away from me.”

That dragged a smile from Kallian and she squeezed him tighter. “Only you would complain when you’re sitting next to the fire.”

“The fire is nothing compared to your body, mi amor,” he sighed dramatically. “While in your presence, the fire is mere sparks but you are the warmth of the sun.”

Her face warmed up. Pure flattery. She laughed it away nervously. “You’re so dramatic, Zev. It’s barely even dipped into fall. Wait til fucking winter comes. The very idea of undressing will make your balls shrink,” she cackled.

“What an appealing image,” he said with a frown clear in his voice. “Makes me want to escape to Antiva before it is too late. You are welcome to tag along of course.”

A heavy silence settled over them.

Neither could escape to anywhere. The Blight was in Ferelden. The Crows were in Antiva. 

“I hate being a fucking warden,” she mumbled.

“If you were not a Grey Warden, what would you do? Who would you be?” Zevran asked suddenly.

What would she do? “I was a thief before so… that?”

“As you have said. I imagine if circumstances were different, you would choose a different life, no? Or have you always aspired to pick unsuspecting patrons’ pockets?”

“When I was little I used to say dumb shit like I wanted to be a ship captain. Me, an elf, captain of a ship - or a pirate.”

Zevran cackled. “I have a certain fondness for pirates. Were I to meet you at a port I have no doubt we would have an exciting tryst. Imagine you and I, a dark tavern on the ports of Antiva city, mm? Wine flowing, shared looks across the room. I offer to buy you a drink, you flirt a little, I flirt back. One thing leads to another and your legs are wrapped around my hips as we tangle in the sheets.”

Kallian sucked in a deep breath. She could almost imagine it. Sea air, a sexy stranger in the dark with a handsome smile… 

“And you wouldn’t even have to try to kill me first.”

Zevran chuckled again. “True at that. I imagine getting you into bed would have taken far less effort on my part.”

“Hey!” Kallian flicked his chin. “I’m not that easy.”

He grabbed her wrist and nibbled on her finger with a playful bite. “Perhaps not, but I am incredibly handsome and charming. If we were strangers meeting for the first time?”

She bumped her forehead softly against him. “Fine, maybe if we were strangers looking for a spot of fun, yeah. And what are you in this then? Still an assassin? What did you dream of becoming when you were a kid?” 

“Like all Antivans, I dreamed of becoming a wealthy merchant. I imagined myself in a palace draped in gold, the finest silks and richest of brandy. I would want for nothing and have everything I ever desired.”

“Antivans aren’t the only ones who want nice things.” Kallian sighed a little wistfully. “I never kept any of the shit I stole. Someone would notice if I suddenly had a fancy necklace worth more than a year’s pay. An elf with pretty jewelry can only be two things: a thief, or a whore,” Kallian scowled.

“Ah, I know too well how it feels to not be allowed to keep the things you want. Truthfully, I once ran away to join the Dalish,” Zev said, uncharacteristically muted. “I told you before, that my mother was Dalish?”

Kallian nodded.

“I had nothing but a pair of gloves from her. I made up stories in my head as a child, of what she was like, of what my life could be if I were one of the feared Dalish hunters. Being the son of a Dalish whore made me special, or so I believed. It was a point of fascination for many years.”

“Did you find a clan?”

Zevran stared out into the moonless sky. “I did. When a clan came near Antiva city, I approached them. But as you can imagine, fantasy never quite matches up with reality. I did not fit in. I was too Antivan, you might say. Life in the woods, hunting for your next meal, I was poorly suited to it.”

“So… you left? Wasn’t it better than the Crows at least?”

Zevran chuckled wryly. “I came back with my tail between my legs like a properly chastised street dog. They had me convinced of course, after thorough punishment for my disloyalty, that my talents were best used for the Antivan Crows. Perhaps they were right… The gloves were missing from my belongings not too much later, but these were never lives meant for you and I, were they? It is best to accept my place and move on.”

Kallian felt a rush of affection towards him. A longing to protect Zev from more hurt. “I’m sorry they stole your gloves. I have so much from my mother: her boots, passed down clothes, but the one thing I wish we had was her dagger. It was passed down from her side of the family. Someone must have taken it when she was killed… It had an engraving in elvhen that means ‘Fang’ or so she said.”

“Like your mabari?”

“It’s a fitting name for a warhound, I thought,” Kallian pouted.

“Mmm, indeed.” 

Another pensive silence passed, his thumbs stroked the backs of her hands. “I suppose it does no good to dwell on dreams and wishes that may never come true now. People like you and I are not the product of happy lives of contentment, after all.”

Sorrow pierced her chest. Once she had been happy, happy enough at least for her lot in life. “I never really wondered what I might actually want when we’re all more worried about having a job at all. I fucking wish I knew what I wanted to do. I still don’t and I’m already roped into this whole warden for life deal.”

She hadn’t noticed her hands clenched into fists until Zevran was prying them off his shirt. 

“Being a warden is not what you hoped it would be?”

“I…” Kallian didn’t know how to answer that. “It’s not like it’s bad. Freedom, doing good, saving the world, right?”

Zevran’s shoulders shrugged and then he twisted in his spot, tugged Kallian to his side so he could look in her eyes. His thumb brushed against the skin beneath her eyes. She had bags and the beginnings of dark circles, she knew. She longed for his touch to linger on her skin. Her eyes closed, she leaned closer to him and sighed.

“The lack of sleep, constant darkspawn fighting, and I hear the severance package is utterly terrible,” Zevran teased knowingly. 

“Mmm,” Kallian agreed. Flashes of her dreams played in her mind’s eye - so much screeching, an endless marching and a black void. “I’m so tired.” She could hear it even in her voice, like her throat was parched of water.

“I will wake Wynne early,” Zev said abruptly, “Let us catch more sleep before the sun forces us to rise again.” 

[snarky-bee]

Curious

AO3 Link

*****

Kallian reunited with Zevran after another dueling lesson with Isabela.

He greeted her with open arms, “Ah my warden, it seems Isabela has not swept you away from us yet,” he joked.

“Mmm,” she responded noncommittally, stripping off her leathers to sit by the fire.

Pensive and quiet, Zevran let her have the moment to herself, and simply sat by her side. Kallian wanted him near her, but also needed to be alone with her thoughts. Guilt was nagging at her for some reason. Was it wrong to want to learn from Isabela? Except, her subconscious provided the answer, she wanted more than to learn, and even as she thought the words, Kallian shook her head.

There was no question Isabela was attractive, and there was nothing wrong with liking the attention. Isabela had a dangerous allure, soft and all curves, but wicked with a blade. She loved to make Kallian blush, as she had discovered, by describing all the naughty things she enjoyed in the bedroom, and if Kallian was honest with herself, it only made her more curious.

If she was honest with herself, having Isabela’s arm around her made Kallian want to press more of herself against that curvaceous body. If she was honest with herself, she grew a little excited when Isabela’s suggestive comments turned towards her. Were they actual feelings though? She simply felt differently towards the pirate, perhaps it was just the kinship that sparked up between them so naturally.

“You look like you are thinking yourself into the ground, my dear warden,” Zevran broke the silence and she finally turned to see his watchful eyes trained on her.

Sometimes Zevran had this ability to read the exact moment she needed to be snapped out of her thoughts, drawing her back into the present. Her heart pounded, feeling like she needed to express these pent up feelings, but she didn’t know where to start. To admit them was to make them true, a reality. Were they true? Or if they were, what if she never got a chance to act on them, to know they were true?

Zevran opened his legs, inviting her to sit between them as he often did for a brief neck rub or shoulder massage. “Come then, tell me of your troubles and I will ease the knots in your back.”

Kallian grinned nodded, scooting in between his thighs. She sighed into his touch, relaxing more as his hands pressed into sore spots on her back, working the muscles loose. She stayed silent for a time, appreciating that Zevran was never one to push, just as she never pushed him to reveal more than he wanted.

“I think I’m… curious,” Kallian finally spoke softly, glad that in the quiet evening the rest of the party was tending to their own needs, allowing her to speak with Zevran freely.

He continued his thorough massage, laughing lightly, “Curious about what?”

“Um… Isabela?” she posed it as a question, uncertain even of her own curiosity.

“Well there are certainly many questions to have about our favourite pirate, yes? I am certain you are already tired of the stories she has told of me. What is it you want to know? How does one become a pirate? Who wanted her husband dead? Is she really as excellent a lover as she claims?” Zevran teased, falling silent when Kallian stiffened.

“No like… you know. Remember when she said that thing… about going you know… below deck,” Kallian’s face only got hotter the more she tried to explain. 

He let his hands fall to around her waist. “Ah,” he murmured, “Your curiosity is of that nature.”

“Maybe? I don’t know. Nevermind,” she sighed.

Zevran ran a soothing hand up and down Kallian’s leg. “Isabela is a very attractive woman. You would not be the first to get lost in her… eyes,” he smirked.

It took another long pause before Kallian was ready to speak again. Why couldn’t she accept this as easily as he said. Zevran was so matter-of-fact, but it didn’t feel that simple to her.

“But how do I know?” She whispered, throat feeling tight in her sudden distress. “I’m with you. And okay, fine, obviously she’s good looking, like anyone can see that, but that doesn’t mean… I’ve never thought about… a woman like that.”

“My warden, such agonizing over this little thing,” Zevran spoke with a smile in his voice. “What is so wrong if this is true? I have told you that men and women both please me. You, yourself said this is of no matter.”

“But you’ve been with both. I don’t… I don’t know, wouldn't that be like some sort of confirmation? I know I want you, just anything else… it’s weird…” Kallian realized what she had said and immediately corrected herself, “Sorry no, I didn’t mean that, Zev. I mean it’s different.”

“Let us pretend for a moment, that you did not inevitably succumb to the lure of Zevran’s charms,” he continued to speak casually, “If you had never come to my tent, would that mean the attraction was not real?”

“Well no, but I… It feels different.”

Zevran shifted, pulling Kallian’s legs sideways so he could look at her.

“Believe it or not, I understand this.” He smiled, acknowledging her quirk of one eyebrow. “With a man, it may be a burning hunger, fire, skin tingling from a single glance or touch. With a woman, it is hmm... something fierce yet soft, passionate yes, but like water washing over you, until you are drowning in her and only her,” Zevran’s voice turned husky, his grip tightening around Kallian.

Kallian let out a shuddering breath that she didn’t realize she had been holding. Her emotions continued to spin around her. Desire, confusion, guilt.

“What difference does it make anyway? I’m with you. I can’t act on it… I can’t… find out anyway.”

“So there is a part of you that would like to act on this, to embrace the feelings you have?” Zevran surmised. “If the feelings were not real, you would not be sitting here pondering over whether or not you could experiment with them. I think you are more close to your answer than you are willing to admit.”

His insightful answers only served to agonize her more. “Fine, but… it doesn’t change the fact that I want you . What difference would it make being with her, when ultimately…” I want to be with you for as long as I can.

“I am not opposed to you exploring these things, Kallian,” Zevran idly carded his fingers through her now loose hair.

Her mind whirled with the possibilities. If only just to have the experience, to validate her building confusion, affirm to herself if the attraction was legitimate. Yet it was still Zevran she craved. “I don’t know if I could. Wouldn’t you feel… betrayed?” She recalled the conversation about Leliana, as Zevran wondered if he was intruding on something between them, his own words of not being a cheat.

“If I am right, and I think I am, you want to explore these pleasures, and I would be more than happy to assist. Isabela as well. My suggestion, if you will, is that you allow me to join,” Kallian met his eyes, worrying her lip between her teeth, the heat she felt was undeniable. “With me there, you will feel more comfortable, yes? Isabela is skilled in many ways; she would be delighted to have us.”

“Both of us?” she craned her neck to look at him.

“Only if you wish it. I simply want to avoid causing you any more distress than you seem to be in, mi querida. I hold no claim to you; if you wish me to back off in this, I will. But Isabela would be of a mind if you are.”

Kallian imagined, admittedly not for the first time, the soft touch of Isabela, her mouth on her skin, now joined by Zevran purring encouragements in her ear, guiding her in her explorations, his hands on her while she gave in to Isabela’s lavish kisses.

“I think I… fuck.” She took a deep breath, finding it strange to be saying it out loud. “I want that.”

[snarky-bee]

Red Sunrise - Chapter 19: Aftermath

*** For a rare time in her life, Kallian hesitated. She nibbled on her lip, debating if she was just going to be a bother. He probably wanted to sleep even more than she did.

Fuck it. She knocked softly.

A surprised, “Come in?”

When she pushed open the door, Zevran smiled at her. His leathers were already unbuckled and he placed them neatly on the vanity. He inspected his bracers for damage before they too were placed on top of the rest of his armour. Then he sat down on the single bed and looked expectantly up at her.

“Well now, to what do I owe the pleasure at these late hours?”

Kallian winced as he pointed out that it was already far too late.

“Just wanted to check in.”

He raised an eyebrow and looked around the room dramatically. “Seeing as there are no demons or other such monsters around, I imagine you are not checking in purely as a safety precaution. Perhaps, like myself, you are noticing the luxury that beds can afford and all the many ways one can enjoy them.”

“Ah… no.” Kallian wilted a bit under his intense gaze. She was invading his privacy by asking. “It’s only that…” she huffed and sat on the second bed beside him, looking at the floor. “The sloth demon thing was intense, you know?” She raised her eyes slowly, studying him.

Zevran didn’t react. His face remained a mask of serenity as he shrugged, “I wonder, if I may, whether you are checking in with all of our dear companions that were stuck in the Fade?”

Kallian pressed her lips together before answering. She and Zev both knew why she was singling him out specifically. “Well I-,” she stopped and played with her fingers, intertwining them. “I guess after what I saw, I’m not sure I can go to sleep right now. Don’t want to.”

“Was your dream so terrible?”

“No, well yes, but no. I’m not making sense,” Kallian chuckled wearily. “S’like it reminded me what I missed. Being at home, with my mum there. It was terrible because I still wish it was real. Makes waking up hurt even more,” her voice went rough and she coughed.  

He sighed wistfully and leaned back on the bed, crossing hands behind his head. “Now that is something I find myself quite familiar with these days. The heat of the sun, the smell of fish, the wine.” Zevran looked at her. “But for all my complaining, you have not mentioned so much of your home. I find myself… curious.” *** Continue reading on AO3: Chapter 1||Chapter 19

[snarky-bee]

ZevWarden Week Day 1

Eye of the Beholder: Admiration

***

The warden surprised him. Not all at once, but with things she did or said. Every time it happened he found himself smiling, whatever the reason. When foul language dropped from her lips in a tirade about getting woken up early, he chuckled. When she told stories about the alienage that got everyone laughing by the end of it, he felt warmth. And when she wiped blood spatter from her face, wickedness in her eyes as she conquered her foes, he wanted to stand at her side.

Kallian.

Her name tasted better on the lips than whispered in his head.

Zevran hadn’t expected to wake up next to the warden. Certainly he’d hoped their flirting would turn to something more. He took great delight in making her cheeks go red while she returned his flirtations back. Yes, he’d verr much hoped that jokes about bed warming would become real offers to tangle in the sheets.

But here he was, the morning after which there were no tangling sheets to be had. This is what he never saw coming.

He wished he’d seen the rather pointy knee coming his way. That was also new. For all the things he admired about the warden, he was less a fan of her ability to bruise in her sleep. A knife in the back would be almost predictable to an assassin like him, but a knee in the back while soundly sleeping in the safety of their camp was just annoying.

She sprawled. Kallian was sound asleep with one arm stretched to the corner of her tent, a knee up, other leg stretched down, and her other arm close to giving him a mean uppercut if she decided to stretch yet again.

And he didn’t want to leave. Lips that turned so often into a sly smirk were softly parted, air whistling as she took long slow breaths. Her long eyelashes brushed her soft cheeks and strands of blonde hair fluttered with every breath.

Not for the first time he had to reach out, to gently tuck the stray hairs behind her finely pointed ear, just to have an excuse to brush his fingers across her skin. That was the first surprise: the innocence in her face, big brown eyes that said she would never harm a fly, the soft rounded cheeks when she smiled. He never expected the warden to look so young. To be so young. Not that he was an old man - as he kept reminding her whenever she poked fun.

A draft of freezing cold air rushed into the tent. It had gotten abruptly cold in the night. Fang, at their feet, stirred and huffed.

“Me too, my friend,” Zevran whispered to the Mabari.

His gaze wandered from Kallian’s face down to her collarbone, marked with purpling reminders of his nibbling. He grinned and brushed his fingers across the skin. She barely stirred at his touch. The wind blew again and he was struck with a desire to bury himself against her warmth. And why deny himself that simple pleasure?

He skirted his hand along her bare abdomen and wrapped himself around her. His personal sun.

“Mmmm,” she mumbled, a soft huff of breath.

Why did that quiet sound make his heart squeeze and ache? In spite of himself he smiled again, curled around her, tucking her limbs back in so he could pull her tight. He was so close their foreheads touched. Close enough to see every individual blonde eyelash, the curve of her upper lip, the pink scar through her eyebrow the only clue that she was more than this sweet innocent girl. So much more.

The wind whistled and Fang growled at it. But here, Zevran was warm. He pressed his lips to her forehead and stayed close, content to stare.

Kallian’s eyes fluttered open, sleepy and warm brown like melted chocolate. “Wha’re you lookin’ at?” she murmured, eyes already falling closed as she said it.

“Admiring the view, of course,” he whispered.

Everything about her was warm, inviting him in, her touch was sun on his skin as she wordlessly tucked herself under his chin, breath soft on his bare chest. A moment in the sun before the world called its Grey Warden back to it.

[snarky-bee]

ZevWarden Week Day 2

La Petite Mort: Death

@zevraholics ***

Zevran woke with a start. He looked around the empty room for whatever caused his sudden sleep disruption. Not a sight nor sound. Not even his warden in bed. His warden, who was a sounder sleeper than himself and rarely stirred beyond darkspawn dreams. Where was she? Heaviness settled on his chest, and he felt he could hardly breathe.

There was a battle to fight tomorrow.

Quickly Zevran pulled on his trousers and shirt, slipped bare feet into boots to wander down the halls of the castle. Before he even got through the door, he realized with a start that her bag was gone. The worn out pack had been propped haphazardly against the wardrobe, he was sure of it. 

Not in the castle then.

Worry squeezed his heart and he strode purposefully down the halls. Familiar, yet different. Something unsettling crept up his spine but as he tried to hold onto the thought, it slipped through his fingers like smoke.

So lost in his head, he abruptly looked up before running nearly headlong into-

“Alistair!” Zevran exclaimed in relief. “By the Maker, I was beginning to feel like I had lost my head. Have you seen the warden, perchance?” Surely if the other warden was wandering at this hour he would have seen where she went.

Alistair frowned in confusion. He hesitated, waited a beat before speaking slowly. “You mean… are you talking about Kallian?”

“Yes, of course I mean Kallian,” Zevran snapped back. “You know, small in stature, blonde hair, impish grin? That Kallian?” he continued on, sarcastically.

“Zev,” Alistair’s voice cracked, and his face fell. “Don’t you- you remember,  right?” his voice dropped to a near whisper.

Only the steel cage of his ribs kept his heart from totally bursting out of his own chest. His next breath hurt. And the one after. “What are you talking about.”

“Kallian’s gone, Zev. She died in the battle. It’s been months.”

Zevran’s head spun and he clutched his chest over his heart. This wasn’t right. Wasn’t possible. He remembered… he remembered… But he couldn’t recall the end of the battle. The end of the Blight even. Surely it hadn’t happened yet!

“The Blight,” Zevran said urgently, gripping Alistair by the upper arms. “What about the Blight?”

“Zev… you’re scaring me,” Alistair said in alarm. “If this is some kind of sick joke, I-”

“It is no joke. Tell me.”

“She’s the one who fought the archdemon - and died so we could win.” Alistair carefully pulled Zevran’s hands off of himself. “You were there, Zevran. You went to her… funeral,” he whispered the last word.

Funeral. No. Not dead. Not after he’d just found her. They didn’t get enough time.

“Zev?” Alistair placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. 

His breathing spiked into a frenzy, like he couldn’t get enough air. Like someone was sitting on him and crushing his lungs. It hurt. 

“But she’s… I didn’t get a chance.” 

His heart thudded in his ears and he reached for the cold stone of the wall, pressed his back against it, focused on the sharp edges that dug into his spine and scraped at his shirt. It was too real. The grit of carved stone against his palm was as real as the woven carpet beneath his feet. He sank to the floor.

Alistair followed. “This is the second time this has happened. I know you didn’t take it well, none of us did… But I’m worried.”

“I-it just doesn’t feel real. I remember - I held her in my arms just last-” he shook his head. It wasn’t last night. It just wasn’t. But he remembered the curve of her body against him, her radiating warmth and the softness of her hips and thighs. Her muted snoring in the depth of sleep that he could recall from memory in a heartbeat. 

“We were-” Zevran couldn’t say it. He choked down the words - to be married. An entire future laid out before him, and in every step was Kallian and her brilliant smile and sweet giggle that made his heart soar. His sun.

Pain finally registered to him as he realized he was clenching his fists so hard that his nails were digging into his palms. It felt like a dream - a terrible nightmare, really. But he couldn’t seem to wake from this one.

“They’re building a monument to her, you know,” Alistair said quietly. “No one in Ferelden will forget her. At least take comfort that she’s going down in history. The Hero of the Fifth Blight.”

“History never favours elves fondly,” Zevran said bitterly. “You Fereldans can take your history and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. That won’t bring Kallian back. It won’t bring her here. It won’t let me feel her, run my fingers through her hair, and hear her laughter!” 

His throat closed and a choked gasp escaped him. Grief threatened to swallow him all at once in an endless ocean. Rinna. Taliesen. Kallian. One by one he outlived them all. At what point did the Maker stop playing games with him and take his cursed soul already?

“What am I still doing here,” he rasped, throat still raw and choked. His eyes stung and he rubbed the heels of his palms against them until he saw spots of coloured lights in the backs of his eyelids.

“Get up,” Alistair said suddenly. “Get up!” he shouted.

With a jolt, Zevran sat upright, staring into the dark of his room. Sweat drenched his back and stuck his hair to his forehead and neck. 

“Zev!”

Kallian. Wordlessly, he lunged at her, wrapped his arms around her body and squeezed tight, breathed in her scent, felt the warmth of her skin on his. “Mi amor,” he murmured over and over between plastering her shoulder with kisses.

It was a nightmare after all. His worst nightmare. Zevran could breathe again!

“Zev, love, what’s wrong?” she asked, bewildered and still half asleep.

“Nothing, nothing, mi amor,” he whispered and pulled away to look into her eyes - like pools of melted chocolate. 

And in waking, reality sank in. The battle had not yet come. His worst fears may still come true. “Just stay with me,” he breathed almost in prayer. “Just stay with me, Kallian.”

[snarky-bee]

Red Sunrise - Chapter 18: Lost in Dreams ***

Fire crackled warmly as the smell of stewed oxtail filled the house. Kallian stirred the pot, salivating with anticipation for supper.

“You keep leaning over like that and your drool’s gonna be the next ingredient,” her mum teased her, bumping hips with her as she passed by with arms full of clean laundry.

“Home just in time, mum!”

“Adaia, let me help you with that,” Nelaros said graciously.

She smiled at him and dropped the clothes and sheets into a basket, wiping her brow. “No need, I’ll get to the folding later. Supper’s almost ready anyhow.”

Adaia pressed a chaste kiss to Kallian’s temple and hugged her from behind. “Smells good in here.”

True enough, the stew had been simmering long enough for the flavours to blend together nicely. Kallian had taste tested it enough times to be sure. She ladled out bowls and set them down at the table in front of her father, mother and Nelaros. She frowned. “Isn’t Shianni supposed to be home by now?”

Cyrion waved a hand. “I think she was staying late at work tonight, don’t you remember?”

Ah, that was right. Kallian nodded, sitting down as they said a prayer before their meal.

Nelaros smiled and hummed under his breath in appreciation for the food. “Tastes delicious as always, my love,” he gave Kallian’s thigh a squeeze.

“You’d say that even if it was shit though,” she teased back.

“Language at the dinner table, Kallian,” Cyrion scolded.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m bloody married now, so when do you stop telling me what I can or can’t do?”

Adaia smirked, brown eyes sparkling with mirth. “She has a point you know. Our little girl is all grown up.”

He sighed. “I know, I know. Trust me, you’ll understand when you have children of your own, Kallian…” He set his spoon aside and wiped his mouth. “Speaking of… You’ve settled in nicely into your new place by now haven’t you?”

Kallian blushed bright red and looked down at her bowl, stirring the broth. “Andraste’s ass, Da, you really out here asking about grand kids already.”

Nelaros chuckled awkwardly, red rising up in his pale face as he brushed blond hair back from his forehead.

Her stomach turned anxiously. She knew she couldn’t have kids. Abruptly she frowned. That wasn’t right. They hadn’t even started trying. Kallian wasn’t exactly eager to start pushing out babies when they’d only been married for… Months? The wedding had been…

“What’s wrong dear?” her mum smiled at her. “It’s an honest question. You know Cyrion and I can’t wait to have some new little ones in our lives.”

“Right… sure.” Kallian stammered. Something felt wrong… missing. Why couldn’t she remember her own fucking wedding? Shianni . Her heart stung with a pang. There’d been fighting. The Arl. Her head snapped up, looking at Nelaros, as she twisted the ring on her finger. The same ring she’d taken from his corpse. *** Continue reading on AO3: Chapter 1||Chapter 18

[snarky-bee]

ZevWarden Week Day 3

Oh Maker: Faith

***

Before heading back down the winding paths of the mountain road, the warden called for everyone to rest within the town of Haven and they would start the trek in the morning. Some might have found it uncomfortable to take up residence in the homes of the dead, but Zevran wasn’t overly bothered by it. Perhaps he ought to have been. Today more than ever he wondered what things he ought to have been feeling, what was right or wrong, and why that ache had filled him as he watched his warden fall to her knees, tears in her eyes as they reached the fabled urn of sacred ashes.

He felt only confusion. Was he supposed to fall down and sing the chant at the top of his lungs? He had coughed and uttered a snippy response. ‘Nice vase.’ 

Now he waited for his warden to come to bed. A pleasant habit, he fondly called it. Instead she was sitting on the floor staring deep into the flames of the fireplace as if they would answer her questions. It was strange to see her so quiet, distanced from everyone else.

“What is on your mind?” he finally asked, coming to sit next to her.

To his surprise, Kallian dragged in a ragged breath, raw as if she had still been crying. “I never thought it would actually be real,” she whispered.

“We found some dusty ashes in a pot. Who is to say there is anything special or magical about them? If they are even Andraste’s at all,” he replied.

She turned to him, that childlike wide eyed look on her face. “You don’t believe in the prophet?”

It was his turn to stare into the fire. He didn’t like such questions being turned around on him. Not when he had so few answers. “Tch. Of course I believe.”

“Then how can you go through all that and think it’s just some bloody ashes, Zev! I saw-” her mouth clamped shut. She swallowed hard and turned back to the fire. 

She drew her knees to her chest, flames flickering in the warmth of her eyes, seeing something far away. Fiddling with the laces on her shirt she looked up to the ceiling. Liquid rimmed the bottom of her eyes, and guilt wormed its way into his stomach. He wanted to push it away. What did he have to feel guilty for? What did he owe her, or Andraste, or anyone?

“I thought she must have abandoned us. That not even Andraste was looking out for her children.”

“Andraste?” Zevran asked in spite of himself. “Not the Maker?”

She wrinkled her nose and her mouth twisted to one side. “Eh kind of. The Hahren teaches us that Andraste didn’t just hear the Maker. That she spoke for the Maker, or was a physical form of the Maker, sent to save us.”

“The Maker is a woman?” Zevran raised his eyebrows. 

“I dunno. Maybe. Maybe he’s everything. But… point is. Andraste worked miracles. She was supposed to have saved the elves with Shartan. But… I stopped believing she was looking out for any of us. How could Andraste let my mother die? How could she let all these fucking terrible things happen?”

“That is why people like you and I have to learn to look out for ourselves,” Zevran said sagely. “Why depend on prophets and prayers when you can only trust your wit. This world was never made for us.”

Kallian’s shoulders shook. “But it was her. It was my mother there Zev,” she sobbed brokenly. “She- she was there. She was at Andraste’s side!” Kallian exclaimed, pulling an amulet from her shirt.

It wasn’t the strings on her shirt she fiddled with, but a necklace he had never seen her wear before. Bronze in colour, a fine chain with an ovular pendant hanging from it. He frowned and cupped it against his fingers, saw the flames of the Chantry’s symbolism that was so familiar. And on the back: “This says…”

“Yeah.” Kallian clutched it back. “Bare your blade, and raise it high.” More shining tears poured down her face. 

“The Chant?” Zevran frowned. “Surely anyone could-”

“-It was from mum. She used to sing that hymn. I know it was from her, sent by Andraste,” Kallian said vehemently. “She’s waiting for me there… When my time comes.”

Now Zevran understood. They weren’t tears of sorrow, but profound joy. The kind he wished he could feel, the kind he ached for when he ran to the chantry crying to please join as a brother before the Crows pulled him back by his leash. He envied Kallian’s certainty. Faith, as they say. 

They sat in strange silence, the kind he almost feared to break. The flames flickered in the fireplace reminding him of the wall they walked through - licking them with warmth rather than lashing with burning tongues. Flames even he, Zevran Arainai - assassin, whoreson, murderer - had passed through unscathed.

“Perhaps someday I, too, will be forgiven,” he finally gave voice to his unspoken prayer, “and be welcomed by her side…”

Suddenly a smaller hand was in his, as warm and comforting as the flames of the gauntlet. But this warmth was for him alone.

“What could there possibly be to forgive?” Kallian whispered. She tiltined her head to one side to look at him with those startling big brown eyes with droplets of tears still clinging to her eyelashes. 

Zevran froze. His heart nearly stopped. Just a rhetorical question, surely. Waves of grief nearly washed over him until he promptly repressed it all again. The mask slid back into place. His lips turned up in a practiced smile. “Ah my warden, but think of the many sins of the flesh I have committed, and the many more I plan to commit. I am but a man plagued with lust!” He leaned in close to her and put on an exaggerated pout. “Please forgive me, I am utterly terrible.”

Kallian snorted and his shoulders relaxed a little. “Zev,” she said in that same steady, earnest voice, “you are not terrible.” 

He had to look away. She didn’t know everything he had done. Selfishly, he tightened his hand around hers. Her hand was enough for now. 

[snarky-bee]

ZevWarden Week Day 6

Bloodstained Clothes: Injury

***

Their party had only just climbed another set of stairs up to the fourth floor in Kinloch hold when a door flew open at the opposite end of the hall with enough force to nearly knock it off the hinges.

A tall skeleton-like thing floated through the door, eyes glowing red and locked on her. With a wave of its spindly hand, a force lifted her into the air and flung her back into one of the stone columns in the middle of the room. Her elbow cracked against the stone and she fell to the floor with a piercing scream.

Shooting pain radiated up and down from her elbow. Her hand went numb, dagger clattered to the floor. The giant demon thing floated slowly towards her, shadow looming over her curled over form.

She scooted backwards, using her left arm to pull her back across the floor. 

Zevran turned towards her with alarm in his eyes and sprinted at them, sword and dagger drawn in fury as he placed himself between her and the towering demonic entity. It swiped a long clawed hand in Zev’s direction and spewed trails of dark magic towards him, making the assassin flinch and cry out. He recovered quickly and thrust his sword up into the thing just as it dematerialized into smoke, only to appear behind Wynne instead.

“Warden. Are you alright?” he kneeled at her side, reaching towards the arm she clutched against her chest.

“Broken,” she said through gritted teeth. “Help Wynne.”

He nodded once, and cast a worried look at her once before taunting the demon in a loud voice, cackling as he too disappeared in a blast of smoke and reappeared at the demon’s back.

Kallian crawled back behind a toppled desk and finally braced herself to inspect her injury. Sweat prickled on her face as she clenched her jaw and squinted down at her left arm, expecting to see the white of bone popping out. No bone. With trembling fingers she tried to pry off the leather bracer. Just the lightest of tugs to the buckle and she let out a squeak of pain. Bad idea. No touching. 

Sparks flew and the hairs on her arms rose with the crackling of magical energy filling the room. She glanced around the desk. Wynne had the attention of the demon still. Fuck.

She looked down again. Her right arm just kind of looked… wrong. There was a lump where there shouldn’t have been one under her skin and her wrist was limp. She clutched her knife tight in her left hand in case anything came near her. But her palm was sweaty and her hand still shook. It was all she could do to not focus on the throbbing pain in her arm, just tightly clutch her dagger and pray to Andraste that the others could finish off the demon without her help.

Leliana yelped and Kallian ducked around from her ‘hiding’ spot to see the redhead tumble to the ground next to the desk then get yanked towards the demon with an invisible force. 

Alistair charged at the demon from behind and cracked his shield against it, following through with a mighty thrust of his longsword.

Meanwhile Kallian sat there clutching her dagger until her knuckles went white and her nails marked her palms. 

An unearthly shriek pierced her ears and then the room was only filled with the sounds of panted breaths and weapons sliding home in their sheaths.

“Wynne!” she cried out brokenly at last. Her eyes scrunched shut and she tipped her head back against the wall, breath ragged. 

“Kal!” Alistair shouted in alarm, rushing over with Zev close behind.

Zevran reached out for her bracer and she flinched.

“Don’t touch it!” she shouted.

Wynne tutted. “It will need to come off before I can properly heal you.”

Kallian paled and stared up at Wynne with wide eyes. “What do you mean? Just do the bloody magic,” she spat.

“If I go in blind I could just make it worse. A broken bone is no cake walk.” 

She resigned herself to the inevitable. Wynne was gentle but just the jostling of buckles made Kallian’s face twist in pain until tears leaked out the corner of her eyes. “Maker, stop!”

Sharp pain scraped her nerves and she groaned when Wynna got the damn leather bracer off her arm. Faster than Kallian could react. Wynne pressed two fingers to her arm and something snapped. No words came out of her pained shout. Her scream turned into a groan. The groan turned into a whimper of relief when the cold soothing feeling rushed through her skin, then all at once warmed up. 

“Never broken a bone before?” Zevran asked.

Kallian’s eyes fluttered back open to see him smirking at her and she scowled. “No. Not really a fucking habit of mine.” Wynne was going through her pockets and only came up with annoyed sighs. “There’s an infirmary further up the tower. I didn’t get a chance to grab supplies before,” she gestured around them. “You’ll need that arm bandaged and a proper sling.”

“What?” Kallian remarked. “But you healed it.” She flexed her hand a few times, her arm back and forth with twinges of pain as if the muscles were fighting back against her. “It’s fine!” she growled.

“The bone is fragile from new healing. The same as if you had waited the two months for it to heal on its own. If you fight with it, you’ll risk another break.”

“Bloody demons,” Kallian grumbled. 

Alistair and Leliana both had some extra bandages in their supplies so between themselves, Wynne was able to form a tight wrapping around her forearm and up over her shoulder, pinning her right arm tight against her belly. 

“It might be best for you to head back down where the other mages are waiting,” Wynne suggested kindly after helping Kallian sheath her other dagger.

“Funny thing about dual-wielding, I’m actually alright with just one hand too,” she argued.

To make a point, she propped herself back up to standing, wiped her forehead of sweat, and marched ahead through the open door. It was just a matter of not letting any enemies get her from the right side. 

“How are you with a sword?” Zev asked her.

“Not my favourite thing but I’m fine, I guess.”

He undid the belt at his hip, and with it passed over his own longsword. “You should fight with this. It will be easier to block with a longer blade. You are used to blocking with one arm and striking with the other, no? A longsword is better at doing both.”

Her eyebrows went up as he placed the sword in her right hand. “What about you?” Then she snorted. “Let me guess, a few more daggers hidden on your body?”

He grinned. “But of course. What kind of assassin would I be if not?”

“You know this is the second time you’ve had to lend me a weapon already. Starting to feel like you think you have to be my own personal armoury or some shit,” she teased.

He nodded gracefully. “I have sworn an oath to you, have I not? Whether that means ensuring no demon reaches you, or that you have a sharp blade, I am happy to oblige.”

She had thought his whole oath thing was for dramatic flair, but he seemed to have taken it upon himself to be her personal guard. As long as he wasn’t stupid about it, she wasn’t mad about him having her back like that. Kallian would do the same.

“Um… could you,” she gestured to the straps of the belt hanging limply, her left elbow wiggling in uselessly in the makeshift sling.

“Ah, allow me,” Zev said. He deftly took the sword belt in hand and wrapped it around her hips. His hands skimmed her waist, arms wrapping around her from behind as he tugged the belt through the metal loop. He slipped a finger between the leather and her hips, checking the fit. His hands lingered on her hips a moment longer. She could feel his mouth close to her ear, his warm breath. And then he stepped away, readying his own weapons. 

Kallian swallowed and ducked her head to hide the blush.

[snarky-bee]

Red Sunrise - Chapter 17: Broken Circle 2

***

The first several rooms they passed by were wide open and trashed much the same as the bedrooms downstairs. The only difference was these rooms held merely two beds instead of dozens of bunk beds crammed together. Her eyes scanned the place: a smashed mirror, scarves strewn about from an open chest, a string of pearls broken and scattered across the floor. Little things that marked the personality of the mages that lived here. They were gone now.

Kallian’s fingers twitched for those pearls.

“I thought I heard something,” she muttered, and sidestepped into the bedroom while Wynne led the party further up the hall.

She scooped up the broken string, cupping the remaining pearls into her palm. The thief in her couldn’t resist such an easy steal. Some extra coin for their troubles.

“Are we stealing now?” Zevran’s voice came from the doorway.

“Andraste’s ass, don’t do that!” Kallian hissed. She made no effort to hide her spoils, though.

“Do what? Make sure our lovely warden is not surprised by a nasty abomination? Or a blood mage attack?”

Kallian scoffed. “I’m fine. You know as well as I do there weren’t any noises coming from in here.” She tucked the pearls into a pouch on her belt and on a whim opened up a drawer in the vanity.

Zevran sauntered into the room and joined her foraging. “Be that as it may, I did swear an oath. It would look terrible upon me if I were to let you perish in this nasty tower.”

She pulled out small pots of kohl and rouge before dropping the cosmetics back into the drawer. “Let me?” she laughed lightly. “I’m not looking for your protection, you know. I can handle myself in a fight.”

“Ah, I did not mean to cause offence. I simply-”

She turned around, eyes creased with mirth.

“Ah,” he said, “a joke.”

Kallian nudged him with her elbow on her way past him out of the room. “A joke.  Would’ve been worse than a scratch if you hadn’t distracted that abomination back there. Or Alistair hadn’t blocked a fucking wall of fire with his shield. We have to have each other’s backs in this place or the demons will have us first.”

“And such a lovely back to look at too,” Zevran flattered as he followed behind.

“Noticed you looking,” Kallian flirted. “The view’s better without armour.”

It was just the two of them, and her stomach fluttered in excitement. ***

Continue Reading on AO3: Chapter 1 || Chapter 17

[snarky-bee]

I saw @heraldofwho​ do this so i made my babies Kallian Tabris x Zevran Arainai Tagging: @raymurata​ @dierosenrot​

[snarky-bee]

Just feeling those OTP feels when I think about Zevran never questioning Kallian's ability to fight and just having her back. Never overprotective, just silently by her side to make sure no one else gets the jump on her while she's busy being a badass herself. Battle couple.

[snarky-bee]

Bleeding Out

For “Blood” on October Prompts List Read on AO3

***

“Gah!” Kallian groaned then held her breath as Wynne’s cold fingers prodded at her belly. “Ngg… St-stop!”

Her gaze shot to the ceiling and she concentrated on the square runic patterns in the stone so she didn’t cry out again. Her abdomen was streaked with blood, and more rivulets rolled down her skin with every laboured breath. Clenching her hands had long since turned her knuckles white.

“Almost done, child,” Wynne soothed.

Mercifully, heat emanated from her cold hands and turned into the relieving balm of healing magic. Kallian’s chest eased and she took a full breath without pain. She slumped back down on her bed, eyes heavy, heart racing.

“When I said I liked seeing you covered in blood, I meant the blood of our enemies, my warden,” Zevran allowed himself a light chuckle. His hands went to her face, stroking sweaty hair from her forehead. “Better?”

“Much,” Kallian said weakly.

“You’re shaking, amor,” Zevran said. His fingers carded through her hair again.

“It’s the blood loss. Nothing that a bit of food and drink shouldn’t sort out,” said Wynne. “Let’s get you cleaned up though first, shall we?”

With Zev’s hand behind her back, she sat up, pleased that nothing felt like it was tearing apart inside.

"I did say Dwarven politics could be cutthroat, did I not?”

“We’ve been here all of two days!” Kallian protested.

Wynne pursed her lips together, having now returned with a basin of water and cloth. The water turned red with every dunk of the cloth until Kallian’s skin was clean. The only evidence of an injury was an angry red line where the knife had gone into her. Usually Wynne’s healing was impeccable, not a trace of scarring. But Kallian’s insides were firmly inside her and she wasn’t bleeding anymore so why complain.

“It is rather alarming that someone would attack you in broad day- during the middle of the day. You are a Grey Warden, honoured guest of The Assembly.”

“And picking the wrong side in the battle for the throne, according to someone,” Zevran replied.

Wynne tutted. “We all ought to be more careful around here. Let me get you some soup, child.”

Worry gnawed on her insides, enough to suppress her usual irritation at Wynne calling her ‘child’ at every chance she got.

“There, now eat up and you should feel your strength return soon enough.”

Her shaking hands caused the soup to slosh over the edge of the bowl and onto her lap. “Ow,” she hissed, and shooed Wynne’s hands away. “It’s fine.”

Wynne cast a concerned glance at her but Kallian continued to shoo her out of the room.

“So... you think Harrowmont’s people did this?” Kallian asked Zev. All she did was attend a single meeting. No agreements had been made. Who was watching her?  

Zevran sat on the edge of the bed, pensive. “Unless you have made other enemies in the short time we have been here. But it could be a radical. Someone who wanted to send a message that they aren’t happy the Warden is interfering in their politics. Or hoped to gain favour by taking out a political enemy.”

“Political enemy?” Kallian nearly laughed, then a sobering thought struck her. She remembered the gates. “Could someone of Loghain’s gotten in?”

“Well, was your attacker of a certain stature?”

Kallian turned red. “Ah… no, he was definitely a dwarf…”

Zevran shrugged. “That is not to say he could not employ a surface dwarf to his needs. But I highly doubt word already made it back to Denerim in time for him to change tactics.”

Absentmindedly, she wiped a hand down her front, feeling trickles of the soup broth soaking her clothes. Well, the shirt was ruined already anyway.

“Whoever it was also knew who I was meeting with, they were expecting me.”

Zevran nodded. “I too, am convinced it was not a random attack. They did not try to steal from you, and the blade was sharp enough to pierce hard leather, but hardly an instantly fatal wound. It may have been intended as a warning.”

“So… Harrowmont’s supporters…” Kallian lost her train of thought, suddenly ten times more tired. "Zev…" she trailed off, the softness of her voice did not match the alarm in her head.

Her fingertips tingled and the bowl slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor.

“Kallian!” he shouted.

He was swift to pull up her shirt, newly soaked with fresh wet blood. The sealed wound was open again, with no signs of the healing magic that Wynne applied just minutes earlier.

No wonder she felt so sick.

“What…” she mumbled, slumping back on the bed.

“Braska,” Zevran cursed, a hand over the wound to try and stem the renewed bleeding, looking toward the door. “Wynne!”

“This is no natural wound,” Zevran muttered. “It should not behave this way, though. Magic should have been enough… Different formula.”

Every sluggish beat of her heart saw more blood pouring from the wound that refused to heal. It was so hot, warm and she was so cold. Shaking, shivering.

“What? What’s wrong?” Wynne was back in an instant. She took one look in Kallian’s direction and her face paled. “But… how?”

Relief again as Wynne poured more energy into healing her, but her head was pounding and breath faint.

“Poison,” said Zevran. “Kallian, mi amor, stay with me, okay? I can fix this.”

Her shirt was sticky. What a pity the soft sheets would be ruined. “Sorry…” she trailed off, hand twitching towards Zev across the bed. Silky soft and cool on her skin, she should pay to replace them...

When his hands pulled away and they were slicked red. “Keep by her. You will have to keep the wound sealed. I know a recipe for an antidote… but, it even resists magical healing methods. If I knew what the components were…” Zevran thought out loud, pacing with a crease in his brows. “There must be a dwarven alchemist in the city.”

“Can’t afford to lose more…”

“I will not…"

Conversation turned muddy, like she was listening from underwater. Her head was swimming and vision tunnelling. Am I dying?

[snarky-bee]

OTP Song Meme

Rules: Sum up your OTP in a three song playlist. 

@raymurata immediately broke her rules for 3 songs and then tagged me!

1) More Than Words - Extreme

Kallian and Zevran take a while before they even get to ‘I love you’s’ but they don’t need it to know their feelings. They speak through actions and looks much more than words and they are both okay with that.

2) Water - Pentatonix

This is a Zev POV for his fear of being worthy of love but also realizing he wants it from Kallian.

3) I Won’t Give Up - Jason Mraz

Even in love Kallian is persistent and occasionally even shows some patience. She thinks Zev is worth it. And through their journey she learns about not just Zevran but herself. “I had to learn what I've got, and what I'm not, and who I am”

Honorary mention: Undisclosed Desires - Muse 

Healing each other from whatever pain and mistakes are in their past through their love. @raymurata already mentioned it but I can’t have my list without this song! The ultimate ZevWarden song.

Some tags! : @dafan7711 @greyvvardenfell @etaeternum @becausedragonage

[snarky-bee]

Official AO3 post of an edited and updated:

Zevwarden week 2017 Day 2: Domestic

In which Zev catches Kallian preparing to head to the river for a bath and decides to follow. He doesn't get what he expects to though.

Took some inspiration in expanding my original zevwarden piece from this post by @mocha-writes regarding Wynne’s comments about the warden and Zevran being noisy and it’s not because of sex :P