#zevwardenstair

[bluerose5]

Zevran: Are you sure that you don't want me to deal with him?

Darrian: Zev, my love, we talked about this.

Zevran: Yes, yes, that he is Alistair's family, but that has never stopped people before. Not in Antiva, at least. Ferelden is so strange. He is a threat to your rule, yes?

Darrian: In a manner of speaking, I suppose.

Zevran: Then be rid of him already! I am your faithful servant, as always, unless you wish to take care of this matter on your own. I have to say, it is unlike you to shy away from getting your hands dirty.

Darrian: ...

Darrian: Whatever happens, be ready. Just in case Alistair changes his mind. Eamon has been trying his patience lately.

Zevran: And what a glorious day it will be when he finally decides that he has had enough.

[blarrghe]

Strange Feelings in the Party Camp

Ch. 11: All Things End

Oh my God I finally finished it.

Rating: M | Category: M/M/F | Words: 34,880  | Chapters: 11/11

Summary: Alistair is in love with Violet. Violet is sleeping with Zevran. Zevran is too good a friend to Alistair. Violet is too good a friend to Zevran. And can love even really be on the table, when you're all probably going to die?

Chapter Snippet:

It starts in a bed in Denerim. 

Morrigan leans over him, candlelight shining in her raven hair. 

But that is not the important bed. 

The night after they saved Anora, Alistair finds himself in a bed in Denerim. With Violet, with Zevran, with relief clouding his judgement. 

He would do anything, anything, just to keep them. 

Daff list: @warpedlegacy@rakshadow @rosella-writes @effelants @bluewren @breninarthur @ar-lath-ma-cully @dreadfutures @ir0n-angel @inquisimer @crackinglamb @theluckywizard @nirikeehan @oxygenforthewicked-art @exalted-dawn-drabbles @melisusthewee @agentkatie

[bluerose5]

This is perfection. I will never get tired of looking at this and all the details! I am in awe. 🥺💙

Commission for @bluerose5!

[itsyasyall]

are you telling me that this absolute unit of a man doesn't have 2 lovers?

[bluerose5]

There's something so sacred about ruling a country at your husband's side while your and your husband's other husband decides to act as an assassin for the throne.

[bluerose5]

What the Future Promises

There was something about sitting on the throne, his throne, that felt right.

Then again, maybe it was more so being there with Alistair, remaining at his side, that made all the difference in the world. They were approached on equal footing, neither one of them raised on a pedestal above the other. Both of their words carried a weight fit for their position.

Darrian's transition from Chancellor to King had been a logical shift in power, given his and Alistair's relationship, but not everyone was happy with such change.

Not that they didn't know how to deal with such opposition.

After all, a certain someone was all too willing to offer his services. Their ceremony in Rivain might have bound them all in marriage, but Zevran hardly wanted the title or power that came along with it. He left that to them, enforcing their rule from the shadows, where he worked best.

Two kings of elven blood on Ferelden's thrones, and one that stood behind them both, supporting them, even if left unseen.

Safe to say, all of Thedas was keeping a close eye on the situation unfolding in Ferelden.

It was only fitting, though, in Darrian’s eyes.

Circumstances forced Alistair and him to start their journey together during the Fifth Blight.

Now, they would forge their own path on their terms with Zevran at their side.

Whatever the future had in store for them, they would be ready for it.

[bluerose5]

Not gonna lie, I was re-reading my Darrian/Alistair works and damn I really was cooking & popping off with that power couple (technically throuple, since it's an ot3 with Zevran), huh?

[bluerose5]

Got Darrian as King on my mind lately, and his current series isn't anywhere near it, but I have been rotating the idea around in my mind nonstop. He, along with Alistair and Zevran, have been consuming my thoughts, but I am loving it.

[blarrghe]

🌹 and here's another one 🌹if you feel like sharing more than one sentence 😉🥺

from Strange Feelings in the Party Camp, the zevwardenstair fic I am, ostensibly, still working on.

“I have a question,” Alistair says. 

“I may have an answer.” 

Alistair takes a great breath, and his eyes flick up to the not-too-distant snowy mountain peaks. “When you were with Violet, before…” 

[itsyasyall]

Elf pile! [part 1]

[blarrghe]

Oooh, what is that Strange Feeling at the Party Campthat Alistair is avoiding?

Answered this one (here) but thank you all for setting me on this roll I am going to write more of it. Here's a snippet for part two :3

--

“He’s sweet on you, you know.” Zevran lounges back in a comfortable recline amid Violet’s things; her quilted blue Warden overcoat under his elbow, her bottles of elfroot salve and health poultices and more immediately useful oils cluttered up against her pack by his knee, her pile of warm furs spread tastefully over his lap, which is otherwise still bare, as is the rest of him.

“Who, Merry? Of course he is, he’s a good boy.” Merry’s head is in her lap now, the poor thing having whined until she let him stick his huge nose through the tent flap. He’s letting in the cold, but it’s better than letting in his muddy paws.

“Not the mabari,” Zevran chuckles, “Alistair, the other warden.” He raises an expectant eyebrow. Violet ignores it.

“Relax, Zev,” Violet spreads out, sticking out her legs to fall over his. Under the blanket, his skin is soft and warm, though there’s a slight stickiness still at his thighs, the last remnants of sweat and saliva and other things. “You’re not in danger from any big puppy dogs,” Merry perks up an ear, and she ruffles a hand against it. He’s soft and warm too, but he kind of smells. “No matter how good and cute they are,” she coos.

Zevran chuckles. “I am not worried,” he says, but he looks worried. He’s good at hiding it, at first Violet didn’t think he knew a single thing about care, but he does. There’s a line in his forehead and a rasp to his voice that gives him away. “He is rather like a big puppy, isn’t he?”

“Yes he is, yes he is,” Violet digs both hands into the soft shaggy fur around Merry’s ears.

“Not Merry, Vi —”

Violet sighs. “This is hardly pillow talk, Zev.” She gives the mabari’s gigantic head one more pat and then forcefully shoves the whole thing back out the tent flap, lacing it up again in the face of a tragically wounded protest from the dog.

[blarrghe]

I dont write about this ot3 of mine enough. I think there was a "first times" prompt for @zevraholics Zevwarden Week? Anyway, I may or may not keep this going in a nsfw capacity soon.

Alistair has never felt about anyone the way he feels about Violet. She is beautiful, funny, smart and so skillful. She fights like a tactician; efficient, full of tricks. He wishes he could talk to her of weaponry and poisons, traps and explosives, the way that Zevran does. He should be jealous of the assassin, and he is indeed suspicious, but Zevran makes him laugh, reaches out with comradery that feels real. He sees it when Zevean flirts with Violet, he feels it when she flirts back. But he feels it too when Zevran offers him a pat on the back, a playful nudge, a shoulder to lean on after a long day.

Violet flirts with him even after he knows she has been in Zevran's tent. The two rogues stop thier flirtations for a while, and much later she refers to this as the time she courted him.

He doesn't know why his friends have stopped visiting one another's tents, but nothing else changes as the days go on. Violet touches his arm when they talk, seeks him out to be the audience to her jokes, listens to his thoughts. She tells him more about who she is, he hears her heartache and his heart breaks.

She comforts him when he feels alone, makes him believe that their quest can succeed. She takes his hand sometimes, kisses him on the cheek.

The most comfortable way to end the day, is leaning on Zevran, entangled with Violet. Alistair can't be bothered to feel flustered when he is tired. Violet always finds a way to spread over them, and he pulls them both close to keep warm by the fire. It feels relaxing to have both of them nearby. During the day, sometimes he catches himself looking at Zevran and he wonders. He looks at Violet and he knows.

When Alistair is nervous about his feelings he talks to Zevran, he knows he shouldn't, but Zev is so understanding, and he is also so smooth. He is getting more used to leaning against Zevran's body at the fireside with Violet in his lap. As he asks for help, he is remembering how secure it feels between them both.

Zevran gives him advice freely, tells him he sees how he and Violet cherish one another.

"Do not be afraid to kiss her, here, you may practice on me!" No expectations or intentions, he teases, but his smile is hopeful.

At first, Alistair scoffs. But then, he wonders, could he?

"May -- may I?"

Zevran smiles and leans into him, leads him to his mouth with the breath if a kiss. Zevran's lips pull lightly at his. They stop for one heartbeat of a moment - Zev's lips are soft and full - and then fall away. It feels like flying

Violet looks at him and his heart stops. She gives him a playful kiss on the cheek, he gives her a rose.

She kisses him deeply, arms pulling him down to her, pressing her whole body into his. It feels like an embrace around his soul.

They lean on one another in the evenings. Violet takes him to bed. He is in love with her. He is in love with her. He is in love with her. He is --

He is leaning between Zevran's legs, and Zevran strokes his hair. Violet looks up from his lap, and suggests they go to bed together with all the tact of a sailor. Zevran grins, answers smoothly: he's game.

Alistair's skin is hot. His blood is rushing through his temples, down his body. He is thinking about Zevran's kiss, and his legs, and how he feels in the crook of his arm by the fire after a long day: hard, strong, but lean.

He thinks about Violet's gasps when he goes to bed with her; her smooth skin and soft curves, her kisses on his neck.

Violet squeezes his hand. "No pressure, I love you."

"You know Alistair, I care for you as well." Zevran says with ease, "I may tease, but I would never truly wish to make you uncomfortable"

No. The three of them like this? That IS his comfort. He wants Zevran's fingers in his hair, Violet's head in his lap.

"I am comfortable" He says, as if it is an excuse not to get up. "If you move from that spot I'll have nothing to lean on. Merry makes a far worse pillow." He cracks a very poor joke, and Zevran chuckles.

They sit watching the fire for a while, and in the silence he pictures it. Violet notices him growing from where she lies in his lap, subtly places a hand beneath the waist of his trousers, resting gently on his hip.

He wants her, he wants them both. He swallows, decides to be brave

"I'm comfortable." He says again.