Chapter Text
Bralinden heard the door open and close behind her and footsteps on the chilled stone floors. She glanced to the side as a familiar shadow appeared on the wall, illuminated by the candles that were dimming. Hands playfully danced across Bralinden’s shoulders, trying to push the shoulders of her loose-fitting nightgown as she sat at her desk, pouring over papers. Bralinden couldn’t tell what they were anymore, in the end, and welcomed the distraction for a moment in the form of Zevran’s sweet voice and gentle touches. “I swear, mi amor, your muscles are like iron.”
Bralinden grunted, rolling her shoulders and gently knocking Zevran’s hands away with her quill, trying to mask a smile. “They have to be. My armor is heavier than iron, as is my shield, and my sword. Born underground with iron in my veins.”
“And a kingdom on your back,” Zevran replied, kissing her temple. “I know. You can’t seem to get rid of the kingdom, can you? Shed Orzamar for Ferelden, it seems.” Zevran paused, and reached past her to pluck a piece of paper from the stacks. “Are you aware that you’re reading one of Wynne’s baking recipes?”
“She sent me one of the recipes I was asking for?” Bralinden asked. She tried to grab it. “I hadn’t even seen it! I hope it’s the bread pudding.”
Zevran tutted, pulling it out of her reach and setting it down among the chaos of parchment. “Darling, you’ve been at work for hours! I’m only in Amaranthine for a short time, you know…we can’t spend it all in this drafty study of yours. Between you showing off this lovely summer home and the recruits that you’ve trained by hand, and all this paperwork, I’m starting to feel like you don’t like me anymore!” He sat on the desk and pushed some papers aside, messing up Bralinden’s haphazard organization. “I could give you a proper massage, if you would let me. You know I give some of the best…”
Bralinden huffed and tried to be annoyed, but all she managed was blow some bangs out of her face for them to land back on her cheek. Zevran reached out and brushed it from her face, coy and teasing. Then his expression faltered, as he drew the pad of his thumb across her cheek.
“You look so tired, Bralinden. You’re starting to go grey.”
“Ah, I knew it. You weren’t with me because of my gorgeous looks.” She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes for a moment.
“No, I meant—Bralinden, all these responsibilities. They are not for one to bear alone. The Warden Commander of the Grey, Arlessa of Amaranthine, Chancellor to King Alistar Therin of Ferelden. Each job is more than enough for one person, yet you try to handle three.”
“What can I say?” Bralinden sighed. “I’m an overachiever. But I will always find time for you, my love.” She pulled Zevran off the desk and into her lap. He laughed and kissed her forehead, then her nose, her cheeks, then her lips. Bralinden reciprocated on the last one, before she sighed and buried her face in his nightshirt. He was warm and inviting, easily wrapping his arms around her as she sighed yet again.
“You have a funny way of showing it,” he teased.
Bralinden looked up at him, chin resting on his chest. “Fine, fine. Tomorrow—all of tomorrow—it’ll just be us. No paperwork, no Grey Warden business, no Chancellor of Ferelden duties. Just us. I promise.”
“I expect the grandest treatment,” Zevran replied sarcastically, but he seemed pleased at her decision. He gently framed her face in his hands, and kissed her again. “But, before you make sure that tomorrow is one of the best days of our lives, let us start it off right by making sure that you are relaxed, and in your best shape.” His hands wandered down, rubbing her neck and shoulders. “Come on. Bed. I’ll make sure to relax you.”
* * *
With a spring in his step, Zevran led Bralinden from her study and to her bedroom one door over. He had not meant to distract her from her work too much. He had arrived unannounced, coming post-haste after hearing the whole debacle with the two separate sides of Darkspawn. He didn’t mind watching Bralinden work, whether it was training the newest recruits or writing strongly worded letters to nobles, merchants, or other important individuals.
But what concerned him was how tired Braliden looked. Her reflexes were sluggish, her mind constantly elsewhere, thinking about the next step, never letting her mind settle on the present.
So, Zevran settled Bralinden into her four poster bed. He had been preparing, with candles lit throughout the room, and sweet fragrances imported from Orlais drifting through the air. He even found flowers this time of year, and sprinkled them on the floor in a path to the bed, saving the nicest looking petals to rest upon the sheets.
Bralinden paused at the door, jaw dropping for a moment. Zevran chuckled, and led her in. “How did you do all of this without me hearing you?” she asked, gazing about. “I was just in here an hour ago to change for bed.”
“I improvised! And you must admit, I have always had the talent for sneaking about. Now, if you would please…” He gently tugged at her nightgown. “Let’s make sure that you’re absolutely relaxed. You deserve that much, my love.”
He could practically feel Bralinden roll her eyes at him as she stepped towards the bed, but she started to undo the braid in her hair, and shrugged off her nightgown, letting it drop into a puddle on the floor before she crawled onto the bed. Zevran sucked in a breath, admiring the view for a moment. She had gotten more scars since he had last seen her, one delicately curling down her side. Tinier ones littered her skin, a story behind each one. The most prominent, one above her heart, made Zevran’s stomach twist uncomfortably.
The fear went away though when Bralinden glanced over her shoulder shyly, and smiled. “Are you joining me?”
“Of course,” he replied, and hurried across the room with much more enthusiasm. Bralinden laid down for him, hugging a pillow, and Zevran sat down next to her. “I promise, this will be the best massage of your life.”
Zevran got to work getting the knots out of Bralinden’s shoulders and back. He coated his hands with a sweet scented oil, and felt Bralinden begin to relax underneath his touch. She sighed happily, and glanced over her shoulder at him. He smiled, and she smiled back.
“Tell me of your adventures,” Bralinden muttered. “The newest ones. It’ll help me relax.”
“Will it, now?”
“Yes. That way I know what you were up to. I can add people who tried to hurt you to my hit list.”
“Oh, so charming. I took down their names and descriptions, just for you. But yes, I will tell you of my adventures. How about we start at the beginning. While we were traveling across the Waking Sea and to the Amaranthine Ocean, a curious thing occurred…” Zevran kept his voice low and soft so Bralinden would focus on his tone, and not the actual daring adventures that he took part in without her watching his back. She occasionally weighed in, her voice growing softer and softer as his stories trailed on. Some time passed until he asked, “So, do you know what I said, my love?”
He was met with silence. Zevran blinked.
“Bralinden?”
He was met with soft snoring.
Zevran, bemused, flopped onto the mattress next to Bralinden. She hugged the pillow like a lifeline, eyes shut, face relaxed, and fast asleep. Zevran sighed but couldn’t blame her, as he grabbed a blanket and gently tugged up around her. He hurried about the room, putting out the candles and incense. Once he was done, he stripped, and moved his pillow so he was next to her. She muttered something and instantly nuzzled closer to him, forgoing the pillow to sleep with him as her comfort.
“Goodnight, my love,” he whispered. He kissed her forehead. “We will celebrate more tomorrow.”