Work Text:
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.
He had spent the first day catching the Arl up on recent events and making plans for the foreseeable future, but after that he was left to wander the town and surrounding area while the rest of his team took a well deserved break. Arren did whatever he needed to to stay busy in the day; helping around the village, training, hunting, entertaining the children, anything. At night he was quieter than normal as his friends dined in the castle, frequently sneaking out to walk around the town. Tonight however, he spoke his mind.
“It is time we continue our task, we have much to do. Tomorrow morning we should leave.”
“Agreed.” Sten nodded, arms crossed. “We have spent too much time here.”
Alistair dramatically sniffled. “Goodbye soft bed, goodbye actual meals…” But he knew his fellow Warden was right, so he would only mildly object. Surprisingly, it was Zevran who pushed his preference against Arren’s word.
“Actually, dear Warden, could we perchance stay another day or two?” Though he tried to play it off casually by reclining in his seat, Arren could tell he was nervous about making such a request. Did he worry he was being out of line? He had been travelling with the rest of the group for near two months, he had earned his trust and should speak his mind. Of course, Arren couldn’t just give in because he had a soft spot for his fellow elf. Instead he gave Zevran a curious look.
“What for?”
“I seem to have gotten myself into quite the situation, and I would hate to leave loose ends,” he replied vaguely, though he didn’t shy away from Arren’s stare.
“A situation.”
“A situation.”
“Is this a situation you’d like to share with the rest of the class? Perhaps we could help.”
“No no, I’d much rather do this on my own. It should not take much longer.”
“Oh? Does this happen to involve the pretty blonde from the tavern?” Leliana smiled teasingly. “You have been spending an awful lot of time with her.” That got Arren’s attention, though he was quick to hide any surprise or hurt. He knew what his relationship with Zevran was; it was recent and it wasn’t serious. Zevran had been very clear from the beginning that if they were to have a relationship, Arren must understand that it would not stop him from flirting with others, and occasionally, should he desire, sleep with them. The same would go for Arren. Arren had agreed, so why it made his chest feel heavy to hear Zevran wants to stay in town because of someone he met was beyond him. Of course, he could be getting ahead of himself, no one said they were sleeping together.
“Perhaps it does, my darling bard.” Zevran threw the grin right back at her, leaning on his elbow. “And perhaps you would like to join me tomorrow- permitting we get to stay that is.”
She scoffed, taking another sip of her drink. “I think not.”
“What say you Warden? Will you grant my request?”
Arren was quiet, debating it as he finished his food. Finally he nodded. “Two days at most. We leave at dawn on the third. Unless you finish early, tell us so we can go.”
“But of course.” Zevran’s grin widened as he excused himself. He lightly touched Arren’s arm as he passed, humming contently. Once he was out of the room Alistair turned to his fellow Warden.
“Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Doesn’t what bother me?”
“ That! Aren’t you and Zev...canoodling? And he just asked to stay here longer so he could keep doing that with some girl at the tavern!”
“Did he now? From what I gathered he is simply taking care of some personal business. There may or may not be a pretty girl involved.”
“Oh there definitely is. Doesn’t it bother you that he flirts with everyone ?”
“Not at all.” Which was...mostly true. The flirting he didn’t mind, yet… “Zevran has been nothing if not honest with me. I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to ‘canoodle’ with him. If he also wishes to canoodle with others I will not stop him, nor would he if I did.”
“But you don’t.” Leliana joined the conversation, watching Arren from behind her glass.
“No, that is not who I am. But I will not stop Zevran from being who he is, nor would I want to.” He stood, hands on the table. “I appreciate everyone's...concerns...with my relationship, but it is not needed. I trust Zevran and I trust that we will both act like adults should any conflict between us arise. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find something to do for the next two days.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
As it turns out, he spent the next two days frequently on the roads around Redcliffe. Morrigan, Sten, himself, and his Mabari Falon’din often hunted and trained together, not caring for the city life. Or in Falon’din’s case, just following his master. Arren would wake in the morning to Zevran getting out of bed. Once or twice they ran into each other either in town or at the castle. They’d all have dinner together, then Zevran would leave again, not coming back until well into the night. When prompted about his day the Antivan would shrug.
“I will be having more drinks with the lovely lady at the tavern our dear bard mentioned.”
“I have almost finished my business here, just one more day my Warden.”
“Worried are we? Fear not mi amor, no one in this town would touch any of their heroes.”
Arren decided not to push his luck. He trusted Zevran, and he was allowed to do whatever he wanted with his day. Yet he was clearly hiding something, and that hurt for some reason the Dalish was not ready to sift through. He had far too much else to worry about.
Alistair was a surprisingly good comfort to Arren in Zevran’s stead. Of course he thought of Alistair as a brother and turned to him for advice frequently, but something this personal was better handled by someone better with words. Perhaps it was how Arren had helped his fellow Warden after Duncan’s death, but Alistair was quite the support as Arren grieved his dead clansmate. He would push for Arren to talk about it, but knew signs of when to back off well enough. With Zevran gone most of the time, Arren turned to Alistair for the nitty gritty Warden and taint related truths and comforts, to Leliana for something more idealistic, and Wynne when he just needed to be around someone.
For now though, all he needed was a bit of space and silence. Arren laid on the roof of the castle, arms behind his head as he stared at the stars. He recited Elven constellations and their stories to himself, keeping them fresh in his mind. His ear flicked as he heard quiet footsteps, though he didn’t look up at his sudden companion. Instead, he pointed up at the sky.
“Do you see the one that looks like a halla? See her front legs in the air, and her head held high? That is Equinor, Ghilan’nain’s constellation; the mother of halla.” His companion hummed, laying next to Arren to join him in his stargazing.
“The stallion, yes?” Zevran spoke fairly quietly, it felt wrong to speak at a normal volume. “I always thought horses were to Tevinter’s, what dogs are to you Fereldon’s.”
“Constellations have many stories. Alistair tells me that the Gray Wardens say it is a griffon sitting, not a horse or halla.”
“Speaking of many stories, I assume you did not share any at dinner, since Wynne says you did not attend?”
“Apparently neither did you.”
“No, I was finally able to wrap up my business here.”
“Good. We can leave tomorrow then.” Again Zevran hummed, and the two fell into a peaceful quiet, enjoying eachothers company. Yet when Zevran reached for Arren’s hand, the other elf flinched slightly. Zevran faced his leader, an eyebrow raised. When Arren remained silent, refusing to look at him Zevran sighed.
“I had hoped our little groups mother had been wrong in her scoldings tonight, though perhaps she was not. She tells me I have been neglecting you. That while I am free to make my own choices, I should consider how they affect others. You recently lost your Bonded, then in your time of need I spend my days in a tavern with another. I see how that could be taken, and I want to assure you that nothing happened between her and I.”
Taking a deep breath, Arren’s eyes remained on the stars. “It would be fine if something had. I know the terms of our arrangement. I have been coping fine on my own.”
“Ah, but you should not have to, mi amor. I would hate to assume, but I also like to fancy that I have a special impact on those around me. I fancy thinking I have a special impact on you. I know you do not like to voice such things, but if you need me, for any reason, I implore of you to act on those needs.”
Arren turned his head, expecting to find a smirk at what could very easily be considered an innuendo. The sincerity and slight concern he found in Zevran’s soft smile instead surprised him. He stared for a moment before returning the smile; smaller, and with more pain, but at least he was finally expressing himself more. He took Zevran’s hand, looking back up at the sky with him. After a moment Zevran sat up, prompting Arren to do the same.
“Ah! I nearly forgot! The reason I have been so absent, my business here with the woman at the tavern; it is a gift for you, mi amor.”
“A gift? You didn’t have to do that Zevran.”
“After all you have given me and the others in our little group of misfits? No, I did not. But I wanted to.” The Antivan reached into a small bag on his hip and handed a velvet pouch over. Arren looked between the pouch and Zevran a few times before slowly untying it and pulling out the contents. He gasped, staring at the wood carving in his hand; stylized tree with carvings resembling a hare, a hawk, and an owl etched into the bark. Almost tentatively he ran his fingers across the small statue.
“Zevran...where did you-” He stopped as Zevran put a hand over his, the other tilting Arren’s chin up to make him look at him.
“Ir su arvel tu elvaral u na emma abelas…” He spoke slow and clunky, his accent making him put emphasis in the wrong spot, but even spoken in such a way Arren recognized the lines from the Elven song. Long journeys are made longer when alone within. “I know you have been through much, you are away from your clan and surrounded by shemlem. You are made to be the strong and silent leader and make life changing decisions. But you are not alone mi amor- ma vhenan .”
In the next moment Zevran was knocked back on the roof, practically tackled by Arren. He grunted in surprise when he felt the others lips on his own. Before he could react more than that the other pulled away, just enough to rest his forehead on Zevran’s. Arren was not one to show emotions often. In fact, the only other time he had seen the Dalish so worked up was when he saw Tamlen. Twice. But here he was, eyes closed, smiling softly, brows upturned, and whispering things Zevran couldn’t understand in Elven. Slowly Zevran lifted a hand, brushing Arren’s hair out of his face and caressing his cheek.
“Ma serannas, ma vhenan…for everything…” Softer this time, they kissed again. When Arren leaned back this time, he got off of Zevran, examining the statue once more. “Where did you get this?”
“Well! The first night here when I went for a drink, I saw a Dalish woman on her own. I knew you were in a difficult place, so I asked her for help in ways to cheer you up. I told her how you like to make wood carvings, and she suggested making you a place of worship to bring with us on our journeys. I wanted to serenade you, but settled for learning a sentence or two in Elven instead.” He sat up, shrugging. Arren leaned against his partner.
“It’s perfect Zevran...thank you.” They sat together quietly for several minutes, enjoying eachothers company, until Arren spoke again. “You know...I would have liked to meet this Dalish woman.”
“Perhaps I did not wish to share you, hm?” He laid back on the roof once more, pulling Arren down with him. “But let us not talk of others. Why don’t you tell me more about this Ghilan’nain, and your Andruil.”
Arren spent his last night in Redcliffe wrapped in his lovers arms, telling grand tales of the Elven Gods, not despising the town quite as much anymore.