Chapter Text
The first time she opened up to him was when both of them were sitting around the fire. The others had retired for the night, and they were to take first watch. He did not know if two people always took watch together, or if it was simply to ensure he did not slit their throats while they slept. He could not help but wonder if she had spent her entire time in the Circle reading strategy books, perhaps ‘How to Survive the Fifth Blight’, even. She was doing well for a first timer, if he could be so bold.
Regardless of the reason for her presence, he enjoyed the chance to examine her face. The fire cast enough light that he could see the golden parts of her eyes, see the slightly pointed ears escaping the cover of her dark hair, see the dryness of her lips. He was focusing on how she licked them when she broke the air of silence.
“My mother was from Antiva, you know?”
“Oh? I knew there was a reason I found you so gorgeous.”
Vanarí rolled her eyes, but her laugh betrayed her. The assassin had only joined them a short while ago, and she had not spoken to him much, yet she had to admit he did make the days funnier. He had a way of making fighting for your life seem less serious- minus the time he tried to kill them.
She still isn’t confident she isn’t a complete idiot for letting him join them. Maybe that's just Alistair getting into her head.
Zevran recognized the offer for conversation, however, and chased it. It was never considered a bad idea to be in the good graces of a Grey Warden.
"From what part was she from?”, he asked, hoping he sounded earnest.
"The capital. She said that Fereldan was always too cold and dreary, but she stayed because she met my father and had us," there was a small sigh and the elven mage debated even voicing the thoughts to someone skilled in using information as a weapon, "I hope they are alright."
"Ah, I am sorry if I have opened a wound, my dear."
Of course, this would be his luck. He tries to kill the woman, she bests him. He wishes to die, she spares him. He tries to gain favor, and he reminds her of the family the templars tore from her.,
"It's ok," that was her answer to everything, "Happens to the best of us."
Most of their merry group grew up with one parent or none, coincidentally. He would have made a joke that being an orphan taught resilience, but he sensed it would not be appreciated.
"It was my fault I got caught anyway."
Turning over a small pebble she had found between her feet, she continued.
"This boy was yelling at me for being a ‘filthy knife ear’, damning my mother for creating hybrids like my brother and I. Accusing my father of not being ‘man enough’ to marry another human, so he had to settle for an elf. It wasn't anything new. I shouldn't have gotten as upset as I did but that day I just- I don't know I just got mad.
"He started pushing me in the mud, and at first I was just gonna let him get his anger out and then go home. But then he kept pushing. And pushing. And pushing. I started choking on dirt and I couldn't open my eyes without them burning; I couldn’t breathe, and then he was off of me.
"People started shouting 'Witch!' and 'Templars!' before I even got up off the ground. I had hit him with my fist but little did I know that my magic decided to show up at the most convention time- I mean what better place to discover you’re an abomination than in the middle of town- and my hands were covered in rock . At least I got to see the bugger bleeding with rocks embedded in his face before the templars got me.”
He knew the magic she spoke of. She had aimed a similar attack at him only weeks before.
"I didn't get to say goodbye to my family."
She forced a small, pathetic smile. She'd shared too much, she always spoke too much, but then again, maybe he already knew this. How much had Loghain told him of his targets?
As the assassin sat in that moment he was not sure if not being able to recall his mother was a blessing more than a curse. He did not imagine his mother's tears and screams at the realization that her child had been stripped from her. He wasn’t haunted by the fact she was still alive somewhere in this cold country. Not like he was certain she was.
Knowing the conversation was burning out quicker than the meager fire they sat around, he ran through topics in his mind before finally settling on one. It was only fair to honor her revelation with candor of his own. After all, she had spared his life.
“You are what,” He waved his hand vaguely at her. “Twenty years old?”
“Yeah”
“And if I remember correctly, you told your fellow Grey Warden you were in the Circle for thirteen years, yes?”
His questions were sending warnings to her nerves, not knowing where he was leading. The fact he listened in on her conversations did nothing to ease her doubts.
“I was also seven when the crows bought me.”
Arí watched him as he spoke. Perhaps it was her naive hope, but she suspected the slight change in his voice was not from the dryness of the air but from the topic. Did Zevran get uncomfortable?
“And look at me now! Helping the great Surana to defeat the Archdemon! If we have survived so far, surely we will survive this, no?”
The woman was not a confident one and only shrugged her shoulders as his inquiry, not willing to voice her doubts.
The night had gotten far too serious for his lliking, and he could not let such a beautiful woman sink into sorrow while in his presence.
"A question if I may?"
She lifted her head from her hands. Approval to ask.
"Do all Fereldans have such an unhealthy love for those beasts they call dogs? I mean really they drool even worse than a drunk man looking at a whore!"
A large exhale left the mage to his left, one he knew well enough to hear it was begrudgingly close to laughter. At least not all his luck had left him.
He continued, "I suppose you people make up for by having such ravishing mages in your midst.”
A loud bark resounded from the other side of the camp, warning. Whether it was for calling him a beast or for complimenting (sort of) his mistress, he wasn’t sure.
"I feel foolish for asking since I already know the answer," she sighed but not without humor, "Must you flirt with everyone you meet?"
He gasped, scandalized by such a question. "My dear warden, you wound me so!"
Her lifted brow did not lower at his exclamation.
"Only with those who have been created by the gods themselves- such as yourself."
"Mmhhm," she hummed, not bothering to dignify his words with her own.