Chapter Text
He had a hard time trying not to touch her ears.
A simple, but odd statement, if he’d ever tell someone about it. But it was true. His martyrdom had started when Leliana, lovely Leliana with her singsong accent and charming manner, had all but poked his temple and told him he had short ears. Laughing, Zevran had turned towards her, catching her hand in his before she could nudge him again.
“And what do you expect me to do with this observation of yours, dear bard?” He had held her hand for a few seconds more before releasing it.
“I don’t know.” Leliana was smiling, too, her red hair shining in the firelight. “I just realized it today, you know. When you and our leader were going through the extra armour we collected, to find out what to keep and what to sell, you both tried on that horrible helmet, remember?”
He nodded at that. Around midday they had met a travelling merchant other than Bodhan and decided to use the opportunity to get rid of some unnecessary weight in their packs. Morrigan had sold the herbs and plants she had collected, Alistair an old shield he had no need for anymore. Wynne bought some elfroot for her potions, Sten a loaf of honeyed bread and Leliana had in vain asked for a pair of shoes. While the others haggled and bargained he and their Dalish leader had quickly sorted trough their shared pack of poisons and traps. On the bottom they had rediscovered a horrible pair of old boots and a simple leather helmet. They tried on both items, decided they did neither fit nor look any good and sold them off together with several flasks of dubious contents. Nothing too exciting. Maybe for Sten, but not for him.
“Well, I was just standing around, so I watched you two and I couldn’t help but notice your ears are shorter than hers. Even though you are taller”, Leliana continued, even if her excitement faltered after a few words. “Am I making you feeling uncomfortable?”
“Why? It’s not as if you are insulting my skills on the battlefield or in bed.” Zevran gave her a decidedly flirty look, which made her giggle melodically. They had long decided that they were too similar in training to be lovers, but they enjoyed each other’s company as friends. Sometimes they would flirt, just for the sake of it and laugh about it afterwards. He knew she was eying Alistair since weeks and he… well, he had his target set as well.
“But”, the Crow continued, “I am a bit offended you think my ears too short instead of hers just being too long.”
“I don’t know.” Leliana shrugged her shoulders. The movement made her cloak slide down from her neck and she hurried to shove it up again. The night was cold, even with the fire burning beside them.
“I could never ask the Warden about it. Well, I could but that might very well be the last thing I ever say. She’s easily offended by any comment about elves coming from me. In hindsight it was a big mistake to ever start the discussion about the elven servants working in Orlais.” The bard sounded truly sorry at the last part. Zevran could only vaguely remember the discussion. He had walked at the end of the group, jesting with Alistair when Leliana tried to make a bit of small talk with the female Dalish. She obviously had chosen the wrong subject as the talk was ended by the Warden’s icy retort after a few sentences.
“She’s touchy about it, yes”, he agreed. “But not only if you are the one talking. It seems more of a general dislike.” The assassin reached down to the fire, taking up his half-emptied mug of tea. “Actually, it wonders me a bit. As a Dalish I would have very much expected her to not care about the lot of city elves at all.”
“But aren’t you… well… the same people?” The woman sounded confused.
“Not at all”, he sighed and took a quick sip. “At least if you ask the Dalish. We are even less worthy in their eyes. Humans are bad, but elves who submit to them? They’re flat-ears, cowards. Weak and despicable.”
“That’s horrible! You can’t be serious, Zevran.”
“I very much am. Like I said, I was surprised she did not spit on me the first time. The Dalish are proud people and they do not like to be reminded that they, too, once were little more than slaves.”
They were silent after this, both contemplating on what had been said. The night was clear, which he was thankful for. It meant a break from the never-ending rain, even if it was colder without the protective layer of clouds above them. Leliana stoked the flames and shifted her coat, but she seemed to be deep in thought now. Maybe what he told her had been a bit extreme, but basically that was what he learned from the Dalish he met. Even if their leader was treating him with more respect, he was sure she would prefer the company of another Dalish over all her companions any time. Alistair had let him know she had been even worse in the beginning; not talking to him at all and aiming an arrow towards anybody who dared to speak up to her. Morrigan was the only other person – besides her Marbari and the huge wolf she kept - she got along from the very beginning. He could very well see why. The Witch of the Wilds and the child of the endless forests, they shared knowledge and stories none of the other’s knew. And both obviously disliked any kind of settlements. He had been excited when they finally entered a bigger city to stock up supplies, but the Warden’s eyes had first widened in shock and then hardened in repulsion. By the time they reached the market she was dripping with sweat and after an hour had started shaking from anxiety. When Alistair asked about it, he got a long angry rant about how filthy and disgusting the whole place was, but it was easy to see that she was, in fact, completely panicking. Zevran took a mental note never to put her in confined or crowded places after that.
“Soooo, back to the ears”, Leliana’s melodious accent interrupted his line of thinking. “Why are yours shorter? Or hers longer, whatever you prefer. Is it a Dalish thing?”
“I don’t know, I am no Dalish myself”, he answered. It wasn’t completely the truth, but enough of it to not make him feel as if he was lying to her. “I never realized it before, actually. I mean, yes we have pointy ears. But that’s it, isn’t it? Yours look different from Wynne’s or Alistair’s, too. Just like noses, eyes, fingers, bosoms-“
“Zev!”
“What? I’m trying to get the message across. Although, I do not think Alistair has a lot of bosom to begin with.”
“So it has nothing to do with you being a city elf and her one from the Dales?” She demonstratively ignored his quip.
“I don’t think so. Maybe a bit. Like we Antivans tend to have darker skins than Fereldans. Or like there are a lot more black-haired people in Llomerryn than in Val Royeaux.”
She nodded at that. “Sounds reasonable. Sorry for bothering you with that but I was wondering about it and did not dare to ask the Warden. Or to ask you while she was around.”
“No bother.” He stood up and stretched his aching back, setting the now empty cup aside. “Gonna wake her up now, though. It’s time for the second watch and there’s a pillow demanding my presence. You should get Sten, if he is not already awake and brooding in his corner.”
“I’ll do. Good night, Zev.”
“Night, Leli.”
He would not admit it, but when he was curled up under his blanket the Crow ran his thumb over the rim of his right ear. Too short, pah. They were normal elven ears, pointy and all that. Enough for some human to see him as a second-class being, yes, but there were more physical differences between elves and humans than that. Knife-ear was just the easiest thing to pinpoint it on. He snorted, and then chuckled to himself. Leliana was great company, but her thoughts sometimes were a bit odd.