Chapter Text
“I’ve been practicing! Just listen…un dia hermoso para matar dragones.”
Zevran has to fight a smile as he listens to Allys’s attempts at Antivan. Her memory is good, he’ll give her that much. But her accent is all wrong; her voice flickers up where it should curl, and words that should linger and roll gently across the tongue are crisp and clipped all too quickly. He will give her some credit- she does not brutally crash through the words the way so many Fereldans do. But her Dalish cadence still finds its way into her speech, no matter how hard she tries.
“That was…better.”
Allys studies his face for a moment, her nose crinkling in concentration. “Liar,” she says at last, shaking her head. “Come on now, don’t be soft on me.”
“Your accent does leave some room for improvement,” he admits. At Allys’s frown, he quickly adds, “Ah, but it is not your fault. Antivan is a romantic language, one that must be felt. To try and capture such beauty and elegance whilst surrounded by this-” he motions around them, at the mud and snow and utterly Fereldan surroundings- “is a difficult endeavor, to say the least. One cannot be blamed for butchering the words in such an environment.”
His speech is met with a roll of the eyes from Allys, although she now fights back a smile of her own at his poetic teachings. “Butchering your language, am I? Is the environment also your excuse for your poor elvhen? Last time I checked you were still saying ‘ara seranna’ when you really mean ‘aneth ara’.”
“I would think my excuse is much more obvious, my dear Warden,” Zevran says with a teasing grin. “You see, my teacher is simply so stunning that it proves quite impossible to think of anything else during her lessons.”
That finally causes Allys to laugh, her grin breaking through the faux severity she’d been attempting. “Ah, of course. How silly of me not to realize.” She pauses, scrutinizing him for a moment before saying, “Although I have to say, if you give out compliments so freely, Antiva may not live up to your loving descriptions.”
“I never give an unearned compliment,” Zevran assures her with a wink. “Antiva is a jewel unlike any other, have no doubt about that. My loving descriptions hardly do it justice.”
Allys hums thoughtfully, still looking a bit skeptical. “I shall have to visit Antiva and judge it for myself, I think.”
“You shall not be disappointed, this I promise.”
“We’ll see. Any new place is only as good as its guide, you know. I don’t suppose you have any recommendations?”
The question is delivered in a casual tone, but Zevran doesn’t miss the way Allys’s eyes flicker to watch his response, the ways she holds herself in anticipation of his answer. It is more subtlety than she is typically capable of- a gentle prodding, rather than a demand for answers- and yet it is all too obvious what she’s really asking.
How long will this last?
The question gives Zevran pause. How strange that not so long ago, he’d planned to lightly dance through his wooing of the Warden as he had with so many others, to be her pleasant distraction and nothing more, to slip back into his shadows once the Blight was done.
Now, he imagines walking with Allys down the streets of his homeland, her dark eyes sparkling in the Antivan sun, adding to the beauty of the city.
Until very recently, Zevran had never attempted to picture a life after the Blight. It’s easy to move forward when all he has to do is wade through darkspawn and survive until the next day. But return to his city, try to start life anew after so much time waiting for it to end? That is harder. And yet, the image in his head spurs a longing that echoes deeply in his chest, one that carries not only the familiar pang of yearning for the home of his past, but also a new, strange sense of hope for the future.
Allys waits patiently for his answer, and finally Zevran says, “There is one that comes to mind- knows the city by heart, can provide hours of entertainment and conversation, devastatingly handsome. Would he be accompanying you back to your clan afterwards?”
Now it is Allys’s turn to pause. “For a visit, I suppose. It would be wonderful to see them again- and introduce them to a guide who comes with such impressive credentials. But I don’t think I will stay, as much as I wish to. A lot of things have changed.” A small sigh escapes her lips, and her eyes turn wistful. “I think I’m a Warden for good now. But I’d still appreciate a…a guide, if he doesn’t mind the work.”
The uncertainty in her eyes might be heart-wrenching were it not so completely unwarranted. Zevran has followed far worse people into far worse situations for far worse reasons; this choice may be one of the few in his life he doesn’t regret. He slips his hand into Allys’s, entwining their fingers in a firm and comforting grip. “On the contrary, my dear Warden, he would relish the chance to travel in such lovely company.”
Relief and happiness flood Allys’s expression, and her fingers tighten around Zevran’s. His soft tone lightens into something more teasing as he continues. “Unfortunately, it seems the Antivan assassins have placed quite a large bounty on his head.”
Allys sighs dramatically, her play-acting only slightly marred by the smile still on her face. “Ah, what a shame. Perhaps he could use a bit of help getting rid of those pesky assassins once the Blight is taken care of?”
“I think he would appreciate the company, yes. And perhaps in return he could enlist the help of a lovely Dalish huntress to further his knowledge of elvhen?”
Allys laughs, bright and joyous. “I know just the woman for the job.”
“Then I look forward to the trip, mi amor.” The endearment rolls easily off Zevran’s tongue before he even realizes he’s said it. Allys’s eyes light up with curiosity, but rather than prodding further she simply nods, as if all her questions have already been answered.
“So do I, ma vhenan.”