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“Come out of the tent, Mahariel, I swear it will not be so bad.”
“You’ll laugh at me, I know you will,” came the immediate muffled reply from within the tent. “Morrigan already did.”
“Morrigan does that,” said Zevran. “But I won’t. Come, mi amor.”
“No!”
“May I come in, if you’re having so much trouble? That way the big bad qunari and the scary bard won’t bother you.”
“You’re already mocking me, Zevran.”
Zevran sighed. “You’re right, I am. I’m sorry. Can I come in?”
“…Fine.”
Zevran pushed the flap to the tent aside, his eyes taking a second to adjust to the dim light. Normally he loved his time spent here, among Maiti’s bed of animal furs and little Dalish trinkets he kept in a basket. Light often fractured on the mirror he kept, reflecting on the canvas walls and making the tent feel heady and hot. Right now, however, Maiti was sprawled on the furs, mumbling incoherently.
“Look at my eye,” said Maiti, sitting up and pointing to his right eye. “I got stung. It was awful.”
“How big was the bee?” said Zevran, kneeling and taking a closer look.
“They were so big,” said one of the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden, the only one with any chance of defeating the Archdemon and ending the Fifth Blight. He said it so mournfully. “And there were so many. They must have been Blight bees. They hurt so much.”
Zevran frowned at the sight of his Warden’s swollen face. Bee stings were supposed to look puffy, yes, but not like this. He had to have had a bad reaction to it.
“You know,” he said, arranging the furs so they could lean back on them and still be sitting. He positioned himself next to his muscular elf, firmly setting two fingers under his chin and turning his face to meet Zevran’s gaze. Maiti’s eye was nearly swollen shut, a whole half of his face puffed and red. “It’s okay to cry.”
Maiti’s lip, distorted by the stings, trembled. “You won’t laugh?”
“No,” he said. “I won’t laugh.”
Maiti’s visible eye filled with tears and Zevran kept one hand on his cheek, caressing his skin as he fumbled for his belt with the other hand. It only took him a few moments to retrieve his poisons kit. Maiti clearly recognized what it was and shifted away from him slightly.
He found the correct tonic and dabbed a bit on his finger, rubbing it into Maiti’s face. Mahariel sighed in relief, the pain clouding his features disappearing.
“Why do you put up with me?” said Maiti, fingers fumbling to touch his face.
“Now, now, don’t get all serious on me,” said Zevran. “Your face needs time to heal, and frowning will make it take longer.”
“Really?”
Zevran tilted Maiti’s chin towards him, pressing a kiss to burning lips. “Really. Let’s say we have some fun to help you forget your problem, hm?”
Maiti smiled against his lips. “I like that idea,” he said. “I like that idea a lot.”