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Zevran watches the Grey Warden as he follows the man back to his camp. He has the other Grey Warden and the qunari and the mage at his back, none of them trusting him after he tried to kill them. Well, he does not blame them for the mistrust. He, too, would not trust an assassin – does not trust assassins. This is why he is trying to leave the Crows entirely. Well, that and the fact that he’s never known anything else.
The leader of this little band is the only person who doesn’t seem suspicious of Zevran. It’s an obvious weakness, this trust, but Zevran appreciates that it will be a relatively simple matter to ingratiate himself to this Grey Warden. It’s an entirely pragmatic decision – he wants to live. None of the Crows will take a contract on the Wardens, because they are heroes and are highly respected, but mostly because they are apolitical, so they are not meaningful targets for anyone.
But a lone runaway Crow? That is a simple matter for even the greenest assassin to take on. And yes, Zevran could handle the youngsters, but he has no interest in spending the rest of his life looking over his shoulder and waiting for the inevitable moment when someone gets lucky. Better to make him invaluable to the Grey Wardens and then he will be a reluctantly ignored nuisance, and the Crows should leave him alone. Hopefully.
All he has to do is make this Grey Warden like him enough to want to keep him around.
Aedan Cousland is a very attractive man, and seems to know it, based on the confident set of his shoulders, and he shoots a smile over his shoulder as he leads the way through the forest. Zevran cannot deny that he’s tempted by the man. And, given that the man is a nobleman, at least a former nobleman, Zevran will have additional protection so long as he gets this Warden to like him enough.
And Zevran knows exactly how to do it.
He’s gotten all sorts of reactions to propositioning people in his life, but this Grey Warden has the rarest of responses, sending Zevran onto the back foot immediately.
Aedan laughs, the sound rich and deep, his grin making his eyes crinkle. “I admit, I am tempted,” he tells Zevran honestly, “but you’ll have to forgive me for denying myself the pleasure.”
Zevran tilts his head, still smiling and trying to look even more alluring. “My darling Warden, why do you deny yourself anything? You are tense from all this Blight business. Allow me to assist you in relaxing. I know a great many techniques that will have your stress melting off your bones.”
Aedan shakes his head, but he’s still smiling, so he doesn’t seem offended by the offer. “It’s not that. I made a promise. To myself, to my mother, to the Maker.”
Zevran’s brows furrow in a silent question.
Aedan nods firmly and meets Zevran’s gaze. “I’m saving myself. For marriage.”
Zevran has never heard of anything more offensive or horrifying in his life.
His absolute dismay must show on his face, because Aedan starts laughing again.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds. I was on the cusp of being betrothed, before…” Aedan’s laughter dies in an instant, face falling. Zevran does not know the story of how Aedan became a Grey Warden, but it doesn’t seem to be a happy tale. “Anyway, my mother made me promise because my brother was far too wild for her sanity.”
“Well, if you must wait until marriage…” –Zevran wants to know the story, of course he wants to know the story, but he also doesn’t want to push this man away– “Then, I shall have no choice.”
Aedan quirks an eyebrow up, confused.
Zevran takes one of Aedan’s hands and drops down to one knee. “Grey Warden Aedan Cousland, you are the most honorable person I have ever met, and I owe my very life to your mercy, will you marry me?”
Aedan bursts out laughing, yet again, the sound warming Zevran from the inside out.
Zevran watches, both in bafflement and amusement, as Aedan claps him on the shoulder and goes back to the central fire, setting up to make stew. Zevran watches, partially confused as Aedan makes the food all by himself, gently rebuffing any attempts to help. Zevran sits on the ground near him, watching him chop and stir and cook all with a soft look of contentment on his face.
“You enjoy cooking, yes?” Zevran asks, curious despite himself.
Aedan nods, chuckling to himself. “Nan used to throw a fit whenever I’d go into the larder, looking for ingredients and just messing with her recipes.”
“Nan?”
Aedan’s smile grows on his face. “She didn’t much like Barkspawn either. Used to yell whenever he’d get into the kitchen.”
Zevran glances over at the mabari, currently trying to cover his entire form in mud, thanks to the puddle at the edge of the campsite. “You liked Grey Wardens even from a young age, I see.”
Aedan laughs and nods. “I used to run around, pretending to ride on griffons and slay these horrible beasts and save the day. Fergus – my brother – would pretend to be an archdemon for me sometimes. Until he got older and decided chasing skirts was a better idea.”
“And we’re back to that vow of yours,” Zevran teases lightly. “Your brother is the wild one of the two of you then?”
“Well…” Aedan mutters, expression rueful. He leans forward, conspiratorially winking at Zevran. “He might’ve been the more experienced one, but he definitely was not the wild one.”
Zevran laughs in delight.
“I got up to more trouble than any of the other noble children combined. Mother used to bemoan her fate as the grandmother to who knew how many bastards and the mother of the most insane child known to Thedas. Father never could decide which of his sons was more troublesome – the whore or the wild one.”
“What did you do?” Zevran asks.
Aedan goes back to his cooking. “I used to get into all sorts of scraps, because I saw something that I knew wasn’t right. I found a girl, her older brother had stolen her doll and tossed it up a tree, taunting her for being a baby. Instead of, say, climbing the tree and retrieving the doll, I had Barkspawn chase the boy up the tree, not letting him down until he got the doll and gave it back to his sister.”
Zevran laughs at the utterly embarrassed expression on Aedan’s face. Nothing about the story is particularly surprising, not after having met the man. True, Zevran doesn’t know Aedan particularly well, but he could tell immediately that this man is one who desperately wants to do good in the world, whether or not the world wants that good.
“Mother was livid. Apparently, the boy was the son of some lesser arl, and I had to apologize to his smug little face. Which was bad enough, but then he said something nasty about my family under his breath. Father had to drag me off him and make me call off Barkspawn before he killed the boy,” Aedan continues the story. “That arl pretty much stopped speaking to my father after that, always demanding the opposite of whatever Father wanted, just because. I was in trouble for a month.”
“That does not seem fair,” Zevran replies, frowning.
Aedan shrugs, like this is normal and expected. “That’s the life of a noble child. It doesn’t matter that he was bullying his sister or that he insulted our family, he was influential, and therefore I had to play nice with him. It didn’t matter in the end, because the father sent his son off to be apprenticed to a chevalier, which isolated the family anyway, because so many people are still opposed to anything Orlesian.”
“What became of the boy, I wonder…”
Aedan shrugs. “From what I gathered, he did very well for himself and is quite successful in Orlais.”
Zevran hates stories like these. While he knows the way of the world is unfair and unforgiving, he still wishes that justice were more balanced. The bully should have been punished and had a miserable existence, and yet Aedan, who was merely trying to do a good deed for the young girl was punished, and is now a Grey Warden. Granted, Aedan is probably thrilled about being a Grey Warden – a childhood dream realized.
“Well, if you ever have the desire,” Zevran purrs the words out, making them as salacious as possible, “for things to be… different for your old nemesis. I am quite adept at managing such situations that you might not get your hands dirty yourself. And, as I am in your debt, I would do so entirely for free, of course.”
Aedan cracks up, laughing so hard he almost falls over. “Of course,” he manages to get out before wiping the tears off his face.
“I am a fair Crow, you see,” Zevran adds, making Aedan laugh harder. Aedan’s laughter is like a balm on Zevran’s irritation. It is impossible to listen to his overwhelming joy and not feel the urge to smile, or laugh along. Zevran grins, not just because of Aedan’s bright smile, but because keeping this man happy is the best way for Zevran to stay alive. After all, people don’t want to kill people they like.
As long as Zevran keeps Aedan laughing, keeps ingratiating himself to Aedan’s good graces, he’ll survive.
Zevran gets more and more horrified with every passing day, learning that Aedan is as flirtatious as any whore Zevran has ever met before, in addition to being a brilliant and vicious fighter. Zevran watches him systematically take out an entire contingent of darkspawn nearly single-handedly – moving faster and more efficiently through a battlefield than the most skilled warrior. And worst of all, he is funny. It takes one day of travel with the man for Zevran to understand why his other companions are so protective of him – keeping sharp eyes on Zevran whenever he gets too close to Aedan – and why they follow him at all.
Maker’s breath, Zevran feels that pull as well, because Aedan is a good person and will do anything to help his friends. It makes his vow of chastity all the more egregious. The man is gorgeous and funny and deadly and all the things that Zevran admires most in a partner and he refuses to entertain anything at all. It’s a crime.
Zevran gets brought into the fold of the group once they’ve successfully gotten the cooperation of the Dalish clan, finding himself remarkably fond of all his companions. Even Morrigan has warmed up to him, in her cold, biting, and standoffish way. Zevran only knows this because she willingly passes him a bowl of stew at supper one night, without so much as an antagonistic word about it.
And Aedan is still there, smiling and laughing and joking and being impossibly, annoyingly good at everything. He makes everyone – even Sten – smile with his stories and laughter, and Zevran is infuriatingly charmed by the man. He’s going to sleep with this man if it’s the last thing he does, not least of which because he so dearly wants to convince someone with a vow of chastity to break said vow. It’s a point of pride at this point that Zevran sleeps with anyone he flirts with.
The night before they leave the Brecilian Forest, Zevran corners Aedan by the fire, offering himself to the Grey Warden yet again. Only this time, it’s not to ingratiate himself to the man – it’s because he genuinely wants to sleep with him.
Aedan smiles and shakes his head. “I told you, I’m saving myself.”
“For marriage, yes,” Zevran nods. At this point, he’s heard the story, and he does not wish to ruminate on it, lest he become sad. It’s more heartbreaking than Zevran’s own tale, and he was an orphan raised in a whorehouse and sold to an assassin’s guild.
Zevran takes Aedan’s hands in his own and looks into the man’s eyes, trying to look as earnest as he possibly can. “You are the most glorious person I have ever come across in my travels. I do not know where I would be without you, darling Warden. Aedan Cousland, will you marry me?”
Aedan tilts his head back as he snorts on his laughter, tears of mirth building at the corner of his eyes.
“How dare you!” Zevran says, in mock-offense. “I am baring my heart to you and you laugh! You wound me.”
Aedan fights down his laughter. “You just want the forbidden fruit,” he points out. “The moment we sleep together, you’ll be satisfied and leave me at the altar.”
Zevran gasps, putting a hand on his chest. “I would never!”
Aedan lifts Zevran’s other hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his fingers. “It’s all right, Zevran. I don’t mind the flirting.”
Zevran’s gut flips, bubbling with fondness and warmth as Aedan shoots him a wink and turns back to supper duties. He’s not sure what this sensation is, as it’s more than attraction, more than mere lust, and Zevran refuses to dwell on the feelings longer than necessary. They have a Blight to stop and he is not ready to consider matters beyond that. He will help this glorious man save Ferelden, and then he will consider what to do next. Obviously, he will have to deal with the Crows at some point, but he considers Aedan a friend, if nothing else. He doubts the Grey Warden will just abandon him in his time of need.
Especially considering how Aedan goes out of his way to help people with his own particular brand of chaos. Zevran is both baffled and amused every time Aedan gets involved. For one, Zevran fully understands the world and knows that heroes, true heroes do not exist. Thedas is a cruel and unforgiving place, and goodness gets crushed more often than not. But, more importantly, every time Aedan gets involved, something chaotic happens.
They were in a village, killing the raiding darkspawn, and were begged by a father to go into a trap-filled dungeon to rescue his daughter. Well, of course, Aedan had to go save the girl. That the girl was perfectly safe is entirely the wrong point, because she was safe due to a talking cat that was immediately clocked as possessed by a demon. Startling everyone, Aedan agreed to undue the traps holding the demon in the room. As soon as he had done so, Aedan turned on the demon, saying he never agreed to let the demon live. The girl ran off, scared by the pissed-off demon, and then Aedan slew the demon with little effort.
All he had to do was rescue the girl, and somehow, he ended up with a dead demon and a working golem.
Utter chaos, and Zevran adores it.
Zevran sits close to Aedan’s side as the camp settles down for supper. At first, it was just a way to be close to the only person in the group who trusted him, and Zevran still wanted to ingratiate himself with Aedan. Now, it has become habit. Even if Zevran was on watch, and therefore the last one to eat supper, the spot beside Aedan remains empty so Zevran can settle down beside him. Zevran doesn’t mind being so predictable, and he likes sitting beside Aedan – feeling his warmth, listening to his soft laugh, eating his delicious food – which is something he’s a little unaccustomed to.
He hasn’t been attached to another person since…
It doesn’t matter. He might enjoy Aedan’s company, but that is it. Aedan is merely the Grey Warden leader he has pledged himself to to survive. That he is charming, capable, and attractive notwithstanding. Zevran catches the knowing smirk from Leliana and steadfastly ignores it. He’s tried to bed Aedan – regularly, in fact – and still, the man is persistent with his vow. Zevran will convince him to tumble into a tent with him sooner or later. Hopefully, sooner, so that Zevran might sate his curiosity.
For now, Zevran sits beside Aedan, who is chatting amiably with Morrigan, while Zevran flirts outrageously with Wynne, mostly to make her roll her eyes and try to hide her laughter. She’s not interested in the slightest, but she still finds Zevran amusing, so he keeps flirting. Eventually, the evening wears down and Sten stands up to go begin the first watch. Alistair takes over cleaning duties, and Zevran gets to his feet, offering Aedan a hand upright.
Aedan grins and takes it. Despite the looming threat of the Blight and the constant vigilance for darkspawn, Aedan is so bright, so willing to smile and show his joy. It is both amusing and disarming. Zevran goes out of his way to say things just to get Aedan to smile or laugh, not least of which because Aedan’s laugh is infectious.
“Good night, everyone!” Aedan calls, while Zevran escorts him back to his tent. Zevran’s tent is beside Aedan’s, so it’s not precisely out of his way. Aedan pauses before entering his tent, still smiling at Zevran. “You don’t have to bring me back to my tent every night, you know.”
“And why should I not?” Zevran teases, lightly. “After all, you are my savior, my patron, and also quite handsome, if I do say so myself.”
Aedan laughs, but he averts his gaze, becoming shy. Zevran is immediately charmed, which is ridiculous because he’s flirted with shy people before and never been so taken by a blush. “I’m handsome? You’re practically a public menace.”
“It’s true. They used to issue warnings about me at the Antivan border. Ah, the good old days.”
Aedan chuckles and shakes his head. “Well, I appreciate the thought. Even if you’re just doing this to try to have sex with me.”
Zevran groans, doubling over in mock-pain. “You wound me, my Warden!”
“I very much doubt that,” Aedan snorts. “Why else would you be taking me back to my tent every single night for the past few months?”
“Well, now that we are alone…” Zevran puts on the most earnest and heart-felt expression he is capable of and drops down to one knee. “Aedan Cousland, darling Grey Warden, you have been the only person in my thoughts and dreams since we have met. You bring me low with your kindness and care. Would you do me the honor of marrying me?”
That Aedan bursts out laughing should probably be an insult, but Zevran cannot help but grin at the sound.
“Good night, Zevran,” Aedan says, still grinning.
“Zev to my friends,” Zevran corrects. He finds himself genuinely meaning it. Aedan is, if nothing else, his friend. Perhaps one day more, but for now, that friendship is more valuable to Zevran than he is willing to admit aloud.
Aedan’s smile is soft. “Good night, Zev.”
If Zevran’s heart is pounding when he goes to his tent, unfortunately alone, no one needs to know.
Zevran doesn’t understand why he’s holding hands with Aedan. Yes, it’s because Aedan suggested it – voice soft and a little shy and completely adorable – and yes, Zevran likes it – a lot – but he doesn’t understand why. The hand-holding prevents either one of them from being effective if they are to be attacked, because they’re too close together and they’ll have to untangle their fingers before they can reach for their weapons, but Maker preserve him, Zevran likes this.
He has not a single clue why. Other than it makes warmth bubble within his chest, fondness filling him when he catches the tiny smile on Aedan’s lips, heart racing the tiniest bit at the closeness, and knowing that Aedan cannot go anywhere without him. None of these reasons make any sense whatsoever, so Zevran should stop just letting his fingers get entangled with Aedan’s, but that would upset Aedan, and Zevran will do unconscionable things to keep a smile on Aedan’s face.
They’re walking through Orzammar, headed to the Proving Grounds to manage some political nonsense for the dwarves, and Zevran cannot bring himself to let go, no matter how shifty some of these dwarves are. Zevran ignores the giggling from Leliana, the knowing looks from Wynne, the blushing from Alistair, the eye rolls from Morrigan, and the… stoicness from Sten? Regardless, their companions have not said a word about this new development of hand-holding, not even Shale, and the golem has never found a question it is unwilling to ask. Aedan leads their merry band of misfits through the dwarven halls with a bright grin, fingers tightening around Zevran’s as they approach the Proving Master.
Zevran tightens his grip on Aedan in response, because the man is not going anywhere without him.
Aedan gets drawn into joining these Provings, and single-handedly takes on every challenge the dwarves throw at him. It is at once terrifying and excruciatingly attractive. The first couple bouts are as expected – a one-on-one battle in which Aedan triumphs over and over – but then they start adding more people. When Aedan takes on four opponents at once by himself, Zevran does not breathe for the entirety of the match, sitting on the edge of his seat with his heart pounding. It’s only when the last dwarf falls and Aedan is still standing, triumphantly, that Zevran remembers to breathe.
Zevran does not know why he is suddenly so anxious. It’s not like the bouts were to the death or anything, with medics on hand for the bruises and injuries. Besides which, Aedan is Zevran’s friend, but he is quite the capable warrior. He can manage himself with a sword and shield just fine. And, Zevran has become friends with everyone else in the party, so it’s not like they would kill him or abandon him just because Aedan was injured. But, Zevran couldn’t stop himself from being absolutely terrified that Aedan would lose and, in some freak accident, perish.
Ridiculous.
Zevran is getting unduly attached to the man. It’s likely because he’s quite attracted to Aedan, with no promise of more in sight. Every time Zevran pokes and prods, trying to see if Aedan will even bend his vow, just a bit (after all, receiving oral sex hardly counts as proper sex, no?) Aedan merely laughs at him, more amused and flattered than anything else. And Aedan… well, Zevran is very good at reading other people, and can tell at a glance that Aedan is attracted to him. And why not? Zevran is beautiful, he knows this well, and he’s quite charming, and he is very good at sex.
If only he could convince Aedan, then they would have such wonderful nights of pleasure together.
When Aedan rejoins them, still sweaty with some blood on his armor from nicks and cuts, and grinning like an idiot, Zevran feels the overwhelming urge to kiss the man. It’s utterly insane, so Zevran holds himself back. Aedan tugs a gauntlet off and pushes his hair off his forehead, accepting all the congratulations from the dwarves around them with a cheery wave.
“That was very… bracing,” Zevran tells him. “And quite the show, if the swooning ladies were any indication.”
“Only the ladies swooned?” Aedan teases. “Then I wasn’t trying hard enough.”
“Oh, I would have swooned, make no mistake, but I could hardly tear my eyes off you to take the necessary steps to fall into Leliana’s bosom dramatically,” Zevran replies.
“Zevran was on the edge of his seat,” Leliana says, betraying Zevran utterly with a mere handful of words. “I do not think he breathed while you were fighting.”
Aedan’s grin gains a fond edge to it, the barest hint of shy as well. “Nervous for me, Zev?”
“Nonsense.” Zevran waves the words away. “I knew my darling Warden would defeat all his opponents handily. He is quite the marvelous specimen, you see. So devastatingly attractive in all ways.”
“Especially when I’m fighting, right?” Aedan keeps teasing, and it might be a bit too much for Zevran’s mind. The man is kind and charming and funny and the embodiment of pure chaos and also a talented fighter and also flirtatious. Zevran either has to bed the man or run away from him, and both options are looking fairly reasonable at the moment.
“Oh, yes,” Zevran breathes out, eyes trailing appreciatively over the cut and fit of Aedan’s armor. Being noble born, his armor was handmade for him, and Maker’s breath, does it look good. “But alas, we are in public, and I feel that showing my… appreciation of your talents in public would make you quite uncomfortable, yes?”
Aedan flushes and rolls his eyes with a grin. “Such a tease.”
“Alas, my darling Warden never takes me up on the offer.” Zevran reaches forward and takes Aedan’s hand, slotting their fingers together in a way that has become increasingly familiar and comfortable. Aedan’s smile gets shy, and he looks down, still blushing madly and making Zevran want to kiss him more and more with every passing moment. Zevran is going to have to convince Aedan to move past this vow of chastity before he loses his sanity entirely. “I shall just have to marry him, take him off the market so he eventually gives in to my wily ways.”
Aedan chuckles. “Is that your proposal?”
Zevran shakes his head and drops down to one knee, still holding tightly to Aedan's hand. He presses a kiss to Aedan’s fingers and looks back up at his blushing Warden, heedless of the murmuring from their dwarven audience. Perhaps they can learn the meaning of true romance. And, if Zevran is lucky, the adrenaline filling Aedan’s body will convince him to give in and break the vow keeping the two of them apart.
He’s not anticipating it working right now, considering their audience, but perhaps the social pressure will actually assist Zevran in this endeavor. Though, Zevran cannot think of an instance in which Aedan has allowed society to pressure him into anything. Nevertheless, he has to try, for his own sanity.
“Darling, I know we have not known each other long, but I know that you would make me the happiest man in Thedas if you would only agree to marry me, to live the rest of our lives together in happiness and extreme pleasure. Aedan, will you marry me?”
Aedan bursts out laughing and leads the group out of the Proving Ground, tugging gently on Zevran’s hand to keep him close. It’s intoxicating, being so wanted. Zevran will physically fight people to keep this place beside his darling Aedan.
It’s later that night, when Zevran has finished cleaning up after yet another delicious supper courtesy of Aedan, that he settles down on the ground beside Aedan, who is waiting patiently for Zevran to finish so they can walk back to their tents together. Because Zevran still has not stopped escorting his Warden the meager dozen feet to his tent. That they hold hands while walking that distance is irrelevant.
Zevran reaches over to tangle his fingers with Aedan’s, all too addicted to the sensation already, though he should really stop, lest he get unduly attached. Well, Zevran has never been particularly good at denying himself pleasure. Aedan lets out a little happy sigh and shuffles closer, so their sides are pressed together.
“You know, I used to dream about being a Grey Warden,” Aedan murmurs.
“And here you are, living your dream,” Zevran replies, keeping his voice low.
“Somehow,” Aedan lets out an unamused snort, “this is not what I pictured when I was a child.”
“What? Living on the road with a group of misfits and the entire world against you while trying to build up an army to defeat a Blight?” Zevran teases. “If you had pictured this as a child, I would be very worried about your sensibilities, my friend.”
Aedan chuckles and Zevran lets himself lean into his side a little more. Aedan sighs again. “Well, it’s not what I imagined, but that doesn't mean it’s bad.”
“No? All of Ferelden wishes to kill you, and this is not bad?” Zevran asks, shooting Aedan a bewildered look.
“No,” Aedan replies simply. His fingers squeeze at Zevran, and Zevran’s heart stutters in response. Zevran shuffles closer and leans his head on Aedan’s shoulder. Aedan rests his head on Zevran’s, both of them falling silent, breathing in the cool night air, and watching the fire slowly die.
This is very comfortable, and Zevran’s not entirely sure what this means for the future, but he hopes this feeling never goes away.
Zevran’s not sure what he was expecting, following his sweet Aedan around Denerim, but he most certainly was not expecting to run into Taliesin, of all people. In Ferelden.
His heart stops in his chest, stomach turning to stone, and he carefully detangles his fingers from Aedan’s, knowing all too well what Taliesin is capable of – what he has done and what he is willing to do just to get ahead. Aedan can tell that something is wrong, having long since learned Zevran’s quirks (particularly how Zevran refuses to be the first one to let go when they’re holding hands). Aedan has no idea who the man at the top of the stairs is, but he knows Zevran, so he shifts his weight to be more stable, hands reaching back the tiniest bit as he prepares to go for his sword and shield.
The instant Zevran speaks Taliesin’s name aloud, he can feel Aedan tense up.
Zevran isn’t quite sure how Aedan managed to get Zevran’s personal sob story out of him, but he cannot regret telling the man, not when he’s the person Zevran is devoted to. Zevran knows that it’s foolish, having such intense feelings for a man he’s known not even a full year yet, but Aedan is a force of nature, gently peeling back all the layers that Zevran uses to keep himself hidden, until Zevran willingly told Aedan all his secrets.
Zevran’s masters would have a fit if they knew he fell for a pretty face. Again.
Still, this time is different. Zevran can’t quite put his finger on why, but he knows in his bones that this nebulous something with Aedan is somehow more than anything he had with Taliesin or Rinna. Aedan is genuinely kind in a way that Zevran has slowly had to get used to, but also frightfully protective of his companions in a way that Zevran is utterly unaccustomed to. Given the opportunity, Aedan will fight on the front lines for any of his companions without even being asked. Right here, right now, in some back alley in Denerim, Zevran just knows that Aedan is willing to throw himself headfirst at an Antivan Crow, not because said Crow is threatening to kill him, but because that Crow is threatening to kill Zevran.
Granted, Taliesin has not done such in so many words, trying to convince Zevran to come back with him, back to the place that made Zevran who he is today, and tested him time and time again for merely existing. The place Zevran never had any choice about – growing up as an orphan, stealing to survive, living in a whorehouse, and then bought as a slave by the Antivan Crows, beaten and trained and forced into killing when he was much too young for such a thing.
That Zevran is good at it, and genuinely enjoys it, is completely irrelevant. Spending time with Aedan, talking to the darling man, has given Zevran fresh perspective on the matter. He is an assassin, and he’s good at it, and he enjoys it, but that is in spite of what the Crows did to him, not because of them.
The problem with Taliesin’s plan is that it requires there be no witnesses. And since that leads directly to his Aedan’s demise, Zevran is not about to let that happen.
Taliesin is appalled when Zevran declares such, looking at his Warden and just knowing that this man has more loyalty for a Crow who tried to kill him than any Crow has for Zevran, despite the long and storied history he has within the organization. Zevran could do no less for the man who has without hesitation stepped between Zevran and danger at every turn.
Zevran might be an assassin with loose morals, but he at least has a conscience. And Aedan has been unwavering in his support. Besides, more importantly, Zevran cannot let anything happen to his Aedan, because then he won’t have this marvelous hand-holding thing they keep doing. Nor the soft conversations late into the night as they gaze into the fire, or up at the stars. Nor the short walks back to their tent where Aedan murmurs a sweet “good night, Zev” that makes Zevran’s heart pound in his chest.
Yes, Zevran is aware that he’s feeling far more than simple attraction towards his darling Warden. Yes, he’s planning on doing something about it (what, he’s not entirely sure, having been forced into this new territory, but he’s going to try). But first, he has to protect his Aedan.
Zevran sprints up the stairs, daggers all but flying to his hands, as he moves to protect the one person who has never given up on him and will never give up on him. Taliesin is as aggressive and talented as he has always been, large and strong with an intimidating presence – it was his role when it was the three of them. It hurts, fighting against the man he used to care so much for, but after Rinna… Zevran thought part of himself had died with her. Before Aedan.
Taliesin knocks Zevran back and before Zevran can regain his feet, Aedan slides between them, shield and sword at the ready. Zevran cannot see his face, has no idea what he’s thinking at the moment, but he can see the shock and surprise on Taliesin’s face when Aedan snarls, voice low and deadly, “get away from him”.
The next few moments are some of the most harrowing of Zevran’s life – considering his childhood, that is no mean feat – as Aedan slams his shield into Taliesin’s shoulder, shoving him almost to the ground. Zevran moves forward, joints like liquid, to get around Aedan to, at the very least, nick or cut Taliesin. A simple scrape and Zevran will have poisoned him. Unfortunately, Taleisin knows Zevran as well as Zevran knows him, and dances back, keeping Zevran at a careful distance.
Taliesin is not faster than Zevran is, never has been, but he’s careful. Unfortunately, he’s also dealing with an absolutely feral Aedan at the moment. Zevran has never seen his Warden move with such aggressiveness, such violence, as when he stalks towards Taleisin. Cursing under his breath, and with his heart in his throat, Zevran turns to the other Crows, helping their other companions take down the myriad of other assassins. Taliesin is the most dangerous enemy here, but they can’t take him out if they get shot in the back. Zevran is just going to have to trust his Aedan to handle Taliesin. Because, he does trust him.
After handling the other Crows, Zevran forces himself to look back at the duel between Warden and Crow. He’s startled to see Aedan standing over a kneeling Taliesin. His shield is on the ground, long forgotten, and his hand is buried in Taliesin’s hair, tugging his head back in a painful grip. His sword is at Taliesin’s throat, and there’s already a tiny line of blood there.
“Do you want him to live?” Aedan asks, voice still rough with that edge of danger. A shiver creeps up Zevran’s spine, though he’s not afraid of his darling Warden. He should probably be concerned that he finds this particular situation arousing rather than disturbing, but that’s beside the point.
“If he lives, we will still be marks for the Crows,” Zevran says, approaching slowly. He looks down at his former lover, searching for something – anything – that reminds him of the man he once was so fond of. He sees nothing but contempt and hate and irritation in Taliesin’s eyes. It hurts, but it also solidifies Zevran’s resolve. He used to adore Rinna and dote on Taliesin, and Taliesin only saw the two of them as means to an end.
Zevran has his dagger in Taliesin’s throat before the Crow can even move towards the dagger in his boot. Aedan releases his grip on Taliesin and they watch impassively as he collapses in a heap, dead.
Zevran looks up at Aedan, opening his mouth to say something – explain himself maybe – but he’s startled silent when Aedan steps forward, dropping his sword to the ground. Aedan’s hands cup Zevran’s face with so much tenderness that Zevran forgets to breathe, and then Aedan kisses him and Zevran’s mind completely stops working.
Aedan has no form or finesse, as he’s probably never kissed anyone before in his life, but he has passion, and Zevran has to lean into Aedan’s chest to keep his feet under him, knees turning to pudding thanks to the sheer overwhelming relief and adoration pouring from Aedan.
“You’re incredible,” Aedan murmurs.
Zevran feels like he’s been punched in the gut and his heart stutters in his chest. “Aedan… will you marry me?”
The words come out on their own – he’s not planning to say anything of the sort. He was intending to explain that he’s free of the Crows now, that he can go anywhere and do anything, and he has freedom finally. But instead, all he can think of is the fierce way Aedan immediately jumped to action, the way in which he kept Taliesin alive so Zevran could make the decision about him, the desperate way Aedan kissed him…
Aedan bursts out laughing, which is not the reaction anyone hopes for when proposing marriage.
“You always know how to cheer me up,” Aedan says, pulling Zevran into a tight embrace.
It’s then that Zevran realizes he was probably too zealous in his previous attempts to bed his darling Aedan, because the man couldn’t tell a real proposal from a lust-filled one.
Zevran thinks that he may go mad and that, if he does, it will all be Aedan’s fault. After all, Aedan is the one who saved his life when, by all rights, he should have killed Zevran. Aedan is the one who befriended Zevran with soft words and a charming laugh. Aedan is the one who started holding his hand, which is just ridiculous and inconceivable. And then, Aedan has the audacity to kiss Zevran!
And keep kissing him.
What started as a passionate embrace borne of bone-deep relief has shifted into something gentle and comforting and sweet.
It’s utterly disgusting.
And Zevran will fight people to keep kissing Aedan.
Even without the promise of more, Zevran is hooked – addicted to his Aedan like he’s the finest of wines, the richest of drugs. Zevran is the one who keeps tangling their fingers together, keeps silently demanding that connection, but Aedan… Aedan is the fool who keeps pulling Zevran closer to press a quick kiss to Zevran’s cheek, to drop a kiss on Zevran’s forehead whenever they have to part ways, to steal all the air from Zevran’s lungs because he “looked so sweet” that Aedan just had to taste him to find out if he tasted the way he looked.
Zevran knows he is in love with his darling Aedan, and he knows that Aedan cares very much for Zevran, far beyond his affections for their other companions, but never did he think he would be driven mad with this relentless adoration.
Zevran cannot decide if he wants more or not. Well, that’s not strictly true. Yes, Zevran would adore having sex with Aedan – pleasuring the man and teaching him all the different ways his body can experience true ecstasy – but part of him also selfishly does not want to have sex. In all Zevran’s experiences, sex is a pleasurable physical connection with no attachment or meaning to it. And why should there be? Sex is natural and wonderful and desperately sought out by many individuals.
But love? True feelings of affection and care and fondness beyond that of simple friendship? Experiencing feelings at all?
In Zevran’s experience, the people who feel during sex are the ones most likely to be taken advantage of. And the last thing he wants is to take advantage of his sweet Aedan. Especially since so many people are trying to take advantage of him right now.
The Landsmeet is perhaps the most egregious showing of how different Ferelden politics are from Antivan. Or Orlesian. It’s far more aggressive and blunt, for one. Loghain has tied a few arls up in his dealings, but Aedan truly shines during this meeting – showing how he was raised to be one of them. And, given all the horrific things Loghain was trying to do under the cover of darkness, Aedan stands tall, every bit the teryn he was meant to be. He walks the line of politics rather well, considering he is a Grey Warden and, therefore, has no authority in the Landsmeet at all.
Just about nothing goes according to plan, with Aedan deciding to conscript Loghain, Alistair throwing a colossal fit and storming off, and then all the teryns and arls banding together to promise support for Queen Anora and gathering an army to defeat the rising darkspawn. Aedan gets trapped in the conversation and shoots Zevran a look, one that asks him to go find Alistair, possibly calm him down if he can.
Zevran finds Alistair outside, breathing in the cool air and muttering to himself furiously. Zevran’s able to convince Alistair to at least hear Aedan out, get all the details of why he would make such a decision before abandoning his duties as a Grey Warden, and escorts Alistair back to Arl Eamon’s estate. The rest of their companions filter back to the estate, with Riordan and Loghain coming together, though Loghain appears pale and a little woozy on his feet, and eventually, finally, Aedan walks through the doors, escorting Arl Eamon with him.
Aedan says his goodnights to their companions and then pulls Alistair to a quiet room to explain himself. Zevran watches from the shadows, having slipped into the room behind them, while Alistair rages, livid beyond reason, and Aedan responds with quiet words of calm authority. The betrayal of Loghain is almost too much for Alistair to bear, but then Aedan reminds Alistair of their jobs as Grey Wardens – to kill the archdemon, even at the expense of their own life.
Zevran jerks in shock. Apparently, only Grey Wardens can kill an archdemon because only they have the taint that will allow them to kill said archdemon, but they will inevitably lose their own life in the process.
Aedan talks Alistair down and sends him off to bed.
“When were you going to tell me that you need to sacrifice your own life to save us all?” Zevran asks.
Aedan huffs out a humorless laugh. “I only just found out about it myself.”
Zevran blinks. “They did not tell you before you joined them?”
Aedan shakes his head. Zevran looks his Aedan over, wanting to be surprised or upset about this unfortunate turn of events, but all he can focus on is how tired his darling looks. He looks miserable – dark circles under his eyes, weariness dripping off him, all but sagging under the weight of his responsibilities. Zevran’s heart clenches uncomfortably in his chest. He’s got to get his Aedan to a bed soon, get some food in him, maybe some drink, and help him relax. Nothing about today was easy, especially considering they had to confront the man who murdered everyone Aedan loved and then had to go handle a slew of politics just to get people to agree that the darkspawn are, in fact, a problem.
“Come along, mi amor,” Zevran murmurs, reaching forward to tangle his fingers with Aedan’s, “let’s get you to a bed. You look exhausted.”
Aedan huffs out a soft laugh and shrugs his agreement. Zevran escorts Aedan upstairs, holding him up more and more with every weary step. Inside the room, Morrigan is waiting for him, patiently watching the fire. Aedan’s shoulders straighten and Zevran realizes how much of a strong front Aedan puts on, even for his friends. Zevran can tell at a glance that Morrigan wishes to speak to Aedan alone, so he squeezes gently at Aedan’s hands.
“I shall get some food and drink, shall I?” He offers, gently.
“Thank you, love.” Aedan presses a kiss to Zevran’s forehead and reluctantly lets go of his hand, turning to face Morrigan fully. Zevran goes down to the kitchens to beg the cook for some scraps of food. He flirts generously with her when she gives him a platter full of meats, cheeses, breads, and a bowlful of hearty stew as well as a mug of rich ale to wash it all down with. The cook is charmed by him, as most people are, and laughs, swatting him away to “go care for your young man”. Zevran bows to her and goes back upstairs to his Aedan.
He passes by a furious Morrigan on his way, but decides to say nothing, lest she turn him into something unpleasant for merely existing near her.
Zevran hesitates in the doorway, heart in his throat. Aedan is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking like a puppet whose strings have been cut – limp and barely holding himself together. Zevran steps inside and locks the door behind him. If nothing else, he’s going to make sure his darling Aedan gets a good night’s rest tonight. Zevran settles the tray on the bed beside Aedan and sinks to his knees in front of him, tangling their hands together.
“You need to eat and rest,” Zevran tells him. Aedan’s lips quirk up in the tiniest smile. He pulls gently on Zevran’s arms, and Zevran follows willingly. Aedan searches Zevran’s face for something and then his smile widens, looking genuinely happy for the first time since they set foot in the city. Zevran’s expecting the kiss this time, and he all but melts into the contact, trying to show Aedan just how much he cares.
“Stay?” Aedan asks, voice soft.
“Always, mi amor.”
Zevran ends up seated at the headboard of the bed with Aedan’s head in his lap, feeding little bits of food to his Warden with one hand while his other hand cards gently through Aedan’s dark hair. Aedan sinks into relaxation, moaning softly as his eyes flutter shut. Zevran thinks idly that he could do this for the rest of his life and be happy. He will travel with his Aedan, killing people and darkspawn, and Aedan will make them delicious food that Zevran will take great pleasure in feeding to Aedan. And he needs nothing else.
There is only one thing left to do.
“Mi amor…” Zevran murmurs.
Aedan hums a question in response, slowly blinking his eyes open. When he spots Zevran’s fond expression, a lazy smile crosses over his face, making him look so far beyond beautiful that Zevran’s breath catches in his throat.
“Marry me?”
Aedan’s smile brightens to a grin and he chuckles under his breath.
“We’re on the cusp of saving the world,” Aedan replies. “And all you think about is trying to make me laugh. Maker, I love you.”
Zevran curses his own stupidity. Nothing short of a full-blown romantic declaration will convince Aedan he’s trying legitimately to marry the man.
He knows what he has to do. Unfortunately, he’s got to help end the Blight first.
Zevran steps back and surveys his work. The blanket is spread out across the soft grass, carefully nestled between the roots of a great tree. The flowers are in full bloom around the pond, and the picnic basket is settled right in place, complete with a bottle of wine. The clearing is littered with every candle Zevran could get his hands on, giving the whole area a soft, warm glow. He’s got the earring in his pocket, right next to the ring. He’s already practiced exactly what to say, and now he just needs Aedan to show up.
The world has settled down, what with the archdemon dying and sending the rest of the darkspawn scurrying back to the Deep Roads. The Grey Warden order is limited to the two of them, but Queen Anora has given over the Arling of Amaranthine to them for rebuilding purposes. There is a lot of paperwork still to handle before the place is officially turned over, and the Grey Wardens in Weisshaupt are sending people to assist in rebuilding efforts, but it’s going to happen eventually.
Right now, they’re in the quiet after the storm, before responsibilities start up again. The other companions all have plans for the future now that they’re miraculously not dead, but only Alistair and Aedan plan on staying in Ferelden. Well, and Zevran, but that’s because he’s not leaving his Warden.
Zevran takes a deep breath and looks around at the quiet picnic he set up, at a small pond just outside Highever. Aedan told him about this spot months ago – how nobody really knew of its existence and he used to escape his responsibilities at home to sit on the shore, throwing pebbles and playing with Barkspawn – and Zevran just knew it was the perfect place for him to enact his plan of properly romancing Aedan.
Zevran mutters the words he’s been practicing and paces. He’s not usually this impatient, but to be fair, he’s been trying to marry his Aedan for a year now. Aedan is probably catching up with his brother, the new Teryn of Highever. As it turns out, Fergus survived the Battle of Ostagar, but his wounds took a long time to heal, so he was out in the Korcari Wilds with the Chasind until he recovered. Aedan has taken every opportunity to spend time with his brother. Zevran feels the slightest bit guilty for tearing Aedan away, even for one evening, but he has to propose to his darling lest he really lose his mind.
Zevran hears the excited barking from Barkspawn long before he hears Aedan’s bright laughter. The sound brings a smile to Zevran’s face, as it always does, and then the mabari bounds into the clearing, wriggling all over in excitement. Barkspawn has known about Zevran’s plans since the beginning, because Zevran used the dog as a sounding board for all his ideas. Not that he expected Barkspawn to have opinions of his own, but more so Zevran could say the ideas out loud and decide how he liked them.
That Barkspawn did have opinions is irrelevant.
Aedan walks around the bend and freezes in place, eyes wide as he takes in the scene before him. Zevran planned this very carefully, to have Aedan meet him at sunset, which makes the pond and surrounding clearing glow in the twilight. Zevran underestimated how that ethereal lighting would look on his darling Warden, because Aedan looks gorgeous. Zevran forgets how to breathe for a moment, just caught up in the sheer glory that is his Aedan.
A bright grin spreads over Aedan’s face and he remembers how to walk, hurrying over to Zevran’s side with stumbling feet. Zevran does not get a chance to even say anything, because Aedan pulls him close and kisses Zevran like he will never have another chance. (Zevran is going to do everything in his power to ensure that Aedan will have all the chances to kiss him.) Zevran slides his arms around Aedan’s waist, clinging tightly to him to keep him from retreating.
“What’s all this?” Aedan asks, softly, pressing their foreheads together.
“A romantic picnic for the man who holds my heart and affections,” Zevran replies.
Aedan’s smile is so broad it looks almost painful, and Zevran presses up on his toes to kiss him again. Aedan’s arms tighten around Zevran, so Zevran could not escape even if he were foolish enough to want to. Zevran waves down at the picnic basket.
“I brought food and wine, should you wish to eat, drink, and be merry.”
Aedan kisses Zevran again, like he cannot help himself, and reluctantly steps back, turning to look at the glorious picnic Zevran has set up. “Shall we sit?”
“First…” Zevran’s tongue gets tied up in his mouth and he feels like a fool, stuttering over his words. He thrusts the earring at Aedan, Aedan who knows all his secrets and hasn’t left him, Aedan who smiles when he sees Zevran, like Zevran is a joy to be around.
“Is that an earring?” Aedan smiles down at the piece of jewelry, though his brows are furrowed in confusion.
Haltingly, Zevran explains the significance – how it came from his first job, how he found it beautiful and took it for himself, and how it now feels right to gift it to Aedan – especially since it has meant so much to Zevran. Aedan’s smile turns soft as Zevran speaks, looking down at the earring like it is more than a mere hunk of metal with jewels on it.
“Thank you, love,” Aedan murmurs, before stealing another kiss.
“Anyway, thank you for everything, mi amor. There is… no better way to say it.” Zevran resolutely turns to the basket, ready to pour himself a drink for suffering through that horrific speech. He thought all that practice would’ve been helpful, but he got tongue-tied anyway.
He feels Aedan shift behind him, gently tugging on Zevran’s wrist before he can do so much as sit down. When Zevran turns, he is shocked to see Aedan on one knee, holding up a golden ring to the waning sunlight.
“Zev, I’m not good at speeches, not like you are, but I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, running around, killing monsters, and being with you until the end of my days. I know you’ve proposed a million times, so here’s one more: Zevran, my love, will you marry me?”
Zevran’s mouth hangs open as words fail him entirely. When he remembers that he has to actually respond, he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “Truly? I’m the one you want? Forever? Did you hit your head somewhere?”
Aedan bursts out laughing and shakes his head. “That’s not an answer, love.”
“How dare you?” Zevran tries to puff up in irritation, but he’s so relieved that he cannot manage to do so without a truly moronic grin on his face. “I was about to propose to you! Again.” Zevran pulls the ring out of his pocket to show Aedan. Aedan’s grin softens and he presses a kiss to Zevran’s palm.
“Is that a ‘yes’?” He asks, hopefully.
Zevran knows that Aedan always has the worst responses to being proposed to, what with all the laughing and joking and teasing, but it’s probably a better response than tackling Aedan to the ground, the way Zevran does.
Aedan laughs and wraps his arms tightly around Zevran, holding him close while Zevran peppers his Warden with kisses. Zevran steals all the air from Aedan’s lungs and then leans up to smirk down at his Aedan.
“You don’t just want to marry me to steal my virtue, right?”
Aedan’s laughter echoes through the clearing and makes Zevran’s heart soar. Barkspawn bounds around them, barking happily. Eventually, Zevran has to get off Aedan, and he reluctantly sits up to pour them both a glass of wine. Aedan snuggles up to Zevran’s side, gleefully demanding to exchange their rings.
“We’re not married yet,” Zevran points out as he willingly puts the ring on.
“Yet,” Aedan emphasizes, grinning brightly.
Zevran steals a kiss and digs into the picnic basket, getting things ready so he can feed his Aedan. Aedan pulls on Zevran, trying to deepen the kiss into the more that Zevran has been hoping for since they met.
“You do want to steal my virtue!” Zevran teases.
“Only if you’re amenable to that,” Aedan tells him.
“What about your vow?” Zevran has no intention of breaking Aedan’s vow. He’s waited this long, he can keep waiting.
“If we’re engaged to be married, I’m going to count that as ‘close enough’,” Aedan replies.
“Impatient?”
Aedan chuckles and steals a heated kiss. “We could always wait until the wedding night instead.”
“Oh, it is your vow that I am trying to protect, mi amor,” Zevran replies. “It is a sacred vow – one you made to your mother and the Maker and to yourself. We must wait.”
“I never thought we’d come to this — you wanting to wait and me not wanting to.”
“Oh, I will gladly pleasure you until you are delirious with ecstasy,” Zevran replies, rolling off Aedan, “however, you have been steadfast in your vow. I would hate for you to break it so close to its fulfillment.”
Aedan groans, flopping bonelessly on the ground, muttering about how stupid he is to make such a stupid vow. Zevran laughs and plies Aedan with wine and food, celebrating as best they can. He’s waited this long, he can wait a little longer for his love.