Remembering Taliesen

by nugkisses

In the Aftermath of the fight with Taliesen, Zevran comes to terms with the loss. When someone breaks, they must learn to pick up the pieces and keep going or break beyond repair. Zevran learned how, Taliesen did not, and the elf consoles himself with Brandy and one last toast to the memory of a childhood friend. Trigger warning: Mention of suicide.

Zevran sat out on the Balcony of the Inn, swirling the bit of brandy left in the bottom of his glass. The elfs usually alert posture was slouched over the table, looking into the alcohol as though it had the answers. Taliesen was dead. All he could do now was sit with it in resignation.

This was going to be another one of those 'bitter medicines' he was going to have to swallow. He looks out into the quiet streets where not even the alley cats lingered as his mind traveled the path of old memories.

Taliesen had been his best friend since he was eight. He had also been the first person Zevran had climbed into bed with by choice as opposed to seducing someone for the necessity of a contract. They had fought, bled, burned , conned and loved together. In a place of cutthroats and murder and slavery and abuse the man had become an ally and sometimes lover. It was all gone. Zevran wished that there had been some way besides killing Taliesen. Maybe convincing the Crow to join them...something. Anything. But he was going to have to let go. Taliesen was one of those friends you couldn't talk down or up. Zevran had tried many times over the years. The man had been just as guilty as Zevran over Rinna, but had shouldered it differently, shut it away until it was poison in the blood. The Crows would not have sent Taliesen after him, they would have dragged Zevran back and then have Taliesen slit his throat like he had Rinna's. Just to break Taliesen to heel.

So he understood why Taliesen had done what he did. Why he had come to see Zevran as his 'grey Warden' as it were. Why Taliesen had played the same cards as Zevran when he first came to Ferelden. The others were easily fooled by the Crow's words, but they had not seen the man break at Zevran's side over Rinna's corpse as Zevran glared at Rinna, heart angry, but numb. There was nothing he could do. Taliesen had pushed him into a corner until it was slit the man's throat or forfeit his own life.

Between leaving Antiva and Taliesen's death, Zevran had broken apart, and then learned how to pick everything up and put it back together. Taliesen had not, and so he was gone. He told himself as many times as he needed to for it to sink in. There was nothing he could do. He knew Taliesen. If it had not been by his hand, it would have been by Taliesen's own hand. There was nothing he could do.

Once the memories faded with the slow rise of the sun, Zevran toasted the last of the brandy to the rising sun of warm gold, gold like the memories he would treasure. "To you, my friend. Tell Rinna I'm sorry for me. I don't plan to see either of you soon." Then threw the drink back, and stepped inside to sleep.