{Reunion}
Sad angst here. I feel that, after Zevran has traveled for years to do what he feels he must against the crows, and after everything that happens to the Warden in Awakening and the Witch Hunt DLC that they would both have changed, and it would need some work for them to get back together.
An old version of my Warden who is a Dalish Warrior named Hearon Mahariel. Yuki 'snow' is Zevran's nickname for her. Also the earring in the locket is one of my head cannons. The necklace also contains the vial of blood used in the joining - a mix of tree things on the wardens person during the game.
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The gates of the Keep opened for them, the guards atop seeing their approach as the wind quickened. They creaked as they swung, the wood stretched with the bad weather which hung over Ferelden.
Herself and Nathaniel rode along side one another, their mounts as frozen as they were. The temperature had dropped significantly since the morning, when they'd set out riding for the woodland to hunt with their bows. A cloak and weighted hood clung to her cobalt and silver wardens armour as she lowered her head, held the reins right and trusted her grey mare to walk in the right direction.
Nathaniel made a short, sharp hissing sound from beside her. Both loved to be outside the Keep walls but hours in the worsening storm had pushed them both passed their tolerance limits. Her exposed skin burned, and she knew it would only get worse once she got inside - like when her and Tamlen used to spend too much time in the snow before returning to the Camp.
The torches which lit the Keeps grounds were welcoming, a sight she was becoming used to. The stable boy met them near the blacksmith fires to collect the horses reins to lead them away.
"We best get inside," Nathaniel spoke now that the wind was less wild, paused by the high stone walls around them.
Mahariel nodded, never have been one to talk much. Even since her time growing up in her clan. That was why herself and Tamlen had taken so well to one another in the beginning - they could traverse the woodlands and not feel the need to fill the silence with endless chatter like humans did. Still, she had become used to Alistairs rambles and had come to like hearing the banter between her old party during their time together in the fifth blight.
She supposed that was also why, even after their rocky start, her and Nathaniel had become good friends. They were much a like, in some ways and he didn't blame her for letting Loghain live, as Alistiar did.
"Warden Commander!" Called a scout from the wall. "There's a wanderer at the gates, claiming he is a friend of yours."
She exchanged a look with Nathaniel, who frowned at her and then the dark gates.
"Open them," she returned. "Let them in," the scout nodded, and rushed to the levers.
"Are you sure?" Nathaniel started. After their run in with the architect, he was even less trusting than when he'd first arrived.
"Only a fool would approach the gates alone if they were in fact, not what they said themselves to be," she told him, strong in her conviction.
The men called to each other to pull the levers which opened the gates from above as she neared from below. A whip of air rushed through the gap, throwing her hood backwards. Her waved white hair flicked over her forehead, before dropping into her dark blue eyes once more.
The opening widened as the gates swung inwards to reveal the wanderer who claimed to be 'friend'. He was hidden beneath a worn brown cloak. Stood a head higher than herself, she knew it was a man before he could speak. He stood silent, even as she stared at him, only a few metres away.
"Who be you?" She questioned, not immediately recognising him. "And what business do have with the Wardens?"
"You do not recognise me?" She saw a flash of teeth which made up a saddened grin but a gust of wind at that moment had stollen most of his voice, meaning she had barely heard him.
"Not with your features hidden, no," her lips thinned. She did not like games.
"I am not here for the Wardens," he murmured, his voice just above a whisper. "I am here for you, my Yuki."
It took her just a second for his words to sink in, then it felt as if she'd been thrown straight into the storm that was brewing further in the distance. No words were able to escape her mouth as he lifted his leather gauntlet hands and removed the hood obscuring his face.
His tanned, tattooed face was familiar and yet aged from the years apart. The golden eyes which captivated her so were darker from events that had come to pass; things she had not been present for, things she did not know about him. His golden brown hair was longer, passed his shoulders now and unkempt from his journey. There were remnants of new battles on his face, which seemed to be frozen in a stoney mask.
"Zevran," she said his name, one she hadn't felt upon her tongue in so long. It felt strange, so much had happened, had changed since he'd left, leaving only a note in his place.
A shadow passed over his face. It took only a few steps before she felt his arms over her shoulders, pulling her against his chest. The archers locked their arrows, she heard the click and tensed. Moving from her once lovers arms, she looked up and ordered, "Stand down! He threatens no harm to me."
The scouts lowered their aims. She looked back to Zevran, who was wearing an emotional mask once again. Like the first time they had met. It was painful to see, and yet expected.
"Come inside. You must be tired from your travels and this storm will only worsen as the night goes on," as if to illustrate her point, the clouds parted to release a pent up downpour.
It dotted their skin in little droplets at first, before it fell in thick sheets. She didn't reach up to re-cover her head, didn't break the eye contact with him until she heard voices from behind.
"Commander," Varel's voice carried, her seneschal. Nathaniel followed close behind the other man. "You must get inside," he continued, glancing suspiciously at Zevran.
"We're coming," she answered, noting Nathaniel's wary gaze on the man who had been her lover. Both men heard the 'we' and looked uncomfortable. They knew who he was, had seen the pictures of the party who had defeated the arch-demon. It didn't matter that he had helped to them, she knew the men well enough, they'd be anxious about his past. The Antivan Crow - an assassin.
A senseless person would have been defensive of him but Mahariel knew better. He was wild and dangerous, still as unpredictable as the day they'd met when he'd tried to kill her.
He'd set up a trap, wanting to catch her off guard. The gang he'd hired had uprooted a tree, dropping it onto the path where she stood. Rolling out of his way, her fingers had felt for the feathers of her arrows before she'd unleashed her fury. It had been a gruesome battle, her shield and sword both dripped in blood in the end.
But not his.
Zevran had watched the whole scene, dressed in dark green and leather armour. He'd laughed out loud when she'd stood before him, surrounded by his hired goons with an arrow chocked and ready in her bow. He'd reached behind him, grabbed the decorated duel blades and began to swing them in a flurry of movements she couldn't help but admire.
Raising her aim, it took only a single arrow to his thigh to bring him down. When she walked over to him, he'd looked up at her and she had known that he must have wanted to loose. The skill he'd shown in that moment meant he had gone down all too easy.
They had shared a common purpose in that moment: the need to die, to end the pain.
"Mahariel," Nathaniel touched her arm, beside the armoured griffin protecting her shoulder. She must have spaced out for a moment.
Looking into Nathaniel's blue grey eyes, she found her body was numb from the continuous cold. "You need to go inside."
When she looked back to Zevran she found he hadn't moved but had pulled on his hood, covering his face from view. "Follow me," she told him, then walked with Nathaniel and Varel in tail.
Vigils keep was made of thick, dark stone which meant it was cold, even on the inside. Varel coughed lightly and turned to her, he clearly had more to say but kept it short with: "There is a meeting in Amaranthine tomorrow, Commander."
"Inform Anders and Oghren to be ready by sunrise," she nodded, noting it down on her long list of things to do. She hadn't wanted to be a leader; not as a warden recruit and not as the commander. Still, the title had been given to her. If she failed, the people she served would suffer.
He bowed his head slightly, out of respect before walking away down the hallway towards the great hall.
"I shall also be ready at sunrise," Nathaniel told her. "For now, I'll retire to my rooms."
Mahariel looked at him. His face was pale from the hours of cold. She could advice him to get warm - as a friend - but he wasn't a child, and didn't like to be fussed over so she said nothing. He walked away also, towards the stairs.
There was a dreadful silence when the others footsteps could no longer be heard. She sighed lightly, and looked up at the assassin. He had been gone for three years and had not sent even a single letter. Perhaps he didn't even want her anymore or the crows might have put an even bigger price on her head. She averted her eyes.
"The dining room is this way," she told him. "There is a large fireplace to get warm."
He followed her silently, even his footsteps seemed muffled but then, surely that was part of his training. She opened the doors to the long dining room, as she has said, there was a large fireplace on the opposite end, a few chairs before it. She stepped into the room, then gripped the wooden back of one of the many dining seats as if for support.
"The goal you had," she started, keeping her eyes on the table top. He remained in the door way, as if he didn't plan on staying. "Have you been successful?"
"In a way," he answered, eventually. His accent was like it always had been but his voice was rougher. "Though it was much more complicated than I originally thought out."
"Then, are you satisfied?" A tone leaked into her voice that she hadn't intended. A bitterness she had kept hidden.
It took a moment for him to speak again, and when he did, it sounded gritty with anger. "I am not satisfied, no."
She opened her mouth to continue but he jumped in, surprising her. "Have you moved on since my absence?" There was venom on his voice.
Her eyes snapped to his, she could see the honey coloured orbs glowing beneath the hood hem like a predator. "What do you mean?"
"The boy," he snapped. "The archer."
"Nathaniel?" She asked, astonished. "He is a friend, Zevran, nothing more." Her own anger shone through, glistening on the surface. "You believe I have been unfaithful? You were the one who left me."
"To protect you!" He growled, taking a step into the room. "Do you honestly believe I would allow the Crows to hang over my head - your head? No. There was no other choice."
"I could have come with you," she returned, her voice hard. "Or you could have at least sent word, kept in touch..."
"They would have intercepted any letters I would have sent you," he retorted, like she was foolish for saying it.
"Really?" She laughed, it was a harsh sound that ripped at her throat. These were words that had been boiling up since that faithful day she'd woken up to the letter, instead of the man who'd given her a promise.
She'd known love was nothing but trouble. It had been when Tamlen had died, and when she'd thought to try again, it had only ended up the same. He'd left and she hadn't been right since. Shirayuki wanted him to know, wanting him to feel the pain she had.
"If there's someone else, Zevran," she ended up saying, shaking her head as if she couldn't take it. "I'll understand. Just tell me-"
"You think that there is someone else," he shot into the room, coming to face her. "You think I could have someone else after you? You are gravely mistaken, Yuki."
Her gauntlet hands clenched into fists on the back on the chair. Her eyes flared beneath the strands of white that obscured her face most of the time.
"Do you even have my token?" He accused, ferociously. "My promise to you?"
She pushed off the chair she'd been leant on and brushed passed him, heading for the fire. There she stared into the flames. It hurt that he thought she'd discard his token of affection. But then, they were both hurting each other in the moment.
Her fingers moved to her neck, and under her armour as she pulled out a necklace. It was the locket she'd received from the Temple of Sacred Ashes. One side was a mirror and the other was decorated metal, like vines. Inside, there was a single earring. She held it out, catching the fire light against it, for him to see.
"I never took it off," she bit out, then dropped it. The locket fell back to her chest. Not even once had she thought to take it off, not even when she was so angry at him for leaving.
They were silent again. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire and her breathing in her own ears.
"It has been a very long trip," he eventually sighed. "If you are able, I wish to spend the night within the keep. That is if you allow it, and there are rooms to spare." It sounded final in his voice, and his words...he was not staying. Even if she had kept his token, they were different people from what they had once been.
"Of course," her voice took on the tone she used to speak to the other wardens as their commander. It was not hers.
Then she backed off from the fire, starting towards the side door. From there, she called for someone to show him to the guest rooms. A young man answered, who looked cautiously at Zevran. The assassin turned, expecting the boy to follow, leaving her again without saying a word. The boy ran after, closing the door behind himself.
For not the first time, she was left alone. The shadows cast by the fire suddenly took on ominous shapes. She clutched her head. For time...the Wardens lives were short, and she was sure there was not much time left for her.
It was better that way then, better that he have a chance at happiness with someone else; someone who will live till they are old. Steeling herself to the notion that it was the right outcome for everyone, she turned on her heels and headed to her chambers where she would collapse onto the floor in a heap, to sleep beside the fire.
Her path had not yet ended, however, there was still much she must do.