Zevran had that disapproving look again.
I don't mind learning to repair armor. I've only been a Grey Warden for a few weeks, and I'm still getting over the shock of learning all of their secrets at once. Always expected I might want a family one day, a partner to grow old with once I retire from fighting. Wups. Guess not.
I think the Commander is giving me simple tasks so that I'll have time to think. The armory is a pleasant enough place in summer, with sunlight slanting in to warm up the wooden floor. Zevran is good company, and tells the best stories while we sit around and stitch. But right now he's got that look that means he's about to start complaining about the inferior leather we have in Ferelden. I'm *really* sick of hearing that. So I blurted out the first question that came to mind.
"Why are you teaching us, if you won't go through the Joining yourself? Do the Grey Wardens mean something to you?"
He glanced up from the gauntlet he was working on. "Only one of them does."
Everyone knows about the two of them. They don't talk about it much, but it's not exactly a secret why Zevran is here. He isn't in the order though. He could still have it all, the family, the retirement, someone to grow old with. Doesn't he realize?
"But you two don't exactly get to live happily ever after, do you? He's a Grey Warden. When the taint starts to catch up to him, he'll be called to the Deep Roads to die fighting darkspawn. How many years does he have to live, ten? Doesn't that bother you?"
Zevran tucked a blond strand behind one pointed ear. "No, because I expect the Crows will track me down and kill me long before that."
Crap. He sounded as calm as if he was predicting tomorrow's weather. I heard he used to be a Crow, but wasn't that ancient history? "You think they are still hunting you?"
"I think," the Commander said, "that you and I together could kill one hell of a lot of Crows, Zev." He shouldered through the door awkwardly with his arms full of blunted practice swords.
Their eyes met, and for a moment I wondered if they were angry about something. I thought about ducking out, but the Commander was blocking the door.
Zevran looked away first. "True."
The Commander turned to place the swords on their rack, one by one. Zevran continued, "And when you are called, you and I together will kill one hell of a lot of darkspawn."
The Commander whirled around so fast, he actually dropped the last practice sword. He *never* drops a weapon. "Zev, no."
"If my battles are yours, then your battles are mine."
This time the Commander looked away.
Zevran went back to stitching leather.