Author's Note: There are a lot of anecdotes in Dragon Age regarding the items, and I really liked the one accompanying the poison called 'Adder's Kiss'. Simply that an antivan noble, so heartbroken by the acts of his adulterous wife, used it to kill her. He put it on his lips and kissed her, killing them both. I wanted to write out a story with that, and it somehow went hand in hand with Zevran, him being Antivan and all. So this evolved into 'Storytime with Zevran', and I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
"Tell me a story, Zev."
The blond glanced up from the fire he had been stoking to meet eyes with another elf - this one had long brown hair tied up in a neat tail. Half of his face was delicately tattooed with tree branches and leaves, creating a vivid image that reminded the on looker of the forest. Green eyes danced for Zevran's blue, and he could not fight the smile from his face for all the world. He looked back to the fire, feigning disinterest.
"What makes you think I'd be good at that?" The elf sat on a log perpendicular to Zevran's own seating place, throwing his hands into the air with abandon in his excited explanation.
"You're an assassin! You must have done so much, seen so many places..."
"Haha, am I that old, to have done so much already?" He glanced amusedly at the elf, pulling the branch from the embers of the flames. The two knew what they were on about, but the game was only fun if both were playing.
"Stop your teasing, Zev. If you don't know one, I'll just go ask Leliana -" With that, the elf stood from his seat and began to walk past Zevran. Not missing a beat, the blond grabbed the elf's hand with his own, feeling the sun-kissed skin and taut muscle beneath. The elf paused, looking down on Zevran with cool, amused eyes, though his walk had been only for show.
"Ah, you have seen through my facade. No, wait, sit down, sit! Why would you want some silly history lesson from that merely gorgeous redhead, when I, a dashing blond, can weave a tale of tragedy and romance? Sit!" Without waiting for his reply, Zevran pulled the elf down nearly onto his lap, but the elf responded with some quick maneuvering that placed him next to his companion.
"I am sitting! I've fulfilled my half, now you yours." Zev's hand lingered, then turned over to gently glide the backs of his fingers along the arm that attached to the hand. The arms and hands were decorated similarly to the elf's face, and Zevran knew that there was more along the shoulder, the torso...he had traced them many times.
"So pushy! You must be patient. Stories are the first night of two young lovers - caresses must be felt out carefully, so as to not ruin the moment. After all, would you not want your first time to be a gentle and loving one? Then again, you are always on about the leather and the rope..." His hand removed itself to pile in his lap, but his companion leaned into the blond's shoulder, unwilling to cease contact.
"Stop with your teasing! What will you tell me?" Zevran laughed aloud, heartily and fully. He scooted away just a tad, and leaned forward; his companion did the same, as though they were to exchange secrets that might topple nations.
"Let me tell it, and you shall know.
"Antiva is full of wondrous, dark-eyed beauties. You can barely turn a corner without running into one. Really, sometimes I wonder why I left..." The elf rolled his eyes, holding back the urge to swat the blond on his head.
"This isn't much of a story, Zev-"
"Quiet. Amongst all of them, there was a particular one. This woman garnered a reputation about herself, one to make all others jealous. This sort of reputation is won naturally, through the shape of one's face, the look in one's eye. I suppose you might be able to build such a reputation over time, but not she. She was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, and a personality that made both women and men go insane with lust.
"And, on top of that, she was a terrible flirt." Laughter suddenly interrupted him, though he was expecting it.
"Why doesn't that sound familiar-" The elf started, but Zevran shushed him with a finger pressed to his lips.
"I said, quiet! Though you flatter me.
"Do you want to hear a story or not? Well then.
"As I said, she was a most terrible flirt. She had ten lovers on the first day of the week, and five times that by week's end. Some were petty enough to call her a whore, but that was the least of it - through her numerous lovers, she garnered a massive fortune through gifts alone. She might not have looked it, but she was clever and wise with money."
"So she was using her lovers to become rich?"
"Did I say that? No, she didn't - it was simply that she enjoyed sharing her favors, and when others returned the favor, she was wise in investments, in spending.
"Those who had been jealous of her before now wanted her;, but now for her coin rather than then her. But it was said that she would never marry, for what reason did she have? She had lovers, and she had wealth. But that...that was before she fell in love.
"He wasn't a dashing fellow, or even a smart one. But love does funny things to us all - and I do mean all, there are no exceptions - and she fell for him within a week. They were wed in two, despite all the talk. Rumors of magic, blackmail, and more circulated, but did little good. She wed him, forsook her lovers, and turned towards a less besmirched life. Which I suppose would be the end of the story, wouldn't it?"
"That's it? That's all? But you said-" The elf's face, which had been so enraptured by the story, suddenly broke. His lips turned down, and his eyes were so framed that would have made even the most cold-hearted of villains need to make them dance again. Zevran leaned back up, affronted, placing a hand on his heart as though wounded.
"What? Of course not! I promised romance and tragedy, didn't I? What kind of person would I be to break my word, and only deliver half? My reputation would suffer, and what is a man without his reputation-"
"Zevran!" The elf scooted away in mocking admonishment, and Zevran replied in opposite kind; two always played.
"Apologies.
"They were wed, they were happy. But the woman's admirers - now enemies - were not. Spurned lovers can be quite vehement in their wrath. Believe me, I've known my share. One threw a lamp at my head when she discovered me in her brother's bed - nearly set me alight! Although what put her off might have been me my mentioning that there was room for three in the bed..."
"I shall keep that in mind; the lamp throwing, I mean, if you have such an aversion to it."
"Oh, ho! Taking notes, are you? Anyway:
"They had been living well, these lovers, and, of course, no one takes having their heart broken lightly. And since there were so many of them, it wasn't long before they came up with a terrible plan to exact their revenge on this woman who had dared to dally with them, and then retreat into something so dastardly as happiness.
"After the lovebirds had returned from their honeymoon in Orlais - wonderful in springtime, I must tell you, we shall go there someday - all of those spurned lovers and enemies and those envious, in general, they all flocked to the man whom the woman had chosen, had raised above all others.
"They befriended him in droves, cheering his good luck and fortune, extolling the virtues - and some of the sins - of his new bride. Slowly they woke his normally cheerful and carefree demeanor to the possibilities.
"She had been such a wanton thing before - how long might this new demeanor last? How long before she grew bored of him, and returned to her old ways? And of course this was all said through the lips and teeth of people who called themselves his friends, confidantes, compadres.
"And slowly they began to pick away at him. A word here, a tip there. Some days he would return to the villa he shared with his beautiful, wealthy wife, and he would wonder. Did he seem older than he was a day before? Was that laugh at his joke an illusion? Perhaps...the letter she did not show him was from a secret lover, scented with perfume? Slowly the thoughts drove him mad: a question here, an inkling there. Slowly they ate away at his mind, his trust, his belief.
"And then his thoughts turned to those of loss - what would he be without her? He did love her so dearly. His life would be empty were she to break his heart in two. Quite simply, he could not bear to be parted from her, whether it be by her will or by simple fancy. As days past, he fell into a deep sadness.
"His wife bade him tell her what worm had carved its way into his soul, why he was so unhappy. Was it her? Had she done something? But he believed it all a lie, unable to once again believe that she would be able to feel such a simple emotion as love.
"He turned to his friends, the ones who had began begun the whole mess. Of course they had an answer! They gave him a magical potion, one they said they had procured at great cost. All he had to do was to wet his lips with the liquid, and surprise his beloved with a kiss. Then there would be nothing that would ever come between them again; she would be freed of her horrid ways, and they would be able to live happily ever after.
"Are you all right?" His lips curled as he took in the face of his companion, who had become so enthralled with the story that his eyes were the size of dinner plates. The elf shook himself, suddenly aware to the fact that Zevran had stopped speaking and had asked a question.
"What? Don't stop! Please continue, Zev, please!"
"You just looked so...enraptured!"
"Zevvvrraannn!" The elf whined, and it was all Zevran could do to fulfill his wishes.
"As you wish, my dear Warden.
"He took them at their word - after all, why should he disbelieve them? They were providing a solution, and what possible harm could come of this? He returned home and prepared a lavish meal - a table full of her favorite delicacies. Pheasant, nug, quail, whathaveyou. The finest wines and spirits to sooth the mind and loosen the tongue - and desserts, some of which were meant to be eaten from the body itself, to ready each for the true dessert at the end of the foreplay.
"After the meal, he took her to the bedroom; of course, she suspected nothing, head over heels for this man - this man - whom she had chosen above all others. Perhaps the last few weeks had been nothing, and now he was going to make it all up to her.
Candles lit upon every available edge, petals scattered upon the floor created a scented path to a lavishly made bed. Taking her hand, he pulled her close," Zevran grasped the elf's hand, pulling them closer so that their thighs were touching while still seated. The elf's mouth opened unconsciously, a small breath of excitement escaping. "And kissed her deeply. He laid her on the bed, and turned away for but a moment.
"The vial was on the nightstand," Zevran made motions as though to pull a vial from his belt, "dappled a few drops onto his lips," he gently wiped at his mouth to complete the scene's actions, "and returned to his wife within a moment's breath. Another kiss, passionate and nearly feral, and suddenly they were weakening in their throes of passion.
"His hands felt cold - his lips were numb. Under him, his love was convulsing from pain instead of pleasure. Too late did he realize that he had been tricked, that the vial of potion was really a vial of poison.
"Later, the confidantes said the man had only married the woman for her money, intending on killing her once he had grown tired of her; unfortunately, he had not been too smart, and had killed himself in the process." The elf's expression, no longer one of earnestness as he usually wore, was saddened, and though he did not physically move from Zevran, the blond could feel him pull away to think. He curled an arm around his companion, knowing full well that this was likely not the sort of story he had wanted.
After a short time, Zevran decided that he could wait no longer. "Did you not like your story?"
"What?"
"You have grown so quiet, my dear Warden." The elf drew himself from within slowly, becoming aware that Zevran was holding him. His head dropped onto the blond's shoulder, the two fitting together.
"I was only thinking...may I ask, is it true?"
"Is what true?"
"The story - were they real? Did he really disbelieve that she could've loved him?" Zevran grinned, amused. It was so like his Warden, in his child-like demeanor, to naively question everything. That was what he had come to lo...to admire in him so deeply. To have gone through such horrible events and still come out whole on the other side.
"I do not know; it is a tale that is passed around, especially in apothecaries. The pothers would utter this story, warning scorned lovers about their decisions though they'd already made up their minds. And then they would sell them this." He reached into his leather satchel and withdrew a vial - a small amount of liquid bobbed inside, a pinkish in hue.
"Is that?"
"The same poison? I have no idea, my darling Dalish boy. But it is called Adder's Kiss, a loving snake bite from one whom you would least expect to harm you." He put the end of the vial to his lips as though to apply it, looking at the Dale expectantly - there were always more questions, but he was ever ready for them.
"Would you ever do that to me?" Zevran played the scorned lover well, and his expression of disbelief pulled a small chuckle from his companion.
"Are you presuming that you would forsake me for another? Me? Your Zevran?" He shook his head, unable to close his mouth until he felt sinewy hands on his jaw, tracing upwards.
"No! Haha, no, Zev, no." He looked down to see the elf's head moving closer to his, finally whispering words that made him shiver as though they were alone in his tent.
"Never."