The news that Zevran was back from the north had Aedan springing from his chair and heading from his office down to the entrance hall at a very fast pace. Not running, of course, it wouldn't do to be seen running just to greet Zevran's arrival, but he walked very fast indeed, bursting into the hall to find Zevran already surrounded by a small group of Grey Wardens and servants.

Not that Aedan even particularly noticed them, other than as minor obstacles that hastily removed themselves from his path as he headed over to Zevran, coming to an abrupt halt just a step away from the assassin, running his eyes over Zevran from head to toe, reassuring himself that the blighted elf was all right. And he was; he looked fine. A little tired maybe, and dusty from the road, but both were so common an occurrence to not even particularly register on Aedan.

The stained bandage wrapped around his left wrist; that registered. The glorious smile Zevran gave Aedan, moving a half-step closer as he did so, that definitely registered. The smell of him, too, all leather and spice and unwashed musky male scent, that registered to far more than just Aedan's nose. It made him want to grab Zevran and kiss the living daylights out of him, and then maybe drag him down to the floor and show him just how very much he'd missed him… but that was another of those things that just wouldn't do, like running to him, or grabbing and hugging him and refusing to let go, so he settled for returning the smile. "Good to have you back," he said, forcing his voice to stay even and calm, rather than shouting joyfully.

Zevran's smile widened, just slightly. "Good to be here to be had," he said, one eyelid flickering slightly lower in just the tiniest hint of a wink.

Aedan had to turn his gaze elsewhere for a moment. Only then did he become aware that Zevran had company; that he'd brought someone to the keep. Someone young, and so androgynously pretty that Aedan wasn't in the least sure what sex the stranger was. "And who is this?" he asked.

Zevran's smile faltered slightly. "Ah. Feynriel, this is my… this is the Warden-Commander, Aedan Cousland. Aedan, this is Feynriel – a friend of mine. I acquired him up north."

Aedan frowned slightly, shooting Zevran a questioning look, then eyeing the young man. The very young man – a teenager still, if he had to guess, or just barely into his twenties perhaps. He looked a little like Zevran, actually – like a faded version of him, platinum blond hair and light gold eyes and pale ivory skin where Zevran was all darker warm sunny gold tones. He was also tired looking – even more so than Zevran seemed – and more than a touch frightened, clearly nervous to be surrounded by so many strangers. Aedan didn't miss noticing the way Feynriel moved closer to Zevran, nor the way Zevran unobtrusively reached out and squeezed his arm lightly, reassuringly. Ah. A friend as in someone Zevran had chosen to take to his bed, if he was reading the body language between them right. Not the first time Zevran had come back having enjoyed escapades abroad, but the first time he'd ever actually brought home one of his conquests.

Aedan could feel a frown settling over his face, see it reflected in how studiously blank Zevran's own expression became. "I fear we need to talk, my warden," Zevran said, very quietly.

Aedan shot Feynriel another look, then nodded. "All right. Get your friend settled first," he said, then turned and marched off back to his office, feeling annoyed and angry, and further annoyed that he was angry. They'd never agreed to be exclusive, even if they had exchanged certain small, meaningful pieces of jewellery. He'd known that Zevran would often need to go afield on business of his own, and sometimes as part of that business, or even perhaps just out of general loneliness, he might briefly take a lover somewhere else. Aedan knew it wouldn't phase Zevran at all if he found someone to slake his own lusts with when Zevran was unavailable, though he'd only once taken advantage of that tacit permission, and hadn't cared for the experience enough to ever repeat it. But for Zevran to actually bring back such a chance-met lover… that worried him. And angered him. It changed things.

He hadn't been back in his office for very long when Zevran slipped quietly in, closing the door silently behind him, still dressed in the dust-streaked clothes from his journey here. "Is that brandy?" Zevran asked, nodding to the decanter Aedan held in one hand. Aedan flushed, and nodded, filling the empty glass that he'd been holding forgotten in the other hand, passing it to Zevran before pouring one for himself.

Zevran took a sizable sip of his, then sighed in pleasure, smacking his lips. "Antivan brandy; very nice," he said, then walked over to settle one hip on the corner of Aedan's desk, bracing one foot against the floor and crossing his legs, hands resting draped over his lap. "You are angry with me for bringing Feynriel here, and frightened about why I have done such a thing," he said forthrightly.

Aedan flushed, and knocked back half his drink, topping it up again before walking around the desk to drop heavily into his chair. Zevran always had been able to see right through him. "Yes," he admitted. "Why did you bring him?"

Zevran sighed. "A very long story. The short form of it was that he is an apostate mage, a half-elven one, and was in great danger where he was. He had been taken in by a tribe of Dalish – ones who also gave me some small amount of shelter – but the templars of Kirkwall had become aware of his presence and were planning to take him into custody. At his age, and given the particular powers he has, it is very likely they would have made him tranquil, rather than harrowing him. He and I had become… close, during my stay with the Dalish; his human father is Antivan, you see, so he was very interested in hearing about the country from me, and he is beautiful, and… well, one thing led to another, as sometimes happens. Anyway, I could not leave him to the templars, and I owed the Dalish for their having given me some degree of protection while I was there. So I told the Keeper I would bring him here, where he has at least some chance of a good life."

Aedan frowned, long association with Zevran allowing him to easily pick out the bit of information that Zevran had tried to skim by without calling attention to it. "What particular powers?"

Zevran sighed, and made a face, taking another drink of his brandy before answering. "He is what the elves of ancient Arlathan would have called a somniari – a dreamer. A true dreamer, one who can enter the Fade at will, shape and mold it to fit their desires. They can see and even change the dreams of others."

"Don't some blood mages do that?" Aedan asked suspiciously. "I've heard they can enter dreams and influence people's thoughts with blood magic."

"Some, yes, but theirs is only a course imitation of the powers of a somniari, requiring considerable blood shed to enact even small changes. Like trying to make a fine wood carving with a dull adze, while the somniari has many very small and very sharp carving tools instead. Anyway, his powers can be a danger, both to himself and those around him; demons are particularly attracted to his kind, it is said, and few somniari learn to master themselves before falling victim to one. Those that do survive, however… they are the stuff of legend."

That made Aedan frown. "And yet you brought him here, even knowing what a danger he might be? What if he does fall prey to a demon? What then?"

"I do not believe he will," Zevran said calmly. "He has already been through what could be called a harrowing; he did almost fall prey to demons, while still little more than a child. But several surprisingly brave people entered the Fade, and helped him to see through the illusions the demons had used to ensnare him. In the end he rejected the demons, and now he knows to be wary of them, knows what traps they might set for him, and how to overcome them. I think few demons would risk trying to influence him now that he has come into his powers; they are beings of the Fade, after all, and he can unmake them as easily as he can reshape the Fade itself."

That made Aedan's eyes light up with interest. "Now that sounds promising," he said. "We may have dealt with the worst of the darkspawn, but it seems that there's never an end to demons and abominations. If he'd be of use fighting those…"

"Which he certainly would be," Zevran said, more than a little smugly. "I am not saying you should make a Grey Warden out of him – in fact I would tend to advise against it, since there is no knowing how warden nightmares would interact with his peculiar powers. But I think he is better off here than elsewhere, and you can protect him from templars better than any other I can think of. Besides, the other option they were considering was to send him to Tevinter. Can you imagine what a horror his powers might be in the hands of the magisters?" Zevran said, and his shudder was anything but theatrical.

Aedan scowled. "Agreed," he said. "All right. He can stay. Just… how is this going to work? Are you and he still an item? What about us?"

Zevran frowned slightly, and shrugged. "I made it clear to him that I am in a relationship with someone else, though I have not yet told him who. And while I like him, and would wish to still be his friend, that our relationship as anything more than friends likely ends with our arrival here."

"Likely? Not definitely?" Aedan asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

Zevran smiled, and rose to his feet, setting down his now-empty glass before walking around the desk. He climbed up into the chair, straddling Aedan's lap, his arms moving to drape loosely around Aedan's neck. "I am yours," he said softly. "You know this."

Aedan swallowed heavily and nodded, his arms rising to fold around the elf's waist, automatically pulling him close. "Yes," he said huskily. "But Feynriel?"

"I will admit I am a little smitten with him," Zevran said with his usual frankness, an honesty that Aedan treasured – even when, as now, it stung – because he knew how few people Zevran trusted enough to speak honestly with them. Zevran smiled, his hands rising to card into Aedan's shaggy mess of hair, pulling him closer, forcing him to meet Zevran's eyes. "But I am rather more than merely smitten with you. Anyway, it's mainly just that he reminds me of a certain other overly innocent and ridiculously powerful and dangerous young man I once met," he said, his faint smile and the kiss he gave Aedan making it clear just what other young man he was referring to. Not so young, now, nor anywhere near as innocent, either. But certainly still powerful, and dangerous.

Aedan relaxed, soothed by the contact, and suddenly wanting nothing more than to carry Zevran off to his bedroom, lock the door for the night, and reacquaint Zevran with Grey Warden stamina. By the gleam in the elf's eyes and a certain increasing pressure down where the assassin's leather-clad groin was pressed up against his stomach, the elf was entertaining similar thoughts. He forced his thoughts back on track. "And Feynriel?" he asked.

Zevran sighed, and sat back a little. "You are being almost annoyingly persistent tonight, my warden. All right. I think you might find him… rather intriguing, as well."

Aedan frowned. "You wish me to… with him?"

"Why not? We have spoken before of perhaps sharing our bed with a third, and the fun that could be. I like the boy already; I am convinced you will like him too, once you get to know him a little better."

Aedan's frown deepened. "But he's so young…"

Zevran shrugged, and pressed himself up against Aedan again, closing his arms around the man's shoulders again. "Older then he looks, actually – older than you were when you seduced me."

"You mean when you seduced me," Aedan corrected him.

Zevran grinned. "When we seduced each other," he said, then his expression darkened. "He is no innocent, Aedan. He has walked the dreams of men and women alike since his powers first woke; seen their dreams, not just the nice ones but the dark dreams and the nightmares too. He is well aware of just how wide a range of things people may enjoy doing with or to each other. The surprising thing is that it hasn't turned him off of sex entirely. But instead it's more like me, and being raised in a whorehouse – it has made him extremely accepting, and open. And interested. I think if we did happen to invite him to join us, it would be a very enjoyable night for all three of us," he said, then leaned forward, pretty much draping himself over Aedan, his lips right beside Aedan's ear.

"Imagine it, my warden," he whispered, voice a low purr. "You and I and he all in bed together, he and I happily attending to your needs. Imagine what we could do together, the three of us. What would you like more, I wonder, you being between he and I, or you and I having that pretty young man between the two of us, hrmm?"

Aedan shivered, his arms closing hard around Zevran, hugging him tightly. "You are an evil man, Zevran," he said, voice more than a little husky. "All right. I'll at least consider it. But right now… tonight… I just want you, in my room and in my bed, as quickly as can be accomplished."

Zevran shivered, just a little bit, and pulled back his head to smile warmly at Aedan. "Of course, my warden. But can there be a bath first, perhaps? I stink and I itch, and I am longing to have my hair properly washed."

Aedan laughed, then rose to his feet, Zevran's legs clamping around his waist. "All right. A bath first. And supper. But then bed, and I don't want to hear another word about anyone else until morning. All right?" he asked.

"Of course," Zevran agreed, smiling.