In answer to Cheeky Monkey challenge 'Happy ending for Zevran'. Terms: make Zev happy, too! Zev/anyone, smut or not, angsty or fluffy or silly, the only condition is the happy end. Set in the 'Mabari & Magus' universe.


At Peace

.o0o.

It was one of those balmy spring evenings that seemed to suspend all life in a gentle lassitude. The faint sounds of desultory traffic from the street below drifted through the open window where Zevran lingered, letting the fragrance of the nearby spill of jasmine center his spirit.

Just as his Warden did...

The scented breeze followed him inside to make an exploratory circuit of the room, stirring the hangings and riffling the dried grasses on the mantel before exiting with a final brush to the wind chimes as he seated himself. He helped himself to the waiting bottle of cognac and then leaned back in a creak of wicker, cradling the snifter of amber liquid to savor the aroma and the memories.

Life in the Crows had taught him the value of snatching moments of pleasure when opportunities arose, to snatch, savor, relinquish and above all move on. What purpose to cling, after all, when everything could and would be turned against one's valueless self, even hopes of happiness? Better to stay empty.

His Warden had taught him the value of the moments themselves.

Poring over incomprehensible texts, willingly explaining and exchanging knowledge. Awkwardly learning to handle a blade under his tutelage. Standing in the prow of a ship, reveling in the spray and the freedom. Even the time after Fort Drakon . . . no, especially the time after Fort Drakon.

He swirled and sipped the warming spirit.

Quiet companionship on watch. An unexpected gift to touch him deeply enough to leave him reeling. Believing in him when he himself was at a loss. Trusting him enough to bare the deepest hurt, and caring enough to empathize with his own.

A laugh. A touch. An embrace. A whisper.

Every moment was to be cherished, to be kept alive in memory with all the original joy it carried. He could no more relinquish and move on than breathe water.

Healing.

Love.

He toasted the empty chair across from his own and finished the last of his drink.

The door opened in a clatter of toenails and a quiet murmur.

"So? I take it all the trees in the neighborhood are well and truly watered?" Zevran turned over the second snifter and refilled his own.

"Say rather the trees in the entire district," came the wry response, "not to mention an unfortunate cat that was slow to rouse from its nap."

"Ah, well. 'In peace, vigilance.' No more than a feline should expect for being complacent, yes?" Zevran addressed Blossom, who nosed the elf affectionately in passing before flopping with a contented sigh before the hearth.

Sabhya lit a sconce with a tiny flick of magic and approached to rest his fingers on Zevran's shoulder, butterfly-light. Noting the remaining level of cognac, he raised an eyebrow in mock reproof.

"One down already? Going ahead without me, querido?"

Zevran reached up and covered the scarred hand with his own.

"Never."