Zevran wrapped his blanket more tightly around his shoulders, and sniffled. Damn this country anyway – when it wasn't cold, it was raining. And then there were the days like today, when it was both cold and rainy. For someone who grew up in the sub-topical heat of Antiva, he was a dreadfully long way away from a decently warm and dry country. At least Alistair and Kalli hadn't insisted he accompany them hunting this afternoon; instead the two had gone off together, leaving him bundled up in camp to try and sleep off his incipient cold, Kalli's mabari Dandelion staying to keep him company and guard his rest.
He knew he should be curled up in the tent, staying warm and dry, but had found himself feeling chilled even with all the blankets in the tent wrapped around him, and Dandelion curled up against him. He'd decided he'd better risk the cold, and the wet, to boil some water and make himself some willow-bark tea. Bitter as a whore's spite, but it would at least warm his stomach and hopefully sooth his aches and drive off the fever he seemed to be developing.
He heard the two wardens returning before they came into view, Alistair's voice raised in anger. "...you want me to marry her! I don't love her! It's you I love!"
Zevran winced. Ah. Kalli must have finally told Alistair about her plan to win Anora's co-operation by supporting her as Queen; a plan which she'd only been able to sway Arl Eamon into supporting by dangling the idea of Alistair wedding the woman before him. Not an idea she'd run by Alistair himself first, Zevran knew, it having been a spur-of-the-moment suggestion made out of desperation. And then she'd had to win Anora's agreement to it before Arl Eamon would agree, and somehow in all the back-and-forthing and negotiating there'd never been a chance to float the plan by Alistair as well. Hence this sudden unscheduled trip into the countryside for the three of them, Kalli well-knowing how loud Alistair's reaction to the news was likely to be.
"Did you think I wanted to make such a suggestion?" Kalli growled as the two came into sight beyond the edge of the clearing. "I had no choice!"
As always, Zevran winced internally at the harsh rasp of her once-beautiful voice, ruined when Taliesin had slashed her throat open. The other assassin had only narrowly missed killing her, foiled by the timely arrival of Wynne and the rest, leaving Kalli bleeding out onto the dusty cobblestones of a Denerim backstreet as he and his coterie of Crows made off with Zevran. She would bear the marks of Taliesin's vengeful attack for the rest of her life, in the thick raised scar across her neck – now faded to white from its original angry red hue – and her forever-ruined voice.
As he looked up from the pot of water – only just beginning to steam, not yet at a simmer – he saw Alistair push through the bushes around the edge of the clearing, Kalli following close behind him. The warrior thoughtlessly released the branches he'd pushed aside, and they snapped back, earning a startled squawk from Kalli as they narrowly missed hitting her in the face, and released their accumulated load of water onto her, drenching her from head to toes.
Alistair look suitably chagrined as he spun to see what he'd done. "Oh, Maker... Kalli, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that, I wasn't thinking..."
"So I noticed," she snapped out, and stalked past him and over to the fire, pausing when she spotted Zevran huddled beside it, wrapped in a blanket to try and keep the worst of the rain off of him. "What are you doing out here in the rain? You should be resting!" she pointed out sharply.
Zevran sniffled juicily, and gestured at the pot. "Making willow-bark tea," he said tiredly. "I fear I am developing a fever."
Both wardens were frowning and by his side within seconds, Kalli crouching down to feel his forehead while Alistair watched worriedly from behind her, shifting his weight from foot to foot, their own argument at least temporarily forgotten.
"You're burning up!" Kalli exclaimed. "Alistair, take him into the tent and get him dried off, I'll be in to join you as soon as this tea is ready."
Alistair nodded, and scooped Zevran up in his arms, despite the assassin's protests that he was perfectly capable of walking the short distance to their shared tent. Naturally the warrior had to put him back down again as soon as they reached the tent, the entrance being low enough to not be conducive to being carried into it. Once inside, Alistair removed the damp blanket draped around Zevran's shoulders, before starting work on helping him out of his equally damp clothing.
"You are even wetter than I am," Zevran pointed out, and began unlacing the neck of Alistair's shirt. "Such foolishness, going hunting in weather as wet as this."
Alistair snorted, and smiled slightly. "You just like seeing me naked," he said. "Anyway, it wasn't raining when we left. And I don't think it was hunting Kalli had in mind, she just... wanted to talk."
"This is true," Zevran agreed judiciously. "Both the liking seeing you naked, and Kalli doubtless having other reasons than hunting to want to go for a walk. She often wanders when she is unhappy, I have noticed. And I know she was not happy about having to tell you of the agreements she had come to with Arl Eamon and your Queen," he added.
Alistair froze for a moment in the middle of unlacing Zevran's breeches. "You knew she was making this arrangement!" he demanded angrily. "Did everyone know except me!"
"Of course I know, and no, Alistair, only a very few people knew. Think, Alistair – the two of you had me accompanying her everywhere so that prude Arl Eamon would think it was only she and I having a relationship, not all three of us. Of course I was present when she was negotiating his continued co-operation with the Grey Wardens."
Alistair turned an alarming shade of red, sputtering in indignation. Zevran gave him a hard look, then reached down and removed the man's hands from his laces so he could continue undressing himself. "Think, Alistair," he chided the warrior, voice hardening. "What is it you and Kalli have said Duncan told you about what to do to end the Blight?"
Alistair high colour faded somewhat, a look of distress crossing his face as often happened when events or words reminded him of his long-dead mentor Duncan, or his fellow Grey Wardens, all killed at the debacle at Ostagar save Kalli, then a new recruit. "To do whatever was necessary," he said humbly, an increasingly hang-dog expression on his face.
"Yes," Zevran said, and reached up to cup the larger man's face between his palms for a moment. "Killing the Archdemon, ending this Blight, is the most important goal you have. It is the only goal you are allowed to have, until it is done. And if it means lying, stealing, killing, going against every thing you have ever believed was moral and right, still you must do it, because it must be done, yes?" he said, and tapped the other man's cheek lightly, then went back to stripping off his leggings.
Alistair frowned unhappily, then reluctantly nodded, and resumed removing his own clothing as well. "Yes," he grudgingly agreed.
"Do you think Kalli wanted to offer you up as sacrifice to this widowed Queen of yours? No, Alistair – it was desperation. Arl Eamon was prepared to cease supporting the Grey Wardens if you did not become King. Anora was unwilling to support us if she did not remain Queen. By floating the idea of the two not being mutually exclusive goals, Kalli has won the co-operation of both of them. She did not like it, but it is was what she had to do."
"But I don't want to marry Anora..." Alistair stopped, sighed, then scrubbed his hands over his face and muttered. "Whatever must be done. Yes. But this!"
"Alistair," Zevran said, rolling over on his back so he could shuck his leggings and stockings, tossing them to join the growing pile of damp clothing in the corner by the door. "Do what is necessary – until the Archdemon is dead. After that – all bets are off, yes? And if by some miracle all three of us are still alive, perhaps the three of us will run away together, to a decently warm and dry country, and spend our days making love in a nice big bed with clean white sheets that smell of sunlight, instead of in small musty tents in the cold and wet."
Alistair laughed, and skinned out of his own leggings and stockings. "Rights. All right. I will smile and make nice and play along with this, this falsehood, but don't either of you ever think for a moment that I'm agreeing to leave the two of you."
"Of course not," Zevran agreed, and crawled over to hug and kiss the man. "I am yours. And Kalli's. And you are both mine," he said.
"Yes," Alistair agreed, and gave him a rib-straining bear-hug that startled laughter from the assassin. "Maker, you're burning up," he added, frowning in concern, then dug in his pack, producing a dry though not entirely clean shirt, and used it as a towel. Zevran was happy to submit to his ministrations, and once they'd both been rubbed dry the two settled down, Alistair sitting cross-legged on a folded blanket with Zevran cradled in his lap, the rest of the blankets draped around both of them.
Zevran sighed and leaned back against the larger man's shoulder. He was tired and achy and in general felt terrible, but having Alistair wrapped around him the way he was was very comforting. Even if it did give him lewd ideas that he wasn't at all sure he was currently up to carrying through on.
Alistair was also having interesting thoughts about their current nakedness and position, he suspected, given a certain area of pressure against his backside, and the way his hands had started a gentle exploration of Zevran's heated skin beneath the blankets. He made an approving sound as the other man lowered his head and peeled back their wrappings enough that he could kiss the top of Zevran's shoulder. Zevran sighed and tilted his head to the side, inviting similar kisses on the side of his neck, half-closing his eyes in pleasure as Alistair delicately kissed and licked at his skin.
Naturally that was when the flaps of the tent opened and Kalli stooped down to enter, a mug in one hand and the steaming pot in the other. She grinned at the sight of them, then found a place to put down the pot – by the door, in the opposite corner from the heap of wet clothes – and scooped out a mug of the tea to bring over to Zevran. It took him a moment to get one arm free of the constraining blankets so he could accept the mug from her. He made a face at the bitterness of the hot tea, but kept taking small sips of it, knowing it would help.
"Kalli... I'm sorry for getting mad," Alistair said, humbly. "I should have trusted you. You don't really expect me to marry Anora, do you? It's just a convenient lie?"
"Yes, you should have trusted me," she agreed, and leaned forward to kiss him over Zevran's shoulder. "And yes, it's a lie. I do tell them when I need to, you know," she chided him, sitting back momentarily to study his face, before she leaned forward to kiss him a second time.
Zevran smiled, as he took in how her wet shirt was clinging to her torso, and struggled with the blankets a moment to get his other arm free. "I like how this looks on you," he observed, reaching out to touch the curve of her breast through the wet fabric.
She laughed, and sat back on her heels, running her eyes over the two of them where they sat cuddled together in their nest of blankets. "I feel overdressed compared to you two," she said.
"But I like how you're dressed," Zevran pointed out.
"Mmm, as do I," Alistair agreed, resting his chin on Zevran's shoulder and stretching out one of his arms to touch her arm, the other wrapping securely around Zevran.
Kalli laughed, and moved forward. "Show me how much," she challenged them, smiling warmly at them.
Zevran drank again from his mug, finishing off the last of the tea in it, and leaned over Alistair's arm to put it carefully off to one side. "Gladly," he said, straightening back up, and leaned forward a little to kiss her, one hand moving to cup her breast, thumb caressing her nipple through the thin fabric. Alistair leaned forward as well, one of his hands sliding in between them to caress her opposite breast, his other arm tightening around Zevran, pulling the elf back against him, and resumed kissing Zevran's shoulder, breaking off when Kalli stopped kissing Zevran and leaned to the side to kiss Alistair over Zevran's shoulder instead. Zevran slid his free hand in between himself and Kalli, squeezing Alistair's hand for a moment, then he brushed the backs of his fingers against Kalli's stomach, trailing slowly downward across the wrinkled wet fabric, before turning his hand to cup over her groin, fingers slipping between her legs and pressing gently upwards.
Kalli growled in approval, pushing against his hand while she ended the kisses and arched backwards a little to give them more room to handle her. Zevran removed his hand from her breast to begin one-handedly unlacing the opening of her shirt, his other hand still stroking between her thighs, Alistair releasing his grip around Zevran to take over fondling her.
It was almost like magic, Zevran sometimes thought, watching his and Alistair's hands working together to tease and excite their lover. Like having enough hands to do everything all at once himself, though sadly he couldn't actually feel what Alistair's hands were feeling, as they stroked over Kalli's pert little breasts, her erect nipples rubbing against his broad palms. But he could feel the way she was pushing against his lower hand, thighs tightening around it; feel, too, the increasing pressure against his own backside as their play excited the warrior at his back, a match to the growing ache in his own groin.
One of Alistair's hands stroked down Kalli's side and then slid slowly upwards again, lifting the damp fabric away from her skin, his other hand lifting to cup against the side of her head, long fingers toying with the shell of her ear. She smiled dreamily, and turned her head to press a kiss against the palm of his hand. Zevran, finished with the laces, reached down and switched hands, so he could mirror the motion of Alistair's lower hand, the two of them drawing her shirt up, Alistair finally releasing her head so that they could pull the shirt off. She unfastened and removed her breastband herself, tossing it and the shirt to join their wet clothes in the corner. All three of them co-operated in the task of peeling her out of her wet leggings and smallclothes, then Alistair lifted up and spread the blankets, like bedraggled wings, and she rose enough to move forward and sit down in Zevran's lap, facing the two of them, her legs wrapping around both their waists. Alistair wrapped the blankets around them again, all three of them snuggled tightly together.
Zevran sighed and smiled, as the three of them began a slow exploration of each other's bodies beneath the enveloping blankets. He loved moments like this, safe and warm and with his two loves. If life could always be like this he would be a happy man. But... well, given they were in the middle of fighting a blight with the aid of a weak alliance of disparate forces, times like this were few and far between, and therefore to be all the more treasured when they did happen.
And this particular time was suddenly interrupted by a bout of sneezing, Zevran burying his nose in the crook of his arm as he sneezed violently several times. He felt dizzy and lightheaded afterwards, sagging between the two of them, barely aware of Alistair cleaning his arm and Kalli fetching more tea until she was holding the mug to his mouth, encouraging him to drink more. He gave in and let the two of them fuss over and take care of him, falling to sleep a little while later spooned comfortingly between the two of them, Alistair at his back and Kalli in front of them, the three of them making a big warm heap together under the blankets.