Just a little note here to state that this snippet is pre-romance. Just a little reflection on how the two men might not be as different as they thought.


The Market District in Denerim was alive with activity. The laughter and shouts of grimy children running around mixed with the cries of the vendors, filling the square with noise. Zevran mused that Andraste would have done better to assign merchants with the task of spreading her Chant to all four corners of the world rather than her disciples: the honeyed voices of the vendors here could persuade people to buy anything.

The deep voice of the warrior standing nearby cut through Zevran's thoughts. "This is the family I've been looking for all my life? That…shrew…is my sister? I can't believe it." Zevran wandered away from the discussion Alistair and Natia were having, not wishing to get involved.

It had come as no surprise to him that Alistair's half-sister had been nothing but a greedy bitch, but apparently it had surprised Alistair. But really, what did the man expect? He had waltzed into some complete stranger's house, declared himself her long-lost brother, told her he was a Grey Warden and the son of Maric, and he was actually shocked that she had demanded a hand-out!

Alistair was much too naïve for his own good. How the man had survived in the world this long was beyond him. Sooner or later he would realize that life was hard and cruel, and he'd be the better for knowing that.

From the set of Natia's jaw, Zevran suspected she was telling Alistair pretty much the same thing. And by the droop of his shoulders it seemed the warrior was not taking it well. Ah well, he will learn eventually.

oOoOo

That night, Zevran and Alistair shared first watch; Natia insisted that everyone take watch in pairs, most likely because Leliana had a tendency to fall asleep during her shifts. As usual, Alistair did his best to ignore Zevran, sitting as far away from him as possible but near enough to the campfire to draw warmth from it. Zevran knew it wasn't that Alistair disliked him, not really, it was more that Zevran made him extremely uncomfortable. He couldn't imagine why.

"So, my friend," Zevran began, "how is it that you are still a virgin, hmm? We have met many fine young women on our travels."

Alistair groaned. "Zevran, why is it that every single conversation you have is about sex."

Zevran gave him a wicked grin. "I enjoy talking about things that are pleasurable. And there is nothing more pleasurable than sex, my friend." He paused a moment, "Alcohol is good as well. In fact, I can think of no greater pleasure than drinking wine whilst making love."

"Can we please talk about something other than sex?" Alistair begged.

Zevran pulled a whetstone from his pack and began sharpening his dagger. "We could talk about your sister if you'd like. She was most entertaining."

"Oh yes, thank you," Alistair said sarcastically, "that's a much better topic. I don't think." He shifted uncomfortably and looked over at Zevran. "I suppose you're going to yell at me too?"

Zevran paused in his work, "Not at all, I am sure Natia did a good enough job of that." He smiled humorously. "Though I hope you have learned your lesson."

Alistair threw up his hands. "What is it with you people? Is it so wrong to want a connection with somebody?" He sighed. "I just thought she'd be glad to meet me, to have a brother. Doesn't family just accept each other?"

Zevran shrugged, and continued sharpening his blades. "I wouldn't know about that, I have no family myself." For some reason, Alistair's open face move him to elaborate. "My mother died giving birth to me; I have no idea who my father was."

"So did mine," Alistair said, "I mean my mother. Died when I was born, that is." He flushed, embarrassed. Zevran thought the man's awkwardness was actually rather endearing, though he would never tell him that.

Alistair leaned forward, suddenly seeming to take great interest in the fire and pointedly not looking at Zevran. "Do you, um, do you know anything about her?"

Zevran was nonplussed, wondering at Alistair's sudden interest in him. "Well, aside from the fact that she was a whore," he chuckled as Alistair made a choking sound, "all I know for certain is that she was Dalish."

He paused, thinking. "When I was a child I had a pair of gloves that belonged to her, of Dalish make. They were the only thing of hers that I had, but of course the Crow Master took them away from me. Natia found a similar pair when we were in Haven," he held up his hands so Alistair could see the gloves he was wearing, "they are not exactly the same, but…" he trailed off, shrugging.

Alistair tugged on the chain around his neck, pulling the pendant out from where it was hanging beneath his breastplate. Zevran recognized it as a symbol of Andraste. "This was my mother's," Alistair said, "when Arl Eamon sent me to the Monastery I was so mad at him that I threw it at the wall, shattering it. Natia found it in the Arl's study; I guess he repaired it at some point."

Laughing softly, Zevran shook his head. "Our fearless leader is very good at finding gifts it seems."

Alistair grinned, and Zevran was taken aback at how handsome the young warrior looked. Of course, Zevran had taken note of his good looks on the very first day they had met, but there was something about the man's smile—it seemed to light up his whole face.

Alistair went back to staring at the fire, once again pointedly avoiding looking at Zevran. "Doesn't it bother you? Not having a family?"

"Of course not." Zevran was starting to get irritated—he disliked talking about such sentimental things. "Why would it bother me?"

"Well, don't you wish you had someone you were close to?"

Zevran snorted. "I am an assassin Alistair, I have been trained almost my entire life to not get close to anyone."

Alistair stared at him, appalled. "You're not supposed to be close to anyone? What—why not?"

"It is dangerous. An enemy will use any weakness you have to defeat you." Zevran put down the whetstone and dagger and looked at Alistair. The look of concern on the man's face was unsettling.

He grinned and clapped Alistair on the back. "Do not worry yourself, my friend, I have more than enough in my life to make me happy." A lie of course, but Alistair didn't need to know that. He thought it best to end this discussion. "If you would like, I could show you some of these pleasurable things."

Alistair rolled his eyes. "Maker Zevran, is sex really the only thing you ever think about?"

Zevran gave him a look of mock-hurt. "I am truly crushed that you would think me to be so shallow. Here I was trying to offer comfort and you are trying to turn it into something lewd."

"I wasn't 'trying to turn it' into anything," Alistair grumbled, "S'not my fault you have a one-track mind."

"Hmm, well seeing as how I did not once use the word 'sex', I would think you are the one that is single-minded." He laughed in triumph when he saw Alistair blush.

Alistair raised his hands in defeat. "Fine, fine, you win. As usual." He stood up. "I'm going for a walk around the perimeter, make sure everything's safe."

Zevran hid a smile, certain that Alistair was more interested in getting away from him than he was concerned for the safety of the camp. "Good idea."

Turning to leave, Alistair stopped. "You know Zevran, I never would have guessed that you and I had something in common. Maybe you're not as bad as I thought." He gave a small smile before setting off towards the edge of the camp.

Zevran leaned back on his hands, shaking his head in wonder. He had thought he had Alistair all figured out. But now…he wasn't so sure. The warrior actually seemed pleased that he and Zevran shared some kind of common bond. Maybe he wasn't as naïve as Zevran believed—maybe he was just lonely.

"Alistair," he called, then waited for the man to come back. "My friends call me Zev."

The warrior just stood there for a moment, taken aback. Then he broke out into another one of those beautiful smiles. "Good to know. Zev."