Title: A Child Unexpected (Part 10 of 12)
Author: skybound2
Characters: Fem!City-Elf PC (Kallian Tabris), Sten, Zevran, Alistair, and Morrigan (the overall fic is Zevran/Tabris with Sten and some others tossed in. Liberally, at times. References Alistair/Tabris, Alistair/Anora, and Zevran/Other.)
Word Count: ~6300 this chapter (~36600 so far)
Rating: T
Summary: Heroes have problems too. That's why they need friends. In this bit: Someone arrives at Weisshaupt. There are discussions.
Spoilers: Through end game. I toss in a reference to a character from "The Calling" in this chapter as well.
Author's Note: Okay, so apparently I am a dirty rotten liar. Cause I believe that last time I said that I wouldn't take so long to update THIS time. And then I take, like, three weeks. BUT I make up for it by nearly doubling my typical chapter length. Hopefully this is a good thing! Also, some lore about the qunari which I was previously unaware has now been made known to me. It Josses a great deal of my views on them, and that makes me sad. BUT, this story is way too far along for me to change it to match, so I guess we'll just have to suspend our level of disbelief even further. Sorry guys! As always: many, many thanks to pennydreadful for the beta! I seriously couldn't do this without you!
Chapter 8
Weisshaupt: Twenty-three Months after the Fall of the Archdemon
With only a quarter day's worth of travel to go, Kallian had become aware of an odor. An odor that she had once upon a time associated with home, but had nearly forgotten overly the past months in Seheron. An odor that made her nose twitch like an Orlesians'.
Dogs.
Wet dogs.
Lots of them.
Her mabari was nearly skipping along the path, yipping at everyone's feet, and making a general racket. Adaia was enjoying the hound's antics immensely, and was taking any opportunity that she could to wiggle out of her sling and waddle along the path as well. She was entirely covered in mud at this point.
A fairly typical day's travel, all in all. Except for the smell, of course.
"Tell me, Wardens: just how many hounds do you have wading around in muck at this fortress of yours?" The question would have been innocent if it hadn't been for the nasally tone with which it was said. A byproduct of Zevran having pinched his nose closed before speaking.
Unsurprisingly, the youngest Warden answered. (Treval, he was called. Identifiable by the brass-colored hair on his head, the sea-burnt skin peppering his cheeks and nose, and the Maker-forsaken habit of practically fluttering his eyelashes and going into a swoon whenever Zevran waltzed on by. Kallian disliked him intently.)
"We have a war hound contingent of approximately 175 dogs, give or take a litter or two." The way that Treval sidled up next to Zevran was too familiar for Kallian's liking.
"Hmm, do they often have such an...intense odor?" Zevran had dropped the hand from his nose at Treval's approach. Kallian's position several paces behind them along the road afforded her the perfect view of that same hand skirting across the exposed skin of Treval's forearm.
"Hah! No. That is a result of the recent rains. The courtyard becomes quite muddy during the wet season." And here, the damnable man smiled, a wide beaming grin. He had too many teeth, as far as Kallian was concerned. "I had no idea you had an interest in hounds, Zev? Aside from our traveling companion here, of course." And oooh, Kallian really hated when he scratched her dog behind the ears. Almost as much as she detested the name 'Zev' falling from his lips as if he had every right to do so.
Which, of course, he did.
Not that Kallian cared or anything. Of course not. She just disliked the little inflection the man placed on the word. Like he was tasting something sweet. That was all. Really.
Attempting to distance herself from Zevran and his hanger-on (who were talking far too closely at the moment), Kallian slowed her steps to join up with Declan in the back. He wasn't her first choice to speak with, but the messenger elf which had accompanied them back from Seheron had been dispatched at Dawn for Weisshaupt. Presumably to bring word of their arrival. Although Kallian thought it likely that he was also being sent to divulge as much information about her as possible. He was nearly as awful a gossip as Treval. And besides, he was practically Declan's puppet. Still, she preferred his company to the Orlesian's. "So I take it that the fortress isn't far ahead?" Her attempt at sounding thrilled may have failed. Just a bit.
The dark-haired Orlesian cocked his head at her, wide-eyed; he made no attempt to hide his curiosity. To be fair, Kallian had side-stepped the man at every turn over the past few weeks. Their last real conversation – for lack of a better word – had set her on edge.
To say that she had little interest in dealing with his judgmental attitude would be an understatement. When he had first introduced himself, he had talked about the awe with which many of the Wardens saw Kallian. What he had failed to clarify was his lack of such an emotion; a previously unknown fact that had made itself abundantly clear during the course of their travels. It should have caused her to feel relieved, but really, it just made her apprehensive.
More than once, she had noticed him watching her – appraising her – from across the deck, and later across the various camp sites they had set up along the trip. Out of everyone in the group, he was also the only one that did not seem completely enamored by Adaia. Treval and the other Warden's doted on her nearly as much as Zevran, but Declan remained detached. Uninterested. And it left her with a distinctly...unsettled feeling.
"You've assumed correctly. We are only a few hours march from Weisshaupt, currently. I suspect we will be there before supper." He lifted his eyes to the sky, drawing her attention to the massing storm clouds overhead. "Assuming there are no further delays, of course."
"Of course." Kallian nodded, and dropped the discussion. Focusing instead on the antics of her daughter, who was currently riding on the shoulders of one of the other Wardens (this one was known as Theo – and he had shoulders that could rival a full-grown tree for width, and a greatsword strapped to his back that would make her qunari smith envious), her tiny hands holding his sizable ears in a death-grip. Not that he seemed to mind, given the overly loud laughter coming from that general direction.
Soon though, her attention was drawn back to pair up front. One of Zevran's hands rested momentarily on Treval's back as he leaned in close to whisper something blush-worthy to the man. Kallian clenched and unclenched her hands. Open, shut, open, shut. The motion calmed her, if only minutely. Then Zevran's head turned, just so, and he locked his gaze with her. One side of his mouth turned up in a smile.
A smile that really had no business causing her heart to skitter in her chest like that.
The two had managed to come to an easy accord over the last few weeks. Zevran had been more open during conversations, less prone to tensing up, or falling into defensive humor. There was still plenty of both, but it wasn't as oppressive as it had once been. She felt like she was slowly, but surely getting her friend back.
Which, of course, was probably why she wanted more now.
It was unlikely, she knew. He hadn't made any serious plays for her bed – that was a blinding clue in and of itself that things were not as they had once been. She had believed, if only for a short time, that his interest in that regard had not truly waned, but then it had become obvious that he was spending his nights in Treval's bed. Despite his claims that easy prey was not always the most worthwhile, he seemed to be enjoying his catch none-the-less.
Still, they had made progress these past few weeks. They even had shared watch duties a time or two (athough that had been limited, for Adaia's sake, as she was much too young to sleep without either Kallian, Zevran, or the faithful hound in the tent with her – and the latter always left Kallian's bedroll covered in excessive amounts of drool). She could clearly recall one of the last nights that they had done such.
"Truly, all of that time amongst them, and you never once took one to bed? To have wasted such an opportunity..." Zevran clucked his tongue. "It is a travesty." He seemed honestly affronted by the idea. She imagined he must have assumed she'd been participating in orgies from the moment she arrived, until they day they left.
Her face heated at the mental image, and she tossed the brown-apple core she had still been nibbling on at him, laughing quietly when he caught it with a deft hand and sent it off into the fire. "You have a rather one track mind, you know that, right?"
"I disagree. My mind is often traveling along many tracks. It is not my fault that so many of the worthwhile ones detour through areas rampant with leather and sex. Makes a dull life considerably more entertaining."
"Quite."
His eyes, slick with heat and humor trailed from her lips to her throat, and back up to make contact once more. She loved having them on her; it made her feel reconnected with her past in a way she had not known she missed. "You still have not answered the question, Warden."
She sighed, wondering what Sten would have to say on the current topic of conversation. It would likely be both succinct and completely accurate. She missed him greatly. "No, Zevran. I opted to not invite random qunari -" here, she held up a hand, "- or not so random qunari to my bed. Aside from the – ahem – ample difference in size, I had a lot to keep me occupied while I was there. Not to mention, my presence was mostly looked down upon by the natives. They didn't care so much to have me hanging about, at least not while my conversion was still unfinished."
Zevran shifted along the log, angling his body closer to hers. "Do you regret not having done so?"
"Which part? Do I regret not having braved possible internal injury for meaningless sex, or do I regret not completing my study of the Qun?"
"Can't I mean both?" He gave her that patented, deadly Zevran smile, and she laughed at him once more.
"No to the first, and a bit to the last. The Qun has many merits. But there is also much I disagree with. But I guess that the same could be said about any philosophy."
"Mmm. Perhaps you are not meant for such a place. Most of the qunari that I have known – which is admittedly not that large of a sample group – seem to embrace the Qun either completely, or not at all. It does not seem to have much to offer in between."
He seemed genuinely thoughtful. Contemplative. It was a look that he did not often wear, but that suited him completely. "There is gray in everything, Zevran."
His smile was small, but kind. "Well said – Grey Warden."
It had been nice, having their once awkward silences drift into companionable ones that were occasionally dotted with anecdotal conversations. She felt like they were truly becoming friends. Something she feared she had taken for granted during the blight.
So engrossed was she in her thoughts that she barely heard the snort from Declan to her right.
"You are, perhaps, too obvious in your interest, Tabris."
"Pardon?"
"Your eyes wander to him too often for anyone to miss, least of all him. He puts on quite a show for you. Preening like a bird. Even his dalliance with Treval is a contrived thing, designed to garner your attention."
To her own irritation, she bristled visibly. "I think you're mistaken. He is a friend, nothing more."
"The little girl riding on Theodore's shoulders is evidence that was not always the case." He shrugged, seeming to be only mildly interested in the topic at hand. She knew this for a lie, however. The lilt to his softly accented voice was a tell she had picked up on sometime ago (mostly thanks to a deck of cards Zevran had managed to procure on board, it was a most entertaining way to pass the time, even if all she did was watch).
"A single discretion." She could only hope that her tells were not so easily revealed as his, despite the uselessness of the denial.
"Hmm. And is that why your face turns that lovely shade of red whenever Treval gets too close?" As if on cue, her face began to heat up. His voice dropped in volume. "May that also explain why you dig your nails into your palms until they leave little bloodied crescents, as they are now?"
"How do you-"
"I pay attention, Tabris. Some consider it to be an admirable trait."
It was her turn to snort. "I'd say that you pry into matters where you are neither needed nor wanted. A distinctly less admirable trait by anyone's standards."
He waved his hand in front of him. "It is a matter of perspective, to be sure. But it is one that I have found to be mostly in my favor over the years."
"Then you have been most fortunate in the circles you ran in." She picked up her pace some, trying to find a balance between walking beside him, and avoiding Zevran. (And subsequently, Treval; as always.)
Declan's eyes light up at her. "You do not care for me, do you Tabris?"
She flicked her gaze back towards him. "My. You do pay attention, don't you?"
When he laughed, it was obscenely loud. Enough so to draw everyone's attention If the twinkle in Declan's eye and the smirk on Zevran's face were anything to go on, they both knew more about what was going on than she did.
It was going to be a long few hours.
~~~\/~~~
The compound – no, the fortress – was one of the most intense structures that Kallian had ever laid eyes on. Immense archways of carved stone sprang up from the ground, wrapping around the sides of the vast cliff face which it nestled against. Beyond and above it – stretching out into the distance – could be seen the far reaches of the Hunterhorn Mountains: black-brown stone against a coal colored sky.
It might have been intimidating, once upon a time. Before she'd delved the Deep Roads, and braved the wrath of a land of irritated qunari. Now it just filled her with dread. Just what would the Warden Commander have to say to her?
They couldn't possibly know about the deal that she had struck with Morrigan. Could they? She felt a pang in her chest at the thought.
As the group crossed over the threshold into the Weisshaupt courtyard (wisely sidestepping several large puddles of mud; except for Adaia, of course – she fit right in), Kallian's lower lip was subjected to some of the worst chewing it had ever had to endure.
Along the western wall of the outer portion of the compound, there was an area dedicated for training. A low lying fence cornered off the area, with sections for archery laid out between sword-battered mannequins. Several Wardens were currently engaged in some kind of row, judging by the grappling going on in the center, and the good-humored laughter egging them on from the sidelines.
To the east, there was a water well, adjacent to what she assumed was a smithy (judging by the black billowing smoke emanating from its metal chimney, and the entrance to a somewhat dilapidated stable. A mottled colored horse was currently latched in front, chewing a bit of straw between its oversized teeth. (A little shudder went up her spine. She never had cared for horses. There was something distinctly off about those teeth.)
The source of the odor that has assailed them along the road became obvious a few moments later when her mabari made a bee-line for the mabari pen located behind the stables. Its baying bark was quickly joined with the sounds of several dozen others, as well as one very irritated hound keeper shouting ineffectually for order.
Adaia started howling happily as well. She tumbled her muddied self, baying and barking as best she could, right into Zevran's calves. He quickly lifted her up, grimacing for only a moment when he was covered in muddy hands and kisses. The situation may have been humorous if she wasn't dealing with a swiftly mounting headache.
She was just preparing to head off after her wayward dog when Treval decided to make himself useful. "I'll fetch him, Tabris. I'd like to check in with the pack at any rate." He smiled that same, annoying, blinding smile again – his eyes focused on Zevran, even whie his words were directed at her. "See if any new litters have been whelped as of late." He ruffled Adaia's hair, letting his hand drag past Zevran's shoulders a moment, before winding his way towards the stables.
During the distraction, Declan took the opportunity to run forward to the guards stationed at the portcullis, but he needn't have bothered. It appeared that they were fully aware of just who was in the little travel party.
"Warden Kallian Tabris? The Warden Commander requests your presence immediately."
Kallian sighed heavily. Why did no one ever give her a chance to eat before being drug off to a meeting? The whole thing simply had to be a conspiracy.
~~~\/~~~
Kallian was lead to a typical meeting room with ceilings raised two stories high, a dais situated near the front with seating for three, and heavy tapestries adorning the walls.
It was the tapestries that drew Kallian's immediate attention, alone in the room as she was. Each one had been woven in painstaking detail. They told a long, and winding tale of – what she assumed to be – the history of the Wardens. On this one, a grotesque mock-up of hurlocks and genlocks, dismembered, and littering a battlefield. On that one, the burnt husks of fallen Warden's, piled beneath a powerful dragon – with one remaining Warden diving in for the kill. Here, there was an image of a chalice held in the grasp of one man, while another looked on, and still another lay dead at his feet. They reminded her a great deal of the carvings she had seen once upon a time in the Deep Roads. Intimidating and breathtaking, and horrific all at once. Nothing at all like the art that adorned the museums of Seheron.
She found it difficult to look away.
Kallian was unaware of how much time passed while she was staring at the hanging fabrics; only the fading light through the windows was an indication that supper had passed. The loud gurgle in her stomach was another.
The sound in her stomach was nearly drowned out by the loud, metallic clanking of the far door being pushed open. She kept her attention directed on the tapestry ahead, but was watching the reflection of the three arrivals in the highly polished suit of arms to her left. Two men (both human) and one woman (an elf), drifted into the room and stopped about halfway through.
Still she did not turn. Let them come to her; it was only fair after all. Seeing as how they made her miss dinner.
"Warden Tabris?" It was the woman that spoke up, the elf. And a mage at that, if the robe she wore was any indication. "Thank you for waiting; there were some matters that needed to be dealt with, and they took longer than expected."
Kallian turned around finally, and clasped her arms behind her back. "I don't suppose any of you brought a crumpet, or perhaps some jerky with you? Someone forgot to show me where the dining hall was."
The men settled down at the chairs along the dais, but the woman lingered. "Our apologies. We will try and keep this discussion brief, so that you may get some food. Traveling by foot is never pleasant." The woman's eyes drifted off into some far-off memory, before she seemed to catch herself. Nodding to no one in particular, she took her seat as well. Leaving Kallian the odd one out, and forcing her to stand near the center of the room, placing them in a position in which they could overlook her from their perch. It was not lost on her that the setting was designed to do exactly that.
The older of the two men – a light-haired man with gray speckling across his brow, and a deep scar across his cheek - spoke up next. "Thank you for joining us, Warden Tabris. Many attempts have been made to locate you these last two years." He gave her a wry smile. "In fact, we have had Wardens looking for you in all corners of Thedas. It was rather surprising to learn that you had been in Seheron all this time." He paused, possibly to let her interject. She did not. "Well then; we have a great many questions for you, as I am sure you are aware. Best that we get started."
"You have me at a disadvantage, Ser. You know my name, but I do not know yours. Perhaps we could exchange that bit of information first, before the questioning begins. "
"I am Commander of the Grey here at Weisshaupt; Enrich is my name. This," he gestured to the man on his left.. "Is Warden Hensley, and she," this time he nodded in the woman's direction, "is the Warden Fiona." Kallian could not help but notice the mangled state of Enrich's hand; evidence of some battle. Kallian nodded, and the Commander continued. "Now, I believe you expressed your interest in eating sometime tonight; perhaps it would be acceptable to you if we dispense with any further pleasantries and get to the matter at hand?"
She bristled at his curt statement, but decided that it would be best to channel Sten for the moment, and behave as the consummate solider for once. "Certainly, Ser."
"Excellent. In which case, perhaps you could tell us – in your own words – just how, precisely, you survived the battle with the Archdemon."
Oh, crap. It just figured that they would lead with this; they couldn't possibly ask her if she had any favorite dishes from Seheron to recommend (birch-berry pie), or if she favored her right hand or her left in battle (the left). She relaxed her stance, and raised an eyebrow, hoping that her inner panic would be well-shielded by her outer attitude. It had never done her wrong in the past. Well, except for where certain pastry-loving qunari, royal bastards, and Antivan assassins were concerned. They always seemed to pierce right through her shields. In all manner of ways. "I had the better sword. Ser."
Enrich frowned, but Hensley and Fiona both had to muffle their laughter. It was quite validating. "Would you care to clarify that some more, Warden?" The emphasis he placed on the word was not unlike Declan's. Obviously, this man had doubts regarding her acceptability as a Warden in the first place.
"I also believe my ability to scale the thing from behind and thrust the blade into its throat played a part. I find that to be a most effective manner in killing things." This time Fiona guffawed openly, and Hensley had a bit of a coughing fit.
Enrich, however, just looked irritated. "Let's back up for a moment." He slowed his words considerably, as if speaking to child. "The Warden Riordan, did he or did he not explain to both you and the now-King what would happen to the Warden who dealt the killing blow to the beast?"
She blinked, but did not hesitate. "He did."
"So then you most understand our confusion. The Warden who fells the Archdemon cannot survive."
"I don't know what to tell you, Ser. Alis– the King and I went into battle expecting death. Accepting it, even." She took a deep breath, pausing a moment both for effect and to gather her thoughts. She was never able to lie to those she knew, but she had long ago learned how to charm those she didn't. She hoped the lack of recent practice wouldn't damn her in this case.
"When the beast was beaten down enough, I saw my opportunity, and went for it. I was knocked back, unconscious. I awoke several hours later, in the care of a healer within my party. I was beaten raw, and bruised. But alive." She shook her head, and tried to hide her trembling hands. The memory still burned bright and horribly in her mind, and was one she'd rather not visit. "I have no idea why I survived, or why the Archdemon didn't. But I could think of little reason to be anything less than ecstatic at the turn of events." She chuckled, hoping to ease some of her tension. "I rather enjoy being alive, you see."
Fiona smiled wanly at her, but both Hensley and Enrich seemed dubious. Long minutes ticked on by (or so it seemed to Kallian) with not a word spoken. The three exchanged glances, some unspoken conversation passing between them. Eventually, they began to murmur amongst themselves, casting the mot minuscule of glances Kallian's way every so often. She was beginning to fidget on the spot, her lip finding its way between her teeth with little thought on her part, when finally Enrich spoke.
"Your daughter – she is just about 15 months old, correct?"
Kallian's back tensed. Damn spying messengerelf. Damn gossiping Treval. "Nearly, yes."
"When, do you suppose, was she conceived? Give or take."
Maker help me. They can't possibly...But the thought was one that Kallian herself had contemplated on several occasions throughout her pregnancy. It was due to more stress during those months than any concern over the father might have been. Made worse by the fact that the ritual she and Alistair had performed with Morrigan was the one topic she would not broach with Sten. (Some things deserved to remain hidden.)
The moment Adaia was born, however, all of those concerns melted away. If ever there was a less magically adept or god-like child in the world, it was Adaia. No, all of the girl's talents and charms were entirely natural – there was nothing other-worldly about her. Of that she was certain.
These Wardens, however, couldn't possibly know that. Maker - the mere fact that they seemed to be implying what she thought they were implying was enough to send her head spinning. Could they possibly have access to the kind of magics that Flemeth and Morrigan did? Was there a repository somewhere listing off all of the things that good little Warden's should never ever try?
Fearing she may have delayed her response overly long, she spouted out the first lie that came to mind, desperate to keep Adaia as far from scrutiny as she could. "She was conceived three days after the siege of Denerim, Ser." She mentally chided herself. Afraid that she might have been too specific. But what else could she do? If they spoke with Declan, or even Treval, they would certainly support the claim that she did not have some long-standing affair with Zevran. She could only hope that the how's and why's regarding Adaia's conception had not been a topic between Zevran and his Warden at least the timeframe was plausible. She was still in Denerim then - there had been a massive feast in celebration of their victory, despite the ruined state of the city.
Enrich blinked his eyes rapidly, seeming taken aback. But it was Fiona that spoke up. "Three days? You are certain?"
Kallian nodded. She kept her hands clasped behind her back where they couldn't see her rubbing her fingers incessantly. "I am. It was...I was only with her father the once. It would be rather hard to forget."
Fiona looked upon Kallian with softening eyes, and gave her a slight smile. But Enrich did not seem so easily convinced. Which was why his next words were so surprising.
"Thank you, Tabris. For the information. Hensley will show you to the dining hall; and then direct you to your room for the evening. I would like to speak with you again in the morning, however. I have some questions regarding some of your companions during the blight that I would like answered."
Kallian sucked in a breath, hoping against hope that they would not delve too far into matters best left untouched. "Of course, Ser."
Kallian glanced one last time at the tapestries before she was shown out of the room; a fiery colored one with a glowing mage at its center, darkspawn dancing around it, caught her eye. The woman on the cloth reminded her of Morrigan, primed as she was to think of the witch. There was a tangled knot in her stomach that made her think it was time to share a bit more with Zevran than she had ever intended before. If only for Adaia's sake.
Oddly enough, she was no longer hungry.
~~~\/~~~
They claimed that it wasn't a trial, but Zevran begged to differ. Kallian had been shuffled off within minutes of their arrival. His anger at the Wardens was only surpassed by his anger towards Kallian, who just swanned off to parts unknown in this maze of a compound, to answer questions that obviously made her sweat just to think about, with barely more than a brief request that he watch after their daughter while she was gone.
He snorted. As if there was any doubt that he would. Had he not just spent the past month and more proving to her that he could be trusted when it came to their daughter? Showing her how wrong she had been to keep him from the girl? He had done everything in his power to illustrate his feelings on the manner. (Sure there had been the occasional mast-scaling, or that one incident with deathroot extraction - but no one had been seriously harmed! Of course, even he could admit that it might not have been advisable to have begun teaching Adaia rope-work, she was surprisingly good at getting things all knotted up.)
He'd even maintained his distance from Kallian, difficult as that was. Allowed their involvement to be that of friends, nothing more. It had required a great deal of effort on his part (and many tumbles into Treval's bed), especially when she was appraising him with hungry eyes. A look that he was accustomed to seeing from many, but never from her. Not save the once. He didn't even think that she was aware of how much she gave away with that look.
Learning that she had been entirely celibate while living with Sten had been quite the shock, but it also explained oh-so-very-much about those looks. None of which was comforting. It had helped him to maintain his resolve, however. Their lives were much too complicated at the moment to allow for just some casual dalliance. He could no longer afford for her to run away. Not with Adaia in the mix.
It was a sobering thought. Realizing that sex could complicate matters. He'd always pitied people who felt that way in the past.
His anger and irritation slackened off to genuine worry after two hours. And now, now he was reduced to wearing a hole in the stone-floor of the assigned bed chamber while he awaited her arrival.
A time was when he wouldn't have had to wait. When he could have crept into the shadows, and found himself a perfect perch outside whatever room (or cell) they had her sequestered in. But he was loath to leave Adaia alone in this place. Neither did he trust her in the hands of any of these newly met Wardens. (Treval and their other Warden traveling companions had been called off for debriefing almost immediately; and Zevran and Adaia had not seen them since.) Having already eaten dinner, Adaia was too worn out from all the excitement of the day to keep her eyes open any longer, so Zevran had been confined to the bed-chamber,with no way of learning what was going on with Kallian for far longer than he would have liked.
"Zevran?" Kallian was standing in the doorway, a perplexed look on her face that surely mirrored Zevran's. He could hardly fathom how preoccupied he must have been to have missed her entrance entirely.
At his surprised glance, she backed out of the room a step, examined the door with narrowed eyes, and then stared down the hall before crossing back inside once more. "'m sorry, maybe I got a bit lost. The housekeeper said that this would be my room."
"And indeed it is." Aches and pains that he hadn't even been aware of were building up quickly dissipated as he threw himself lengthwise onto the bed, enjoying the feeling of the straw-stuffed mattress giving way beneath his weight. He sighed happily as he laced his hands behind his head.
"Oddly enough, the Warden's do not typically house children in their dorms. The only room with enough privacy for Adaia was this one." He gestured towards the adjacent space, no larger than a closet, which held a small cot. Adaia was happily tucked in beneath several light blankets on top.
Kallian paused for several seconds, regarding Zevran with a familiar, critical eye. Seeming to accept the situation, she shut the door with a reverberating clang. "So you, what? Figured that we'd share?"
Zevran silently delighted over the change in her posture, watching as she crossed her arms in front of her chest, accentuating some rather lovely assets. His eyes flickered down in quite the obvious manner, as he stretched out once more along the bed, his tunic splaying openly across his chest. The blush that stained her cheeks at her own momentary distraction with his movement pleased him immensely. "It seemed a sensible notion. The Wardens do not seem to be well-equipped to deal with the likes of us. Do you disagree?"
"I...no." He so loved when she blushed.
He leaned forward, never taking his eyes from her as he began to unlace his boots. "I promise to maintain a respectable distance at all times, if that is your concern."
She took a solitary step forward, a playful grin in place. "And if I don't wish for you to maintain a respectable distance?"
Zevran's blood pulsed in his veins at that look. The suggestion was one he hadn't been expecting. She always looked, but never offered. Never made a play. And while part of him wanted nothing more than to pounce on her, throw her to the bed and remind her just want they could do - could be - together, he held himself back. His voice came out as a purr nonetheless.
"While that is a most intriguing thought - one that I would love to discuss with you in more detail at another time - for now I would like to learn what the other Wardens had to say." She frowned, and Zevran pressed his palms flat on the matress, and swung hisnewly bared feet to the floor. With a swagger in his step, he crossed the distance to her, and moved forward into her personal space, unable to resist her entirely. "Afterward, if you are amendable, we can discuss just what qualifies as 'respectable'."
Her breath tickled his throat as she exhaled, but then she stepped back and crossed over to where Adaia lay. She touched a hand to their daughter's cheek, and pressed a kiss to her forehead before walking the length of the room, stopping at the tiny wardrobe along the far wall. "The meeting went surprisingly well, actually. But I fully intend to receive a more robust inquisition tomorrow. Tonight, though, they really just wanted one question answered." Several beats of his heart went by while she composed herself. Her voice sounding smaller when she finally spoke. "They just wanted to know how I survived killing the Archdemon."
Old wounds were prickled open by that statement, but Zevran did his best to keep the evidence hidden. "I admit that I have been equally curious."
Surprised wide-eyes turned to him. "You have?"
"Mmm. Yes. Ever since Alistair let slip the tiny, nearly inconsequential bit of information regarding the obliteration of a Warden's soul, in exchange for dealing the final blow. That sort of thing tends to stick out in a person's mind." Okay, so perhaps he was not keeping his emotions as well hidden as he'd intended. "In fact, I believe I have detailed to you the great many sad and ridiculous attempts he made trying to keep you out of this exact Fortress, quite specifically because he didn't want you to deal with that question."
She worried her lip, like always. "He said that?"
Zevran waved her off, and moved along the side of the bed, until he was only a few feet from her once more. "Not in so many words. No. There were more bumbling, misplaced jokes, and a reference to cheese involved. But the implications were all there, I assure you."
She looked nervous, and Zevran thought that maybe she might finally be willing to fill in some of the gaps. "So tell me, just what did you tell these other Wardens about how the 'Hero of Ferelden' survived?"
Her eyes, those icy blue jewels that he adored, were filled with worry. "I told them a lie."
Zevran sucked air in between his teeth. "Ahh, I suspected as much. You have proven most capable in that regard, I'm sure you sold it completely." In truth, he wasn't. But he wasn't about to confess that to her. "And what, pray tell, are you going to tell me?" He tried not to let his skepticism leak into his voice, but he had so many reasons to doubt her.
"The truth."
~TBC