Chapter Summary:

Fall away, Zevran.

Warden will catch you.

Nyla had been speaking in her sleep, breathy words dying off as her eyes drifted open. Blinking in the early morning sun shining through a smattering of leaves far overhead, the sleepy fog lifted. "Shit."

She sat up, a grey cloak slid from her shoulders and pooled around her waist. He was sitting right next to her, alert, bearded. She smiled at him widely.

"Good morning, Commander. Awfully chatty. What's this about Zevran? Isn't that your assassin?" He flashed her a charming smirk and handed her a water skin, some bread, and meat.

"Shit! Anders!" Nyla's smile felt permanent. She reached out with both hands and ruffled his hair. "Shit! Anders! Shit shit shit!"

"Smiling? That's new. I didn't know you knew how to do that without excessive provocation." He chuckled and swatted her hands away.

"I thought you were dead. There was a corpse, we assumed it was yours. I was… deeply saddened." A grievous understatement, given that she flew angry, demanding someone's head on a pike. He was my charge, you do not take a Grey Warden into custody! She sighed deeply and couldn't help smiling at him again.

"Aww. Drink and eat, before you die. So malnourished! What were you doing in there alone? Commander, you're a mess. You could have died, or worse." He lectured with a stern tone laced with concern. "By the way, I've sealed this entrance. They won't be a problem, for now."

"Well done, Anders. I miss having you around for that." Nyla furrowed her brow. Did he just admonish the Commander? Ah, well, he wasn't wrong. She spoke with her mouth full, "I've fucked up. Possibly one of the biggest fuckups of my entire life, and as you know, I have fucked up a lot. I need to find Zevran."

"Find him where? Did he get lost in the Deep Roads?" He looked deeply perturbed, his troubled gaze landing on the sealed entrance.

"Maker's breath, no." She imagined it; Zevan in the cold and dark without supplies, and her sense of urgency deepened. "I got lost in the Deep Roads, he's out here somewhere. He probably believes I'm dead. I have to get moving. If I had a map-"

"I have several." He sifted through his pack and handed it to her. "Is he your traveling companion now?"

"He is..." Nyla looked up at him and sighed sadly, "More."

"Ooh. Another lost love. That seems to keep happening to you."

"I've fucked up, and I won't stop until I find him and fix this." She shook her head peering down at the map and tracing with her finger. "Where the fuck are we?"

Anders pointed out their location, and she had to look twice at what she discovered. Only six hours walking if she didn't stop to rest.

"I have to go. Thanks for everything." Nyla began slipping her gloves back on "Are you hiding from us? Will I see you again?"

"You won't." Anders smiled. "I'm glad we get to say goodbye, though. You were good to me, Commander. Happy to have saved you from… whatever that was."

"Trust me, cheeky boy, nobody is happier about that than I am." She stood and slung her pack over her shoulder.

"Oh I know! You were screaming, and you tried to cut your own throat! It was hilarious."

She sighed, blinking rapidly as clear memory of it struck her. "Sorry you had to see that." She turned from him and began walking away and she stopped, realizing she wasn't quite done. "I've… missed you, Anders. I hope I do get to see you again. Hope you get to meet Zevran. Please, tell me where you're headed? I promise not to tell anyone."

"No." He strode to her and pulled her into a hug and she squeezed him tightly. "Bye, Commander."

She smiled, looking back at Anders as she began her trek; he smiled and started walking in the opposite direction. After a few moments of jogging, Nyla stopped.

"Wait! Will you tell me what you're doing here?" She called out to him.

"Nope!" Anders kept walking.

"Why the fuck not?" She cackled, delighted and frustrated because he was being typical Anders!

He kept walking, raising an arm as if waving, speaking playfully in a sing-song voice, "Bye, Commander!"

Resuming her jog, Nyla whispered a small prayer that Zevran was still there, she couldn't think of a single reason why he would be. He just had to be. If he wasn't, she would never stop searching.

What was she going to say if she found her love again? Does she just… stroll up to him? What will I say? Will he be angry? Relieved? Will he allow me close to him again?

She let her hair down to protect her from the subtle chill on the wind, briefly brushing it with her fingers. She walked hard, sometimes jogging, the urgency she felt was palpable. A few hours in and things began to look familiar; she was making good time. Nyla pushed thoughts of trying to figure out what she would say if she found him. Focus, Cousland. Stay on task. Another hour later, she was looking at where they dismounted together. It felt like so long ago. Her heart pounded and she began to pray. Maker, please let him be there… Rounding the corner of the very cliff face she demolished, she saw him, sitting in front of the sealed entrance she left behind her.

Sitting before a backdrop of brightly colored flowers, he had more in his hands. Maker, what have I done? The pain in her heart was amplified by the cheerful beauty of the shrine she was beholding. She set her pack on the ground and removed her gloves. I can fix this. Her tender gaze rested on him. He did not even acknowledge someone was approaching him and her heart sank hard; he had no intent to defend himself. He didn't care who was walking up to him.

His shoulders were not straight and proud, his hair hung lazily against his cheeks, eyes were downcast and he was fingering the petals of a pink and blue flower. She didn't know what to say. She approached him, very slowly. Pained lines marked his face, and it made him look aged and tired; never had she seen him like this. Nyla ached to take his pain away, ached over the devastation she had brought him after all he had given her.

"Zevran?" she spoke softly, tears thick in her voice. "Perdón que te haya dejado. I'm sorry." I'm sorry I left you.

He looked up at her, the storm in his eyes tore at her heart. Lines of tired misery painted his every feature, and it took her breath away.

Zevran was stunned. Nyla had survived the Deep Roads and had come to find him. She was speaking warmly to him, in Antivan. Hair disheveled, dried blood was stuck to her forehead and neck, and she was filthy, covered in dirt and grime. She looked so very exhausted, but so very alive. He could not imagine what she had been through to come back to him.

"¿Te puedo tocar?" May I touch you? She spoke tearfully, unmoving, waiting for a response.

He parted his lips but no words would come, just the threat of a sob from deep in his chest; Zevran could see her love for him, her longing, and it hurt sweetly. Nyla kneeled down in front of him. His eyes followed her. She was weeping, whispering apologies as she reached a trembling hand toward him. Zevran leaped, wrapping his arms around her. They clung to each other tightly.

"Estabas muerta." You were dead, Zevran whispered into her shoulder. "Yo te necesitaba." I needed you. He trembled, wanted to cry, but nothing would come. "Nyla did not have me."

"No te preocupes mi cielo, jamás volveré a dejarte." Be still, my sweet, I will never leave you again.

Nyla pulled back to rest her forehead against his, her heart was breaking under the strain of having him in her arms again; she had him back, she was not going to fuck this up. "I'm sorry. I've failed us both. Please, come with me, back to where we were. Let me catch you."

Zevran followed her lead, responding with a nod. The fog in his mind wasn't so much unsettling as it was inhibiting his clear thinking; he had to trust her because no other choices were apparent to him. He felt lost.

"Zev." Nyla looked at him, lips quivering, forehead wrinkled and eyes misted over. He offered a half-hearted, tired smile; it was all he could muster. She touched his face in tender understanding and whispered, "I have you."

The dark of night was upon them when they settled in their familiar camp, with bodies tended to and campfire blazing, Nyla sat by him. She did not call him out on his silence, she let it be, until it was suffocating.

"How long was I gone, Zev?" She whispered, feeling the relief of just having him there. There was a gentleness between them, as if anything but softness would destroy the other completely. Still, she dreaded his answer. How long did I leave you in such torment, my sweet?

"Three days," he whispered, tears behind his eyes threatened at his memory of the pain of abandonment, betrayal and his failure.

"I can see you're hurting. I want to fix this." She was gentle as she spoke. Zevran picked a blade of grass and spun it idly between his fingers, saying nothing. "You said I read Alistair's letter wrong. Would you tell me how?"

"Ah." He smiled weakly, his eyes sad and tired. "I wish I could have explained this sooner, I…" he sighed, feeling weighed down by this secret, "didn't know how to. Or when."

Nyla sat closer to him until her leg touched his. He did not seem opposed to the closeness, but he didn't welcome it either. She kept her tone soft. "Will you look at me as you speak?" When he did, she did not feel better for it. There was something new in his voice and countenance, his eyes; it hit her again, that through her actions, the man who held her heart may have been too deeply wounded.

"One night, Alistair and I, we were on watch together and we were drinking. A lot. Many of my best stories of him begin this way." Zevran spoke sadly. "He was so very in love, and once he ran out of things to say about your greatness, he began... speaking of his enjoyment of, um… your physicality, and I made the mistake of joining in on it."

"What?" She snorted, face heating, feeling twinges of embarrassment. Men!

"He mentioned an amazing bosom, and I made mention of an exquisite hip to waist ratio. That did not seem to bother him as much as what I did with my hands." He waved his hands through the air, making an hourglass shape. "He became angry, we brawled, I was more defending than fighting. Possessive and jealous man just needed to let it out. He went on and on. He said he knew I wanted you, I needed to keep my hands off of you, keep my shirt on in camp, things of that nature."

"I… I don't like that." She furrowed her brow and frowned. She was already having to fight off the sadness of hearing a story about her lost love. Imagining that lost love attacking Zevran was almost too much. Tempering her urge to find something to throw, she spoke with as much patience as she could muster. "No, that makes me feel quite angry."

"It's quite alright, Nyla, I assure you. He wasn't wrong, you're an attractive woman, and we flirted more than we should have, he did not understand our playing. I should have known better than to say that to him, given what I knew about his insecurities. We were drunk, these things needed to come out. It was resolved in the end. He apologized, I apologized. It was a bonding experience. Anyway." He continued with a sad sigh, missing his friend keenly. "He was referencing that night, in the letter. I took it to mean that he was, in his light-hearted and distant manner, referencing my attraction to you, and that if something were to come between us…" his voice trailed off and he paused for thought. "Alistair was… smarter, wiser, than most gave him credit."

"I know," she softened, her eyes grew moist with unshed tears. "I don't blame you for anything. I just wish there was a way you could have told me. While moving forward with you felt good, it wasn't right. Not with my feelings for Alistair unresolved. Knowing what I know now, I see you as a sort of… gift he sent to me and… it would have made my thinking a little easier. Maker … I hope I'm making sense."

Zevran looked away from her, nodding and feeling his shame. Shame for not sharing truths that would have made her feel safer, and possibly stopped her from getting so confused and twisted. You almost killed her… he pushed the thought back down.

"Nyla..." He spoke gently, his lips quivering and his eyes closed, he couldn't look at her. "Why did you go?"

"It felt like I had to... " She nearly cried at the memory of cold and darkness, facing her death, the war she had waged within herself, how she longed for the warmth of Zevran. She sighed deeply. "It wasn't planned. I had to rationalize it moment to moment. I regretted it, off and on. Mostly, I'm just glad to be alive. Glad that I'm with you right now. I missed you."

"Mm," he mused flatly, not meaning to be cold, he just couldn't feel anything. "You seem different."

"I still hurt, but it's different now. I don't feel overpowered by it. It's all so hard for me to explain, or maybe I'm just a different kind of crazy. I worked out some very important things as I faced my own end."

"Share with me?" He looked at her finally, feeling curious, resentful and desperately wanting to know what she gained that was worth all the suffering they endured. All he could see was everything demolished, trust lost.

"I'll try…" She thought for a few moments. "When Alistair died... I struggled with the burden of my being the one to survive. Alistair said he wanted to be a good king, and killing the archdemon would be his first and last act as king. Well, I wanted to be a good queen, and he took that from me, and my heart as well." When she looked up, she still had his attention. "I lived, instead of the King of Ferelden. He did my duty and now I'm beginning to feel like I can… forgive us both." She sighed with the relief of speaking it, and was quiet for a moment. He seemed distant and she longed to feel closer to him, but he was still listening.

"I loved Alistair. I still feel that love, but my darkest times were not only about him. I realize now, it was just the final blow. After he died, my only ally was gone, there was no help for me, no hope. At least, that's what I had believed at the time." She leaned in toward Zevran and her voice quivered. "It seemed like I needed to go. It was a rash choosing." She paused, hoping he would say something. He looks empty, tired… he's still grieving . What have I done to him?

"Zev, I was afraid. I felt myself moving on and so quickly and… I was so confused and… I was afraid I was relying on you too much. You helped me see the light, it would have been unfair to make you be the light. The path we were on together… it wasn't right. I didn't think I was good for you."

"I see," Zevran felt angry for a moment, and then unable to feel much at all. Still cut off from himself, he had no will to search for anything.

"You see." She repeated his words, crushed by such a simple reply after struggling to share something so heartfelt. What she shared barely grazed the surface of what truly happened, and she was trying so hard! Couldn't he see how she was struggling? Why couldn't he see her reaching out to him? Cringing and tears welling, she had a strong urge to just… throttle him! "You see?"

"I understand your turmoil, your journey. I understand your rationale." He spoke plainly. He could see her hurting, normally he would care.

"I see," she whispered, the apprehension in his gaze hurt, and the absolute fucking nothing he was giving back stung and infuriated her. She prodded him stiffly. "You could tell me what it was like for you." He stared at her blankly. "Go on. Let me have it."

"I have nothing to say, Warden. I am not angry with you, I understand you." He looked toward the fire again, the softness he almost felt for Nyla hurt too much for him to hold his gaze on her. He wasn't about to let himself go there. It wasn't safe to feel softness for this woman and he wasn't even sure why he was still sitting there.

Nyla was not okay with his distance, how he cut himself off from her. It made no sense for him to shut her out now. After all they had been through. As if I don't matter to him! As if what we had was nothing!

Looking at him, empty and cold, numb, pushing her away as if she were a stranger. She remembered the way she struck him when he found her in Orlais... startling, how they had come full circle.

"How about starting here..." She stood up, postured and spoke angrily, mimicking his accent, "You ran off into the Deep Roads, leaving me with your horse and all of your shit to deal with!"

Feeling a spark of anger, Zevran glared at her and his lips twitched with an almost imperceptible snarl, his brow furrowed.

"How about," she continued more passionately, "I thought you were dead and I grieved you for three days!"

Shaking his head, his glare hardened. His lips pursed, taking the shape of disgust, and he clenched his jaw.

"Not quite hitting the mark?" She taunted him, growling in frustration, nearly crying at the thought that occurred to her.

Nyla braced herself to shatter him, and felt remorse for being the one who would solidify such a message. "Warden, I am tired of opening my heart for it to be fractured by my failures." She ached to hold him, seeing the anguish in his eyes. "I thought I killed you." She let the words hang there for a moment as his face darkened. "Just like Rinna."

"Enough!" He jumped up, his heart leaping uncomfortably in his chest. He stormed away from her with a sudden urge to rage and cry. He walked a few wide paces before the upwelling of devastation truly hit him. He strode back to her.

"I believed you were dead and I fucking suffered. I suffered, Nyla. I blame myself for not having what you needed, and yes, the wound of Rinna was torn wide fucking open. She would not have bled to death at my feet if I had trusted her. I learned from that and trusted you. Oh, I have a much greater understanding of the lessons I learned as a Crow. I have been reckless."

She hadn't thought of that. Why hadn't I thought of that? She had never meant to reaffirm the bullshit the Crows had taught him; the bullshit he miraculously untrained himself from. She met his eyes. Despite Nyla's desire to be strong, tears spilled down her cheeks. Feeling a deep sense of panic, she felt as though Zevran was lost even to himself.

With bleary eyes Zevran continued passionately. Stiff, angry gestures punctuated his words as he raged at her.

"I had to face it alone. My only ally was gone. I had to confront my shame, my failures, my loss, the... the loneliness I was feeling. How weak and foolish I felt, tormented by the shirt you wore because it smelled just fucking like you. Tormented by thoughts of how I ruined you with all we had shared. I longed for you, Nyla." He grew colder, angrier as a thought occurred to him, "I longed for a woman who left me, when I would have given her anything!"

He turned away from her, quietly growling in Antivan, speaking so quickly she could only pick out a few words. "Pathetic. Idiocy. Foolishness!" Nyla was unsure if he was talking about her or himself. Zevran turned to her and pointed a finger, tears threatening, arms shaking with the rage coursing through him and his voice raised.

"You wanted to be better, you say? You wanted to be good enough for me? Bullshit! There was absolutely nothing wrong with the way you were. I never expected you to become suddenly healed to perfection. I never demanded that of you! Nyla, I had you! Still you chose to run to the Deep Roads of all places, to your own death, rather than trust yourself with me. What we had feels spoilt by your actions, Nyla! And how dare you take away everything I held dear and tell me it was so you could bring me something better!"

"Oh, Maker, darling, no. That's not…" Nyla whimpered, sweeping her hand over her hair. He was right. On all counts, he was right and she felt lightheaded with a wave of overwhelming remorse. She slowed down, breathed. Keep it together, Cousland, this isn't final. This isn't the truth. He is hurting and needs you now more than ever. "I'm here," she struggled, encouraging him to continue. "I have you. I am still your ally."

"Oh, now she has me!" He growled, and then he gazed at her; soft eyes holding him, seeing right through him.

Zevran cringed, recoiled, nearly sobbing. It was overwhelming that she still cared for him after his onslaught just moments before. How he let loose on her, blaming her for everything he felt, and she still had him. Zevran spoke softer, his hands held with palms up, as if pleading for her understanding.

"Such hatred you bear for yourself. It's too dark, and I have seen you choose darkness time and time again. I don't know how to begin to trust you again. I have never been close enough to anyone for them to hurt me like this." Zevran growled, burying his face in his hands. What to do with so much hurt… When he looked up, Nyla could see his tears. His voice, quivering and rife with fury, was almost foreign to her, "And I fucking shouldn't have!"

"Stop right there," she commanded with a pointed finger. "Zevran Arainai that is… utter bullshit!" Her eyes went wide and she was shaking. "You know better!"

"Would I have gotten shattered as I did, if I didn't allow it? If I had done as I was taught and kept myself hardened?" Zevran turned his head away to hide the tears.

"Zevran, it is normal to fall in love , " Nyla could collapse in upon herself, but she wouldn't. She would fight this to her very death.

"In love? With you?" He growled, exasperated. "How would you know such a thing?"

"How would I know? It's not that fucking difficult, Zevran! It's a feeling !" She pressed her fist to her heart.

"Feelings are everywhere," he waved a dismissive hand at her, trying to push her away, fighting the ache of betrayal. "This tells me nothing."

"Then I will tell more, since it's so damned elusive to you," she growled impatiently. His eyes were on hers; challenging, apprehensive and expectant.

This was harder than she thought.

"It's when you… you have them. You know they have you." Staring into tearful, pained eyes, she sighed deeply and thought of him, and let it tumble from her. "Thier smile, their laughter is infectious. You know they're near just by how the air feels and you let them see your tears… and you want them to know your secrets, and you want to know theirs no matter how dark. They matter. Your choices, plans, desires change based on your being with them. There are mysteries within yourself that occur, and unfold as you are with them."

Nyla began shaking, crying as Zevran stared at her in abject confusion. He wasn't getting it, still! "You see their hurt and want more than anything to set them free. It's when you forgive the horrible things they have done even when they can't." Pain exploded in her heart, missing Zevran, missing his love. She continued after a few breaths to slow down the tears.

"We all die Zevran, but when you think of your love, and you look at him," Nyla trembled helplessly, "The weight of death feels so heavy because..." She was seeking the words, gazing into golden eyes, affection gone, replaced by resentment. Not him. Please, Maker, take anyone but him.

Face contorted from tears, she wavered on her feet, wrapping her arms around herself, trying to steady herself within the storm of anguish all around her. I lost you, Alistair, and then I stamped out the light… my light… my Zevran…

She watched him closely, as if it were her last chance to see him. His brow furrowed, he looked frustrated and cold and she felt even further away from him. She longed for him, her heart whimpering under the strain of it.

"Bah!" He waved his hand at her dismissively, "By this logic, I have loved you since a week after knowing you."

Complete silence, as Zevran felt his own words reverberating in his skin.

"Fuuuck!" She nodded her agreement through tears, "Yes!" It was the most beautiful thing Nyla had ever heard; so beautiful, so perfect, and it hurt like crazy.

He watched her, his world collapsing around him. He resisted feeling the truth in it; it made the heartbreak that much bigger. This woman had walked away from him forever, twice, caring nothing about him.

Zevran wiped his cheek with the back of his hand and looked at the ground, his lips pursed and trembling with the effort of needing and wanting to express so much. Zevran had never shed so many tears in his life since he found her in Orlais, and words were not enough to erase the damage, the devastation that she repeatedly left in her wake.

"Maker, damn it, Zevran!" She shouted, feeling the despair of having her love within reach but so far from her grasp. He finally saw it, it was right there, he pointed to it himself, FUCK! "You look at what you just said!" Still he would not look at her. She strode closer to him, closing the distance. "Admit that you love me. Stop fucking fighting it!"

She was standing so close. When he met her gaze, she was sobbing, crumbling to pieces, and he tried hard not to weep with her.

"I'm sorry I left you. You had me, but I did not have you. I never meant to hurt you like this. Te amo, Zevran. I love you." Nyla spoke her truth, and she never imagined she would have the chance to say those precious words to another man.

Nyla braced herself for another cold dismissal. She just wanted to fucking touch him, make him hear her promises, make him feel her love. She was ready, she was there with wide open arms! Fuck! So frustrated, so much regret, so much hurt!

It was the second time anyone had ever said those words to Zevran, and he immediately remembered the first with startling clarity. It shook him to his core, throttled him awake and his full attention snapped to his Warden.

Moments passed, filled with the sounds of her weeping, and the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. The bravery seems to come so easily to her… Zevran softened a little more.

His Warden did leave, but she had returned , and the gesture was no longer lost on him. His walls were blown over completely by the force of her words; he could not dismiss what he heard and how he felt.

Nyla loved him. She loved him enough to return and bear the full brunt of his ire, and keep loving him. If anyone deserved his bravery, it was her.

Years ago, he stood over Rinna and abandoned her, spat on her with a scowl. She was dead, and he still could not believe he was capable of such cruelty. I'm sorry I abandoned you, Rinna. And he felt his own forgiveness coming to light.

Zevran was standing mere inches from his Warden, and she was crying; this was unacceptable.

"Te amo, Nyla." He spoke softly. He said it, and it wasn't as hard as he imagined it would be. It felt right, he felt liberated, and he wanted to say it again.

Her breath caught in her throat, stunned to silence. Why did I ever doubt you, my love?

"¿Te puedo tocar?" May I touch you? His eyes were soft, his cheeks were wet.

Zevran closed the short distance between them. Her eyes followed his, and he saw longing and pain within them. She nodded briefly, he embraced her, and Nyla wept with the relief of his touch.

He swayed with her gently, holding her as if she were a precious and fragile thing. It was a sweet relief, having her back in his arms, and when her arms wrapped around him, it felt like home.

"Te amo, Nyla." He whispered, his lips softly meeting hers for a few sweet moments. "I am yours."