Title: A Child Unexpected (Part 12 of 14)
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: ~4100 this chapter (~47400 so far)
Rating: T
In this bit: More discussions at Weisshaupt, and an encounter between our lovely Warden and favorite Assassin.
Spoilers: Through end game. References to a character from "The Calling", and hints at "Dragon Age: Awakening" (though no real plot spoilers for either).
Author's Note: I'm heading out on holiday tomorrow folks, but I really wanted to get this out to you all (since you are too awesome for words). As such, this chapter has not been through my beta. I am CERTAIN that pennydreadful would have gladly turned it around quickly, but on my end it was either post it tonight without a beta, or don't post it for another 8+ days. I chose the former. Here's hoping its not too awful.
Chapter 10
Weisshaupt: Twenty-four Months after the Fall of the Archdemon
Either any manipulative skills Kallian once possessed had gone to rot in Seheron, or the Weisshaupt Wardens had some natural immunity. Regardless, it added up to Kallian being unable to sweet-talk her way into a reprieve from the questioning, even just the once. Despite her lengthy (and voluntary) bit of girl-talk with Fiona over lunch.
Even more agitating was the fact that her inquisitorial squad had left her alone and twiddling her thumbs for what felt like hours. Dinner time had come and gone, and she wanted nothing more than to bail on the remainder of the days talks, and scarf down whatever passed for food in the mess tonight, so loud was the rumbling in her stomach.
But they would just have come and gathered her, and she hated that. Hated being herded around like some farm animal that was misbehaving. So she waited, amusing herself by mentally preparing a great and swashbuckling take of her battle against 'Flemeth the High Dragon and Wilder Witch of Ill Repute!', since they hadn't seemed too happy with her most recent account of: 'I stuck a sword in her, she died. The end.'
When they did return, it was with more tension in their shoulders than she had every seen. Hensley, who she normally equated to having the emotional range of a push-broom looked perturbed. Whereas Enrich looked somewhat resigned, and a tad annoyed. And Fiona was giving her the most pitying look she'd ever seen on the mage.
Kallian found anger building up inside her, had Fiona used something that she had said against her? Had she said anything that could be used against her? Kallian couldn't think of anything, but perhaps all the questions of: 'So he likes...dolls?' and 'A hayloft! What do you mean he slept in a hayloft? !' had really been covers for... Kallian had absolutely no idea.
But all of her worry was forgotten in the tidal wave of words that fell out of Enrich's mouth over the next ten minutes. Very little had been as unexpected in her life save the discovery that she was going to have Adaia. Really. Nothing.
"Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. You want me – me – to take over the Ferelden Grey Warden base in Amaranthine? Did all of you somehow miss the part were I emigrated to Seheron without leave for the past two years?"
A severely quirked eyebrow was her immediate response. "You should be rather well rested then." The man was mocking her. Bastard. "And do not fear, we do intend to provide you with mounts for the travel, should make the trip almost pleasurable, and quite a bit shorter than it otherwise would have been. I'd say it'd be quite a step up from what you are use to."
Horses? He thought that horses would make things easier. Clearly, he'd never seen her get within a meter of one. She clamped down on her irritation so as to avoid shouting. "There must be someone more suitable to the task..."
"I'm having a hard time thinking of any who would be better suited to defend Ferelden than the Hero of Ferelden. It seems like the job description matches your exemplary qualifications most perfectly."
There was a sputtering sound, she could only surmise that it came from her. "But I, I've barely lifted a sword in all this time!" Oh, she was really grasping at straws now. She'd been working with blades since she was barely mobile, thanks to her mother. She'd never mentioned that to them, however.
"Really? My sources say that you have been apprenticing with one of the premier smiths in Seheron. And doing a reasonable enough job at that. Not too mention, I've heard word that you've been pestering our own smith here."
"Damned spies." She scoffed, her arms crossing over her chest. "Making swords is highly different then wielding them."
"If that is truly your only concern, then you will feel most relieved to learn that the trip to Amaranthine will take near on three months. There should be plenty of time to hone any rusty skills between now and your arrival."
It was her turn to raise dubious eyebrows. "Three months? How can you even be certain that the Keep will hold until my arrival, if it is in as dire straits as you claim."
"While the Warden contingent that has been presiding at the Keep these past two years has taken quite a blow, there are several newly minted Wardens in residence. Though they are not seasoned, such as yourself, the reports we have received have been relatively...complimentary."
"And why, precisely, can't one of them take over where the Orlesian left off?" Kallian was thoroughly baffled as to why they seemed to think that she alone would be the key to Amaranthine's defense.
The Warden Commander sighed heavily, and lifted his scarred four-fingered hand to rub at his temple. "The running of the Keep is a delicate matter. It is not merely the darkspawn that must be dealt with, although that will be your primary task, but the Arling of Amaranthine is also in need of a new ruler. The people will not accept just anyone in that position. They barely accepted the Orlesian Commander, and that was only through much cajoling on the part of his men; and now with his death, the city is quickly degenerating once more. The new Wardens are...less than appropriate options, politically speaking."
She blinked at them. He couldn't possibly be saying what she thought he was saying... "Are you saying that I will be the Arlessa, as well as the Commander?"
"That was the general plan, yes."
"But- I'm – How can-" She was aware that she was gaping like a fish, but she didn't much care. "But I'm an elf!"
"Well, that certainly explains the short stature and your ears. If that is your only concern, then you need not worry. You are a Warden, first and foremost. And, to the people of Ferelden, you are also a hero. They will accept you as their Arlessa."
Kallian's mind was reeling. It seemed most ridiculous, the idea of her being placed in charge of an entire city. But it also gave her a giddy little thrill. One that she wouldn't admit to anyone. Save for Shianni, of course.
"Do you have any other objections?" In point of fact, Kallian did have one large objection. An objection that came in the form of delightful hugs, and an eager personality (albeit one a bit too fond of mud).
"And what of," she swallowed, uncertain that she even wanted to voice the most obvious problem for fear it would give them further cause to wonder, "what of my daughter?"
"Your daughter has a father, does she not? She should be well in his company. Obviously, we advise against bringing her with you to the Keep. It is not a very safe compound at the present time for one so young. But, ultimately, the decision is yours as to what is to be done with her."
She sucked in a shuddering breath, and turned wary eyes to the lone woman sitting on the dais before her. The woman gave a sad smile in return, and Tabris thought she might speak, but it was Hensley that spoke. "This is why Warden's are strongly advised against bearing children, Tabris. It is a dire life we lead, you know this as well as the rest of us." He snuck a glance at Fiona, and Kallian thought that there was something she was missing there. But she had more important things to worry about at the moment.
"If I do this. If I take over for your damned Orlesian failure, will I have your assurance that we're done? That you will find someone else to run the Keep – and the city? I'll travel the deep roads when its my time, but until then, I want to know that my life is my own. I've spilt enough blood." Her words sounded confidant, but inside she was one big bundle of unrealized energy.
There was a moment's hesitation between the Wardens in front of her, but it passed quickly. "If that is what you wish. Then yes. Provided the darkspawn threat has been diminished, and the city is in working order. I'm certain that something could be arranged at that point. If I were you, I'd be more concerned about the immediate issue of survival, Commander Caron was not a mere recruit."
"You leave that part up to me, I assure you, I have lived through worse."
The smile on Enrich's face was foreign in its sincerity. "Indeed. Does this mean that you are excepting this station?"
"No." The color drained from Enrich's face, and Kallian paused just long enough to watch the red of anger and irritation start to claw up his neck. It gave her no small amount of pleasure. "But I am not turning it down either. I need time to dis... to think on this, so that I can make an informed decision. I believe that a day should suffice."
"You shall have the morning only. We have precious little time to waste in this matter, and if you can not be compelled to return to your duties, we will have to find someone suitable who will."
Somehow Kallian highly doubted that they had any other options, or they never would have asked her in the first place. "Of course."
Outwardly, Kallian thought that she was doing a damn fine job of seeming stoic, and cool-headed (now that the shock had warn off and she wasn't flailing about verbally anymore), but her internal systems were in flux. She wasn't certain if she wanted to run, shine, vomit, or some odd combination of all three.
As they dismissed her, she found she no longer had any appetite, the thought of food made her empty stomach churn uncomfortable. But the urge to seek out Zevran had replaced the want for food. It was an urge too strong to resist.
She had decided that afternoon that she needed to talk to him, tell him how she felt, if only for the sake of easing her slowly ebbing sanity when she was around him. She'd done him so many injustices by not being entirely honest in the past, and just because she had no real hope that he would return her feelings was no reason to continue keeping secrets from him. He had earned that from her at least.
But now – now she couldn't just have some awkward one-sided confession with him; instead she needed to have what was certain to be a lengthy discussion regarding what the Wardens had planned. What they had requested. And that thought was even more terrifying.
It was all Enrich's fault. Bastard.
~~~\/~~~
Zevran never slept deeply. His life hadn't ever allowed for that sort of luxury, and with Adaia quietly snoring only steps away, he felt constantly on edge. He knew all too well the kind of complacency that could overtake someone at night, and when it was only him that he had to worry on, he didn't much care. He was secure enough in his abilities. But Adaia...well she added a whole other dimension to the word 'vigilance' and he was not going to allow her to come to harm. No matter how secure the walls may appear.
There was also the matter of his memories playing havoc on his mind. He'd never taken a contract to kill a child. It had been an arbitrary line drawn in the sand, but his masters knew better than to cross it, and so he'd rarely been offered such a job. He had, however, been the last sight many a person had seen, screams silenced in their throat, while their children slept soundly and unaware in the other room.
In-home assassinations took a particular skill set. One needed to be highly adept at stealth, and able to make a clean and quiet kill. One that wouldn't be discovered until the sun was high in the sky the following morning. He'd been particularly sought after for those, and had considered it a matter of pride that he could accomplish his tasks so swiftly and silently.
Never once had he thought about who was most likely to find those bodies. Cold and stiff to the touch. Speckles of blood on their lips, or cheek. The lingering scent of poison mixed with the metallic scent of their blood suffusing the room. He'd never considered what it would do to a child to find their mother, or their father, in such a state.
Those kills had given him no more pause than any other (which was to say, very little). Until now.
Now, when he closed his eyes, he was as likely to dream of whorehouse romps, or Kallian spread beneath a tree with a coy smile upon her lips, as he was to envision Adaia desperately trying to wake an hours dead corpse. Her large honey eyes, so like his own, wet with tears.
He hadn't had trouble sleeping like this since that visit to the Fade oh-so-many years ago. Kallian had helped him put those demons to rest, even if she hadn't known it – but now he had found all new ones.
He'd take dreams of the rack any day over these.
The moon had already begun to dip low in the sky, dimming the light that fed into the room from the small window, when Kallian crept through the door and began to shuck off her daily wear. Zevran remained where he was, lying on his back amongst the rough cotton sheets, covers drawn down to his waist. He'd taken to sleeping with smallclothes on, on account of Adaia (he'd learned during their time at sea that she occasionally woke during the night, and would snuggle into the nearest adult occupied bed), but he saw no reason to don a shirt.
It was a pleasant torture, feeling the weight of Kallian's body so near his own while she slept. When she was near, the nightmares were lessened, so it was worth the battle of wills he played against himself Still, he'd caught himself, on several occasions, reaching for her – wanting to tug her body beneath his and feel her hot breath on his lips, until she could do nothing but scream to the heavens. But he'd refrained.
When it happened – and he knew now that it was a matter of when, not if, he was not so well-controlled as to keep his distance indefinitely – he wanted to know that it was entirely her choice, not the result of him being...well, him.
Although it did make him wish he hadn't so cleanly severed ties with Treval. He was an enoyable, if overly clingy, method of stress relief.
And aside from the allusions she had made that very first night, Kallian had almost pointedly avoided the posibility ever since. Dodging his flirtations with the kind of expertise that would make the Crows proud.
Which is probably why, when she pulled the covers down from him this time, he was not quite expecting her to crawl along the length of his body. Was not expecting her hair – released from the confines of the ever-present bun she kept it in, to draw slowly along the exposed skin navel to neck as she settled herself across him. Held up from his body by two lithely-muscled arms, with a strategic positioning of her knees on either side of his hips.
Her eyes, icy gems that shone down on him with determination, would have been enough to set his blood to boiling even if her delightfully-warm skin was not brushing against parts of him with each inhale and exhale of her lungs. He was finding it suddenly very hard to focus on anything but those minute interactions.
"Zevran."
"Warden."
"I've been thinking."
"And do these thoughts require you being in such close proximity to my person. Not that I mind, but I find myself quite curious, and interested in pressing the boundaries..." He pointedly glanced down along her torso, before dragging his eyes back up to hers. It took every ounce of his self-restraint to avoid grasping her hips and pressing his mouth to hers. Especially when she cocked her head the way that she was now, lower lip being oh-so-gently nibbled upon. He had no idea what had set her off, and perhaps that should be discussed. But he had no will to refuse. Not tonight. Not when it had been far too many hours since he had seen her last, and the bitter taste of nightmarish visions on his tongue was still fresh.
She leaned close, the heat or her breath coating his lips. "You know what? Nevermind. Thinking is overrated."
When the taste of her exploded against his mouth a moment later, he found he couldn't argue. His hands snaked up under her tunic, discovering with no small amount of joy that it was the only article she had left on prior to attacking him in the middle of the night.
His fingers skimmed her breasts, and she growled at him, long and low, and delicious. The sound had shot right through him, arousing him further. But this was not a night for such demonstrations. "Ahh ahh ahh, my dear Grey Warden. While I would like nothing more than to hear you scream my name. I'm afraid that we have...overly sensitive ears nearby. I've only just gotten her to sleep."
She nodded, and spared a glance towards Adaia's alcove, before dipping down for another kiss, this one softer, less urgent. It made something deep within him coil and pulse. The sensation was akin to a slow asphyxiation (something he had a small amount of experience in): dangerous and painful, but not entirely unpleasant.
He flipped her beneath him, and trailed a wet line from her mouth to her neck, sucking on the pulse-point he found there. The look in her eyes when he pulled away fired up apart of him he had long since relegated to the most protected portions of his mind, and he found himself having to fight back the urge to quote awful poetry, or spout off ill-advised romantic notions.
Instead he kissed her again, and let his body do the talking for him in a way that he could only hope she would understand; nightmares all but forgotten.
~~~\/~~~
No one that met her, would ever claim that Kallian was a coward. And yet, here she was, sneaking out like a thief in the night – barely after dawn – from the warm cocoon of Zevran's arms. It had been excruciating, leaving his side. The mingled sound of his breath, and Adaia's soft snuffles from the little alcove on the other side of the room, did their best to lull her back to sleep. But she needed time to think. To evaluate.
To make certain that she hadn't just royally screwed everything up.
It hadn't been what she planned. No, not in the slightest. She had meant to approach him, talk with him. Maybe – just maybe – pry out his feelings for her. Determine where it was they stood with each other.
But instead, she'd let her emotions (damnable things) get the better of her, and she'd opted to go the less wordy route.
If she had learned nothing else in Seheron, it was that acting was always preferable to telling.
She'd been agitated the entire walk to the room, practically stomped her way up the several flights of stairs, mentally cataloging all the ways that she would like to curse Enrich for putting her in this position (she'd even wondered if Wynne might be game for such an activity). For certain, he knew her well enough by now to know that she couldn't just blithely turn down Ferelden when it was in need.
Otherwise, what would the point of saving it at all in the first place have been?
But by the time she'd gotten to the heavy door of her chamber, most of the fight had burned out of her, and all she wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep for a week.
Of course, Zevran wasn't wearing a shirt to bed, and something about how the moonlight was filtering in and creating jagged lights and shadows across his chest had made her snap, in a completely unexpected way.
In a completely delectable and earthshaking way.
Sadly, morning had come along, like it was want to do, and with it a whole slew of doubts. Could she handle this? Could they? Adaia adored Zevran. She'd be heartbroken if he left... and Kallian, Kallian didn't wish to lose him either.
Sex complicated things. She'd figured that out long ago (Adaia was proof enough). And wouldn't it be better to have him in their lives as a platonic companion, and not have to worry about his interest in her waning, and him wandering off seeking entertainment elsewhere? She knew what his predilections were. Accepted them, even. For the most part. But she also knew that she wasn't built that way. That she couldn't handle him leaving her bed for another's, or coming to her fresh from someone else's.
She'd never wanted to tie him down. He had spent so long bound by people, that she hadn't freedom for him more than anything else. Was asking him to commit to something with her any different.
And sas it worth the risk? To both her heart, and to Adaia?
Her head was spinning, and the walk that she had thought would help clear her thoughts had done exactly the opposite. So she'd found herself back in the meeting room, staring at the tapestries that hung on the walls. Letting her mind wander into the golden threads that wove together to depict a dragon's breath glancing off from a Warden's shield.
Would a tapestry of her battle against the Archdemon grace this place eventually? The thought gave her a surprising rise of pleasure. She did her best to tamp down on it, however. She could practically hear Sten admonishing her in her head: "What good is art that tells tales of events long passed? It is enough that they happened in the first place."
The air was thick in her throat. Oh, how she needed Sten now. Her rock. He'd have absolutely nothing positive to say about her indecisive actions. But the words that he would chose to say would inevitably have been exactly the ones she needed to hear.
Why did she ever leave Seheron? Her life would be so much easier if she had just told the Wardens to bugger off.
~~~\/~~~
She remained in the meeting room until well after breakfast had come and gone. Her stomach had long since given up the fight for food, since it had determined that she wasn't going to move from her spot on the floor.
She'd done her best to try and meditate, tried to find that center that she had heard spoken of, but it was a useless task. She would never be able to slow down her racing thoughts long enough for it to serve any meaningful purpose.
At the very least, it allowed her the benefit of being both fully awake and aware (an unusual combination for her in the morning) when Enrich, Hensley, and Fiona walked through the door. Their eyes overly large and round in their heads, and jaws slightly slacked with surprise. Really, was it so unusual for her to come here unbidden? It took Kallian less than five seconds to determine that yes, yes it was.
Of course, it was Enrich who recovered the use of his voice first. Typical.
"Tabris – this is...unexpected. I seem to recall you demanding time so that you could 'deliberate in peace and quiet' regarding your decision."
"I did."
"I take it that your presence here means that you have?"
This was it. Now or never. She sucked in a breath, the cool morning air that was circulating around the room felt good in her lungs. She hoped that Zevran would forgive her. "I have, but there are some conditions that I would like met first."
For the first time since she arrived in Weisshaupt, as she began to outline her requests, she felt like she was standing on even ground. It was a decidedly nice feeling.
~TBC
