Chapter 15
DA ORIGINS
It came as no surprise to Zevran when Howl began to avoid him after their little escapade. Every time the little mage chanced to sneak a glance at him, Zevran gave him a knowing smile. A blush came over the younger elf's cheeks as he hastily turned away and promptly hid behind his other companions. It was only on their way back from a visit to the Circle of Magi he began to notice Howl's eyes trailing not to him, but to Alistair.
A sad longing lingered in Howl's gaze, quickly switching to a bright smile when his fellow Grey Warden turned to talk to him. Alistair appeared to be the only person who could be called an actual "friend" compared to the others. Sten was nothing more than a guardian, a protector of sorts towards the small mage. Shigure was….well, he was a dog. Mabari were inclined to love their owners no matter what.
Wynne as well gave off a protective air when around the mage. Often Howl would talk to her or listen as she told him a story about the Grey Wardens. On the other hand Wynne acted grandmotherly towards Alistair and Oghren as well. So perhaps it was the whims of an old woman rather than a natural inclination to care for others.
"My presence does not please you, Owl?" Zevran asked finally. They had finally made their way, much to his annoyance, to the Dalish. Howl had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since their arrival. He was polite towards the Keeper and asked a few questions, but then wandered off to gaze at the Halla. They had been on the road for a couple of days with bad weather and had been welcomed to rest before setting out to search for Wither Fang. Howl turned his head at the comment, but just shrugged as he turned his attention back to the white deer.
"No, Zev, it's not you. Just…other things." Howl said quietly as one of the Halla stopped grazing to peer at them. A fawn was eagerly feeding from under it as the great beast sauntered up to them. Howl bent down and pulled up long grass outside of the pen, holding it out to lure the Halla closer.
"What sorts of other things? The others are not here, and we appear to be in the company of no one but the Halla. Come, tell me my dear Warden. It will ease your mind." Zevran said gently. Howl looked haggard with bags under his eyes as he leaned tiredly on the railing. He had propped his staff up against the tree, but didn't seem to care when it fell over.
"Yesterday, I woke up and it suddenly occurred to me I have no idea what to do after we kill the Archdemon. Then I realized if I did happen to survive, I would probably be forced to go back to the Circle." Howl answered, his voice wavering as he said it. Zevran glanced sharply at Howl who didn't meet his gaze. Instead pulling his hand in forcing the Halla to come closer to eat the succulent grass.
"Why ever would they send you back? After killing such a beast, I'm sure whoever is ruling at the time will let you have whatever you want. Surely you have some idea of what you want in the future?" Zevran asked, curious now. It had never occurred to him they would survive the Blight, but he supposed out their group a few had to live to tell the tale. Or not. They could always be killed by Darkspawn and never meet their foe to begin with. Howl sighed, allowing the Halla to eat the grass as he reached out to gently pet it on the head.
"The only thing I want is you." Howl said, this time raising his eyes to lock gazes with Zevran. For a moment the assassin was simply surprised then felt anger rise quick and hot in his chest. He felt a sneer develop as he shot a glare at the mage.
"Oh? I suppose I could stay in the basement as you and Alistair celebrate your victory." Zevran snarled, shocked at the rise of jealousy in himself. It hadn't even occurred to him he felt possessive of Howl until that moment. Howl stared at him, open mouthed as he wiped his hand on his robes. The Halla leaned its head over the fence, hoping for more grass.
"I...that is….it's none of your fucking business!" Howl shouted back, causing a few heads to turn. Thankfully, only the Halla appeared to be listening in on the conversation but now Zevran was pissed. Narrowing his eyes he stepped closer to the mage as his voice descended to a low rumble as he glared down at the shorter elf.
"It is if I'm the thing you want most, Howl. I've seen the way you look at Alistair. I was raised by whores, I know an unrequited love when I see it." Zevran said, his tone biting. Howl opened his mouth to reply, but then thought better of it and closed it. Noticing the Halla, he yanked up another fistful of grass and held it out in offering to the eager animal.
"I know." Howl said his voice quiet. Zevran crossed his arms, wanting nothing more than to force the mage to look at him. Howl took a shuddering breath before raising his eyes to focus on the assassin.
"I know, Zev. I'm sorry it's just…Alistair was the first person who didn't care I was a mage and an elf. We joked about me being a mage and I just thought…well, you know how he is." Howl said with wave of his hand. Zevran held his tongue to keep back the biting insult in his throat. He did know what he had thought, and had noticed it beforehand. To be treated as an equal rather than an inferior did cause one to pause. Even to become attached to the one who had shown you a different way of things. The thought brought back the ghost of Rinna, lingering in his mind's eye for a moment. Her blood spreading in a slow puddle from a slit throat. Taking a shuddering breath, he focused on what was happening in front of him as he nodded in understanding.
"Well, Howl. If you wish to pursue your fellow Grey Warden, be my guest. I have no problem stepping aside for such things. You have my blessing for what it's worth, and I hope Alistair makes a good wife." Zevran said, taking on a neutral tone. He spun on his heel and before he could think as already walking away back towards the Dalish camp. He heard a small gasp behind him but didn't turn his head. The stinging in his eyes surprised him but he refused to give in even as he heard the pounding of feet behind him.
"Zevran! ZEVRAN! Gosh dammit, you stupid nug humper, would you wait a minute? Let me explain!" Howl yelled, reaching the assassin and latching onto his wrist. Without even looking Zevran spun, his leg catching the back of Howl's calf. With a yelp the mage fell backwards, but he kept a death grip on the stronger elf and brought him down with him. Zevran's lips were set in a grim line as he reached out with his free hand and grabbed Howl's slim wrist giving it a sharp twist. A yelp came from Howl and immediately he let go even as the sharp crack echoed in the clearing. Howl's face became white as scrambled back from the assassin, smacking his head on the fence as he rose to his feet. His wrist clutched to his test as he took in short breaths. Zevran felt his heart fall to the bottom of his boots as he rose up, his face just as pale.
"Saarebas." Came a deep voice. Howl and Zevran simultaneously turned their heads to see Sten standing among the trees watching them. Zevran couldn't read the expression on the Qunari's face but he could sense the rage in him. Sten's eyes fell to Howl clutching his broken wrist to chest, tears fogging up his glasses than to Zevran standing to the side staring at him with surprise.
Sten was already strolling across the clearing, his eyes smoldering as his hand closed around the hilt of his sword. Seeing what he meant to do Howl darted in front of the enraged Qunari stepping on the toes of his boots as he tried to stop him. Zevran half expected Sten to keep walking but the Qunari stopped his gaze fixating on the small elf.
"Move, Saarebas." Sten ordered, but the mage frantically shook his head. Glasses nearly falling off with the motion. Still shivering from the pain of his wrist, Howl reached up and laid his good hand on Sten's elbow, turning his head up to lock gazes with the Qunari. Zevran wondered if Howl was going to describe exactly how he wanted the Qunari to kill him.
"Sten, please. It was an accident." Howl said, his voice shaking. He didn't seem to be aware of balancing on Sten's boots. The scene would have been funny and downright cute if not for the circumstances. Sten's hand was still fisted around the hilt of his sword as his eyes flickered to look at Zevran. He returned the stare but was reluctant since he suddenly wanted to look down at his own boots.
Zevran couldn't believe he had just broken the small mage's wrist. It had been instinct, years of training honed to defend himself. Howl was giving the Qunari an imploring look that just begged to be answered. Finally, something gave between the two as Sten let go of his sword. Going down on one knee to look the mage in the eye. Even kneeling Sten was an inch taller than Howl who was forced to step back.
"Let me see, Saarebas." Sten said, holding his hand. Howl held out his broken wrist and it looked fragile in the large palm of the warrior. Despite himself Zevran stepped closer suddenly feeling an urge to comfort him. Catching the assassin's eye, Howl gave him a weak smile despite looking a bit green.
"It's fine, Zevran. I'm still breathing, aren't I?" Howl said with a nervous laugh. Without warning Sten twisted the wrist and an audible pop echoed in the clearing. Howl cried out in pain and automatically his hand clenched reflexively. Zevran stared in amazement and relief as Howl came to the slow realization his wrist was no longer broken. It had, as a matter of fact, been dislocated.
"Be careful of whom you insult, Saarebas. I can't always be here to protect you." Sten said his voice grim as he rose. He nodded to Zevran as he brushed past him back towards the Dalish camp. A few of the Dalish elves had concerned looks on their faces and were peering at the pair from the hilltop. Upon seeing the Qunari they hastily moved out of the way to allow him passage. Howl didn't even pretend he didn't see the inquisitive elves as he gave them his broadest grin, waving enthusiastically as if he were about to leave on a long voyage. Sharp glares were shot the young mage's way but eventually the crowd backed up. All except for Zatharian, who had crossed his arms and shook his head at the young mage. Howl just raised an eyebrow in reply, but turned his back to the Keeper in favor of speaking to Zevran.
"Well, at least I can sleep easy knowing how hard it is to kidnap you." Howl said. Zevran stared at him wondering where the earlier anger had gone. Hesitantly, Zevran reached out and lightly touched the bruised wrist. Howl winced, but allowed the assassin to raise the injured limb to his mouth and gently kiss the inside of his wrist. He heard the blue eye mage take a sharp breath as he breath tickled over the untouched skin.
"I am yours." Zevran said without a second thought. He froze, raising his eyes to meet Howl's. Instead of an astonished expression Howl was gazing at him his eyes soft as he a smile graced those sweet lips.
"As I am yours." Howl whispered, his eyes glittering. For the first time since Rinna, Zevran felt his heart beat a little faster at the thought of having someone at his side.
…
"He's going fast, Fenris. I'm not sure even Anders can help him." Said a light female voice above his head. Zevran furrowed his brow, struggling back to the surface of consciousness. He heard the low rumble of the dark elf but couldn't make out the words. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a low moan he could barely hear.
Zevran didn't recall much past Fenris carrying him, again, back to Kirkwall. Somewhere outside the city gates he memory became foggy. He had felt his body being shaken by but was too tired to respond. Now he heard the disembodied voices talking again over his head as small, warm fingers pressed against his wrist. Feeling for a pulse as another pair prodded his side.
"He has a fast heartbeat, but it isn't strong. Do you know how much he lost?" Asked the light, female voice. Zevran turned his head by slight degrees, trying to find the strength to open his eyes. The next moment he heard the deep rumble of Fenris's voice and his heart quickened.
"A lot. To much, I'm afraid. His wounds reopened when he was running away from Anders and Varric." Fenris answered, his voice strained. Zevran managed to crack his eyes open enough to see Fenris stood next to him. Or rather, whatever Zevran happened to be laid out on. It felt like a bed judging by the pillow he finally noticed was under his head.
"Oh, poor thing! Hang in there, Zevy! Once we find Anders we'll bully him into making you well again." Said the female voice, and the tattooed face of young female elf came into view. Zevran thought belatedly she was cute, her eyes wide and shinning with curiosity as she studied him. Seeing him focus on her she yelped, nearly jumping out of her skin. Fenris stared at her as if she had just gone mad. Merrill coughed, politely nodding to the prone figure on the bed beginning to stir.
"Your assassin is awake." Merrill announced. Fenris blinked at her in surprise, shifting his body to look down at the other elf. Zevran blinked slowly, trying to focus. He had thought Fenris was standing next to the bed but when he turned his head enough he caught sight of Fenris's hip. A hand rested on the side of his head, brushing back his hair. The sensation was pleasant as a calloused thumb gently brushed over his temple. Somewhere at the back of his mind he realized this wasn't normal for Fenris but he just gave out another low groan. His eyes sliding closed again as the darkness swept over his head.
"Don't call me Zevy." Zevran said before he passed out.
Fenris clenched his fist in the soft locks. He could almost see the other elf's life slipping away. A steady pulse of light fading away each time his heart beat. Getting to his feet he walked over to the wardrobe where he had laid down his gauntlets. Picking them up and sliding them on, locking each one into place with an audible click.
"I'm going to Hawke's to fetch Anders. Keep him alive until then." Fenris said to Merrill. He heard the girl squeak behind him in response, but quickly darted back to her fireplace. Lifting the tea kettle from its place so she could make her herbal tea.
"Fenris, it's not up to me. It's up to…the higher forces whether he survives or not." Merrill said, her voice shaking as she said it. She didn't want to be offensive by referring to the Maker or to any of the Dalish elf gods. Fenris fixed her with a green eyed glare which pinned her in place. Isabela had left half an hour ago to look for Anders.
"Isabela will find him, I'm sure. I…I've seen this before and…it helps for them to stay if they know someone, well, needs them here." Merrill explained, her voice shaking. The tea kettle wobbled dangerously back and forth in her trembling hand. She managed to get the majority of hot water into the small cup as she put the tea kettle back on its hook.
Fenris remained silent, lingering near the door as he shot another glance at Zevran. He had barely known him a day and yet the slim figure whose life hung on a thread called out to him. Zevran looked vulnerable laying there as if waiting for someone to cut him open. With a sigh he went back to his vigil on the bed. Reaching out to brush a finger against Zevran's cheek. It felt cold and clammy to the touch, as if he was already dead.
"For his sake, I will stay."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I feel like kind of an idiot because literally the story went in a full circle. Yet I don't have the heart to go and delete the stuff I just typed. I do apologize, but at the same time I'm secretly glad because Fenris gets drawn closer to Zevran.