Zevran woke up, hearing someone moving around, then identified the sounds as Teagan rising and dressing. He stayed as he was, eyes politely closed, until the man had left the room, and only then opened his eyes and looked around.
Fenris was still soundly asleep, all rolled up in his bedding like a caterpillar in a cocoon, just his hair visible at one end of the roll from where Zevran was lying. The sight made him smile, then edge closer to nuzzle into the soft white hair and kiss the back of Fenris' neck. Fenris made a sleepy sound as the touch woke him, then chuckled softly. He stretched his head out of his bedding, turning enough to look over his shoulder at Zevran. "Now?"
Zevran considered, then sighed and shook his head. "No," he said regretfully, but kissed Fenris again, grinning at the face the other elf made afterwards. "You taste no better," he reminded him.
Fenris snorted, then looked around. "It's cold," he observed, which considering there was frost visible on the inside of the steeply pitched roof was rather stating the obvious, in Zevran's opinion.
"Warmer than if we'd had to camp out," Zevran said. "Lie in a little while longer if you wish; by the sound of it we won't be leaving today."
"The sound?" Fenris said, and then fell silent, listening, his face smoothing out as he heard what Zevran had already noticed; the sound of wind rushing over the snow-covered roof, and the faint hiss of blowing snow, with occasional soft thumps as windblown clots of it hit the building. "I'm not looking forward to going out in that to check on the horses," he said, and withdrew into his bedding like a turtle into its shell, as Zevran laughed and rolled out of his own.
The air was, as Fenris had pointed out, cold. Zevran hissed through his teeth, then dug quickly through his packs, drawing out an extra layer of clothing to pull on. Once he was changed – and, if anything, feeling even colder, the unworn cloth being just as cold as the air – he took out clothing for Fenris as well, setting it down near his bedroll before hurrying off downstairs in search of a fire to warm up by.
He heard voices while descending the stairs, and was unsurprised to find Teagan and Kaitlyn talking together in the kitchen. What did surprise him was to find Teagan with his sleeves rolled up and his forearms dusty with flour as he kneaded dough, a sight that made Zevran raise his eyebrows.
Teagan glanced up at his entrance, and broke off what he was saying to Kaitlyn and looked amused as he caught sight of Zevran's expression. "Not a skill you imagined me having?" he asked, smiling.
"Never," Zevran said very solemnly. "I of course learned how to cook because for many years it was either cook it for myself, or pay to have someone cook for me, and I couldn't always afford to eat out. I cannot imagine why you would need to learn so lowly a skill as kneading bread," he said, and took a seat across the table from where Teagan stood, watching with interest as the man stretched out part of the dough into a thin rectangle.
Teagan snorted softly. "It's a useful skill. Besides, I've always liked kitchens."
"So have I," Zevran said. "They tend to be filled with good food, sometimes generous cooks, and often a pretty maid or two as well," he said, and winked at Kaitlyn, who was standing near the fire cooking sausages in a long-handled spider pan.
She laughed and gave him a tolerant look. "If you know something about cooking, then why don't you peel and chop some onions and potatoes for me," she told him. "Instead of leaving all the work to Teagan and I."
"Of course," he said, and got back to his feet. The onions he spotted right away, hanging in a net bag in a corner. "Potatoes?" he asked after getting out several.
"There's a root cellar under that trapdoor," she said, nodded toward the other end of the room. "They're down there."
The trapdoor, when lifted, revealed wooden steps leading down into a dugout cellar beneath the house, low-ceilinged enough that even he had to duck. Two sides were filled with shelves, with all sorts of wax-sealed crocks and bottles of things, while the fourth had a number of barrels and crates. He quickly found the potatoes, and brought up a double handful of them up, dumping them on the table beside the onions, then seeking out a knife to use on them.
It only took a little of his attention to scrape and chop the potatoes; he found himself mostly watching Teagan's hands as the man shaped pieces of dough into loaves, setting them aside on a board sprinkled with coarse-ground meal to rise. Strong and capable hands, one of the kinds he liked best. He glanced up to find Teagan giving him an amused look, and smiled, and shrugged. They'd danced around each other enough over the years at Fereldan social events for Teagan to know that Zevran found him attractive, for Zevran to know that he wasn't Teagan's type, and for them both to enjoy a certain level of mild flirting on Zevran's part and occasional teasing on Teagan's in their friendship anyway. A friendship that went further than just the overlap of their political leanings, and their shared loyalty to King Alistair; Teagan was one of a handful of nobles that Zevran could use the term friend of and know it was not just meant, but reciprocated.
He wasn't terribly surprised to look up again a potato or two later and find Teagan's head turned to look at Kaitlyn, a soft smile curling the man's lips. Zevran looked that way as well, and mentally agreed that the view was quite fine. She was wearing what must be some of her work clothes; safely inflammable and close-fitting leggings of well-worn brown leather and a thigh-length sleeveless vest of the same, over a short-sleeved shirt of undyed cloth, her ash blond hair caught back in a short braid. Her shoulders were deliciously broad, her arms impressively muscled, and all that leather clinging to womanly curves was certainly nothing Zevran objected to. Nor, judging by the appreciative look on Teagan's face, did the nobleman. Teagan turned his attention back to the last loaf of bread he was shaping. When he glanced Zevran's way again a moment later, Zevran grinned at him, eyebrows raising slightly, and was delighted when Teagan actually blushed.
The last loaf shaped, Teagan carried the board over and placed it on a stool near the fire, close enough to get the benefit of the warmer air in its rising, but not so close as to start it baking. That done, he cleaned up from shaping the loaves while Zevran peeled and diced onions. By the time he had that done, Kaitlyn was transferring the sausages to a platter near the fire to keep them warm. The chopped potatoes and onions went into the pan next, to fry in the grease from the sausages, after which Kaitlyn filled a kettle with water, and hung it on a hook over the fire.
"Will Fenris be joining us for breakfast?" she asked as she began to take down mugs to measure tea leaves into.
"He should be," Zevran said. "I'll go see if he's made it out of his bedroll yet. Even having lived in Kirkwall for much of the last decade hasn't prepared him for the sort of cold we get here; he was reluctant to leave its warmth."
He caught an amused glance from Teagan as he left, and didn't need any words to decipher the reasons behind it. First, that he was now Fereldan enough after his years here to include himself in that 'we' even after having spent most of his life in much warmer Antiva. And second, that it gave him at least a brief period of privacy with the other elf.
Fenris was up, and shivering as he tried to sort out the piled clothing into the right order of layers to change into. Zevran tsk'ed, and walked over to help him. "The fine knit underwear and stockings first," he said, quickly sorting things out. "Then the cloth shirt, the leather leggings, and a heavy sweater. That should be enough, unless we go outside."
Fenris glanced up from pulling off what clothing he'd slept in. "We should check on the horses," he pointed out.
"Breakfast first. Then horses." Fenris nodded agreement, and began dressing, Zevran helping by handing him things in order. "Come, there is a nice warm fire downstairs, Kaitlyn is making hot tea, and breakfast will be ready soon," he said once Fenris was done.
Fenris scowled. "You speak to me like a parent promising a child a treat."
Zevran shook his head. "No, I speak like one who also had to become used to Fereldan winters not all that many years ago. The cold will be very hard on you at first; it will wear you down and tire you out more than it does myself or Teagan. You will sicken more easily from the cold than we will, too. Which I do not want."
Fenris' scowl eased somewhat. "Now you sound like a parent worried over a delicate child."
Zevran laughed, then reached up to touch his hand lightly to the side of the taller elf's face. "No, I speak as one who cares about you very much," he said softly.
Fenris' expression melted to something softer, more open, and then he leaned down, the pair exchanging a kiss. Their arms moved to wrap around each other, hands beginning to roam. Until Fenris slid his hands up under Zevran's own layers of clothing, and the assassin jumped, letting out a thoroughly undignified yelp. "Your hands are like ice!"
"Your skin is so warm," Fenris said approvingly, nuzzling against Zevran's neck.
"Yes, well, so will yours be if we go downstairs. Breakfast should be ready by now."
Fenris sighed, but straightened, and the two headed downstairs together where, indeed, breakfast was just being served, a helping of sausages, potatoes and onions on each plate, with steaming mugs of strong hot tea. There was a crock on crystallized honey on the table; Fenris, who normally took his tea black, added a large dollop of it to his mug, stirring it in well before sipping. Zevran silently approved; he'd found during his first winter here that the cold made him hungry, and that he'd needed to eat extra.
"Fenris would like to go check on the horses once we've finished eating; so would I," Zevran remarked as they began digging into their food.
Kaitlyn nodded. "Of course. I'm sure they'll need feeding, watering..."
"Mucking out," Teagan supplied, grinning.
"That too," Kaitlyn agreed, then frowned slightly. "I don't mind putting all of you and your horses up until the storm blows over and you can continue your journey, but you'll have to look after your horses yourselves. Unless one of them needs shoeing; that I can do. But I'm not a groom or stable-hand."
Fenris nodded, his expression serious. "You are our host, not our servant," he said. "I do not wish to be an inconvenience to you."
"Nor I," Bann Teagan said, and Zevran, his mouth full of potatoes at the moment, nodded agreement as well.
"Good," she said, and then laughed. "This seems so strange, me telling a pair of nobles to muck out their own damn horses."
Zevran swallowed and then smiled. "A trio of nobles. Fenris is a lord where he comes from."
That just made her laugh again, before rising to carry her empty plate and mug over to set on the counter near the wash basin. By the time she'd shaved some soap into the basin and added water – hot from the kettle first, and then just enough cold to make its temperature tolerable – the rest of them had finished eating as well.
"Allow me, please, since you three cooked," Fenris said, gesturing to the basin. Kaitlyn nodded and happily left the washing up to him. Zevran found a cloth, and dried the dishes, while Teagan and Kaitlyn checked on the rising bread, and the temperature of the bread oven set in the side of the fireplace, before placing the one in the other. That taken care of, they all trooped off upstairs, Kaitlyn to check on her uncle and bring him his breakfast, the three men in search of their coats.
The horses were fine, all of them standing quietly, though they looked around with interest to see who had entered. The packed earth floor showed evidence already of their stay, which the three men spent some time in cleaning up, after which they fed and watered them. Thankfully Kaitlyn had been able to come up with enough varied containers of large enough size for the horses to all have a bucket, trough, or other receptacle of water nearby. Filling them emptied out the water barrel, which they then had to laboriously refill with bucket after bucket of water hauled from a well outside. Hard work, and cold, with the blowing snow.
"I'll go care for the mules," Zevran volunteered, seeing that Fenris was busy grooming his stallion, while Teagan and Kaitlyn were checking the horses' feet to make sure that none of them was losing a shoe, or in need of any other care.
The mules needed to be shovelled out as well, of course, and watered, and fed. He had finished, and was leaning against one wall of the shed, scratching the jaw of one while thinking about the weather and worrying over how much worse it would be once they got higher into the mountains, when the door opened and Fenris stepped inside. Zevran smiled warmly at him. "How is Ari?" he asked.
"Enjoying the break from travel," Fenris said, and slipped around the walls to where Zevran was.
Zevran grinned, and allowed Fenris to pull him into an embrace, the two kissing. Fenris' hands immediately set to work unfastening Zevran's coat, then slipped up under his clothing, caressing against his skin. "Mmm, your hands are nicely warmed now," he observed, then gasped as one of Fenris' hands slid higher yet, pinching a nipple, the other sliding around to the small of his back and pressing him closer.
"Breakfast and all that hard work warmed me up," Fenris said, and lower his head further to mouth along Zevran's jawline, and down his neck, one hand slipped back out from under Zevran's clothing to rise up and caress the side of his face, the edge of his ear.
Zevran sighed in pleasure, lifting his own hands to comb through Fenris' hair. He paused after a moment, tightening his grip enough to draw Fenris' head back. "Your hair is growing out."
Fenris shrugged. "I thought I might try it longer. Or at least get it properly cut, instead of hacking it off with a knife."
Zevran hmmm'd thoughtfully, and toyed with Fenris' hair briefly, drawing it back or down in different ways, imagining how it would look, longer. "I like the idea of you with longer hair," he said decisively, then looked curiously at Fenris. "Why the change?"
Fenris shrugged, then coloured slightly. "In Denerim, for Satinalia, you kept doing different things with your own hair; braids and things. I liked how it looked, and I..." His flush darkened. "I thought about how nice it might be, having you do things like that with my hair for me."
"Ahhh," Zevran said softly, and drew Fenris into another lengthy kiss, taking his time with it before finally speaking again. "I would enjoy that very much too, I think."
Fenris smiled, then leaned down for another kiss, a lengthy one, his hands finding their way under Zevran's clothing again, one returning to playing with Zevran's nipples while the other, after only a brief hesitation, slipped lower. Zevran, gasped after a moment. "Here?" he said, amused.
"Why not? One of our first times..." Fenris reminded him softly, then pushed gently on him, moving him further away from the mules, backed into a corner, before going down on one knee before him, lifting up his sweater and shirt enough to tug at his laces.
"Since you insist," Zevran said, and threaded his fingers back into Fenris' hair, gasping as Fenris, having shifted Zevran's clothing out of the way enough to free Zevran's length, closed his mouth around the tip of Zevran's erection. Zevran closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall as he focused on the exquisite feeling of Fenris' mouth on him, hot and wet and moving just so as the other elf licked and sucked and mouthed at him. He found himself smiling, remembering that time in the stable and how surprised – and delighted – he'd been when Fenris had spontaneously done the same thing he was doing now. It wasn't long until he had to bite back a cry as he came, Fenris sucking hard to urge the release of every last drop.
Fenris had a smile that could only be described as smug on his face when he rose again, fingers busy tucking Zevran back away. Zevran grinned, and craned upwards a little to nuzzle at Fenris' neck, pushing his hands away so he could do up his own laces. "Let me return the favour," he said, voice husky as he purposefully nudged at Fenris' groin while doing so. The warrior barely hesitated before switching places with him.
They were both in considerably better mood when they returned to the house together afterwards. The kitchen smelled deliciously of baking bread. Teagan and Kaitlyn were seated on opposite sides of the table, talking while they peeled and chopped vegetables, presumably to add to the pot of soup, whose level was considerably lowered by their dinner the night before.
"Anything we can help with?" Zevran asked helpfully.
Kaitlyn looked up and smiled. "Thanks, but I think the two of us have it," she said, Teagan nodding agreement.
"Then I suppose Fenris and I will go sort through our things and see if anything needs repair. Or sharpening. Or polish."
Teagan laughed softly. Kaitlyn smiled. "There's a brazier somewhere in the junk at the end of the room; if you can find it you're welcome to use it, just be careful not to set the place on fire. There's a vent to let the smoke out, too. Take some wood up with you."
Zevran nodded, and he and Fenris gathered up some kindling and a few of the smaller pieces of wood to carry upstairs with them. They kept their coats on while they searched for the brazier, eventually finding it in a corner, hidden behind a stack of musty old coats. It was an oval basin made of iron, with stubby legs slanting outwards, and a handle at each end.
The vent was in one of the gable ends of the roof, and Fenris had to boost Zevran up so he could pry it open and then poke between the slats of it with a stick to make sure that it was open to the outside, no ice or snow blocking it. He could feel only a slight draft of cold air coming in the vent when he was done; he guessed it had been put in the gable on the leeward side of the house, where winds were less likely to blow in through it.
"Where should we put the brazier? Under the vent?" Fenris asked.
"No, if we do that, most of the heat will go right out of it without warming the room first. Over toward the middle would be better."
Fenris nodded, and positioned the brazier. Zevran crouched down, building a careful pile of tinder, with the finest, most flammable stuff at the bottom. He took out a tinderbox and soon had a spark struck and the tinder lit, and carefully added bits and pieces of kindling to the brazier until there was a small fire burning in it. A single log of wood pretty much filled the brazier.
"We'll have to keep a close eye on that," Zevran said. He looked up to find that Fenris was busy re-arranging their pallets of bedding, placing them side-by side at one end of the room. His eyebrows rose. "Planning on further activity already?"
Fenris looked up, giving him a faintly amused look. "No. Not right now, anyway. I just thought it would be nice to sit together and talk."
"Ah. Like that talk we mostly skirted around the edges of back in Denerim?" Zevran asked quietly, rising to his feet.
"Yes," Fenris said, and sat down on the floor, his back against the wall, and patted the bedroll beside him.
Zevran smiled, feeling just a little uncertain, and walked over to sit down shoulder-to-shoulder with him. Fenris immediately took his hand in his, lacing their fingers together. And then just sat silently, looking at their clasped hands, his thumb rubbing lightly against the back of Zevran's.
Finally Fenris sighed softly, and relaxed, leaning a little more heavily against Zevran. "I want to talk, but I'm not entirely sure about what, or where to begin."
"About us, I am assuming."
"Yes. About us, and our relationship. Zevran... what are we going to do, come spring? I'll have to head back north to Starkhaven. I assume you have things you should be remaining here in Ferelden to do. I do not wish to be parted from you," he finished, his grip tightening on Zevran's hand, as he turned and gave the assassin an intense look.
"Nor I from you. And yet, as you point out, we will have to part, at least for a while. And not just once, but many times, over the years."
Fenris smiled slightly, and leaned closer. "Years?"
Zevran smiled warmly back. "Yes, years, unless I manage to do something so foolish as to drive you away. Or you die. Or I die. All of which I hope we will both endeavour not to do, especially the last two, at least not for many, many years yet."
Fenris laughed softly, and leaned over just enough further to brush a soft kiss across the spot where Zevran's tattoos curled over his cheekbone. "I will try," he promised.
"Good," said Zevran, and turned his head to brush a kiss against Fenris' lips. "I, too, will try."
They distracted themselves for a few minutes with exchanging kisses. Just gentle ones, without any real heat, just seeking and giving comfort. Finally Fenris straightened up again. "What will we do?"
"Truthfully, I suppose we will both take care of what things we must, and then whichever one of us is free to do so will visit the other, for as long as possible. That we will part many times, and write many letters, and reunite whenever we can do so. That we will arrange our lives, as much as we can, to make room for each other, so that we may spend as much time together as we may, whenever and wherever we can. It will not be easy."
"No, I suppose not," Fenris said, and then smiled again, a look of such warmth and affection it took Zevran's breath away for a moment. "You are worth it, to me."
Zevran squeezed his hand. "And you, to me," he agreed, then smiled. "I will have a room set aside for you at Blackmarsh. You may keep whatever you wish there, and decorate it however you like, so you will always have a place in Blackmarsh that is yours. Though I would hope that when you visit you will be spending most of your time in my room."
Fenris laughed. "I will do the same, at Brynhir," he said, and then fell silent for a little while, before darting a glance at Zevran. "I meant what I said before, back in Denerim. I do not mind if you sleep with others."
Zevran studied Fenris' face, then slowly nodded. "Nor do I mind if you do the same," he said, and grinned when Fenris frowned and started to protest. "Do not tell me you will never do any such thing. There are many reasons to sleep with someone, and love is just one of them. Though I think by far the best one. Anyway, if you find yourself wishing to do so, I do not want you to feel constrained. I want you to be happy, even when I am unable to be with you; I want you to feel free to find comfort with someone else, when I am not there to comfort you myself."
Fenris chewed on his bottom lip, looking thoughtful, then slowly nodded. "All right," he agreed. "Fair enough."
"Good," Zevran said. They fell silent again, content to just sit there together.
"I like your Bann Teagan," Fenris said after a while. "He's pleasant to travel with."
"He is a good man," Zevran agreed, then grinned and looked sideways at Fenris. "I can only wish he was mine. Sadly I am not his type, and can only yearn for his touch."
Fenris snorted, and gave Zevran a sideways look. "I got the impression he was rather taken with our hostess, actually."
Zevran nodded. "I do believe he is. She is a fine-figured woman, if you like them strong, and she seems quite capable. Both things that I know he finds attractive."
"And yet you are not his type?" Fenris asked, eyebrows raising.
"Oh, ho! Are you flattering me? You are flattering me," Zevran exclaimed, delighted, drawing a small grin from the other elf, then sighed. "Sadly it is strong and capable women he finds attractive. A result of early influences, I believe; among them his sister Rowan, who was the wife of Alistair's father. She was quite the warrior during the rebellion. And then the Couslands were much at court as well, and Eleanor Cousland was in those years a renowned beauty, and famous for her wit and political acumen. I am sure she too made a considerable impression on him. Hmmm... in fact, I wonder if perhaps he may have had a childhood crush on her, which would explain much... she was an archer during the rebellion, you see; she likely had good strong arms from that. And possibly even broad shoulders, though perhaps not as broad as our lovely blacksmith's."
Fenris frowned slightly. "How do you know all this?"
Zevran grinned. "I told you before that I like to know things. It is not just in places like Redcliffe where I have bought drinks and listened to the old people talk. Denerim, Highever, Amaranthine... anywhere I visit for long enough, I try to learn the old stories."
"The old gossip, you mean."
"Stories, gossip, history... it is all the same thing. Sometimes with more or less truth, depending on who is doing the telling, and why, and to whom. Yesterday's gossip is tomorrow's history and next week's fantastical story."
Fenris frowned slightly. "That sounds like something Varric would say, actually. Except he doesn't wait until next week to turn a good bit of gossip into a story."
Zevran grinned. "I must find the time to read some of his books. Isabela tells me they are quite good, of their sort, and that their sort is one I will like."
Fenris nodded thoughtfully. "She's probably right."
"Oh? You've read some of them then?"
Fenris blushed, even his ears reddening; an interesting and telling reaction. "One or two."
"Hah! Judging by that blush, I think I shall have to make a point of searching some out," Zevran said, and grinned.
Fenris snorted, then smiled. "Just don't expect me to read them."
"Not the sort of thing you like reading?"
"No, it's not that... it's just that so many of the character are based on people I actually knew, sometimes even events I'd been part of."
Zevran's eyebrows rose. "Does that mean you're actually in some of them?"
Fenris blushed again. "Yes. Though not in a, err... main role."
Zevran grinned. "Then I will most definitely need to find copies to read."