Written for a Valentine's Day prompt from r/dragonage: NPC POV Accidentally witnessing an intimate/soft moment between the OC and LI.
Alistair was fairly groggy when he crawled out of his tent. That was not entirely unexpected, considering that he'd had nightmares about the archdemon again, but apparently he had managed to oversleep. After the surprise Shriek attack, he and Darrian had agreed it would be best to keep a constant watch — but Darrian had never awakened Alistair for his turn.
He was surprised to see that only Leliana was awake at this early hour, though figured that maybe she had simply been awake already and volunteered to take his shift. She smiled kindly as she motioned to the tea she had apparently prepared. "Tea?"
"Yes, thank you," Alistair said, sitting down on the log beside her and accepting the offered mug. He took a sip, scanning the camp in the firelight and the hints of dawn that reached over the sky.
He froze as his gaze focused on Darrian's tent.
The flap was open, and the tent was empty.
Alistair frowned, nervously glancing toward the Antivan's bedroll. The assassin had not, as of yet, been provided with his own tent and no one had dared to share due to the whole trying to assassinate them thing. Alistair was still baffled by Darrian's choice to let the man live after he attempted to murder them.
That bewilderment shifted to alarm as he noted how the bedroll had clearly not been used that night, and said assassin was nowhere to be found.
"Leliana," Alistair said quietly, his eyes darting about the dark trees surrounding them. "Have you seen Darrian?"
He was surprised when Leliana giggled. "Yes," she answered after a moment.
"And? Where is he?" Alistair prodded impatiently.
Leliana smiled into her mug. "Washing."
Alistair's brow furrowed. The group had washed in a nearby pool just last night — which had been very necessary, at least according to the women.
"The Antivan?" he dared ask, deeply worried that Darrian had truly lost his mind.
"Zevran's with him," Leliana confirmed casually.
Alistair leapt to his feet, spilling some of the hot tea over his hand in the process. "You left him alone? With the assassin?"
"Darrian can take care of himself," Leliana tried to reassure him. "And Zevran has made no move to complete his contract."
"Yet," Alistair growled as he set down the mug and went to grab his sword belt.
"Alistair, wait!" Leliana said as he rushed by her. "Come back, you really shouldn't —."
But Alistair ignored her and headed in the direction of the pool. Leliana had been surprisingly accepting of the Antivan Crow, clearly intent on seeing good in people who had none. Alistair knew better.
He had stupidly left camp without a torch, but then again, he wasn't sure it was wise to make it too easy for the Crow to see him. The low light of dawn helped, though not enough for him to avoid running into a rope stretched between two trees near the pool.
"What the—?" He followed the rope and discovered some damp leather hanging from it. It was difficult to tell in the low light, but as his fingers traced along the collar he recognized it.
It was Zevran's armor, and it smelled of blood.
Alistair's hand went to his waist, grasping at the hilt of his sword as he cautiously approached the sound of splashing water just beyond. Some sunlight broke through the canopy, the surface of the pool shimmering beautifully.
Primal fear briefly froze Alistair in place as he caught sight of the blond Antivan. The assassin was holding the Warden's head below the surface of the water. Darrian's movements were such that he must barely be conscious, clearly unable to fight back. Alistair had only just managed to draw his sword when Zevran pulled Darrian up out of the water. Darrian sputtered a little, wiping water from his eyes as he laughed.
He…laughed?
"I believe I got it all out," Zevran said, though his voice was somewhat rough. "Next time, perhaps take more care not to drench your braids in the blood of your enemies. Contrary to what some may say, that will do nothing for the shine."
Alistair blinked, wondering if he had somehow slept through another surprise attack on the camp.
"I'll take that under advisement," Darrian said, grinning cheerfully as he turned to face the Antivan. "I'll need to come up with another…excuse to get you like this." The blond elf jumped slightly as Darrian stepped closer with one hand somewhere under the surface of the water while his other hand threaded through Zevran's wet hair.
"Excuses, excuses," Zevran echoed with a strangely shaky chuckle. "Here I thought you were a man of honor."
"I never claimed that," Darrian replied, so quiet it was almost lost in the soft lapping of the water at the shore.
"True," the Antivan admitted, shivering as Darrian's hand tightened into a fist in his hair. "But you can see where I got that impression. Your talk of duty, obligation, so deftly fending off my —." Zevran cut off with a small hiss as Darrian tugged his head to one side.
"Is that why you're here? Obligation?" Darrian growled into his ear.
Zevran closed his eyes, his breath hitching at whatever else Darrian murmured too quietly for Alistair to hear. "You know it's not."
"Do I?" Darrian asked, moving to look at Zevran's face.
The two simply stared at each other, locked together with how Darrian's hand was clenched in Zevran's hair, both flushed and panting like they had just been fighting. Surely Alistair should do something — Zevran's eyes were so dark and intent, he must mean to make his move now.
And then Zevran slipped a hand up to Darrian's neck. Before Alistair could do as much as shout a word of warning, the Crow tugged Darrian forward.
Darrian gasped as their mouths met, his eyes falling shut as he leaned into the kiss.
Alistair's jaw dropped, and he quite nearly lost grip of his sword as well. When bargaining for his life, Zevran had made some rather overt suggestions of what he could offer — but Darrian had wisely rebuffed him.
Yet now, instead of pushing the assassin away or otherwise rejecting him, Darrian pulled the Crow fully against him, moaning as he eagerly returned the kiss.
Wow, did he return it.
Alistair watched in confused shock, his feet firmly glued to the ground as the elves devoured each other. It was not anything how Alistair imagined such an act would be — it was violent, the way fingers dug into flesh, how Darrian tugged at Zevran's lip with his teeth, the groans drifting over the water far better suited for responses to pain than any sort of romantic act.
Neither of them behaved as though this was in any way painful. They seemed to be decidedly enjoying themselves, in fact.
Alistair's mind was struggling to let go of the instinct to defend Darrian, but his body felt suddenly hot despite the chilly morning air. Darrian's free hand ran along Zevran's back, over some of those interesting tattoos that curled all over the assassin's body, before slipping beneath the water and pulling Zevran more firmly against him. One of the elves moaned again, the sound utterly filthy, and Darrian smirked against Zevran's lips.
He had no idea how long he had been watching when the assassin's eyes flicked open and locked directly onto Alistair.
The assassin froze just long enough for Darrian to notice, and then his friend's eyes shifted to Alistair as well.
Darrian immediately stepped back from Zevran, a furious blush creeping up his chest and neck as he disentangled his fingers from the blond's hair. The assassin, apparently unaffected by the interruption, crossed his arms over his chest and arched an eyebrow. "See something you like?"
Alistair could just turn around and run back to camp. Or at least, he could have if he could make his legs move at all.
"Perhaps you would care to join us?"
"Zev!" Darrian gasped, his face so red it might as well have been splattered with blood — and Alistair was fairly certain he looked the same. "Of course he wouldn't," Darrian said with a little chuckle, smiling shyly as he managed to meet Alistair's eyes again. "Would you?" he added in a tone that sounded far too much like an offer.
"That's not — I thought — I'm going back to camp," Alistair somehow managed.
Zevran grinned. "Another time, then," he said pleasantly.
"Maker's breath," Alistair choked as he finally managed a step in retreat. "Later. I mean, I'll see you later. Clothed. You have clothes, yes?" he said awkwardly, finally tearing his eyes away to look at the strung up rope behind him. The sunlight finally revealed how the two had apparently both washed and hung their clothes to dry.
There was still a definite hint of blood on the air. He really would need to ask how that had come about, considering that the two were obviously not the ones injured.
That was assuming he could ever manage to speak with either man again after this.
Darrian whispered what sounded like a protest, and Alistair cast a glance back at the two and instantly regretted it. Blushing and wincing a little at Alistair's attention, Darrian tugged his lower lip between his teeth to stifle a moan as Zevran mouthed at his neck and ran a hand over his chest.
Zevran arched a challenging eyebrow at Alistair, all while swiping his tongue over Darrian's skin and up to the man's ear.
Alistair bolted back to camp.
Morrigan and Sten were awake now, both conversing a slight distance away from the fire. He was thankful for that space as he sat back down beside Leliana.
"I did try to stop you," Leliana said quietly.
Alistair coughed. "You knew? About the two of them?"
Leliana smiled serenely. "The way they've been looking at each other since they met? It was only a matter of time." She arched an eyebrow at him. "So…they finally…?"
"I think it could be called kissing," Alistair muttered under his breath, casting a wary glance toward the others. "But…Maker." When he closed his eyes, he was met with the very vivid sight of the two elves entangled together. With a slight groan, he realized he was never going to get that out of his head.
"You didn't interrupt them, did you?"
Alistair groaned again. "Yes, they noticed me watching."
"Watching?" Leliana said with far too much interest.
Alistair felt his face going red again. "Not like that."
"My my, something certainly got you hot and bothered," Morrigan's derisive tone cut in as she approached the campfire. "Perhaps you could use a cold bath?"
"No!" Alistair replied far too quickly. "Nope. No need for a bath."
"You do look rather sweaty, human," Sten said evenly. "Would a bath not be the appropriate solution?"
He would have to bathe with the others again, Alistair suddenly realized. It would happen, and he would see the two naked and all he would be able to think of would be how they looked as they were locked together, kissing and moaning and….
"Good morning," Zevran's voice chimed brightly from somewhere behind him. "Is there breakfast? I'm quite famished," he added, somehow making the comment sound obscene.
"Same. Oh, is that ginger tea?" Darrian said, his voice just a touch tremulous. "May I join you?"
Alistair shifted to make room for Darrian to sit beside him, but refused to look at him.
"Where did you two go last night?" Morrigan asked suddenly. "I saw you sneak out of camp."
"I thought I felt your hawkish gaze," Zevran replied calmly. "The matter has been taken care of, however. No need to concern yourself."
"What matter?" Morrigan prompted.
Darrian cleared his throat. "It was…personal. Not Warden business."
"If all is well, that's good enough for me," Leliana interjected when Morrigan began to ask another question.
"All is most definitely well," the Antivan purred.
"Yes, it is," Darrian replied under his breath. "Right, Alistair?" he added, sounding a touch concerned.
Alistair made what might have been an appropriate grunt of agreement.
He really should have listened to Leliana.