Zevran did not sleep that night, and by the time the sun crept over the horizon, he was tired of the derision and negativity of the voice inside his head. Arian's last words hung thick in the air, leaving a bitter aftertaste.
Love.
She loved him.
It should have been simple. He should have either been elated or put off. Just like comforting her when she was in pain or supporting her when she was insecure, responding to her declaration should have been easy - natural. But, just like those things which he still struggled with, this was far too complicated for she had used the one word he would likely never be able to define.
How did one know when they were in love with someone? How did Arian know she was in love with him? She'd spoken the word to Alistair as well. Several times. Did that mean that one could love more than one person? Did that make love something cheap that could be passed around like a party favor?
One thing was clear. He did not want her to love him the way she loved Alistair. Because she was not with Alistair. She was with him, and Zevran definitely wanted to be with her. Did that mean he was in love with her? No. That seemed too simple. He'd wanted to be with Rinna, too, but his feelings for her were very different from what he felt for Arian.
After much internal debate, he decided to leave the matter alone for now. They had much more pressing things to worry about, such as traversing the Hinterlands and passing through the South Reach without falling to Darkspawn and other dangers. Arian had estimated the trip could take up to a week depending on their pace and whatever they encountered. He had to have a clear head going into this. Otherwise, he couldn't protect her from whatever came their way.
When the time came to prepare for travel, he tried to wake Arian, realizing quickly that it was a losing battle. He managed to prop her up, letting her sit against the headboard while he ordered a bath brought to his chambers. She seemed relatively alert by the time he lowered her into the tub, but when he returned from the kitchens bearing some breads, cheeses, and other delicacies, she had fallen back asleep while bathing.
He helped her don her Grey Warden armor and eat a small meal. She was even awake enough to have a conversation with the servants and Bann Teagan. Disguised, she was her normal polite, reserved, and noble self, even managing a smile or two when needed. But, after they left for the stables, it was clear that Arian would indeed need to catch up on sleep, at least during the first leg of their trip. She wavered on her feet and could hardly form a coherent thought. When they were out of sight, Zevran picked her up in his arms, telling her to rest and reassuring her that he would take care of her while she did. He settled her into a half empty wagon, covering her in some furs to keep her warm.
From there, he easily fielded questions and concerns from her companions. Alistair helped, providing some rather good excuses where he could so that when the Grey Warden's party finally set off on their trip, it was not a shock for anyone that their leader had chosen to rest instead of riding ahead on Astenos as was the norm. However, the glare the young Templar gave Zevran suggested he knew the assassin was responsible for Arian's condition and did not appreciate his carelessness. Zevran tried to ignore him, for Arian's sake if nothing else. But it was his Warden herself that showed anyone who cared to look over the course of the next day that Zevran had everything to do with her sudden bout of exhaustion.
After she recovered some sleep and emerged from the wagon, she could not look Zevran in the face without turning a very bright and very obvious shade of red. In her disguise as Elissa, this color was nearly as brilliant as her fiery hair. She avoided him when possible, and though Zevran found her behavior both adorable and highly amusing, he stayed back and gave her space.
By the third day, however, he was missing her. Being so far from her, unable to touch her, to kiss her, to feel her warmth against his side, made him restless and moody. He hated sleeping alone in his cold bedroll, knowing she was just a few steps away. As they traveled, he began finding things in the passing scenery that reminded him of her. The vivid green trees were the color of her magic. The passing breeze carried her woodland scent. The rays of the golden sun mirrored the brilliance of her eyes. He appreciated the way her rump bowed and swayed with the movements of her horse, imagined how he might run his hands -
"You've been watching her," a voice said to his left. He turned to find that Wynne had ridden up beside him on her horse. "You and Alistair both."
He said nothing, hoping she would lose interest and ride on. At the moment, he did not appreciate her interrupting his inner monologue.
"I find that I still don't understand how you came to join her on this quest."
He forced himself to smile, forced his voice to sound light and playful. "I am just such a charmer, dear Wynne. Have you not heard?"
"I have, and it is precisely what I've heard that worries me."
He wasn't going to play into that. If she wanted confirmation of their relationship, she'd have to go to his Warden. He'd sworn to keep his silence, after all. What did this mage hope to gain by poking and prodding in their leader's private life, anyhow?
"You know, Wynne, now that I see you up close, I feel that I have been remiss in my attentions to you."
"Pardon?"
He gave her his most winning smile. "You have beautiful skin and quite an alluring figure. I know a friend in Antiva who would just love to meet you."
"If this is your way of deflecting my questions..."
"I assure you, I speak nothing but truth, my dear." He gave her a wink for good measure. The mage pursed her lips, looking not the least bit amused.
"Young man, I am old enough to be your grandmother."
He shrugged. "You say this like it is a bad thing."
She was silent for a time, and he thought he might have succeeded in diverting her attention elsewhere. However, she spoke again, her voice less stern this time.
"Zevran, was it?"
"Indeed."
"Who is the Warden to you?"
First Alistair, and now this woman? Was this about his damned "intentions" again? Why did everyone insist on sticking their noses where they did not belong? Were all Fereldens this nosy about other people's business?
"She spared my life, and I have sworn myself to her service."
"Were you so ready to leave your old life behind? Just because your mission failed?"
"I think of all people, Wynne, you should be most understanding." When she didn't respond to him, he went on. "You, a Circle Mage, should know how it feels to have no choice in what master you serve, yes?"
"Is that why you left Antiva?"
"Is it not why you left the Circle? To serve another master? One of your choosing?"
"I do not think that -"
"We all have our reasons for doing what we do," he cut in. Glancing at her, he gave her the most charming smile he could muster. "Mine just happens to come with a pair of lovely eyes and a fearsome reputation." He spurred his mount into a light canter, putting just enough distance between them to let her know the conversation was over. She did not approach him again that day.
To his surprise, it was the red-haired Leliana that rode up to him next. He'd always enjoyed her company more than the others, though he did not know why. She was lovely, certainly, but that wasn't the reason. He waited for her to ask him something, perhaps bring up some topic he didn't want to discuss or even to reminisce about her time as a bard. When she continued to remain silent, he stole a glance at her face. She was looking towards Arian and Alistair, her clear blue eyes clouded with an emotion he couldn't name. Then she turned, surprising him, and met his gaze.
"You are not the only one who watches her," she said. "Not the only one who longs for her. Look at this quest we are on to find the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Today, I was thinking how similar our Warden is to that urn. Everyone longing to come and take a piece, hoping the ashes will right their wrongs."
Zevran turned to look at Arian.
"But what if everyone in the world was allowed to take some Ashes? Soon, there would not be any left..."
He wasn't sure he understood what she was trying to say. That Arian was stretching herself too thin? That she was giving too much of herself to try to solve the world's problems? Anyone close to her could see that much. It wouldn't have taken an oracle to divine that.
"What we do is for the greater good," Leliana went on. "I know that. I was also a bard long enough to know plenty of tales where the hero will perish for the good of all others." She frowned. "I used to love those tales, until I met Arianwen. Now, I wonder if her destiny is to perish for this land...for this Blight..."
Zevran's hands tightened on his reigns. His horse, sensing his sudden tension, shied and took a few quick steps. He eased it back to a steady pace with his thighs.
"I will not let that happen," he swore. "Not while I have breath."
"Why? Because she has sworn to protect you from your past?"
He thought about it for a long time, searching for an answer. Many fought to the surface, but only one felt like the right response to the bard's question.
I do not want to live without her.
He did not say it aloud. Couldn't. But, it seemed that Leliana heard him nevertheless.
"What you feel now, Zevran, when you think of how to answer me...that confusion, that uncertainty, is what we call love..."
Zevran had no proper response to that. For once, no witty retort came to mind. Leliana rode the rest of the way that day in silence, perhaps letting him mull over her words. Eventually, Zevran forgot she was there. He focused on the long ride, on the familiar sway of his mount as they traversed the countryside.
How did one know they were in love with someone? Leliana's answer had seemed too complicated. Men and women he'd been with alike had used the word without reservation, claiming they loved him, claiming they couldn't live without his love and attention. Some, he filtered out of his memories. Beggars pleading for their lives, hoping to garner favor with him. Others had been whores or worse, vendors to an illusion of love.
Arian had none of these reasons to tell him she loved him. She'd said so herself, that she did not want to tie him down. There had been no vows of loyalty between them, no agreement to be each other's one and only partner. They had struck a bargain, had forged a contract for mutual benefit. Once that was over, surely they would go their separate ways. That explanation made sense. It fit in with what he had known his entire life.
So why, then, had he found himself wanting to take care of her? Why was he so gentle with her? Why did he feel like he might lose his very soul if she disappeared from his sight?
He focused on that thought. Focused on imagining a world without Arian. A place where he could not hear her laughter, could not see her golden eyes, could not taste her lips, feel her heat, or hear her sweet voice calling his name. A cold sweat broke out around the nape of his neck at that image, the same kind of dread that he'd felt when he first discovered the letter from the Crows on her bedside table.
He didn't want her to disappear. He didn't want to see her in pain. He wanted her smiling for him, always. Wanted to hold her in his arms whenever he wished, to kiss her whenever he wished.
Was this...what love was?
He almost spurred his horse forward in that moment. More than anything, he wanted to go to her, to Arian, to ask her what love meant to her. He wanted to see if her understanding of that foreign concept matched his own. But, he stopped himself. His oath stopped him. It did not matter that a few in the party knew that there was something between them. He couldn't break his promise not to reveal their secret unless she gave consent.
So, he stayed back. He stayed far back, fighting with his impulsive nature, wrestling the beast back into its cage for the sake of his honor. And her trust.
By the end of the fourth day of their traveling, Zevran was losing his patience and the fight with that inner beast. He'd been watching Alistair riding up front with his Warden for the past several days. Their awkward encounter seemed to be forgotten. In fact, they appeared to be on the best of terms, laughing like children. In the evening, they'd engaged in some kind of deep conversation for hours until Arian fell asleep leaning against the Templar's shoulder. He let her stay there, staying stock still, afraid to move in case he might wake her. Zevran had watched from a distance, determined to keep his irritation in check. But, when Alistair picked her up and started to carry her to her tent, he finally lost the battle with himself.
Jaw clenching so tight his teeth hurt, he shadowstepped through the darkness until he appeared right in front of the pair. He schooled his expression into one he was most familiar with. His killer's face. His Crow's face. It was a face that had terrified many a mark, but Alistair met it with a cool reserve. Once again, it made Zevran question just how much wiser Alistair was than any of them. How much more mature he was than the constant act he put on for the benefit of group dynamics.
No words were exchanged between them. Zevran simply reached out and gently took Arian into his arms. Alistair let her go without resistance, though his jaw was clenched tight and a furrow knifed between his eyebrows. His eyes blazed, promising retribution should he harm her. Ridiculous, for Zevran would no sooner hurt his Warden than he would hurt himself.
Feeling her warmth suffuse his body, Zevran breathed a silent sigh of relief. He realized that he'd been aching these past days. Aching to touch this woman so much that his very body felt sore and exhausted. He shouldered his way into her tent and set her down in her bedroll, covering her. He lingered there, wanting to stay - yearning to wake her and talk to her, to ask her more about what she'd meant when she said she loved him.
But, he could not stay. By his honor, he could not. And so, he turned to leave.
"Zevran?" a sleepy voice called him back.
It worked like chains, pulling him, drawing him back, adding the final drop to his pool of need that made the dam break and the river overflow. His eyes met golden irises, his skin breaking out in goosebumps when Arian's hand came up to stroke the side of his face. A thousand desires pulled him in a thousand directions. To kiss her. To hold her. To talk to her. To make her say what she'd said that morning over and over again.
Maybe if she repeated it, it would make more sense, this love. This insanity.
"Zevran, is everything alright?"
No. It wasn't.
This was wrong on so many levels.
But, he no longer cared.
"Arian," he sighed, laying down beside her and resting his ear against her chest. He listened to her heartbeat, hugging her close, shivering when she stroked his hair. Her fingernails graze his scalp just enough to send electric currents running down his spine. He relaxed, all tension melting from him.
"What's wrong?" she asked him. "Did something happen?"
"Let me stay like this," he said. "Alright? Just...let me stay..."
"Of course," she said, a gentle smile in her voice. "Of course you can stay. Zevran, I meant to tell you. I don't...I don't want to hide it anymore. What we have. Not from the people close to us, at least."
His breath caught, and he waited to hear the rest of what she had to say.
"For Lissa's reputation, I...I want to be careful when we meet new people. But here, in the camp, I don't want to lie anymore. Not to myself, not to you, or to anyone." She took a deep breath. "I'm so tired of lying..."
"If that is your command," he said, "then I will obey it."
He raised himself up on his elbows, looking down at her beneath him. Gently, as though touching a piece of glass that might break, he traced the back of his calloused hand against the side of her face, running it down her neck and across her collar bone. He heard her breath snag. As soon as their gazes met, she flushed darkly and looked away from him. He chuckled, unable to contain himself.
"What's this, my Grey Warden. Are you having dirty thoughts?"
She hid part of her face under the covers. "Y-you did things...we did things that were...oh Mythal save me, I just can't look at you without remembering..."
His smile faltered. "Do you regret it? Giving yourself to me?"
Her eyes fell closed and she shook her head. "No."
"Then why will you not look at me?"
She met his gaze, her face still burning. Her voice came as a whisper. "B-Because, I...when I see you or hear you speak to me I...I can't help but want you to do those things again."
A rush of tenderness filled him. Pride, too. Pride that he had made her yearn for him so. This woman who slew high dragons, demons, and Darkspawn lost her nerve because he made her want him too much. The thought was exhilitarting.
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Would you like to announce our relationship to the camp formally tonight in that sweet voice of yours?"
She squirmed to get away. "Um...no...we should still be careful...about that..."
He let her go, amused by her shyness, wanting to see what she would do next.
"I should...go bathe. I probably smell like Astenos."
He raised a brow. "Is that an invitation, mio amore?"
Arian squeezed her lips together, turning away. "Only if you wish it."
The images that came to mind at her words left his heart racing. "I do, my dear...indeed I do."
