The After-Party

CONTENT:
Rating: Mature
Flavor: Adventure/Drama
Language: yes
Violence: no
Nudity: no
Sex: implied
Other: none

Author's Notes:

Epilogue? I dunno, it's called "The After Party" in my mind. :X Okay, nobody could help me come up with a better title. So there!

The After-Party

==#==

The royal hall was filled with people, of all shapes and sizes and colours. Petticoated ladies, armored dwarves, buckskin-clad elves; everyone wore their finest, or at least the finest they had on hand. Finest of them all was the bronze-skinned elf, in the satin rust tunic. Zevran was definitely getting lucky tonight. Bannon smiled at him in bemusement at all the ladies clustered about the assassin - and a few men. He was probably telling that story again.

Alistair came up on his right, mugs of beer in hand. "So what are you going to do now? Retire from the Wardens?"

"We need to use this good will and heroism to build up the ranks of the Grey Wardens," Bannon told him.

"What? Why? There's no more Archdemon, and there probably won't be for another thousand years or so." Alistair frowned. "It's so dangerous becoming a Warden. Why risk people's lives when we don't have to?"

"If we want there to be Grey Wardens in a thousand years, we had better build up our popularity while we can." The elf quaffed his beer. "We'll promote it as we go on this tour through Ferelden - and Orlais too, even if Anora hates it."

"We should go to Weisshaupt. Report in - and at least get some official Warden hierarchy going on."

"You go to Weisshaupt." Bannon looked for Zevran again. "We need to go to Antiva. We have business there."

"Annnnd... I don't want to know what kind of business. Right?"

Bannon gave him a look. "You already know."

"Hmm." He looked at the elf over the rim of his mug. "Well, just don't get killed. I'd really hate to lose my best friend."

Bannon's throat closed a moment. After all they'd been through... They truly were brothers. "Come on," he scoffed. "After two Crow ambushes, darkspawn, demons, a Broodmother and an Archdemon? How scary can they be?"

"Oh yes; I forgot who I was talking to."

They drank a few moments in silence. Then Zevran slipped through the crowd, an older human in tow. It was Genovan, the artisan in charge of sculpting the monument; he greeted Bannon with a boisterous, "It's an honor, ser!" and ushered them to a side room where they could view the maquette, a miniature of the planned design.

A little clay figure with a sword faced a roaring dragon. Certainly smaller than the Archdemon had been - or perhaps the elf was heroically larger. There was artistic license to consider.

"This looks good," Bannon said.

"Oh, thank you, ser! Of course, it's nothing compared to how grand the actual piece will be. We're ordering marble from Antiva!"

"And it will be up on a base?"

"Yes, ser!" Genovan shuffled through some papers and came up with a sketch of the statue in the center of the Denerim marketplace.

Bannon gestured. "Around the base should be plaques - portraits of each of the Warden companions. Alistair here at the front."

"Aw, pshaw!" the knight exclaimed with a bit of a blush. "Make sure you get my good side." He stretched his neck and posed.

Zevran frowned, tapping his chin with one finger. "I do not think I should be on there."

"Nonsense," Alistair told him. "You helped. With the comedic relief, at least."

"Why are you picking on me so much tonight, Alistair?"

"Did you forget your promise to never tease me again?"

"I'm considering breaking it," the assassin growled.

"Good! Then I get to say 'Oh, and by the way, here's your butt!'"

Zevran groaned.

Meanwhile, Bannon said Genovan, "Zevran's plaque will state how he heroically perished fighting the Archdemon."

"Uhhh...?" The sculptor's brow furrowed as he looked from Bannon to the bickering knight and assassin.

Bannon winked at him.

"Whatever you say, ser!" He scribbled down some notes.

"You should talk to Leliana about the best way to present everyone. I'm sure she has ideas on that. And she can describe Morrigan for you."

"You're going to put her on there?" Alistair asked.

"After what she did to you?" Zevran added venomously.

Bannon put up a forestalling hand. "She did help us, right from the start. And besides..." He eyed Zevran. "I'm alive, aren't I?"

"It's not certain that she had anything to do with that," the assassin scoffed.

"Yah. It is."

"Hmph."

"Unless she coerced Riordan into telling us that story just for her benefit," Bannon said. "I don't think so."

"Are you going to go after her?" Alistair asked cautiously.

"I don't think that's wise."

"But what about the-?"

"We can discuss that later." Bannon gave him the eye. "In private." Then he turned back to the artisan. "So... then everyone who died in the battle should have their name carved on plaques, like around the base."

"A-All of them?" Genovan stuttered. "Ser, that was hundreds, if not thousands!"

"You can make them tiles that you can add to, as you go along. It could take months... years of steady work." Bannon nodded at him, and he grinned.

"Yes, ser! But... I'm still not sure how they'd all fit? What if we run out of room on the statue base?"

"Instead of the base, put them all on paving stones around it. Then you can spread out as much as you need."

"Paving stones? To be trod upon? That... doesn't seem respectful."

Bannon said, "They are the very foundation of Ferelden, the strength that upholds our future generations."

"Ohh!" The sculptor jotted down more notes.

Alistair said, "You really want to honor... well, everyone? I mean, that's noble and all, but it is your monument."

"I want everyone in Denerim - for generations to come - to be able to go into the market and say, 'Look, here's the name of my great grandda' and 'There's my great great aunt.'"

"But...," Genovan interjected, "Well... surely the Dalish won't be coming to Denerim market. Or the dwarves."

"With the new King of Orzammar? Who wants to expand and open trade?" Bannon asked. "You bet there will be dwarves in the marketplace. And who knows? A Dalish warrior could marry a City Elf. Decide to move in. There may even be more trade and treaties with the Dalish. You want them to come in here and say, 'Look, they aggrandize their shem selves but forget the sacrifices we made'?"

Genovan gulped. "N-No no. No." He furiously took more notes.

Zevran tugged the sketch towards himself, studying it. "Hmm. If I may..." He began drawing.

Alarmed, Bannon asked, "Zevran, what are you doing?"

"They will be seeing you from behind, no? You are, after all, facing the Archdemon. You should show your mighty thews!"

"Ack!" said Alistair. "Oh, whew, I thought he was going to say- something else."

"Those are not...!" Bannon sputtered. "I-I'm sure my armor was covering that!"

"This is art," the Antivan emphasized. "Not reality. Make sure to show his good side, no?" he added to Genovan with a wink. The man blushed.

Bannon stepped in. "You will take Leliana's advice over anything this guy says!" He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Zevran.

"In anything," Alistair added.

"Nonsense!" Zevran scoffed. "I have fine artistic tastes! Have I not proven that?"

"What about that picture of Morrigan's boobs you painted on her tent?" Alistair reminded him.

"Or Alistair with his mighty 'sword'?" Bannon added, making the knight blush furiously.

"Works of art!" the Antivan proclaimed.

Alistair said, "You know, Leliana is penning a children's book, based on that story."

"What?" said Zevran.

"A children's book?" asked Bannon.

"Yeah, she's got an artist replicating the elven stick figure motif. It's hilarious."

The elves shared a gobsmacked look. "Buuuuh," managed Bannon.

Alistair burst out laughing. "Oh, Maker! You two are so easy now that the Blight is over!"

"Pah!" Zevran scoffed.

"No," said Bannon, "I was just playing along to help you gull Zevran."

"No, I was playing along to trick you."

Alistair said, "You're both a bunch of liars. And by the way, here's your butts!"

"Argh!" Bannon slapped a hand over his face, while Zevran growled, gritting his teeth.

Alistair just laughed harder at the elves' expense.

==#==

A little later, while Bannon was making the rounds, he came across Wynne in a quiet alcove. "You're looking well," he told the grey-haired mage.

"Thank you. I've been working with First Enchanter Irving to regain my strength."

"Oh? And a little something else?" he insinuated with a broad wink.

"No!" She mock swatted him. "Silly boy!"

"Mm hm," he said, not swayed.

"Maybe Zevran has been a bad influence on you."

"Never! Oh," Bannon said, thinking a moment, "Well... yeah, always."

"Mm hm," Wynne shot back at him.

"Where's Shale?"

"Outside. He doesn't care for parties and crowds." She looked at the carpet, her eyes darkening. "He saved my life."

"I heard. He carried you?" Bannon asked with incredulity. He was quite familiar with the golem's opinion on serving mages, fetching and carrying.

"So I'm told. Of course, I wasn't conscious of it. I was rather... dead. Again."

"I'm glad you're not." Bannon clasped her hand, warming her fingers under his skin. Wynne smiled fondly at him. "You have to finish reading us the tales of the warrior squirrel!"

"Ach!" she scoffed, retrieving her hand. "Can't you boys ever let a tender moment just... be?"

"Nah." He shrugged that notion off. She didn't push him on it, perhaps because it was a party in his honor, and he deserved a break.

Instead she said, "I just wish I knew how to repay Shale."

Bannon thought about it. "Well, you could do more golem research? Shale seems heavily interested in having kindred."

Wynn pressed her lips into a thin line. "His - her - people are dwarves." Then she sighed. "There's no untangling that skein, is there?"

Bannon shrugged.

"Besides, I'm feeling my age, now. I do not want to go back to crawling around in those dark, dank tunnels."

The two shared a commisserative shudder.

"Maybe somewhere sunny and warm," Wynne said hopefully.

"You could research a nice beach somewhere."

She laughed lightly. "Oh, maybe in the forest of the Dalish. They may have magic we've forgotten."

"We'll be heading down that way soon. If you want to go with us?"

"I should return to the Tower, at least for the winter."

A pang of loneliness struck Bannon. As glad as he was that the Blight was over, he would miss the band of companions, and their adventures together.

Wynne seemed to pick up on his melancholy, and tried to stir him out of his mood. "So you'll be off, traveling?"

"Yep. The Grand Grey Warden tour." He smiled. "Got to boost the Grey Warden fame and fortune while it's still fresh in people's minds. Make sure they keep tradition alive for the next Blight."

Wynne clasped his hand. "Bannon, you really are a good boy. A good man."

He flushed slightly. "Me? Naah, I..."

"Mm hm. Don't worry. I won't tell anyone."

==#==

Many people were outside the castle, in the courtyard. The more boisterous ones, and those who didn't care for enclosed spaces. Bannon found Oghren drinking while Sten and Shale compared scars. The golem had some new cracks, while Sten had one horn and half his face torn off by darkspawn. It made him look all the scarier.

"Are you going to retire from being a warrior?" Bannon asked him cautiously. After suffering such a grievous injury, and fighting off more than his fair share of the horde, surely Sten deserved a break.

"The Qun does not care what you look like."

"Really?" said Bannon. "What, elves, humans, dwarves... they're all the same?"

"Yes. Only mages are different."

"Huh." Bannon pondered this state of affairs. Still, he didn't think he'd like it there. "So you're going back?"

"Yes."

"To report on the Grey Wardens?"

"Yes. And your nation. It is... chaotic, yet somehow quite strong."

"Yeah," Bannon had to agree.

"I doubt we could conquer you."

"Conq- wait, what?" Bannon almost choked.

Sten continued, oblivious. "However, I think you would allow... what do you call them? A religious enclave. To come and preach. To teach the ways of the Qun."

"Uh... I... I guess so?" The qunari wanted to conquer Ferelden? With religion? Bannon scratched his head. "You think Fereldens will listen?"

"No," said Sten. "I think... too many of your warriors want to be bards." He tilted his head.

"Well, what do you want to be?"

"I want to be worthy of my Asala. To be strong, to be steadfast and true." He looked into the distance, his profile strong.

"Without having someone tell you when and how to be those things?" Bannon asked cannily.

The qunari frowned. "I have much to think about. Thank you, Warden."

==#==

Bannon could only hope he'd prevented a war with wherever Sten was from. He went back inside, wondering whom he should tell. Probably Anora. Great, she'd no doubt blame him for all that.

"Bannon!" Leliana called out to him.

"Hey! Did you know Sten was scouting to plan an invasion of Ferelden?"

The bard just gave him a pitying look.

"Wait. You did? What?"

She sighed and put a hand on one hip. "Honestly, Bannon, when he said he came to see if the prowess of the Grey Wardens was true or - well - just a legend, why did you think he was interested? And all those questions about our traditions and society, the ruling government?"

"Uhh...?" This was the first Bannon had heard.

"That's why you didn't know," Leliana admonished him.

"So... Should I be worried he's going back to report? Do we need to assassinate him?"

"What did he say he was going to report?"

"That the qunari can't conquer us, probably. So instead they'll send missionaries, preaching the Qun?"

"Ah, so a non-violent takeover, then," she said with a pleased nod.

Bannon was not pleased! "B-B-Buh-! Fereldens won't want to live that way!"

"Then you have nothing to worry about, yes?"

He thought for a moment. And didn't come up with much. "Maybe?"

"Good! I hear you will be doing some traveling. I hope I will see you in Val Royeaux."

"Val...? You're going back to Orlais? Wait, are you really a bardic spy for the empire, and not a Chantry Sister?" Come on, like the Blight wasn't enough for one elf to deal with!?

She crinkled her nose in a cute smile. "Why can't I be both?"

"Uh...!?"

"Bannon, honestly. The Maker sent me to help you save the world from the Blight."

"Right..." He looked at her. She looked at him, her blue-grey eyes steadfast and open. "Right." He hoped.

"I will be leaving in the morning for a whirlwind tour of Ferelden," she said.

"Are you coming with us?"

"No, no. I must stop at every town and crofthold, city and manse. Don't worry, I will never be far from you in spirit. Once everyone starts singing The Ballad of Bannon, it will be as if I am everywhere."

"The Ballad of Bannon..." He tried to imagine everyone.. singing about him! Every child, every man, every woman! Singing about his prowess!

"Of course, I must also pen the narrative. Oh, and contract the illuminators for the illustrated adventures. Those will be quite the pride of any library's collection - oh! I must have one sent to you."

"Illustrated?" he asked in worry. Hadn't Alistair said... wait!

"Yes! I was quite inspired by your and Zevran's artistry."

He gaped. "Uh..." This could not be happening.

"For now, though, I bid you farewell, and best of luck." She darted forward and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Ta ta!" She crinkled her nose again and dashed off.

"Buh... Bye? But I thought Alistair was joking about that! Leliana...?"

==#==

Late the next evening, Bannon carried a covered tray down the hall, doing his best not to show how heavy it really was. Anora had posted guards at the end of the guest hall, to fend off well-wishers and glory-seekers. Everyone had a room fit for nobility. Bannon, of course, had the largest at the end of the hall, fit for royalty, like the Hero of Ferelden.

The elf leaned against the broad oak door, wedging the tray up as he groped with one hand for the latch. He timed his entry with the swinging door, as not to drop his burden. Then he edged around and shoved the door closed with one foot.

He blinked a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, wondering why there wasn't even one lamp lit. His breath caught a moment when he saw a wicked gleam in the shadows.

"Oh, help, guards," he deadpanned. "There's an assassin in my room."

Zevran chuckled throatily.

"What are you doing hiding in the dark?"

"Attempting to surprise you."

"You take your life into your own hands there." When Zevran glided forward, Bannon foisted the tray onto him. "Here, help me carry this."

"Why do you need help carrying a- oof."

They carted the tray over to the table. Bannon shoved some candlesticks out of the way to make room. Zevran said, "I would ask what you've been up to in the kitchens, but I think I have a good idea."

It was Bannon's turn to chuckle. "I," he said, tugging the lid upward, "am not leaving this room for a week."

The domed cover came free reluctantly, and instead of a simple set of plates and goblets, it was packed top to bottom with fruit, ham, and rolls. The pile couldn't sustain itself, and several apples and oranges rolled off, some all the way to the floor.

Zevran caught one. "Alas, I was hoping you had at least stolen me a feast. No fish chowder?"

"Yuck. And no."

"Bah. Besides," the assassin griped, "this will hardly last you two days, my hungry Warden."

"Oh, I think there will be plenty to eat..." Bannon sidled around behind him and nuzzled his ear.

"'My insatiable Warden' I should say," Zevran corrected with a saucy grin. He wriggled out of Bannon's grasp and led his partner into the bed alcove. "As for me, I plan to not leave this bed for a whole week!" He winked an amber eye. "And to facilitate my oh-so-devious plan...!" he snatched up a dark rectangular object from the nightstand and flourished it.

"It's a...?"

"A gift from Wynne."

"Wynne?" Bannon tried to think what kinky things she would give to the assassin. Then it clicked. "A book?"

"Si! The further adventures of the Antivan warrior squirrel!"

"Wait, when did he become Antivan?" Bannon asked suspiciously.

"A golden-furred squirrel among so many dull grey Ferelden ones?"

"Hey!"

"It is obvious. While we are most deservedly resting and recuperating between other activities..." Zevran waggled his brows. "You can read it to me."

Bannon's mouth started to curl in a little secret smile, as he imagined snuggling up in bed with Zevran, reading together. "Wait," he said, a frown interrupting. "Why do I have to read it to you? Why don't you read it to me?"

"You are a better reader than I," the assassin said quickly. "Your voice, so mellifluous; your tongue so nimble; your lips as-"

"If you want this supposedly Antivan squirrel to have an Antivan accent, you need to read it."

"Nonsense! Your Antivan accent is impeccable!"

"That's not what you called it last time."

"Pah! A jest, of course." Zevran waved that off airily. "You, mi incrediblie patrone, can do voices."

Bannon had to admit that was true. Still. "Why should I do all the work? We can read it to each other."

Zevran nodded. "Si. You can read the odd-numbered chapters, and I, the even." He smiled. "Come, let us get into bed, with food galore and our book, and start!"

"Hang on." The thief stopped the eager assassin. "If there's an odd number of chapters, that means I have to read more than you." Another thought occurred to him. "And what if there aren't chapters at all?"

"Then you, amore', will be stunningly awesome! Did I not say you are a far better reader than I?"

"Then you should practice more."

"No no no. I shall have the opportunity to learn from a true master." Zevran clasped his hands and made adoring eyes.

Bannon had to admit... that was pretty good. "I think you already picked up the fine art of bullshitting from me."

"Just so! You see? I am your most willing student! Show me more of your incredible talents." Zevran started slowly rubbing Bannon's arms. "And I will teach you mastery of the arts of lovemaking."

The offer was too tempting. Besides, Bannon couldn't argue any further with his mouth so entrapped by the assassin's warm lips.

Swiftly, they were under the covers, and well-provisioned with sustenance and entertainment to stay there all week.

==XXX==

End Notes:

And just like that... The End! ...? It's so hard to believe this thing took me just about TEN YEARS!? Maker, say it isn't so!

THANK YOU for making it to the end! I hope you thoroughly enjoyed it as much as I do (and I still like to reread parts from time to time)! Congratulations to my old fans for making the long haul. And welcome new fans! I hope you didn't hurt yourself trying to read it all in one night/weekend! :)

PARTY TIME!