144. The Double-Edged Truth

His Warden had not been able to look at him all day.

Zevran did not claim to be a master at reading expressions.. not the way his Finian was, anyway. However, he was certainly savvy enough to know that whatever secret the Amell woman had told the Wardens, it had upset them. The march out of Redcliffe had been quite morose because of it.

Finian seemed to be more affected than most. He was twitchy and distracted, constantly fidgeting with his earring. At any other time, Zevran would have found the action endearing, but he couldn't shake the thought that the Warden's distraction was in part due to himself, and so he worried.

They called camp later that night than they usually did, and would no doubt get up earlier in the morning as well. Finian went off to talk in low voices to Riordan, and Zevran began setting up their tent in silence. He did so with perhaps a bit more murderous ire than was necessary, but the tent stakes were not about to complain. He did not enjoy being kept out of the loop.

As he was kicking the last tent stake in with intent toward its eventual demise, Finian's hand abruptly closed around his wrist and yanked him into a stumbling walk. Zevran jumped and arrested a grab for his dagger, and would have chastised his Warden on the foolishness of sneaking up on a professional assassin, but Finian was setting a truly brutal pace as he was pulled out over the rolling hills and down into a ravine that was hidden by trees.

Finian was not a particularly strong man—nowhere near the likes of Percival or Alistair, or even Zevran himself—but his grip on Zevran's wrist was steel. Finian so rarely exercised his physical strength that Zevran could only wonder and worry as he was tugged down into the darkness of an overhang in the ravine. Even moreso as he caught a flash of the dark expression on his lover's face.

Finally, Finian released him, and Zevran caught his balance, stepping back to rub his wrist. He was not fond of being manhandled outside a bedroom setting, and Finian knew this. Something was very wrong. He stood and waited for his Warden to say it.

Except that Finian did not speak, and that was perhaps another tell. When Finian was upset, he bottled it up and hid it behind smiles and wit. It was a philosophy Zevran was not unfamiliar with himself. In these past weeks, Zevran had thought that he had broken past that. They both had. It had been a revelation on both sides.

Could it be that his Warden regretted? Was he about to take back everything?

No, he was still wearing the earring. For some reason, that was very important to remember.

Finally, Finian stilled, and turned to regard Zevran for a moment in silence. In the very dim light of the stars, Zevran could see wide, frightened eyes.

"Zev..." he said at long last. "You know I love you, right?"

Ah, and there is was. The final tell. They had a sort of unspoken understanding, that they would never speak that word aloud. Neither of them was comfortable with it. To speak it aloud was to admit that it may be their last chance to do so. That one of them was about to die.

"Amor," Zevran said shakily. "You are frightening me."

Fin turned and retreated back into the darkness, to resume pacing. Zevran could barely see his progress in the moonlight. "There are some things I haven't told you, Zev. About being a Grey Warden."

"And there are some things I have not told you about being a Crow. I do not want to tell them. It is all right. I understand."

"No..." Fin's voice cracked. "You don't."

Zevran licked his lips, still worried and still uncertain as to the truth of this situation. "Then help me to understand, Warden. It is obvious that something is bothering you. Tell it to me. We will share the burden, no?"

Fin shook his head in the starlight, but it wasn't a refusal. "It's not your burden. But you have a right to know." Finian turned, and now, at least, resolution replaced the desperation in his eyes. "What I'm about to tell you is a Warden secret. You can't tell anyone, on pain of death for both of us."

"Again, I cannot help but appreciate the parallel between your Wardens and my Crows."

A flash of a smile, but brief and sad. It was something, anyway. "Do you know what makes Grey Wardens special? Why we're so important to fighting the darkspawn?"

Zev shrugged. "I had always assumed it was the fact that Wardens are chosen from a pool of elite fighters, combined with excruciating training. Such is the case with most elite forces, certainly."

"It's more than that." He lowered his voice, despite the fact that distance and a wall of rock would have prevented anyone else from overhearing. "Wardens are special because we've got Taint in our blood. It helps us feel the darkspawn."

This was the big secret? It had to be more than that. "Then I shall refrain in the future from drinking your blood, yes?"

Finian shook his head, not rising to the jest. "There are two consequences of this. The first... all Grey Wardens are slowly dying of the darkspawn Taint."

At that, something inside Zevran's chest twisted. He'd been involved in this Blight long enough to see quite a few men succumb to the Taint. It was not a peaceful death, and that by Crow standards. "How slowly?"

"Years. Decades, actually. It's fine for a while, until it comes on fast and hard near the end. They call it the Calling, when a Warden goes to the Deep Roads and takes down as many darkspawn as he can before he succumbs."

"And it takes decades?" The constriction around Zevran's heart eased a bit, and he allowed a short burst of laughter. "Amor, do you have any idea the life expectancy of someone of my profession? Or yours, for that matter? If we manage to survive for decades, then I suspect we would not have lived well enough!"

That finally pulled a chuckle out of his lover, but it faded quickly. "That's... the second thing. About having the Taint in my blood."

"Do not keep me in suspense, Warden."

Again, Finian paced, and it was strange to see the other elf fighting to find the words. "There's a reason Wardens are necessary to slay the archdemon."

"Yes," the assassin replied with some annoyance, "I do remember the healer hinting rather incessantly about something along those lines."

"She told us why, today. I didn't know." He spun toward him and earnest, panicking eyes flashed in the darkness. "I swear, Zev, I didn't know."

His Warden was working himself up, so Zevran stepped forward and placed his hands on his lover's shoulders, steadying him. "What did you not know? Please, I must know what has upset you so."

Finian looked down and swallowed thickly. "Felicity told us... that when an archdemon's body is slain, it doesn't die. We're talking about a Tainted old god, so small surprise, right? So, instead of dying with the body, the spirit sort of... hops. Goes to the nearest darkspawn and transforms it right back into what it was."

Zevran froze, remembering how many darkspawn he'd encountered. And like to be hundreds more, if the stories of this horde were to be believed. "By that logic, the archdemon would be pretty much immortal."

"That's why the First Blight lasted so long," Finian whispered. "It just kept hopping and hopping, and no one could stop it. Not until the first Wardens found a way."

Zevran's grip on Fin's shoulders tightened. "And this has something to do with the Taint in your blood?"

Fin nodded. "If, instead of a darkspawn, a Grey Warden is nearest to the dying archdemon, its soul mistakes that Warden for darkspawn... it tries to enter a vessel that already has a soul, clashes, and is destroyed."

Zevran couldn't breathe. Slowly, he said, "And what happens to the Grey Warden's soul when it clashes?" Finian looked down, and Zevran shook him, willing him to tell the truth. "Amor, tell me. What happens to the Grey Warden?"

"His soul is destroyed with it." It was the softest whisper on the air, but it was utterly world-shaking. "He dies."

No. No no no no... "You will not be this Warden," Zevran growled. "I will not let you be the one to do this."

"Well, I'm not going to try." Brown eyes flashed back up to his. "Tradition dictates that the Warden closest to his Calling is the one to make the sacrifice. So, if all goes according to plan, it will be Riordan."

Zevran could hear a 'but' in Finian's voice. He did not want there to be a 'but.'

"But..." Fin continued, and Zevran flinched. "...if something happens... if there's an opportunity, or Riordan falls before we get to the archdemon... we have to take any chance we can in stopping the darkspawn. It's not a choice, Zev."

Zevran let go. He suddenly could not touch Finian for one moment longer, and backed away swiftly as the other man reflexively reached out.

He couldn't take this. This pain and loss... it was unacceptable. "Why did you tell me this?" he hissed.

"You had a right to know."

"Why?" He waved a hand, finding that he was shaking. "Why would you think it would be a good idea to tell me this? I know you, Warden. You will do this thing, like the danger-seeking martyr you are, and you now ask me to stay back and watch you do it, knowing what will happen? Why do you think this better than ignorance?"

"I wanted to give you a chance..." Fin said softly. "...to walk away before..."

"That is no longer an option for me!" Fin's eyes widened, and Zevran threw his hands in the air. As observant as his Warden was, he was so very blind about some things! "I was happy just being a runaway Crow! I took my pleasures where I could get them, and if it was with an exciting, handsome Warden, more the better! But no, you, with your smooth tongue, and your adventure-seeking, and your probing questions, and your Fabricante condenado caring heart, you made me fall in love with you, and now I cannot walk away!"

He swooped in on his stunned Warden, gripping him by the cuirass and shaking him. "Do you understand? I cannot lose you!" It was Rinna all over again, except that this time it was so much worse, because this time there had been hope, and a future, and it was Finian himself who would take it all away, all because his damned bleeding heart would not let him do otherwise.

Zevran slumped against his Warden's chest as his strength fled under a tide of misery. "I cannot lose you," he repeated softly against Fin's leather chestplate.

Fin's arms wrapped around him, strong and gentle, and Zevran thought he really might cry. He knew how this would end. His Warden would sacrifice himself if he felt it necessary, and Zevran would do nothing but watch. It would destroy him, but he could not stop his Warden from doing anything that he felt needed to be done. Far better to follow him through the Veil than walk away now.

He would stand by his Warden until the last, even though he knew doing so would destroy him.

Fancy that. It seemed that he had come to Ferelden to die after all.