Taliesen's fingers curled around Zevran's collar, tightened around the leather hems until the man's knuckles went white. "What the fuck," he hissed, "do you think you're doing?"
Zevran looked up at the darkening, sweat-gleaming face and those wide brown eyes watching him like he was about to turn to sand. There was something terribly arousing about the intentness of the stare he was being fixed with, but the message never went any further south than the edge of his mind. Not even a sped-up heartbeat. There was nothing at all.
No words came to mind, and Zevran doubted he even possessed the wherewithal to scold himself for not bothering to look for any. He drew his leaden shoulders up in a half-shrug.
"What d'you mean, 'you don't know?'" Taliesen barked. "You stood there staring like an idiot as the guard was about to cut your throat open! I nearly caught a knife to the kidney covering for you!" He twisted around, and the slice in his leathers opened like a mouth.
Something like that may well have happened. It was hard to argue one way or the other when thoughts, or even basic emotions that summoned memories, refused to stick. There was nothing to be done.
Zevran watched Taliesen's display with numbed fascination and shook his head. "I did not ask you to save me, Taliesen."
"Don't give me that shit." A long, stiff finger jabbed into Zevran's chest. "This is the third time you've done this. You have no idea how lucky you are that I've stuck around."
He shrugged again. "Go, then. I did not ask you–"'
"You fucking imbecile!" Taliesen shouted, renewing his grip on Zevran's collar and shaking him violently. "She's dead! Rinna is dead! We'll have to get the master contract without her, and that's all there is to it."
He dipped his head down and rubbed their foreheads together. "You need to get a grip, Zev," he whispered. The closeness made Zevran's stomach lurch; he pulled his head away.
Taliesen's grip loosened, and in the corner of Zevran's eye, he caught hurt flashing ever-so-briefly over his lover's face.
Taliesen sighed and rubbed his brow. "Look, just…" he shook his head and gestured at the bedroom door. "Let's get out of here. These noble estates make my skin crawl."
Zevran couldn't feel his body moving as he followed him out. There was no sensation of feet landing on marble, no lurch of momentum to prove to himself he was even here at this moment. Unable to shake the idea he wasn't already dead, he glanced in the gilded, floor-length mirror as he passed it, and with the way that waxy, empty face stared back at him, being dead suddenly seemed very possible.
§
Crestwood looked like the sort of place that would only attract the most avid fanciers of mould and moss. It was overgrown, cold as charity, and the rainclouds (no doubt a permanent or semi-permanent fixture here) were thick enough that the lunchtime sky looked like nightfall was approaching.
Quite predictably, the locals seemed not to notice the baleful, chilly swelter of an impending downpour, and bustled blithely in the small market square as though it were the clearest, warmest day on record. Zevran couldn't decide if it was better to laugh at them or weep for them.
But it was the shrill voice of the peanut vendor cutting through the din that pulled a soft, delighted gasp from Rhodri, sending Zevran's stomach leaping. He pre-empted her search by nudging her and directed her to the stall. The Warden's eyes, moon-like in her frighteningly gaunt face, gleamed for the first time in weeks.
"Oh-h-h," she breathed in a voice better suited to amorous newlyweds. "Peanuts."
It was the only interest she had shown in eating since the day they returned from dispatching Greagoir, and that was nearly two weeks ago now. Zevran ignored the anxious twinge in his guts at the prospect of her losing any more flesh and flashed his most winning smile.
"Buy us some, my lovely Warden," he crooned. "A bag for you, and a bag for me. I cannot stand to eat finger foods alone."
She nodded fervently. "Yes. Of course. Peanuts…"
They bustled– or rather, she bustled and he matched her speed– over to the merchant.
"Goomorningmadam," she blathered, and steadied herself with a breath. "Two bags of peanuts, please."
The woman eyed the Warden warily, but leapt into action upon seeing the proffered sovereign. Rhodri huffed a wobbly, excited breath, rocking on her feet like she was being paid to do it. Zevran talked over the swell in his chest as he grandly upped the order to four– no, six bags.
They strolled back to the party, each clutching half of the payload. Rhodri had already opened one of the bags and made a handful of peanuts disappear.
A wide-eyed Alistair pointed at her. "You're eating! And not gagging!"
Rhodri nodded and mumbled through another mouthful, "I love peanuts. My mother and father would tell me I was the cheapest child in the world to feed because it was the only thing I asked for."
Zevran shot Alistair a broad grin. "We made sure to pick up plenty of peanuts for later."
In the absence of a glare from the Templar (had he forgotten how to do it?) Zevran couldn't help but smile wider at that, and he made the executive decision that Crestwood wasn't entirely awful. Not when there was such an impressive peanut trade.
§
Zevran was about to slip his poisons belt off when a knock came to the door of his room. Thanks to the generosity of the innkeeper (and the extremely slow day, Zevran presumed), everyone had a place to themselves on the proviso that everything was shipshape upon departure.
At times like this, it might have been better to share with someone when one was in a small space alone, with no real idea who was on the other side of the door. Jeppe, for example, would either buy Zevran a little time in the event a Crow came calling, or ward them off with his miasmic stench.
That was by the by at this point, though. Zevran accepted his solitude and the consequences thereof with a wry grin and called out, "Hmm?"
"Hello, Zev? It's Rhodri. I can come back another time if you–"
Zevran was already at the door, opening it. He hadn't moved to it hastily per se– though even if he had, what was the issue? It didn't do to keep his protector waiting.
Rhodri stood in the hallway with two bags of peanuts, watching his shoulder with a tentative smile. In the handful of minutes since she had started eating the peanuts, the pallid look to her skin was already starting to disappear. Zevran smiled broadly and waggled his eyebrows at her.
"You look ready for a feast, there, my Warden," he purred, pointing at the bags with his nose.
Rhodri's smile grew more decisive. She nodded once.
"Yes. It could be a feast for two, if you have a moment? There's something I was hoping to discuss with you." Her eyes widened as though he'd given her something to widen them about. "Ah! Only if you like, of course. I can leave it for later." She nodded quickly. "Whatever you like."
"Mmm! My lovely Grey Warden is whisking me away to feed me peanuts?" Zevran chuckled. "I am living a dream."
Rhodri shrugged. "I can feed them to you if you like. Is that an Antivan custom?"
He wavered between a hum and a laugh. "Truly, I was only joking, but if there is such a custom, it belongs to a group I know nothing of. Perhaps the very wealthy?"
"Oh." A laugh, the first one in weeks, huffed out of her in a single breath like she had forgotten how to stagger it. Zevran's chest swelled anyway– and why not? There was no sin in enjoying another's mirth.
"I took that seriously for a moment, you know," she admitted. "Thinking I'd have to find a palm frond to fan you with to complete the look."
Zevran snorted. "A fan in this weather? We should try and lure the Archdemon somewhere hotter first, perhaps." He gestured at the peanuts. "But assuming we forgo the fanning and feeding, simply eating peanuts together? Why not."
Rhodri glanced around furtively and ducked her head down to eye level with him. Zevran leaned in.
"Let's eat them on the roof," she whispered. "I climbed out my window and up the nearby ledge. What do you think?"
He snickered conspiratorially. "Ooh! I would never have guessed there was such a rebellious streak under that innocent facade! Lead the way, my dear!"
Her deeply bemused look notwithstanding, Rhodri guided him to her room and out the window, handing him his own bag of peanuts when they were comfortably seated on the roofing tiles. The clouds, thick and grey as they were, hadn't produced a single drop of rain, and the air had lost the buzz that preceded a downpour. It was clear, clear, clear, all the way down past the lush, emerald fens to the crumbling fjord.
"Not the worst view for a backwater," Zevran said with a smirk.
Rhodri snorted. "Mmm. Home's far superior, but this will do for the interim."
"Oh? Tevinter must be positively ravishing if you've been spoiled with standards like these."
"Hah. You'll see for yourself, if you come back with me." Rhodri paused and poked a couple of peanuts into her mouth. "Actually, that was what I was hoping to talk to you about."
Zevran made an interested hum in the middle of his own mouthful (notably administered by himself and not the Warden). "Please, go ahead."
Rhodri gave an appreciative nod. "Well, here's the thing. I probably didn't make it clear when I brought this up, but you'll never have to work a day in your life in Minrathous– ah! If you decide to come, of course. You need not if you don't want to, but–" she shook her head. "Argh!
"Anyway, the point is that we have more than enough money to support you spending your days however you please, whether it's pursuing personal interests, academia, or something else again!" The fingers of the hand not holding her peanuts wrung themselves. "Do you know what you might want to do? I can arrange anything you like!"
"Hmm!" Zevran chuckled, his mind ebbing into the most inconvenient blankness. "Anything, you say?"
She nodded fervently. "Anything at all!" Her crossed legs shifted up and down like beating wings. "As many things as you want!"
"Well now, let's see…" Zevran threw a peanut into the air, caught it in his mouth, and chewed it up. "The only thing I have any professional talent for is assassinating. I could go into business, I suppose– for myself this time, not the Crows."
Rhodri peered at him worriedly. "You don't have to work any more, though," she insisted gently. "Especially not as an assassin."
He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? It is not the worst job, surely. You are respected, you are feared… the authorities overlook your tresspasses. And, you know, someone will always need killing, so it is not as though I will want for work."
"Hah." Rhodri smiled and shook her head. "As though a Magister's heir doesn't know about the job prospects for an assassin."
Zevran smirked. "See? I could even be your personal assassin. I can give you a very good discount. Oh, think of the adventures we could have, my Grey Warden, you and me in Minrathous!"
"Mm? You don't need to be my personal anything and we could have adventures together."
"But I like the job just fine," he said, half-jokingly. "Honestly, could you see me doing something else?"
The Warden shrugged and nodded. "I could see you doing a lot of things."
He shrugged back. "I am content enough to do what I am good at."
"That means you're content enough to do a lot of things, then," Rhodri grinned.
Zevran snorted. "Oh? Go on, then. Tell me what you could see me doing, my lovely Warden."
The Warden ate another handful of peanuts and leaned back on her elbows. "Well, let's see. I know you play the mandolin, so you could do that. My mother sings beautifully, so if you felt like collaborating, I'm sure she'd enjoy a duet with you now and then." She rubbed her chin. "You're clever, so I think you could be a great reader. We have an enormous library and can get more of any book you think you'd like. You dance, and so do I!" Rhodri beamed. "I could teach you traditional Tevinter dance, even! And you can show me some Antivan styles!"
He chuckled. "I do not suppose I could make a career out of any of those things, my Grey Warden."
"But that's the point. You don't need to have a career any more. You can just…" she shrugged, "do as you please, sic?"
"Mmm? And how would that benefit your fine house?" he asked wryly.
"I… what?"
"Your house," he repeated. "I am not sure what it stands to gain from my pursuit of idle pleasures. Takes more than that to run an illustrious home, no?"
"Ah…" Rhodri blinked and looked away, rubbing a hand on her neck. "Goodness, I don't know why you think you'd need to do anything to keep it afloat. The only people responsible for that are my grandmother, my father, and myself." She waved a hand. "Everyone else can do whatever they like, so long as it's not terribly scandalous or immoral."
Zevran raised an eyebrow. "I am not sure how well Tevinter society would take an unrelated elven fugitive whoreson living in a Magister's home, my dear," he said delicately. "Certainly not when his time there is spent in a leisurely fashion at the household's expense."
The Warden sat up straight, her chest puffing like he had insulted her, and Zevran found himself curiously wavering between amusement and concern.
She spoke stoutly, "If anyone had any issue with you, I would see to them personally. You wouldn't hear that from any of the family, and if it came from someone else, they'd never be welcome under my roof again. You'll do as you please, and that's the end of it." Her eyes widened. "Ah! Only if you want to, of course!"
He chuckled. His stomach was already jittering; why not make use of it? "I can do what I please, so long as I wish to do what I please, is it?"
A long laugh hissed through Rhodri's teeth and crumpled her into a slouch. She delivered one of those ineffectual nudges and ate another mouthful of peanuts. "You know what I mean. Though," she paused to take more peanuts, "if you want a career, nothing's stopping you. You could be an academic, or make a business of your own– well, you could do anything you liked, really. Nothing's stopping you."
Zevran took a peanut and threw it into his mouth. "I could grow peanuts for you."
He really needed to invent a specific expression to make when he was joking. Rhodri paused mid-mouthful, her huge, darkening eyes fixed on him like he was the last man alive. Had he forgotten their topic of conversation, it would have been easy to presume she was well past the point of mentally undressing him. Was this how the frittata had felt when she looked at it?
"Well now," he purred (albeit carefully; he had no plans on being the lech Alistair accused him of being). "I was only joking–"
"Oh, bugger!" She mashed a hand into her face and chuckled.
He snorted. "Though with the look you were giving me, I may have to consider it."
Rhodri arched an eyebrow playfully. "No, please, pursue whatever you wish. I'll find a peanut grower out there somewhere. If it's a career you want, though, I'd like to at least suggest something for your consideration."
Zevran took a small handful of peanuts and ate them quickly, and didn't know why. "Oh?"
"I… realised just now that I must have sounded like I think little of assassins," she said slowly. "I don't enjoy killing, myself, but I don't think any less of you because you were one. Especially because you don't pursue it for pleasure, or carry it out in a cruel way."
His shoulders loosened unexpectedly at that, and he embraced the distraction of noticing that her remarks, welcome though they were, didn't constitute a suggestion. He opted to give a patient, attentive nod.
She ate another handful of peanuts. "But you didn't have much choice in the matter, which you've said yourself a few times, and the conditions were awful." Rhodri tipped her head to one side and watched him like she was studying him. "It seems like the Crows kept your world very, very small."
That was impressively rich talk for someone who had spent the last decade-and-some in a tower with a smaller floorspace than the average noble's estate. Zevran chuckled in spite of himself.
"Mm? How small is a world that is laden with daring pursuits, wine, and ravishing beauties?" He waggled his eyebrows. "I even had enough free time to take up the mandolin, and learn a little tattooing."
Rhodri shrugged. "A few hours a week of leisure isn't going to remedy a lifetime of being forced to live as an enslaved assassin. My suggestion, if I can make it…?"
Zevran shrugged and nodded.
"Thank you. I would suggest at least trying a few different things first. Hobbies, studies, work, anything. You have the freedom to do that now, and there's no reason you can't go back to being an assassin later, if you miss it enough."
She leaned closer, watching him with a confident smile now. Her voice dropped to a warm murmur. "Remember, pretiotus. Anything you want, I can make it happen for you," she snapped her fingers, "like that. It would honour me greatly to fulfil your every wish."
One of two things was evident: Either the Warden's nerve-jangling remarks were increasing in their discomfit quotient over the last months, or they were always this horrific and Zevran was, despite frequent exposure, permanently unable to digest them.
Or she was flirting with him. After all, she had become something of a closer talker these days, and who called anyone 'precious one' without wanting to get them into bed? And fulfilling one's every wish? For goodness' sake.
Perhaps she liked sex as a means of coping with grief! Now there was a thought! Had the perennially woo-less Alistair considered that? It was doubtful. Zevran decided not to discount it.
He smirked gently. "My every wish, you say?"
The Warden's smile broadened, almost conspiratorially. "Whatever your heart desires."
"Oh-ho-ho," Zevran chortled. "Then I had better make some plans, hadn't I?"
Her eyes widened. "So… you'll come with me? To Minrathous, that is?"
Why the Warden looked like he had just found the cure to lyrium affliction was beyond him, and there was absolutely no need for the air to stall in his throat. It was the next step– the only step, assuming they survived the Blight. It was a plan, a strategy. It was nothing but good sense to say–
"Well, now! I certainly have no burning urge to turn down such a generous offer." Zevran waggled his brows. "So long as the invitation remains, I will gladly go."
Her mouth fell open. "I–! Yes! Yes, it's permanent. Oh… great!"
As far as was possible from a seated position, Rhodri bounced, her hands pattering her thighs at a near-blur. Zevran smiled. And why not? If she was pleased to keep him alive, so much the better. In fact, being the victory that it was, he could smile as widely as he pleased, and he did.
Rhodri stopped abruptly mid-movement, as she had done ever since Wynne joined the party. Her body stiffened, head dipping down as a shamefaced scarlet blush poured into her cheeks.
Clearing her throat, she straightened up. "Ah… anyway," she shook her head, "if you think of something, let me know and I'll… ah… arrange it, sic?"
Somewhere, in the back of Zevran's head, lurked the vague outline of a plan to cause gross inconvenience and exasperation to Wynne. In the here and now, however, there was a fully-formed urge to fuel the distraction (and move on from the topic, if he could wangle it).
Zevran pursed his lips almost exaggeratedly. "Mmm. This is a new path I'm on. All sorts of new options, no? I shall have to think carefully and bring you some answers." He tossed a peanut into his mouth, and then took another and held it up near Rhodri, almost patting himself on the back for the timely segue. "Can you catch peanuts, my Warden?"
Rhodri frowned at the peanut bag, the redness already disappearing. "I… haven't ever tried."
She took one and threw it up in the air, and Zevran watched in a muted half-amusement half-dread as the peanut hit the Warden in the eye and, following a spate of frantic swats and curses, bounced down the roof tiles and into the drain.
"Oh," she groaned, rubbing her eye. "They're salted."
A snort tore out of Zevran before he could help it, and he rapidly followed it up with an apology, picking another peanut from the bag when he could get her to look his way again.
"Open your mouth," he lined up the peanut, "And keep still, no? I shall make it come to you." A simple, easy flick of the wrist sent it sailing straight between her teeth, and he smiled triumphantly. "Ah, see? You could catch peanuts for Minrathous."
Rhodri chuckled and wiped her left, slightly watery eye, crunching up the peanut. "Shame I didn't know I had that talent back at the Circle. 'National-level peanut catcher' would have looked good on the curriculum vitae the Minrathous Circle had me submit."
He chortled and readied another peanut. "If only. Shall we keep practicing?"
She grinned and nodded, grabbing a handful of nuts from her own bag. "I'm ready."
How clever of him, Zevran decided as they sat and threw salted peanuts into each other's mouths, to keep Rhodri (no, the Warden! The Warden!) both well-nourished and in good humour with such a simple game. Better still, how smart of him to make it so that he enjoyed it as well. A greater enjoyment of a task improved one's performance. That was a well-known fact.
How efficient, he decided, how indisputably clever of him to enjoy her enjoyment.