At some point on the road to Denerim– Zevran wasn't sure when, precisely– Alistair and Leliana had both become aware of the other's lingering gazes, namely by catching each other in the act.
Whether this event marked an improvement or a turn for the worse was difficult to know. On the one hand, their maddening mutual obliviousness had finally been smothered to death, but crawling out of that very same grave was an entirely new, rather more revolting beast: locked, smouldering eyes and tentative hand-holding.
They did it constantly, and it was dreadful. It should have been illegal. It was among the most powerful emetics in existence, a sentiment– no, a truth , that was shared by Morrigan, who looked physically pained every time she caught them doing it.
Wynne, who had found a favourite (and quite possibly an adoptive grandson) in Alistair, watched all this with muted glee and whenever Leliana was absent, offered him sugary courting advice that made Zevran want to tear his testicles off and stuff them in his ears.
Rhodri, both astonishingly and predictably enough, had been impervious to the blossoming affection between the two– or at least to the nature of said affection. It took Wynne using the lunch break to mortify Alistair with gentle teasing on his lovelorn expression and the general romance of it all before Rhodri finally, violently caught on.
"Wh-? Oh!" Her sandwich fell out of her hands, and Zevran impressed even himself as he shot a hand out and caught it before it could land in the grass. "I– ah, thank you, Zev. Very good catch." She took a bite of the sandwich and frowned at Alistair. "Are you and Leliana together? Romantically?"
Alistair's face turned a shade of red Zevran had once doubted to be physically possible. He pawed at his winy cheeks and mumbled something about 'well, maybe, we'll see.'
Rhodri leaned toward Zevran and said out of the corner of her mouth, "My stars, Zev, I had no idea. Did you?"
He swallowed down a sob of laughter and nodded. "I had my suspicions," he said carefully.
Leliana, who had gone with Sten to refill her waterskin, now approached and took her usual spot at Alistair's right. The two shared another stomach-turning look, and Rhodri gave an approving nod.
"Well, isn't that just great!" Her sandwich-free hand tapped her knee until a look from Wynne stopped it. Rhodri cleared her throat. "So, ah, when's the wedding, then, you two? Have you decided?"
Alistair and Leliana's soft, shy smiles froze.
"The…?" Alistair attempted.
"The wedding, yes," Rhodri nodded. "Will you wait until after the Blight to have a larger celebration, or should we just stop by the next Chantry? Certainly, we can spare a day or two along the way and make it an occasion to remember!"
There was something deeply, powerfully gratifying about watching Alistair visibly go through roughly the same horrors Zevran recognised in himself when he was subjected to this sort of talk. He had a little more sympathy for Leliana, who looked like she was about to die from the shock of it all, but his fellow-feeling could only stretch so far when he was the recipient of the vast majority of such awkwardness.
"The…? Ah…" Alistair closed his mouth, opened it, and closed it again. And then he turned to Leliana, who was returning his gaze, and both of them sported the most delicious panicked look. Who knew this quality of juicy social misery was available outside of Antiva?
Rhodri, who had been observing their distress with a small frown, suddenly brightened as unexplained comprehension appeared to dawn on her. Her sharkmouth pulled into a huge, one-directionally conspiratorial smile, and she held up a hand.
"Ah, now I know what you're thinking," she nodded sagely. "Who marries for love, sic? But don't discount it! My mother and father married for love. Everyone said it would fail, and yet there they are, twenty-one years on, and they still get along!"
Rhodri beamed and, appearing to mistake Alistair, Leliana, and Wynne's collective gaping for a display of awe, nodded again. "That could be you, too! Worth a try, certainly, and if it turns out you don't really like each other like that, well." she shrugged. "You can have an affair and stay platonic."
Zevran covered his mouth and nose with one hand. There was no other option; a physical barrier had become necessary to keep the mirth in now, especially as the silence would make any such display perfectly audible.
Alistair looked over at Leliana again. "I don't know where to begin with this," he said to her numbly.
"Well, start by choosing a date," Rhodri piped up, only to stop as Alistair shook his head.
"Marriage… is not something we have discussed, Rhodri," Leliana said, watching Alistair carefully as she spoke. He nodded supportively.
Rhodri's grin faltered. "Oh, really? But you're good friends, and you've known each other a while–"
"We've known each other for a few months!" Alistair spluttered.
She nodded. "Yes, exactly! That's plenty of time. You obviously get along well, and it's better to be married to someone you like than someone you don't."
"Fereldan marriages… tend not to work this way," Leliana added delicately. "We do not marry people we dislike, and affairs are frowned upon, no?"
"Look," Alistair held up his hands quickly as a baffle-faced Rhodri went to speak, presumably to express her astonishment that affairs were neither universally expected nor accepted. "If there's a wedding date to be set, we'll let you know straight away. For now, we're just… seeing how we like it."
Leliana nodded and rested a hand– rather heavily– on Alistair's knee. Once Alistair was able to see through his blush, he took her hand in his and they shared a smile that made Zevran's skin crawl. Zevran could have sobbed with relief as Rhodri sighed and nodded as though this was something one had to come to terms with.
"Well," she said after a moment, "it's your choice. I hope it works out for the best, whatever you decide." Her face suddenly brightened, "And this gives me more time to plan an excellent wedding gift– you know, just in case." Rhodri (Rhodri!) made the most enormous wink at them, and Zevran blessed the Maker as Alistair and Leliana unmired themselves from their red-faced, mortified writhing enough to nod appreciatively at her.
Unable to help himself, he caught the Warden's eye and waggled his eyebrows at her in a show of solidarity he couldn't quite explain, and grinned through his chuckle as she returned the gesture with twice the intensity. Alarm threatened to push into the forefront of his mind, and as if to assure it that he was suffering enough, he stole another glance at the revoltingly tender new couple. The concern backed away; it was enough.
§
On every visit, Denerim had managed to be both everything and nothing Zevran had expected it to be. Antiva City, the vibrant, beating heart of his country, had apparently spoiled him, allowing him to furnish the belief that all nations sported a similarly grand capital. This place didn't come within a bull's roar of home, and there was not one iota of bias in that judgement. Denerim was, quite simply, a modest place with a great deal to be modest about.
Its houses were dilapidated. The sodden, muddy market square in the middle of the revolting sprawl was no doubt the delight of every dog in the area. Even the Chantry and castle, two structures that invariably received far more attention and money than any other of a city's edifices, looked primitive.
Given most everything else he had seen of Ferelden, though, it would have been foolish to have high, or even moderate hopes of anything lovely, and as a result, the backwater this country called a capital city had very adequately met his low expectations.
The party's first day there had been spent traipsing about in search of one Brother Ferdinand Genitivi, a scholar who Bann Teagan had assured them would have all the information there was to be had on the Urn of Sacred Ashes. The ramshackle rowhouses that lined the boggy roads all looked the same: wooden, falling apart, all either light brown or a queasy off-white, and for the longest time, Zevran was convinced they had been going in circles. Apparently, though, they had traversed a fair way, eventually stumbling upon the place, which thankfully was by a shop, the Wonders of Thedas- at least the sign hanging off the eave would be some sort of landmark if they had to return.
And of course, as was providence's wont, the Brother was nowhere to be found. According to Rhodri (who had emerged from Genitivi's house with a slightly clenched jaw), his assistant, a mousy young man named Weylon, lamented that Genitivi had disappeared without a trace. The last sighting, so said the assistant, had been somewhere by Lake Calenhad some months ago.
For all its manifold flaws, nobody except Morrigan seemed keen on departing Denerim immediately; it was a long way from anywhere else in Ferelden they needed to be. It was (almost) unanimously decided that the party would spend a few days in the would-be city to replenish their supplies. Well, that was presumably what they were there for; they couldn't possibly have come to sightsee.
The rest of day one had passed well enough. The benefit of a capital city was always in its relatively high level of imported goods, and their first night, holed up in the Gnawed Noble Tavern, marked the first time in months that Zevran had even seen Antivan brandy, let alone drunk any. So delighted was he that he had four-- two more than he usually allowed himself-- and after passing the night playing rounds of Diamondback with the Warden and company in a pleasantly squiffy state, he took himself off to his shared room with Sten for the best sleep he'd had since coming to Ferelden.
By the time he had awoken the next day, it was well after lunch time, and the only person still in the Tavern at that point was Morrigan, curled up by the fire and engrossed in a book. Zevran knew better than to disturb her with questions of the others' whereabouts; he had seen her transform into a spider with his own eyes only a week prior, and was particularly keen to either get in her good books, or failing that, to not feature in any of her books at all.
Though Denerim had little to recommend itself in terms of local attractions, Zevran was reasonably sure that the brothel would at least be somewhat similar to the Antivan ones. With a month's wages on him and the desire to have at least one orgasm this month, it seemed the obvious place to part with his money.
With the help of the hand-drawn map supplied by one of the elven servants at the Tavern, he eventually managed to track down The Pearl. As he stepped inside, he was pleased to find that his guess was not wrong: from its heady smell of mingled bodily juices, perfume, and fresh perspiration; the soft groans that the alcohol-sipping patrons seemed inured to, right down to the plush velvet curtains blocking out prying eyes from the street, it was as if he had paid a visit to his childhood years. Whoever said you could never go home again had grown up in the wrong place.
But where to begin?
Waltzing into the taproom, Zevran cast his eye around in search of a free seat and caught sight of a most unexpected individual at a nearby table. A busty, bejewelled, leather-clad individual he had called a friend for many years and had presumed to be at sea-- incorrectly, apparently.
Her pretty, dark face was flushing a very entertaining shade, with her teeth very firmly biting her lip. Ooh, if people could purr, she would have been as the pale, black-haired somebody beside her borrowed her ear with their mouth, their fingers running up her neck to cradle her jaw. Their face was obscured, but when he looked closer and saw a wraparound snake earring--
Isabela's eyes fell on Zevran, catching him standing there like a fool, and she let out a small squeak of surprise. The head resting against hers immediately pulled away and turned around, and Zevran quickly slapped on a smile to cover his unreasonably delayed shock at the grey eyes that met his. Clueless, naive Rhodri had to be among the last people one would expect to see at a brothel– especially talking Isabela into a giggling mess.
More to the point, why was Rhodri even at a brothel in the first place? Had she only mentioned that she was interested in a little company, Zevran would have gladly offered, indulged his own curiosity (and no doubt hers), and saved a sovereign between them to boot. Had she still not understood he was available?
Ah, but good for her, really. She was pursuing her fancies as she desired-- and rightly so. Perhaps now that they had run into each other here, she might even consider him as a potential candidate in the future. Luck was funny like that.
Mmm, and Rhodri was blushing, too! Whether it was because of embarrassment or arousal was a mystery. If she was embarrassed, though, it was short-lived. She shot him a smile before quickly turning to Isabela and speaking to her. Isabela gaped at her and nodded, and Rhodri, looking very pleased indeed, waved Zevran over to them.
His stomach jittered as he approached them; Isabela was looking between them now, smirking like Satinalia had come early. Rhodri reached over the table to push a chair out for him.
"So you have met the Queen of the Eastern Seas and the sharpest blade in Llomerryn, I see, my Grey Warden," Zevran said with a smile, gesturing at Isabela as he sat down.
"You forgot 'your favourite pirate wench,' you mean bastard," Isabela returned, giving him a friendly shove in the arm. Grinning, Zevran let his body be pushed back a fraction before he straightened up.
"My apologies, Isabela. Dear Warden, she is all three of those things, and I am a horrible man for forgetting it."
Rhodri snorted. "You two sound like you know each other well."
"Oh, we know each other very well," Isabela nodded, smirking and eyeing him with unabashed lust.
It was hard not to sigh with relief as Rhodri, who had miraculously picked up on the cue, nodded and gave a small, 'ah.' Mother of Mercy, she even had a small smile. Never mind hoping for a chance on the road, it was happening today!
Small talk first, bedding soon after. Does Isabela still have those silk ties in her quarters?
"We have crossed paths many times over..." Zevran pursed his lips as he counted on his fingers. "Eight years? Has it been eight?"
"Something like that." Isabela waved his calculations away; she never was one for numbers and, realistically, neither was he. "Long enough to know he's very bendy," she added to Rhodri pointedly.
Rhodri nodded. "Mmm, I noticed that. I've never seen anyone look like they're dancing as they behead something. Ah! Spectacular." She beamed at Zevran. "You're a true showman, Zev."
There didn't seem to be any sultriness to that proud look she had; Zevran had to work industriously to stop a squint from pinching his eyes. Before anyone could say anything else, the Warden shocked them both and got to her feet.
Not that Rhodri seemed to notice, still smiling as she spoke again. "I think I'll leave you two to catch up."
"Wh-- you're leaving?" Isabela exclaimed. "But the sex!"
Sadness touched the Warden's smile for a moment. "The chance to spend time with friends is a rare gift, especially at a time like this. Please don't pass it up." She straightened her shoulders and jerked her head in the direction of the madam of the brothel. "Besides, I should speak to Madam Sanga."
Rhodri put a hand on Isabela's shoulder in a gesture Zevran was sure would make Isabela freeze, as anything not laced with a little humour or offhandedness tended to do.
"It was lovely to meet you, Isabela," she said warmly. "Please take care of yourself, and think on what I said about docking in Kirkwall. You'd like the Hanged Man, if it's still there, and who knows? You may even run into my aunt and cousins there. I'll see you around, Zev."
With a wave to both of them, she wandered away to Sanga, who looked pleased to speak with her. The two fell into a gentle stroll toward another hallway, conversing as Rhodri indicated one of the windows.
"Well, that didn't go as I'd planned," Isabela sulked, blowing an errant lock of hair out of her face. "And I was just about to take her back to my cabin, too." She raised a brow at Zevran. "You'd better make up for it."
Zevran smirked, taking her glass of wine and sipping from it. "Now, when have I ever been a disappointment?"
"Any time I tied you up and shoved my finger in your arse, you smug git," she retorted before leaning in and pointing at the hall Rhodri had disappeared down. "Do you know how often I get to be fucked by a mage? You usually have to pay triple for that, and she was going to do me for free! And here you are, travelling with her? Incredible." She shook her head. "Well, go ahead and rub it in my face. How good is she?"
He shrugged and looked away. "I do not know."
Isabela made a small noise of astonishment. "You haven't--? What's wrong with you? I was almost ready to have her on the bloody table after she told me what she wanted to do with me."
Zevran could barely conceal a squint. Were they talking about the same person? She certainly had enough of a libido for it to be believable; the soft curses and gasps his neighbour made in the mornings and evenings were ample proof of that. But Rhodri, seductive? Or, more to the point, even open to seduction?
Isabela had apparently caught his disbelief, and an irritating compassion softened her features.
"Oh, I see! You have tried!" She patted his hand sympathetically. "Probably just aren't girly enough, sweetheart. Shame, she's a good-looking one. But not to worry, I know something we can do to help you forget about it."
But of course! Rhodri does not care for men. Ah, that is a shame. He ignored the disappointed pang thudding in his chest as he smiled and waggled his brows at Isabela. "You insatiable woman. Lead the way, then, my dear."
They rose to their feet. Zevran kept a pace or two behind Isabela as they walked, an old protective habit forged in a time before she was decent with a blade-- and an admittedly hard-dying habit when Isabela purposely kept her gait sultry to show off her lush, round posterior to him.
They were about to turn onto the hallway leading out of the establishment when Isabela suddenly stopped him and pointed with her head. He followed her gaze and saw Rhodri standing outside a doorway, talking with a handsome redheaded elven man, a tall, muscular human man, and two other ample individuals. The five of them shared a nod, upon which the tall man pulled her into a rough kiss.
"Maybe I was wrong," Isabela chuckled as Rhodri took his face in her hands and after briefly kissing back, moved her head away, her slightly slackened jaw and openly lustful stare plain to see even from where an astonished and frankly aroused Zevran stood with Isabela. Rhodri placed a hand in the middle of the man's chest and steered him backwards through the open door, the other three smirking at each other as they followed them in.
"You bastard, Zev," Isabela murmured to him as the door closed. "That could have been me."
"I'll make it up to you," he muttered back, untucking his shirt to cover his erection. "Let's get out of here."
§
Sex with Isabela was always enjoyable, and over the years as their paths continued to cross, familiarity had made it even better. Zevran knew her right nipple was far more sensitive than her left one, and thus an easier target if she wanted to finish quickly. Her legs always tried to cross when she was close, and letting them shut around his hand while he teased her made her scream like a demon. Familiar, but never boring.
"I see you've improved again," Isabela said breathlessly from beside him, reaching out a shaky hand and clapping him on the shoulder.
"Practice makes perfect," he panted back, the aftershocks from their coupling still pinging through him.
"It wasn't a five-way, I grant you. But you did the work of three, and I can't fault you there at all."
Zevran huffed a laugh and acknowledged the satisfactory feedback with a flick of his eyebrows.
Isabela slowly got up and out of bed, picking up his shirt from the floor and throwing it to him as she scanned the room.
"Where are my…? Ah!" She bent down again and straightened up, triumphantly waving her underwear at him before putting them on. "So how did you and the mage end up meeting, anyway?"
Zevran chuckled. "An unsuccessful assassination attempt."
She paused in slipping on her thigh-high boots. "That's not like you. I didn't think the word fail was even in your vocabulary."
"Rhodri is quite a bit more powerful than she lets on," was his half-attempt at an explanation while he tugged his shirt over his head.
Isabela cackled at that. "She was your mark? Well, that explains a lot."
"Oh? Did my Warden show off for you today?" He mindlessly tied the back laces of her corset as she turned her back to him.
"You could say that. She cleared out a gang that was giving Sanga trouble around the same time as I was caught in a little scuffle of my own. Not half bad with that staff."
That was as close to a compliment as Isabela got. He agreed with a hum as he continued to dress, retrieving his breeches and smalls from the far corner of the room.
"Can't read flirts for shit, though."
He snorted and nodded. That sounded more like the Rhodri he knew. "And so what magic words did you use to tempt her into your bed, hmm?"
"Hm-hmm! Going to give it another shot, are you?"
Zevran shrugged, perhaps a little too off-handedly. "Simply to make her aware I am available. It may mean I save her a handful of silvers the next time we are near a whorehouse."
Isabela shrieked with laughter. "Ha! Saint Zevran, patron of the frugal and oversexed! Ah, do you know what? She's easier to talk to than you think. Don't glare at me like that, it's true!" She flicked a hand at him. "She clearly isn't discriminatory, so unless you've been a complete arse to her--"
"I haven't--" he began, only to have Isabela cut him off.
"Didn't think so. You know what I think your problem is? You're not clear enough."
He squinted at her. "Not clear enough?" he echoed. "I told her I hoped she slept naked the first day I met her!"
Isabela snorted. "Who haven't you said that to? I bet you've made saucy remarks to everyone in that group you're gadding about with. She probably thinks you're a flirty sort, and you're just speaking normally to her." Isabela shrugged, adding, "Not that she'd be wrong there."
"But I made a concerted effort with her!" Zevran protested. "How does anyone miss the difference between a casual remark and brazen, intentional dialogue?" He demonstratively brought his face inches away from Isabela's as he mentioned the latter, and Isabela nodded and rolled her eyes.
She took a finger to his forehead and pushed him away. "The bugger can't tell the difference between conversation and flirting, and you're wondering how she differentiates between flirts! Some master seducer you are!"
"None of my marks were quite this dense," he grumbled, more ruffled by Isabela's banter than he had expected.
"No, she's pretty damn stupid, I'll give you that. It took a few tries on my end to make it clear. Kept laughing it off. She caught on well enough when I made it clear that I meant what I said, though."
"What did you do?"
Isabela shrugged. "Put my hand on her thigh, told her I have a ship with very comfortable quarters, and that I wanted to take her back there so she could fuck me senseless."
"Ah," he said; Isabela never was one to mince words. "So I will need a boat."
She tsked and gave him a playful shove. "That's what I get for trying to help a friend. Come on, walk back with me to The Pearl so I can collect my crew."
"You are setting sail today?" He pulled on his boots and buckled his belt.
"Mmm." She peered out the door, scowling at the sky. "Heard it looks like bad weather all along the coast for the next few days, and I don't want to be stuck in this mousehole while I wait for it to clear up."
"A short run-in, then, but a good one all the same," Zevran acknowledged cheerfully as he followed her out.
A part of him had anticipated running into Rhodri again when he dropped Isabela back at the Pearl, but there was no sign of her, and he had lingered just enough to tip his friend off.
"Go on, get out of here," she frogmarched him a couple of steps towards the door. "Either she's still busy, or she's already left. If you want to win her over, you'd better hope it's the first one."
Zevran grinned and rolled his eyes, waving as he took his leave.
Isabela's advice swirled through his head the entire walk back to the Gnawed Noble, and even impinged on his thoughts as he played a few rounds of Wicked Grace with Leliana, Wynne, and Sten. The more it percolated, the better sense it made to give it a try. Isabela had made the foray and delivered the truth that the Warden did, in fact, respond well to the straightforward suggestion he had never quite been game to try.
But it made sense to at least offer his services. They were both attractive; she liked him, he liked her, and certainly he could have done a better job kissing her than the sloppy human who had claimed her mouth. Even the Southerners who made a living selling sex wouldn't be up to standard. Their backwards clientele knew nothing of the more exciting techniques, and with no standards of their own, the usual tumble would have more than sated them. No, a Northerner Warden needed Northern passion, and who better than him to give it to her?
And if she declined– which he would make it eminently clear that she could, with no hard feelings whatsoever, he would leave it at that. Simple. What was there to lose?
Said Northerner Warden reappeared at the doorway as everyone was about to start eating at the dining table. She caught sight of them and strolled over with a vague sway to her walk that was unreasonably arousing. Zevran tensed his legs to redirect the blood, and when he caught her eye, pointed his nose at the empty seat beside him at their table.
"There you are!" Alistair's loud voice carried easily to Rhodri, who was still some paces away. "Where have you been? Zevran told us you were busy, but it's dark outside now!"
Zevran bit his lip as Rhodri watched Alistair with a placid smile.
"I was at The Pearl," she replied casually, jerking her head over her shoulder in the direction of the door she had come through.
The Templar's fork fell onto his plate with a clatter, and Zevran permitted himself a moment to glance around the table and drink in the medley of baffled and mortified expressions the answer had evoked. Even Wynne, who was usually unflappable, had closed her eyes and was shaking her head. A brick-red Alistair frantically waved his hands in a shushing gesture (and appeared to be making a point of not looking at Leliana throughout).
Rhodri raised an eyebrow at him as she sat down beside Zevran. "Is this for me, Zev?" she asked quietly, pointing at the plate in front of her, piled high with turnip and mutton pie.
"It is indeed," he replied through a grin. "I had them serve a double portion for you."
His stomach threatened to escape via his throat as she gave him a soft, warm smile, and perhaps he shouldn't have done anything of the bloody sort when he knew perfectly well she would look at him like that–
"That's so kind of you," she murmured. "Thank you for thinking of me."
Brasca , and even her voice was warm. Never again. Never, ever again, but it was well to keep her happy, even if the whole bloody thing was awkward and it made the air swell in his chest. Not healthy at all, but he had done far worse things to secure a future than order food for someone.
A mercifully well-timed distraction was supplied by Alistair, who clearly had clearly not finished with Rhodri, and not even Leliana's patient hand on his shoulder seemed to calm him.
His voice was at a hiss now, "What were you doing at The Pearl anyw–"
"Alistair," Morrigan interrupted, watching him with a withering look. "Even you cannot be so dense, surely, as to wonder what people do there."
"To be fair," Rhodri said with her forkful of pie hovering near her mouth, "I didn't know what it was before I actually went there." She paused to eat it and set the fork down on her plate. "All that guard Kylon said to me was there was an establishment called The Pearl that had some troublemakers on site, and would I please clear them out."
Rhodri shrugged. "I was expecting to see fish and clams and things in this Pearl, but when I went inside?" She sliced a hand through the air. "Not an undersea creature to be seen. I thought they were all out the back somewhere, so I took care of the miscreants and asked the owner after to see the lobsters. But then you know, someone showed me their nipple, and that's when I realised it wasn't an aquarium after all."
Alistair could gasp and shush the now-pandemonious table as much as he liked, but with the way Leliana was watching him out of the corner of her eyes, Zevran knew for a fact that the Templar would benefit from this in some way or another.
And as for Zevran, he had finished the day with as much money as he had started out with, along with one rare Isabela encounter, two orgasms, and some key information that might well brighten the Warden's days– (and nights!) quite substantially. That had to be as close to the perfect day as possible.