Geese In Spring, Part V: Liberty [2/4]
anonymous
August 17 2010, 05:29:45 UTC
They walked in contented silence until they got out of earshot of the camp, close enough together that their hands occasionally brushed against each other. Zevran was pleased with the evening's course so far, but his companion seemed unusually quiet, his demeanor serious. After a while, the mage cleared his throat slightly to catch Zevran's attention, and the elf glanced at him sidelong as they walked.
"Zevran... there's something important I need to tell you before we leave." The mage's eyes were on the path in front of them, but Zevran wondered if he was truly seeing the terrain, or if his gaze was focused inward.
"Yes, cariño?" He had an inkling of what Devin meant to say, of course, but he let the man speak his mind, patient as only a hunter could be, waiting for a creature to break cover.
"I..." The mage took a slow, deep breath, and Zevran wondered at how very nervous he seemed. "I'm not one of the Wardens who've been recruited since the Archdemon was killed. I've been a Warden since the Blight, and I..." There was another long pause before he continued. "I'm the Warden Commander."
The confession was made with such... resignation, as if Devin had drawn no pride from his position, and bore only the heavy burdens of duty. Zevran considered for a moment how he should respond. If he admitted he had suspected as much, where would that lead?
He thought of the mage's inner walls and outer facades. The Warden Commander armored himself, even in the act of making love. What does that mean? That he didn't trust even those that he let get so close to him?
Ah, but Devin had mentioned, specifically, "the games of the court". He would have played amongst those seeking influence and power, then -- possibly through him, because of his position. And so, anyone showing an interest in him may only have been trying to use him, Zevran concluded. Small wonder he never told me before. He wanted someone to come to know him for himself. That decided it for him.
"The... the Warden Commander?" he said, affecting slack-jawed surprise. "The Hero of Ferelden?"
Devin grimaced at the title. "I suppose." He glanced at Zevran now, trying to gauge the hunter's reaction.
"I see." Zevran was silent for a moment, as if trying to digest that bit of information. "Well, that is certainly a good thing to tell me now, so I won't be so surprised when they throw flowers at your feet in Denerim, yes?" he said lightly, trying to show the Warden that it made no difference to him.
"Flowers at my feet?" Devin echoed incredulously. "I lost five Wardens -- three young Fereldan volunteers -- clearing out a single group of Darkspawn, Zevran. That's wretched, and they'll be spitting at me, more likely," he said darkly.
"Surely not, my dear Warden," Zevran said solemnly. "I doubt anyone in this land has forgotten the Blight, and the terror of the Darkspawn. Particularly in Denerim -- it was invaded, no? It's not as if you led your Wardens on a springtime lark. They gave their lives in combat to protect other Fereldans -- even those who came from Orlais. Greater prices were paid during the Blight, surely. And in this battle, you were victorious, do not forget that."
The words sounded somewhat familiar to Zevran as he spoke them, though he wasn't sure why; if they meant anything in particular to Devin, the mage gave him no clues, falling silent for a long while. The hunter didn't know if his words had lightened the other man's fears at all, or if somehow he'd made it worse. He decided to simply wait, though, trusting that Devin would speak once he'd collected his thoughts.
Finally, the mage sighed and stopped, turning to look at Zevran directly. "The fact remains that I may find a cold reception in Denerim, and if you are with me, you may be subjected to the same," he said quietly. "If... that changes anything..."
"It changes nothing," Zevran said firmly. He met the Warden's troubled look. "If we are unwelcome in Denerim, then we will leave the Wardens' effects and take ourselves elsewhere. Very simple." He hoped that his use of we would demonstrate that he had no intention of leaving the mage on his own.
Geese In Spring, Part V: Liberty [3/4]
anonymous
August 17 2010, 05:30:33 UTC
Devin did seem to understand, but he still looked into the hunter's eyes for a long moment, perhaps for some sort of confirmation. Zevran reached up and cupped the Warden's face in his hands, holding his gaze.
"It is as I said before, cariño; I care little where we are -- besides away from here." He gave the other man a little half-smile. "And I care not at all for what these people have to say about you. I know what I have seen of you, felt from you. If they find you unworthy of respect, then I find them the same."
That was the honest truth. He had seen Devin doggedly hanging on in that terrible battle, had watched him struggle with both his guilt and his injuries, and had seen firsthand how fragile the mage's trust in others was. If the man's peers could not respect him for these things, for the sacrifices he had made for the Grey Wardens and for Ferelden, then Zevran didn't think much of them.
Devin was still looking at him intently, almost as if wary for a trick. With a tsking sound, Zevran pulled the taller man down slightly for a brief kiss.
"No more of these doubts, my dear Warden. Did I not say I was difficult to escape?" he said softly as they broke apart. "I am coming with you, and we will deal with whatever situation we find in your capital, or we will leave."
The mage nodded, finally seeming to relax. Zevran allowed himself to grin, then, knowing that he'd not have to say it again -- not any time soon, anyway. "Now..." He stepped in close to Devin, one arm snaking around his waist. "I believe we had plans to attend to...?"
Geese In Spring, Part V: Liberty [4/4]
anonymous
August 17 2010, 05:33:31 UTC
Bit of a timeskip here.
A runner had been sent from the last town they stayed in before reaching Denerim; several hours out of the capital, they were met on the road by an escort of armored city guards. Devin wondered sardonically if they were more for show or defense; the two travelers needed neither, but he had to resign himself to the fact that this was how things would be in Denerim. At least someone had had the sense to bring black banners and Grey Warden regalia; now the wagon bore the proper sense of gravitas.
As they drove through the city, Zevran looked all around, smiling slightly (but not so much, Devin noted, that he would seem disrespectful) at the sounds and bustle of the market district. The undercurrent of excitement from the elf gave Devin a bit of cheer as they drew closer to the Royal Palace.
"I can smell the sea," Zevran remarked quietly, his eyes bright. "I had not realized how much I'd missed that scent."
"Mmm, the docks are clear across town from here, but I'm sure we can make a trip out that way, if not today, then tomorrow," the mage promised. "...If you want to, that is."
"I think the docks are probably among the most unpleasant parts of any city," the elf chuckled. "Seeing them up close is not truly necessary, but thank you. Unless there is some place on the waterfront that you would like to share, of course."
Devin considered the only establishment in the waterfront district he was well-acquainted with, the Pearl, and snorted in amusement. "Perhaps..."
Once they passed through the enormous gate onto the palace grounds proper, the mage began to steel himself for the inevitable onslaught of questions, accusations and demands. Alistair might be happy to see him at first, in the way a friend would be, but as soon as things got official...
A gentle nudge at his side made him turn to look at Zevran, who gave him a small, encouraging sort of smile. "You look like a stormcloud already, cariño," he said in an undertone. "If that is what you wish to present, so be it, but if not... do not let them rule you in this way, my dear Warden."
Devin felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as the elf's words -- and his care -- sank in. He was beginning to understand that no matter what happened here today and in the days to come, Zevran was his means to freedom, from both the suffocating pressure of his duties and the too-tight bonds he'd placed on himself. And that simple fact became a different sort of armor that slid over him as they drew closer to the palace proper.
Alistair stood outside, waiting, surrounded by several guards. Neither Anora nor Eamon were anywhere to be seen at the moment; perhaps this was to be friend-to-friend, then, the informal welcome home. Or one Grey Warden paying his respects to the fallen. Either way, having a chance to speak outside of the throne room was a welcome surprise, and Devin finally let the encroaching smile break free as he turned to Zevran.
"So, feel like having a bit of chat with the King of Ferelden?"
.fin.
--- Thanks so very much to everyone who's been reading this crazy thing, and to dear OP who prompted it (tho they may regret it by now...). :3
Thanks very much! XD I haven't touched this particular AUniverse again, though I'm finally finishing up Devin's canon playthrough (he never got through Origins...), so maybe that will inspire something or other XD
"Zevran... there's something important I need to tell you before we leave." The mage's eyes were on the path in front of them, but Zevran wondered if he was truly seeing the terrain, or if his gaze was focused inward.
"Yes, cariño?" He had an inkling of what Devin meant to say, of course, but he let the man speak his mind, patient as only a hunter could be, waiting for a creature to break cover.
"I..." The mage took a slow, deep breath, and Zevran wondered at how very nervous he seemed. "I'm not one of the Wardens who've been recruited since the Archdemon was killed. I've been a Warden since the Blight, and I..." There was another long pause before he continued. "I'm the Warden Commander."
The confession was made with such... resignation, as if Devin had drawn no pride from his position, and bore only the heavy burdens of duty. Zevran considered for a moment how he should respond. If he admitted he had suspected as much, where would that lead?
He thought of the mage's inner walls and outer facades. The Warden Commander armored himself, even in the act of making love. What does that mean? That he didn't trust even those that he let get so close to him?
Ah, but Devin had mentioned, specifically, "the games of the court". He would have played amongst those seeking influence and power, then -- possibly through him, because of his position. And so, anyone showing an interest in him may only have been trying to use him, Zevran concluded. Small wonder he never told me before. He wanted someone to come to know him for himself. That decided it for him.
"The... the Warden Commander?" he said, affecting slack-jawed surprise. "The Hero of Ferelden?"
Devin grimaced at the title. "I suppose." He glanced at Zevran now, trying to gauge the hunter's reaction.
"I see." Zevran was silent for a moment, as if trying to digest that bit of information. "Well, that is certainly a good thing to tell me now, so I won't be so surprised when they throw flowers at your feet in Denerim, yes?" he said lightly, trying to show the Warden that it made no difference to him.
"Flowers at my feet?" Devin echoed incredulously. "I lost five Wardens -- three young Fereldan volunteers -- clearing out a single group of Darkspawn, Zevran. That's wretched, and they'll be spitting at me, more likely," he said darkly.
"Surely not, my dear Warden," Zevran said solemnly. "I doubt anyone in this land has forgotten the Blight, and the terror of the Darkspawn. Particularly in Denerim -- it was invaded, no? It's not as if you led your Wardens on a springtime lark. They gave their lives in combat to protect other Fereldans -- even those who came from Orlais. Greater prices were paid during the Blight, surely. And in this battle, you were victorious, do not forget that."
The words sounded somewhat familiar to Zevran as he spoke them, though he wasn't sure why; if they meant anything in particular to Devin, the mage gave him no clues, falling silent for a long while. The hunter didn't know if his words had lightened the other man's fears at all, or if somehow he'd made it worse. He decided to simply wait, though, trusting that Devin would speak once he'd collected his thoughts.
Finally, the mage sighed and stopped, turning to look at Zevran directly. "The fact remains that I may find a cold reception in Denerim, and if you are with me, you may be subjected to the same," he said quietly. "If... that changes anything..."
"It changes nothing," Zevran said firmly. He met the Warden's troubled look. "If we are unwelcome in Denerim, then we will leave the Wardens' effects and take ourselves elsewhere. Very simple." He hoped that his use of we would demonstrate that he had no intention of leaving the mage on his own.
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"It is as I said before, cariño; I care little where we are -- besides away from here." He gave the other man a little half-smile. "And I care not at all for what these people have to say about you. I know what I have seen of you, felt from you. If they find you unworthy of respect, then I find them the same."
That was the honest truth. He had seen Devin doggedly hanging on in that terrible battle, had watched him struggle with both his guilt and his injuries, and had seen firsthand how fragile the mage's trust in others was. If the man's peers could not respect him for these things, for the sacrifices he had made for the Grey Wardens and for Ferelden, then Zevran didn't think much of them.
Devin was still looking at him intently, almost as if wary for a trick. With a tsking sound, Zevran pulled the taller man down slightly for a brief kiss.
"No more of these doubts, my dear Warden. Did I not say I was difficult to escape?" he said softly as they broke apart. "I am coming with you, and we will deal with whatever situation we find in your capital, or we will leave."
The mage nodded, finally seeming to relax. Zevran allowed himself to grin, then, knowing that he'd not have to say it again -- not any time soon, anyway. "Now..." He stepped in close to Devin, one arm snaking around his waist. "I believe we had plans to attend to...?"
The Warden was only too willing to comply.
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A runner had been sent from the last town they stayed in before reaching Denerim; several hours out of the capital, they were met on the road by an escort of armored city guards. Devin wondered sardonically if they were more for show or defense; the two travelers needed neither, but he had to resign himself to the fact that this was how things would be in Denerim. At least someone had had the sense to bring black banners and Grey Warden regalia; now the wagon bore the proper sense of gravitas.
As they drove through the city, Zevran looked all around, smiling slightly (but not so much, Devin noted, that he would seem disrespectful) at the sounds and bustle of the market district. The undercurrent of excitement from the elf gave Devin a bit of cheer as they drew closer to the Royal Palace.
"I can smell the sea," Zevran remarked quietly, his eyes bright. "I had not realized how much I'd missed that scent."
"Mmm, the docks are clear across town from here, but I'm sure we can make a trip out that way, if not today, then tomorrow," the mage promised. "...If you want to, that is."
"I think the docks are probably among the most unpleasant parts of any city," the elf chuckled. "Seeing them up close is not truly necessary, but thank you. Unless there is some place on the waterfront that you would like to share, of course."
Devin considered the only establishment in the waterfront district he was well-acquainted with, the Pearl, and snorted in amusement. "Perhaps..."
Once they passed through the enormous gate onto the palace grounds proper, the mage began to steel himself for the inevitable onslaught of questions, accusations and demands. Alistair might be happy to see him at first, in the way a friend would be, but as soon as things got official...
A gentle nudge at his side made him turn to look at Zevran, who gave him a small, encouraging sort of smile. "You look like a stormcloud already, cariño," he said in an undertone. "If that is what you wish to present, so be it, but if not... do not let them rule you in this way, my dear Warden."
Devin felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as the elf's words -- and his care -- sank in. He was beginning to understand that no matter what happened here today and in the days to come, Zevran was his means to freedom, from both the suffocating pressure of his duties and the too-tight bonds he'd placed on himself. And that simple fact became a different sort of armor that slid over him as they drew closer to the palace proper.
Alistair stood outside, waiting, surrounded by several guards. Neither Anora nor Eamon were anywhere to be seen at the moment; perhaps this was to be friend-to-friend, then, the informal welcome home. Or one Grey Warden paying his respects to the fallen. Either way, having a chance to speak outside of the throne room was a welcome surprise, and Devin finally let the encroaching smile break free as he turned to Zevran.
"So, feel like having a bit of chat with the King of Ferelden?"
.fin.
---
Thanks so very much to everyone who's been reading this crazy thing, and to dear OP who prompted it (tho they may regret it by now...). :3
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This anon would like to copy/paste the above comment and hi-light the "if you ever write more..." part.
I'm new to the meme and wonder if a!a has other writings that you could link to?
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Devin does have some non-AU escapades here on the meme with Alistair:
http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/328.html?thread=1389128#t1389128
http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/1636.html?thread=3028324#t3028324
http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/1636.html?thread=1356132#t1356132
And those, along with all the rest of my writing, is over here:
http://levalier_house.livejournal.com
:3
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