Well-Woven Net, Knot 15: A Gift Unlooked For
Ah. Finally reached one of, if not the most crucial moments in this story :) I hope I've done it justice.
Many thanks to syverce and Sresla for beta'ing this chapter :3 Also, much love to the Zevran fan thread on Bioware Social for the epic discussions on... the events covered here. ;D
Well-Woven Net, Knot 15: A Gift Unlooked For
Author: jenovan
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Knot 14
Alessar had managed to survive a briefing on the Queen's house arrest, a semi-formal evening meal with the Arl, a long discussion afterward about the current political climate among the Bannorn, and another dose of healing magic, this time from Morrigan; now he sat on the loveseat by the fireplace in his room, leg stretched out on the cushions, feeling a bit like a lazy cat as he basked in the heat. It felt good for his knee, though, which still ached a little, despite the healing. He hoped it was the sort of pain that went away with a good night's sleep - this was no time to be in less than perfect condition, especially if they were to be breaking into the Arl of Denerim's palace in the next few days.
At least I know my way around in there. Somewhat. The memories were still bitter, a year later. Now there was a different Arl, and a different woman to be rescued, this one a Queen - certainly more important than four elven women from the Alienage, kidnapped from a wedding...
A knock on the door, the cadence familiar, broke him out of his dark thoughts. "Come in," he called, unwilling to rise from his seat if he didn't have to.
Zevran, still dressed in the rich red tunic and deep brown breeches he'd worn to supper, stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind him. "I appreciate your trust, my dear Warden, but it is rather unsafe just to let people enter at will, no?" His smile made the scolding less harsh. "Especially here in Denerim."
"Hmm, I suppose you're right," Alessar admitted as the other elf came over to join him. "It's just that I was expecting you..." He started to move out of the way, but Zevran caught his foot, maneuvered around to sit down, and let the Warden's leg rest across his lap.
"Expecting me, hmm? Perhaps I should be a bit more capricious - I would so hate to become predictable," the assassin said with a teasing grin.
"I think 'predictable' is one of the last words I would use to describe you, Zev." Alessar's answering smile turned into a wince of discomfort as Zevran tentatively rubbed his knee.
"Ah... it still hurts, then?" The Antivan elf frowned in concern. "I thought the magic would have taken care of it by now."
"It's mostly fine," Alessar hastened to reassure him. "It just aches a little. Down to the bone, I guess. I'm hoping some rest will help..."
"Hm, perhaps. I suppose it was a very deep wound, wasn't it." Zevran's tone made his words more of a comment than a question, and his face was pensive as he gazed into the fire.
"I... I'm sorry, Zevran," the Warden said softly, sitting up and pulling his leg out of his companion's gentle hold. "About Taliesen."
The look the other elf gave him was strangely wary. "There... is no need to apologize, cielo. When Ignacio said that he had taken the contract... I knew it would come to this, eventually." He shook his head.
"Would you..." Alessar hesitated; he wasn't sure at all if Zevran would want to talk about his old friend, particularly with him, given the circumstances. Still, he could tell that it was weighing on Zevran's mind. "Would you like to talk about it?" he offered tentatively.
The assassin smiled faintly. "Thank you for the offer... but no. Perhaps on some other occasion, we can go through a bottle of fine Antivan brandy and I will tell you of some of the terrible things we got up to," and his use of the word terrible seemed to be humorous, "but not tonight, I think."
Alessar nodded, looking down, then back to the fireplace. Neither of them spoke for several long minutes, just soaking up the heat of the fire and the comfort of each other's presence.
"It occurred to me that I did not thank you," Zevran murmured, breaking the silence. After talking about Taliesen, this seemed rather out of place, and the Warden turned to look at his lover questioningly.
"You have freed me from the Crows," the assassin clarified, "and yet I did not think to thank you for it."
"Zevran," Alessar said, blinking in surprise, "there's... there's no need." And in his mind, there truly wasn't. For one thing, it wasn't as if Taliesen had given them any other choice... But besides that, he couldn't comprehend not trying to break the Crows' hold on the other elf. It wasn't a favor; it was simply something that had to be done, period.
"No, there is a need," Zevran insisted, looking at him steadily.
"I could do no less for a friend, Zev, let alone..." Did he dare say it? "...Let alone someone who's... more than that to me." He hedged at the last minute, not wanting to use the word "love" and bring the conversation to a crashing halt. Despite Zevran's vow to stay by his side, Alessar still wasn't entirely sure it was safe to use that word. Part of him wondered if it ever would be.
"Ah..." The assassin seemed to have a sudden thought or realization at Alessar's words. He was quite still for a moment, which Alessar recognized by now as a sign that he was steeling himself, and then he drew some small item from his belt pouch.
"It seems like an appropriate moment to give you this," he said quietly, holding out whatever it was.
Alessar held out his hand tentatively, and felt something small and smooth pressed into his palm. "You don't need to give me anything," he protested, his fingers closing over the rather peculiar shape.
"I may not need to," Zevran said earnestly, "but I want to."
A little startled by the turn the conversation had taken, Alessar finally looked at what he held in his hand. It was an earring, a deep blue teardrop-shaped gem capped with gold - precisely like the one Zevran wore. Eyes widening, he looked up at the assassin, wondering if the earring he held was the mate to the other, but the Antivan wore no earring at all now. This had to be the very same one.
"I acquired it on my very first job for the Crows," Zevran said lightly, not quite meeting Alessar's eyes. "A Rivaini merchant prince. He was wearing a single, jeweled earring when I killed him." The other elf tilted his head reflectively. "In fact, that was just about all he was wearing... But at any rate, I thought it beautiful, and I took it to mark the occasion." He finally looked at the Warden and smiled, but the expression seemed more reflexive than genuine, a shield for his true feelings. "I've kept it since then, and... I'd like you to have it."
At first, Alessar was appalled; this was a trophy from Zevran's first assassination? He had always tried to be non-judgmental about the Antivan's past - it wasn't as if Zevran had really had a choice about killing, if he wanted to live - but giving such a thing as a gift...
But as he thought about it a little further, he realized that Zevran had very few things to give. He had, by his own admission, come to Ferelden with virtually nothing, and most of what he had acquired since then had been necessities like blades and armor, either taken as loot or paid for with the group's shared funds. This earring was something he had worn for years, and if he had kept it so long, it must have become something dear to him. For him to give such a cherished thing to Alessar...
The Warden realized that he must have been staring at his lover, because the other elf looked away uncomfortably. "Don't... don't get the wrong idea about it. It's really the least I could give you, in return for my freedom," he said deprecatingly, waving a hand as if this were some small matter. "Feel free to sell it, wear it, whatever you'd like."
Alessar frowned uncertainly. To give such a gift as a simple thank-you seemed... well, excessive. Unless he was so utterly overwhelmed with the idea of freedom, but... given what had just been said earlier, about being more than friends...
"This is... simply a gift in return for helping you?" the Warden asked slowly, trying to keep his voice neutral.
"It's..." Zevran shifted uncomfortably. "It's meant a lot to me, but so have- so has what you've done for me. Please, just... just take it."
Alessar heard the slip, heard what Zevran almost said - what he refused to say. And while part of him understood, another part of him, a part growing louder by the moment, was tired of these evasions. Tired and hurt. He didn't expect the assassin to... declare his undying love for the Warden in front of the Landsmeet, or some such thing, but for him to not even be able to let himself say something as simple as, "you mean a lot to me", when he clearly felt that way...
"Zevran..." he began, then stopped as he heard the slight tremor in his voice. Can I do this? Should I do this? He swallowed hard, trying to anticipate the other elf's reaction to what he was about to do. He's anything but a fool... he has to understand what I mean by this. "It... it would mean something more, to me," he finally said, meeting Zevran's amber stare. "If it doesn't mean the same to you, then I... I can't accept it."
He reached for Zevran's hand to give the earring back, and he could tell, by the slightest twitch, that the assassin nearly jerked his hand away. He couldn't bear to look up as he gently pressed the earring into the other elf's hand, but he knew those bright eyes were burning into him.
Numbly, Alessar closed Zevran's fingers around the earring and let go, dropping his hands into his lap. What happens now...?
"You are an infuriating man to deal with," Zevran breathed. The irritation in his voice made the Warden's shoulders hunch instinctively, as if expecting a blow. "We pick up every little bauble and trinket and bit of treasure that we come across, but you won't take this?" He rose from the loveseat, and Alessar finally looked up at him. He almost wished he hadn't; the other man was staring at him with wide-eyed disbelief, and something else - anger, probably. "Fine. If you do not want it, you shall not have it."
"Z-Zevran..." Alessar stammered, taken aback by the assassin's vehemence. He had no defense against Zevran's ire - he'd never needed it. "I only-"
"No, my dear Warden, I think enough has been said tonight." Zevran's voice still carried a note of vexation, a hint of ice, but now he sounded more weary than anything else. "More than enough." He tucked the earring away again, not looking at the other elf. "I should let you rest; you will need your full strength in the days to come, yes?"
He's leaving. But of course he's leaving, after that, you idiot! Feeling an unpleasantly familiar sense of panic, Alessar staggered to his feet, catching Zevran's arm before he could move away.
"... Cielo," the assassin began, again, sounding more tired than angry.
"Zevran, please. Please don't..." Alessar trailed off, unsure of exactly what he meant to say, but he was already deeply regretting his refusal of the gift. Surely, he could have gotten his point across in some other way? But it was far too late now.
The other elf looked at him for a long moment, his eyes traveling over Alessar's face as he seemed to read every nuance in the Warden's expression. Alessar wondered worriedly what he saw, or what he thought he saw.
Finally, Zevran brought one hand up to Alessar's cheek, his other arm steady against the Warden's hold, a bit of subtle support for the injured elf. "I will see you in the morning, cielo," he said softly before giving the other man a chaste kiss goodnight, his lips brushing lightly against Alessar's. "Rest well." He pulled away carefully, again, mindful of Alessar's unsteady balance, and met the Warden's eyes briefly before turning and walking to the door.
Alessar, paralyzed by anxiety and remorse, could only watch him leave in silence. Once the door closed, he managed to slowly sink into the loveseat again, and for a long while, he simply sat there, gazing into the flames. The warmth of the fire still felt soothing on his wound, but it did little to alleviate the cold, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Zevran pulled the heavy oak door shut and leaned back against it for a moment, closing his eyes.
What does he want from me?
His momentary anger and hurt had already faded, although they still simmered below the surface; it would be easy enough to stir the welter of negative emotions into a boil again, he knew. For the moment, though, most of what he felt was a sort of helpless frustration, which was not an emotion the assassin was overly familiar with.
Cursing under his breath in his native tongue, he pulled away from the door and made his way to his own small chamber, moving quickly and quietly by habit. He startled a chambermaid as he rounded a corner, causing her to let out a little scream and nearly drop her armful of linens, but he barely paused for more than a mumbled apology before continuing. Fortunately, he encountered none of the other members of the company before he reached his room; most of them would have recognized how out of sorts he was, surely, and he didn't want to be seen this way. There would have been questions, uncomfortable ones that he didn't necessarily have answers for.
Once in the safety of his room, Zevran peeled out of his fine clothes, setting them aside to be put away neatly later. His motions were automatic, hands opening fasteners and laces without the guidance of conscious thought. How could he refuse? I never would have offered the thing if I really thought he'd... He did not like to make wagers he thought he wouldn't win; he would never have shown so much of his hand if he'd thought he'd be rebuffed in such a way.
Well, no, that wasn't exactly right - he hadn't been rebuffed, exactly. He knew Alessar felt... strongly for him, and the Warden had just said as much moments before, so he had assumed that, at the very least, the other elf wouldn't laugh him out of the room for trying to offer such a thing. He had expected appreciation and acceptance, or perhaps a tentative refusal - at first - based on the sheer value of the earring; Alessar's Alienage-honed tastes clearly didn't run to fine gems, after all. But a refusal because of sentimental worth?
The assassin retrieved the earring from his belt pouch and looked at it in the warm light of the single oil lamp in the room. He was forced to ask himself: what would prompt him to give up something he'd worn as a badge of pride for more than a decade? He'd never been moved to such a gesture before, and that realization, once Alessar started pressing him for an explanation, frightened him. He'd fumbled for plausible reasons, trying to avoid looking any deeper into his own motivations, but the Warden, curse him, hadn't accepted that.
"It would mean something more to me?" More than what? More than all of the things I can't say? No, he realized, that was Alessar's point. To him, it's worth more than those few things I can say.
Maker's Breath. Zevran set the earring gently on the bedside table and snuffed the wick of the lamp before settling on the bed, his hands clasped behind his head as he stared up at the rich fabric draped over the canopy. Is that what he wants from me? Words? Anyone can say words and not mean them, make promises in the dark and break them at morning's light. But that wasn't fair, either. He knew, more or less, what Alessar wanted to hear, but he didn't know if he could bring himself to face it, let alone say it out loud. It went against everything he had ever been taught, the cold practicality that had been his way of life until recently.
And yet, even if he couldn't face it... it was there. He knew it, Alessar knew it, even Taliesen had seen it. And that inevitability was the most frightening thing of all.
As Zevran's mind began to spin itself to exhaustion, trying to find some way out of this maze he now found himself in, sleep seemed very far away.
.fin.
Knot 16
Many thanks to syverce and Sresla for beta'ing this chapter :3 Also, much love to the Zevran fan thread on Bioware Social for the epic discussions on... the events covered here. ;D
Well-Woven Net, Knot 15: A Gift Unlooked For
Author: jenovan
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Knot 14
Alessar had managed to survive a briefing on the Queen's house arrest, a semi-formal evening meal with the Arl, a long discussion afterward about the current political climate among the Bannorn, and another dose of healing magic, this time from Morrigan; now he sat on the loveseat by the fireplace in his room, leg stretched out on the cushions, feeling a bit like a lazy cat as he basked in the heat. It felt good for his knee, though, which still ached a little, despite the healing. He hoped it was the sort of pain that went away with a good night's sleep - this was no time to be in less than perfect condition, especially if they were to be breaking into the Arl of Denerim's palace in the next few days.
At least I know my way around in there. Somewhat. The memories were still bitter, a year later. Now there was a different Arl, and a different woman to be rescued, this one a Queen - certainly more important than four elven women from the Alienage, kidnapped from a wedding...
A knock on the door, the cadence familiar, broke him out of his dark thoughts. "Come in," he called, unwilling to rise from his seat if he didn't have to.
Zevran, still dressed in the rich red tunic and deep brown breeches he'd worn to supper, stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind him. "I appreciate your trust, my dear Warden, but it is rather unsafe just to let people enter at will, no?" His smile made the scolding less harsh. "Especially here in Denerim."
"Hmm, I suppose you're right," Alessar admitted as the other elf came over to join him. "It's just that I was expecting you..." He started to move out of the way, but Zevran caught his foot, maneuvered around to sit down, and let the Warden's leg rest across his lap.
"Expecting me, hmm? Perhaps I should be a bit more capricious - I would so hate to become predictable," the assassin said with a teasing grin.
"I think 'predictable' is one of the last words I would use to describe you, Zev." Alessar's answering smile turned into a wince of discomfort as Zevran tentatively rubbed his knee.
"Ah... it still hurts, then?" The Antivan elf frowned in concern. "I thought the magic would have taken care of it by now."
"It's mostly fine," Alessar hastened to reassure him. "It just aches a little. Down to the bone, I guess. I'm hoping some rest will help..."
"Hm, perhaps. I suppose it was a very deep wound, wasn't it." Zevran's tone made his words more of a comment than a question, and his face was pensive as he gazed into the fire.
"I... I'm sorry, Zevran," the Warden said softly, sitting up and pulling his leg out of his companion's gentle hold. "About Taliesen."
The look the other elf gave him was strangely wary. "There... is no need to apologize, cielo. When Ignacio said that he had taken the contract... I knew it would come to this, eventually." He shook his head.
"Would you..." Alessar hesitated; he wasn't sure at all if Zevran would want to talk about his old friend, particularly with him, given the circumstances. Still, he could tell that it was weighing on Zevran's mind. "Would you like to talk about it?" he offered tentatively.
The assassin smiled faintly. "Thank you for the offer... but no. Perhaps on some other occasion, we can go through a bottle of fine Antivan brandy and I will tell you of some of the terrible things we got up to," and his use of the word terrible seemed to be humorous, "but not tonight, I think."
Alessar nodded, looking down, then back to the fireplace. Neither of them spoke for several long minutes, just soaking up the heat of the fire and the comfort of each other's presence.
"It occurred to me that I did not thank you," Zevran murmured, breaking the silence. After talking about Taliesen, this seemed rather out of place, and the Warden turned to look at his lover questioningly.
"You have freed me from the Crows," the assassin clarified, "and yet I did not think to thank you for it."
"Zevran," Alessar said, blinking in surprise, "there's... there's no need." And in his mind, there truly wasn't. For one thing, it wasn't as if Taliesen had given them any other choice... But besides that, he couldn't comprehend not trying to break the Crows' hold on the other elf. It wasn't a favor; it was simply something that had to be done, period.
"No, there is a need," Zevran insisted, looking at him steadily.
"I could do no less for a friend, Zev, let alone..." Did he dare say it? "...Let alone someone who's... more than that to me." He hedged at the last minute, not wanting to use the word "love" and bring the conversation to a crashing halt. Despite Zevran's vow to stay by his side, Alessar still wasn't entirely sure it was safe to use that word. Part of him wondered if it ever would be.
"Ah..." The assassin seemed to have a sudden thought or realization at Alessar's words. He was quite still for a moment, which Alessar recognized by now as a sign that he was steeling himself, and then he drew some small item from his belt pouch.
"It seems like an appropriate moment to give you this," he said quietly, holding out whatever it was.
Alessar held out his hand tentatively, and felt something small and smooth pressed into his palm. "You don't need to give me anything," he protested, his fingers closing over the rather peculiar shape.
"I may not need to," Zevran said earnestly, "but I want to."
A little startled by the turn the conversation had taken, Alessar finally looked at what he held in his hand. It was an earring, a deep blue teardrop-shaped gem capped with gold - precisely like the one Zevran wore. Eyes widening, he looked up at the assassin, wondering if the earring he held was the mate to the other, but the Antivan wore no earring at all now. This had to be the very same one.
"I acquired it on my very first job for the Crows," Zevran said lightly, not quite meeting Alessar's eyes. "A Rivaini merchant prince. He was wearing a single, jeweled earring when I killed him." The other elf tilted his head reflectively. "In fact, that was just about all he was wearing... But at any rate, I thought it beautiful, and I took it to mark the occasion." He finally looked at the Warden and smiled, but the expression seemed more reflexive than genuine, a shield for his true feelings. "I've kept it since then, and... I'd like you to have it."
At first, Alessar was appalled; this was a trophy from Zevran's first assassination? He had always tried to be non-judgmental about the Antivan's past - it wasn't as if Zevran had really had a choice about killing, if he wanted to live - but giving such a thing as a gift...
But as he thought about it a little further, he realized that Zevran had very few things to give. He had, by his own admission, come to Ferelden with virtually nothing, and most of what he had acquired since then had been necessities like blades and armor, either taken as loot or paid for with the group's shared funds. This earring was something he had worn for years, and if he had kept it so long, it must have become something dear to him. For him to give such a cherished thing to Alessar...
The Warden realized that he must have been staring at his lover, because the other elf looked away uncomfortably. "Don't... don't get the wrong idea about it. It's really the least I could give you, in return for my freedom," he said deprecatingly, waving a hand as if this were some small matter. "Feel free to sell it, wear it, whatever you'd like."
Alessar frowned uncertainly. To give such a gift as a simple thank-you seemed... well, excessive. Unless he was so utterly overwhelmed with the idea of freedom, but... given what had just been said earlier, about being more than friends...
"This is... simply a gift in return for helping you?" the Warden asked slowly, trying to keep his voice neutral.
"It's..." Zevran shifted uncomfortably. "It's meant a lot to me, but so have- so has what you've done for me. Please, just... just take it."
Alessar heard the slip, heard what Zevran almost said - what he refused to say. And while part of him understood, another part of him, a part growing louder by the moment, was tired of these evasions. Tired and hurt. He didn't expect the assassin to... declare his undying love for the Warden in front of the Landsmeet, or some such thing, but for him to not even be able to let himself say something as simple as, "you mean a lot to me", when he clearly felt that way...
"Zevran..." he began, then stopped as he heard the slight tremor in his voice. Can I do this? Should I do this? He swallowed hard, trying to anticipate the other elf's reaction to what he was about to do. He's anything but a fool... he has to understand what I mean by this. "It... it would mean something more, to me," he finally said, meeting Zevran's amber stare. "If it doesn't mean the same to you, then I... I can't accept it."
He reached for Zevran's hand to give the earring back, and he could tell, by the slightest twitch, that the assassin nearly jerked his hand away. He couldn't bear to look up as he gently pressed the earring into the other elf's hand, but he knew those bright eyes were burning into him.
Numbly, Alessar closed Zevran's fingers around the earring and let go, dropping his hands into his lap. What happens now...?
"You are an infuriating man to deal with," Zevran breathed. The irritation in his voice made the Warden's shoulders hunch instinctively, as if expecting a blow. "We pick up every little bauble and trinket and bit of treasure that we come across, but you won't take this?" He rose from the loveseat, and Alessar finally looked up at him. He almost wished he hadn't; the other man was staring at him with wide-eyed disbelief, and something else - anger, probably. "Fine. If you do not want it, you shall not have it."
"Z-Zevran..." Alessar stammered, taken aback by the assassin's vehemence. He had no defense against Zevran's ire - he'd never needed it. "I only-"
"No, my dear Warden, I think enough has been said tonight." Zevran's voice still carried a note of vexation, a hint of ice, but now he sounded more weary than anything else. "More than enough." He tucked the earring away again, not looking at the other elf. "I should let you rest; you will need your full strength in the days to come, yes?"
He's leaving. But of course he's leaving, after that, you idiot! Feeling an unpleasantly familiar sense of panic, Alessar staggered to his feet, catching Zevran's arm before he could move away.
"... Cielo," the assassin began, again, sounding more tired than angry.
"Zevran, please. Please don't..." Alessar trailed off, unsure of exactly what he meant to say, but he was already deeply regretting his refusal of the gift. Surely, he could have gotten his point across in some other way? But it was far too late now.
The other elf looked at him for a long moment, his eyes traveling over Alessar's face as he seemed to read every nuance in the Warden's expression. Alessar wondered worriedly what he saw, or what he thought he saw.
Finally, Zevran brought one hand up to Alessar's cheek, his other arm steady against the Warden's hold, a bit of subtle support for the injured elf. "I will see you in the morning, cielo," he said softly before giving the other man a chaste kiss goodnight, his lips brushing lightly against Alessar's. "Rest well." He pulled away carefully, again, mindful of Alessar's unsteady balance, and met the Warden's eyes briefly before turning and walking to the door.
Alessar, paralyzed by anxiety and remorse, could only watch him leave in silence. Once the door closed, he managed to slowly sink into the loveseat again, and for a long while, he simply sat there, gazing into the flames. The warmth of the fire still felt soothing on his wound, but it did little to alleviate the cold, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Zevran pulled the heavy oak door shut and leaned back against it for a moment, closing his eyes.
What does he want from me?
His momentary anger and hurt had already faded, although they still simmered below the surface; it would be easy enough to stir the welter of negative emotions into a boil again, he knew. For the moment, though, most of what he felt was a sort of helpless frustration, which was not an emotion the assassin was overly familiar with.
Cursing under his breath in his native tongue, he pulled away from the door and made his way to his own small chamber, moving quickly and quietly by habit. He startled a chambermaid as he rounded a corner, causing her to let out a little scream and nearly drop her armful of linens, but he barely paused for more than a mumbled apology before continuing. Fortunately, he encountered none of the other members of the company before he reached his room; most of them would have recognized how out of sorts he was, surely, and he didn't want to be seen this way. There would have been questions, uncomfortable ones that he didn't necessarily have answers for.
Once in the safety of his room, Zevran peeled out of his fine clothes, setting them aside to be put away neatly later. His motions were automatic, hands opening fasteners and laces without the guidance of conscious thought. How could he refuse? I never would have offered the thing if I really thought he'd... He did not like to make wagers he thought he wouldn't win; he would never have shown so much of his hand if he'd thought he'd be rebuffed in such a way.
Well, no, that wasn't exactly right - he hadn't been rebuffed, exactly. He knew Alessar felt... strongly for him, and the Warden had just said as much moments before, so he had assumed that, at the very least, the other elf wouldn't laugh him out of the room for trying to offer such a thing. He had expected appreciation and acceptance, or perhaps a tentative refusal - at first - based on the sheer value of the earring; Alessar's Alienage-honed tastes clearly didn't run to fine gems, after all. But a refusal because of sentimental worth?
The assassin retrieved the earring from his belt pouch and looked at it in the warm light of the single oil lamp in the room. He was forced to ask himself: what would prompt him to give up something he'd worn as a badge of pride for more than a decade? He'd never been moved to such a gesture before, and that realization, once Alessar started pressing him for an explanation, frightened him. He'd fumbled for plausible reasons, trying to avoid looking any deeper into his own motivations, but the Warden, curse him, hadn't accepted that.
"It would mean something more to me?" More than what? More than all of the things I can't say? No, he realized, that was Alessar's point. To him, it's worth more than those few things I can say.
Maker's Breath. Zevran set the earring gently on the bedside table and snuffed the wick of the lamp before settling on the bed, his hands clasped behind his head as he stared up at the rich fabric draped over the canopy. Is that what he wants from me? Words? Anyone can say words and not mean them, make promises in the dark and break them at morning's light. But that wasn't fair, either. He knew, more or less, what Alessar wanted to hear, but he didn't know if he could bring himself to face it, let alone say it out loud. It went against everything he had ever been taught, the cold practicality that had been his way of life until recently.
And yet, even if he couldn't face it... it was there. He knew it, Alessar knew it, even Taliesen had seen it. And that inevitability was the most frightening thing of all.
As Zevran's mind began to spin itself to exhaustion, trying to find some way out of this maze he now found himself in, sleep seemed very far away.
.fin.
Knot 16