Fic - A Child Unexpected (Part 6)
Title: A Child Unexpected (Part 6 of 12)
Author: skybound2
Characters: Fem!City-Elf PC (Kallian Tabris), Sten, Zevran, and Alistair (the overall fic is Zevran/Tabris with Sten and some others tossed in. Liberally, at times. References Alistair/Tabris and Zevran/Other.)
Word Count: ~3600 (this chapter; ~19300 so far)
Rating: T
Summary: Heroes have problems too. That's why they need friends. In this bit: Zevran makes his way to Seheron, and meets up with Tabris.
Spoilers: Through end game.
Author's Note: Now that my ficathon is all posted, I can get back to my regularly scheduled WIP. Also, this chapter gave me a devil of a time, I'll tell you. Sorry for the long delay folks. I suspect there will be another update this week. So don't hate me! This story can also be found at FFN. Many, many thanks to pennydreadful for the beta!!!
Previously: (On LJ)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Interlude (the First)
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Denerim: Fourteen Months after the Fall of the Archdemon
Shianni had been surprisingly unhelpful. Well, at least as far as she her words were concerned. For someone as skilled in body language as Zevran, Shianni's body had spoken much more loudly than her tongue ever could.
Zevran had made a point of visiting with Kallian's cousin at least twice every fortnight since he had taken up residence in Denerim. There was, after all, only so many hours in a day he could entertain himself by verbally torturing Alistair, or flitting from bed to bed (or to the occasional desk or bath) with the lovely bed-partners he had collected since he'd planted roots. And visiting with Cyrion and Shianni always left him feeling a bit more refreshed.
Not only was it enjoyable to spend time with elves that were not meek servants, but it was wonderful to spend time with her family. He had gotten on well enough with Cyrion when they first met, and Shianni was a delicious fire-cracker. (Not that she had ever succumbed to his advances; he suspected that he might actually have more of a chance bedding the king then Kallian's cousin, for all the interest she seemed to show in him.)
While Zevran hadn't really believed that Shianni would be able to provide him with any overly useful bit of information, he had hoped that she could shed some light on Kallian's choices. As he had suspected, she'd been in fairly regular contact with her cousin via letters.
The red-head had avoided eye contact with Zevran for nearly the entire duration of the conversation, which wasn't very long to begin with, "I'm sorry, Zevran, but I really am running quite late. Perhaps we could get together for lunch, or perhaps dinner, nearer to the end of the week. I don't have much news to give you about Kallian - but, we could catch up. I'm certain that Soris and Cyrion would love to speak with you again as well."
He'd managed to avoid giving an answer regarding the dinner, and watched as she near scampered out of the room, but not before giving him a pitying look.
The woman was hiding something, something which she felt both stressed and weighed down by; but try as he might, he couldn't breach her defenses.
If he'd had no luck with her, he was positive that his luck with Cyrion would have been even worse.
Wholly unsatisfied, but not wishing to delay any longer, Zevran packed what few belongings he deemed worthy enough to bog him down, and skipped out of the city on the next barge heading for the Free Marches. From there, he made his way, slowly but steadily, into Antiva.
Antiva: Eighteen Months after the Fall of the Archdemon
The change in scenery as he entered his homelands acted as a tonic for a troubled soul. He hadn't quite realized how much he had longed for Antiva while he was away. It was simply not something he dwelled overly long on, not when there were so many more interesting ways to spend his days and nights.
Being forced to make the last portion of his journey home by land had taken a great deal longer than he would have liked, and by the time he arrived in Antiva City, he was completely drained and travel-weary. And wanted nothing more than a warm, overly-large, bed and a hot bath. Not necessarily in that order. Luckily, he knew just the place to find both; and happily enough, it came with plenty of companionship as well.
Over the next few days, he found himself reveling in the sights and sounds and tastes of his homeland. The air was rich with caramel and leather. The women and men, dashing and devious in equal measure. And now that he had something to compare it to, he could clearly see how much the blight had ravaged Ferelden. For here, in Antiva, the world was vibrant, lively. There was character to be found everywhere you turned. Even the ramshackle buildings in the seedier portions of towns were bursting with it. There was a subtle joy to be found in these familiar haunts, and the urge to stay in lieu of pressing on was a strong one.
He probably should have anticipated the less than stellar welcome the Crows would have in store for him, however, and taken precautions. Living in Ferelden for so long had clearly dulled his sense of treachery.
It took him a number of months, and not a little spilt blood (mostly not his), along with a sizable amount of gold (mostly Alistair's), before Zevran had been able to get passage out of Antiva.
He left a considerable hole in the Crow infrastructure by way of a parting gift.
Seheron: Twenty-two Months after the Fall of the Archdemon
In an exceedingly rare case of luck, Zevran's ship arrived in port just a few scant hours behind another, larger vessel. A vessel with an over-sized cargo hold, and several blades-for-hire guarding the lowered planks.
Most importantly, however, were the scattered men milling upon the docks, two of which sported shields emblazoned with the Grey Warden's crest.
While there was the slightest of chances they were for here for a reason entirely separate from his own, Zevran had to acknowledge that this was rather unlikely.
If they were in fact here for Kallian, however, the small size of their band was at least somewhat heartening. They could not seriously mean to take her by force with such a small number.
If that was their plan, then they were in for quite the surprise. This was a situation that he could work with.
~~~\/~~~
Zevran blended into the shadows seamlessly. The skill was second nature to him now, and one which he was careful to never allow to rust. One must always take care of one's weapons after all.
He followed, several paces behind, taking in the nervous twitches and gestures of an elf, and the darting eyes of a (not quite careful enough) Warden as he followed. Though Zevran had never before been to Seheron, it was obvious that the other elf at least had. His steps were sure, if shaky, and he did not hesitate at any turn.
Before long, Zevran found himself, tucked down behind a pulling cart, well masked by stealth, and the shadows cast by the noon-day sun, in a perfect position to see the Warden fall back into a similarly hidden position, and the elf pressed forward, tugging on the bag slung low over one hip. Zevran's hand twitched over one of his concealed daggers, making certain it was well within reach. Just in case.
Despite the fact that it was only logical that the house they were perched in front of would belong to Kallian, Zevran was still wholly unprepared for the range of emotions that the sight of her smiling countenance opening the door caused inside him.
Trepidation. Longing. Frustration.
Joy.
A slow warmth began to build in him as he watched her smile at the other elf in greeting. The sound of her voice amplified in Zevran's long-deprived ears.
"Yes, can I help you?"
"Are you the Warden Tabris?"
"Depends on who's asking."
Ah, how I have missed that curt tone. Truly, he had not realized how much until that very moment. Watching her good humor towards the messenger fade, and be replaced by annoyance, and then - oddly - relief. Zevran was momentarily puzzled until her words finally registered. Ahhh, So Alistair's subtle machinations to keep the Warden's away from our Tabris failed some time ago. I wonder if the poor fool is still sending his false leads? If only the Good King had been amendable to Zevran's suggestion of a binding. Or any of his suggestions at all, really, besides sending notes.
"I see. Now tell me, did they explain to you just what it tastes like when you swallow your own tongue?"
Oh, Kallian. What a dazzling whirlwind you would be if let loose in Antiva...
Apparently, the threat to the messenger's life is quite enough for the shadow skulking Grey Warden from the docks, for he chose that time to intercede. Had Kallian not looked so undeniably menacing at that moment, eyes ablaze, and arms crossed, Zevran might have interfered. As it was, he was delighted merely to watch. And wait.
The mabari at her heels was soon joined by a very familiar qunari, standing just a step behind the woman of everyone's interest, talking in low tones so that the Antivan could not quite hear. There was a brief jab of ice in Zevran's heart when he noted the other man, but it was gone so quickly, that it was barely worth noting.
The next word's from Kallian's mouth sent the world tumbling out from under him however. A child? She has a child? Shianni, you are a better liar than I have given you credit for... His eyes darted to the qunari's face searching, disbelieving, and then (finally) closed briefly with relief.
So, the child was not Sten's. And, over a year old, it would seem. The vague timeline was little use for clarification on who the father might be, however. Assuming a normal birth, that could mean that the child had been conceived anytime from two months prior to the battle with the Archdemon, until several months after. There was simply no way to know unless she chose to impart that wisdom on the Orlesian questioning her. And judging by the scowl on her face, Zevran did not think that likely to occur.
As quick as it had appeared, the scowl was dropped, to be replaced by the gentle chewing of her lower lip. Zevran's whole body nearly sighed with relief at seeing the familiar gesture.
"How long before your ship leaves?"
What?! She could not possibly be serious. Was she actually planning to travel to Weisshaupt? What was the purpose of all of this deception if she was just going to give in at the first bit of pressure?
"We can be ready to depart in three days time. If that would suit? We need to restock, and there is some business we must attend to with the Arishok as well. Once that is done, well..." The Orlesian's voice trailed off, but Zevran could see the tension still holding him. The man was definitely weaving a tale. A last minute one, if the hesitation in his voice was anything to go on. But what is the purpose if she is so willing to go?
She nodded. "That should be fine."
There was a shift to the Orlesian's stance that set off alarms in Zevran's mind. His hand closed around his dagger, and he took on step forward, preparing to strike should the need arise. No sooner had he done so, however, then the other man relaxed his form, and Zevran fell back to the shadows.
There was no immediate threat, but something was off about the Orlesian. There was some bit of information that he was privy to, and which he was deliberately not imparting. Something which he attempted to cover up via lofty compliments and platitudes.
To his credit, he did appear to do so successfully. Either Kallian was too distracted, or she was slipping. Both options were equally poor signs.
"You may ask for me. My name is Declan." Oh, Zevran would be asking, that was for certain.
He waited, silent as a wraith, and watched as the messenger and the Warden retreated at a brisk pace. The other elf attempted to question the Warden, but was swiftly silenced. The smart choice at that moment would have been to follow the pair, and discern want he could about their intentions. All of Zevran's training and skills screamed for him to do so. There was no logical reason for him to walk up to Kallian's door and rap on the wood panel instead. Absolutely no logical reason at all.
Perhaps Zevran had spent more time with Alistair than was advisable, for it was exactly the sort of thing that the bastard King would do.
The door swung wide, her irritated voice echoing over the threshold. "This better be goo-"
"Ahh, how I have missed that look of annoyance, my dear Grey Warden." The smile that stole across Zevran's face was genuine. It had been far too long since he had stood before her.
It would have been impossible to miss how all the color drained from her sun-kissed face, or the way her hands fell like lead by her side. It chilled him considerably. Was the sight of him at her door sincerely so much more daunting than the Warden's that had just passed? "Zevran?"
Never one to let an opportunity to touch her pass him by, Zevran bowed deeply at the waist, and grabbed one hand as he rose. His lips tingled where they caressed her skin. "You were expecting someone else, I presume?"
Color returned to her cheeks full-force as he let her hand slip, somewhat regretfully from his hold. "I - what are you...how did you...I can't believe..." She stuttered and stammered all over her words, seemingly bewildered.
While he had not been expecting her to greet his arrival with trumpets or fanfare, neither had he expected her to seem so lost at his mere presence. A part of him yearned for the easy camaraderie they had once shared, while another part of him (the part that would never admit to the bitter feelings of rejectionhe felt) wanted to revel in her discomfort. The former won. This round at least.
He let go of a laugh, and leaned his body against the entry, one ankle crossed over the other so that his foot just barely touched hers. "I do not believe I have ever had the pleasure of seeing you so tongue-tied before, Warden. Well, apart from once." He let his eyes dart down her body, enjoying the way the dress that she wore (a garment he never imagined to see her in) fitted around her curves, before locking them on the blue-depths that had so mesmerized him once upon a time.
The blush that had previously stained her cheeks doubled, if only for a moment, before she seemed to catch herself in his stare. "I see you haven't changed a bit, Zev." His nickname on her lips set his blood briefly aflame.
"One does not alter perfection, my lovely Warden." This time the blush was bashful, nearly as sweet as the crystalline laugh that accompanied it, it was a wonder to behold. "I do believe you were trying to ask me why I was here, yes? Perhaps we can discuss the particulars from within your home?"
"Oh. Oh! Oh, yes. Please - uh, please come in." The expression on her face was curious. Her emotions flickered almost too quickly for Zevran to notice, but he still was able to perceive the undercurrent of fear in her eyes. His own defenses began to rise, subconsciously, as a result.
She let him pass through the door, closing it slowly behind her. He took a moment to smile crookedly at Sten, who had as yet not spoken a word (not so unusual), and was surprised when the large man greeted him with a slight bow in return, his violet eyes as off-putting as ever. Although perhaps a bit more so now than before, as they seemed to be gauging Zevran on a level that the qunari had never before deemed Zevran worthy of; he had seen the stare directed at Alistair a time or two in the past however.
How very interesting.
Zevran swiftly took in his surroundings: small, humble, but homey. There was an elevated chair with a tray strapped to it, a tipped over bowl of some sort of gruel decorated its surface. A feeding stool for Kallian's child, no doubt. There were small toys scattered about, but overall the room was clean. Orderly. A painting that Zevran recognized decorated one wall; overall the home seemed to suit both Kallian and Sten.
He was entirely uncertain how to feel about that.
He turned, just in time to see Kallian pull back from the door, the fact that she must have had her forehead pressed against it seconds before did not pass him by. His feelings of unease were beginning to grow at exponential rates.
"So, Zev. What brings you all the way to Seheron?" She moved, slowly away from the door, and crossed to the other side of the small space, picking up things as she went. He watched her, a hawk's eye. The tremble in her hands belying the steadiness of her words.
Sten scoffed. Her question seemingly as ridiculous to him as it was unnecessary to Zev. "Hmm, I could claim that I was merely passing through, but such an ugly lie that would be. In truth, I have spent much longer in Ferelden with the Good King," And here, her hands paused in their movements for just a moment; quickly, she moved forward and grabbed for a fallen sock, "than I had ever intended. So I decided that a return trip to Antiva was in order, but...circumstances there are less than ideal at the moment. As it turned out, there was a boat leaving precisely when I was, bound for these lands. A rather serendipitous turn of events, I should say."
This time it was a snort that passed from Sten, as he crossed his arms and leaned back on the wall beside the painting. "Indeed."
Zevran tossed a smirk at Sten. A raised eyebrow was his reward. Breathing in deep, he stepped forward and placed a hand over Kallian's where it clutched at the sock. "It has been too long, my friend."
Her eyes, which had been scattered and nervous since his arrival, warmed a bit as they looked at him. He felt some of the knots tied about him loosen, ever so gently.
A light scuffle sounded from the room off the left of the small kitchen, followed by a familiar 'woof' that made Zevran smile in memory. A moment later the door, which had been slightly ajar, was pushed further open by the hulking beast of a mabari. While he had of course taken note of the hound from his spy-perch outside, he saw no reason to tip his hand just yet and reveal his earlier presence. "Ahh, I see Sten has not had you entirely to himself after all." Zevran's head tilted as the dog meandered slowly out of the other room. "Although, your pup does not appeared to have fared well."
Kallian looked confused, as she glanced over towards the dog, who had stopped in the doorway momentarily, head turned behind him. "What do you mean?"
Turned as his head was now, the dog looked as if he was nipping at his own hind quarters. "He appears to be limping."
"What?" And this time she turned fully, her hand falling away from Zevran, and took a step towards the mabari in concern. She came to a stiff halt, however, when the dog pulled forth out of the room, a small toddling child clutching the fur of the hound's hindquarters.
A small elven child.
A small, blonde, elven child.
Zevran's brain began churning over the facts as fast as he could. His eyes darted over the little girl's features as she grappled with the beast's fur, using him as a walking stick as she waddled on small unclothed feet across the floor boards. Zevran felt his entire body seize up when she turned eerily familiar amber eyes (that were just a tad oversized for her head) on him for a moment, before passing him by and focusing on Sten. At which point she smiled a dazzling, tiny-toothed smile and Zevran's heart started beating again.
She relinquished her hold on the pup in favor of tossing both hands up at the qunari. "Sven, story!"
Sten glanced from the child, over to Kallian, his unblinking gaze met Zevran's for less than a moment, before he bent down and swooped the child up into his arms. "An excellent plan, Imekari. " The sound of the child's tinkling laughter filled the room. With nary a glance back, Sten exited the kitchen and entered the room the child and mabari had vacated. He left the door slightly open behind them.
A bucket of ice-water. That was what it felt like to Zevran. He was drenched in cold. The child was small, beautiful. She had Kallian's smile - brighter than any sun. And she was...the child undeniably was...
"Mine. She's mine." His voice was dry, his throat scratchy, as if he hadn't had anything to drink in weeks. And for all that he could no longer recall any moment before this one, it was quite possible he hadn't.
Kallian pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth in an expression that was as familiar to Zevran as the moon, and nodded. "She is."
Zevran could only blink. So that was what it meant to have the floor fall out from under you. As he grasped a hold of the chair in front of him, he found the dizziness that overtook him to be a distinctly uncomfortable sensation.
On to Chapter 6!
Author: skybound2
Characters: Fem!City-Elf PC (Kallian Tabris), Sten, Zevran, and Alistair (the overall fic is Zevran/Tabris with Sten and some others tossed in. Liberally, at times. References Alistair/Tabris and Zevran/Other.)
Word Count: ~3600 (this chapter; ~19300 so far)
Rating: T
Summary: Heroes have problems too. That's why they need friends. In this bit: Zevran makes his way to Seheron, and meets up with Tabris.
Spoilers: Through end game.
Author's Note: Now that my ficathon is all posted, I can get back to my regularly scheduled WIP. Also, this chapter gave me a devil of a time, I'll tell you. Sorry for the long delay folks. I suspect there will be another update this week. So don't hate me! This story can also be found at FFN. Many, many thanks to pennydreadful for the beta!!!
Previously: (On LJ)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Interlude (the First)
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Denerim: Fourteen Months after the Fall of the Archdemon
Shianni had been surprisingly unhelpful. Well, at least as far as she her words were concerned. For someone as skilled in body language as Zevran, Shianni's body had spoken much more loudly than her tongue ever could.
Zevran had made a point of visiting with Kallian's cousin at least twice every fortnight since he had taken up residence in Denerim. There was, after all, only so many hours in a day he could entertain himself by verbally torturing Alistair, or flitting from bed to bed (or to the occasional desk or bath) with the lovely bed-partners he had collected since he'd planted roots. And visiting with Cyrion and Shianni always left him feeling a bit more refreshed.
Not only was it enjoyable to spend time with elves that were not meek servants, but it was wonderful to spend time with her family. He had gotten on well enough with Cyrion when they first met, and Shianni was a delicious fire-cracker. (Not that she had ever succumbed to his advances; he suspected that he might actually have more of a chance bedding the king then Kallian's cousin, for all the interest she seemed to show in him.)
While Zevran hadn't really believed that Shianni would be able to provide him with any overly useful bit of information, he had hoped that she could shed some light on Kallian's choices. As he had suspected, she'd been in fairly regular contact with her cousin via letters.
The red-head had avoided eye contact with Zevran for nearly the entire duration of the conversation, which wasn't very long to begin with, "I'm sorry, Zevran, but I really am running quite late. Perhaps we could get together for lunch, or perhaps dinner, nearer to the end of the week. I don't have much news to give you about Kallian - but, we could catch up. I'm certain that Soris and Cyrion would love to speak with you again as well."
He'd managed to avoid giving an answer regarding the dinner, and watched as she near scampered out of the room, but not before giving him a pitying look.
The woman was hiding something, something which she felt both stressed and weighed down by; but try as he might, he couldn't breach her defenses.
If he'd had no luck with her, he was positive that his luck with Cyrion would have been even worse.
Wholly unsatisfied, but not wishing to delay any longer, Zevran packed what few belongings he deemed worthy enough to bog him down, and skipped out of the city on the next barge heading for the Free Marches. From there, he made his way, slowly but steadily, into Antiva.
Antiva: Eighteen Months after the Fall of the Archdemon
The change in scenery as he entered his homelands acted as a tonic for a troubled soul. He hadn't quite realized how much he had longed for Antiva while he was away. It was simply not something he dwelled overly long on, not when there were so many more interesting ways to spend his days and nights.
Being forced to make the last portion of his journey home by land had taken a great deal longer than he would have liked, and by the time he arrived in Antiva City, he was completely drained and travel-weary. And wanted nothing more than a warm, overly-large, bed and a hot bath. Not necessarily in that order. Luckily, he knew just the place to find both; and happily enough, it came with plenty of companionship as well.
Over the next few days, he found himself reveling in the sights and sounds and tastes of his homeland. The air was rich with caramel and leather. The women and men, dashing and devious in equal measure. And now that he had something to compare it to, he could clearly see how much the blight had ravaged Ferelden. For here, in Antiva, the world was vibrant, lively. There was character to be found everywhere you turned. Even the ramshackle buildings in the seedier portions of towns were bursting with it. There was a subtle joy to be found in these familiar haunts, and the urge to stay in lieu of pressing on was a strong one.
He probably should have anticipated the less than stellar welcome the Crows would have in store for him, however, and taken precautions. Living in Ferelden for so long had clearly dulled his sense of treachery.
It took him a number of months, and not a little spilt blood (mostly not his), along with a sizable amount of gold (mostly Alistair's), before Zevran had been able to get passage out of Antiva.
He left a considerable hole in the Crow infrastructure by way of a parting gift.
Seheron: Twenty-two Months after the Fall of the Archdemon
In an exceedingly rare case of luck, Zevran's ship arrived in port just a few scant hours behind another, larger vessel. A vessel with an over-sized cargo hold, and several blades-for-hire guarding the lowered planks.
Most importantly, however, were the scattered men milling upon the docks, two of which sported shields emblazoned with the Grey Warden's crest.
While there was the slightest of chances they were for here for a reason entirely separate from his own, Zevran had to acknowledge that this was rather unlikely.
If they were in fact here for Kallian, however, the small size of their band was at least somewhat heartening. They could not seriously mean to take her by force with such a small number.
If that was their plan, then they were in for quite the surprise. This was a situation that he could work with.
~~~\/~~~
Zevran blended into the shadows seamlessly. The skill was second nature to him now, and one which he was careful to never allow to rust. One must always take care of one's weapons after all.
He followed, several paces behind, taking in the nervous twitches and gestures of an elf, and the darting eyes of a (not quite careful enough) Warden as he followed. Though Zevran had never before been to Seheron, it was obvious that the other elf at least had. His steps were sure, if shaky, and he did not hesitate at any turn.
Before long, Zevran found himself, tucked down behind a pulling cart, well masked by stealth, and the shadows cast by the noon-day sun, in a perfect position to see the Warden fall back into a similarly hidden position, and the elf pressed forward, tugging on the bag slung low over one hip. Zevran's hand twitched over one of his concealed daggers, making certain it was well within reach. Just in case.
Despite the fact that it was only logical that the house they were perched in front of would belong to Kallian, Zevran was still wholly unprepared for the range of emotions that the sight of her smiling countenance opening the door caused inside him.
Trepidation. Longing. Frustration.
Joy.
A slow warmth began to build in him as he watched her smile at the other elf in greeting. The sound of her voice amplified in Zevran's long-deprived ears.
"Yes, can I help you?"
"Are you the Warden Tabris?"
"Depends on who's asking."
Ah, how I have missed that curt tone. Truly, he had not realized how much until that very moment. Watching her good humor towards the messenger fade, and be replaced by annoyance, and then - oddly - relief. Zevran was momentarily puzzled until her words finally registered. Ahhh, So Alistair's subtle machinations to keep the Warden's away from our Tabris failed some time ago. I wonder if the poor fool is still sending his false leads? If only the Good King had been amendable to Zevran's suggestion of a binding. Or any of his suggestions at all, really, besides sending notes.
"I see. Now tell me, did they explain to you just what it tastes like when you swallow your own tongue?"
Oh, Kallian. What a dazzling whirlwind you would be if let loose in Antiva...
Apparently, the threat to the messenger's life is quite enough for the shadow skulking Grey Warden from the docks, for he chose that time to intercede. Had Kallian not looked so undeniably menacing at that moment, eyes ablaze, and arms crossed, Zevran might have interfered. As it was, he was delighted merely to watch. And wait.
The mabari at her heels was soon joined by a very familiar qunari, standing just a step behind the woman of everyone's interest, talking in low tones so that the Antivan could not quite hear. There was a brief jab of ice in Zevran's heart when he noted the other man, but it was gone so quickly, that it was barely worth noting.
The next word's from Kallian's mouth sent the world tumbling out from under him however. A child? She has a child? Shianni, you are a better liar than I have given you credit for... His eyes darted to the qunari's face searching, disbelieving, and then (finally) closed briefly with relief.
So, the child was not Sten's. And, over a year old, it would seem. The vague timeline was little use for clarification on who the father might be, however. Assuming a normal birth, that could mean that the child had been conceived anytime from two months prior to the battle with the Archdemon, until several months after. There was simply no way to know unless she chose to impart that wisdom on the Orlesian questioning her. And judging by the scowl on her face, Zevran did not think that likely to occur.
As quick as it had appeared, the scowl was dropped, to be replaced by the gentle chewing of her lower lip. Zevran's whole body nearly sighed with relief at seeing the familiar gesture.
"How long before your ship leaves?"
What?! She could not possibly be serious. Was she actually planning to travel to Weisshaupt? What was the purpose of all of this deception if she was just going to give in at the first bit of pressure?
"We can be ready to depart in three days time. If that would suit? We need to restock, and there is some business we must attend to with the Arishok as well. Once that is done, well..." The Orlesian's voice trailed off, but Zevran could see the tension still holding him. The man was definitely weaving a tale. A last minute one, if the hesitation in his voice was anything to go on. But what is the purpose if she is so willing to go?
She nodded. "That should be fine."
There was a shift to the Orlesian's stance that set off alarms in Zevran's mind. His hand closed around his dagger, and he took on step forward, preparing to strike should the need arise. No sooner had he done so, however, then the other man relaxed his form, and Zevran fell back to the shadows.
There was no immediate threat, but something was off about the Orlesian. There was some bit of information that he was privy to, and which he was deliberately not imparting. Something which he attempted to cover up via lofty compliments and platitudes.
To his credit, he did appear to do so successfully. Either Kallian was too distracted, or she was slipping. Both options were equally poor signs.
"You may ask for me. My name is Declan." Oh, Zevran would be asking, that was for certain.
He waited, silent as a wraith, and watched as the messenger and the Warden retreated at a brisk pace. The other elf attempted to question the Warden, but was swiftly silenced. The smart choice at that moment would have been to follow the pair, and discern want he could about their intentions. All of Zevran's training and skills screamed for him to do so. There was no logical reason for him to walk up to Kallian's door and rap on the wood panel instead. Absolutely no logical reason at all.
Perhaps Zevran had spent more time with Alistair than was advisable, for it was exactly the sort of thing that the bastard King would do.
The door swung wide, her irritated voice echoing over the threshold. "This better be goo-"
"Ahh, how I have missed that look of annoyance, my dear Grey Warden." The smile that stole across Zevran's face was genuine. It had been far too long since he had stood before her.
It would have been impossible to miss how all the color drained from her sun-kissed face, or the way her hands fell like lead by her side. It chilled him considerably. Was the sight of him at her door sincerely so much more daunting than the Warden's that had just passed? "Zevran?"
Never one to let an opportunity to touch her pass him by, Zevran bowed deeply at the waist, and grabbed one hand as he rose. His lips tingled where they caressed her skin. "You were expecting someone else, I presume?"
Color returned to her cheeks full-force as he let her hand slip, somewhat regretfully from his hold. "I - what are you...how did you...I can't believe..." She stuttered and stammered all over her words, seemingly bewildered.
While he had not been expecting her to greet his arrival with trumpets or fanfare, neither had he expected her to seem so lost at his mere presence. A part of him yearned for the easy camaraderie they had once shared, while another part of him (the part that would never admit to the bitter feelings of rejectionhe felt) wanted to revel in her discomfort. The former won. This round at least.
He let go of a laugh, and leaned his body against the entry, one ankle crossed over the other so that his foot just barely touched hers. "I do not believe I have ever had the pleasure of seeing you so tongue-tied before, Warden. Well, apart from once." He let his eyes dart down her body, enjoying the way the dress that she wore (a garment he never imagined to see her in) fitted around her curves, before locking them on the blue-depths that had so mesmerized him once upon a time.
The blush that had previously stained her cheeks doubled, if only for a moment, before she seemed to catch herself in his stare. "I see you haven't changed a bit, Zev." His nickname on her lips set his blood briefly aflame.
"One does not alter perfection, my lovely Warden." This time the blush was bashful, nearly as sweet as the crystalline laugh that accompanied it, it was a wonder to behold. "I do believe you were trying to ask me why I was here, yes? Perhaps we can discuss the particulars from within your home?"
"Oh. Oh! Oh, yes. Please - uh, please come in." The expression on her face was curious. Her emotions flickered almost too quickly for Zevran to notice, but he still was able to perceive the undercurrent of fear in her eyes. His own defenses began to rise, subconsciously, as a result.
She let him pass through the door, closing it slowly behind her. He took a moment to smile crookedly at Sten, who had as yet not spoken a word (not so unusual), and was surprised when the large man greeted him with a slight bow in return, his violet eyes as off-putting as ever. Although perhaps a bit more so now than before, as they seemed to be gauging Zevran on a level that the qunari had never before deemed Zevran worthy of; he had seen the stare directed at Alistair a time or two in the past however.
How very interesting.
Zevran swiftly took in his surroundings: small, humble, but homey. There was an elevated chair with a tray strapped to it, a tipped over bowl of some sort of gruel decorated its surface. A feeding stool for Kallian's child, no doubt. There were small toys scattered about, but overall the room was clean. Orderly. A painting that Zevran recognized decorated one wall; overall the home seemed to suit both Kallian and Sten.
He was entirely uncertain how to feel about that.
He turned, just in time to see Kallian pull back from the door, the fact that she must have had her forehead pressed against it seconds before did not pass him by. His feelings of unease were beginning to grow at exponential rates.
"So, Zev. What brings you all the way to Seheron?" She moved, slowly away from the door, and crossed to the other side of the small space, picking up things as she went. He watched her, a hawk's eye. The tremble in her hands belying the steadiness of her words.
Sten scoffed. Her question seemingly as ridiculous to him as it was unnecessary to Zev. "Hmm, I could claim that I was merely passing through, but such an ugly lie that would be. In truth, I have spent much longer in Ferelden with the Good King," And here, her hands paused in their movements for just a moment; quickly, she moved forward and grabbed for a fallen sock, "than I had ever intended. So I decided that a return trip to Antiva was in order, but...circumstances there are less than ideal at the moment. As it turned out, there was a boat leaving precisely when I was, bound for these lands. A rather serendipitous turn of events, I should say."
This time it was a snort that passed from Sten, as he crossed his arms and leaned back on the wall beside the painting. "Indeed."
Zevran tossed a smirk at Sten. A raised eyebrow was his reward. Breathing in deep, he stepped forward and placed a hand over Kallian's where it clutched at the sock. "It has been too long, my friend."
Her eyes, which had been scattered and nervous since his arrival, warmed a bit as they looked at him. He felt some of the knots tied about him loosen, ever so gently.
A light scuffle sounded from the room off the left of the small kitchen, followed by a familiar 'woof' that made Zevran smile in memory. A moment later the door, which had been slightly ajar, was pushed further open by the hulking beast of a mabari. While he had of course taken note of the hound from his spy-perch outside, he saw no reason to tip his hand just yet and reveal his earlier presence. "Ahh, I see Sten has not had you entirely to himself after all." Zevran's head tilted as the dog meandered slowly out of the other room. "Although, your pup does not appeared to have fared well."
Kallian looked confused, as she glanced over towards the dog, who had stopped in the doorway momentarily, head turned behind him. "What do you mean?"
Turned as his head was now, the dog looked as if he was nipping at his own hind quarters. "He appears to be limping."
"What?" And this time she turned fully, her hand falling away from Zevran, and took a step towards the mabari in concern. She came to a stiff halt, however, when the dog pulled forth out of the room, a small toddling child clutching the fur of the hound's hindquarters.
A small elven child.
A small, blonde, elven child.
Zevran's brain began churning over the facts as fast as he could. His eyes darted over the little girl's features as she grappled with the beast's fur, using him as a walking stick as she waddled on small unclothed feet across the floor boards. Zevran felt his entire body seize up when she turned eerily familiar amber eyes (that were just a tad oversized for her head) on him for a moment, before passing him by and focusing on Sten. At which point she smiled a dazzling, tiny-toothed smile and Zevran's heart started beating again.
She relinquished her hold on the pup in favor of tossing both hands up at the qunari. "Sven, story!"
Sten glanced from the child, over to Kallian, his unblinking gaze met Zevran's for less than a moment, before he bent down and swooped the child up into his arms. "An excellent plan, Imekari. " The sound of the child's tinkling laughter filled the room. With nary a glance back, Sten exited the kitchen and entered the room the child and mabari had vacated. He left the door slightly open behind them.
A bucket of ice-water. That was what it felt like to Zevran. He was drenched in cold. The child was small, beautiful. She had Kallian's smile - brighter than any sun. And she was...the child undeniably was...
"Mine. She's mine." His voice was dry, his throat scratchy, as if he hadn't had anything to drink in weeks. And for all that he could no longer recall any moment before this one, it was quite possible he hadn't.
Kallian pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth in an expression that was as familiar to Zevran as the moon, and nodded. "She is."
Zevran could only blink. So that was what it meant to have the floor fall out from under you. As he grasped a hold of the chair in front of him, he found the dizziness that overtook him to be a distinctly uncomfortable sensation.
On to Chapter 6!