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wild-houseplant · 1 year

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Have Warden, Will Travel-- Chapter 15

Gosh, I’m much better at churning these out quicker when the chapters are only 3500 words. Go figure. Anyway, the gang are now in the tower, meeting Tranquil friends and Wynne’s making lyrium cocktails aplenty. Big content warnings for blood, injury, gore, death, murder. If you think of any others lmk! Full chapter under the cut, but AO3 is here if’n you prefer :) Hope you’re having a gorgeous day!! Please drink your fluids :) :)

The first thing Zevran heard upon passing through the now-barrierless entryway was a warning from Wynne that unknown beasts lurked the floors. He would have taken it in his stride if she hadn’t made it expressly clear that the beasts were unknown to her. No wonder Rhodri had waylaid them a moment to say a quick goodbye to the children.

The second thing he heard was shrieks, suspiciously similar to the fire blob from before. And then, because life never could allow him to suffer one thing at a time, a chorus of growls started up.

He glanced around. The vaulted stone ceiling was dizzyingly high above them, and tall rows of handsome bookshelves surrounded them on all sides but one. If the half the tomes weren’t plastered with mage entrails, Zevran might have availed himself of a few to sell on the outside for a handsome sum.

Assuming he made it out at all, of course.

The party, following the sound, hastened past row after row of bookshelves until the bastard creatures were in view. The fire blob, he recognised well enough, but Wynne’s impassioned, “Maker’s mercy!” suggested its four companions, black and toothsome, were unfamiliar.

Well, it was either that, or the way they were crowded around a greying Templar corpse and making it stretch and swell and…

Zevran squinted, drawing his knives. “Are they making that body into… one of them?”

He got no answer from the mages, who were already at work magicking the creatures into oblivion. Between the two, Wynne cast more steadily. Some of the spell invariably leaked into the environment before it could reach the target, but between that and the Warden’s everything-nothing swings, it was eminently superior.

Wynne also had an absolutely magnificent bosom. If the truth was known, so far as he could see, she had an absolutely magnificent everything, and those eye-catching red robes of hers drew the eye to all of it.

Oh, and Alistair. For all his mercurial moods, the man was food for the eyes, and an absolute wonder with that sword. The speed with which he darted behind the fire blob and sliced its head off belied his immense bulk, and the burst of electricity that came with the act made a delighted ‘ooh!’ fall out of Zevran before he could stop himself. Not least because the sword came out intact; Zevran had been concerned the heat might melt the blades.

After seeing the ravishing Templar-Warden in action, everything seemed eminently more doable now. Alistair was slower than he, the Warden nowhere near as cunning, Wynne was busy with spellcasting and Leliana had a clear preference for archery. That made the perfect niche for an assassin.

Zevran chuckled delightedly and slipped into stealth, passing the rest of the party unseen. Rhodri had her back to him, seemingly oblivious to another of the fire blobs approaching from behind the shelves. With a grin, he zipped behind it and– carefully– swiped his blades across its neck. The radiating heat made his leathers burn sweetly, just a mite hotter than the Antivan sun at its worst. He almost regretted not dragging it out as it melted into nothingness at his feet.

And that ended it. The other things died (the semi-Templar included), and the mages sagged a little, both red-faced and gasping.

“You need lyrium,” Alistair said to them pointedly.

Wynne nodded, panting. “We do,” she said. “I have none, though. Please, if you see any, give it to us.”

“We will need to scour the rooms,” Rhodri huffed. “Open all chests and wardrobes. Anything that looks private is fair game now.”

Leliana approached, holding out a small piece of paper. “I found this on one of the bodies.”

Wynne took it, looked over it, and closed her eyes. “I was worried this might be the case,” she sighed.

When the paper went to Rhodri, she read it aloud: “‘Uldred will show us the way. Finally, recognition within the Circle and freedom from the scornful eye of the Templars. We will not be shunned. Be ready.’” She threw it on the ground and spat on it.

“Rhodri.” Wynne shook her head at her. “Save your anger for later.”

The Warden straightened, nodding once. “Onward, then.”

‘Onward,’ as it happened, meant taking a flight of stairs up and passing through a room of the same beasts as before, only these ones exploded on impact. A burst of fire bathed everything, mercifully brief enough that nothing was properly damaged. Zevran touched a hand to his face, sighing with relief to find that nothing came away with his fingers.

Up another flight of stairs, they passed into a large, empty space. A small antechamber was built into the middle, all stone and decorative wrought iron except for the opening in the front. Something was lurking. Its footsteps were barely audible, even to Zevran. Not trusting his human companions to have heard it, he hummed and touched the Warden’s arm.

“Be careful,” he said in a hush. “We are not alone here.”

“Where is the sound coming from, Zev?” Rhodri asked quietly.

He pointed with his nose in the direction of the hub. “In there, I think.”

Weapons were fidgeted with as the party drew closer.

“We will need to go into the stockroom either way,” Wynne murmured. “There should at least be some lyrium dust in there, if not potions proper.”

From Zevran’s right, Rhodri shuddered softly. He pretended not to hear it.

When they had a clear view inside the stockroom, a pale human with a red Andrastian sunburst on his forehead stood in the middle of the room. His arms hung listlessly at his sides; if Zevran didn’t know better, he’d have guessed the fellow had been staring at the wall the entire time.

The mages both gasped. “Owain!”

The man turned and regarded them expressionlessly, even as Rhodri hurried over and stood directly in front of him.

The Warden appeared unperturbed by the complete lack of emotion in him. How, Zevran couldn’t imagine; it was all he could do not to put a league of space between him and the man. But she– both mages, in fact, looked relieved to see him.

“Hello,” he said blankly.

Rhodri gave him a weak smile. “Hello, Owain. Are you injured anywhere?”

“No.” He gestured mechanically at the interior, which was a mess of papers and shattered glass. “Please do not come in any further into the stockroom. I was trying to tidy up, but I still have not been able to get it into a state fit to be seen.”

“I… don’t think cleaning is important right now,” Leliana said worriedly. “Aren’t you frightened, Owain?”

Owain gazed at Leliana, who took a step backward. “I am one of the Tranquil,” he said calmly. “My emotions were taken from me a long time ago, but I know my situation is not ideal. I am defenceless, and if an abomination found me, I would surely perish.”

The Sister’s mouth fell open. Zevran found himself resisting the urge to do the same. Guilt squirmed in his guts for the revulsion he couldn’t pinpoint, and it somehow re-emerged as pity. The Crows had often drilled in the virtues of emotionlessness, of maintaining a cerebral outlook in all circumstances, and he couldn’t help wondering what they would think if they saw this man.

Rhodri raised her hand a little to get Owain’s attention again. “We need to get you somewhere safe,” she urged. “Do you know if anyone else is alive right now?”

“Yes.” Owain pointed a finger further inside. “Pharamond is behind those shelves. Nobody else.”

Her eyes widened. “Pharamond,” she whispered, and bolted past him.

Owain, repeating his request that they not venture further in, trailed after the party as they followed after her. Inside, a tall elven man surveyed the shelves with an empty face, pen and clipboard in hand. A moment passed before he turned in the direction of the noise they had made, revealing the same adornment on his forehead; Rhodri stopped dead.

“Oh, Pharamond,” she breathed.

Pharamond regarded her with the same permanently blank look Owain had, and nodded. “Yes,” he said serenely. “I am Pharamond. I did not think you would forget me, Rhodri.”

Her mouth pulled down at the corners ever-so-briefly. “Never. You’re one of my best friends.”

Pharamond said nothing; she drew in a deep breath and let it out again. “We need to get you and Owain to safety right now. The other survivors are in the library annexe, waiting for us to clear the abominations out.”

“We tried to go to that door,” Owain said from behind, “but upon seeing a barrier, we returned to the stockroom to continue working.”

“Owain!” Wynne looked horrified. “You should have said something! I would have opened the door for you.”

Zevran chewed his lip as the Tranquil took this telling-off with a calm blink.

“The stockroom is familiar,” he replied. “I would prefer to stay here. I would prefer the Tower returned to the way it was.”

“Perhaps Niall will succeed,” Pharamond said, seemingly to no-one in particular.

Wynne frowned. “Niall? Succeed with what?”

“We do not know. He came into the stockroom with some others and took the Litany of Adralla.” Pharamond pointed at the top of the bookshelf slightly to his left. “It is normally kept there.”

The senior mage pinched her brow between her fingers. “As I feared then. The Litany is used to prevent mind control from blood magic. Oh, dear…”

Rhodri put a hand on Wynne’s elbow. “Come, then. Let’s take these two back and look for some supplies.”

It took cajoling from both mages before Owain and Pharamond agreed to be escorted to the library annexe. The Warden insisted they be accompanied the entire way in case something nasty was loitering unseen between the shelves.

“When,” Rhodri hissed to Wynne as the party made their way back to the stockroom, “was he made Tranquil?”

Wynne sighed. “Not long after you left, I believe. I didn’t know Pharamond well, but he did have a temper on him…”

“So does Marie!” she protested. “Worse than Pharamond’s! Did they make her Tranquil?”

“I do not know the story, Rhodri,” the woman replied wearily. “And I believe Marie is dead, but at the time of her death, no, she was not Tranquil. Now come, help me find some concentration and distillation agents…”

Wynne paused and pointed at Alistair, Leliana, and Zevran. “You three, please look for lyrium dust. Dark red powder, kept in a glass vial the size of your hand.” She raised an eyebrow. “I am not sure if it needs to be said, but do not open or touch the contents of any of the vials. They can be incredibly dangerous.”

Alistair chuckled. “I don’t think we’d be game to.”

“Mmm,” Zevran smirked. “I, for one, am happy not to be turned into a toad from touching some mysterious ingredient.”

She took the remarks with a wry smile and left them to it.

The Templar let out a sigh as they scanned the shelves. “Just when I thought I was shot of ever having to touch the stuff…”

“You never handled it it?” Leliana asked, taking a vial and holding it closer to the weak sunlight to inspect the contents.

“Mm-mm. Chantry doesn’t even let you see it ‘til you’ve finished training. Duncan conscripted me right before they were going to make me take my first swig of it.”

Zevran hummed thoughtfully. “Did they ever say what it tastes like?”

“Tastes like it smells, apparently. Lightning-struck earth is the descriptor everyone used.” Alistair watched him beadily from the corner of his eye. “Don’t drink it. Or steal it.”

“Me?” he touched a hand to his chest. “I would not dream of it.”

If the Templar had planned to snip something back, it was lost as Rhodri drew up near him and rested her hands on his shoulders. He turned and gave her a small smile.

“‘Ello,” he murmured affectionately. “Any luck?”

The Warden nodded. “Found both agents. I was coming to check on your progress here. No sign of the lyrium dust?”

Leliana squinted at the vial in her hand. “I… can’t read the writing on this,” she said.

“Mmm? May I look at…? Ah. Yes, this is it.” Rhodri’s face hardened. With a quiet issue of thanks, she took the dust to Wynne, who was already preparing several flasks with the other liquids. Wynne swirled the lyrium dust vial and inspected the small, red cloud climbing its way up to the stopper. Appearing satisfied, she waited until it had settled to remove the stopper, and began tipping a little down the neck of a flask.

When the dust hit the liquid, a burst of white light passed through the stockroom like a flash of lightning. In the returning dimness, the bottle’s contents now glowed a far deeper blue than the aquamarine of the lyrium Rhodri had kept in her tent.

“You’re afflicted, Rhodri,” Wynne said after the third flask was ready. “Isn’t that so?”

“I am.”

“Mid-concentration, then?”

Rhodri’s grip tightened on her staff. “If you please.”

Wynne looked over her shoulder. “If you would rather avoid drinking it, I could try to cast a mana regeneration spell–”

“Thank you, no.” the Warden shook her head. “This could be the last of the lyrium, and we can’t waste it on inefficient spells. Much better to drink it and do a small healing spell or two after.”

Alistair winced. His mouth opened, and as Rhodri’s eyes fell on him, he closed it again. With a nod, Wynne handed her two of the paler flasks and took a darker one for herself.

“Your very good health, then,” she said, clinking the bottles gently and necking her own serve in a few gulps. Zevran, unable to resist himself, watched on in fascination as she took a deep sigh and stood straighter. A revitalised glow crept into her cheeks; she smacked her lips with a gentle frown.

“Tasty?” Zevran asked with a grin.

Wynne raised an eyebrow and gently wafted the flask an arm’s length away from his face.

He sneezed.

“Oh,” he groaned, regretting his cheek as a metallic taste crept into the back of his throat. “Lightning-struck earth. Alistair was right.”

“He was,” she said. Her crispness belied the small curve in her mouth.

Wynne turned to Rhodri. “I can cast as needed. Start when you wish.”

With a nod, Rhodri turned to the others. “Please go and wait on the other side of the shelves,” she indicated the area where they had found Owain. “Come back if you hear or see anything approaching.”

The three of them traipsed away; Zevran wondered the point of asking them to do that, as though a stock-shelf afforded any real privacy. Rhodri’s instructions that Wynne cast only after the entire bottle was gone was as audible as it would have been had they been in plain view.

“I will cast if I think you need it,” Wynne said firmly.

“Only if I lose more than a cup of blood.”

Wynne tsked softly. “Drink, Rhodri, if you must.”

Zevran counted three gulps, each one slower coming than the next, before she descended into fitful, stifled coughing.

“Keep calm, and take a deep breath. If it’s only a little blood, swallow it if you can.”

A gasp was attempted. Blood–he knew it was blood– purled in her throat like she was drowning in it, and Zevran was a wretched, teary-eyed fool for thinking of her.

Taliesen grinned at Zevran from his sprawl on top of the crates. He spun the dagger in his hand with a keen flick of the wrist.

“Not a bad idea, was it, getting her to meet us here?”

Zevran flicked his eyebrows once in agreement. “I suppose I will be buying the drinks tonight, no?”

“Too right you will be.” Taliesen’s eyes, rich and dark, glimmered wildly. “You ready?”

He hummed in the affirmative; the apparently lacklustre response evoking a frown in his partner. Taliesen eyed him beadily.

Zevran shrugged, surprising himself as he failed to manage a more vigorous addition. “In my defence,” he said, “I will be spending a fortune on prostitutes from now on.”

Taliesen scoffed. “And what am I, hmm? A decoration?” His nose wrinkled a little. “I know she’s your favourite–”

“Ooh, Taliesen!” Zevran chuckled, swallowing his climbing stomach back into place. “So territorial you are!” He smoothed a hand over his chest. “Don’t tell me you’re in love with me.”

Taliesen reached down where Zevran stood and cuffed him on the shoulder with surprising hardness. “Don’t be fucking stupid,” he spat. “If anything, I should be the one asking you, about her.”

Zevran raised an eyebrow, resisting the urge to rub the aching spot, and forced another chuckle. “It was a joke, my friend. We both know there is only room for pleasure and death.” He sighed. “Perhaps if you would get a little softer in the belly, I might not need to go to the brothel after all.”

The knots in his guts untangled a little as Taliesen barked out a laugh, and then twisted back with double the tension as the door opened and Rinna sauntered in. He refused to find any familiarity in her smile or the wink she shot him. A mask was all it was, and he’d been a fool to think otherwise.

“What’s so funny, then, boys?” She swept a loose lock of hair out of her face– she never did mind errant strands, even when fighting–

Stop.

Zevran smirked and looked to Taliesen to answer. Rinna drew up beside them, pulling Zevran into a kiss.

His gorge rose as their lips met. Tricky bitch, nearly played him for a fool, and for how long? Like a lamb to the bloody slaughter. He could have screamed with relief when her tongue brushed over his mouth, only to pull away with an alarmed squeak.

Her arms left him; Zevran stepped back. Taliesen’s knife was already at her throat, and Rinna stood stock-still.

Taliesen bent down so his mouth was near her ear. “We know, darling,” he whispered. “Take her arms, Zevran.”

She gaped at him. “Zev–?”

With a quick sweep, Zevran made a light cut up Rinna’s calf. The poison on his dagger was only a mild thing, but she’d be immobilised in under a minute.

Her eyes welled with tears. “Know what?” she asked. “Why are you doing this?”

It was the continued acting that made Zevran angry. Admitting to it, fighting them– Maker, even the traditional Crow tactic of smiling smugly and saying nothing would have been less infuriating.

“Don’t play stupid, Rinnala,” he said coldly. “Did you truly think you would sell us out to that merchant without consequence? That we would not find out?”

“As though we don’t have eyes everywhere,” Taliesen hissed.

“Sell–?” she choked. “Sell the Crows out to our mark? Sell you out? Why would I do that?”

Zevran shrugged. “It is not for us to create an alibi for you. You did what you did, and now you pay the price.”

“N-no! Wait!”

Taliesen growled in frustration. “What?”

Her knees buckled until they touched the ground. “Look at me,” she pleaded. “Zev. Amor, look at me!”

He sighed and looked down at her. Impossibly brown eyes poured with tears, pinning him where he stood.

“I love you,” she creaked. “I love you so much. You know me, Zev. I would never!”

Zevran gave a loud, bitter laugh that made her flinch. He squatted down until they were eye level. “Even if that were true,” he sneered, “I do not care.” He waved a hand. “Do it, Taliesen, before she makes me vomit.”

Taliesen’s fingers fastened around her hair, and with one swift move, Rinna’s throat was opened. It was nowhere near his usual neatness, Zevran noticed: the blade had sliced too deeply, passing through her windpipe as well.

Rinna wailed, much to Taliesen’s delight, blowing blood all over the fucking place. He almost looked disappointed when she started to quieten. Her skin was going the shade of white Zevran had only seen on a fish’s belly, and the screams had died down to voiceless gurgles. Sweat beaded on her brow, and even as her breathing slowed, slowed, stopped, her eyes were trained on him. She didn’t look away for a second, and when Zevran realised his eyes hadn’t left hers either, he spat on her to atone.

A fresh bout of coughing almost made Zevran jump. He took the opportunity to turn away from Alistair and Leliana and carefully wiped under his eyes.

Wynne's voice took on an encouraging lilt. “Last mouthful… and done. Hold still while I-- there."

Rhodri’s gasps, for the first time in minutes, were unobstructed. There was a cheerful sort of clinking before the two mages emerged from their enclave, their hands full of lyrium flasks. The Warden’s face, though bright enough, was beaded with sweat, and the flash of teeth in her open, panting mouth was black with blood. She glanced at them, gestured forward, and walked on without a word.

#Have Warden Will Travel #HWWT #Want angst? I put Rinna's murder in here #come one come all and mope with meeeee #Rhodri Amell #Zevran #Dragon Age: Origins

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pisscrossiant · 2 months

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Dragon age origins ROMANCE Headcanons [part 1?]

Starting with my favorites to least favorites

Leliana

She is a major cuddler, she's constantly hugging, spooning, and kissing you when she gets the chance.

She always stays by your side during battle she's too worried to leave you alone in case you getting hurt.

She constantly has nightmares where you betray her like Marjolaine did, or where you are murdered by Marjolaine.

She loves playing with your hair, she'll put bows in it, she'll braid it, put it in pigtails or twin braids, if she's sitting next to you she'll reach over to your hair so she can twirl it in her fingers.

Zevran

He's big on aftercare, he'll make sure you're comfortable afterwards, make sure you're clean and warm, he'll get you food. It's one of his ways to show you how much he cares.

He loves PDA, he likes showing people that you're with him. Whether this is grabbing you by the waist, kissing you, or holding your hand, he finds someway to show his love.

He's had nightmares of you being in Rinna's place, or of Talisan killing you (this one's inspired by a post I saw)

He constantly hangs on you, he'll have his arms wrapped around your shoulders, holding you from behind and resting his head on your shoulder, wrapping his arm around your torso, anything he just hangs on you when y'all are doing anything together.

Morrigan

She has a hard time adjusting to being loved, she never experienced love from her mother or any other person so it takes a while for her to get used to you expressing your love for her.

Instead of holding your hand or holding your torso like the others, when walking she'll just walk very close to you. Even though you're together doesn't mean she constantly wants to be touched.

She's had thoughts of what could happen to you, you either dying at a darkspawns hand or dying when you slay the arch demon. She has thoughts like that constantly, she's terrified that is what will become of you one day.

She gets very possessive of you to people she doesn't know/doesn't like, she'll pretty much latch onto you and give terrifying glares to the person you're talking too.

Alistair

He gets so embarrassed when anyone mentions how cute you two are together, or how he looks at you. He'll turn into a stuttering mess if someone talks about your relationship.

He doesn't like PDA or anything besides holding hands and hugs, but behind closed doors He's attached to you, he's hugging you, kissing you, etc. He won't leave you alone.

He constantly lays awake at night thinking about how you could die at any moment, how you can die easily by a darkspawn if the camp is ambushed, how an assassin can take you out, how you will most likely die if you kill the arch demon. He doesn't get much sleep because of it.

He's very awkward, this is his first relationship after all, he doesn't know what to do when he's around you or how to act, he's honestly just a hot mess half the time.

Might make this into a series, I will gladly take any Headcanon requests if anyone has any prompts they want me to talk about!

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age: origins #dao #leliana dragon age #warden x leliana #zevran arainai #warden x zevran #morrigan dragon age #morrigan x warden #alistair theirin #warden x alistair #headcanons #dao headcanons

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ashenlavellan · 21 days

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Appreciation Post - Dragon Age: Origins... Zevran Arainai

After my brief appreciation post towards Kaidan Alenko of the ME series, I thought to myself - why not make thorough appreciation posts of my favorite Bioware characters (mainly romances?)

So, we'll start off at the beginning with Dragon Age - DA: Origins, and we'll begin with our devilishly handsome elven rogue, Zevran Arainai. ^.^

[Trigger Warning: mentions of suicidal thoughts/ideation]

Pre-DA: Origins

He did not have an easy life; his father passed, presumably to disease, when he had actually been assassinated by the Antivan Crows all along. After his father's death, before his birth, his mother had passed away shortly after he was born and she'd been forced into prostitution to pay off his father's debts.

Zevran and other elven orphans were raised by sex workers in the brothel that his mother had worked in until he was seven years old - he had learned certain mannerisms and skills that caught the eye of one of the guildmasters within the Antivan Crows - which is how he became Zevran Arainai, since the guildmaster belonged to House of Arainai.

When digging up further information, out of all of the elven orphans purchased, we find out that him and Taliesen were the only ones to survive the excruciating trials that the Antivan Crows had put them through. With time, and with the introduction of another elven orphan, Rinna, they honed their skills and became a deadly trio.

Shortly before DA: Origins

During the third conversation that we have with Zevran, we talk about the most painful mission that he had been involved in - we discover that him, Rinna, and Taliesen were tasked with a mission together. To sum it up, Taliesen had purposely framed Rinna so that Zevran would kill her - he found out that she hadn't betrayed them and expressed her affection towards Zevran with her dying breath, to which he had initially mocked her and didn't believe her.

He had realized that not only had she not betrayed his trust, but that he also had fallen for her and it was too late since he had murdered her - all for the sake that he had grown "soft," in Taliesen's words.

Zevran had accepted the task to murder the Grey Warden [the player] as he knew that such a skilled fighter who was deemed a nuisance to a regent wouldn't go down so easily and that he would accept this as not only penance, but his way of death.

He willingly accepted the mission with the hope that he would be killed. Zevran was suicidal and knew that he would have no chance of escape - he subtly mentions that had he survived, he would take matters into his own hands.

Romancing Zevran

Now, I will personally admit that when I first started playing DA: Origins, I mainly romanced Alistair and only once, did I romance Leliana.

Although I highly recommend their romances because of their depth and backgrounds, I will admit that when I first played I was in the mid-to later half of my teenage years. (so, think 16 - 18 years old).

Now that I'm reaching my mid-20s, I've come to appreciate and love the depth, background, and the romance that your character experiences with Zevran.

We all witness the flirtatious tendencies and advances, however, when you turn him down - he will back off. With his line of work and likely stuff that he was forced to do, he's well aware when such advances are not wanted and he respects that.

He's nicknamed as the "Master of Seduction," but there are surely moments where he's tasked with pleasing a target and he's subjected to harsh/cruel treatment. He also witnessed such behavior since he was raised in a brothel as a child and was around men and women who were likely treated as lesser-beings only for the pleasure of those who paid.

Zevran is aware that everyone has boundaries and lines not to cross and when he realizes that he's drawn to close, he will quickly rectify and make sure to never cross it again.

However, when you are direct with him and reciprocate that his advances are wanted, then he'll keep playing up the persona of seduction. Also - with how his personality is and depending on how open-minded your character is, if he suggests something that's not wanted, then he won't bring up the idea again. (example: the mention of a threesome with warden/zevran/isabela, or even warden/zevran/leliana).

Now, a lot of people knock on him for the initial encounter and if you have him in your party shortly after - he can't pick locks. Not unless you branch out the skill for him.

However, the intention as to why he lied was clear to me from the get-go...

Survival.

Now, you may also be wondering is that if he was feeling so suicidal and accepted the idea of death at the Warden's hands... why would he lie to survive?

When you talk with him [if you didn't instantly kill him and woke him up], you insinuate that you have more pressing matters to deal with than a bastard who betrayed his king and a possible civil war... You have a 5th Blight to stop and they're merely an obstacle of achieving victory over a national threat that could become international.

Now, he doesn't blatantly say so in the beginning other than the fact that he'd be acting upon the whim of a deadly sex god(dess), but we can read between the lines that this could be a means of redemption for him.

So yeah - Zevran Arainai is such a complex character pouring with depth, but some people simply write him off as a "flirtatious assassin," but that's simply because they don't bother to delve deeper into his background or, even his romance!

So yeah - this is expressing massive appreciation for Zevran Arainai as well as how meaningful his romance can be. I highly suggest that others give his romance a try, at least once! ^.^

#dragon age origins #dragon age #dragon age zevran #zevran arainai #appreciation post #appreciation post for zevran #appreciation posts by ash

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vigilskeep · 2 years

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me trying to figure out how zevran refers to rinna as an “elven lass” but world of thedas says she’s a royal bastard but dragon age lore says elves aren’t royalty so her father must be human but also they need to have two elven parents to be elves so how is she an elf

#rinna

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scribbledquillz · 1 year

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Your Fire Burns in My Veins

A Dragon Age: Origins Fanfic - Updated April 14th, 2023

Chapter 5 - An Unexpected Outcome

Summary:

"This was not the end meant for him. Life, stubborn and heedless as it was, had not seen fit to set him free despite his best efforts of escape, and damn him a coward but he did not have the strength to fight back against its grasp again."

When best laid plans go awry, both Zevran and Revka find themselves in the beginning of a tenuous alliance.

Oblivion ebbed away slowly, its embrace a tide drawn back in a gradual, unrelenting retreat. One by one Zevran’s senses floated back from the depths, only to catch haphazardly in his thoughts like scattered shells and bits of broken glass in the sand. Pain rose fastest from the darkness. A throbbing ache pulsing through the tangled web of sensation and weight he assumed to be his body. He pressed out through it, willed his mind back to some semblance of order through the fog in search of where and what and how.

He had not died, of that much he was certain. There was no paradise waiting for him alongside the Maker, but this hurt felt entirely too banal for it to be the work of some divine punishment, and he doubted very much that such things would come paired with the scent of mud and manure. Unconsciousness then, blunt and graceless as the blow which had sent him tumbling into it. He prodded along the edges of the pain, tasting iron as he traced back to its roots at the back of his head, along the curve of his jaw up into his nose. The needling made his mind swim, fresh agony sparking a roll of nausea deep in his gut as his last moments began to form in a muddied, disjointed string of images. Bared teeth and brilliant light. Steel claws. Death looming like a lover above him, his skin burning at their touch.

Rinna.

His mind seized the memory, clarity breaking through the cracks and splitting them wide in sudden violence. Her voice was barely an echo now, but it had come so easily to him then. As though she had been there, standing at his back with anger and anguish carving a scowl across her face, her disgust more cutting than any blade.

Is that truly what you want, Zev?

His hands were his own again, feeling returned enough to sense the damp earth beneath his fingers when they curled toward his fist. Blood surged, rushing through his head and ringing in his ears as realization sank in. This was not the end meant for him. Life, stubborn and heedless as it was, had not seen fit to set him free despite his best efforts of escape, and damn him a coward but he did not have the strength to fight back against its grasp again. Not yet. The wounds Rinna’s words had left behind were too raw. Whether because of the Maker’s will, the dead’s demand for greater penance or the simple, chaotic irony of chance, death had given its answer when it spat him back out from the Void. And he would not make the mistake of challenging it further this day.

Continue the story on AO3 or start from the beginning

#dragon age origins #dragon age: origins #dragon age #dragon age fanfiction #zevran arainai #revka tabris #zevwarden #zevka #your fire burns in my veins #lilou writes #i've been waiting for so long to get to this point in their story #and i'm so so genuinely thrilled to be here #and excited for what's in the future for them #thank you all for those of you who read my silly story about my silly favorites #it means the world <3

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quartzguts · 1 year

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Tag 9 people you want to get to know better

tagged by @rinn-e ages ago gomen for being tardy to the party

Three ships: askefinn, ardynoct, hannigram. all terrible slash ships 👌

First ever ship: hmm probably shadamy? i was baby then

Last song /album: somehow i only just listened to running up that hill by kate bush. because of rupaul’s drag race. why didn’t anyone tell me how hard this song fucks before. last album is dirt femme by tove lo

Last movie: uhhh i don’t watch a lot of movies so, i honestly can’t remember

Currently reading: just finished red dragon by thomas harris and looking to start silence of the lambs soon

Currently watching: vinland saga s2 and urusei yatsura (2022), the two most different anime in the world

Currently consuming: water?

Currently craving: death jkjk uhhh to be able to eat anything i want without gaining weight :’)

Tagging: rinnae u tagged most of who i was gonna tag already so in addition to the askefinn tumblr squad @ivorydice @biathelstan @viirazu and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it i guess! no pressure obviously

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zevraholics · 8 months

Note

can we include content of poly ships featuring zev?

Of course! We just ask that work features Zevran and at least one Grey Warden in a relationship. Some example poly ships that would be welcome in ZevWarden week:

Zevran/Female Tabris/Male Surana

Zevran/Male Mahariel/Morrigan

Zevran/Female Brosca/Original Female Character

While the organizers of this event enjoy other Dragon Age poly ships, works that are part of this event should not focus on Zevran with other non-Warden characters (ex. Zevran/Rinna/Taliesen or Zevran/Isabela/The Iron Bull). Other relationships can be mentioned or appear in the background, but the focus of this event is on ZevWarden.

Finally, we encourage you to tag your work with "polyamory" to make it easier for others to find. (And check out our full tag list here.)

#zevwarden week 2023 #thanks for the ask!

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ghostwise · 1 year

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can i count your rinna as an oc bc i'd love to hear more about her— philia 3, agape 5, philautia 4?

Ooh yes you absolutely can ask about Rinnala 🙌🏽 Thank you!

What qualities does your OC most value in a friend? Loyalty? Shared sense of humour? Or something else?

Rinnala has always tried to be pragmatic about companionship. It cannot be avoided, after all, and comes with plenty of advantages (and disadvantages)… so she considered relationships to be something to navigate with great care. Having been manipulated and misled in the past, she values honesty and loyalty from others. After leaving the Crows, she is tentatively branching out into forming friendships.

In fact, her need for connection motivates her into tracking down other Azul Contract orphans (it's not going great… turns out most people aren't up for betraying their life-long ideals because a random long-lost half-sister shows up and asks… oh well).

Does your OC find it easy to empathise with their enemies? Or do they see it as important to dehumanise them in order to combat them with sufficient determination?

She had to adjust to it, you know? Empathy has nothing to do with it. She could certainly empathize with her enemies, but it wouldn't affect her actions.

Feels like Crows try not to get too personally involved with things. A contract is a contract and her opting to not complete it just means she dies, and someone else finishes the job. An enemy today could be an ally tomorrow. Circumstances change.

This is quite fortunate for Zevran. She might've killed him otherwise.

Which of your OC's qualities makes them the most proud? Do they think more people should be like them in this regard? Or do they quite like being rare in possessing it?

Rinnala is a very proud woman all things considered. She's most proud of her intelligence; she considers it to be both innate and diligently maintained through effort and study. Realistically I think she's a bit classist. She may be a discarded ex-Crow but she is royal blood, damn it all…

#thank you sm!! my girl rinna... she is complex and doomed by the narrative but that's what fic is for #rinnala #dragon age

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mikilavellan · 8 months

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Zevran Playlist Song #1

Fearless Hero by Antonio Banderas & Hector Pereira

This song matches both the running joke the fandom has about Dragon Age basically being Shrek and the persona that Zevran puts on.

Who is your favorite fearless hero? Who is your favorite fearless hero?

Who's brave and ready for trouble? (You are, you are!) Ha ha! Who's so unbelievably humble? (You are, you are!)

Who is your favorite fearless hero? Who is your favorite fearless hero?

Who's the gato who rolls the dice? And gambles with his life? Who's never been touched by a blade?

//Zevran talks often about his luck in battle and supposedly blessed life. He would have the warden believe at first that he took on the job because he was certain he would not fail/received the assignment because he was the best of the crows//

Puss in Boots is never afraid

Who is your favorite fearless hero? Who is your favorite fearless hero? Ahaha, ohoho, ayayay!

He's the vein of justice! Stands up against evil! Fighting for the people And he's very good-looking!

Who is your favorite fearless hero? Who is your favorite fearless hero?

Chambo el gato Chambo el gato Chambo el gato Chambo el gato!

Who is your favorite fearless hero? Who is your favorite fearless hero? Who is your favorite fearless hero? Who is your favorite fearless hero?

Honrado (Honored) Victorioso (Victorious) Humilde (Humble) Poderoso (Powerful) Guerrero (Warrior) Lo más fuerte (the Strongest) Leyenda (Legend) A LEGEND FOR ALL!

Just like Puss, Zevran is ready to throw his life away and realizes at the critical moment that he does not actually want to die, setting him on a new course. Not to mention it's a fun opening song for any playlist!

His past with Rinna can be compared to Puss's with Kitty Softpaws, with the realization that their love actually meant something only once they have ruined his chance at it. They both get a second chance at trust again as their story progresses.

Uhhh imagine a cool scene where Zevran is running about during his time in the crows with his knives.

Next song

#zevran arainai #dragon age #dragon age origins spoilers #da:o #Knife Wife #character playlist

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jadewing-realms · 2 years

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zevwarden week - day 6

soooo i haven’t actually finished playing Inquisition yet, so if i have some plot threads crossed wrong, forgive me. i was just really feelin the angst jlfksdf

Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Inquisition

Title: ZevWarden Week, Day 6 - Death

Pairing: Zevran x male!Warden; Zevran Arainai x Salem Surana (x Leliana, poly!Warden referenced)

Word Count: 1,501

Death comes in many shapes and forms. As a Crow, Zevran had come to know them all, to the point they were as familiar as allies and just as reliable. But once he left the assassin’s life behind, Death made itself scarce. At least for a little while.

When it made itself known again, it returned with a face Zevran had forgotten entirely. One that made death a painfully slow, agonizingly inevitable downfall, and didn’t even leave him with the satisfaction of a funeral.

His Warden was simply... gone.

_______________

Death was an old, familiar friend for an assassin.

It was something Zevran had come to terms with on many different occasions - how easily things come to die. Life was so incredibly fragile, to be so easily snuffed out with such trivial things. A small knife. An inconvenient fall. A spider bite. An untreated wound.

For so long, back in Antiva, he awakened every morning knowing he could die that day. He had become so accustomed to the idea that making a joke of death was as easy as making one of life. It made others uncomfortable, and it made the inevitability of death less... terrifying, for fleeting moments at a time.

After Rinna... well, death had become something Zevran craved. The world was too dark, too unjust, too... too much. When he’d heard of the contract to kill the only two Grey Wardens left, knowing their infamy, he’d jumped at the chance. A certain death, only slightly less guaranteed than doing it himself.

Or so he thought.

His Grey Warden. Gods, that man... anyone else would have relished in the opportunity to off someone that tried to kill him and freely admitted to doing so. But of course, Zevran had to raise a blade against a man who thought living and aiding in the ending of a Blight to be far fairer punishment than death.

And every day since, Zevran found himself relieved that he did. Otherwise, he’d never have known the gentleness of his hand. The thrill of his wit. And oh, those smirking lips... softer than the scars would imply.

After the day that Salem Surana ended the blight with one final stroke of his sword, Zevran and Death grew apart. The former was far too busy living a life he never thought he’d enjoy. One with plenty of food, peaceful nights, daily affection, and frequent intimacy that meant far more than nights of wild, fleeting pleasure. He, Salem and Leliana... Death allowed them rest.

For a time.

But such peace can never be permanent.

The world was bound to fall into chaos again, be it thanks to some other such world-ending event as the last Blight, or to the slow, subtle erosion of his beloved Warden’s mind at the whims of the darkspawn blood that tainted his veins.

Even Alistair was surprised by the haste of the decline. Learning as he had of the deeper history across Ferelden, thanks to the stores of knowledge available to a king, he’d heard rumors of Wardens who endured Blights having their lives cut even shorter. That, in addition to what he could only guess was corrosion of Salem’s body due to regular use of blood-fueled magics, had to be the cause.

Through consequence of others’ making and his own, Salem was on a steep decline toward an early grave. And there seemed to be no stopping it. Death had once more begun to lurk close by.

There were still plenty of good days, however. Salem had bouts, episodes of nights fraught with sleepless terror and days passed in confused haze, but they always ended eventually. When those moments were passed, it was as if nothing had happened. Salem was himself again.

Zevran came to cherish those respites more than anything else in the world.

But even that would have its end.

There were whispers of a cure. A way to avoid the Wardens’ gruesome end. But such answers lied deep in Ferelden’s bones, and beyond, in the dens of other nations.

The three of them made vows to search the globe, until the solution could be found. For if it could... Death could be cheated.

Even if the odds were a thousand to one, Zevran would take them over staring Death in the face, unable to fight, as it slowly came to claim the one he loved.

Thus began a time of travels, long nights spent alone dreaming of the arms of his lovers and days longing to return to them. He sent letters when he could, and they sent their own in return when they could.

Neither Zevran nor Leliana failed to notice as Salem’s letters grew more and more infrequent.

And then ceased altogether.

The search shifted from seeking answers to finding Salem himself. Before long, it wasn’t just Zevran and Leliana searching either. Zevran’s world had turned on its head just months before the rest of the world followed. Wars and rumors of wars, uprisings and counter-efforts. Mages taking their stand against the Templars.

How Salem would have loved to see it.

He could have, had he stuck around to watch. Leliana would later write to Zevran of deeper plots unfolding. The Divine, the Right and Left Hands, something something Inquisition, he’d paid little attention to the finer details once he learned that the Divine had informants assigned to the same task he and Leliana had taken on of their own free will. The Divine herself was hunting for the Hero of Ferelden. A new Inquisition required a leader.

Zevran knew Salem would have been perfect for it. But they couldn’t find the d**ned man.

It wasn’t long after that that the world broke apart at the seams. The foundation itself seemed to be crumbling. Rifts torn through the fabric of space and reality itself, darkspawn and demons rampant once more. Echoes of Blights past with the promise of unprecedented disaster, the death of the Divine and hundreds of others at what was supposed to be a peace summit.

That was when Leliana ceased communications.

In the nights that followed, Zevran found himself praying, to anyone who might be listening, that the Hero of Ferelden would return. It wasn’t just his own personal wish anymore. He was sure hundreds of others still living who remembered the last Blight were sending the same pleas into the ether.

But nothing changed. He found no signs, even though a part of him had foolishly hoped that perhaps Salem would hear of the chaos and destruction occurring and make some noble, dramatic reappearance, standard raised with sword ready to lead them to victory like he once had.

Instead, the world - and Zevran - was left alone. Floundering in the wake of tragedy and imminent catastrophe.

He found himself in Orlais, dodging rumors of some new hero, some Andraste’s Chosen, and chasing the tail of yet another fleeting lead, this time seeking some woman named Fiona. In such a place of prestige and pomp, Zevran remembered a time in which he would have found it a necessity to sweep in and stir up trouble.

Instead, he worked alone, met contacts as needed but didn’t bother keeping them. He slept alone, renting cheap rooms with the only stipulation being that they had at least one window, so he could gaze up at the moon and hope against reason that somewhere out there, his Warden was looking up at the same view.

That foolish, childish habit had become a ritual, one Zevran used to stave off the simmering dread that all he was doing at this point was chasing a ghost.

He could feel it again, lurking in his steps. Death, that old friend. Not coming for him, not yet, no, it would never be so kind - even as he found himself beginning to wish for it again when the nights grew long, cold and lonely.

Death was simply observing. Watching from afar. And as lead after lead grew cold, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it had come with a message. One he refused to hear.

It whispered to him as he fell asleep. It said to hang up his cloak, cease his endless seeking. It had been so long, now; so long without word or sign. That never happened for no reason.

He knew the poor condition Salem was in when he left, it said. Could such a broken hero last so long on his own? Hold strong for so long against the beckoning of madness, the thirst of the darkness?

Had the Warden simply... died?

Lost, alone, just like Zevran was now. No one to see. No one to know.

Zevran had forgotten this face of Death. In the days he’d known it so well, he knew it by other masks - blood, contracts, mortal wounds, disease, hunger. He knew it by its ending most of all, by funeral rites, black processions and headstones.

This, though. This had to be the cruelest mask Death could wear.

The one where nothing happened. No blood, no body, no last words. No casket or grave marker to visit. The one where a person simply faded from existence, never to be heard of again. The quietest and loneliest Death.

And in the face of this Death, the world simply went on, leaving the few who remembered them not to mourn, but to forever wonder. Wonder if Death had truly come, or if there was still some desperate chance to save them.

Wonder if that hope was still worth clinging to. Or if it should die as well.

#zevwarden #zevwarden week 2022 #death #zevran arainai #zevran x warden #zevran x surana #salem surana #zevran x salem #zevran x salem x leliana #zevran x m!warden #thoughts about death #more introspection #thoughtful zevran #mentions of events from da2 and dai #pardon me while i just revel in angst #why do i do this to myself #my writing

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