Chapter Text
Kieran walked with his hands behind his back, eyes following Zevran’s gestures. He’d pointed at a tavern that had once been a brothel, a brothel that had once been a tavern, three safe houses, and the hovel where the best fence in the city lived as a girl. Kieran nodded along. He’d been to Starkhaven before, but he liked seeing it through Zevran’s eyes, a city full of adventure instead of stuffy Chantry tradition.
He let himself linger in the calm of it all. Despite the influx of refugees, Starkhaven remained a city, in all its familiarity. He rose early and joined Zevran at little shops and stalls he’d pointed out in previous days. They drank Antivan coffee and ate Orlesian pastries. Kieran even convinced Zevran to try a traditional Starkhaven blood pudding. He hadn’t liked it. Now, he asked questions about the tavern-turned brothel and was fed a stunning tale about a late-night escape in the back of a wagon. As he made it to freedom, the pair caught up with Elysse and Leliana.
Without her Chantry robes, one could be forgiven for not noticing her. Leliana still knew how to blend into a crowd. Elysse, however, could be nothing but the Griffon of Highever. Upon seeing Kieran, she pulled him into an embrace. She put her hands on either side of his face and pulled it down to plant a kiss on the top of his head. He towered over her now, a betrayal Elysse hadn’t forgiven. “It is good to see you too,” Kieran said. He turned to Leliana and gave a polite bow.
The women both looked at Zevran. Kieran still struggled to truly envision them all traveling together so long ago. The people he’d only known as his elders were once his age and greener than him, set on an impossible mission to save the world. Elysse had nothing but good things to say about Zevran. Zevran didn’t talk about her much at all.
The four of them walked through the city, and Zevran continued playing the tour guide. He spoke of architecture and alleyways. He’d killed at least ten people in this city. Kieran only half heard the conversation, instead focusing on how animated Zevran was, how electric he made the world feel. Elysse nudged him. “Are you even listening?” she asked.
“What? Sorry,” he said. “A lot on my mind.”
“It seems our sweet Kieran is easily distracted,” Zevran said. “You are before the most powerful women in Thedas! Now is when you should most pay attention.” Zevran winked, and Kieran wondered what his eyelashes tasted like.
A ridiculous thought, even for him, and yet he hoped for hints of sandalwood and breeze if he ever got to put his mouth on his eyes.
Zevran scrounged up a couple of loaves of bread, jam, and cheese, and the four of them sat in a quiet corner, ripping off pieces and eating. Kieran loved watching Zevran eat. He liked how Zevran’s fingers were so taut on the pieces of food and the gentle curve of his mouth as he opened it to take another bite. His eyes traced the outline of the elf’s white teeth.
Kieran made a mess of himself watching Zevran. Zevran looked up and met Kieran’s glance. Zevran laughed. “You really should learn table manners,” he said. “It is unbecoming for the potential future usurper to be covered in food crumbs.” Kieran blushed and wiped his face. Zevran laughed again, shaking his head. He took his thumb and ran it along the corner of Kieran’s mouth.
Kieran wondered if his heart could escape through his throat.
Zevran took his thumb and put it in his mouth, licking away the discarded jam. He gave Kieran a once-over. “Much better,” he said.
For a moment, tension and something like anger emitted from Elysse’s mind. Zevran and Kieran ate their food in silence. When Kieran focused, he could still feel the warmth of Zevran’s thumb on his face. He hoped he’d tasted good for him. Kieran tried to focus on his meal, but even now, the warmth of Zevran’s thigh beside him felt overwhelming. He noticed the ample space on either side of them; they didn’t need to touch, and yet they were. Like a coincidence, and yet it was perhaps the most intentional thing they’d done. Leliana stood up first. “We must be going,” she said, “Veda and Prince Vael await us.” Elysse nodded and joined her wife. When Zevran stood up, he put a hand on Kieran’s knee to help himself, then turned around for Kieran’s hand.
Maybe it wasn’t all in his head.
They walked to the war room and heard Prince Vael, Aveline, Leliana, and the Inquisitor. Debates rang back and forth: who should go where, who had authority, did any of it matter. Leliana spun her tale, masterfully curtailing any plans the Prince of Starkhaven may have had.
“You and Donnic shall remain in Starkhaven. You will coordinate with the captain of the guard. Donnic will send reports,” Inquisitor Adaar said to Aveline.
“Yes, ser,” Donnic replied.
“Alistair will remain in Ferelden. Denerim is lost, at least meaningfully. Everyone who can is now in Redcliffe. That will be where the line is held. Thom and I will be joining him there shortly. Elysse will go to Orzammar, as we said. Report on status and battle plans with King Bhelen and Prince Trian. I’ll trust you regarding the Joining,” she said.
Zevran demanded attention even here. “And where does that leave our young mage and myself, Inquisitor,” he asked. Kieran hoped it was remote, somewhere where he could get the elf alone and prove himself entirely man enough for the rolling stone.
“Kieran, I want you to travel to Wycome, Ostwick, Hercinia, and Markham. Inform their leaders of what is happening, and offer refuge. If possible, find contacts, people who can report back to Starkhaven. Rendezvous with Cassandra when you can,” she said. To be in cities then, ever surrounded by circumstance. Kieran nodded.
“If I may, Inquisitor,” Thom said, moving towards the table. “Sera and the Jennies have been based out of Hercinia for some time. It’s a flimsy network, but it is not meaningless.”
“Kieran, you remember Sera,” she said.
Kieran laughed. Sera had been the only person at Skyhold to treat him as a child. More than once they stole sweets from the kitchen, and more than once they’d been scolded by the Inquisition’s ambassador. “She is impossible to forget. I’ll find her. Zevran isn’t too elf-y, which will be a boon.”
Zevran smiled. “I am the exact correct amount of elf, I am simply Antivan first. Another blessing to the cause, as our charm is known across the continent,” he said.
“See what you can get from them,” Veda said. She took a step back and looked at the floor. This hadn’t been the most natural alliance, especially now with Prince Vael in the mix. Kieran watched the prince’s defeat weigh down on his shoulders. Had the world not been on fire, he might have even enjoyed it.
Veda stood up straight, and the room looked to her. Kieran watched as she transformed, truly the inquisitor in this moment. Her jaw tensed as she spoke. “Our goal is survival. You are to save as many lives as possible. If you lose a building and save 20 people, you save 20 people. You cannot hesitate. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Inquisitor,” everyone responded. A brief reprieve from the arguing.
Kieran kept his eyes on the Inquisitor. Even as Leliana and Prince Vael danced around oaths and allegiance, Veda looked so sure-footed. When Kieran looked beside him, Zevran beamed, enjoying the intrigue of it all. Kieran’s arms rested at his side, and he willed for their hands to brush. Instead, the tops of his fingers grazed Zevran’s exposed wrist.
“Can you show us to our chambers? Elysse and I will stay in the chantry, but the boys will need something in the palace with the others,” Leliana said. Elysse gestured, and Prince Vael escorted the four of them away.
They stopped first at a room for Kieran and Zevran. “I do apologize for the bunking situation,” the prince said, “with so many in Starkhaven, we’ve had to double up accommodations. I hope you find this satisfactory.”
“It is perfectly sufficient,” Zevran said.
Kieran set down their packs and sat on a bed, testing its bounce and softness. Before departing, Elysse turned to Zevran, “Please meet us in the Chantry later, Zevran. There’s something we’d like to discuss.” Zevran politely nodded as the Divine and her wife left the men behind.
Zevran closed the door behind them. Kieran hoped Zevran was watching him move items, unpack, and organize things that needed to be laundered. He moved deliberately, desperate to be observed. Zevran came up beside him and began sorting with him. They moved well together, handing things to one another and unpacking quickly. Kieran felt his skin prickle at the stolen touches. Zevran always felt warm; it radiated from his skin.
Kieran took the items that needed to be laundered away, still drunk on tension. Zevran departed too, heading to the chantry to meet with his former comrades in arms. He took measured breaths as he headed toward them. He’d seen them before. He’d grown used to seeing the Divine walk hand in hand with the Griffon of Highever. Most of the time it didn’t even bother him. As of late, he’d even found a sort of comfort in it, some sort of proof that things were capable of lasting. He’d also had his share of distractions helping him.
In the Chantry, he wandered until he found a room near the back. Guards stood, blocking his path until Elysse dismissed them. “Come in,” she said. “We’ve been expecting you.”
“What have I done to receive such a warm welcome?” Zevran asked. Leliana smirked as she brushed her hair.
“Are you taking good care of Kieran?” Elysse asked. “He’s been so darling, ever since he was a baby.”
“You seem to know him quite well,” he said.
“Lady Cousland is known for her wanton indiscretions,” Leliana said.
“I remember the night he was conceived,” Elysse said. “We were in Redcliffe the night before battle. Do you remember that night? How young we all felt! And yet how long has it been? To think: from that horrible night came a babe so powerful and so kind.” She forced a smile while her chest heaved slightly.
“He’s certainly been adequate thus far,” he replied. “He’s an incredibly proficient mage.” Zevran gave her nothing to read.
“He is. I remember when his magic first came in: so young, barely a toddler setting fires all around us,” she said. “It gave Morrigan quite the trouble, but she loved her baby boy.” Leliana came behind Elysse and put a hand on her shoulder. Elysse nodded and closed her eyes. “I’m going to go meet with him now. See what my sweet babe has in store for the evening.” She squeezed the hand on her shoulder before leaving the two rogues alone.
First the door, then steps. Leliana sat, ears attuned. Zevran spoke first, “She has all the subtlety of a broadsword.”
Leliana laughed. “I always said she should have been a warrior, but I did not ask you here to discuss her martial prowess.”
Zevran leaned back in his chair. “Please, go on, Most Holy.”
Leliana rolled her eyes. “You’re traveling with Kieran and likely will be for some time,” she said.
“That has been the Inquisitor’s assignment, yes.”
“Do you know how old he is?” She asked.
“A man grown, by any measure,” he said. “He’s made that clear repeatedly.”
“True, he is not a child,” she said, “but I do not know that Elysse sees it as clearly as you do.”
“How I love our dancing, but do say what you mean.”
Leliana sighed. Zevran swallowed, his heart betraying him within his chest. “You’re a man of great feeling and poor impulse control. He is the son of Morrigan, perhaps one of the most powerful mages alive, and Alistair, the King of Fereldan. Even more, Elysse considers the boy her blood.”
“It speaks well of him to be so widely cared for,” Zevran said. “Is this instruction to not care for him?”
“No,” she said. “This is instruction to not fuck him.”
Zevran was startled by the vulgarity. Leliana had never been one for such clear statements, always preferring the delicate dance of the bard, singing her songs and spinning her tales. To hear her so quickly and surely say what she meant was both out of character and jarring. “Leliana, I,” he started.
“You are connected to half of Thedas through your bedroom. You’ve made a reputation for your danger and your generosity. You also follow the wind where it takes you. Know this, Crow: she will not forgive you. Neither will Alistair, and certainly neither will Morrigan.”
“I have done nothing inappropriate,” he said. He sat up, nausea creeping up his throat.
“Nor would you think it inappropriate to bed him,” she said. “You’ve insisted on his manhood as often as Elysse insists on his childhood. Whatever you’re feeling, wherever your loins are leading you, resist. For your own sake.”
Zevran started to open his mouth and say something cunning, some line that would disarm the Divine and enable him to continue however he saw fit. He thought back to moments with Kieran, the warmth of the legs pressed against each other’s, the dripping of sweat from Kieran’s hair onto Zevran’s neck as they fought back-to-back. Elysse hadn’t seen any of that, though.
What she had seen was the two of them in Starkhaven, laughing and flirting between buildings. She’d seen how close they sat to one another, but he was not so blind. The jam, the quickness with which Zevran had cleaned Kieran’s face with his thumb, and how greedily he’d consumed it, letting the lingering taste of him settle in his mouth.
So instead, he sighed and nodded. “Of course,” he said. “Nothing untoward.”
Leliana nodded. She stood up, and as she walked past Zevran, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “It will be simpler this way,” she said.
Across the city, Kieran lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He let his mind wander with visions of dancing, warm skin, and bright teeth. He hoped Zevran tasted of Antivan whiskey.