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shivunin · 6 months

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In Peace

(Arianwen Tabris/Zevran Arainai | 1,846 Words | Fluff | AO3 Link | CW: brief references to sex, implied/past suicidal thoughts)

Summary: Zevran and Tabris have developed a nightly routine; it surprises him to realize how much he dislikes the idea of breaking it

When Zevran had first seen Arianwen, they’d been trying to kill each other.

This was not especially odd, he found out later. Statistically speaking, Arianwen was thinking of killing most of the people she met, if she was not already actually attacking them. Zevran was no exception in this; it mattered little that he had been trying to die at the time, and she only obliging his death wish. She had spun through the crowd like dancing death, her face lit with a heady glee. In that moment, Zevran had thought that if he was to die here on some nameless road in Ferelden’s nethers, at least there would be beauty in his death.

Zevran would never have guessed then that she could sleep so sweetly draped across his chest—she had certainly never done so before this night. He certainly would not have guessed that she snored so loudly. It would not have occurred to him to wonder on that first day, Zevran supposed, given that he’d been fighting for his life.

Still—the snoring did come as a surprise. She was usually very quiet when she slept on her side—or perhaps it was simply that her face was closer to his ear now, and thus much louder than he was used to.

His Warden slept with her hair braided, though in a looser plait than she usually wore during the day. Zevran passed a hand over it softly, hoping to wake her enough to make her shift aside. Instead, every muscle in her body that had been soft and liquid went taut at once, entirely alert between one heartbeat and the next.

“Nothing is wrong,” he whispered at once. The alternative was a knife thrown through the wall of his tent, most likely, and he had so recently patched the last hole she’d made.

Arianwen rolled away from him despite his quiet words. When she sat up, her dark silhouette was cut against the lighter blue of his tent, body alert and aware. It was plain that she was listening for some disturbance beyond their tent, so Zevran said nothing more. He propped himself up on his elbows instead, feeling the wash of cooler air against his loose tunic when the blanket fell away from him.

The sky had not lightened outside, but the fire was banked; they were in the deepest part of the night, perhaps an hour or two from the start of her watch. It had become a routine of sorts for her to stay in his tent until then, though she usually returned to her own tent when she was finished. Zevran was not certain if this tradition of hers was some concession to propriety (unlikely) or the delicate sensibilities of some of their traveling fellows (even less likely) or if she simply had no interest in waking up beside him when dawn came.

Knowing her as he did now, he supposed it was most likely some fourth reason that had nothing to do with any of the other things. Perhaps she lovingly polished each of her blades alone in her tent until daybreak. He would not put it past her. But, he realized as she moved to stand, this routine might be more easily broken than expected.

And…perhaps he had grown more attached to it than he might have thought.

“Wait,” he said, his voice abrupt in the quiet of the night. Arianwen paused on her knees.

“What?” she whispered. “I thought you were sleeping.”

Zevran found her hand in the dark on the second try. It was braced on her knee, but she allowed him to pull it away and press it to his mouth instead. Could he tell her not to go? It didn’t seem right, but he could not immediately determine why. She had surprised him by staying when he’d made it clear he had no interest in lovemaking tonight. They had spent plenty of nights together and apart since they’d begun doing whatever it was they were doing. None of the nights together had not featured some sort of…well.

It surprised him now to realize that it had been pleasant to feel her against him as he’d fallen asleep, even if he would have gladly gone without the noise.

“I do seem to recall you sleeping, too,” he told her. “Quite comfortably, in fact.”

He could feel her expression in the silence that followed. It would be the one in which her brows furrowed and she looked at him sidelong, as if trying to weigh whether he was making a joke or not.

“You woke me. Did you not…” she trailed off, taking her hand from his. Zevran peered into the darkness, making no sense of her expression and trying nonetheless.

“I did not mean to,” he told her truthfully.

She moved—he could not see how—and a moment later he felt her breath on his cheek.

“What do you need?” she asked.

Zevran turned his head, nose brushing against the curve of her cheek. Her face was the only part of her not obviously scarred, he had found. Her cheek was very soft against his skin, the fine hairs there tickling softly. When he leaned his cheek against hers, she didn’t waver an inch.

“There is nothing that I need,” he told her, emphasizing the last word, “but I would very much like for us to go back to sleep. Together.”

Slowly, one of her hands came to rest on his knee. Her index finger tapped once, twice. This was a tell: she was thinking very hard. Zevran privately thought that he might be the only one in the world who would know when she was bluffing at cards, should she ever play them. Her face was impossible to read at first glance, but the rest of her body spilled her secrets easily enough. Months on the road had taught him this as they’d taught him everything else he knew about her.

Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Some decision was being made, some calculus of factors entirely beyond him. She had done this before she’d told him to keep his earring, too. The verdict had not been in his favor then. He wondered if he would fare so poorly now, too.

Zevran thought of the weight of her body over his chest, of the way she’d looped leg and arm over him while they’d slept. He thought of the ragged sounds she made in her sleep when the nightmares came, of the way she wrapped herself around him when the foul dreams woke her in the night.

He thought of how the leather and steel scent of her comforted him when his own dark dreams paced close and set shining teeth at his throat. The smell of leather reminds me of home, he’d told her months ago. It reminded Zevran of her now, too, until the three were all twined together as one. He did not want her to go—not yet. He had grown accustomed to sleeping beside her until the moment before she needed to leave.

“Arianwen,” he said, and felt the falter in her tapping. “Mi vida. Come to bed.”

Her sigh rustled his hair.

“I should never have told you I like the way you say my name,” she told him, but he could hear that he’d swayed her already. Only a little more and they could go back to sleep. A few hours more—only a few, but they mattered. He wanted every single moment he could coax out of her. He wasn’t above fighting dirty for them.

“Surely you do have no desire to lace up your boots and stumble through the dark of the whole clearing only to climb into your cold bedroll alone,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her cheek. “My dearest Arianwen. Surely not that.”

The blankets over him shifted when she slid beneath them again. The tip of her braid trailed over his arm. A victory—and it felt like one, for all that it had been a battle of words rather than blades.

“If you are sure I won’t keep you up,” she said doubtfully. “I’ll stay. Until watch.”

Keep him up—was that what she’d been worried about?

Zevran frowned as she settled in beside him again, less than an inch separating their bodies. He lowered himself back onto his bedroll and reached for her hip.

“Come closer,” he told her. “It is cold.”

Tabris came, settling against him stiffly, then relaxing by degrees. Zevran kissed the top of her head and she relaxed further still. After a moment, she tugged the blankets more fully over both of them.

“You wanted me to stay just so you could be warm,” she murmured, though there was no heat to the words. Already, he could feel her slipping into sleep. She fell asleep easily enough, his Warden, though she woke at the slightest provocation. Zevran ignored the surge of affection at the thought, though it grew more difficult to disregard when she slipped an arm around his waist.

“Yes, of course,” he agreed. She made a soft noise, rousing at the words.

“Say’t again,” Arianwen said.

“Say what?” he asked.

Arianwen squeezed him slightly and tucked herself more fully against his shoulder. There was a scar beneath the place where her ear rested, a very thin line just below the joint of his shoulder. She’d stabbed him there all those months ago when they’d first met. One evening, when they’d been dozing in the afterglow, he had casually pointed the silvered line of scar tissue out to her. Tabris had scowled at him and gone all stiff—he still had no idea why—and she’d made a point of not holding him like this for weeks afterward. What a relief it had been when she’d forgotten again.

By day, she was quick and dangerous and sharp. He liked that about her, he’d found. But he liked her like this, too, somnolent and warm against him in the night. This—her head on his shoulder, her arm around his waist—this was his alone.

There had been very, very few things in Zevran’s life that had belonged to him alone. He had gone without sleep, without affection, without comfort for so long that he knew better than to disregard such things when they were offered openly. No—such things were the sort one held onto with both hands, even if it took some extra coaxing in the dead of night.

“You know what,” she told him.

Zevran smiled to himself, allowing his eyes to slip closed again.

“Goodnight, Arianwen,” he said.

“”Night, Zevran,” she echoed, her voice slow. “Until watch.”

“Until watch,” he agreed, and paused. “Arianwen.”

She made a soft sound, neither sigh nor purr nor moan, and melted against him. Zevran lay awake for some time after, his eyes shut tight, his hands as still as he could make them. She did not snore, and he did not wake her.

Tabris’s watch came and went.

They both slept soundly through it.

(For Day 5 of Zevwarden Week: Bodies and Minds. Thanks again to @zevraholics for organizing!)

#zevwarden week 2023 #zevran arainai #arianwen tabris #zevran x warden #zevwarden #zevran x f!warden #zevran x tabris #bodies and minds #fluff #snuggling #implied/past suicidal thoughts #hmm guess the theme for this week is #' when we met i had no idea how much i'd love you and now you are a part of me'#i didn't do it on purpose but there it is!

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razrogue · 1 month

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Because they are on my mind this morning...

I truly believe Briva and Zevran saved each other. Briva had no qualms about dying after rescuing her cousin and neighbors. She was ready to go down fighting right there in the alienage cause fuck shems thinking they can do whatever they want. Duncan saved her then but that feeling of fuck it, it's whatever never went away. After finding out about the ritual's effects and what it meant for her life, her attitude was just whatever, it is what it is. If she was meant to die then she would. It made her dangerous but reckless and Alistair and Sten were the only ones willing to tell her (in their own ways...well Sten was straightforward but still) you need to chill out a little bit. "I'm ready to die" was always in the back of her mind whenever they got into a fight. It was always the last one to her.

And then there was Zevran...

The assassin who failed miserably at his task thanks to the dangerously reckless elf standing over him as he came to, hoping he'd died himself. He pledged himself to her cause despite his own internal death wish. And despite everyone's protests, as Briva stood over him that day, she reached her hand out and said come with me.

Then one night after dinner, sitting near each other by the fire, Zevran asked her if she wanted to have a little fun and Briva said sure. And they continued fighting and continued having fun, until one day Briva decided to ask him sincerely to hang out together. Never mind that they'd seen every inch of each other and did things with each other that some didn't until at least 3 dinners and a drink together. It was the first time that both of them were just honest with each other. And so that night the two of them just talked. They talked honestly and openly and without judgment and they talked so long that the sun began rising and the camp began stirring. That night was the turning point for them. Not all the wonderfully delicious sex they'd had but the night the two of them let their guards down fully and really exposed themselves to each other. It was uncharted territory for both of them but they embraced it and walked on together.

From then on, they watched out for each other a little more. A throwing knife into a dark spawn who was getting a little too close. Sand thrown in the eyes of a bandit swinging in the other's vicinity. It was a bit of a dance for the two of them as they watched over each other while cutting down foes. They'd developed not only a harmony but a friendship then a relationship that was new for them both but a journey they'd decided on together.

And so the night before the archdemon's army reached Denerim, they laid together in silence, wrapped in each other's arms. Neither knowing what to say exactly but wanting to cherish the moment like it was the last. As Zevran slept soundly beside her, Briva thought to herself that she wasn't ready to die anymore. She wanted another day, another night, and to have many more with him at her side, in her bed, and in her heart. And she promised to him as he slept, "I will come back to you." With a renewed purpose, she was determined to not allow this battle to make a liar out of her.

#Briva Tabris #Tabris #Zevran Arainai #Zevran #Dragon Age #Dragon Age Origins #DAO #Zevwarden #Zevran x Tabris #razmeta #these two 🥺#I'm just a little teary thinking about them...it's cool

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