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Grey Solstice	By : myghinmin Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 2413 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own neither Dragon Age: Origins nor its characters, and I make no money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
Title: Grey Solstice
Rating: AO (adults only) for explicit sexual situations in chapter 1; mild sexual situations in chapter 2; sexual situations and heavy alcohol use in chapter 3.
Chapter Rating: M (mature) for sexual situations.
Word Count: 4477 words.
Pairing: Established Alistair/Zevran (specifically, established in "Shades of Grey").
Spoilers: Possible end-game spoilers.
Summary: Two years, he's been living in Ferelden, and finally, one Satinalia, it occurs to him how much he's lost, how much he's changed. Zevran must learn to cope with what it means to live with the Grey Wardens.
Notes: Three of the four costumes were correctly guessed! Alistair was dressed as Link (specfically, the Link from the Wii game, "Twilight Princess"), Anora was Princess Peach (from any of the Mario games; fun fact, even though Cauthrien didn't actually appear in that chapter, I insist that she was dressed as Daisy), and Zevran was Balthier from Final Fantasy 12. The one character who stumped everyone was Luthanuel, who was dressed as Duo Maxwell from Gundam Wing (my original slash fandom, oh good times).
As always, if you enjoyed reading this story, please remember to review (constructive criticism welcome). Enjoy the ending!
[[ ... Chapter 4 ..... ]]
This time, Zevran was the one to wake, the bed far colder than it should have been with two people in it. He awakened suddenly, lacking the momentary disorientation that so commonly afflicted his bed partner. Dark eyes opened and darted from side to side, his fingers tense and ready to reach for a weapon at the first sign of anything wrong, but the room was quiet, still. The fireplace was dark, the coals banked and waiting for someone to come and stir them. He relaxed slowly, sitting up in the bed, the blankets pooling around his hips. Something caught his attention, and he reached out a hand to lightly touch the discoloration on the blanket.
His fingertips just barely brushed over it, and he couldn't stop the slow smile from crossing his face. He was suddenly quite glad that Alistair wasn't there to see it; wouldn't do for the Warden to catch him with such a foolish grin on his face. Purposely, he turned away, located the water basin in the room, and by the time he had rinsed his face and dressed, he had his face schooled back into the normal, supremely confident mask he favored. Alistair was a terrible influence, as Zevran was beginning to have trouble not matching the Warden's goofy expressions.
The hall was quiet as Zevran slipped down it, instinctively stepping as softly as he could. It was still early; most of the keep would be still asleep, and honestly, it surprised him that Alistair wasn't. It didn't bode well, given their latest... encounter. Zevran swallowed, pointedly ignoring his slight headache-- he'd had too much wine the night before-- and he stopped moving only whenever he heard a faint rustling from the room with Alistair's desk. No amount of persuasion could convince Alistair to move his papers into his rooms; he insisted that they stay in the desk in the small library on the second floor. Claimed he liked the view.
He was silent as he opened the door, keeping his hand on the knob in order to muffle its noise. Sunlight streamed in the window, wrapping around the Warden sitting at the desk, papers in his hands as he read over them, a quill sitting just beside them, which he periodically picked up to make a note or two on the paper under his hand. He didn't notice the door opening. Zevran hesitated only a moment, then very carefully shut the door, not allowing it to make a sound. He didn't lock it, knowing that the noise of the lock would alert Alistair to his presence.
Instead, he very slowly crossed the room, trusting Alistair's attention to remain on the papers in front of him. Much to his delight, the Warden didn't look up, and soon Zevran was behind him, reading over his shoulder, amused to see that Alistair had only just gotten around to reading some notes that Zevran had left for him over two weeks prior. Another moment passed, and then Zevran leaned forward, his arms firm as he locked them over the Warden's torso, trapping Alistair's arms against his body as Zevran licked his neck.
"What are you doing?" Zevran asked, as though he didn't know. Alistair jerked under him, then, upon hearing his voice, breathed out a deep sigh of relief. Laughing weakly, the Warden leaned back into the embrace, tilting his head up to look at Zevran. The Antivan allowed a small, affectionate smile.
"Trying to get work done," Alistair answered, wriggling around until Zevran's arms loosened and the Warden could get one of his own hands back down and around to touch the Antivan's thigh. Dark eyes closed for just a moment, and then Zevran felt Alistair inch the chair back a little. He reached for Zevran, pulling the Antivan down into his lap. The proximity was instinctive for Alistair, Zevran realized as Alistair wrapped an arm around his waist. After nearly two years of close contact with his fellow Warden, with her, Alistair needed the touch.
It caused a tightness in Zevran's chest, a feeling he was more used to associating with dark and torture than with sunlight and a Warden pulling him into his lap. He swallowed, looking down at Alistair, his arms settling easily over the Warden's shoulders. One of his hands lightly brushed the backs of his fingers over the slight stubble-- Alistair hadn't shaved yet-- and then Zevran moved to comb those fingers through Alistair's growing blond hair.
"What sort of work?" Zevran's voice was light, despite the unusual feeling, and he quickly redirected his attention, twisting around as though he were going to grab some of those papers.
Alistair stopped him though, holding him tight. "Oh, please don't. I need a break." He trailed one hand up Zevran's back, and the Antivan offered him a little grin.
"Do you now? I'm sure I could think of... something to entertain you."
Alistair returned the grin, and Zevran couldn't help but stare, still, after so long of travel with the Warden, amazed at how open he was, how the grin lit his entire face. Zevran didn't think he'd ever get used to that, no matter how many times he saw it. "What were you thinking of precisely?"
The Antivan's grin widened, and then he eased back, slipping out of Alistair's arms and kneeling on the floor in front of him. Alistair swallowed, and Zevran pressed a palm against the firmness he found there, between Alistair's thighs. The Warden blushed just a little, fascinating the Antivan, and then he decided that if they were going to do this, they were going to do this properly. He unbuckled Alistair's belt, unlaced the front of those trousers. One of Alistair's hands tangled in his hair, and he closed his eyes at the feel of it as he slowly drew out the Warden.
Zevran wrapped his hand around Alistair's length, not too firm, just the slightest touch. Enough to make the Warden lean back in the chair, to make those hazel eyes close, to make Alistair's hand tighten just a little in Zevran's hair. The Antivan made a soft noise at the feeling, and then he leaned forward enough to take Alistair into his mouth, swallowing as he slid all the way down. The Warden gasped softly, his fingers pulling on a blond lock, and Zevran's eyes closed at that sensation.
For just another moment, Zevran enjoyed himself, feeling Alistair's reactions, the way muscles along his thighs tensed and relaxed to whatever rhythm the Antivan set, and then there was a knock at the door. Both Alistair and Zevran moved at the same moment, Zevran folding up to fit under the desk--- it was one with a full wooden skirt, no way to see under it from any side except for where Alistair was sitting-- and Alistair waiting just long enough for Zev to settle before he inched the chair forward again, this time sitting close enough that his stomach touched the desktop.
Before Alistair could tuck himself away, or even call for the person outside to come in, Zevran heard the door open and close-- Zevran hadn't locked it, after all. The sound was muffled, cramped under the desk as he was, but Zevran listened carefully, curious as to who it was. It wasn't until she spoke that he realized, and then, he couldn't stop the wicked expression over his face. He glanced back at Alistair, who was stammering a greeting, clearly surprised that she came in without an invitation. Zevran considered his options for only a moment, then very carefully, he respositioned himself as silently as he could.
"Alistair." Anora looked lovely, as always, her hair up, wearing something more normal than the pink gown she'd had on the night before. "Warden Rylan said I would probably find you here." She smiled at him, and Alistair managed a weak one in return.
"Y-your majesty." He was breathing hard, he knew it, but he couldn't stop it, couldn't help it. With Zevran between his legs under the desk and Anora so carefully locking the door, a strange expression on her face, he didn't know what he was going to do. He could feel Zevran moving then, under the desk, and his breath caught. Only whenever the Antivan stilled did Alistair dare breathe again. "Forgive me for not standing, but--"
"Oh, no. It is fine. I am intruding on your correspondence. In truth, I only need a moment of your time, Alistair."
Alistair nodded, leaning back just a little in the chair, relaxing a hair. Perhaps he could manage this. Wouldn't that impress Zevran? If he managed to handle Anora without any help at all from the Antivan? "Of course. What can I do for you?" Regrettably, the words had no more passed his lips than he learned why Zevran had been moving, rearranging himself under the desk. He felt slender fingers wrapping around him, and he stiffened, his spine suddenly perfectly straight as he realized that Zevran wasn't planning on stopping. Those fingers were perfect, too, squeezing just enough to make Alistair want to lift his hips into the motion.
It wasn't that Anora could do anything to either of them, given that Alistair was a Warden, and if push came to shove, he could claim Right of Conscription on Zevran to keep the Antivan out of her clutches. He felt his heart stop at the thought of putting Zevran through a Joining, and he held on to that, using that fear to keep himself from moving, from moaning as wet heat replaced fingers.
"Well, to be honest, we have a situation at Amaranthine." Anora was wringing her hands, clearly feeling comfortable enough in front of Alistair to let him see how much this 'situation' was getting to her. "Darkspawn are all over the coastlands, and we just don't have enough men to push them back. We need the Wardens in more force, keeping the peace."
Alistair nodded slowly, trying to keep his attention on her, knowing that while she couldn't exactly do anything, it would be horribly mortifying for her to discover that Zevran was under Alistair's desk, his lips wrapped around-- Maker. Zevran was going to kill him doing that sort of thing. Had that been the slightest graze of teeth? "O-Of course you do." He was quite proud of himself, keeping his voice as steady as it was. "How many do you need?"
"No, Alistair, you don't understand." Anora took another step closer, and Alistair's fingers were gripping the arm of his chair so tightly that he was white-knuckled. Zevran was beginning to move just a little faster, enough that Alistair was having trouble keeping his breath steady. "The family that took Amaranthine has requested that someone else take it over. It is," she hesitated, looking for the right word, "a disaster."
"What do you want us to do about it?" No stammer that time, and he leaned forward a little, forcibly releasing the arm of his chair and clasping his hands in front of him on the desk. Hopefully, he looked calm enough.
"I want the Wardens to take Amaranthine. An official announcement will be made within a few days, if you agree."
Alistair had to admit, his first reaction as a firm 'no.' But just as he opened his mouth to deliver it, Zevran tightened around him, sucking more firmly, making it tighter, hotter than it had been. Instead of his regretful, but firm 'no', he found himself saying softly, "Yes." His eyes widened as it hit him what he said, but there was no taking it back. Anora looked pleased at his response and was already waving her hand, cheerfully seeing herself out. He stayed perfectly still for another moment, Zevran still under his desk, still moving, and he felt himself tensing, achingly close.
"Z-Zev..." Another long lick, another tight swallow around him, and he couldn't hold back any longer. He fell back in the chair, collapsing just after spilling into Zevran's mouth. A moment of breathing, and then he scooted the chair back, letting the Antivan slip out. Immediately, Zevran went and threw the lock, not wanting any other unwanted guests to enter. Then he came back and leaned against the desk, looking at Alistair with a smug grin-- the cat that swallowed the pigeon. Canary. Whatever.
"What was that, Zevran?" Alistair drew a shuddering breath, getting himself back under control. He couldn't help the little tremor in his voice, the hurt on his face. He had thought that he was through being politically maneuvered, having someone else call the shots as far as where he went and who he was. He was a Warden, and Wardens weren't tilted, were not arls. And if they took Amaranthine, that would make Alistair just that: an arl.
A moment, and then Zevran's grin faded slowly as he really studied Alistair. The Warden felt it putting him on edge; the Antivan was looking at him as though he were some sort of spoiled child, caught doing something wrong. Finally, Zevran said softly, "You're upset," as though the idea had not occurred to him that Alistair might be.
"Of course I'm upset!" Alistair tucked himself back into his trousers, his hands shaking as he did. Only after he managed to buckle himself did he stand up, his eyes sparking heat as he glared at Zevran. "How could you do that to me?"
Zevran settled his hips against the desk a little more, his arms crossing in front of him as he tilted his head. "You didn't enjoy it?" he asked softly, looking down for just a moment, then lifting his eyes to look up at Alistair from under those blond lashes. Alistair was beginning to sense a pattern in how the Antivan responded to confrontation.
"Not that. Th-the other thing! You knew that would make me say 'yes.' Didn't you?" Silence was as good as a confirmation from Zevran, and Alistair scowled, unable to stop himself. "What made you think taking Amaranthine was a good idea?"
"What makes you think taking it isn't?"
Alistair stopped, his anger flagging in face of such docile acceptance. No one else would have stood so passively, letting Alistair rage at them, and Alistair found it difficult to keep his temper flared with Zevran looking at him like that. Immediately, he spun on his heel, stalking over to the window. His hands slammed down on the window sill, and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he kept from shaking Zevran, trying to get some sort of reaction from the Antivan.
"If we take Amaranthine, it will make me an arl, Zevran. Wardens don't involve themselves so closely with the kingdom's politics. That will give me a voice at the Landsmeets." He didn't add that it was only a few steps away from the crown, a position that Alistair didn't want to be anywhere near.
"And without it, where do you think the Wardens will be once the darkspawn are handled?" Zevran's voice was cold, and Alistair sighed softly, knowing that the Antivan was right. That wasn't what he was angry about; he saw the logic in the move, knew where Zevran was going with this.
"I just... I didn't expect you to do this." Alistair leaned his forehead against the cold pane of glass, closed his eyes instead of looking at the snow falling so softly outside.
Zevran walked over then, one of his hands lightly touching Alistair's shoulder. He turned the Warden around slowly, his dark eyes unreadable as he looked up. "You think I'm like Eamon." It wasn't a question, and Alistair didn't see any point in arguing. The moment that it had happened, Zevran felt exactly like Eamon, toying with him and putting him where ever he liked.
"I trusted you," Alistair replied softly, looking down at Zevran, one of his hands still on the window sill, the other falling limply beside him. "You know how I feel about politics and..." The Warden waved one of his hands, looking for a better world and failing. "Everything," he finally muttered, weakly.
Several minutes stretched between them, and then Zevran took Alistair's hand in both of his, drew him back over to the desk. The Antivan hoisted himself up, and Alistair let Zevran pull him close, let him gently place both of his hands on Alistair's hips. But when Zevran spoke, he caught Alistair's attention, making him look at the Antivan closely. "Alistair... I... I knew you would come for me. When I was in Denerim."
Alistair stilled; this was the first time that Zevran had approached the subject, the first time that he had said anything beyond calling the Wardens all fools for searching for him. He watched as the Antivan looked away, his dark eyes staring down at the floor. Zevran swallowed, and Alistair reached for him without thinking, drawing him close, coaxing him into putting his head on Alistair's shoulder.
"There was no reason for me to think that, but... I knew you would. And now, I need you to have that same trust with me." Here, Zevran leaned back, reaching a hand up to touch Alistair's face, finally looking up and meeting the Warden's gaze. "You do trust my judgement, Alistair."
Alistair nodded slowly, rubbing his face against that palm for just a moment, his eyes closing. "I do trust you, Zev; I really do." He sighed. "I just..." The Warden shook his head, unable to think of anything to complete that thought with. Nothing seemed appropriate. Nothing would explain the emotions running rampant through him. Finally, he changed the subject, asking softly, "If you knew I wouldn't leave you with them, why did you call me a fool after..?"
Zevran chuckled softly against him, and then he disentangled himself from Alistair. "I had hoped, against what I know of you, that you would be smart for once. Do not go chasing Crows again, Alistair. Now, come on. There is some sort of feast for us to attend, is there not?"
Alistair let the Antivan get almost completely away before he reached out and caught Zevran, his fingers making a light bracelet around Zevran's wrist. "Promise you won't do that again. Promise you'll talk to me before you make that sort of decision, about what's best for me." He didn't look at the Antivan as he made the request, and he knew that Zevran wasn't looking at him whenever he answered after a moment of quiet.
"Promises like that are meant to be broken, Alistair."
The 'feast' was subdued enough, with the normal seating arrangements vastly reordered to accomodate the extra guests. Anora sat at the head of the main table, Alistair immediately to her right, and Teagan to his. On her left was Ser Cauthrien, and Leliana. Zevran took a seat down close to Leliana, and Luthanuel sat across from him. Plate after plate of classic Fereldan fare was brought out, making his stomach ache for a proper meal, something with pasta and mushrooms and sweet tomato sauce, something that couldn't be eaten off of baked trenchers and with one's fingers. He and Leliana exchanged a glance, and he knew that she was thinking the same thing he was.
But he smiled and choked it down, making the polite conversation that was required whenever someone spoke to him. Truth be told, since Alistair was back on his feet and communicating again, neither Anora nor Ser Cauthrien seemed to even notice Zevran was in the room, and to be fair, the Antivan didn't mind as much as he figured he should. It wasn't like he'd been noticed before the Wardens had gotten a hold of him, after all.
First chance he got, he made his excuses and slipped away, leaving Alistair talking with Teagan, pointedly ignoring the desperate attempts Alistair made to catch his attention. He headed back to his room, the first time he'd been there in close to a week. There was some sort of plant stuck to his door, and a quick glance down the hallway showed that his wasn't the only door with one stuck to it. He peeled it off and headed in, taking one of the torches from the wall and locking the door behind him.
It was an odd looking sprig, with long narrow green leaves and small white pearls on it. They glistened in the moonlight streaming through his window. He set the torch in the holder by the door, and he set the plant on his nightstand, deciding he'd look at it more closely later. Right then, he needed to get candles lit, figure out if he could manage the fireplace on his own. It was something he'd never had to learn to do in Antiva, and Alistair had always been the one to prod the fire into life upstairs.
He shivered in the cold room, and as he worked, he couldn't help replaying the morning in his head, couldn't stop seeing that hurt expression, the betrayal that Alistair had tried to hide under his anger. It cut far more deeply than Zevran liked, than he knew it should. It wasn't like he and Alistair were... anything. The Warden just needed someone there, and Zevran was the easiest choice. Alistair knew that he didn't have to explain anything to Zevran, that Zevran didn't expect--
The knock made him jump, made him drop the torch into the fireplace. Muttering a few choice Antivan swears, Zevran snatched it out, and he moved to the door, setting it back in the holder there. He didn't say anything, just leaned against the door, and after a minute, he heard Alistair's voice.
"Zev? Zevran, I know you're in there. There's light under your door."
A faint smile curved Zevran's face, but he still didn't answer, instead just leaning against the heavy wooden door. He heard Alistair shuffle around for another minute or two, and then Alistair sighed loudly.
"Don't make me do this through the door." His voice was as low as it could be and still carry through the wood, and it brought shivers to Zevran's skin again. The last time he'd heard Alistair's voice that low--
"Zevran?"
The Antivan listened as Alistair leaned against the door too, heard the sound of Alistair's forehead gently falling against the wood.
"I'm sorry; I do trust you, I really do. I was just upset because it was sudden, because we didn't get a chance to talk about it before... before it happened. Please..."
Zevran swallowed, looking down. He honestly didn't know why he was making Alistair do this. Was he just that cruel of a person? Alistair hadn't been wrong to be angry; Zevran had taken full advantage of him, tricking him into agreeing, into saying yes to something that he didn't want. The Antivan swallowed, one of his hands lifting to rest on the door handle. He waited another moment, needing to see how far he could push this, how much Alistair was determined to get his response.
"Z-Zev?" The voice cracked just slightly, and Zevran couldn't stand it then. He unlocked the door then, and pushed it open just a crack. Having done that much, he stepped back, moving to sit, cross-legged on the edge of his bed. His boots were still on, but he didn't care. He leaned over far enough to pluck the strange little plant, turning it over and over in his hands as Alistair let the door creak open. Finally, the Warden stepped in and shut the door behind him, locking it in the same motion.
They stayed like that for several more minutes, until Alistair walked over to the bed, dropping to one knee in front of where Zevran sat. The motion put him just shorter than Zevran, and the Antivan looked at him curiously, wondering where he was going with it. Alistair hesitated another moment, then said quietly, "I'm sorry, Zev."
Time in Ferelden had made Zevran soft. Not too long ago, he'd have scoffed, pushing Alistair away and telling him to leave. Honestly, not too long ago, he'd have never let Alistair in the room at all. Now, he simply sighed and reached for the Warden, gently putting one of his hands in Alistair's hair. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of Alistair's head. No matter how much he needed to, he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. He couldn't breath the words that Alistair needed to hear.
But apparently, it was enough, because after just a minute, Alistair repositioned himself to sit on the floor, leaning back against the bed, his head tilted up to look at Zevran. His brow furrowed. "Where did you get that?" he asked curiously, studying the plant that Zevran still had in his hand.
"It was on the door." Zevran handed it to him, and Alistair turned it over in his own hands for just a minute before a smile broke over his face. Zevran tilted his head.
"It's a Fereldan tradition," the Warden said with a little laugh. "Supposedly, if you find yourself under it with someone else, you're supposed to kiss them." The thought was charming, and it made even Zevran smile at it.
"Kiss them? Because they are standing under the plant with you?"
Alistair nodded and he moved then, settling only once he was on the bed's edge with Zevran. He held up the plant over their heads and very slowly, giving Zevran ample time to move if he chose, leaned in for a soft kiss. The Antivan let him, closing his eyes at how gentle the Warden was with it. When Alistair drew back finally, he handed the greenery back to Zevran, got the torch, and set to work on the fireplace.
Zevran kicked off his boots, one at a time, watching Alistair as he did. By the time Alistair had a fire going, the Antivan was sprawled out over the bed, arms folded behind his head, and he was looking up at the ceiling, holding the little sprig over his face so that he could look at it. Alistair sat on the bed beside him, and when he saw what Zevran was still looking at, he chuckled.
"Keep that up, and I'll have to keep kissing you," he murmured, leaning down to make good on his promise. Zevran smiled against his lips, and leaned up, meeting Alistair halfway. This kiss was just as soft as the first one, and when they pulled apart, Zevran handed the sprig to Alistair. "Mistletoe," the Warden said quietly, a little smile on his face. "It's called mistletoe."
Zevran nodded slowly, his hands sliding into Alistair's hair, pulling him down for another kiss, stopping just long enough to whisper, "Well, perhaps not all Fereldan traditions are so bad, eh?"
"I've come undone.
But you make sense of who I am,
Like puzzle pieces in your eye.
Then I'll see your face;
I know I'm finally yours.
I find everything I thought I lost before.
You call my name;
I come to you in pieces,
So you can make me whole."
--"Pieces," by Red.
Disclaimer: I own neither Dragon Age: Origins, nor "Pieces," by Red, and I make no money from these writings.
That being said, thank you so much for taking the time to read my work, and I hope you can spare just another minute or two and leave me a comment, telling me your thoughts! Even if it's just that you did/didn't like it.
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Grey Solstice