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Shades of Grey	By : myghinmin Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 3767 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Title: Shades of Grey
Story Rating: M (mature). NSFW (not safe for work) due to sexual content in chapters five, seven, and eight, and for torture in chapters eleven and twelve.
Chapter Rating: T (teen).
Chapter Warnings: None.
Word Count: 1522 words.
PC: Fem!Amell Warden, deceased.
Pairing: Zevran/Alistair.
Spoilers: End-game spoilers. Set post game.
Summary: She made him swear to keep Alistair on his feet until he could stand alone. Maker help him, Zevran will honor that final promise, even if it kills him.
Notes: Well, this is a short chapter, but the next one should be longer. It was difficult to decide which POV I wanted to go with for this one. In chapter six, I brought in Teagan's, so after much consideration, I decided it would be best to do another chapter from the same POV, so that six didn't stick out like a sore thumb. Once again, as a chapter with Teagan in it, there is a reference in here specifically for vehlr, of Swooping_Is_Bad, the livejournal community. Fellow Swoopers should be able to locate the joke.
As always, please remember to read and review (constructive criticism welcome).
[[ ... Pre-Chapter ..... ]]
He wasn't sure when they had become friends. It had happened slowly, of that he was certain, but one day when they were walking, it had really hit him. Any of them would die for their cause, of course, but Alistair went out of his way to defend them all. He took it upon his own shoulders to ensure that every battle, he was the one who bore the worst of the attacks. Now, blood was spilling out over the rocky terrain of the Deep Roads, and Zevran wasn't certain he could help.
He had watched the templar go down, deflecting an attack meant for the Antivan, and then the ground had started shaking. By the time the dust settled, he and the warrior were on one side of a mound of rocks that almost touched the ceiling. Between them and their mages. Wynne. He dropped to his knees, slender fingers unbuckling armor as he tried to find the wound pouring blood so thickly. Alistair was pale, unresponsive, and the elf spoke softly to him, trying to get a reaction. Get something. Anything.
He applied a poultice gently to the angry tear when he found it, and then drew the other man closer. His fingers were shaking, he realized as he lightly touched his fingertips to the side of Alistair's face, feeling the slight stubble, the texture of the skin. He drew a breath, and then he was working on the wound, fishing a scrap of cloth to use to staunch the blood flow. He bit his bottom lip as he worked, applying pressure and glancing behind himself frequently, hoping to hear the sound of the others digging through the rock.
Hazel eyes opened slowly, and, gasping for breath, Alistair reached for him blindly. Was he hurt? What sort of question was that, when the one asking it was laying on his back in mud made with his own blood? But the prince wouldn't be settled until he knew for sure that the elf was really in one piece, so Zevran answered that yes, he was fine. His hands moved to hold the other man's shoulders, keeping him still. Noble men would be the death of him.
[[ ... Chapter 9 ..... ]]
Three weeks had passed since Alistair and Julien had left, and the keep had been a nonstop bustle of activity since. Banns had come and gone, letters had been exchanged between the Queen and Zevran, and a meeting had been arranged. The four recruits had apparently been tested-- Teagan had woken up one morning to the sound of cheering from the other Wardens-- and all four had survived. This was clearly an impressive feat, as all of the other Wardens had clapped them on the back and congratulated them one by one. It also brought their numbers up to ten. Two more, and the Orlesians would leave the Fereldans to their own devices.
Teagan still didn't know how he felt about the blood mage who stood so quietly next to the Antivan in charge. Jowan had a fleeting smile, one that melted away each time he laid eyes on the Bann. Honestly, Teagan couldn't fault him for it; he still hated the mage, but he had come to terms with the simple fact that the other Wardens accepted him. He found himself watching the other man less and less intently, slowly growing accustomed to his presence. Perhaps it was familiarity, or perhaps it was simply the fact that the assassin seemed determined to shove Jowan's company down the Bann's throat.
The elf wasn't that bad otherwise. Teagan had grudgingly come to admit that to himself after watching and helping as best he could with the preparations for meeting with Anora and the Bannorn. Zevran was politically minded, able to quickly grasp complex relationships and feuds that even Teagan had difficulties remembering. Then again, considering that he had only ever gone to the Denerim court in order to go hunting with Cailan, perhaps he wasn't the best Bann to be tutoring the Grey Wardens in Ferelden politics.
However, he was the best for making the castle into a properly functioning keep. His letter, sent off the day after his arrival, had paid off about a week prior: a caravan of servants had arrived and immediately set upon Soldier's Peak with a vengeance, preparing real meals, cleaning rooms that still hadn't been touched, and dragging out little treasures from all sorts of forgotten nooks and crannies. Already, four swords and five journals had been discovered and placed in the armory and the library, respectively. Zevran seemed grateful for the help, since it freed up much of his day to handle the Bannorn. He would need almost all of that newfound time, considering it was proving much more difficult than originally anticipated to gather all of the influential in Denerim together.
No matter how full the Antivan's hands were, Teagan was enjoying himself. He didn't care for the politics though; he was much more at home, stripped of his shirt, in the forge with Levi's brother and the female Warden-- Edlyn, her name was--, learning to shape small bars of metal into useful things like nails and horseshoes. Granted, it wasn't exactly a skill he figured he'd use very often, but he enjoyed doing it all the same. The shaping of the hot metal, the weight of the hammer in his hand... Perhaps he could continue this sort of work, even back home. As a hobby.
Were it not for his duties, he would have fled Rainesfere to join the Wardens himself. As it was, he knew that he was already pushing his absence from the province. He would have to return home before much longer. Not right away, but soon.
After the trip to Denerim, he had decided, and that was when he had discovered that Zevran was leaving for the city, taking Jowan and Luthanuel with him. Teagan had immediately invited himself, not liking the idea of a blood mage in the city with the Queen, no matter the unlikely chance that Jowan would even get to see Anora. The Bann wanted to be there, just to ease his own mind.
And so, they were walking through the marketplace. Rooms had been secured in the Gnawed Noble, an inn that Zevran was apparently familiar with, and Luthanuel had asked to see the markets. He wasn't originally from Denerim, and the bustle of the city was new to him. He'd only been there for a few days when selected to join the Wardens after the Blight.
Now, he and Jowan were both exclaiming and laughing while they soaked up the enthusiasm from the crowd. It was a celebration of some kind-- something to do with the Alienage-- and everyone was cheering. The marketplace was far more packed than it normally would have been, but it also meant that there were dozens of new stalls and stores opening.
Teagan didn't understand the fascination. It was a lot of noise, a lot of jarring people who were all in a hurry to go ... somewhere. He sighed, glancing over as the elf studied trinkets in several of the vendors' stalls. Glass seemed to hold particular fascination, and when he saw the Antivan actually pull out coin, the Bann found himself looming over the other man's shoulder, curious as to what had caught his attention so.
A tiny glass figurine. A griffon perhaps. Or a mabari. It was difficult to tell, and the assassin wasn't exactly displaying his purchase. Instead, he swept it into a pocket and offered the Bann a vacant smile, his dark eyes scanning the crowd around them. Teagan scowled, frustrated by the lack of anything going on, and turned to look at Jowan, intending to demand that they head back. The expression on Jowan's face stopped him short, however, and as he turned back, he realized that his own face must have mirrored the mage's exactly.
Zevran was gone.
Deliberately, Teagan spun on his heel, looking around at the crowd. It was packed tight, difficult to see the people directly next to you, let alone see past anyone. There was no following tracks, no matter how good he was due to the sheer number of feet trampling the dirt, and he felt a tightness in his chest. Perhaps the elf had simply wandered off?
But Luthanuel was kneeling where Zevran had been standing, and he held something in one of his hands. Teagan dropped to one knee, taking it very slowly from the Warden. It was a very small pouch, one that was meant to be strapped to a body part-- such as a forearm or a calf. It was exactly the width of his fist, but it was flat. He ripped it open, pulling out a scrap of paper. There was only one line of words on it:
The Antivan Crows send their regards.
He felt his stomach drop; his hands grew cold. He glanced up at the Wardens with him, and, at their expectant expressions, his mouth went dry. Alistair was due back to the keep in three days, and unless Zevran turned up before then, he was going to kill them all for losing his second in command.
- 8
- 9
- 10
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Shades of Grey