Chapter Text
Oh, what Zevran wouldn’t give to eat carne asada con un arrozito blanco. He sighed, looking at the wooden bowl in his hands. Everything in Ferelden was brown, bland and flavorless. The warden laughed and he looked over to where she sat, noting her food was also untouched. He supposed if she cooked, everything would be burnt or just charred enough to count as “flavorful” . He snorted at his own thought.
But as he tried to force himself to at least eat the mystery vegetables floating in hot water, he had the terrible realization that the lovely warden was learning how to cook from Wynne and that simply would not do.
Zevran was no chef, excelling at murder did not always leave room for learning the art that was Antivan cooking. But he would not allow the warden to continue believing this was the epitome of homemade cuisine. Well… home was a generous term.
Nevertheless, he would find what he needed for this mission, even if it meant a little stealth and thievery. But first, he had to bring the warden over to this most noble of causes.
The perfect moment came just days later, when a sudden rainstorm forced them all to run into their tents, and whatever Wynne had cooking over the fire was left forgotten. Despite having seen her rush towards her tent, Leliel soon stepped into his, clutching something to her chest. She quickly slid out of the impractical slippers she wore at camp, setting them near his muddied boots. A sudden clap of thunder made her flinch and she laughed nervously as she came to sit beside him.
“I remembered you said it’s too cold here at night. I brought you this.” Leliel unwrapped what was in her arms, revealing a fur blanket no doubt made from the wolf pelts she had accumulated over the last several weeks.
“We haven’t seen civilization in over a fortnight,” he found himself saying to which she blushed, looking away from him.
“I’ve been meaning to give this to you. I forgot.”
Zevran smiled as he ran his hand over the blanket. It was wonderfully soft.
“You have my thanks, dear warden.”
She looked at him rather quizzically then, her brow slightly raised.
“Really?”
“It’s lovely… That it comes from you makes it all the better.”
“Oh.”
“Should I not like it?” he asked as he took the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. That blush only deepened.
“No, I mean. Yes. But I was expecting you to tell me how much better Antivan fur blankets are or something.”
Zevran chuckled.
“Ay, Leliel. You know me so well, but how could I complain when this gift came from you.”
She scoffed at this but he appreciated the little curl of her lips as she smirked.
“Well. I am glad I could at least give you one less thing to complain about, though I doubt all the furs in the world could stop you from hating Ferelden weather.”
“You are correct, my dear.”
She sighed as lightning flashed outside. “I am afraid that breakfast is ruined… I won’t be able to fix that.”
Zevran sighed, too, laying back on his bedroll, his arms folded under his head. Looking at her from this angle was rather nice.
“In Antiva, a day like this would mean asopado y pan. Though I would do atrocious things just to eat fried fish from the beaches.”
“I’ve never been to a beach before… is the fish good?”
“It’s divine, but I believe the simplest things would taste divine compared to what we eat here.”
She cleared her throat and he laughed softly.
“Take no offense, my warden. I would never dream of slandering the fruits of your labor.”
Leliel laughed, pulling the blanket off and tossing it on him. Zevran smiled bright as he brought his arms around the blanket. Leliel’s long hair spilled over her shoulders- this was a lovely angle indeed.
“You know you went to bed hungry that day. I did.”
“Nonsense! That was the most seasoned meal we’ve had in a long time.”
“I promise, next time we find a vendor I’ll buy enough spices to last us until we get to the Brecilian Forest. There’s enough gold thread in one of my dresses, I can sell it.”
“And what would you do with those spices, hm? Our darling Wynne would only squander them. Perhaps, I can show you how to make a few Antivan dishes.”
Leliel eyed him curiously before smirking.
“Alright, Arainai. I’ll hold you to it.”
******
In addition to still learning how to cook, the warden was still learning the art of haggling (she had refused his offer to steal everything she needed).But she was oddly persuasive, and beautiful, so it was not hard for anyone to succumb to her will. She sold one of her pretty dresses she had from the Tower and would have cleaned out the spice merchant’s inventory had she not found a silver necklace she insisted Morrigan needed. Everyone, even Sten, received a gift. They stayed at an inn, which meant no cooking but it meant a real bed with a roof over their heads. Even if the bed was shared with him and Alistair while Sten got to sleep alone.
And Alistair liked to cuddle in his sleep.
Zevran found himself quietly exiting their shared room, only to find Leliel doing the same thing. She covered her mouth as she laughed, closing the door to make her way towards him. She offered her hand to him and he accepted, letting her lead him towards the small sitting area that had a door that led to the balcony outside. When they stood by the balustrade, she continued to hold his hand and he simply assumed she was cold. Why else would she be standing so close to him?
“Your companions hugging you in your sleep, too?” he asked and she giggled.
“Leliana sleeps bad… I don’t remember how my mother said it. She moves too much.”
“Ah, tiene mal dormir.”
“Yes. That. And I’ve been sleeping on the ground for so long now. I haven’t had to share a bedroom with another since… since I left the Tower.”
“I could say the same.”
“You slept in a tower?” she inquired, the smile evident in her voice.
“Once or twice.”
She made a sound of disbelief and amusement before bringing her free hand over his. Her hand was warm, so perhaps that assumption of his was wrong.
“I’d never slept outside before… Even when I was a child. At least, I don’t remember it. I was sent to the Circle very young. I remember little of my life before that. But, I had a sister and we shared a bed in a small room. So at the Tower, sleeping in a room with others, sharing a bed- it wasn’t all that different.” She sighed, brushing her thumb over his hand. “ Duncan had tried to keep me comfortable before we made it to Ostagar. I must have seemed like such a spoiled princess. But he was very gracious…”
Zevran smiled. Perhaps her clothing was a bit more extravagant than necessary considering their travels and maybe, when time allowed, she spent a little too much time putting on kohl each morning. But she slept on the ground as they did each night, ate whatever they found and said nothing of it. She got her hands dirty and he’d seen her covered in blood and ichor plenty of times. Spoiled princess was not how he would describe her.
“It was hard to sleep those first few nights… I’d never left the Tower before then and while the Tower was… not the nicest place to live, I’d always had a bed to sleep on and food to eat.”
“A cage is a cage, my sweet warden. Whether it’s a tower with no escape or an assassin’s guild that would see me dead… it is hard to leave the only life you have ever known. Even if you had no choice, we both know there is no turning back now.”
They were quiet for a time, and when he heard her sniffle, Zevran found himself carefully prying his hand out of her hold, but only to wrap his arm around her. He was more than surprised that she brought her arms around him and rested her head against his chest.
“We should go back in,” she mumbled.
“We should.”
“In a little while.”
He hummed his agreement, content to hold her in his arms a little while longer.
*******
Zevran watched Leliel cut into the vegetables just as he’d instructed. He would not have her risk cutting those pretty hands if he could help it. The sleeves of her shirt- his shirt, actually, were rolled up and the hem tied at her waist. He was not sure what came over him when she had said she would go steal Alistair’s shirt to wear in place of the too white tunic she’d worn most of the day. He told her he had one for her, to keep, and her face had brightened up- no, he did not regret it.
Well. Maybe he didn’t regret giving it to her. But she kept the laces loose like he did and the damn shirt kept slipping off her shoulder and perhaps that was not how he expected to discover she wore only a bustier underneath- though why he thought he’d ever discover that was a thought for another day.
“This smells so good,” Leliel mused, and he looked at her fondly as she added potatoes to the pot. Indeed, the caldo smelled exactly as he remembered it but… was she crying? He had cut the onions for her, so why-
“Leliel?”
“My grandmother. My grandmother made this for me,” she said so pitifully he felt a lump in his throat. Even Morrigan was looking at Leliel with concern. But when the others (Not Sten, he only looked at the warden with an odd air of respect or understanding. Zevran was not sure.) tried to convince her to get away from the fire and sit elsewhere to calm down, she shook her head.
“I’m fine. I’ll finish this.” She looked at Zevran expectantly and he seemed to remember how to move.
There was not much left to do but wait until the potatoes were cooked halfway to add the meat and wait for the perfect time to add the noodles.
“I’m sorry,” she told him quietly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands.
“Whatever for?”
“I… I don’t know. For ruining dinner.”
“Nothing could ruin dinner, least of all you remembering someone so important to you.”
Leliel hiccuped and laughed at herself.
“Would you tell me about her?”
“My grandmother?” she asked and he nodded. “She was a mage, who visited us from Antiva as often as she could. Her son, my father- they’re all from Rivain but my grandfather is Antivan. My mother is from the Free Marches. But I was never able to visit my grandparents, my mother never allowed it.”
Zevran missed Antiva, even for all the terrible memories he had of it. He couldn’t imagine having no memory of his home, of not knowing the language or the food, of never once hearing the music played at all hours of the day. He couldn’t imagine knowing he had a family out there and not knowing who they were. But he and Leliel knew one another, and that had to count for something.
“So we are countrymen!” Zevran declared proudly, giving her a smile. “Now I understand why we feel so right at home with each other.”
Leliel’s pretty grey eyes widened a bit and she looked at him so… affectionately, he was taken aback. But then she smiled, brightly, and reached over to put her hand over his.
“I’m… I’m glad to know you feel the same way.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Let’s finish dinner… I’ll try to tell you what I remember, if you’d like.”
Zevran couldn’t find it in him to look away from her, from that smile and the way she looked at him. She was blushing and- Oh. Zevran blinked. Oh . She wasn’t talking about Antiva. He felt his face grow warm and he took a moment too long to remember how to speak.
“I’d like that very much, my warden.”