Tellervo wrote...
I'll just... leave this here. It's boring and short, but whatevs totally awesome. Nations and Ages Chapter 6
Fixed it for you.
I'm loving all the output from this prompt! XD (And hooray for poetry! X3) I am saving my detailed commentary for the wrap-up, though :x
I couldn't resist a bit of non-entry participation myself, so here's another sort of first kiss. An hour's worth of writing, but (since it doesn't count anyway) I took a bit more time to edit.
Across the ThresholdZevran had not left Alessar's bedside for more than a few minutes at a time for two days now. The elven Warden had been rendered unconscious after delivering the killing blow against the Archdemon, and no one was sure what to do for him. His injuries had been healed, but Wynne and First Enchanter Irving suspected that something magical was at work, and that Alessar's tainted physiology had left him vulnerable to some strange after-effects from the massive explosion of energy when the Archdemon had perished.
Alistair had only been out for a few hours, and now seemed fine; if Alessar's problem stemmed from the darkspawn taint that they both shared, why was he still unconscious? Irving theorized that it was because he had been at the center of the blast, but no one truly knew. Historically, Wardens did not survive these things; there was no precedent.
Morrigan said that Alessar would survive, but she did not say in what condition, Zevran thought grimly. The witch had disappeared after the Archdemon had fallen, and now he -- the only one besides Alessar who knew of the ritual -- could not ask her if this was to be expected or not.
What sort of "life" would this be, spent unconscious? the assassin thought.
Would he want to live like this? The two elves had never discussed such things, more worried about day-to-day survival than the unknowns of the future, but the idea of Alessar languishing in this state was painful.
But for now, Zevran would wait. Perhaps this truly was something that could be shaken off, and it would simply be a matter of time. Holding on to that hope, he had stayed by the Warden's side, quietly telling him stories of his career as a Crow, or of what the rest of their companions were doing, or how Alistair and Anora seemed to be getting along. He held a half-hearted hope that the sound of his voice might break through whatever shrouded Alessar's mind, but so far, it had not helped. Nor had gentle caresses or deep massage, smelling salts or invigorating oils. The Warden remained completely unresponsive to everything his concerned friends had tried.
It was nearly midnight on the second night, and the Antivan elf's eyes burned with exhaustion. He had snatched moments of sleep in the past two days, a handful of minutes here and there, but he couldn't last much longer that way, he knew. If Alessar woke, though, he wanted to be there, to see it, in case the other elf needed something -- even if that something was just his presence.
Or perhaps that's a bit vain of me, hmm? the assassin thought with a sardonic smile.
Maybe the first one he'd want to see upon waking is Ovden. Regardless, he'd give anything to see Alessar's blue eyes open, alert and aware.
To keep himself awake, Zevran began to sing softly, a mournful Orlesian ballad about a love affair coming to an end. His Orlesian pronunciation wasn't the best, but of course, there was no one here to correct him. As he sang, he took one of Alessar's hands in his own and idly traced the lines on his palm.
"
Sommes-nous les jouets du destin...? Souviens-toi des moments divins..." Perhaps singing such an unhappy song wasn't the best idea, but he'd always liked the tune, and it wasn't as if Alessar would understand it, even if he heard it. The elven Warden had certainly heard the melody before, because it was one of Zevran's favorites, but the assassin had never shared the lyrics, and Alessar had never asked.
He began to relax, his eyes drifting half-shut as the melancholy verses fell from his lips without conscious thought, but suddenly he felt a twitch from Alessar's hand, and he snapped into full alertness.
"Alessar?" he said softly, leaning close. The other elf's eyelids twitched. "
He estado esperando, cielo mío."
The Warden groaned softly, and his hand closed around Zevran's. "Are you..." he croaked weakly, eyes still shut.
"Am I what,
querido?" Zevran could feel his own heart racing. He wasn't sure he'd ever felt such relief in his entire life.
"Are you... alive? Am I...?" Now Alessar's eyes slowly opened, and he spent a moment rubbing them gingerly with his free hand before looking up at the assassin with that clear blue gaze. "Is this... real?"
Zevran laughed, his voice sounding high and strained in his own ears. Had his Warden come through this sound in mind as well as in body? "Of course it's real,
cielo. Why wouldn't it be?"
"I... I don't know, I just... I don't remember," the other elf said slowly. He seemed lost in thought for a moment, but then he suddenly looked up sharply. "The Archdemon--! It's... it's over, isn't it?" His eyes pleaded for it to be true.
Fortunately, Zevran wouldn't have to lie, and he finally let himself smile. "Yes, it's over,
querido. You finished it." The Warden looked at him in silence, as if he had trouble believing it; Zevran's reply was to lean close and kiss him gently, lingeringly, to prove that
this, at least, was real and true.
"Welcome to the world after the Blight,
cielo," he whispered as he pulled away. He was rewarded with a tired, but genuine, smile.
----
(Zevran's bit of song is from
"Protège moi" by Placebo. :3)
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)
. When the Talissen encounter happened, she was so surprised he didnt pull a Leske on her ! Thats when it really start for them...
). I'm glad you liked it.
