Work Text:
The day began like any other. Varawen snuck into Zevran and Anophis's tent, where Zevran was still sleeping deeply. The mabari paused for a second, regarding his sleeping form under the blanket for a second, and then pounced on him. He'd grown rather heavy in the past seven months, due to Aina's habit of regularly feeding him treats. The hound landed on his chest, squeezing all the air out of his lungs and Zevran woke up with a start and a curse.
“Fenedhis!”
Varawen actually had the gall of grinning at him, while squashing his spleen at the same time. By this point there was no doubt in Zevran's mind. The bloody hound knew that he was doing something bad. And he didn't care. Anophis insisted mabaris simply showed their affection in a rough manner, but Zevran disagreed. It was far more likely that Varawen saw him as a large chew toy. He suspected that, somehow, it was Aina's doing.
Pushing Varawen off him, Zevran got up. Anophis had already left the tent. Up before dawn, as usual. Where did his Dalish warrior keep all that energy, considering their nightly activities? Was it a Dalish trick? A chuckle escaped his throat at the thought and Zevran shook his head with a smile.
He found Anophis at the edge of the camp. The Warden was sitting on a rock and staring at the mountains in the distance. Zevran could not be sure, but he thought this might be the same mountains where they'd fought the dragon. He snuck behind him and wrapped his arms around Anophis's torso.
“Thinking about me, amor?” He asked as he planted a kiss on the back of Anophis's neck. Anophis had just bathed; his hair was still wet and he smelled of the fancy soap that Bodahn supplied him with. “So clean and fresh! Are you perhaps preparing something special for tonight?”
“Perhaps I am.” Anophis chuckled. He turned to face him, smiling. “How are you, vhenan?”
“Sleepy.” Zevran sighed dramatically, throwing himself in the Warden's arms. Anophis embraced him, and Zevran closed his eyes for a moment, melting into his lover's strong arms. “It is that dog of yours, he will be the death of me!”
“I'm sorry.” Anophis helped Zevran settle on his lap and kissed him. His mouth tasted sweet, however, Zevran could not tell of what. “I'll talk to him.”
“I appreciate it.”
Zevran wrapped his arms around Anophis's neck and leaned in for another kiss. However, before their lips could touch, his foot accidentally kicked something. He looked down and saw an empty cup that must have been lying by their feet, but had now rolled away. Curious, he picked it up and inspected it.
“What is this, amor?”
“I had some dandelion tea.”
“Hm?” Zevran sniffed the cup cautiously. It had a light, sweet smell. “I have never heard of such a concoction. Is this a remedy of some sorts?” He turned to Anophis in mild concern. “Are you feeling ill, amor?”
“No, no, it's nothing like that.” Anophis smiled. “It's just … The hunters in my clan have a tradition we do every summer, to honour June. We try cleanse our bodies through fasting and regular bathing, and meditate and pray.”
“Oh?” Zevran inclined his head. “And you'll do this, still? But you are not a hunter any more. Surely your god cannot fault you if you refuse this practice.”
“I suppose not, but I'd like to do it nevertheless. I still consider myself a follower of June.” Anophis's hand went to his forehead, where his Vallaslin was, the lines barely visible against his dark skin. “It's only for five days, Zev.”
“But why must you do it?” Zevran pulled back a little, his confusion growing. “Forgive me, but I don't understand. You are the hero who's supposed to save this land from the Blight. How do you plan to do if you're starving yourself and growing weaker?”
Anophis shook his head. He gave Zevran a gentle squeeze, making him feel as if he was a moody child being comforted or lectured by a caring adult. The thought irritated him slightly.
“It's something I've done for years. I'll be fine, Zev.”
“I just don't understand why you'd go so far to even starve yourself for a god that's dead.”
“Because this is what I believe in,” Anophis explained. His voice was calm, but his features had hardened slightly. “Yes, fasting for five days is not easy or pleasant. But we can't only believe in something when it's convenient for us.”
“Of course you can!” Zevran exclaimed. “I pray to the Maker, and I say all the pretty words. And seeing as he gives me nothing in return, I don't intend on doing anything further for my faith.”
“Well, this is your choice, vhenan.” Anophis smiled. “My choice, however, is different. You can at least accept that, can't you.”
“I … well ...” Zevran hesitated. “I suppose I can.”
He fell silent. Religion was always something of a joke to him. It had to be, he mused. How else could one cope with all the tragedy, misery and hate in the world, if one was also expected to believe in a higher force which, it seemed, was unwilling to do anything about it?
Rinna had been devoted to Andraste. She'd pray every morning and every evening, and during assignments too. She visited the Chantry, and befriended priests, and sang hymns. Zevran would mock her efforts constantly, telling her that Andraste would be sure to ignore the devotion of a Crow. Still, she continued praying. But it didn't matter in the end, did it?
“Zev?” Anophis called out to him. He took his chin and looked in his eyes, then continued in a gentle voice. “I'm sorry. I didn't think you will be so affected by this.”
“No, it is not your fault, amor.” Zevran sighed. “I was just thinking about how the gods expect you to give them your body and soul, but they give you nothing in return. Don't you see that you are nothing to them? They will take, and take, and take from you: your adoration, your time, your life, and then, when you die, they will simply replace you with another.”
Huffing, Zevran looked away. He hadn't intended on becoming so heated and Anophis too seemed quite surprised by the outburst. Who would have thought religion of all things would be a sore topic for Zevran?
Anophis hesitated for a moment, then spoke up gently.
“I think I understand.” He moved his hand away from Zevran's chin and cupped the side of his face, running his thumb over his cheekbone. “You've had a difficult life, so it's hard for you to believe in anything. Because you've been hurt so much, you'd rather throw away your faith rather than risk being hurt even more.”
“I believe I've been quite clear about that.” Zevran smiled, a bit forcefully, then turned to Anophis with a serious look. “You … don't have an issue with this, do you? Perhaps … you would prefer being with someone who … believes in the things you do?”
“Faith is a personal choice. That's what I always thought,” Anophis replied. “I cannot fault you for your choice, nor can I chastise you. I've chosen you, as you are, and I don't want you to change one bit.”
Zevran smiled. He leaned in and pressed his forehead against Anophis's. How blessed he was, to be loved by this wonderful man? Anophis saw all his ugliness, his flaws, his sins, and loved him even more for them.
“Can I change my religion and worship you, amor?”
“Only if you want to make me uncomfortable.”
“I guess I'm stuck with the Maker then.” Zevran sighed. “But if you allow me to be serious for a moment, amor, I'd like to say that I will support what you're doing, even if I don't truly understand it.”
“Thank you. Perhaps you could join me some time?” Anophis offered. “I'm not saying you should fast, but I'll be happy to have you pray with me.”
“I'd much rather join you in your daily bathing. If your god permits it.” Zevran smirked. “Hm, what do you say, amor?”
Not waiting for an answer, he kissed Anophis again, pushing their chests together. He pushed an arm under the Warden's shirt, enjoying his warmth. Rotating his body so that he was fully facing Anophis, Zevran straddled him and ran his other hand along his thigh. Anophis's muscles twitched under his touch and he released a strained moan.
“Vhenan ...”
“Yes?” Zevran bit the tip of his ear. “What is it, amor?”
Anophis looked at him with misty eyes.
“I think I … need to take another bath. Now.”