Zevran's favorite flower is the forget-me-not.
1 It was the most delicate and prettiest little thing he had ever seen. A blue porcelain flower with the tiniest hint of gold around to fasten it to the thin chain. He couldn't remember the woman's face, but he still had the image of it resting against her soft, golden skin in his mind. A gift from one of her suitors, she told him. She wasn't his mother, but as close as it got, taking a fancy to him over the other orphans scrambling about. "It's called a forget-me-not, caro," she said, her voice soft and warm. "I won't forget you," he declared with all the earnesty of a child and she laughed. "I know you won't, caro." 2 She did not sell it, and Zevran remembered it tickling him when she put him to bed. Pretty and blue with a hint of gold. "I won't forget," he always said, and the woman always laughed. But when he saw her last, cold and dead, the necklace was gone. There was nothing pretty left, no blue and gold. "Thought it might buy medicine to save her but guess 'twas too late," another woman said, shrugging. "Might as well keep the coin." She grabbed his hand, hard, uncaring that he was still sniffling through tears. "Come on now, boy, you've been sold as well." He wailed and screamed, but she pulled him away. 3 He lay in the dirt, and everything hurt. He hadn't known just how much he could hurt. It would be easier to just keep laying here, he decided, cheek in the bloodied sand, hands bruised from training. Let it end. Let the hurt end. Someone screamed at him to get up, to fight and kill, but Zevran no longer wanted to. Let the other boys kill him. Let them. Let them. The clouds shifted, somewhere far above, and a sunray found something blue at the edge of the arena. Delicate and dusty, but resilient, and Zevran blinked. Pretty and blue with a hint of golden sunlight. Forget-me-not. "I won't," he murmured and pushed himself back up. 4 "What's this?" Rinna laughed as he offered her the little blue flower. "Aww, Zev, you shouldn't have." "It's pretty, just like you," he said with a bow and a wink. "Pretty?" she quipped with a raised eyebrow. "Darling, I am more than pretty." She gave him a wide smile and put her arms around his neck, letting the flower fall down. "I am beautiful," she murmured against his lips and he chuckled, warmth running through him as he pulled her close. "You are right, of course." He brought her roses after that, roses red as the blood that gushed from her neck as he killed her and everything soft that was left inside his heart. 5 "My dear Warden, whatever are you looking at that keeps you so occupied?" Zevran asked, giving Fian a bright smile as she jumped and quickly turned towards him. Red dots appeared on her cheeks, as if she couldn't decide whether to blush, be angry or embarrassed that he had managed to sneak up on her. He thought it both endearing and satisfying, knowing that she rarely blushed, and when she quickly hid something behind her back, a curious spark came to his eyes. "Don't tell me I need to be jealous of whatever it is you're hiding," he teased. "What? No! No, of course not," she stammered, clearly taken by surprise. "So your heart still belongs to me, I am satisfied to hear it," Zevran smirked, laughing as she gave him a dark look that stood in clear contrast to the now very obvious blush on her cheeks. "Stop it, Zev," she growled utterly unconvincing. When he just continued to smirk, she sighed and showed him the delicate little blue flower in her hand. "It's just a flower, nothing more." She bit her lip, oblivious to the way he stared at the flower. "A Forget-Me-Not, I see," he murmured, catching himself. Zevran offered his open palm to her. "May I?" When she hesitated, he cocked an eyebrow. "Just a flower?" "Fine," she snapped. "My favourite flower, alright? I know they're not as fancy as Alistair's roses or Leliana's Andraste's Grace, but they're..." Fian shrugged, running a delicate finger over the flower. "Resilient and beautiful." After another second of hesitation she put it carefully into Zevran's open hand. "So don't mock me,
please." "I won't," he promised quietly, and a careful smile came onto Fian's face. "And you are right," he added, now with the hint of a tease in his voice as he eased back into his usual role and came closer to her to put it into her hair, brushing a golden strand behind her pointed ear. She froze under his careful touch, eyes wide as she looked up at him. "They are beautiful. Just like you." It was enough to make her push at him so he took a step backward again, a wide grin on his face. "I said don't mock me," she scolded him. Zevran put a hand on his heart in a dramatic gesture. "My dear Warden, I never mock a woman's beauty," he declared. "Tsk. Right," Fian scoffed and turned away to catch up with the others. But he noticed the look she threw back at him over her shoulder and the heat still lingering in her cheeks. And she did not take the flowers from her hair, and when she thought he wasn't looking, she touched them gingerly and with a secret smile. As Zevran looked at the delicate flower in her hair, something inside him he had no longer known was even there softened. Pretty and blue with a hint of gold. And he smiled.
