Zevran Arainai x F!Surana
Mihril Surana has never kissed anyone. A strict and sheltered upbringing in the Circle made that difficult. Given the dangers of their current mission, she does not want to miss out on the experience. During a quiet evening she brings the subject up with Zevran.
Content Warnings: There is some angst towards the end (with a happy ending), Implied suicidal thoughts because Zevran explains the personal reason as to why he took the contract on the warden
This was meant to be a fluffy piece, but somehow I found an opportunity for some good ol' angst as well.
Word Count: 2997 words
It was a rather quiet evening at camp for once. Most of the companions had already withdrawn for the night, wanting to be well rested for the next day. Zevran, however, had found Mihril sitting near Lake Calenhad, staring up at the vast sky dotted with bright stars. She smiled at him once she noticed his presence and patted the spot next to her for him to come sit next to her. It was an offer he graciously accepted.
They sat there in silence for a while, enjoying the silence the night brought with it after near a full day of hard battles against many darkspawn. It was peaceful. Serene even. It was something Zevran found that he could get used to. Perhaps if he survived the ordeals his dear warden brought him to then a life of peace could be well within reach.
“I have never kissed anyone before.” Mihril suddenly murmured softly next to him. Zevran’s eyes widened in surprise as he turned to look at her. It was most certainly not the way he had expected a conversation between them to start. The tips of her long ears had turned the most adorable shade of pink, and she was pointedly refusing to meet his gaze. Her gaze was instead firmly trained on the lake.
“Never?” He echoed back curiously. It was a surprising fact to learn. Mihril Surana, the brave warden leading them all, always seemed so confident and going for what she wanted with determination. She did not shy away from flirting openly, as had been evident throughout their continued banter of the course of their travels so far. But now? Now she seemed almost bashfully shy. Innocent. Not at all what he had expected from the woman who had so brazenly admitted to checking out his, according to her exact words, beautiful buttocks the other day without so much as batting an eye. Zevran would have thought that she would have at least kissed or been kissed. Clearly he had been mistaken on that part.
“Never.” She sighed wistfully, staring back up at the stars twinkling in the sky. “And it is not from a lack of trying. I have been rejected twice and the one time I was able to get close to kiss someone, we got interrupted by a templar in the tower with a massive stick up his arse.”
Mihril sat up straighter. A look of annoyance crossing her beautiful features. “Then my best friend, whom I thought I knew, turned out to be a bloody blood mage which nearly got us all killed and then I got recruited to the wardens to avoid a sordid fate in the tower.” She sighed, plucking up the cup of water that had been sitting next to her and taking sip from it. “There really has not been any time since that chain of events started to kiss someone.” She finished with a slight shrug of her shoulders.
“My dear warden, who in their right mind would reject someone as lovely as you?” Zevran teased, nudging her shoulder gently with his.
Mihril let out a laugh at that. “His name was Noah Walton. He was a year older than me in the tower. Every young mage had a crush on him. I worked up the courage to ask him out. He said no, he did not want to kiss a knife-ear.” She rolled her eyes, seemingly looking like she was remembering back to that exact conversation. “My crush disappeared immediately after that.” She continued.
“Then there was Ines Karner. We were friends for some time at first, but then she rejected me because she had already found a girlfriend. We still remained friends, even if it was a bit awkward at first. And lastly, there was Adam Renou. We managed to hide away one evening in the library. We were a mere inch away when a templar came storming into our hiding place, shouting at us to get back to the dormitories or he would report us both to Knight-Commander Greagoir to say we were conspiring to use blood magic.”
“That seems like a bit of an overreaction, no?” Zevran mused, not that the Crow’s had been any better when it came to fraternization within the organization. Mihril scoffed in annoyance.
“Tell me about it. I swear most of them never knew how to have fun.” Finally she turned to look at him, and he saw her cheeks were now turning just as pink as the tip of her ears had been. Her big blue eyes looked up at him with something akin to hope. Her lips parted, then closed again. It seemed she was waging a battle with her thoughts.
“Would you… kiss me then?” She asked eventually, a slight quiver in her voice.
Zevran’s heart jumped in his chest hearing those words coming from her. Those were the sweet words he had wished to hear from her at one point. He leaned closer to her with a smile playing on his lips. It had her eyes widening ever so slightly, and her lips parted in a small gasp at the sudden proximity between them. “I would love to, my dear warden, but only if this is something you truly want.”
Her eyes fell to his lips before she looked back up at him and nodded. “I want to.” She whispered in affirmation, leaning closer as well. Their lips were so close, almost touching. She took a shuddering breath. He could see that the anticipation was getting to her. He placed a hand on her cheek. Her eyes fluttered close at that, and that was when he moved in the last remaining distance between them. Pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. Her hands went to his chest, clutching lightly at his loose shirt.
“Oh, Zevran.” She murmured as they broke apart, their foreheads still touching. Her blush had now deepened to a redder color, and Zevran found that he would not grow tired of seeing her flustered like this. In fact, he would make it a mission to fluster her more. It was incredibly adorable.
“So then, my dear warden, how was your first kiss?” He asked out of curiosity, brushing his lips against hers again for a brief moment. One he pulled back she nearly chased after him, seemingly wanting more, which had him chuckle. “I am open to constructive feedback.” He added with a teasing note.
She pursed her lips, and he could see the mirth in her expression. “It was nice, but I will need a few more to accurately form an opinion on the matter.” He grinned against her, Mihril, ever the studious scholar on all matters.
“Well, who am I to deny you your research?” She giggled at his response before taking the initiative for another kiss. She moved to straddle across him, effectively placing her in his lap and giving her easier access to him. She grasped the lower half of his face in her hands. One of her thumbs tracing gently across his lips.
“They feel so soft.” She murmured, studying his lips like a scholar would study their research. She proceeded to pepper him with short and brief kisses that made him laugh at her eagerness. “I think I quite enjoy kissing you.”
“Well, there are many more ways of kissing than just these pecks too, my dear warden.” At his words Mihril pulled back in surprise, seemingly processing this new piece of information.
“Really?”
“Will you allow me to demonstrate?” He had barely finished his sentence before she was nodding her eager approval.
Zevran leaned forwards, cupping her face ever so gently with his hands. This close he could see that her eyes were not just blue, but also sparkled with a dash of light green around the irises. He tilted her head up and went in for another kiss, a peck like the first ones had been, and he could see her brows furrow adorably in confusion. He grinned into the kiss before lightly running his tongue against her lips. Almost on instinct her lips parted on a gasp, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. To explore her. To taste her. At the new sensation, Mihril let out a noise so close to a moan, melting into him. He found the noise to be music to his ears, and he wanted to hear more of it. Her hands wrapped around him to tangle in his hair, and he let out a soft groan at the sensation. In retaliation he lightly bit at her lower lip, before tracing it with his tongue.
Something about kissing her felt different. He could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He was growing to really care for her, possibly even love her, which to him was a startling realization. One he wasn’t sure was positive or negative yet. He hadn’t felt an emotion like this in… years. Zevran pulled back, and the sight before him left him almost breathless. Mihril was panting slightly, her eyes dilated as she looked up at him with her face still flushed. Not it was his turn to trace a thumb across her lower lip. He wanted to do nothing more than devour her right then and there.
“Zevran…”
“You are a stunning woman, my dear.”
She let out a breathless laugh at that. “You are trying to fluster me even more.”
Zevran could not help but grin. “And? Is it working?”
Mihril playfully rolled her eyes, shoving his shoulder lightly. “You should be able to tell that rather easily. I am pretty sure my face is about to catch fire.” She wasn’t wrong. Any more teasing and his beloved warden would probably combust on the spot.
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “This coming from the woman who so openly compliments me.”
“Well, those things are just me speaking the truth.” She argued back. “I have no problems speaking truths.”
Zevran paused. Something about the way she phrased that struck him as odd. He decided to pluck at the string, although he had an inkling that it would not be the most joyful of topics. “Do you not believe my compliments for you to be truths then?” He asked her. She sucked in a sharp breath of surprise before sitting straight back in his lap.
“It- Well, it is just that you seem to say those sweet words to almost everyone. I did not think that you would mean it, especially not everything you have said to me.” It stung a little to hear her say she had barely believed a single word of his compliments and affections.
Zevran pulled her closer again, missing her warmth already. Gently he took one of her hands in his and brought it up to his lips. “My dear warden, I have meant every word I have said to you. I do not want you to doubt that, because you are a remarkable woman.”
“I am just…” She began, casting her eyes downwards. “I am just being me. I do not feel remarkable.” He opened his mouth to say something when she held up her other hand, indicating that she wanted to continue speaking.
“I have lived an incredibly sheltered life. That is just an established fact. The Circle of Magi does not exactly prepare you to live outside its wall. Truth be told, until Duncan appeared, I had accepted that my fate was to remain inside those walls until I die of old age. Then any and all fraternization between mages are discouraged, and all our subjects are centered magic and its dangers to us.” Mihril let out a sigh. “I knew every little corner and secret of the circle. I knew everyone by name, even the templars. Out here? I feel like I am fumbling in the dark, trying to find my way and falling over every rock in my path. I am having to learn about the reality of the world whilst actively trying to save it at the same time. So it is hard for me to believe that someone like you could find someone like me of all people, remarkable.”
“Someone like me?” He echoed, raising a brow.
“Handsome. Charismatic. Funny. Strong. I can continue listing more adjectives if you want. They will all be fitting and true for you.” She shrugged with a small smile.
“It is doing wonders for my ego, my dear warden.” Zevran chuckled in response. “But perhaps we can save the praise for my handsome self for some other time. Right now I want to focus on you, because you seem to be forgetting a tiny but incredibly significant detail.” She looked at him in confusion.
“You defeated me in combat.”
Mihril scoffed. “Only because I had Alistair, Morrigan and Leliana with me.”
“Ah, ah. There you go again, my dear warden. You are downplaying yourself. I will not allow it.” Zevran tsk’d, tracing his thumb across the back of her hand even as he was gently chastising her. “You held your own against a trained assassin. That trick with the vines was particularly ingenious. I was not expecting it.”
She let out a soft laugh at the praise from him. “It was quite a spectacular faceplant to the ground that you did.” There was a sudden glint in her eye. “But I do want a rematch at a later date. I do not think that fight was you are your full strength.”
He raised a brow. “Oh? And what gave you that idea?”
“This.” She moved her leg to pluck the tiny dagger strapped to his upper thigh out. “My vines restricted your arms to your side after I tripped you. You could have easily broken free by grabbing it and cutting through the vines, but you did not. Not even when I turned around, distracted by the battle behind us.”
Zevran smiled. She was a sharp one she. Truth be told, he had hoped Mihril would bring an end to him, so when she had bound him with her vines, he could not find the will to break free. He swallowed. Mihril being a sheltered circle mage was perhaps the only reason why he was still alive. Maker knows none of the other companions would have spared him like she did, and he was beyond grateful for that fact. She had seen something in him when he himself and her companions had not. She should have listened to the objections presented to her, and yet she had stood her ground with her morals and held a hand out to him. She had offered him hope and a second chance at life.
“Why was that?” He blinked himself out of his memories as he heard Mihril speak again.
“Hm?”
“You were contracted by Loghain to kill me, an ambitious contract that would have you set for life from what I have heard, and yet you did not bring your full strength to bear. Why was that?” It was a question born out of genuine curiosity, but he wondered how she would react if he told her the real reason for it.
It would be so easy to lie with a smile, draw the conversation away into far more pleasant topics. Instead, he found himself wanting to tell her the truth. His hands wrapped around her, and he sighed as his gaze moved up to stare at the night’s sky.
“Because it was meant to be my final mission.” He said eventually. His voice sounding uncharacteristically serious even to himself.
“Final mission? Were you planning on retiring from the Crows?”
That drew a sharp bark from him. “No, my dear warden. On does not simply retire from the Crows, not without paying for it with your life.”
“Then what were-“ Mihril let out a noise of shock as it seemed she had been able to reason it out. “You were intending to die at my hands!” He returned his gaze to hers, and was met a sorrowful expression. Her eyes rapidly welling up with unshed tears.
“That is why fought me with less than you are capable of.” Her brows drew together. “But what I do not understand is why? Why would you want to die?”
He gave a half-smile. One that he could feel did not reach his eyes. “Because my spirit was broken, and I could no longer see the light of living. I could not feel any joy, nor could I continue my work for the Crows. It was only a matter of time before they realized I was no longer of use to them. I did not wish to give the Crows the satisfaction of taking my life. I wanted it to happen on my own terms, hence I bid for the contract on your life. The contract had already been deemed a suicide mission to most Crows, so I figured that was my ticket out.”
“Gods…” Mihril blinked and a tear rolled down her cheek. He brought his hand up, and used his thumb to gently wipe it away. Her lips were trembling with the effort of holding her emotions back.
“There is no need to cry for me, my dear. I would not want to trade what happened for anything in the world.” That did not seem to make her struggle any less with holding back her tears. Instead she began to rapidly blink and look away from him in what looked like an attempt to not cry more than she had already done.
“Mihril.” It was the first time he was saying her name plainly, instead of using his assigned nickname for her. It seemed to catch her off-guard as her head whipped back to him with a questioning look. “You were the one who brought the light back to me.” He whispered before leaning in and capturing her lips once more in a searing kiss.
Fanfiction is supposed to be cringy. You're allowed to write bad. You're allowed to be cringe. Fanfiction is supposed to be self indulgent. You're allowed to be cringe. Let yourself be cringe. Fanfiction is supposed to be fun. Stop putting arbitrary rules on yourself and be free.
I feel like some people need to relearn Genre Expectations... "Man, this tragedy sucks!!! Why didn't they just do XYZ, then everything could have ended happily!!" well, then it wouldn't be a tragedy, would it. "Man, this lighthearted teen romcom is terrible, it's so sappy and unrealistic!!" Well, yeah. If it had been gritty and dark, it wouldn't have been a lighthearted romcom, would it. Is the writing actually bad or are you just trying to order a milkshake from a Home Depot
“Is the writing bad or are you just trying to order a milkshake from a Home Depot”
I feel like that should be the canned response to anyone who complains in your fic’s AO3 comments about the [thing] when the [thing] is clearly tagged.
I think that when you're overstimulated you should appear kind of grayed out and no one should be able to interact with you like a locked character in a video game
#I feel like if people are going to argue that pyramid isn't a normie pick then gantu can't be a normie pick#so I voted no#but i also think both of them are intended to be attractive in a general way so in my heart they're obvs a normie yes#idk maybe my argument here is that normies don't even notice what they like half the time
DAI is in its renaissance era, thanks to datv. Despite the drama so hilarious. It's been said hundred times but I'm going to say it once again: DAI Solas is such a gem. Born to be a comedian, forced to be the Dread Wolf.
Solas to Inquisitor: I'm not a self-taught actually.
Solas to Iron Bull: I'm a self-taught, you see.
Solas to Cassandra: Maker? Uh-huh, why not, I am always open to new ideas. What? Your religion is about 2000 years old? Pretty much new to me idk.
Solas to Varric: I am sorry to bother you questions about your people. You see, I don't know anything about dwarves because they're not dreaming.. also here's my 1000 pages essay about dwarven economy with tips on how to improve it.
Solas to elves: My people. Not my people. Your people. Our people.
Solas, in general: I am nothing but a humble apostate. Lived most of my life alone in the woods, avoiding templars, people and etc. But I miss court intrigues. And, obviously, was at war. What war? Not important, haha. Also I have at least three PhD, professional artist skillfully handled ancient painting technique and translate old tractates for fun. How? ADHD, and I'm taking adderall. I guess.
Man literally waltzes through the DAI with veil runes fake it till you make it on his face.
Kinda sad he's not having so much fun in datv though.
