What is it? ZevWarden week is a prompted week event to celebrate Zevran Arainai and his beloved Warden. We will be sharing newly created fan works during the event! Please keep in mind this event is 18+!
When is it? In 2025 ZevWarden week will be in August, 17th-23rd!
How to participate: You can follow the daily prompts for inspiration or post new ZevWarden content! We will be reblogging all kinds of fan works: fics, art, edits, gifs, meta - anything goes! Please remember to properly tag your post, including nsfw, content warnings, and trigger warnings.
Tag your content with #zevwarden week 2025 or tag @zevraholics on your post and we will reblog it!
If you're not sure what to tag, here's a link to what we tag for!
*Note: Any art, edits, etc. found to be whitewashing Zevran will not be shared.
Here are this year's prompts (full descriptions under the read more):
Sunday, August 17: Wealth, gold, relationship with money
Monday, August 18: Family, legacy, etc
Tuesday, August 19: Bondage, bdsm
Wednesday, August 20: Loyalty
Thursday, August 21: Purpose
Friday, August 22: Growth, reform
Saturday, August 23: Favorite features
Day 1 - Sunday, August 17 - Wealth, gold, relationship with money
"Ahh, an untouched treasure! What wonders await us here?"
How well-off are Zev and the warden after the Blight? Do they come across any trove of wealth or do they live modestly? What is their relationship to money? Do they pamper each other? What is your HC for the Warden giving Zev the bars of gold we see in canon?
Day 2 - Monday, August 18 - Family, legacy
"And what of family? Of children? Life does not begin and end with yourself."
What are their thoughts on children? Do Zev and the warden ever have or adopt any of their own? If so, what kind of parents are they? If not, are they ever around other people's children?
Day 3 - Tuesday, August 19 - Bondage, BDSM
"Are you sure you do not wish to tie me up? Not even a little?"
Do you HC Zev as saying such things as flippant jokes or as real interest and desire? Do Zev and the warden get up to any kinds of kink? What are their preferences in that department? How do they develop that kind of intimate relationship?
Day 4 - Wednesday, August 20 - Loyalty
"I am a very loyal person. Up until the point where someone expects me to die for failing."
Was Zev loyal to the warden from the very moment he promised to help them, or does that loyalty develop with time? Is that loyalty ever tested? What about the other way around? Is the warden loyal to Zev from the start, or are they suspicious of him at first? If so, when does that change?
Day 5 - Thursday, August 21 - Purpose
"What we are doing here...stopping the Blight. I cannot think of anything i have ever done which is so worthy."
At what point does Zev start thinking that what they're doing is truly worthwhile? In what ways aside from fighting does he support the warden through such an insurmountable task? How does he feel, when it's all over? Does he recognise the part he played or does he see himself as a sidekick?
Day 6 - Friday, August 22 - Growth, reform
"My name is Zevran Arainai, adventurer and occasional assassin."
When does Zev go from calling himself an Antivan Crow to seeing himself as an adventurer? What does ‘occasional assassin’ look like in your HCs? What contracts does he still take? Do Zev and the warden adventure together or do they keep a long distance relationship while the warden runs Vigil’s Keep and he travels?
Day 7 - Saturday August 23 - Favorite features
"He didn't say how handsome" "Oh, so you've noticed! I credit my high cheekbones and pouty lips."
What are the features and traits, physical or not, that they each love the most about the other? How do they express that admiration? What do they like the most about themselves? Are they both confident, or are there hidden or obvious insecurities?
Frey doubted Zevran would accept such gifts without any conditions or expectations attached. So he decided to "hire" him, the only person he truly trusted with his life, to never let get lost himself in the Calling.
Frey never coped with joining the Grey Wardens. It was like losing control over his life, and he was terrified to share Tamlen's and commander Sophia's fate.
late as fuuuuck fic for zevwarden week day 3: bondage/bdsm. my headaches killed me this month but better late than never<3
“What luxury to finally make myself comfortable in a real bed,” Zevran sighed. He lay reclined on a stack of threadbare pillows stolen from other rooms, a glass of brandy in one hand and the end of an expensive leather leash in the other. Luxury wasn’t exactly the right word for the stiff mattress that was theirs for the night, but it might as well have been wyvern-down when put next to a salvaged bedroll laid on dirt and pebbles. “A shame that you will not be able to join me in appreciating its joys, hm, little pup?”
Laevis growled through bared teeth, glaring up at Zevran from where he knelt beside the bed, splintered floorboards scratching his shins. While Zevran was clothed in a laced shirt and trousers, Laevis wore nothing but the collar around his neck and the iron muzzle in the shape of a canine snout over his nose and mouth, adorned with folded ears where the leather straps ran across the top of his head.
A quick tug on the leash settled him into a subservient silence. “Now, now. There is no need to be difficult.” Zevran swirled his glass and took a sip. “I already told you, the rule is ‘no dogs on the bed.’ You would make such a mess of it, I’m afraid.”
All Laevis offered in response was a grumble. He pawed at the ground irritably before circling around on all fours and laying with his chin on his hands in a huff.
The collar was tight around his throat like this, and the leather digging into his skin sent a jolt of heat to his cock. As Zevran hummed and nursed his drink, no attention paid to his pup, Laevis angled his head to press the collar into his throat, chasing some kind of pleasure that wouldn’t get him reprimanded. He’d already earned a warning slap on the cheek for trying to hump the floor and a soft kick to the ribs for using a hand to stroke his dick. “You are a beast, so act like one,” Zevran had said when Laevis whimpered at the pain in his side. “No hands, no words, no getting off your knees. Do you understand?”
And Laevis had hung his head, an implied yes, master in his sorrowful bark.
It had been Laevis’s idea to get a room at the Gnawed Noble for a night, to skip making camp in favor of blankets and sheets that it wasn’t their job to wash. They’d announced their plans to spend the night in Denerim, and Laevis was sure he’d heard a collective thank the Maker from everyone in the room—he and Zevran had never exactly concerned themselves with keeping their volume down, much to the bane of everyone else’s existence, and he admittedly wouldn’t blame them for being relieved to have even one rest uninterrupted by moans and growls from the tent in the far corner of camp.
Once they had arrived in the market district, Zevran had gone to acquire their reservation, and Laevis had taken a left toward Wade’s, slipping inside without ringing the bell. It always gave him a laugh to make Herren jump, though Herren was decidedly less and less amused every time Laevis flashed his winning smile after jumping at him from behind.
He and Zevran had put in a special request for the muzzle a few weeks before. The thin lie that it was “for the mabari” wasn’t one of Laevis’s most convincing, but Wade had begrudgingly agreed to make it when a large enough satchel of pilfered gold and drakeskin was tossed onto the counter along with a quickly broken promise to stop startling Herren for entertainment.
It was expertly made, as everything tanned and forged by Wade’s hand was. Adjustable straps and buckles, latches that allowed the iron muzzle to be removed from the leather frame, and ears that fell somewhere between dog and wolf in shape, exactly how they had requested. The leather wasn’t the smoothest, and it was stiff as a board compared to the Antivan-crafted collar Laevis wore with it. But the fact that they’d been able to have it made at all was satisfying enough.
Laevis was through the door and inside the Gnawed Noble before Herren had managed to sarcastically thank him for his patronage. He was already half-hard in anticipation, eager for Zevran to fasten it over his fiery locks, scratch him behind the ear, leash him and scold him like a kennel master training a difficult pup.
Zevran, of course, had made him beg for it first. He had tackled Laevis onto the floorboards and flipped him onto his hands and knees, deft fingers and silver tongue working him open until his hole gaped when it was left empty, stranding Laevis on the brink with his cock untouched and pleas on his lips for Zevran to either give him the release he wanted or bring him to heel like he truly craved. Zevran, satisfied with his wanton desperation, had answered by commanding Laevis to sit and stay as he fastened the muzzle’s straps around his head and praised his easy obedience—obedience that didn’t last all too long, as once the leash was clipped to his collar, Zevran stopped giving him any relief. It had been close to an hour, now, since Laevis had assumed the role of the loyal dog at the foot of his master’s bed, and the nearest he’d gotten to another touch between his legs was a condescending squeeze of his ass.
“Don’t you pout, little hound,” Zevran cooed as he finished off his drink. He set the glass down on the bedside table, and now that he had a hand free, he leaned over to scoop Laevis’s chin up patronizingly. “I promised to give you a treat if you behaved, did I not?”
Laevis gasped for air as the pressure of the collar against his neck was released, and Zevran cocked an eyebrow. “Ah-ah, were you enjoying yourself without permission? Naughty pup,” he chided, dragging two fingertips over the red mark that was left behind.
“I am tempted to let this one slide, you know. It has been quite a while since I have paid you attention, and I admit I am beginning to pity you. But it is almost as if you want to be punished.” He held Laevis’s face more tightly, pulling him so close that the muzzle bumped against his nose. “Do you?”
A whimper escaped from Laevis’s mouth unbidden. He shook his head—as much as he was able to in Zevran’s grip—and he had to bite his tongue to hold back a plea for any kind of touch, any kind of pleasure, whether Zevran’s dick inside him or his fingers, or even just permission to grind his cock against Zevran’s leg and hump him like an animal. Anything would do, now, as long as it was something.
“I see.” Zevran released him, leaning back on the bed as Laevis breathed heavily. He appeared to think for a moment—a long moment, torturously so, and Laevis’s eyes tracked his movements like a hunting hound. A tilt of his head as he considered an idea, a scrunch of his nose as he discarded it. A glance toward his empty glass on the nightstand. An exhale, a hum, and finally he got to his feet, pulling Laevis with him by the leash and tying it to the bedpost furthest from the door, just an excuse to make his pup crawl on the floor a bit, put his dirty paws to use.
When Zevran was sure his knot was secure, he patted the top of Laevis’s head. “I am going to get another bottle,” he announced, making his way to the door. “And when I return, I shall… I have plans for you, little hound. Worry not.” With that, he spun around and left the room, locking the door behind him, and Laevis listened until his footsteps disappeared around the corner and down the hallway toward the bar.
Left alone like this, Laevis wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He sat at attention for a while, waiting as patiently as he could, but Zevran was taking longer than he’d expected—maybe there was a long line at the bar, or maybe he’d run into a friend. Or, equally likely, an enemy. If Zevran disappeared, there was always a chance he’d come back splattered with blood, a shrug his only explanation as he wiped his daggers clean.
Whatever the reason, he’d been gone for nearly five minutes, and Laevis was beginning to grow restless. Idly, he raised a hand to his neck and ran his fingers over the collar that kept him bound to the bedpost. Butter-soft Antivan leather encircling his throat, steel rings and clasps that made him shiver when they touched his skin—and at the back of his neck, a padlock barely larger than his thumbnail, threaded through the buckle weeks ago by knife-callused fingers as he knelt just like this on his bedroll, holding his breath until he heard the click that secured him as wholly and undeniably Zevran’s.
“This is more of a symbolic gesture than anything,” Zevran had said with a chuckle as he tucked the key into a secure inner compartment of his pack. It clinked against something else small and metallic as it hit the bottom of the pouch, but Zevran fastened it before Laevis could ask. “With your tricky little fingers, you could take this off anytime you like.”
Laevis had snorted, and he fished a lockpick out of his pile of discarded clothes. “I could,” he teased. “The lock’s a little small, and it’s a bit of a weird angle, but it’s nothing I haven’t done before.”
Zevran had climbed on top of him, then, pinning pale wrists into the bedroll with one hand, snatching the lockpick with the other—but he was met with little resistance from Laevis, who only grinned as he was overpowered. “Mm, true enough. But you won’t.”
“No, I won’t,” Laevis had said, grinding his cock up into Zevran’s, the desire that consumed him only intensified by the feeling of being his, of Zevran having a power over him that no one else ever could: a lock and a key and a collar, a secret and a confession and a promise. His soul belonged to the Grey Wardens, his blood to the Alienage that raised him—but his body, that could only belong to the man who lay atop him, who held the end of his leash, who forced his tongue past Laevis’s lips and teeth like it would shrivel and wither away if it didn’t bury itself in the depths of his mouth and anchor itself to his throat.
His heart, though—that was another matter. His body could be held, could be fucked and kissed and bitten, could be reddened by a strike to freckled skin or covered by a shirt or a bandage. It could be bruised, sliced, or burned, even torn apart by wolves: no matter what happened, he could say without a doubt that it was Zevran’s, that his scratched-out eye and his bow-worn hands would be cared for by the bird that fled its cage. But his heart was less willing to be tamed, less willing to take a master. It darted away at the first sign of danger and burrowed in nettle-thick grass; it was prey that feared being caught and eaten, the mouse that hid from the crow’s clever talons as its shadow loomed overhead.
His heart a mouse, his body a hound: he could smell it through the wildflowers, bleeding where a thorn pricked its tail, and he knew it could only run for so much longer until the crow spotted it and snatched the little rodent up for its own.
Would the crow tear into it and rip out its innards, fur and bone clinging to its feathers; or would it offer the mouse solace, tend to its wound; or even slice itself with its beak so they could bleed together, both weak and afraid, but neither one alone?
A key turned in a lock, and Laevis jumped, moving his hand away from the collar like it would burn him if he touched it any longer. “I have returned with refreshments,” Zevran called, shutting the door behind him, a bottle of wine held under one arm. His eyes lit up when he saw Laevis sitting obediently on his knees, and the mouse inside Laevis squeaked and tried to flee.
“Calm, dear pup, or I fear your tail may rip itself from your body by wagging with too much excitement.” Laevis frowned as Zevran locked and bolted the door—was it so obvious, the way his heart yearned to be captured, that Zevran could see it in his face? “Well, there is no need to sulk, either,” Zevran said with a smile and a pat on his cheek, and when did he get so close? “You have waited long enough. I would say you have earned a treat, no?”
Laevis barked fervently, his muzzle bumping into Zevran’s hand. “Adorable,” Zevran murmured fondly. Blood rushed both to Laevis’s cheeks and to his cock, and he’d almost forgotten how needy he’d been, so fixated on his vulnerable heart that the throbbing between his legs startled him back to the present with a shuddering moan. Zevran laughed, his fingers gently scratching behind Laevis’s ear, drawing out a string of uncontrollable whimpers. “My, you are quite worked up, aren’t you? Does the little hound want his reward?”
Another bark, louder and firmer, and Zevran kissed the tip of his muzzle, then he stood and began to untie the leash from the bedpost. “He has been a good boy, after all,” Zevran mused as he worked the knot open. “Not perfectly good, but training a dog is far less punishing than training a Crow. And I think of myself as a generous master. Come, my sweet—on your hands and knees. I still cannot allow you on the bed, unfortunately, but we will make do with the floor.”
The pet name was another nail in the mouse’s coffin, pinning its little tail into the wooden slats and ensuring it couldn’t run any further. Laevis felt his heart pounding as talons descended upon it. He saw the crow’s shadow, sharpening like a knife as it closed in on its prey, not close enough yet to pluck the mouse from where it lay helpless on the ground, but the threat felt more like an inevitability now, a when instead of an if.
A tug on his leash made him release the breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding. “This way, pup,” Zevran said, slightly firmer, and Laevis didn’t hesitate to follow this time, making himself comfortable with his knees on the folded blanket Zevran had lain on the floor.
Zevran knelt behind him with a pleased hum and a kiss to the small of his back. “Just like that,” he cooed, stroking Laevis’s ass and spreading his cheeks, trailing kisses lower and lower until soft lips hovered over his wanting hole. Laevis trembled at the feeling of hot breath on his rim.
“Mm, is this what you want? Or would you prefer something more?” Zevran’s words sent a shiver down Laevis’s spine, and he could only respond with a pathetic noise somewhere between a bark and a whine. The resulting laugh tickled against his skin. Zevran bit into his plush ass and sucked on the skin between his teeth, making Laevis yelp; seemingly satisfied, he pulled back and gently stroked the mark he left. “Ah, I know what you desire. You wish for me to fill you, don’t you, my pet? You are desperate, in heat, and the only balm to soothe your aching is my spend deep inside you, marking you as mine. Am I correct?”
An affirmative whimper, a shake of his ass, and Laevis finally heard the sound of a bottle being uncorked behind him. “Stay still, my sweet,” Zevran said softly as he slicked himself up. “Allow me to give you the pleasure you’ve been so patiently awaiting.”
With that, Zevran pushed in, slow and deliberate, sighing when he bottomed out; the feeling of being full made Laevis moan unabashedly, rocking his hips back into Zevran to force some friction. “My, how needy you are,” Zevran teased. “I was going to take my time, but if you truly want it that badly…”
No time was wasted in picking up the pace, Zevran’s cock buried far enough inside Laevis that he felt like he might be split in two. Zevran held him by his hip, a fist in his hair, the leash tossed to the floor in favor of having Laevis in his hands, tight in his grip, powerless to escape even if he wanted to.
Nails dug into Laevis’s side, as sharp as Zevran’s unforgiving thrusts, and Laevis, though he howled like a hound, could only think of the mouse: quivering in fear as the crow descended upon it and clutched its face in knifelike talons, beak brushing against dirt-matted fur. No retreat, no refuge, only dark eyes stripping him down to meat and bones, taking the heart within his heart and exposing it, bloody and bare, unable to be denied any longer.
His body belonged to Zevran, that much he had already known; the key and the collar, the muzzle and leash, the fingers laced into ginger locks but not pulling—only holding, possessing, claiming for his own.
But his heart, too, Laevis realized—struck with it like an arrow between his ribs as the fire within him mounted, lust and need overtaking them both, Zevran’s hand around his cock and Zevran’s cock deep in his ass—his heart was Zevran’s, too. No matter how hard he fought to avoid ripping it out of his chest and giving it away, the mouse wanted to be prey, to be caressed by daggers. And so Laevis, the hound, let himself be taken; and as Zevran spilled inside him, his mind was emptied of everything but how full he was and how he’d let the world fall to the Blight just to stay at the end of this leash, in these hands that knew better how to hold a blade than hold a heart but cradled it carefully anyway.
“Oh, what a perfect pup you are,” Zevran breathed into his shoulder, and a bite to skin usually shrouded by Laevis’s hair sent him over the edge, making a mess of the blanket and the knife-worn fingers that stroked him until he was shaking and panting, whimpering from the overwhelming pleasure that threatened to rip him to pieces.
He hardly noticed Zevran pulling out and taking a towel to him, muzzled face resting on his hands as he tried to catch his breath. “Let me free you, my sweet,” came Zevran’s voice into his ear, followed by the buckles around his head being unclasped. “I’ve so missed hearing my little wolf. Much as I love your bark, it will never be quite as entertaining as when you speak.”
Laevis lifted his head to let Zevran to slide the muzzle off, and he exhaled as if he’d been gagged. “You want to hear me talk, huh? Funny, that might be a first.”
“Mm, anyone who doesn’t enjoy your voice is missing out on one of life’s greatest gifts.” Zevran stood to fetch his waterskin, taking a sip before passing it to Laevis, who sat up to drink from it properly.
“That’s… sweet,” Laevis said, and he turned his head to hide his blush. “You brought wine?”
Zevran held out a hand to help Laevis to his feet. “I did. You would like some, I suppose? Enjoy it in bed with me. I cannot allow a dog onto the bed, but I can make an exception for a wolf.”
Laevis snorted. “What, I’m scary enough that you won’t enforce it? You think I’ll bite you or something?” He let Zevran pull him up, and then he flopped right onto the bed with a delighted sigh at the softness of the mattress beneath him.
“Will you bite me? I would certainly not complain if you did.” Zevran sat next to him, bottle of wine in hand. “This may come as a surprise, but there is a chance I might even like it.”
Laevis answered by sinking his teeth lightly into the spot beneath Zevran’s ear, and the soft moan it earned encouraged him to suck a mark into the skin, his tongue laving over the purple bruise—because as much as Laevis belonged to Zevran, Zevran was also his. “I think you like it,” he murmured with a nip to an earlobe for emphasis.
“Perhaps I do,” Zevran laughed. He tilted his head down, brushing his lips against the collar around Laevis’s neck. The leash dangled loosely over the side of the bed, still hooked onto a metal ring hammered into the leather, until Zevran took it and pulled Laevis impossibly closer, a surprised yelp slipping past Laevis’s lips. “And I think you like that.”
Laevis grinned and rested his forehead on Zevran’s shoulder, a pale hand finding his waist and stroking the divot of his hipbone beneath his shirt. He belonged to this man, as fully as he could with his life bound to the Blight—it was terrifying, the feeling of talons closing around his heart, knowing he could never undo allowing them to snatch the mouse up and flee with it, but he’d run away for so long that his legs were beginning to ache, and it was a welcome relief to go limp in the crow’s delicate grasp.
He placed a kiss on Zevran’s collarbone, on his throat, his jaw, his cheek—and he hesitated a moment, stomach knotted at the thought of giving himself away, before pressing his lips onto his friend’s with a gentleness that almost frightened him. But he didn’t pull away, nor did he deepen the kiss to hide from the depth of his feelings like he had so many times. He left it as it was, a confession to his not-quite-lover, though in truth it was more of a confession to himself: I am yours, the loyal hound at your heels, for as long as you’ll have me beside you.
“Yes,” he whispered into the corner of Zevran’s mouth, finding himself suddenly breathless. “Yes, I do.”
Hiding on the outskirts of Kirkwall from Nuncio, Zevran had the opportunity to get to know Sabrae clan better and to befriend some of its members. Master Ilen even used to share with him some of the craft works Frey had been working on shortly before he had left the clan.
