At once, I knew I was not magnificent

by yoursuga

Summary:

Self indulgent drabbles of my Mahariel and Zev, nothing more to see here.

title from Holocene by Bon Iver

Chapter 1: Crows

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: Graphic Violence

When Zevran felt the younger human assassin's hands scrabble over his as he crushed her air pipe, he knew the Crows were getting desperate. She was barely out of training and nowhere near ready to take him on directly.

His work of dismantling the Crows was working better than expected, but that didn't mean he couldn't recognize a distraction when he saw one.

Too late, he realized when the air shifted behind him.

"No sudden moves, Arainai."

He smiled when he turned his head with bloodied hands raised to see one of the lesser Crow masters flanked by two other assassins. Sword and dagger in each hand while the guards trained their poisoned arrows at his neck.

"Master Ingrosso. What a pleasant surprise. How is your sister?" Zevran had left her on the bottom of the river running through an Antivan village a fortnight ago. Ingrosso's face twisted into a snarl.

"Shut your filthy mouth before I cut your tongue. You finally die here like the dog you are."

The air was musty in the warehouse, and the pebbled ground dug into his clothed knees where he knelt over the still body. It would be a bad place to meet his end.

The shadows shifted near the far wall, and Zevran grinned warmly.

"I shouldn't be so concerned with little old me, as much as the man with his weapon aimed at you over there." The blond elf nodded behind his company.

"Pathetic." Ingrosso scoffed. One of his guards glanced behind them nervously.

They didn't have time to call out before their throat was pierced by a barbed arrow.

Ingrosso called out in alarm, whipping around as the second guard fell with an identical arrow between the eyes.

Zevran seized the distracted Crow leader by his oily dark locks, dagger poised at his throat as his weapons clattered to the ground.

"Send Aquila my regards." Zevran purred, feeling the man quiver before blood arced from his opened throat.

He wiped his blade on the cooling body's clothes as footsteps crunched over the floor and stopped next to him.

When he stood up to meet his lover's eyes, Galion crossed his arms and glared at him.

"They were smarter than I expected to not take the bait of your bluff, but I'm very upset at you for the risk of exposing me just then." The dalish archer scolded, hazel eyes hard.

Zevran entered the older elf's space, blinking his big brown eyes doe like with a wicked grin.

"Come now, amore. I wouldn't have pulled such a stunt if I did not believe they would fall for it. Te quiero." He kisses the taller elf softly, Galion's expression softening into a warm, sleepy thing as they part.

Zevran smiled as a tanned hand cupped his jaw. Galion leaned in once again, lips ghosting Zevran's when he stopped.

"You're still sleeping outside the tent tonight."

"Brasca."

Notes:

Might be more, might not. I surprise myself. I love my Mahariel so much but I write p much only for myself so?? Indulge me?

Chapter 2: Lessons

An assassin learns many things. A crow learns thrice more over.

Zevran learned early on what unconditional love felt like. His mother feeding, cleaning and holding him tenderly. Her tears warm on his scalp when she remembered his father while she thought he was asleep late in the night. Her harsh tone when she ordered him to hide whenever someone she didn’t trust approached.

The pain when she was too late one time, and strangers dragged him away to the sound of her screaming his name.

Zevran learned to watch children his own age and younger waste away in warehouses, fight for scraps and kill for less. He learned not to care, because all that mattered was survival.

Later he learned to charm and seduce. Which of the trainers could be persuaded to clean his wound after striking him if he went lax and softened his gaze enough.

Somewhere along the way he learned his body and mind were more valuable to trade than gold, though when exactly was harder to pinpoint. Pride however, was a luxury he’d always known was far out of his reach.

Rinna and Taliesin taught him there were still some good things, that he could still have something like camaraderie, trust, maybe even love. Then the masters corrected that notion, and Zevran learned his heart was only safe where it was closed and locked away where no one could touch it.

He came to Ferelden a caricature of himself, watching from far away as he went through the motions of accepting the Grey Warden contract. Flirting and paying his way into hiring a small entourage that was stupid enough to set up the ridiculously executed trap and fall at the wardens’ feet.

Instead of being executed as he expected after he fell, he woke up aching with an angry dalish man all but hissing in his face. Not in a fun way, either.

Galion ruined Zevran’s plan for his own demise, and sneered the whole time as he dragged the assassin around muddy, cold Ferelden. And somehow, gradually, pried him open enough to reach his sleeping heart and awaken the part of Zevran who’d only ever hurt himself by caring.

That Zevran refused to go back to sleep, and held tight onto Galion’s hand all the way to the top of Fort Drakon. And even faced with a corrupted God’s gaping maw, no part of Zevran learned to let go of his lover’s hand.

Notes:

It's kinda-sorta implied that Gali didn't survive the final battle, but if you'd prefer to think he did I won't stop you

Completely unrelated but the first time I played dao I agonized so hard over whether to do the ritual or not, then finally decided to go through with it. Only to missclick and choose not to do it so I went with it and watched my baby die while ugly crying lul. So I have 300 headcanons where he's alive but the official game-ending is he ded :( all because I never learned PS controls

Chapter 3: Duty

Summary:

Redcliffe. Galion doesn't get paid enough to put up with just about anything

Notes:

this one doesn't have Zev oops. A scene I wanted to write out for a long time, as it is a pretty pivotal moment for Galion's character.

Galion glared at the nobleman in front of him. People around him had always said he had a rather intimidating expression by default, but since leaving his clan it was like a stormcloud was constantly roaring over his head.

Bann Teagan didn’t seem to catch on, focused on Alistair as he was. Well, Alistair had made it clear he didn’t want to lead even before Lothering, and so Galion would make the decisions when they needed to be made.

“No.” He said, flat with finality.

Teagan sputtered uselessly.

“No? What do you mean, no.” Alistair demanded.

“I don’t see how it’s our business to risk our lives fighting a curse the shems clearly brought on themselves. We wait until morning and go directly to the castle.”

“All these people will die! Surely you can’t be serious?” Leliana raised her voice, blue eyes wide with disbelief. A brief glance at Sten and Morrigan showed they weren’t particularly bothered with the subject, the qunari stoic and the witch merely meeting Galion’s eyes with too much intensity.

“We are only here for the treaties.” He stated simply, feeling a spark of annoyance twitch in his temple.

“And it’s fair to demand soldiers after willingly letting the village people die?”

“If we die here tonight nothing matters! Fairness isn’t a factor when the Blight comes!”

Silence. The Chantry was dead silent as muttering from the refugees ceased at Galion’s outburst. He whipped his head around and the refugees either looked away from the elf, or continued staring at him with varying degrees of despair.

Alistair scoffed “I didn’t realize you’d taken a crash course in grey warden indifference.”

Galion took a deep, grounding breath.

“You have my answer.” He dug the treaties out of his pack and shoved them at Alistair’s chest. “Accept it or grow a spine and tell me otherwise.” He turned on his heel and narrowly avoided shouldering Leliana on his way towards the exit.

 

“I think you made perfect sense, if my opinion has any value on the matter.” Morrigan’s voice came from behind him. Galion dropped heavily onto the dock at the edge of the village where the water lay almost deadly still with not a wave to mar the mirror-like surface.

“I’d like a moment alone.” The grunted reply was as generous as he felt like being. No sound behind him, then the hiss of magic and beating of wings that retreated fastly.

It made the silence of the area all the more prominent. No natural birds made themselves seen or heard in the sky, the breeze was as dead as the water, and the stench of decay made itself known in his sensitive nose ,coming from the direction of the castle on top of the hill. He heard the sound of voices from the Chantry, low and flat or sharp with crying.

The headache he’d felt coming on in his temples from earlier relieved and made space for a flurry of thoughts. There was no joy he took from what he’d said to his companions and Teagan. Alistair infuriated him for all that he thought he was a good person. Dropping the news that he was a prince of these damned shem lands, technically in line to be king and asking Galion to keep his secret. He was naive, young and selfless to a fault. What good was it to be good and want to act on it, only to cave to someone else simply because he didn’t want to be in charge?

The warrior had talked back at Galion in disagreement, sure. But he could tell that he wanted Galion to be the one to say what he wanted to hear, to take responsibility in case it turned out to be the wrong decision. No part of Galion believed wholeheartedly that if he were to go back in there now, the human would stand his ground and order Galion to take the foolhardy gamble to beat back an army of undead for a shem village he hadn’t known before a matter of days ago.

He had distrust for humans, but he’d never wish on them the suffering and destruction that he’d seen his clan suffer at the hands of humans with titles and superstitions.

Did he care about being a Grey Warden and all that entailed? Not as much as he probably should considering the burden on his shoulders. Surely not enough that if he reasonably thought he could save Redcliffe’s people he’d still decline on principle of being neutral.

He knew damn well if it were his own people, no army of undead, demons, and darkspawn would hold him back even if failure was guaranteed.

 

“E-Excuse me?”

He jumped at the unexpected voice. In his reflection he hadn’t heard the approach of the girl. She flinched too when he whipped around and was on his feet in the time it took her to finish her words.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you, I swear.” She cowered back some, shoulders hunched and hands hovering protectively over her torso. The girl, hardly even a young woman, had shaggy dark blonde hair and the same wide eyes filled with desperate gloom the same as the villagers huddled in the chantry.

“What do you want?” Galion asked, wondering passively if she’d flee now that he’d turned and showed his blood writing marked face. She looked scared enough to bolt off.

“It’s my brother.” She stuttered terribly, but didn’t make any more space between them. “He said he’d go look for our mother, I tried to tell him she won’t return but I couldn’t just say she died. He thinks he can fight off the monsters to find her, and now I can’t find him. His name is Bevin. He’s only ten years. I’m sorry, I’ve rambled but I’ve got to find him before tonight or-” She stopped as her voice gave out to wet sniffling, wiping at her red nose and eyes.

Galion shifted awkwardly, pushing away the urge to pat her shoulder in case it would make her break completely.

“I’ve not seen any children outside of the Chantry.” He said finally when it had been too long to make an attempt at consoling the girl.

“Neither have I.” She sighed defeated, followed by a shaky, wet breath back in. “If you do see him, please tell him to go back to the Chantry. I’m sorry to have bothered you, Ser. ” She quickly bowed her head at him and fled back towards the village centre.

Galion took one last look over the still Calenhad, then started an aimless wander along the dock. A cat hissed at him and retreated through a hole created by a broken plank into one of the dock houses.

As he passed the front door of the abandoned looking home, he heard the sound of footsteps. Small feet with soft soled shoes on wood.

 

 

 

Kaitlyn, the girl’s name was. The forlorn look in her eyes cleared as soon as they laid on the young boy who ran from Galion’s side to hide in his sister’s arms. He accepted her thanks quietly with a nod and raised hand.

His companions had sat themselves along the far side of the Chantry. Varying degrees of interest greeted him at his return. Alistair sullenly looked up at him from where he fidgeted with the coin he carried on his belt.

Galion crossed his arms.

“Get up and help me find Ser Perth.”

Alistair raised one eyebrow “Do we need an official escort out?”

“We’re helping.” Galion sighed, feeling the headache threaten to return.

Notes:

my boi is a GRUMP but he is also a SOFTIE beneath all the frosty exterior.

One playthrough (I won't specify how many I have of only Gali, it's embarrassing) I straight up let Redcliffe die and felt like badass and at the same time just an ass. I realized after reflecting on it that even though Galion /could/ totally make that decision and stick to it because he's not necessarily a good person, it's not in his character to see all the children and innocent people who would die and not reconsider. If I can summarize him in one sentence, Self serving up until the point where the things that are relevant to him (children, the dalish, zevran etc.) are challenged. Then he will throw hands or die trying.
Fun times!