peopleofthedas | Fanfic - Pull of the Abyss, Chapter 1

Oh hey! You know how Blood Wound finished? THIS IS THE NEXT BIT! MOAR Alim, this time with Added Zevran. And some Anders Angst, because I know you guys love that. ;)

Title art by Pyromaniac03

Alim supposed he might quite like Antiva, if he ever got to see any of it. Within a week of arriving in Antiva city he had ostensibly been taken on a tour of the city, been to visit no fewer than twenty separate nobles, seen the queen, the princes, the city guard and the mage tower (that had been fun!) but he had not seen a single elf who wasn't a servant, or had the opportunity to hire any assassins at all.

The palace had tried to assign him bodyguards but Alim had sent them back with a diplomatically worded note saying that templars weren't his favourite people to have standing outside his bedroom door at night (in any case, Alistair had assigned him two guards of his own that were perfectly capable of smiting him if he got himself possessed). Since then his relationship with the other nobles had been… less than cordial.

His duties seemed mainly to ask people for money. The Blight had left Ferelden dangerously short on funds, and Alistair's list (or his wife's list, if Alim was going to be more honest) of things he'd like the Antivans to give him was fairly long. The Antivans seemed delighted to find different ways to say no to his requests.

He was very very close to slitting his wrists and calling down a rage demon to destroy them all. Not that he would, of course. He was good these days. Well behaved. Hardly ever tempted. Mostly never.

Today it was a garden party. Naturally. Alim pulled at the high collar on his doublet, sweating in the stifling summer heat, and wondered how the Antivan ladies stood it. Their gowns were less elaborate than some of the things he'd seen Ferelden noblewomen wear, but there were way too many layers.

Vincentio DiCiantis was approaching him and Alim put on his best diplomatic face, smiling as he sipped at the cold white wine they had been decent enough to provide for the occasion. DiCiantis and he had had an unfortunate incident on Alim's first day, when he'd been foolish enough to be talked into using some of his rudimentary Antivan at a trade negotiation.

It turned out that a lot of the phrases Zev had taught him were more colourful than most Antivan nobility used. In public at least.

"DiCiantis," he said, inclining his head. "A pleasure."

"Indeed, I am hoping it will be so Councillor Surana."

Alim's eyes narrowed. DiCiantis was a handsome man, in his way, greying at his temples, with a neatly trimmed beard that hid what Alim suspected was a weak jaw, but he was arrogant and irritating and Alim's misstep had been largely met with amusement from the Prince and his advisors. "Pay no attention to him," Cassimo had said, waved a jeweled hand, "he does it because he is not noble and wishes to be. He pretends offense when there is none."

Alim wasn't too sure this was the case. He privately believed Prince Cassimo was an idiot and DiCiantis controlled far more of the city and its revenues than ten generations of Antivan royalty had done, but the forms had to be obeyed, no matter how he might chafe at them.

DiCiantis had maneuvered them into a corner that was shielded from the rest of the party, large cyprus trees and hedges surrounding sweet smelling honeysuckle bushes — so strong they were almost cloying. Alim's fingers twitched as he suddenly realised his Ferelden bodyguards were nowhere to be seen.

"I was actually hoping to have a word,"Alim said, tentatively touching at the fade with his senses. It had been a few weeks since he'd used his magic. Not since working to heal the wounded at Amaranthine and the Vigil after the darkspawn battle. He pulled a small amount of rejuvenation into himself, letting it tingle through his senses and sharpen his awareness. "To make another apology for…"

DiCiantis waved a hand irritably. "Do not concern yourself with your failure of etiquette," he said, and his words were clipped and harsh. "I know you meant well. It is not your fault you were taught Antivan by a gutter-elf whoreson with no grace."

Alim blinked. "You've met Zevran then?" he said.

"It's hard to imagine any elf able to master the intricacies of court Antivan," DiCiantis went on. Alim straightened and swallowed.

"Oh, now, really I think you're just being rude…."

"Rude is sending a common elf-mage to our proud city and expecting him to have any influence with the Prince or the merchants," DiCiantis stepped closer and Alim resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Rude is a Ferelden bastard pretender thinking he can claim tribute for doing nothing more than waving a sword at an archdemon…"

"Actually I was the one who did that…"

"Rude is…." whatever DiCiantis was about to say next was cut off by a gurgle and a thump from directly behind him. Blinking, Alim stretched up on tiptoe to look over the merchant's shoulder, to see a small elf man crumpled in a heap on the ground, blood pooling from a slashed throat.

"My dear DiCiantis," a sibilant voice came from the hooded figure who had, Alim presumed, been the one to slit the throat of the would-be assassin, "rude is attempting to assassinate a foreign dignity with," the figure nudged the recently-become-corpse with one toe, "unskilled labour."

"Zevran Aranai," Alim said. "About time you bloody showed up."

The figure pushed back his hood to reveal a familiar and beloved face. His cheeks were a little hollower than Alim remembered, and there were circles under his eyes and there even a few silver streaks in the golden hair, but the smile was the same, and Alim was close to icing DiCiantis to the spot so he could properly chastise the man for his long absence.

"My apologies, dear warden. I was… detained."

"Yes, well, we'll talk about that later. In the meantime I think DiCiantis here had something to say about giving funds to Ferelden in order to aid in its reconstruction? We did stop the blight." Alim folded his hands over his chest and tapped one foot.

DiCiantis laughed. "You truly believe I would send only one assassin? Ferelden knife eared pig I am not so stupid."

Zevran was idly cleaning the blood off his blade. "Oh, my dear fellow, how remiss of me. There were two others in your chambers — I trust your maids will be able to deal with the bloodstains on your carpet. And the archer on the roof has met with an unfortunate accident — an over enthusiastic gargoyle. Through the head." DiCiantis' smile froze on his face. "And you'll be happy to hear that the crows have refused this contract twice before now, to have pursued it despite their injunction against harming the warden — the Hero of Ferelden, Arl of Amaranthine and personal friend of the First Warden — well this will not down well with them, I think? Although I have saved them the trouble of dealing with your non-guild hirelings. Unless there were more? Ah, I see from your face there were not. Not to worry. I have informed the Crows of your little operation, anonymously of course, and I suspect a contract on your own life will be rapidly forthcoming."

"They will catch up with you as surely as I, Zevran," DiCiantis said, but he was backing away now.

"Oh believe me, my dear DiCiantis, they already have. A mutually unpleasant experience to be sure, although so far it has resulted in more crow corpses than Zevran shaped ones."

"Go away DiCiantis," Alim said. "And think about writing a letter of credit to Alistair. Perhaps he can offer you a safe haven from the Crows in Denerim. There are a few buildings that aren't piles of rubble there. You might like it."

DiCiantis opened his mouth to reply, but Zevran shoved him back towards the party. DiCiantis looked like he was going to hit the elf for a moment, but Alim chose that moment to let his hands light up with lightning and he wisely changed his mind.

Once the merchant was gone, they were alone. Well, alone apart from rapidly cooling corpse on the ground in front of them.

"Should I burn that?" Alim said.

Zevran tutted. "By no means, dear warden. This is Antiva. Corpses are commonplace."

"You won't…" Alim took a step closer… "get in trouble for it?"

Zevran smiled, but there was a definite edge to it. "I defended you from an assassin, amora, and you quibble about corpses?"

"I just…"

"Come now, I had anticipated a more pleasant reunion."

"You stood me up."

"I was being interrogated by crows at the time. Some rather interesting scars…"

"Ever heard of writing a letter?"

"Any correspondence I sent would surely have given away my location, not to mention putting you in danger…."

"I've been in Antiva for two sodding weeks…"

"I've been attempting to stop you from being assassinated!"

They had been inching closer to each other with every word, and with the last shout Alim reached out a hand (still crackling with lightning) and grabbed Zevran's chin.

"Ouch, amora that…"

Alim kissed him. Very thoroughly, sinking in the feel of familiar lips, hands on his back, a familiar body that was nonetheless a little leaner than he recalled and it felt so, so good that he almost forgot that he was extremely cross with the elf he was currently snogging and bit him.

"Alim you are vexed with me," Zevran said, touching the spot of blood that bloomed although his voice was breathless and his eyes were shining.

"You think?" Alim said, then shot his erstwhile lover with a sleep spell and enhanced his strength to catch the elf when he fell.

"Councillor!" one of the Prince's lackey's approached him as he walked through the garden back towards his carriage with an unconscious Zevran slung over his shoulder.

"Busy, sorry mate," Alim said. "Tell your King I quit, will you?"