sanguinifex

Originally posted to AO3 on 8/1/2017

“Hey Zev?” asked Alim. “Can I convince you to work your awesome massage magic once we set up camp? Sleeping on rock is fucking up my neck, and just throwing healing at it doesn’t work.”

“Of course. After all, my skills are ridiculously awesome.”

“Zevran, that line got old the second time you used it after stabbing an ogre,” said Alistair.

“But stabbing ogres is ridiculously awesome!”

“You have to admit, it is,” agreed Alim.

“Yes, you’re definitely thinking about some kind of stabbing,” said Morrigan darkly.

“I promise never to make that much noise again, okay?” Who would have thought that echoing was actually a property of stone, not just weird Circle surveillance architecture? And it had been just once!

There was no way to tell day from night in the Deep Roads, but eventually everyone agreed that it was time for “dinner”—the second meal since “breakfast”—so they made camp; building a fire, unrolling bedrolls, and painting spider repellant on everything around them. As soon as everything was mostly set up, Alim flopped onto his bedroll, facedown. “Ow,” he said, as he realized an instant too late that the bedroll was not padded sufficiently for flopping.

“Are you still in need of my awesome massage magic, my Warden?”

“Yes,” said Alim, into the thin pillow. “That would be double-awesome.”

“You should have your robe and shirt off, to do this properly.”

“Ugh. Sitting up. All right.” Alim sat up and unhooked and set aside his robes, then took off his (rather sweaty) linen shirt.

“Please don’t get naked,” remarked Morrigan, from the fire, as she stirred the stewpot.

“I’m keeping my pants on,” he shot back.

For some reason, a lot of people thought that mages wore their distinctive robes and nothing else. Even in the middle of summer, this was largely untrue; most people wore at least a linen shirt to protect the fabric. When it was not summer-temperature, one actually followed the official dress code, which dictated having under one’s robes not just that shirt but also leggings and smallclothes. Alim had left the Circle, but saw no reason to change his style of underwear, merely changing the externals to be more sensible for fighting. (Circle robes were nigh-impossible to run in. Circle shoes were little more than socks made to be noisy.)

Now wearing only his pants (and the smallclothes underneath), Alim lay facedown on the bedroll again, more carefully this time. Zevran had also partially disrobed, taking off his own armor and shirt. He dug around in his pack and produced a vial of scented oil.

“So, where does it hurt?” he asked.

“Left shoulder. No, higher up. Ow! There.”

“That looks like some adventurous sleeping, no? We’ll have to do something about that knot.”

“Any sleeping I do is adventurous. I’m pretty sure this counts as an adventure. Fighting darkspawn, stopping the Blight, the Warden business. It includes sleeping rough.”

“Well, yes, I suppose. Are you having difficulty sleeping, though?”

“I’m a Warden. I’m also a mage, and the Veil is weird here and there’s traces of lyrium in everything. So, yes. I’ll live.”

“There are herbs that can help with that.”

“I’m aware of that. I also don’t wish to be eaten by deepstalkers or darkspawn in my sleep. I’ll save the valerian for if someone actually needs it.”

A few minutes went by in silence, save for the crackle of the fire and occasional muffled curses and sharp intakes of breath from Alim, as Zevran’s fingers found painful knots. Zevran was putting most of his weight into the massage, working Alim’s back properly now that the worst of the shoulder was done, and his muscles flexed as he worked. (Leliana was looking on appreciatively while pretending to mend clothing. Zevran pretended not to notice, and secretly reveled in the attention.)

“Stew’s ready,” called Morrigan.

“Okay, that’s probably enough for your back,” said Zevran to Alim. “You should eat.”

“I’m not tired enough to skip food,” said Alim.

The stew was deepstalker, deep mushroom, and dried fruit—heavy on the deepstalker. The flavor combination was a bit odd, and a bit bland, but salted well enough. Zevran was strongly considering unpacking his entire mortar and pestle set and grinding part of a dried pepper, from his sadly dwindling supply, but Alim just shoveled the mess into his mouth.

“You actually like this stuff?” Zevran asked.

“It’s not oat porridge or lentils. It has a lot of meat in it. Therefore, I like it. Would be better with boiled walnuts, though. And milk.”

Zevran suspected that Alim would eat nothing but meat, nuts, and dairy, plus the occasional spring salad and seasonal fruit, if he could. The Dalish in the Brecilian Forest had certainly seemed to. Though, the ones who were not Wardens (or running around fighting) seemed to eat fairly small portions, which balanced out the nutritional intensity, he supposed.

Alim had finished eating, and was now leaning on Zevran. “Hey. If you are going to fall asleep, maybe you should be lying down.”

“Can you stay by me?”

Zevran had wanted to sharpen his daggers, but he could do that at breakfast, he supposed. He had cleaned them well enough after the last fight that they would be fine.

“Of course,” he said, curling up around the sleepy mage. They would probably regret not having their shirts on, later, but for now the skin-to-skin contact was nice. Especially for Zevran; despite the chill of the Deep Roads, Alim always ran hot. He said it was a Warden thing.

Alim was asleep in a few minutes, still except for the flickering of his eyelids as he dreamed. Zevran hoped it was not the “darkspawn Templar” nightmare again. He pressed a reassuring kiss to the tip of Alim’s ear, and then simply held him as he fell into sleep himself.

The next morning, the first one up was an unusually chipper Alim.

“So, I take it the massage helped?” Zevran asked, as he tried to choke down the absolutely dreadful Dwarven coffee.

“Wonderfully. I haven’t slept that well since we went into the Deep Roads. You are indeed incredibly awesome.”

“Maker’s sake, please find another word!” grumbled Alistair into his own mug.