The camp had quieted by the time Zevran approached. A hush settled over the clearing, broken only by the occasional crack of dying embers and the distant howl of a wolf beyond the trees. Most of the others had already drifted to sleep or at least pretended to, their silhouettes barely visible near the tents. Your fire still burned low, a flicker of light painting warm gold across his cheekbones as he stepped into view.

He didn’t sit right away, just lingered a moment, watching you. Something unreadable passed through his eyes before it was gone, replaced by his usual easy smile.

“Here,” he said, slipping a small object into your palm with deliberate gentleness. “It seems an appropriate moment to give you this.”

You looked down. The earring glittered in the firelight — gold, intricate, clearly expensive. But there was something else in the gesture, something unspoken. Your brow raised slightly. “Oh? Will that mean we're married in Antiva?”

Zevran gave a short laugh. “Let’s hope not.”

He sat beside you now, legs folded easily, posture relaxed — but there was a tension under the surface that hadn’t been there earlier. Not during the fight, not even after Taliesen’s death. Now, alone with you, it settled in the curve of his spine and the way his fingers toyed with a blade at his side without truly needing to.

“I acquired it on my first job for the Crows,” he said, voice quieter now. “A Rivaini merchant prince. He was wearing it when I killed him. In fact, that’s about all he was wearing.” A slight smirk followed, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I thought it was beautiful. Kept it, for some reason. And now… I’d like you to have it.”

You turned the earring over between your fingers, feeling its weight. “This is a bit out of the blue, isn’t it?”

Zevran leaned back on his hands, gaze shifting to the flames. “Don’t get the wrong idea. You killed Taliesen. As far as the Crows will care, I died with him. That makes me free. For now.”

He hesitated. Not long, but long enough for the silence to settle between you again.

“Feel free to sell it, or wear it, or… whatever you like. It’s the least I could give you, really.”

You looked at him, quiet for a moment, then said with a small smile, “So… not a token of affection, then?”

There was a pause. His mouth opened slightly, as if to deflect with a joke — but it didn’t come.

“I…” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, just—just take it. It’s meant a lot to me. But so have…” his voice dropped for the briefest beat, “so has what you’ve done.”

You nodded, the firelight catching in your eyes. “I’m glad to, then.”

Zevran’s expression softened. A flicker of relief passed over his features, followed by the ghost of a smile—not his usual grin, but something more sincere. “I have no better way to say it. Thank you.”

And for once, he didn’t fill the silence after with a quip or a laugh. He just sat there beside you, shoulder brushing yours, gaze fixed on the dying fire like it held something he hadn’t figured out how to say yet.