mousestalker wrote...
Prompt: Loyalty . Go wild! 
Time Limit: 3 hours
Deadline: Tuesday, February 8th, 4:00pm Eastern.
Prize: Story on whatever theme the winner wishes. Or an epic poem. Your choice.
We had four entries:
A lovely drawing by Minaleth:
and stories by
Hilde:
Doubt
Time: 2 hours
Prompts: 1
I am not sure how I have turned what was to be a serious idea and story about doubt for Ewan into a public make-out scene. But, there you go.
**x**
Ewan stared at the empty tankards littering his table as he felt warm familiar hands weave themselves into his hair and down his neck. The dim, smoke filled lighting of the Tavern coupled with the noise of nervous celebration had covered any noise of his assassins approach.
Ewan smirked as he realized that the amount of ale he had gone through certainly did not help; he was certain that Zevran would chide him for his lack of guard later. For now, he was just happy to have him nearby.
He had stormed out of the estate halls shortly after Alistair had left. The lands-meet had not gone as planned and there was a price paid that he had not foreseen.
Leaning his head back as well trained hands rubbed small circles behind his ears, he replayed the scene and wondered how all of his careful planning had missed this possibility. Wynne had been certain to voice her disdain at Ewan’s actions, the last words from her as the oak doors shut behind him had been a threat that the rest of the camp would soon follow Alistair's lead.
“You are enjoying yourself I see.” laughed Zevran as he moved around the bench to join Ewan.
Ewan looked up as a giggle escaped his lips. Moving his hand to cover his mouth he realized the ale he had used to nurse his anger had indeed worked. Leaning forward he placed a small kiss on Zevran’s cheek before leaning back.
“I am glad to see you...I know I...I am sorry.” whispered Ewan.
His blind anger had driven him from the estate and he had realized too late that he had left Zevran standing in the entryway. He had regretted it the moment he felt the cool breeze against his face but could not stomach returning inside.
“Do not be sorry, my warden. Had that woman been chasing after me I would have done the same, yes?” laughed Zevran, his hand covering Ewan's as his eyes took into account the now empty tankards. “Would you like to discuss what happened?”
Ewan stared into Zevran’s amber gaze for a moment before answering. “You were there. I...did you ever imagine this would be the outcome of all we have done?”
“You mean, did I think Alistair would leave? No. Truly, I did not.” Zevran looked thoughtfully at Ewan before speaking again. “Do I think that the others will follow him? No. They will not. They are concerned for you... but are willing to follow you to the end.”
Ewan laughed uneasily as he stared at his hand held firmly in Zevran’s. “What about you? What if I lead us into nothing but another...” Ewan blurted out.
Perhaps it was just the ale, but he could not stomach the last thought that played itself through his mind. His retreat to the Tavern had been in fear if he were honest with himself. Fear that he had made a mess of far too many things; fear that he would only lead them all to death.
At this Zevran laughed and moved closer taking Ewan’s face firmly in both hands.
“Lead us into another disaster perhaps?” Zevran chuckled as he laid a light kiss against Ewan’s lips. “Wherever you lead...disaster or no, I will gladly follow.”
Relief washed over Ewan. Wrapping his arms around Zevran’s waist he pulled him in firmly as lips crushed against Zevran’s. Easing him slowly back onto the flat of the bench, Ewan moved to deepen the kiss. His tongue desperately searching out contact as his hands roamed up Zevran’s chest.
Ewan opened his eyes slowly as the noises of surprise that surrounded him became clear. Slowly breaking the kiss, Ewan brought his hand up to caress Zevran’s jaw.
“Zevran?”
Smiling wickedly, Zevran replied. “I am yours.”
Moaning, Ewan pulled Zevran into another kiss as he pushed his hips against Zevran’s. He had foolishly told Zevran only a few nights back what that particular phrase did to him. Breaking away, breathless, he moved to get up but Zevran’s grip on his hips kept him firmly in place.
“We have an audience...” Ewan whispered as his lips grazed Zevran’s perfect ear. “Perhaps we should make our way back to the estate?”
Laughing, Zevran pulled a bronze key from the buckle of his baldric. “Hmm. Perhaps we should make use of the room I have purchased instead, no?”
Ewan’s eyes widened momentarily at the gesture.
“You always know exactly what I need, don’t you?” replied Ewan as he stood.
Zevran did not reply until they came to the door of their rented room. A room they knew all too well from their last visit to Denerim. Pushing Ewan flush against the wall Zevran ran his tongue lightly up Ewan’s ear.
Linking their hands together, Zevran rubbed the ring adorning Ewan’s finger as he whispered lightly. “Si, amore. I am yours.”
Corker:
Not all loyalty is deserved...
Cruel to the End
40 min
Prompts: 2
"I'm hungry," Oghren announced, halting before the door of the Gnawed Noble Tavern.
"Thirsty, more like," Zevran observed dryly.
"Heh, that too," Oghren readily admitted. "But I could go for a bowl of something hot. Think Her Nibs can spare you long enough to eat?"
"Of course," Zevran replied, carefully light with his tone.
Oghren rolled forward through the door. "Ain't no 'of course' about it," he muttered as they seated themselves at a table. He kept shooting furtive glances at Zevran from under his bushy red eyebrows until the assassin sighed. "Do I have something in my teeth? A burr in my hair? What, Oghren?"
"Nothin'," the dwarf grunted, signalling one of the staff for two meals. Then he sighed and pursed his lips. "Probably ain't my place to say. But you're all right. Down in the Deep Roads, you look out for those you fight with, you know? Yeah." He leaned forward suddenly, head tilted up to look Zevran in the eye. "Go. Get gone. Your Crow friends are dead and there's lots of ships in the harbor. Just go and I'll handle Her Nibs."
"Because we fight together, you counsel me to cowardice? I believe I should be insulted, Oghren." Zevran smiled, but there was no warmth in it.
"That ain't it," the dwarf growled, "and you know it. She don't treat you right."
"Your concern is touching," Zevran said flatly. "But misplaced." He summoned up a smile and a leer. "Perhaps I prefer such treatment, no?"
The dwarf sat back abruptly, eyes uncertain. "Then... I lost my appetite," he said, shaking his head. He slid out of the booth and turned to the door, then stopped, his back to the elf. "You're a demon in a fight, good scout, fast with a dirty joke," Oghren said quietly. "Any unit above or below the Stone that didn't have rocks for brains would be happy to have you. You got options. Just sayin'."
"You are right," Zevran said coolly, and Oghren half-turned back to the table. "It is not your place to say."
The dwarf's shoulders slumped. Shaking his shaggy head, he stumped back out the door, into the marketplace.
-------------------------
A/N: "Her Nibs" could be any Warden who abuses the romance/gift system to inspire undeserved loyalty from her followers, but I'll admit I had my Odessa Amell in mind for the role. Which is why it's Oghren here, instead of Leliana (who would have handled the conversation much better), but who wasn't recruited.
Corker: Zevran! Oghren! Discuss feelings and emotional pain and stuff!
Zevran: ...
Oghren: ...
Corker: ...Right, then. >.<
and
Tigress M:
A Promise Kept
Time: 90 mins
Prompts: 0
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He knew it was a death sentence. He’d known it would be from the moment the words fell from her lips. No, that wasn’t true. He’d known for far longer than that… almost from the beginning.
“I go where you go.”
He’d known then where this road would lead. And he wouldn’t be anywhere else.
“I am yours.”
He was. He often wondered who had figured out the depth of his commitment first, her or him. They’d talked about it over the years, neither one remembering exactly when the reality of their relationship reached their consciousness, but never doubting it was real. All they knew was that under impossible circumstances they had met, and grown to… care for each other… love each other.
There was that word. The center of it all. It had taken him years to say it. She’d never pushed. Never asked. Never let on how much she’d longed to hear him say that one simple word. But he’d never forgotten the look in her eyes the night he had finally told her he loved her.
Hearing the horrible news, he’d torn into the birthing room, mindless of anyone and anything in his way as he raced towards her side. She’d been holding a bundle close to her breast, the tears flowing silently down her cheeks as she rocked the too still form in her arms. The look of despair on her face tore his heart and her words chilled his soul.
“I’ve failed. Her. You.”
“Shhhh,” he’d said, stroking her hair, matted with sweat from the ordeal. “You have not failed. It was simply not meant to be.”
Her body shook as her cries found a voice, great sobs escaping from her heaving shoulders. “You must hate me now!”
“No, my amora,” he’d replied, laying a tender kiss on her forehead. “I do not hate you, my dear Warden. My… my love for you has never been greater.”
He’d seen her eyes lock on his, disbelief mingled with pain. “L-love?”
He returned her stare, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Did you ever doubt the depth of my feelings for you? They are no less simply because the Maker has chosen to take our daughter directly from your womb into his domain. I am a stubborn fool, this is true. But, surely you must know that I have loved you for years.”
He shook his head, brushing the memories away as he focused on the scene before him. He watched as the monsters laid their burden aside before kneeling down to drink from the grimy underground pool of stagnant water at their feet. She was still unconscious, thank the Maker. He was not sure he could follow through with this had she been awake – had he been forced to stare into her eyes.
He silently slipped his dagger out of its sheath as he made his way from behind the rock and into the shadows along the wall of the cave. His mind focused on one thing. The last promise he had made to this woman who had held his heart in her hands for so many years.
“I’m coming with you,” he’d said when he’d realized what was happening.
“No!” she’d replied, her eyes fierce with determination. “You have no need to sacrifice yourself in this manner! This is my burden. Mine alone.”
“I go where you go,” he’d replied, staring her down. “This has always been the way of us. It will not be any different now.”
And so, he’d followed her into the Deep Roads. They’d met much stronger resistance than the last time they had ventured down these dark, oppressive tunnels, proving the stories true about the Deep Roads being safer during a Blight. But, they’d fought fiercely, bravely, carving their way deeper and deeper into the filth the Darkspawn called home.
“Promise me one thing,” she’d said after their first night underground.
“Anything, my amora,” he’d replied, rubbing a salve into a wound she’d taken during the day’s fighting.
“Don’t,” she’d begun, her voice catching. She cleared her throat and turned towards him, grabbing his hand as her eyes pierced his soul. “Don’t let them take me. I… I don’t want to end up like –“
“I won’t,” he’d said, interrupting her. And taking her face in his hands he kissed her tenderly. “I promise.”
The Darkspawn were still inattentive, vying for a place at the pool, heedless of the shadow moving ever closer to their prize. That would change as soon as his deed was done. He had no illusions about what his future held. He did not care. By the Maker, just let him complete this final task.
A Hurlock on the edge of the group paused, sniffing the air. Zevran froze, less than an arm’s length from his target. But a Genlock, seeing his rival’s inattention, jostled the Hurlock even further away from the pool, instigating a fight between the two as the Hurlock took offense. Now was his chance. Perhaps the only one he’d have.
He raised his dagger high, tears streaming down his face as he plunged the knife deep into her breast. She gasped once, her eyes opening briefly, and he swore he saw a smile cross her lips before he felt claws grabbing him from behind.
He spun around, pulling his other dagger from its sheath, beginning his final dance.
“I am yours,” he whispered as he felt a maul slam into his chest, breaking his ribs. “I am yours.”
And the winner is....Hilde! Congratulations!
Let me know what story you would like for your prize.
The prompt selection torch gets passed to Tigress M, as she has not had that heavy burden yet! :happy:
<3:wub:
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