TanithAeyrs wrote...
Here's the new prompt:
***Banner by Minaleth***

Prompt: Even as a friend Zevran says he will go to the gates of the Black City with you. But Zevran has his limits; what would Zevran be reluctant to do, or even flat out refuse to do for the Warden? Can be serious, funny, or whatever you want.
Time: 1 hour
Formats: All formats of response are encouraged -- drawing, story, image manip, poem, comic, etc.
Deadline: Sunday September 26, 11:00 PM GMT (4:00 PM MST U.S.). Winner announced Monday September 27th.
Prize: Zevran story of your choice. Give me a prompt and/or a character and I'll go with it. Haven't had much practice at kmeme stuff, but would be willing to give it a go, characters of any orientation okay.
This is an AU to
The Rescue. I promise this scene occurred QUITE differently in my fic.
Sitting in a well-stuffed, high-backed chair, Moira staredbemusedly into the fire in the room the wardens at Weisshaupt lent her. She sighed in tired contentment. Her friends were safe, the man she loved was safe, both of them, and her stomach was comfortably full from the first decent dinner she’d had in a while and she was cosily warm in the heavy white woolen dressing gown Fiona had loaned her. But despite her physical discomfort, her emotional turmoil continued.
Both of her men might be safe, but she wasn’t safe from them. While trapped in the false Fade, she and Alistair had discussed their future. He had no intention of letting her step aside in favor of whatever queen he was forced to marry to procure an heir. He had never said a word regarding Zevran, but she knew the elf’s feelings for her and knew that her heart was torn between them both. Could she let the assassin leave, as he told her would? Alistair would never share her, and she feared forcing the issue would cost her both of them.
The elf in question interrupted her thoughts by slipping in around the heavy door and closing it softly behind him. He probably could not tell she was in the room at all given that the chair was so large and she had drawn her bare feet up under her. She knew it was him and not Alistair due to the lack of taint she sensed, that and the fact that
Alistair was never that quiet. She heard him come to a stop in front of the fire. “I hear you have two new recruits for your Wardens?” Of course, just because he couldn’t see her, didn’t mean he wouldn’t know she was there.
Moira stood and crossed to stand behind the taller elf, “Aye, they both live.”
“And now what will you do?” He held out his hands to the fire as if to warm them, his posture indicating absolutely no tension whatsoever. The corded muscles in his forearms and biceps, however, belied his seeming relaxation.
“I will return to Denerim with Alistair,” Moira told him. “And you, I hope.”
He finally turned to look at her, his fine-featured face shadowed by the flickering firelight. “And why would you want me? Does someone need killing in Denerim?”
“You are my friend! Why wouldn’t I want you to come with me?” Moira cursed the shadows that made him unreadable.
His full lips tightened into a line, “Just a friend, am I? I told you once,
mi amora, I could not watch you with him any longer.”
Moira felt her stomach turn over and her throat suddenly swell up, “I know. I’d just hoped . . . after everything we’d been through together, that you would change your mind.”
He stepped closer to her, the sweat and leather and oil and steel he wore like a fine cologne filled her senses and made her briefly light headed with need of him. His voice dropped into the lower registers that always promised things he was happy to fulfill, “Do you really think I could be near you now and never touch you again?”
“But –“
He shook his head, once, “No,
mi amora. I will travel back with you as far as Antiva. After that I take my leave of you. I cannot stay and watch him kiss those satin lips of yours and know I cannot do the same.”
“Zev, please! Let me –“
Again, he shook his head, “No. I find myself wanting to do anything I can for you in the hopes that I would earn your love away from
him. But that would lead me away from what you have encouraged me to become when I was free of the Crows. I would even kill for you again.”
She remembered the few assignments she’d asked him to undertake shortly after Alistair had taken the throne. It had all been in the name of procuring their safety, but for the first time, it occurred to her he’d not taken them
for the gold, but only because she’d asked. “I won’t ask that of you, Zev.”
A gentle brush of his fingers along her jaw, “If it were a question of keeping him safe, you would.” Without warning, he crushed her against him, his lips finding hers with bruising force. He pushed his way in past her teeth and she clung to him, her arms snaking around his shoulders to entwine in his hair. She belatedly realized his braids were gone as she knotted her fingers at the nape of his neck, trying to stay upright as he eroded the strength in her knees with his tongue on hers. One of his hands cupped the back of her head, while the other held her tightly against him. He broke the kiss first.
Wordlessly, he stepped back and looked at her as if memorizing her. She tried to close the distance between them again, but he spun on his heel and left, the door shutting quietly behind him.
Moira spent the night curled up in the chair, her heart in pieces at her feet. Zevran never returned and Alistair spent the night talking to the woman who claimed to be his mother instead of spending his first night of freedom with Moira. When Shale came to find her in the morning, the former golem reported that the elf was nowhere to be found.
~*~
The leather-clad elf stood framed in the doorway of the sally port watching rain pelt the forest just outside the keep. His unbraided hair hung damply in his face. She used to braid it for him. He heard a light step behind him and without turning asked, “They’ve gone?”
A woman’s voice answered, “Of course. Are you sure this is what you want? She was broken hearted.” Ah, Fiona, the woman who claimed to be the lout’s mother. He ignore the wrench his own heart gave to hear about Moira's pain. It was better this way. One clean rip. Why didn't it hurt less?
“If
he felt differently about me, then it might have ended another way.”
“Where will you go?” the woman asked.
“The Crows still have a contract out for them. That is the last thing I can do for her.”
~*~*~*~
That hurt to write. I'm glad I didn't go that route.
Modifié par Sialater, 21 septembre 2010 - 08:01 .