351 réponses à ce sujet

[bloodtallow]

I _love_ how you've developed Galahan & Sindel. They are very fun characters.



You write the tension of a Zev-Alistair-Warden love triangle very well, in all of its awkwardness and its happiness.



*More!*

[Hecthorn]

Wow, I've been away for quite a while now and it is good to see you could continue your story during the time I couldn't. ;-)



Great writing!

[Shadow of Light Dragon]

This chapter involves some mild(?) smut and dark themes. I apologise for the lateness, as it proved...a bit difficult for me to write and there were several false starts and re-attempts. Even now it doesn't completely satisfy me, but I hope it is well-received regardless and I didn't want to keep people waiting any longer.

Thanks for reading, peeps.

And hey, Hecthorn! Welcome back

*hopes the formatting doesn't screw up...*

Part 31 - What You Are

Trees whipped past. Zevran didn’t know which direction he was running in, only that it was away. Roots reached up to snag his boots and trip him, branches grasped at his clothes, armour and hair like claws, like the past, trying to drag him back and reclaim him.

This is what you are, Zevran! This is what you always will be!

**

Nails pierced Zevran’s back and buttocks as he moved with lithe grace atop the slender, curving body beneath him. Sun-bronzed fingers traversed familiar territory, seeking the places he knew she was powerless before, and a pleased smile crossed his face as she arched into his caresses, gasping his name. He responded by pressing his lips to the soft angle of her throat and shoulder, hot breath and searing kisses trailing a path of fire down her already sensitised flesh.

This time he would defeat her. He knew all her tricks by now, had learned every move and moan—

A slender hand glided down the muscles of his chest, down between their bodies where they were joined…warm lips brushed his ear and whispered.

Zevran gasped in surprise, cursed under his breath as his body thrust deeply forward, and shuddered as he lost control.

Soft laughter tickled his ear as his heart slowed from a thunder.

“I win again, hm?”

“My dear Rinna,” he replied, trying with all his might to sound perfectly at ease and not in the least that he was, at present, as helpless as a newborn kitten, “if losing to you is always going to be this enjoyable, I will be happy to continue doing so.”

She chuckled again, a soft and contented sound. “Liar.”

If he was honest with himself, it wasn’t a complete lie. It was enjoyable, yes, imminently pleasurable, yes, and there was an unaccustomed feeling of repleteness after such episodes, something he didn’t normally associate with sex. But he was who he was, Zevran Arainai, consummate lover, and the thought of someone, anyone, who could dominate him so easily and so often plagued his mind, buzzing incessantly like a fly trapped behind a windowpane.

It was a joke! Every time he thought he had her…

He rolled on to his side on the bed and looked at her, openly admiring as she shifted her body to face him. Gorgeous, graceful, and ah…such curves. Beauty she had in abundance, and while he appreciated such superficial splendour it was not beauty alone that kept his attention…

Lips curved gently, sweetly, as she smiled at him. Something in his stomach fluttered uncomfortably as she reached out, fingers caressing his brow and brushing a blond lock away from his eyes. “Still trying to figure it out?” she murmured.

He caught her hand and looked at her with frustration glittering in his eyes, but could not help smiling back. “How do you do it?”

She grinned impishly. “It’s a secret. I told you, you have to figure it out yourself.”

“Well, then…” He turned her hand over, bringing it to his lips to kiss the inside of her wrist. “I suppose we will have to try again. It seems I am a very slow learner, no?”

“You think you can last all night, Zev?” she teased, then yelped and laughed as he pulled her to him, twisting her around so she faced away and he pressed hungrily into her back.

“My dear Rinna,” he said quietly, nimble finger already beginning a new exploration up her shivering body. “That sounded like a challenge…”

**

Taliesen eyed the folded piece of parchment Zevran handed him. “What’s this, then?”

“You have to open it,” Zevran explained patiently, grinning. “And then you have to read it.”

The human assassin sighed loudly, put his boots up on one of the many low tables in the room and did as bidden. “’Your bid has been accepted,’” he read aloud. “Great, congratulations, what bid?”

Zevran told him and Taliesen blinked, sat up straight then leaned across the table.

“You, my friend, are mental,” he said. “That is a crazy job. Whatever master gave you this gave you a sodding death warrant.”

Zevran laughed loudly. “Does that mean you don’t want to be on my team this time, old friend? Think of it! I have been wanting something like this for years, and when we pull it off not even the masters will be able to deny how ridiculously awesome we are.”

“Wake up, Zevran!” Taliesen retorted, but the gleam of interest shone in his eyes. “You go swanking around all the time announcing to all who will listen, whether they want to or not, that you are the best Crow, killer and lover extraordinaire. It was only a matter of time until someone higher up called you on that.” He waved the parchment before the elf’s eyes and dropped it. “How much did you bid, anyway?”

“Only twenty-five percent, and that is the point,” Zevran said as Taliesen gave him a look of utter disbelief. “I don’t care about the fortune. Not for this one. I want the recognition! I am the best, everyone here knows it, and I want to bring you along with me.” He grinned. “What do you say?”

Taliesen rubbed his chin, shook his head then grinned back. “I still say you’re mental. But all right. I’m with you.”

Zevran nodded once and leaned back with a satisfied smile, but his head turned when he heard a familiar laugh. Rinna had entered the room. She was all the way over the other side, exchanging pleasantries with another Crow, but the faintest waft of her voice on the air and he heard. Why was that? She glanced in his direction and saw him looking at her, and while she was clever enough not to make some overt gesture of familiarity, she did smile.

“What’s going on there?” Taliesen asked with amused interest, studying his companion.

Zevran, who had been smiling without even realising it, held his expression firmly and looked from Rinna to Taliesen. “Wrapped around my little finger,” he said.

“Someone is, I daresay.” Zevran scoffed at this, but Taliesen only smirked at him. “Flavour of the month? You used to have flavours of the day, Zev. Several flavours of the day. Remember that Winter night in Nevarra, the Sigil Blessed? How many was it?”

“Eight.”

“I thought it was nine.”

Zevran grinned. “I don’t count the guardsman. He passed out before we really got started.”

“Oh, right, that. My point is that if I’ve noticed something, you can bet your sweet elven arse that others are taking note.”

Zevran rolled his eyes. “There is nothing to notice, Taliesen,” he said in a bored voice, but an inexplicable fear tingled in his blood. “Or rather, there is plenty to notice,” he corrected himself. “Long legs, dark hair, a truly magnificent bosom…”

“Not my type,” Taliesen said with a wink.

“In fact, I think I’ll ask her to be on the team.”

“Really? Rinna?”

“Can you give me a good reason why not?” Zevran invited, spreading his arms and raising a brow. “She is an excellent bladeswoman, good with a bow, knows her poisons and locks, and I have teamed up with her before several times.”

“No doubt.” Taliesen shrugged. “It’s your contract, Zev. If you think you can talk her into it—“

“Just watch,” Zevran said, standing. “She will do anything for me. Like I said…wrapped around my little finger.”

Taliesen chuckled and settled back to watch. “More the fool her, eh?”

**

The weather was humid. It always was in Antiva. Zevran stood at the window of the upper floor of an old warehouse, back to the wooden wall and counting under his breath as he peered at a distant rooftop with the aid of a spyglass.

“No more guards than we were expecting,” he mused quietly, lowering the qunari device. He grinned over his shoulder. “Evidently they don’t want us to know that they know we’re coming.”

“Or there is no leak,” Rinna said impatiently. “Taliesen’s source could be wrong.”

“No, my dear,” Zevran disagreed, “he has been reliable in the past and something is definitely rotten around here. Besides, I did not land a contract this much fun just to get shot because I decided to ignore the warnings. Until we know more, we sit tight.”

“How long is he going to be?”

“As long as it takes.” He chuckled when she made an aggravated sound, pulled away from the window and stowed the spyglass carefully in a leather case. “What is the matter, Rinna? You are acting as high-strung as a mare in heat.”

She made a face at him. “I just expected to see some action by now. Instead we’re cooped up in a building that smells like cat ****** while Taliesen gets to skulk around digging up all the dirt!”

Zevran laughed and walked towards her, eyes gleaming. “You want some action, do you?”

“That depends…” She leaned against a wooden support, clasped her hands behind her head and fixed him with an arch, knowing smile. “Does it involve dirt?”

“My dear Rinna…” Fingers roamed lazily over her shoulders and down her leather-armoured spine while lips pressed hot and hungry to the exposed flesh of her throat. “Does it not…” A playful nip administered to the lobe of one pointed ear. “…always…” Hands seized and lifted, his lean body pinning hers to the timber. “…involve dirt?”

Her legs and arms had instinctively wrapped around him for balance, and one of Zevran’s hands slid a long caress up her bare thigh, all the way up beneath the leather skirt she wore. She gasped softly, arching, fingernails digging into his hair and nape.

…and the door opened.

“Are you two at it again?” Taliesen said in mock-disgust. “Can I not leave you alone for half an hour?”

“You can leave us alone for two hours,” Zevran suggested, nuzzling Rinna’s neck without looking around. He paused, considering, then amended: “Maybe three.”

Rinna grinned at the human over Zevran’s shoulder. “Jeeaaaalous?”

“Oh, of course,” Taliesen said with a wide smirk. “Next time you can do the running around, Legs, and leave Zev to me. What have you got that I don’t?”

Zevran pressed a languid kiss to the swell of Rinna’s breasts. “I can name a couple of things, Taliesen.”

“Hah…well, if it comes to that, I have a couple of things she don’t…Including, you know…” Here he cupped both hands around his mouth: “That information we’ve been trying to wrangle for two days now.”

Zevran sighed and let Rinna down with a regretful smile. “Business, alas, calls.”

“Not a moment too soon, either,” Taliesen said. “Go watch the front door, Rinna. Could be wrong, but I think someone was casing the place. Brown cloak, red hair, big sword. ”

“I’m on it. Fill me in later, Zev?”

“In more ways than one,” Zevran promised, and she was away.

Taliesen looked at his companion silently until the sound of the door closing came to their ears, then he shook his head. “If you two were any more attached to each other, we’d need surgery to pry you apart.”

Zevran laughed. “You are jealous.”

“Get over yourself, Zev. I’m not sentimental enough to get jealous, I just wish she’d share once in a while.” Taliesen cast a quick glance out over the warehouse floor and lowered his voice. “Just how attached to her are you? Honestly, now.”

“Not at all. We have our fun, but that is all it is. One of us will tire of the other sooner or later, that is the way of such things, but I intend to keep enjoying her for as long as the relationship is…amicable.”

“Good to hear. I had to ask, Zev. Couldn’t look past the chance you were in on it with her.”

Zevran’s eyes narrowed. “In on what?”

Taliesen’s voice became quieter still, his face serious. “She’s the leak, Zev. Rinna. Garos saw her taking a bribe from one of our mark’s agents.”

“Really.” Zevran smiled, but something deep inside him went very still.

“You know the deal with the Crows. We succeed, the House gets its cut, we get ours. Word is Rinna’s asked our target to make a counter-offer and got a sweet deal. She turns on us at the right moment, sticks a proverbial and literal knife in our backs, receives a good bag of gold and skips Antiva free, the Crows thinking she died with us.” Taliesen snorted. “Little **** thinks she can play us? Us?”

“Play ’me’, more likely,” Zevran suggested, the words seeming to come from very far away. “She thinks she has me eating out of the palm of her hand.”

And he had been, like a stupid mark, brought to the edge of being fooled and exploited because of his damned fascination with her. Evidence of Rinna’s betrayal was unnecessary—this, this right here was the bald truth that she was a threat, that she could do this to him whenever she chose. Sentimentality, feelings, attachment, trust, call it what you like, you didn’t give any of that to anyone or they could ruin you just by knowing you too well. That was why ‘friend’ was just a word amongst the Crows, tossed about carelessly without meaning or emotion, its only purpose to get someone else to lower their guard towards you a little more, to give you the edge.

Just a word…

Just like ‘love’.

“We have to kill her, you know. She’s betrayed the Crows.”

The human was watching him closely. Zevran nodded his assent. “You can do the honours, Taliesen, so long as I get to kiss her goodbye first.”

There was an appreciative chuckle and a smirk. “You always did like to give them a nice send-off. You asked for three hours, I believe?”

Zevran shook his head. “Make it ten minutes. She is a traitor, Taliesen, not a mark.”

“I’ll send her up and see you in a bit, then we can get a move-on on this contract.”

Taliesen slipped from the room and Zevran went to the window, staring blindly out into the afternoon brightness.

Just another pretty face, he told himself as the seconds ticked past. Just another woman…she has nothing over me, and I will prove it to myself before she dies.

He sheathed his heart with ice and waited, an assassin ready for the kill, fully aware of what failure to do the deed would cost him. When she returned to the room his years of training and experience were in full control. He was composed and ready.

“I got him, Zev,” she reported without preamble. “Taliesen went to look for—“

She got no further. Zevran crossed the floor in a swift stride and pinned her hard against the wall, his mouth taking hers demandingly. She made a sound of surprise but didn’t struggle out of his embrace.

Foolish. You trust me too much. I will not make that mistake with you.

“Zev,” she managed breathlessly when he let her up for air and began tearing her armour off. “What are you doing?”

He chuckled softly and murmured his reply: “Seducing you…no?”

“But what did Tal—“ She was interrupted by another kiss. “What did Talies—“ And another. “What’d he s—“ She gave up as his lips and tongue and teeth found a new target below her neckline and tilted her head back against the wooden paling with a groan. “Sod it,” she whispered hoarsely. “I’ll guess it was good news.”

He did not let her remove his armour, and Rinna did not complain. It was only practical that one of them remained armed on the job, after all, and if he wanted her naked then she’d be naked. But she was no fool. She realised something was amiss in the way he took her: hard, not gentle; aggressive, not seeking pleasure so much as some kind of satisfaction. She tried to reach him, but her caresses and whispers left him unmoved. He deafened himself to her voice and all but ignored her touch.

This time…he defeated her. He rode her until she cried out in his arms, spent and completely his, then he let her slide from his grasp and collapse to the floor.

“Zev?” she whispered, confused. “What’s—“

She cried out again in pain as Taliesen suddenly appeared beside her, grabbing a handful of her long hair and pressing a blade to her throat. She didn’t even try to evade or break free; her widening eyes fixed on Zevran as he hiked up his smallclothes with cool unconcern.

“The Antivan Crows,” Taliesen said tauntingly into Rinna’s left ear, “send their regards.”

“What?” Rinna repeated. She lifted a hand to try and push the blade away but Taliesen grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm behind her with less than gentle care. She whimpered with pain and confusion. “What are you going on about?”

“You betrayed us, Rinna,” Zevran said, gazing down at her coldly, “and you know what we do with traitors.”

“I…I what? I didn’t betray anyone, least of all you! Zev, I…I love you, I couldn’t betray you if I wanted to!”

Both men laughed. Zevran crouched down before the girl so he could grin straight into her face. “You love me?” he said with cruel tenderness. “Love is just a word, my dear, a word ****s use to tempt their clients to return, and a word marks and traitors use to try and talk us out of killing them.”

“It’s true,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes. “I swear by Andraste’s name, it’s true! I love you and I would never betray you, not for anything.”

“I don’t care if it’s true,” Zevran said, laughing once more and reaching out to trace a familiar, lazy caress around one exposed breast. “Why should I?”

He stood again, staring contemptuously as Rinna simply gazed back at him, her eyes full of hope and cursed emotion, full of useless faith that her words meant something to him. It would have been better if she tried to run or make a grab for her blades, but she didn’t. She just kept watching him like she expected him to come around, like she could not conceive the possibility he would ever willingly hurt her.

He spat at her then to make her glance aside, to see her flinch and realise how wrong she was.

“Zevran Arainai,” she tried once more, tears tracking down her face and hands fisting on her knees where she knelt on the floor. “I love you. For so long, I’ve…” she swallowed, whimpering again as Taliesen’s blade scratched her skin and blood welled. “I thought you…Please,” she begged hoarsely. “Please don’t kill me. I’ll do anything you say, Zev, anything!”

“Maker’s breath,” Taliesen swore, and snorted his scorn. “She really is wrapped around your pinky, my friend. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“Please!”

“The Crows don’t spare traitors,” Zevran said curtly. “And you have nothing I want, Rinna. You die here.”

Taliesen’t blade cut swiftly and deeply in a horizontal line, enough to sever the windpipe and not much more. It was not a kind death, but betrayal and lies warranted no less. Taliesen retained his hold on Rinna’s hair, keeping her head wrenched back so she was forced to stare at Zevran as she tried and failed to draw air into her lungs.

But she did not attempt to look away. Her eyes did not leave him, and her faith that he would somehow save her, even though she was now irrevocably beyond anyone’s power to help, remained in her gaze even when life fled it.

**

This is what you are! That is all she should be to you!

Zevran’s shoulder clipped a tree and he spun, dagger flashing into his hand. He stabbed at the trunk with a wild roar, sinking the blade into the wood. He would have pulled it free and attacked again in blind anger until he had no strength left, but the weapon had stuck, wedged in the trunk.

“No,” he whispered to himself harshly, knuckles white around the hilt and forehead pressing to rough bark. “I am not going back…I will not betray her trust.”

There was no reply—not that he’d really been talking to anyone.

[Hecthorn]

Great update, it's nice to see some of Zev's past and the events converning Rinna.
Personally, I never liked him very much (nor did I like Alistair quite much, he appeared so whiny *tries to avoid the incoming blast*), but this makes him more understandable and I might actually load an old savegame to get some more info on Zev from himself...

Shadow of Light Dragon wrote...

And hey, Hecthorn! Welcome back

*hopes the formatting doesn't screw up...*

Well, thanks for the welcome and I never made this formatting-mistake again after you corrected me
And even now, it is corrected within my story.....

Getting a pice of Zevran's past is a pretty good bit for every reader, it addds a lot more depth to him as a character.

Modifié par Hecthorn, 10 avril 2010 - 03:24 .

[Tarante11a]

Excellent chapter. Thought the smut was pitched just right - I thoroughly enjoyed reading it. Just the right amount of rude without it being laughably over the top or not enough. (but is a bit sad - wot no Zev in cowboy hat? yee-ha!). And I dare say that poor Rinna's plight caused a little welling-up, I had forgotten what ****bag Zevran probably was before meeting the GW and I liked the fact that you reminded me.

[Phoenix Swordsinger]

Very nice chapter. Things just get more complicated don't they?

[Jules8445]

I realllllly liked the way you wrote out Zev's story. I honestly thought that his was one of the most touching stories in the game...in its own, special, creepy assassin way.



It just made everything else about him kind of make sense. Really nice job writing that out.

[Miri1984]

I loved that. I'm actually really warming to Zevran lately, and this makes him even more interesting!

[Shadow of Light Dragon]

Busy week, but now I'm in the clear! "How to Train Your Dragon" recommended as a great way to relax.

Part 32 - Influences

To Asleena, the cold of the morning air felt even deeper when Zevran pulled away, taking the taunting heat of his body with him. She remained where he’d left her, one hand fisted in the horse’s mane and the other braced against its flank, the brush unmoving beneath her palm, her limbs frozen to immobility but invaded by a trembling she could not control. Fear and desire waged their internal battle and she closed her eyes amidst the conflict, drawing in a long breath that shuddered in her lungs.

That was close.

She could stop him if he tried. That’s what she’d always told herself. She was strong enough, physically. The yearning of her flesh for his warmth to return and embrace her told a completely different story about her strength, however. She suspected that if Zevran had continued, she would have let him…and not been thinking of Alistair at all until it was too late.

One part of her, the part that longed to be held and loved, did not care. It argued that Zevran had been here for her when no one else had been, done practically nothing untoward despite countless opportunities, even in the face of a desire demon’s manipulations. He had saved her life and not only kept her good company, but made her forget her own doubts and unhappiness. Had she come this far alone, seeking Alistair, how long would it have been until she remembered how to laugh or smile? Zevran had made her happy. So, logically, why couldn’t they be happy together?

The other part of her, that which held firm to all she believed and cherished, kept arguing it would be a fatal mistake to succumb. Her love for Alistair still burned deeply, and she would still go after him. Even if she didn’t love him she’d go after him because he was, if nothing else, her friend and a good man who deserved more than a bitter, self-imposed exile.

And Zevran deserved more than a divided heart.

Asleena’s next breath was steady as her resolve gained the upper hand. She opened her eyes and stepped back from the horse, letting the brush fall atop one of the saddles. None of this changed the fact she still had to talk to Zevran, preferably before they found Alistair and hence hopefully, before they reached Starkhaven. Except the assassin had made it plain he didn’t want to talk.

Oh, come on…Alistair probably doesn’t want to talk and you’re not going to let him brush you of, are you? Why should Zev be any different?

“Asleena? Are you all right?”

She turned her head to look at Sindel’s concerned face. The former Keeper’s eyes flicked to Asleena’s brow where the scar from last night’s encounter with the darkspawn lingered. “Great Protector, what happened?”

“Just a few scratches from an encounter last night,” Asleena said reassuringly, deciding to leave out the fact it had been darkspawn and grateful she’d had enough time to recover that her voice wasn’t shaking. Sindel still looked worried, though.

“We heard Zevran yell at you,” the elf said, looking somewhat ashamed. “I didn’t mean to listen in, but it sort of woke us up. I just wanted to see if you were all right.”

Asleena glanced past her to where Galahan was re-lighting the campfire and sighed. The privacy of the camp seemed to have become a lot less private with two more people around. “I can’t say I’m entirely happy,” she admitted, “but we’ll sort it out. I was thinking of going to look for him, once you and Galahan awoke.” She hoped this would suffice. She didn’t really want to go into detail on what had almost happened, mostly because it hadn’t happened.

Sindel gave her a long look but apparently decided not to press the issue further. “I don’t know how to help you with him,” she said, “but I can heal your wounds.”

The Warden smiled. “I appreciate it. And the concern. How are you holding up?”

“No better and no worse, I think,” she replied, then wove her magic. Asleena felt a welcoming warmth as healing energy flowed through her. “In many ways…the memories hurt more than the corruption does.”

“Talking about it might help,” Asleena said, remembering Galahan’s request and seizing on the opening. “If you want to ride with me today we could just…well, talk. About that, or about anything. Girl time, as my friend Leliana would say.”

“Girl time?” Sindel smirked a bit and lifted one dark brow. “Like…talking about the men in our lives and how incredibly frustrating they can be?”

Asleena grinned. “We can swap stories. Giggle. That sort of thing.”

That got a laugh. “Do you know,” Sindel said, smiling, “I think I’d like that. But for now, I’d better help Galahan prepare breakfast.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “He’s wonderful at cooking meat, but anything else turns out lumpy or burnt.”

“Remind me to tell you about Alistair’s attempts to toast bread and cheese over an open fire later on.”

They both sniggered a bit, then, as one woman, walked grinning to the campfire. Galahan was sitting there, a pot in hand. He glanced up as they approached, took in their indecently smug expressions and immediately looked suspicious. Sindel plonked herself down next to him and, without warning, leaned over and kissed him full on the lips.

Looking slightly more suspicious, Galahan asked, “What was that for?”

“For being you.”

Asleena glanced away, smiling to herself and hurting just a bit inside as Sindel kissed her beloved again, a bit more lingeringly this time. No wonder her friends had always made comments whenever she and Alistair embraced in public. It was damned inconsiderate really, kissing in front of other people and being so shamelessly happy.

Repressing a sigh she crouched before Ferrix, who sat up and watched her.

“You love me, right boy?” she asked wistfully.

Ferrix barked, then he licked her from chin to brow.

“Good to know,” Asleena said, wiping her face and ignoring the laughter of the elves. “You’re with me. We’ve got an assassin to track down.” She looked at Galahan and Sindel. “Will you two be all right for a little bit?”

“Yes,” Galahan confirmed, but his brow had furrowed. “Are you sure about going after Zevran, though? I could find him for you.”

The offer was plain, and she considered it seriously. Galahan was a neutral party and Zevran would have no reason to snap at him. The hunter might even be able to calm him down, like he had for her last night. However…she’d prefer to sort things out with Zevran herself, not use an intermediary. It might not be wise considering the almost-events of this morning, but there it was.

“Thanks, but no. Ferrix and I will handle it.”

At her gesture, the mabari headed out of the clearing and into the forest, following whatever trail Zevran had left in his hasty departure. Asleena followed and behind her, unseen, the Dalish exchanged worried glances.

**

Zevran heard the rustle of movement in the undergrowth, something four-legged moving towards his position fast. Blinking a few times as the noise pulled him from his reverie, he released the dagger stuck in the tree and drew his sword with a silent motion, turning his body so his back was to the trunk and blade poised. Nothing had disturbed him until now. Tree branches and lush foliage had swayed and whispered at the commands of the wind, not of animals or darkspawn.

There was a snuffling noise, then Ferrix’s head appeared around the trunk. At the sight of Zevran he barked once, happily, then turned tail and galloped away.

“Zevran?” Asleena’s voice called from some way off.

As though things hadn’t been hard enough without her actually being here. Zevran remained unmoving, wondering what to do. It was moderately gratifying that she’d come after him at all, considering. The smart option, the easy option, would have been to stay at camp and wait for him to come slinking back, or pack up and leave him to his demons. But maybe she’d had enough. Maybe she was going to tell him to leave this time. Should he hope for that outcome or dread it?

He sheathed his sword and stepped out of concealment. “Here I am.”

She was still a distance away, half-visible through some trees and ferns as she followed Ferrix, but it wasn’t long before she’d picked a path to where he stood. She stopped out of arm’s reach, the warhound sinking to his haunches beside her with tongue lolling out in apparently blissful ignorance at the issues between his biped companions.

Asleena’s face did not look closed-off as Zevran would have expected had he been in store for a dismissal from her company. Rather, she looked determined, which was somehow worse. It meant she was after discourse, and she did not intend to be flicked off again as she had been earlier that morning.

“Talk to me,” the Grey Warden said. “Or yell at me. Whichever you prefer.”

“I could never raise my voice to you, my dear lady—“

She cut him off. “You came very close. It’s strange in a way…all this time I was thinking you never could get upset or confused. You always come across as being so in control of yourself. I’ve never seen you angry, not really, and I’ve never seen you cry.”

“Such emotion is not safe for assassins,” Zevran replied. “We must be in control of ourselves, always, or we are open to all kinds of exploitation.”

“What other emotions are unsafe for assassins?” she asked, cocking her head.

“I…” He gave her a helpless look. She could be brutally direct when she chose to be.

“Those boots and gloves, Zev,” she went on when he couldn’t continue, “were offerings of friendship. They were things that held no importance to me personally, but keepsakes I thought you might like after hearing some of your stories. That earring,” she continued relentlessly, “is not a token of thanks. You said it holds personal value to you, and no one gives away something that important unless it has meaning attached.”

It took all his self-control not to shrink back before the challenge in her voice or try to deflect the conversation to safer streets. “What if…it was… a token of affection?” he asked hesitantly.

“If it was that…” Asleena paused before continuing, picking her words with care, “I imagine I would be flattered. Honoured. Sad…that I couldn’t accept it with a clear conscience, things being as they are. ” Her calm façade wavered slightly as her next words came with both more difficulty and emotion. “And I would hope…that my dear friend would understand why I said ‘no’.”

Zevran swallowed hard and nodded. What that meant for the future he didn’t know and did not wish to ask. They had already had that particular discussion in the Vimmark, and he found himself oddly content with the answer she had given at the time. It would suffice.

“I understand,” he said at last, quietly, “and I apologise for my behaviour. You asked for none of this and I promised I would respect your wishes. I almost broke that oath and…and I almost did you great wrong, I fear.”

“But you didn’t.”

“The last woman I had any care for,” he persisted, thinking perhaps he had not impressed the inherent danger he felt she was in, “I betrayed, humiliated and saw murdered in cold blood, all because I…I was a coward. How do you know I will not do the same to you?”

She met his eyes with simple faith. “Because you told me you regretted it.”

“That is no assurance,” he countered, feeling his anger kindle, though at her words or her expression he couldn’t tell. “That is not knowing.”

Asleena frowned. “If you want to argue semantics, then fine. I don’t know you won’t do to me as you did to Rinna; I believe you won’t, Zevran Arainai, because I believe you don’t want to be that man anymore. Why would you go back? Do you want to?”

“No! I…I want to go forward, to start afresh. I simply do not know how.” Zevran took a calming breath and tried to explain. “When I went to Ferelden, after what happened with Rinna, I was looking for a final mission that would lead to my death. The masters had not punished me for what had happened, and so I sought penance for myself.

“The contract for the surviving Grey Wardens came and I took it. Even with the legendary skills of your order it was not difficult for me to find others for my team—many jumped at the chance, in fact. My last mission had been a grand success,” he said with certain bitterness, “the reputation mine and Taliesen’s, and other Crows were eager to share in the fame of downing a fabled Grey Warden. None of them knew that I meant for that mission to fail.” He made an inelegant sound. “A simple ambush on the road against an armed party? Does that truly seem like a tactic I would use?”

“Actually, now that you mention it, no.”

“Quite right. Forgive me for saying so, but for a beautiful woman such as yourself, seduction would definitely have been my first choice.”

“And possibly your last.” She gave him a withering look. “What was your point?”

“I never expected to survive that,” Zevran said. “I thought death would make it all better. It usually does, no? But you spared my life when I had thought justice would decree otherwise.

“And now, here I am. By your side I have done things and fought in battles I consider worthy, and I have been proud to be a part of that. If I were to leave your company, I have little doubts I would make my living as an assassin. No,” he said, raising a hand when Asleena opened her mouth to object, “it is true, I know it is. It is what I am best at. After Queen Anora’s coronation, when I made my offer to travel on with you, it was, in part, because I…I believed I could do greater things with you, worthier things. Do you understand what I am saying?”

“Zev, don’t think I’m trying to get rid of you by saying this, but what makes you think you couldn’t do great things on your own?”

“Because,” he replied quietly, not breaking eye-contact with her, “being in your company gives me reason to try.”

She looked humbled, if a little sad at his words. “Thank you, Zevran,” she said. “I’m touched…truly.”

A short silence fell and Zevran, trying not to appear uncomfortable, made for a normal tone of voice before saying, “Come. Enough talk. Let us return to camp, hm? A new day awaits, and a good breakfast would not go amiss before we head onwards to Starkhaven.”

Asleena smiled slightly, nodded and spoke a word to Ferrix which sent the mabari trotting back the way they’d come. The Warden waited where she stood for Zevran to reach her side and then, together, they followed after.

Modifié par Shadow of Light Dragon, 18 avril 2010 - 01:04 .

[Phoenix Swordsinger]

This is all so sad. I can't wait for more.

[Tarante11a]

I agree with Phoenix Swordsinger, this is terribly sad. In fact, I was so downcast by the end of reading this chapter I had to go away and come back to review. I'm afraid I was having a bit of a sulk because you haven't let them kiss each other with tongues and fall in to a sweaty clinch. I loved the chapter though, and I'm now very curious about what is going to happen. You've confused me.  Which is great!

Lovely chapter, but next one now please!

Modifié par Tarante11a, 18 avril 2010 - 12:21 .

[Shadow of Light Dragon]

Things will hopefully speed up really soon, so feel free to place your bets on the outcome of the Joining.

Part 33 - Thinking Ahead

Near the end of that day they forded a wide branch of the Minanter River, and halfway through the next they reached the top of a forested ridge that overlooked Starkhaven.

The Circle Tower was of an architecture unfamiliar to Asleena, squat and utilitarian rather than graceful, and it jutted up from the massive crag that dominated the valley so smoothly that it was, at first glance, hard to discern where natural rock ended and hewn stone began. The weathered structure was a dull brown, and growths of plant life sprouted from it with such profusion that the building could have been likened to a gigantic tree stump. Sprawled around the base of the crag was not so much a city as a collection of villages, smatterings of log cabins and the occasional stone manor.

“We will reach it early tomorrow,” Galahan said as the party paused to take in the scene from their vantage point. He slid down from the halla and murmured something to it, then bowed. The halla almost seemed to incline its horned head in return before trotting back into the forest. “Much of the trade in this area revolves around hunting and trapping,” Galahan went on, returning his attention to the scattered settlements. “Poachers would be upon us quickly if we brought a halla near.”

“Even with all of us around?” Asleena asked.

“I prefer not to tempt fate.”

“It would be like walking into a cheap side of town wearing expensive silk and jewels,” Zevran said thoughtfully. “But if there are poachers here, I am surprised the Dalish have not exterminated them by now.”

Galahan smiled grimly and pointed towards the hulking tower. “You shouldn’t be.”

“Will you two be able to keep your instincts under control while we’re here?” Asleena asked, looking from Galahan to Sindel, the latter of whom was riding double with her.

“We will follow your lead, Warden,” Sindel said, and Galahan nodded his assent.

“Let me know if something’s really upsetting you and I’ll see what we can do. Priority, though, is getting to the tower and having the Joining prepared.”

The elves all nodded. Sindel’s condition had not visibly worsened, but with the former Keeper perched in the saddle right in front of Asleena it had been almost frighteningly easy to feel the creeping spread of the Taint in her body. The Grey Warden had not mentioned this to any of her companions and maintained an optimistic outlook, doing her part to keep Sindel engaged in conversation.

For the most part it had been quite easy. She and Sindel had travelled at a distance behind the men and both had chattered away quite happily. In fact, Asleena couldn’t remember the last time she’d spoken so freely and cheerfully on certain subjects since being in Leliana’s company, and before the Landsmeet of course. There had been a great deal of giggling, more serious confidences shared, and Asleena hadn’t realised how much she’d missed simple female companionship until now. She almost felt like her old self at times, and wondered how different a woman Sindel had been before inheriting her mentor’s role as Keeper in times of pain, then being taken by the darkspawn.

Her close conversations with the elven woman had kept her apart from any discussions that went on between Zevran and Galahan, and she could only guess at what the two men had been speaking of. There had been occasional bouts of laughter, but not nearly as many as from Sindel and Asleena. Asleena found it a bit worrying, but neither man gave any indication that their stance towards one another was anything but cordial.

“We are down to two horses then,” Zevran observed, and grinned slyly at Galahan. “You can always ride double with me, my friend. Do you prefer being in front or behind?”

Galahan smirked a little, faster on the uptake than Asleena herself, who rolled her eyes when she caught the double meaning behind the ‘generous offer’. No matter which option Galahan picked, Zevran would have some remark to follow up with, and probably some subtle gymnastics in the saddle to boot.

“In fact, it would be safer if we all walked from here,” Galahan said. “You will have to lead the horses.”

“If we’re dismounting anyway,” Asleena said, helping Sindel down before she followed, “we might as well stop and eat something first, and give the animals a break and a drink. Is it always so hot this far north?”

Zevran swung out of his saddle with nimble ease. “If you think this is hot,” he replied, “you should visit Antiva some time. Hot and wet every day of the year…and I am just speaking of the weather,” he added with another wicked smile.

After a brief rest, they continued onwards on foot. Galahan and Zevran, having the keener eyes and better sense for untainted danger, took point with Ferrix in attendance. Sindel and Asleena followed with the horses, picking up their last conversation like it had only ended seconds ago.

“So there he was,” Asleena said, “the bread is literally on fire by now, cheese is dripping everywhere, and he just starts waving it around in the air”—she gesticulated wildly for emphasis—“and trying to blow it out!”

“Did he manage it?” Sindel asked, wiping her eyes and grinning.

Asleena laughed harder. “No, he just made it burn faster! And then the sandwich flew off the stick and landed on my leg.” She winced. “Melted cheese really hurts when it’s hot and on fire. I had to go to Wynne later for a spot of healing. Trying to explain how I got minor burns from cheese drippings and toast wasn’t the most heroic point of my adventuring life.”

Sindel laughed. “I hope he got a good talking to for getting you hurt!”

“Oh, he did. Wynne spoke very sternly to him. And Zevran said…” Here she put on her best impression of the Antivan’s voice, “’I do hope you intend to make it up to the lady, my friend. Might I suggest starting by kissing the burns better? They were on her left thigh, no?’ Poor Alistair looked like he wished the earth would just swallow him whole.”

“He did apologise, though?”

“Later, when everyone had stopped teasing him. Actually, I went to his tent make sure he was all right…I felt so sorry for him. He babbled something about hoping I’d forgive him for being such an idiot, hugged me, kissed me, and…” She stopped suddenly and grinned. “Well…it got a bit steamy after that.”

“What’s it like?” Sindel asked hesitantly.

“Being with someone?” Asleena thought for a moment. How did you explain it to someone whose only experience of the act was violent abuse? “With Alistair it was…always wonderful. Sensitive, passionate and often quite playful. It could be a lot of fun,” she confessed, smiling. “There were times when I felt…completely weak and vulnerable. But at the same time I always felt completely secure…like, while I was in his arms, nothing else in the world could touch me. Thedas could burn, but I would be safe.”

The elven woman was silent, and then, in a small voice: “I’d give anything to feel that.”

“You will,” Asleena assured her gently, giving her an encouraging smile. “When you’re ready.”

For a minute or so, they walked in silence. The wordless sounds of whatever discussion Galahan and Zevran were having could be heard from up ahead.

“Can Zevran cook?” Sindel asked after a while.

“Really well, actually. He once told me fine cuisine is practically a requirement if you want to excel in the arts of seduction.” Asleena grinned. “I think it was always a challenge for him coming up with new and exotic ways to prepare what foodstuffs we had, then convincing us to try and eat whatever he produced.” She laughed, remembering something. “Oh, and it had to be served properly too—had to look pretty and have a garnish.”

“A garnish?

“A little sprig of some herb or a slice of fruit. A decoration, really.”

“How strange.” Sindel sounded puzzled. “Why would you want to make food look pretty when it’s the taste and quantity that matters?”

“Maybe it’s just supposed to impress people by how much effort it took?”

Sindel considered this. “When Galahan wants to impress me with food,” she said, “he hunts it down himself, skins it, cuts it up, wraps the choicest parts in leaves with tubers and vegetables and roasts them all under hot coals until the juices seep through.”

“All right, that’s pretty impressive. Can you make him do that tonight?”

Sindel giggled. “Probably, yes. It will…it might be our last night together.” She bit her lip. “What will you do, Asleena, if Alistair doesn’t return to Ferelden with you?”

“I don’t know. Run home to my big brother and ask him to make it all better?”

“What about Zevran?” she asked in a softer voice.

Asleena sighed quietly. “I really don’t know.” She’d been trying not to think about it, unsuccessfully at that. She felt dirty for thinking of the Antivan as someone to ‘fall back on’. Zevran had pretty much laid his feelings bare for her, as much as he was able to anyway, and the idea of bedding him just to get over Alistair was fundamentally wrong. In the end she surmised that it all might depend on just how far the emotions would fly when she faced Alistair.

An emotionally distraught woman could be a reckless, dangerous and hurtful creature.

**

By dint of their skills of observation and survival instincts, Zevran and Galahan had become the delegated forerunners for the little party. To the assassin’s mild surprise, Galahan had proved himself to be passable company. Initially he’d resigned himself to long stretches of silence and serious, if not downright cryptic conversation, but the Dalish elf had only fallen quiet when specifically wanting to listen, and while he did have the occasional odd turn of phrase or comment he was, in general, fun to fence with. Zevran usually took considerable delight in shocking his companions, finding that his career as a skilled killer and his prowess as an accomplished lover tended to make even the most stoic of souls uncomfortable, but Galahan took everything in stride.

“You are a killer of sorts,” Zevran said as they walked between the trees. “You enjoy it, do you not?”

“I enjoy the hunt more than the kill,” Galahan said. “The chase is what requires skill, being able to track the prey down and get it in my sights. Once I have a bead on my target I already know I have won. Often I choose to let a prize go if it is particularly wily.”

“Do you not tire of picking off your prey at a distance—if you kill it at all? Close combat is where it is exciting. The struggle, the twisting press of bodies, the sweat and wordless cries…much like making love, no?”

“I take it you do enjoy it.”

“Which? Hand to hand fighting or making love?” Zevran smiled slowly. “Either way, the answer is a resounding ‘yes’. You have…never sampled the latter? Never knocked boots, as the saying goes?”

“I have been with a woman before.”

“A woman?” Zevran echoed, emphasizing the singular. “Considering your views on the subject, dare I ask if you were married to the lady in question?”

“We were not wed. She was human for one thing, and I had not yet earned my vallaslin.”

“How deliciously scandalous,” the Antivan murmured, watching his companion with new interest. “A Dalish elf not even acknowledged a grown man with a human lover. Do speak on, my friend, I am eager to hear the whole sordid story. It is…not a secret, is it?”

“If you mean to ask if Sindel knows the tale, she does.” Galahan shook his head. “But you will have to forgive me if I speak no further of it to you. For now, at least.”

“Oh?”

“I would require something in return, a personal story.”

Zevran grinned. “But I have told you many stories.”

“All of things you were more or less proud of,” Galahan said, smiling slightly. “Call it a bargaining chip. A piece of my life that shames me for a piece of yours.”

“Hm.” Zevran adopted an intrigued smile. “I will consider your offer, but for now I prefer more pleasant subjects than brooding on past mistakes, even for so tantalising a tale as what you offer.”

“As you wish, but don’t delay too long. I might not be alive this time tomorrow.”

“Ah, yes, the Joining. Does it frighten you, the chance of dying?”

“I am not keen to die.” Galahan’s brow furrowed. “But I fear death more if it would mean leaving Sindel alone. She would grieve, and I can’t stand the thought of causing her pain.”

“You could simply not go through with it,” Zevran pointed out. “I am no Grey Warden, yet I travel with one.”

“I have considered it. When I spoke to Alistair about becoming a Warden he told me all sorts of side effects to try and dissuade me. He told me the Joining could kill, it would reduce my lifespan, it would reduce the chances of having children with my beloved.”

Zevran, who had not been aware of that last one, said nothing.

“If Sindel had not become corrupted, I would not have pursued it any further. But now…” The Dalish elf’s face hardened and steel entered his voice. “Being a Grey Warden will allow me to more effectively hunt those things that hurt my love, and those that would do the same to others.” He glanced at Zevran, and an unmistakable light burned in the hunter’s green eyes. “They are the kills I anticipate enjoying: the ones that will feel righteous.”

Remembering what Xai Merras had told him in Markham City about the circumstances surrounding Rinna’s death, Zevran nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said. “That feeling I can well understand.”

When the party stopped for the night and he finally had time to speak with Asleena alone, he decided he would finally bring the subject up with her. No matter how things worked out with Alistair tomorrow, when it was over they would be returning south and there would be little point in bringing up a detour to Antiva once they were travelling in the opposite direction.

But first, he still wanted to ask about things she had done on behalf of other companions.

“It occurred to me,” he said when they were sitting opposite each other at the campfire, “you never did say why Morrigan vanished so abruptly before the siege.”

“You wanted to talk about Morrigan?” she asked, surprised, but then she shrugged. “She wanted something from Loghain, he wasn’t willing to give it to her and I told Morrigan I wasn’t going to command him. She got upset over it and left.”

“My dear…you are being evasive. You do still trust me, yes?”

Asleena sighed. “I’m sorry. It touches on Grey Warden secrets. Look—“ She stopped, glanced at Galahan and Sindel’s tent, then got up and walked around the fire to sit right next to Zevran, almost but not quite touching. “You won’t repeat this to anyone, will you?” she asked, speaking low and frowning at him.

“You have my word.”

“Remember how I told you that no one has ever killed an archdemon and lived? Well, Morrigan came to me and said she had a way. It would involve sleeping with a Grey Warden, one who hadn’t been tainted long, and the use of dark magic. She wanted Loghain for this.”

“Kinky,” Zevran said, a practically automatic response, then grimaced at Asleena’s expression. “Ah…sorry. Loghain declined Morrigan’s delightful offer then?”

“Yes, but you didn’t hear the worst of it. The rite would have made Morrigan pregnant, and she claimed this child would be able to absorb the essence of the archdemon when it was slain, sparing the Grey Warden that felled it.” She paused. “It’s the Taint in us that allows us to end the Blight, Zev. Riodan told us, Loghain and me. It’s why we needed more Grey Wardens.”

“Then the child would have been killed instead of whoever struck the final blow?” Zevran asked, fascinated and not a little appalled, but Asleena shook her head.

“Both Grey Warden and baby would survive. Morrigan said that the Taint in the child would be nullified or something, and it would end up with the uncorrupted soul of an Old God. What she planned to do with it I have no idea.” Asleena looked troubled. “I…had my fears, though. I mean, you remember what she said Flemeth claimed to have in store for her.”

“Take over her body, yes?” Zevran nodded. “I remember. That is why you killed the old witch, is it not?”

“Yes,” she said readily, if quietly. “At Morrigan’s behest. I didn’t even have to, Zev. Flemeth offered to give me the very book Morrigan was after if it meant we’d leave her alone, but…I really believed Morrigan would be in danger if we let Flemeth live. Now I have to wonder how much danger Morrigan herself will be, with so much of Flemeth’s knowledge to hand.” She looked away, at the fire. “I even wonder if she truly considered me a friend, or if she was just using me. She did leave as soon as I stopped agreeing to give her what she wanted.”

Zevran considered the woman sitting beside him, momentarily distracted from where he’d wanted to take the conversation. Why hadn’t he just gone straight to the point?

“I had a request I wished to present to you,” he said, “and I will not leave if you say no, so please hear me out. I have never asked a favour of you before.”

Asleena nodded slowly. “I’m listening.”

“There is a master assassin in Antiva I wish to kill, a Crow. I learned he planted the false information that led to Rinna’s death, and with your expert assistance I believe I could repay him for that.” He nodded northeast. “Antiva is not so much further away, if you were willing to delay returning to Ferelden a little longer.”

“Or indefinitely?” Asleena stared at him. “Being attacked by the Crows is one thing, but going up against one of their masters without provocation? Wouldn’t that be like declaring war on the guild?”

“Ah…” Zevran nodded, hiding his disappointment that she hadn’t straight away pledged her support. “Political repercussions against the Grey Wardens, of course. Say no more.”

“It’s not just that, Zev. You walking back into Antiva? That’s a death trap.” She put a hand to his face and turned it, forcing him to meet her eyes. “You told me yesterday you wanted to go forwards, so listen: if you go to Antiva looking to kill someone, anyone, you’re only going back. I won’t watch that happen.”

Before he could speak or even move, she had pulled away and risen to gaze down at him thoughtfully. “Why did this master set Rinna up?”

“Actually, it was setting me up,” Zevran said. “I was to kill her, learn the truth, then kill myself. For glory, as our good friend Xai would say. It would have worked too, if you had not spared me.”

“Do you think he’ll ever come after you personally?”

Zevran tilted his head, studying her. “Anything is possible, my dear. What if he were to do something so foolish as that?”

She lifted both brows at him. “Well, I’d have to defend you, wouldn’t I?” With a small grin and a nod goodnight, she paused to pat Ferrix before striding off to her tent. Zevran watched her go then chuckled under his breath and settled back to take the first watch, idly wondering what means he could use to lure his enemy out of hiding one day in the future.

[Phoenix Swordsinger]

Almost there! *does a little clap*

[Shadow of Light Dragon]

Thanks for reading


Part 34 - The Beginning of the End

Before dawn, it had rained.

Zevran emerged from his tent to find everything damp, dripping and smelling of earth and leaves. Glancing around the campsite, empty but for the horses and Galahan, Zevran stretched widely and made a face as something wet and cold splashed into his hair from the overhanging branches. He was a city elf at heart, and while cities had their fair share of filth, dirt and seeping liquids, they also happened to have baths, hot water and accommodating body servants if one wanted to get clean. Or a different and much more pleasant kind of dirty.

“I will be relieved to get back to civilisation,” he remarked to Galahan, who was folding up the tent he shared with Sindel. “Say what you like about forests, there is only so much mud and animal droppings a man can take.” On that note he paused, ran a careful hand over his blond tresses and glanced at his fingers to assure himself it had been nothing more than water which had hit him before. “Where are the ladies?” he asked.

“They went to wash,” Galahan said. “Ferrix is with them. If you are hungry, there is some breakfast left by the fire.”

“Is something wrong?” Zevran asked, detecting something in the other elf’s voice.

“I suppose you could say the future preys upon my mind today.” The hunter rocked back on his heel where he crouched, glancing up. “Much will be decided, for good or ill. Lives will change…maybe end.”

“You and Sindel,” Zevran said, “Alistair and Asleena.”

“Even you, Zevran.”

The assassin chuckled. “Ah, is this where you give me another piece of cryptic advice, my friend? You are quite welcome to speak candidly rather than dancing about as you did last time. I told her about Alistair, you know.”

“Told her what about Alistair?”

“That I saw him, of course. What else was there to say?”

“Why you kept silent?”

Zevran gave him a very long look. “And he who listens so closely to what goes on around him would know the answer to that?”

Galahan chewed the inside of his lip, then said, “Do you still want me to speak candidly?”

“I would rather you did not.”

“’Cryptically’, then…as you called it?”

“Why are you so eager to speak at all? Did you not say once that you understand silence?”

Galahan said nothing and looked back to his half-folded tent, lifting another piece of canvas with both hands and pulling it across with a rasp of heavy fabric.

“Besides,” Zevran said, suddenly finding himself unwilling to end the conversation so abruptly, “I suspect she has figured that out by now.” When no response was forthcoming to that, he sighed. “Perhaps you are right. My life may be affected as much as anyone’s today.”

“What ending do you desire for yourself, Zev?” Galahan asked. He looked up at the assassin with a questioning frown.

Zevran shrugged. He could give a cavalier answer, something that meant nothing, a half-truth jest about desiring an ending that involved lovely eyes, dark hair, strong arms and long legs, but things had come too far now to be anything but honest. And what, really, was the point of lying to a man who gave every impression that he already knew the truth?

“The ending I desire,” he said, uncomfortable with revealing anything of himself, “is the one where I am happy. You wish the same thing, no?”

Galahan’s expression was a peculiar mixture of pity and empathy. “Not precisely.”

The sound of feminine chatter became audible from the trees, drawing closer and becoming clearer. Both men glanced in that direction even though there was nothing to see yet but greenery, and Galahan said, “I desire the ending where my love is happy.”

**

For the rest of the morning it was Galahan and Sindel who took the lead, while Zevran and Asleena followed with Ferrix and the horses. The two Dalish seemed to want to make the most of what time they had left, and even though it was uncertain either of them were going to die the possibility weighed heavily on both of them. They walked close together, arms around shoulder or waist, their conversation inaudible beneath rustling leaves.

Asleena had put on her dragonbone armour. She couldn’t say if she was expecting trouble, but for some reason she felt the need to wrap herself in scale and steel, as though the physical sense of protection would be at all useful against words and emotion. She was acutely aware of the assassin keeping pace by her side, walking in a silence that felt unnatural for him. His manner reminded her a little of when they and Sindel had been heading for the earthwound, where Asleena had sensed Alistair’s presence…like he was waiting for the future to happen and decide his fate for him.

“Zev,” she said at last, drawing his attention. “No matter what happens, I meant what I said about Highever. You’d be welcomed there.”

The assassin chuckled at that. “After Arl Howe’s occupation I daresay the keep would need more elven servants, no? Perhaps I could improve the current stock.”

Asleena eyed him, then decided to play along. “Well, you’re a good cook,” she said. “I could put you in charge of the kitchen. We’d have the prettiest food in Ferelden.”

“Oh?” Zevran looked amused at the idea, then he grinned in a sly fashion. “I am no master of the culinary arts by any stretch, but I do take some pride in the preparation of ‘midnight snacks’. A bored noblewoman with a certain hunger would always be able to call upon me in the early hours.”

“Only the noblewomen?” she asked dryly.

“I could make some exceptions in the other direction, of course,” the Antivan replied smoothly. “Your brother, for instance, was quite the handsome looking fellow. Is something the matter?” he added innocently, for Asleena had made a slight choking sound at that, her imagination conjuring up an image of Fergus and Zevran lingering over a late night mug of that delicious hot chocolate while giving each other long and meaningful glances across tumbled blankets.

“Did you have to suggest hitting on Fergus?” she asked plaintively.

“My dear Grey Warden,” Zevran protested with a smirk that belied his tone, “here I thought we were discussing food! Has your brother ever tried Antivan fare?”

“He happens to adore Antivan…fare.” Asleena gave him a filthy look. “You’re horrible,” she accused.

The assassin issued a small bow and flashed another smile, golden-brown eyes dancing. “Not at all, my dear. Simply an acquired taste.”

At least it broke the silence. In truth, most days Zevran could run rings around her with his assorted innuendo and euphemisms. Asleena tended to feel very pleased with herself whenever she managed to get him back, and although such times had become more frequent after their recent companionship, he was still the undisputed master of the verbal sparring arena. Still, losing rarely failed to be entertaining. Or educational.

After a couple of hours trekking through the dense undergrowth, they broke into the cleared area surrounding Starkhaven. The tower looked a great deal bigger from ground level, a hulking, brooding presence.

“Looks very unfriendly, doesn’t it?” she murmured when they’d caught up to where Galahan and Sindel waited.

“The Dalish don’t have a good history with this place,” Sindel said, giving the tower an apprehensive look. “Templars would often go into the Green Dales to hunt for mages not under their control. They have left the clans alone recently…but only because the darkspawn presence made it too dangerous for them, I think.”

“The hunter and trapper community, too, have issue with the Dalish,” Galahan said, indicating several leather-clad archers who were watching the party closely, “for reasons that should be obvious. Elves are not welcome here, save as servants or slaves to the Circle.”

“You’re all with me,” Asleena said firmly, unshouldering Duncan’s shield and strapping it on. “If anyone asks, we’re on Grey Warden business. Let’s hope people remember a Blight ended here.”

They made their way onwards, unchallenged but under a certain amount of scrutiny.

Starkhaven had no paved roads. There were rutted tracks of dirt where carts had been pulled, obvious trails where the passage of feet had worn down grass to bare soil, but nothing paved, not even to the Circle Tower. Asleena noted lumber mills, tanneries, furriers, a slaughterhouse and at least one smithy. There was also a respectable fleet of small ships moored in the Minanter River, which the locals undoubtedly used to transport goods.

“Westwards the Minanter goes all the way to Nevarra City and further,” Zevran said when she mentioned this. “East it exits into the Amaranthine Ocean and not far from Antiva. Both good directions for trade, no?”

The populace of Starkhaven were a rough-looking bunch, something to be expected of people who lived off the not-always-hospitable land. They favoured leather, fur and practical fabrics as choice for wear and while the majority were human there were a surprising number of dwarfs and even a few qunari (or tal'vashoth, as Sten might call them). The absence of elves and visibility of Asleena’s armour meant that the party drew more than a few passing glances, some curious, most not at all friendly, but the insignia on Duncan’s shield appeared to do the trick of warning people off.

Through it all, Asleena kept her senses alert. She could feel Sindel’s corruption easily enough, but nothing from the nearby lodges. Perhaps Alistair was further afield, or in the tower.

“Anything?” Zevran asked quietly, noticing her preoccupation.

“Nothing close by,” Asleena replied. “But I think there’s something in the tower. I can sense Taint up there. I’m too far away to be sure….it doesn’t feel like him.” She looked up and concentrated, trying to understand the Grey Warden senses she’d never truly been trained how to use. “I think…” she said slowly, “there are other Grey Wardens here.”

This was verified when they made it to the base of the Circle Tower and were approached by one of the helmeted Templars guarding the gates.

“Good morning, Grey Warden,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and bowing at the waist. “I was not made aware any more of you were coming. Your brethren are already upstairs, preparing for some ritual the mages are helping with.”

“A Joining?” Asleena asked, returning the bow.

“Yes, for three recruits picked up in the west.”

“I have two more potentials with me,” Asleena said. “Can we please be admitted to attend the ritual?”

“I will have to call for some of my fellows to escort you,” the Templar said after a brief hesitation, and what looked like a fast inspection of Sindel. “I mean no offence, Warden, but you have an apostate with you. This is for the Circle’s protection.”

Seeing no real harm in it and not wanting to miss the Joining by starting an argument, Asleena agreed.

“That hound of yours will have to stay outside,” the Templar added. “And the horses can’t be left here. There is a stable that way.” He pointed west.

“I will see to it,” Zevran volunteered. “I doubt the Grey Wardens will want me to witness their secret rites, hm?”

“Thanks, Zev.” Asleena crouched down to eye level with Ferrix. “As for you,” she said, ruffling the mabari’s ears then rubbing his neck, “I’m trusting you to keep Zevran out of trouble. No letting him go off with strange women or men, understand?”

Ferrix barked and Zevran said, “Your concern for my well-being brings tears to my eyes. If you would be so kind as to hold the reins of my horse for a moment?” She did so, and he turned to the Dalish.

“So, my friends, good luck up there. I will say a prayer to the Maker that all goes well.”

“I hope we see each other again soon, Zevran,” Sindel said, bestowing a smile that lit her pale face. “It has been a pleasure.”

“Indeed it has, fair Keeper,” Zevran agreed, taking one of her hands to kiss the fingers, and grinning as he did so.

“When you are done making free with my betrothed…” Galahan said with a mock-sigh, and then he and Zevran were clasping wrists. “Be well, lethallan.”

“Bonne niviati, as we say in Antiva.”

Zevran backed away, took both horses and watched as Starkhaven’s ponderous gates swung open, allowing two Templars egress.

“See you soon,” Asleena said to Zevran.

“I will see if I can find anything of Alistair while waiting,” he promised, and she nodded her thanks, then led Galahan and Sindel into the Circle Tower with the Templars in attendance. Once the gates had closed he looked down at the patient Ferrix, who wagged his tail. “Let us find that stable, hm?”

It wasn’t hard. After a few minutes of walking in the direction the Templar had indicated, the sounds and smells of livestock became all too apparent. The hostler in charge didn’t seem to care that Zevran was an elf so long as he could pay for the stalls he wanted, and the next hour passed with the not altogether unpleasant chores of removing tack, brushing the horses down and looking to their water and feed. When this was done, Zevran clicked his tongue for Ferrix to heel and started out.

Then paused, turning to stare at the silver Orlesian mare standing in another stall.

Taelin’s horse. He was positive, but there was no reason for Roja Irrenill to have come to Starkhaven.

“Roja who?” the groom said when Zevran asked, and he shook his head at the description given. “That fine beast belongs to an Antivan, sure, but no one said anything about a House of Irrenill.”

“Did they say where they were from?” Zevran asked, smiling in a friendly way. “I am a countryman, in case you can’t tell.”

“Hmph.” The man lifted both shoulders in a shrug. “Can’t say I remember…no, wait one second,” he added as several silvers made their way from Zevran’s purse to his hand. “There were three of them, two elves and a human, and they were seen coming up north from the Wildervale.”

Zevran flipped him two more coins. “When did they arrive?”

“Three days ago by my count,” the hostler said, buffing one of the silvers on his sleeve, “and I haven’t heard anything of them since. If you see them around, tell them I only hold animals for a week before selling them or having them turned into sausages.”

“And if you see them,” Zevran said, twirling one more coin around his fingers and smiling, “don’t mention me. I want to surprise them.”

Once outside, he and Ferrix made swift passage back towards the Circle Tower. The Crows were here! Of course they’d known Zevran would turn up at Starkhaven—this was where Alistair had been headed. And of course they hadn’t returned to Antiva with Roja Irrenill…a botched political wedding where the prospective bride had been killed and Zevran was still at large? The guild would have their heads for returning home after such a disaster, even if it had been orchestrated by Xai.

Xai…who told me the Crows were still plotting against my life. He pointed out Taelin’s horse to me. He made sure I looked at it.

He knew I’d recognise it when I saw it again…

“Smug, crafty bastard,” he muttered under his breath.

Zevran should have anticipated retaliation for leaving Crows alive at his back, but he hadn’t, not once he and Asleena had won free of Markham City. Now the assassins were here, well entrenched by this time, they almost certainly knew where Alistair was, and they’d devised Maker only knew what plan.

There were only three of them, but they’d had a very good master.

When he reached Starkhaven’s gates, he went straight up to the Templars and said, “I need a message delivered to the Grey Warden Asleena. It’s urgent.”

**

Starkhaven’s Circle Tower was very different to Ferelden’s Kinloch Hold. It felt much older, archaic even, and while it had been furnished and decorated with all manner of things to convey a comfortable, modern feel, it was all overlaid by a sense of ancient history. When Asleena asked who the building had been constructed by, neither Templar could answer her. As far as the Circle was concerned, Starkhaven predated the arrival of humans to Thedas.

Neither Galahan nor Sindel joined the conversation, both walking silently and close together. They didn’t seem to like being surrounded by stone walls and not being able to see the sky, but they tried to walk proudly and hide their wariness.

Unlike Kinloch Hold, Starkhaven was mercifully free of abominations. Asleena had never set foot in Ferelden’s tower before the trouble had started, so she hadn’t quite known what to expect in terms of normality. Morrigan had always gone on about it being nothing short of a prison for mages, while Wynne (who’d actually lived there) had called it home. It didn’t look…bad. As the party was led through floor after floor, ever ascending, she saw apprentices in training or giggling as they ran from one class to another, there were the recognised mages who had survived the mysterious Harrowing and now furthered their art, the senior mages who passed on their knowledge and guidance to the young…

…and the Templars, always watching.

Mostly they watched Sindel in her elven robes, but she ignored them with admirable calm.

It took five flights of stairs before they reached the Harrowing Chamber, where the Grey Wardens were to perform the Joining. One of the Templar guards knocked and the arched door was opened by a pleasant-faced man wearing chain armour and a sword at his belt. His blue eyes instantly fixed on Asleena and he blinked in surprise.

“Come in, Sister,” he said, stepping back.

Four more pairs of Grey Warden eyes examined her as she and the elves entered the room, as well as those of the three recruits. Only one of the whole group was female, an elven Warden with braided red hair and silverite plate armour. All the others were men and human bar one, an elven recruit with Dalish tattoos.

Not quite knowing what to say, Asleena bowed to the room in general and went for an introduction. “I am Asleena, Warden Commander of Ferelden. I bring two recruits to the Grey: Galahan and Sindel of the Dalish clans.” Both elves genuflected in unison.

“I am Zaria,” the elven woman replied, bowing with one hand to her heart and the other outstretched at her side, “Senior Warden of Tantervale. My companions are Darshan, Trav, Maark and Oscar. Our recruits are Osen of Tantervale, Revas of the Dalish clans and Beyson of Solas. Might I say, Warden Commander Asleena,” Zaria finished with a curious smile, “you seem rather far from home. I rather thought Ferelden would have plenty of darkspawn left to keep you busy.”

“Orlais is assisting with that,” Asleena said. “I came to the Free Marches following the trail of Alistair, another Warden from Ferelden. Has he been here?”

“If he has, we haven’t seen him,” Zaria said with a glance at her fellow Wardens. “We arrived only recently to re-arm and perform the Joining before continuing east into the Green Dales. We received word of darkspawn nests in the forests, but they have been popping up all along the river since the archdemon was killed. Nice work, by the way.”

“Loghain struck the killing blow.”

The Senior Warden raised her brows. “Loghain Mac Tir? The general who quit the field at Ostagar then accused our order of the betrayal?”

“Yes,” Asleena said quietly, refusing to look away from the other woman’s eyes.

Zaria let the silence hang for a moment beyond what felt comfortable, then said, “Perhaps there is some justice there.”

“And the nest in the Green Dales has been taken care of,” Sindel put in. Every eye turned to her, but she lifted her chin. “There are still some roaming darkspawn, but the source was dealt with. Asleena killed the broodmother, and Alistair helped flood the nest.”

Zaria remained looking at the former Keeper, a slight frown creasing her brow. “We can make room for two more at the Joining, Sister,” she said at last, looking to Asleena. “The mages have almost finished preparing the lyrium. You should all be told now,” she went on, speaking to the five recruits, “that the Joining can result in death. Once it begins there is no turning back or changing your mind. You must proceed.

“Are you prepared to become Grey Wardens?”

There was a chorus of assent from those gathered.

Zaria nodded to the Warden who had opened the door. “Oscar, please find First Enchanter Jarvel and tell him we are ready.”

[Phoenix Swordsinger]

Oh Oh Oh!!!!!!

[Suemoo]

I read this whole story so far in a night and I am mightily impressed!

I often find myself wondering idilly what would have happened long-term to the characters of Dragon Age depending on the different desicions made at the Landsmeet. I really struggled with killing/sparing Loghain desicion, I thought that making him a Grey Warden would have been apt form of justice but I couldn't live with the outcome of my beloved Alistair throwing a hissy, nearly getting excecuted by the Queen and becomming a drunk- so off with Loghain's head ot was!



This story is made of 100% awesome. I look forward to the next installment with baited breath.

[master-fluff]

Oh noes, another cliffhanger ! I sense an emotional rollercoaster ahead...

[Shadow of Light Dragon]

Thanks guys

Part 35 - The Joining

The Harrowing Chamber was completely silent while the group waited, each man or woman lost in their own thoughts. Only Galahan and Sindel stood together, each grasping the other’s hand, but they too remained unspeaking. Asleena found herself glancing around the room, her eyes lingering on this feature or that as she unconsciously sought to distract herself from what was to come, and stopped when she realised she was doing it. Warden Commanders probably weren’t supposed to fidget. She stared at the middle of the floor instead, where the smooth stone tiles patterned outwards in a spiral design.

In a matter of minutes, Oscar returned with a large silver chalice held between both hands. The door to the Harrowing Chamber was locked behind him and he crossed the silent floor to pass his burden to Zaria. Asleena saw the interior of the cup very briefly as the young Warden passed her, and seeing the almost-black ruby liquid rippling within the confines of that silvered curve sent a chill of memory coursing down her spine and a burning sensation up the back of her throat.

“During the first Blight,” Zaria said into the hush, “when our ancestors stood on the brink of destruction, the Grey Wardens were founded. An order of men and women dedicated to fighting the darkspawn, and giving their lives to that end.

“Our immunity to the taint, our strength and our sacrifice comes from the very creatures we strive against. To master the taint within ourselves,” she lifted the chalice a fraction, “we must first drink of it. To this you are called to submit for the greater good.”

“Darkspawn blood?” Osen, one of the recruits said with wide eyes. “We have to drink darkspawn blood?”

None of the recruits looked particularly pleased at this idea, not even Galahan, but none more so than Sindel. The former Keeper’s dark-circled eyes were wide, lips parted on a single unvoiced word: “No.”

“None of you would have been allowed here unless we were sure you had a chance of survival,” Zaria said. “Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to be what we are, but it is for the protection of all.”

Movement caught Asleena’s eye…Sindel had pulled her hand free of Galahan’s and was backing away from Zaria and the chalice. “No,” she said, aloud this time.

“Sindel,” Galahan said quietly, reaching for her, but she only retreated further.

Zaria’s eyes rested on the Dalish woman. “There is no turning back.”

“No,” Sindel repeated. “I already drank their blood and worse. They forced me! I…I can’t…I won’t!” Horrified, beseeching eyes turned to Asleena. “Please don’t make me do this, lethallin. Not again!”

It felt like the bottom had dropped out of her stomach. Why, why hadn’t she foreseen this moment? Asleena tried to take a calming step towards Sindel but the other woman kept her distance…and now a tension rippled through the room as the other Wardens came on guard.

“You have to,” Asleena said, feeling a sudden fear begin to pound in her heart. She remembered, with painful clarity, what had happened to Ser Jory when he’d tried to back out of the Joining at Ostagar. “If you don’t, you’ll die or worse. Sindel, the corruption already in you—“

“No!” Sindel’s face hardened. The hairs on the back of Asleena’s neck stood on end, her Templar training hissing a warning as the Dalish woman drew upon the Fade.

“Don’t do this,” she began, but then there was a flurry of motion as Galahan spun, bow leaping to his hand and a hawk-fletched arrow drawn tight against the string, its point aimed straight at the Warden nearest his betrothed…who had pulled a dagger from his belt.

“Drop it,” the elf ordered with a tightly controlled voice, but while the Warden made no further move he did not obey.

Zaria herself did not shift position, the chalice still held between her palms, but her startled recruits pulled back out of the way as two more of her Wardens drew swords and a third wound back his crossbow in a calm, almost detached manner that made Asleena’s blood run cold. Stone armour flashed across Sindel’s skin and Galahan was backing towards her, deliberately putting his body in the path of Darshan’s crossbow while simultaneously trying to keep the three bladesmen in his sights.

“I don’t want to kill anyone here,” Galahan said, his eyes flickering briefly to Asleena, “but she will not fall before I do.”

The crossbow lifted and pointed at him even as Galahan’s ultimatum caused Sindel to hesitate. Darshan sighted along his weapon, but it was hardly necessary…Galahan stood still, a perfect target, the muscles of his arms clearly defined as he kept his powerful bow drawn.

Asleena was moving into the line of fire before she realised what she was doing, Duncan’s shield lifted to protect Galahan against the Grey Wardens. “Lower that thing,” she commanded Darshan, then swept the rest of the room with her gaze. “All of you, lower your weapons!”

“Are you proposing we let them go…Warden Commander?” Zaria asked.

“No, I’m proposing your friends drop their damn weapons!” Asleena shouted, her free hand clenching into a fist and her voice bouncing angrily against the stone walls. “Maker’s breath…she hasn’t done anything yet.”

“She’s a mage, is she not?” Zaria pointed out. “If she does do something, I’m fairly sure we’ll all regret it a great deal. I have a duty to perform, and so do you.”

“I do,” Asleena agreed. She unstrapped the shield from her arm and let it fall with a steely ring of metal on stone. “So give that cup to me.”

The Senior Warden’s eyes searched hers, narrowing, then she nodded and passed the chalice into Asleena’s waiting hands. The Ferelden woman glanced down into the dark swirling liquid, took a breath to steady herself and approached her Dalish friends. Around the room, stances relaxed but faces remained cautious. Only Revas, Zaria’s Dalish recruit, looked particularly torn over the situation.

“This is not the same as what happened in the earthwound,” Asleena said firmly, looking at Sindel’s mutinous face over Galahan’s shoulder. “The blood has been treated with lyrium, and it will do one of two things: kill you or make you a Grey Warden. It won’t make you a ghoul, it won’t make you a broodmother, it won’t make you anything else. If you die, I’ll carry you home like I promised. If you live, it will be over. You’ll feel better. I swear it.” She paused. “If you refuse to drink…you will both die. And I’m sure you don’t want that,” she added, giving a pointed glance to Galahan then returning her gaze to Sindel.

“You’d let them kill us?” Sindel whispered.

Asleena lowered her eyes. “I don’t want to.”

And no…I don’t think I could. Not if it came down to it. I’d want to let you go and pray for the best, I’d want to defend you…but at the same time I don’t know if I could draw my sword against other Wardens.

Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place. Perhaps this just goes to show I’m not cut out for the responsibility of command. I can’t do ‘whatever it takes’. I’m not Duncan…and a part of me hopes I never will be.

Aware that the Grey Wardens were paying just as close attention as the elves, Asleena avoided a direct answer to Sindel’s question by glancing up again and saying, “I don’t want them to kill either of you, but sooner or later someone would have to go after you, Sindel. The corruption will keep spreading and if you don’t simply go mad and die you will become dangerous. You couldn’t go home. You could infect others...people you care about, innocent strangers.”

“Beloved,” Galahan murmured, “we knew it would come to this.”

“I know. I…” Sindel took a shaking breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know there would be drinking darkspawn blood involved. You could have warned me,” she said quietly in Asleena’s direction, a reproachful look in her face.

“I didn’t think,” Asleena said in apology. “But all things considered…would you have agreed to the Joining if I’d told you?”

Sindel’s attention fell on the chalice. “Will it hurt?”

Asleena hesitated, but nodded reluctantly. “Yes. It will. I’m sorry.”

Sindel stared at the chalice like it was an executioner’s axe, tears sliding down her pallid cheeks, and Galahan said, “Might I make a request? Pour us each a portion into two separate cups.” He looked back at Sindel. “We can drink together.”

At the former Keeper’s slow nod, Asleena called for and was presented with two empty flasks. Setting the chalice down on the floor, she dipped each container into the wide bowl of the cup to fill them appropriately, wiped the glass sides clean, then handed one each to Galahan and Sindel.

“Are you ready?”

The two elves faced one another. Galahan extended a hand to smooth the tears from his betrothed’s face, lifted her chin and kissed her. Just once.

“With you I hunt,” he said quietly, looking only at her, “under the sun and the star, the leaves and the shade. With you I run, the earth guiding our feet, the wind giving us wings.”

The hunter’s voice had taken on certain cadence, as though he was speaking a formula he had practiced many times in the past. On the other side of the room, Zaria’s Dalish recruit bowed his head.

“With you I fly,” Sindel replied, her voice still uneven, but steadying as she gazed up at Galahan. She ran trembling fingers across one side of his face and through his golden hair. “Lifted over soil and stream, mountain and cloud. With you I climb, never to fall, ever striving to touch the vaults of the sky.”

There was a shimmer of moisture in Galahan’s eyes now. He smiled, nodded, drew breath, and then the two elves spoke as one:

“With you I love, blessed by the Creators to dwell in joy, and to know the comfort of a true heart.

“With you I live.

”Ma’vhena.”

Each lifted a flask to their lips, hesitated for the barest breath of time with eyes locked, then drank the darkspawn blood.

“Join us, brothers and sisters,” Zaria intoned as the Dalish couple staggered and dropped the glass vials, the first brush of the taint reaching them. Galahan groped for Sindel and she wrapped her arms around him as he enfolded her.

“Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn.” Ribs creaked as the embrace tightened and heads snapped up, eyes rolling back so that only the whites showed and mouths opening in mute cries of agony.

“And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten…” They fell to the tiled floor together. There was a crystalline splintering sound as the flasks were broken beneath them and ground into the stone. Writhing in each other’s grasp, they collapsed.

“…and that one day,” Zaria finished, her calm tone not faltering as the two elves lay unmoving, “we shall join you.”

Asleena let out the breath she’d been holding and crouched quickly near her friends, stretching her hands out towards their throats to feel for the beat of life, but she stopped short of her goal. Inhaling sharply, she pulled her arms back to her sides and stared at the two of them. She could feel them. The pulse of tainted blood was rapid and weak, but it was present in each prone body.

Seeing Galahan’s eyes crack open to find her bending over him, Asleena couldn’t stop the relieved smile that spread across her face. Someone else might have said something enigmatic or solemn to mark the occasion of their becoming Grey Wardens, but she could only say the first words that came to her:

“You made it. You both did.”

Galahan made no reply. He held his wife closer to his heart and shut his eyes again, silent tears falling into her black hair.

[Gilgamesh1138]

Oh Shadow, I finally caught up, and I cried as they pledged to one another before the joining. And the the oath of the Grey always gets me too, "join us brothers and sisters..." Damn I need to buy more tissues! Fantastic writing. You are my hero, I think of you when I am writing my own chapters.



Oh, and your Zev, so yummy! : D

[Phoenix Swordsinger]

They both lived. Yeah!

[Shadow of Light Dragon]

Part 36 - The Crows Circle

The last thing Zevran wanted to do, now that he knew the Crows were circling Starkhaven, was to stay in one place. Even though the front gates of the Circle Tower with its Templar guardians might feel like a safe location, his instincts wanted him to keep moving. At the same time, he wasn’t stupid enough to go looking for trouble. The scattered villages were not a city; they didn’t have interconnecting rooftops to run across or sewers to flee through. They didn’t even have handy little back alleys and twisting backstreets a man could conveniently slip into and disappear.

He compromised by keeping close to the tower and circling its perimeter with Ferrix. He would have liked to have looked for Alistair as he’d told Asleena he would, but wherever the ex-Templar was it was almost certain a Crow would be keeping watch. As good as Zevran thought himself to be, he was smart enough to know when to lie low.

There was a stone walkway that went around the circumference of the Circle Tower. It was narrow, barely wide enough for two abreast, and it was on this that Zevran and Ferrix walked until they reached the western side of the structure. Here the walkway was elevated above ground level by at least ten feet, and it dropped away into a fork of the Minanter River. It almost looked like the tower itself was splitting the flow of the water; for it came in from the west, surged up to the rocky foundations of the crag Starkhaven rose from, then diverted north and south.

Zevran admired the view for a little while, enjoying the cool mist of spray that was carried up from the river by the wind, then noticed a solitary helmeted Templar guard patrolling his way and decided to continue walking.

It occurred to him then, as he and the guard angled their bodies to pass one another on the walkway, the Templar close to the wall and Zevran on the outer edge, that full uniform armour could be a very effective disguise.

This realisation came as the Templar moved, a Crow dagger sliding quietly from one arm brace into his gloved hand and stabbing towards Zevran’s heart. Unable to jump backwards without risking an uncertain landing, Zevran barely managed to lunge to one side and grab at his attacker’s arm in an attempt to avoid serious injury, but he still felt the hot slice of metal cutting across his ribs…coupled with the numbing chill of a strong poison that brought him to his knees.

“The Antivan Crows send their regards…traitor.”

Through the stupefying fog of chemicals stunning his mind, Zevran could only vaguely make out the sound of Ferrix snarling and the dark blur of him launching his body against the fake Templar, bearing him backwards and forcing him to defend himself in the unaccustomed weight of armour rather than finish his target off. Zevran struggled to stand, one hand pushing at the stone while the other groped for the hilt of any blade he could find, but then he was grasping at the metal-clad fist closing around his throat.

This time the dagger sank into his belly.

“Any last words?” the man asked coldly, his voice hollow behind the Templar helmet.

Zevran managed a chuckle and took a firmer grip on his attacker’s wrist. “Do you know how hard it is to swim in full plate?” he rasped.

And pushed backwards.

The sky and archaic tower spun dizzyingly above. Hair and cloth flapped briefly in the air as everything hung suspended, timeless. The blade in Zevran’s stomach came free with a wrench of pain…it lifted, steel and blood glinting as sunlight struck, but the river hit them first and sucked both men down.

Zevran grabbed at the arm with the blade and tore at the fingers digging into his throat. He didn’t bother trying to strike—it would have been a waste of time through plate and with the weight of the river hampering momentum. His goal for survival was simple: avoid further damage and get free…the river would kill his foe fast enough. But as though resigned to his fate that he would indeed drown, the Crow-Templar seemed determined to take Zevran down with him. When his hand finally slipped from the elf’s neck it seized the thick belt crossing his chest and dragged him even deeper into the black cold.

His lungs started to burn. He hadn’t been able to draw a proper breath from the get-go. There was a painful throbbing in his abdomen, and bright spots started to dance in front of his eyes in the liquid gloom. Zevran gave up trying to pry the fingers from his shoulder belt and pulled a dagger to shear desperately through the leather strap. It gave, taking his sword with it, and he let go of the man’s other wrist to let him sink to the bottom, white Templar armour gleaming ghost-like even down here.

It was odd how the memory played tricks when the body was struggling not to die. Zevran had almost drowned once, some time ago back in Antiva City—knocked out of a window during a fierce battle, only to be fished from the river by some urchins who’d been more interested in liberating his possessions than seeing if their owner still drew breath.

He hoped they wouldn’t steal his boots this time. He really was quite fond of them.

Streamers of wavering light filtered down from above and he kicked towards them, fingers reaching, but his legs felt leaden and his chest burned with effort. He choked once and water trickled down his windpipe.

So. Here I am. An inglorious end, no?

If this was an epic adventure of legend instead of reality, he’d be rescued.

And resuscitated by the heroine, who would weep tears of joy at his deliverance then clasp him to her bosom.

Zevren felt a weak grin touch his lips…then he floated, one arm still stretched towards the sun.

**

“You might have to do it, one day,” Zaria said.

“Maybe.”

The Harrowing Chamber was empty but for them. The other Wardens had helped or carried the new recruits from the room some time ago. The new recruits…and one elven corpse. Revas had not survived the Joining. Asleena stared dully at the silver chalice she had passed him, the poison that had taken his life.

We all do our share of killing around here, don’t we?

She rubbed a hand over her face.

“I’ve been a Warden for twenty-six years now,” Zaria said, shifting position a little. She sat cross-legged on the floor like Asleena did, the Joining cup between them. “It gets easier. After a while you see the taint take so many lives it just doesn’t bother you so much anymore.” She didn’t say it in a way that was meant to sound comforting, rather matter-of-factly.

“I don’t know if I want to be like that,” Asleena replied. “You make it sound like…emotion…compassion…gets worn away. Like water on stone.”

“It does for a lot of us. One can hardly go through things like this regularly without developing a certain numbness to it all, and finding ways to avoid emotional distress.” Zaria glanced at the chalice. “Most of us learn very early on not to become close to recruits before the Joining, for instance. Most of us learn the hard way,” she added softly when Asleena began to frown at the perceived rebuke.

Silence fell, then was broken by a tentative tap at the door.

“Come in,” Zaria called, and a young mage entered the room. He glanced around the Harrowing Chamber with an uneasy expression, then approached the two Wardens.

“I was asked to carry a message up here for the Grey Warden Asleena?” he said, looking between the two women and holding up a scroll.

“That’s me. Thanks.” Asleena took the missive and unrolled it to read:

‘The Crows from Markham are in Starkhaven and have been for three days. Unknown if Xai is here. They must have travelled direct while we went to the Green Dales. Expecting trouble.’

“What’s wrong?” Zaria asked when Asleena stood up.

“Assassins. Loghain set up a contract with the Antivan Crows to try and kill the Grey Wardens who survived Ostagar,” Asleena explained. “They ambushed us, failed, and the one survivor, Zevran, joined us when we spared his life. The Crows have been trying to off him since then. He’s here in Starkhaven, outside, and he’s just warned me that some of his former colleagues are here too.”

“How do you know this Zevran can be trusted?” Zaria asked, standing.

Asleena smiled. There were too many reasons, so she picked one a Grey Warden veteran would appreciate. “He stood by my side against the archdemon, for one thing.” She waved the parchment and started for the door. “I better get down there. The Crows caused a great deal of trouble for us in Markham City.”

“If you need assistance, Sister, you know where we are.” Zaria bowed. “When your recruits recover, where should I send them? Or should they remain here?”

“They probably won’t want to stay indoors,” Asleena said. “Tell them to wait at the stables if I’m not right outside the tower. Oh, and thanks…for letting us barge in on your Joining.”

“It was interesting, certainly,” Zaria replied with a small smile. “Travel well, Asleena. And might I say…I am glad your friends survived this day. I pray you are always so fortunate.”

**

Something was licking his face and whimpering.

Zevran groaned, gagged, then hurriedly rolled over before throwing up an unhealthy amount of the Minanter River.

“Good boy,” he croaked to Ferrix, who was now bounding excitedly around him, dripping and yapping in equal measure. “I must admit I was hoping to be saved by someone with longer legs, but the licking was a nice touch.”

He glanced around groggily, trying to get his bearings. The Circle Tower was clearly visible to the north above the trees, but no cabins appeared to be nearby. The river was lapping at his boots and he lay stomach down on the earthy bank, minus his sword and another dagger. Ferrix had deep scratches on his muzzle and shoulders, but for the moment looked incredibly pleased with himself that Zevran was alive.

“Yes, yes,” the assassin said, chuckling as the mabari ducked his head in close and huffed anxiously. “I owe you one, my friend. Now would you mind going off to find Asleena or Sindel? I still seem to be bleeding a fair bit, and I’d like to stop doing that. It makes a dreadful mess and I get all dizzy after a while.”

Ferrix barked and tore off in the direction of the tower, leaving Zevran to sit up and press his hand against the sluggishly seeping wound in his belly.

“You have more lives than a sodding cat, Zevran Arainai,” a feminine, Antivan-accented voice remarked.

Zevran’s hand moved reflexively towards his right boot in which a blade was strapped, but he stopped when two elven assassins emerged from the trees, one of whom had a bow trained on him.

“What can I say?” he replied, trying for a smile. “Someone up there likes me.” He coughed then, spitting up more water. “Or not. It is not so easy to tell right now.”

“Kill him before that mongrel brings the Grey Wardens down on our heads,” the other elf, a dark-haired tattooed man said.

“It’s funny you should mention them,” Zevran said, thinking fast and deciding to lie for all he was worth. “Did you know, had the Crows ever taken the time to approach me in secret about my botched contract rather than constantly trying to kill me, they might have learned I had not, in fact, gone rogue?”

“Nice try,” the woman said, keeping her bow on him. “If you were still a Crow you could have pleaded your case to Taliesen instead of helping the Wardens kill him.”

“You heard about that, hm? Unfortunately for Taliesen, he made the same mistake I did when I first tried to lay ambush for my marks: he thought a straight fight would win the day.” Zevran chuckled self-deprecatingly. “If I sided with him I would be dead right now, for I doubt the Wardens would have spared me a second time. No, my friends,” he went on, keeping control of the conversation, sounding calm and trying to buy time for himself, “when I survived that first fight I took the path I should have seen from the start and began to earn their trust. They already had an Orlesian bard in their ranks, an apostate mage from the Wilds and a self-confessed murderer of the qunari, so why not an Antivan assassin?

“These Grey Wardens, Alistair and Asleena in particular…they place great store in loyalty. Once it is earned you can get close enough to kill them, and I have gone to great lengths to achieve this. They trust me. You heard Asleena say so in Markham City, no?”

“Then why are they still alive?” the man challenged.

Zevran gave him a scathing look. “Well, the one obvious reason is that I need witnesses—a team. If I returned to Antiva claiming the contract was fulfilled after my initial failure, who would believe me? But now that you two are here…would you like to know exactly how much gold Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir and Arl Rendon Howe sank into this job?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Bind his arms,” she told her frowning companion. “Search him for weapons and bring him. We will discuss this elsewhere, and kill him if he’s unconvincing.”

Zevran chuckled low in his throat and gave her a very deliberate smile that had served him well in the past. “My dear…if I am unconvincing you can do whatever you wish with me. If we are going to do this, however, I must ask one thing.”

“And that is?”

“Before we kill the lovely Asleena Cousland,” Zevran said, smiling wider and half-closing his eyes, “you allow me to kiss her goodbye.”

[viento2]

omg, I just found this story and it`s absolutely wonderful!!!!

Can`t wait for the next chapter. But I got a bad feeling: Please, don`t let Zev die!!!!!! Let him get Asleena!!

[Phoenix Swordsinger]

Oh Asleena, please don't doubt Zevran! Hurry Ferix, Hurry!

[Wicked_Loki]

I'm looking forward to the next chapter, I really enjoy your writing style.

[Shadow of Light Dragon]

Thanks guys. I'm sorry the latest chapter's been so long coming...long week and it's Mother's Day over here today so I'm going out for a pic-a-nic. Hopefully I will still get it up by tonight.