He had not understood. Kallian would accept his advances, even flirt back at times, but the closer he tried to get to her physically the more she shut down. He had been training her in the way of an assassin and during one particularly vigorous session she had bested him and pinned him to the ground.
" Bravo." he complemented and then watched as her eyes caught sight of his lips as he formed the word. Her smile faded and he could feel her blade slide away from his throat as her face closed the distance. She was kissing him fervently and a thrill rushed through his body. Something he hadn't felt since he was a young boy... since Rinna... since...
He turned them over and cupped a hand to her thigh, lifting to drape her leg over his hip. She stiffened and pulled away muttering apologies.
He laughed it off. " It's all that pumping blood and rising heat." he said emphasizing the words pumping and rising. She blushed, gathered her discarded blade and disappeared back towards the camp leaving Zevran flustered and slightly confused.
Many nights at camp he had regaled her with stories of growing up in a whorehouse. Her face held a sadness as he told her how he had been sold to the Crows and how they had raised him to kill or be killed, enjoy the moments that you could find joy because happiness was never permanent. Her eyes lit up as he described his homeland of Antiva and his love of leather. She had listened raptly as he told her of his Dalish mother and the beautiful gloves she had once possessed.
She told him of her early life in the Alienage, learning as a child to hide from the shems and then throw small stones at them when their backs were turned. She talked of her cousin, Shianni and her smile would often falter then and he noticed how she glossed over certain things leading to her meeting with Duncan. She explained how they had been betrayed by Loghain and the king and Duncan left to die on the battlefield while she and Alistair almost lost their lives in the tower fighting darkspawn only to be saved by Morrigan's mother. He could tell by the tone of her voice at times that she understood the meaning of a hard life.
After their journey through the Dalish lands she had pulled him aside into the forest one evening and handed him a small silky bundle. As he unwrapped it he could smell the unmistakable scent of leather. He had caught whiffs of it since they had left Haven but thought it just a trick of his homesick mind. But nothing could prepare him for what he pulled from the tiny bundle. Carefully tucked together among the folds of the raw silk lay a pair of authentic Antivan leather boots and a delicately embroidered pair of Dalish gloves, so much like the ones his mother had once owned.
He was so touched he was actually rendered speechless. She had smiled that beautiful half grin of hers, kissed him on the cheek and returned to the campfire without a word. He donned the boots immediately after the shock had worn off. They fit perfectly. The gloves he had tucked into a pouch under his belt which held only one other possession that he deemed worthy of keeping safe, a lone earring.
For the next few days he had been uncharacteristically quiet. He himself had hardly noticed until she mentioned it on the road the Arl's home in Denerim. He had been hanging back behind Sten when normally he would have been up front with the Wardens trying to eternally embarrass Alistair or fluster the swamp witch. He felt a wet nose nudge his hand and looked down to see Ohtar, her Mabari hound, walking beside him, it's eyes questioning.
" You seem different" came a murmur beside him and he looked over to see the curling tattoo that wound up her arm to her neck and ending in soft curves along her face that offset her warm brown eyes. " I guess we both noticed." she nodded towards Ohtar.
Zevran smiled slyly at her, " Coming to check on me?"
" Well Morrigan was commenting on your lack of lewd comments to her on this journey."
" By all means I would hate to disappoint. I can go up there and make up for lost time if she would like."
Kallian laughed and shook her head then she grew serious once more. " What's bothering you, Zev? You've been quiet... well quieter, since I..."
" No one has ever just given me a gift before, especially not one that meant so much." they were quiet for a moment and Zevran was urgent to break the tension. " I have been thinking about that wonderful kiss that we shared on the forest floor. In fact it has been the subject of many a dream. Very good dreams." he watched her cheeks flush as the sly smile returned to his lips. " I wonder if you might grace me with another taste of your lips or if it shall remain within the domain of my dreams only."
" Zev..."
" Ah... I see they were a ploy to get into my good graces and ravage me while my guard was down."
" Zev..."
" But you needn't bother my dear. You should know by now that I would bed you quite willingly and wantonly and all you have to do is ask."
" Zevran!" she had stopped walking and her cheeks were flushed a bright pink that crept down her neck and down below the breastplate covering her chest. " I thought they would make you happy! I just wanted to make you happy." she finished with a murmur and he sighed. She wasn't going to be distracted.
" I know, my dear. That's the problem." he stated as he turned to face her.
" I don't understand."
" I don't either." he double backed to her and tried to explain the best he could, but his brain was muddled with emotions he had never felt before. At least not this strongly. " The Crows teach us to take our pleasures where we can, when we can. Emotional attachments are pointless, happiness fleeting."
" Are you saying you have feelings for me, Zev?" her eyes held a slight trepidation underlined with what seemed like hope and it made his stomach flutter around his insides. Part of him wanted to feel more, part of him hated it.
" I..." he paused, then felt slight anger rise in him. " We're falling behind, my dear lady." he stated curtly, turning his back to her.
" Zev?"
He stopped and his fist clenched. Ohtar growled a soft warning deep in his throat.
" Let it go." Zevran ground out. " I can't think." and with that he stormed off to catch up with Sten. At least the qunari wouldn't ask him any questions that he couldn't answer.
At camp that night he had returned to his usual banter aimed mostly at Liliana and Morrigan, who was glowering at him from her tent. Kallian had watched him from across the fire, but had made no attempts to talk with him again. Later he saw Alistair sit beside her, their heads close in hushed conversation as was normal for them, only this time it made Zevran's insides burn. Liliana began a story about Andraste and Zevran watched from the shadows as Alistair's arm wrapped around Kallian's shoulder and he pulled her to lean against his chest as they listened to her tale. From where he stood across the fire, her eyes almost seemed slightly red, as if she had been crying moments ago. He had never known her to cry. Not even when her arm almost got ripped off by that ogre.
He had not understood why she wanted him, but yet pushed him away. Did not understand why he did the same. Standing in the cell at Fort Drakon, the dead guard's blood inching towards his leather boots, his dear Kallian sobbing and bruised in the corner as Leliana tried to console her, he understood and it made him feel sickness in the pit of his stomach.
After finding Anora, they had returned without her saying she had surrendered so that the others may go free. Zevran and Leliana volunteered to go back and break her out. They were the two best choices since Morrigan, Sten and Wynne had been with her when she had been captured. Alistair was too recognizable and Oghren... well Oghren was passed out drunk. Both Zevran and Leliana had training on infiltration and were the most likely to get in and out without raising suspicions. They had happened upon the lower jail in time to hear shouting coming from a cell whose door stood open. Zevran saw the guard atop flailing arms and legs. He saw her unmistakable tattoo that curved down her forearm and then he saw red. Literally. Pulling the man from her he turned him around so the man could see the face of his killer and then decapitated him with one quick slash of his blade. Zevran realized quickly that the guard had not achieved his goal and he thanked the Maker for the unease with which armor was removed, but the cries coming muffled from against the Chantry bard's robes told him she had had this experience before. It wasn't uncommon in Alienages where the humans looked down upon the elves as puppets in their nightmare theatre. Rage, concern, and something he couldn't quite explain was coursing through his veins as his eyes blinked back tears.
Now he understood everything.