I thought it would be ages before I got a dragon age fic out, and yet the power of amazing party banter is powerful indeed. So far all my DA:O fics are set in the universe of my first Warden. Fem!Dale, rogue. Lover of Alistair the former king, and sole Ferelden Grey Warden survivor of the fifth blight. Also somewhat in a relationship with everyone's favorite Antivan Crow.

Anyways enough on my Warden as she isn't even in this fic. No this fic is about my favorite DA crack pairing. Anyways Rated T for how squicky some fans might find this pairing. BE WARNED!

"Zevran, what are you doing here?" Wynne didn't have to turn around, there was only ever one person who sauntered into a room quite the same way the elf did. He instantly took up room in any space and Wynn had spent too much time learning to avoid him to misinterpret who had just walked into the room now.

"Why simply saying hello to my most favorite mage in all of Ferelden." The elf leaned against the door frame of the study. "Though I never expected you to end up back here, I would have thought that after escaping the circle you wouldn't want to return."

"I didn't escape," Wynne sighed and still with her back to the crow, "I left to serve my country during the blight. With permission from the Templars and the first enchanter; but while we're on the subject didn't you 'escape' from the crows? Word had it you went back to Antiva, so I reiterate what are you doing here?" Now Wynne had turned around to glare at the elf.

"Ah, that is true. I left our fair Ferelden in order to hunt down my old companions. Now don't give me any stern looks, they were trying to kill me. I, was merely defended myself," Zevran pressed the back of his hand against his forehead and swooned overdramatically, "But I returned, to search you out my dear Wynne."

"I see you haven't changed much, you're still unable to have a serious conversation. However I doubt you're reasoning very much, surely I am not the sole reason for your return. I figured it must have something to do with our fair warden. Though it would seem the rumors that she had journeyed to Antiva to help you track down your assassins was greatly inaccurate."

"Tis true." Zevran confessed, nodding solemnly. "That was part of the reason for my return, but when I arrived Ifound that the champion of Ferelden seemed to have left Ferelden altogether. Who would have thought it so hard to track down a grey warden, the one who stopped the blight at that? No my good, Wynne after I found that she could not be located I chose to search you out instead. I wasn't in any hurry to return to Antiva, too many people want to kill me there, and you were the only other person in our little army that I enjoyed spending time with."

Wynne crossed her arms, and locked her jaw, her wooden staff clutched in her right hand.

"Let's say for a moment, that I am glad to see you, overjoyed in fact. Let's say that this is a new Wynne, one who happens to be made of putty ready for you to mold. What would you have us do?"

Zevran cocked his head to the left and raised an eyebrow.

"I am wounded you even have to ask. Naturally I would try to bed this new Wynne." Wynne scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Short of that I'd at least ask to rest my head in her still magical bosom."

"I was right. You haven't changed a bit." Wynne turned away from him, scooped some tomes up from a bookshelf to her left and stormed out of the room. Zevran quickly jumped out the way, then jogged after her.

"Come now, I just complimented you. It's been a few years and still you're as perky as ever. I've said it before, but I know women half your age that fate has been cruel to. In the bosom area." Wynne let out a growl and jerked her staff in his direction. Suddenly the elf was thrown against a stone wall. The mage was fuming and yet he flashed her, a charming smile.

"So I should be grateful that you happen to think that for my old age I am still 'perky?' Maker's breath Zevran I am old enough to be your grandmother!"

"And yet, you have me backed against a wall. If that's not suggestive I don-"

"Why must you bother me? Surely you can find another woman to bother. How about the Warden, I'm sure she would love your help right now."

Much to the mage's surprise Zevran seemed to shrink, he slumped his shoulder and lowered his gaze, and even his irritating grin was gone. A rather tense moment passed before Wynne sighed and gestured for him to follow her. She led him through several corridors before ducking into an abandoned room. It was the sleeping quarters for a group of apprentices; bunk beds were spread out evenly around the room as well as few chests and personal belongings. Zevran immediately hefted himself onto the top bunk of a bed. Wynne leaned against the bedframe.

"Now I'm not going to ask what happ-"There was a rustle of paper and the elf pressed an opened envelope into her hands. Wynne stopped suddenly and opened the envelope to find a folded letter. The letter was written in the Warden's sloped cursive.

Greetings Zevran,

I wish I could say the same thing; things here in vigil's keep are more… complicated than we first expected. I saw something I thought I'd never see, a talking darkspawn. I know how much it will be painful for you to hear this, and yet I cannot bring myself to lie to you. When I first heard the rumors of such a beast existing I felt a sprig of hope spring up in me, it was foolish and naïve, but I couldn't stop the thought that crossed my mind. Alistair. How could I not hope? Surely if females who succumbed to the blight could be turned into broodmothers perhaps a male warden who slew an archdemon could become possessed by their darkness. It was childish and full of nothing but selfishness but I will not deny that the thought crossed my mind.

You will not want to hear this, but I met someone who reminds me of Alistair. It has been a chore to keep myself from simply breaking down in his presence. I can see a darker nature in him than was ever in Alistair as if his whole soul calls out for vengeance. But when he is not ranting about the Templars I find it hard to even be within his presence. Six months and I still find myself grieving. I'm still remembering it, how can I not remember it? How could any of us forget? I still remember it as if time itself slowed to watch my greatest tragedy. The way I was simply to slow to stop him as she charged sword barred towards the fallen dragon, the way I was simply to slow to stop the light that burst forth from the great beast to envelope him and spirit him away from the world. The way I had been to slow to show him what I had with me, his first gift to me. A rose, still fresh as when he picked it, I was too slow to tell him I forgave him. Yes Zevran I blame myself, laugh at me if you wish but that does not change the fact that I could have stopped him.

Most of all I remember you approaching me, the way you wrapped your arms around me, how you never left my side though I was unresponsive. How long did I rock there on the fort's battlements, with your arms around me? Zevran it was in those minutes that I came to realize how much I care for you. It is for that reason that once I am done here I will attempt to seek you out. Not straight away however, I must first find a way to bury my grief. I must find a way to forget Alistair. I must in order to give you all the love you deserve. Until then, do not search me out. I must face this on my own.

Mindori.

Wynne sighed and closed her eyes. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Andraste's grace, Zevran you can't-"

"Forgive me for not answering your question, but let me ask you something. Are you still being sustained by the 'spirit'?"

Wynne instantly got a suspicious look on her face.

"Yes… why?"

Zevran proceeded with caution, Wynne could see him hesitating. Finally he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

"And how much more power does this spirit of yours have?"

He nimbly jumped off the bed.

"Very little" Wynne looked towards the floor; she spoke softly and closed her eyes.

"Then answer me this. Why do you continue to deny yourself any type of pleasure? If you could literally drop dead at any moment, why waste any time you have left?"

Without warning Zevran was one more thrown against the wall. Wynne had a furious expression on her face, she prowled towards him until she was standing just in front of him. When once she was a bit taller than him, age had only shrunken her more. Wynne glared at the elf for a moment and just as Zevran was beginning to fidget she pressed her lips to his. His reaction was almost instant, he parted his own jaw to follow her as her lips parted. She found that her hands were tangling themselves in his long blond hair, her pointer finger's caressing the point of his ears. His own hands had found a place in the small of her back. Slowly, as if he was hesitating, Zevran slid his hands further down. Wynne smiled and brought the elf closer. Slowly at first, Zevran began to experiment as if testing how far he could push her, from time to time his tongue would snake into her open mouth. Then as if finally deciding to throw caution to the wind the elf began to passionately kiss her, he began to tug on her lower lip with his teeth, then would quickly switch to hungrily swallowing her entire mouth in his own. Surprisingly enough it was Zevran who pulled away first.

"You've had experience." He commented before pressing his mouth to her jaw line. Wynne considered remind him that she had once borne a son, but decided against it. One of Zevran's hands left her backside and cupped one of her breasts. Wynne found herself arching into him, her pelvis pressed into his. He was pressed even more roughly into the wall, but only chuckled as his lips continued their painfully slow path up her jawline. At time he would simply kiss her, others she could feel him sucking at her skin. Never once did he bite her however, much to Wynne's surprise. The mage was continuing to play with his hair, now finding herself to be a slight bit above him, she kissed the crown of his head. Her finger's tangled themselves into his blond locks. One hand reached behind him and his spine. His lithe figure emblazoned in her mind. She could tell he was holding himself back, and Wynne was going to see how long it took him to break. She slowly lowered a hand towards his buttock, and cupped one of the firm cheeks. Zevran hardly seemed to react, only his kissing becoming hungrier. Wynne let a small smile a light upon her features and gently began sliding her hand around his hips until it rested on the slight bulge in his pants. This caused the elf to pause, then he twitched under her touch and a slow, longing moan escaped him. It was his turn to arch into her and she gently squeezed him. Both his hands were on her breasts now. His breathing was rapid and shallow. They both gently massaged each other, attempting to squeeze a more drastic reaction out of each other. Zevran broke first; he removed a hand from her bosoms and moved to unbuckle the metal clasp on his belt. That was Wynne broke free.

"I hope that has more than satisfied your curiosity." Wynne smiled coyly as Zevran stopped. A hurt look flashed upon his face but was quickly replaced with his normal charming grin. "I also hope you will now take your leave."

"You, my dear Wynne, are a tease. Very well, but I will wait our next meeting with baited breath. I will pray to the Maker that what you gave me was simply a preview from what will come." With that he took his leave. Wynne watched him go, not even realising she was holding her breath. His comment should have irked her but the aged mage had to admit that what she had experienced intrigued her, and she would also enjoy discovering more about the elf. Should they ever meet again.

- I can't write without ending it on a more tragic note, there will not be any more to this story as in my head there was no time between these events and the events of Asunder in which either of them will meet again.

Thanks for reading. If you could critique I would love you forever!