The party camp was filled with the pungent smell of Alistair's lamb and pea stew. He hovered over the pot with a look of extreme concentration on his face, wooden spoon gripped in one hand, shaker of salt in the other. Lana crouched beside him, eyeing the grayish congealed mass dubiously, nose wrinkled delicately. Several minutes before Lana had woken from a nap with a gasp, clutching the blankets in closed fists, her face pale under the tattoo. Now they spoke in hushed tones by the fire, Alistair peering around the camp every few minutes nervously.
Zevran only caught snippets of their conversation, but enough to know that the Wardens had shared a dream about the Archdemon. He doubted the blighted thing would swoop down upon their little group now, when it had an army to lead. The elf shrugged his shoulders and went back to packing his bag.
All around the camp, preparations were being made for Alistair's stew. That is, everyone was digging surreptitiously through knapsacks and tents for something, anything, to eat that didn't come from the big warrior's pot. There were more than a few glances at Morrigan's little encampment, where she had made no effort to hide the little feast she was preparing for herself. These glances were all met with a hot yellow glare that sent anyone who wandered too close or looked too interested scurrying back to the main fire. The only one pleased with the situation was Harel, Lana's mabari. On such nights his belly was very full when he went to bed from all the bowls that made their way to the ground.
Zevran had his own plan of escape. On their travels his light fingers managed to pilfer a surprising quantity of food. Unbeknownst to the others, his tent was a regular stockpile of fine cheeses, wines, smoked meats, and fresh fruits. On nights like tonight, when the big human was in charge of the cooking, the assassin would quietly slip out of camp and find a quiet grove in which to eat. Tonight was different however. Tonight he was bringing Lana.
While skilled at both love-making and death-dealing, the Antivan had little skill at wooing. He was surprised that he even wanted to woo Lana, but he did, more than anything. Everything had changed after that night in the Dalish camp. She had just looked so vulnerable that night; he couldn't have stayed away from her if he tried. And she had been…amazing. Zevran couldn't stop thinking about her, couldn't stop thinking about how hard it had been to resist trembling as he guided her hand over his body. Couldn't stop thinking about twisting his hands through her mahogany hair, the taste of her against his tongue. All his life he had taken the advice of the Crows: take your pleasures when you can. This was something entirely different, and entirely terrifying to him.
In any case, his plan was to rescue Lana from lamb and pea stew. He supposed feeding someone palatable food counted as wooing? He'd need a plan though; Lana was much too polite to blatantly abandon her fellow Warden.
Getting up, he glided over to Shale, whom as always stood motionless in the shadow of the trees. The golem watched him with narrowed eyes as he approached.
"Shale my stony friend! How would you feel about doing me a favor?"
Shale shifted, with the sound of boulders sliding down a mountain. "I would assume this has to do with the painted elf following It about all day, and sneaking into It's tent at night." Her hollow voice seemed to echo in her chest, the tone wry.
"Err…well, it does have to do with Lana, yes. Perhaps you have noticed that Alistair is cooking dinner tonight?"
"Hmm, indeed. How unfortunate that you weak, squishy creatures require frequent intake of food to survive."
Zevran glanced over at the fire. Alistair was putting the finishing touches on his stew. Time was short. "Yes, and it's especially unfortunate when the cooking is as bad as Alistiar's. I've managed to procure some more pleasing options that I was hoping to share with Lana."
The golem looked suspicious. "The painted elf tried to kill It once before no? How do I know the painted elf will not try again?"
"Ah, Shale. If I had wanted to kill our lovely Warden, I could have done so a dozen times before now. As it is, I have no such desire to do so now. Other desires…much more pressing have my attention. You see -". He was cut off by the rapid protests of the golem.
"Bah! Be silent! I have no wish to hear of the painted elf's disgusting exploits. Tell me what it wants and begone! Otherwise I shall squish it like all the other crows I meet."
Several minutes later Lana turned to the sound of Shale's massive footsteps.
She had been mentally preparing herself for lamb and peas. Gods, she'd rather have tea with that abomination they'd found in the Deep Roads than choke down another mouthful of the stuff. She would though; poor Alistair always looked near tears when someone turned down his stew. And as much as he followed her around like an annoying love-sick puppy, she couldn't bear to see him so disappointed. Her tactic was to eat the stuff as fast as possible and as hot as possible in an attempt to cauterize her taste buds and not give them a chance to recover.
"Yes, Shale?" The golem's appearance was a welcome distraction.
Shale looked around shiftily. "May I speak with It?" she said. "In private?"
Lana suppressed her surprise. "Er…certainly," she said, and followed the golem over to the edge of the clearing.
Alistair called after her. "Waiiit! Where are you going? Dinner is ready!"
She gave him a reassuring wave and turned to Shale. "What did you want to discuss?"
Shale leaned in conspiratorially. "Does It see the trail here?" She was hardly moving her mouth.
Lana looked. Sure enough, a narrow deer track wound into the forest a few feet from where they were standing.
"Yes, I see it. What's this about?"
"Follow the trail if It doesn't want to be spewing liquids from various bodily orifices for several days."
Lana winced. "Are you talking about Alistair's stew?"
The golem looked increasingly aggravated. "Will It please just go?"
The elf crossed her arms. "Shale I'm going to go traipsing down some path in the middle of the night! What do you want me to see?"
The sigh Shale let loose was one of the largest Lana had heard to date. "Well I've had enough of this. The painted elf awaits It at the end of the path. It can now pretend It was surprised because It was too thick-headed to just do as I said." With those final words she stomped off toward the fire.
Without hesitation now, Lana plunged into the shadows, Alistair's plaintive wail of "But who's going to eat my stewww?" following her into the darkness.
Zevran was hiding in the trees when Lana burst into the clearing. He watched her take in the meadow and the quiet stream that burbled to one side, all bathed silver in the moonlight. Her movements in the wild were deer-like, full of grace and delicacy. She cautiously approached the blanket he had spread, took note of the pack of food, then stood as if unsure of what to do without him.
He snuck up on her then, wrapping his hands around her narrow waist and whispering, "Here I am" into the curve of her ear. Lana jumped and squealed, then turned in his arms as she shrieked with laughter. He grinned too, her joy was infectious, but then shushed her with his fingers on her lips. "We are not so far from camp that they cannot hear us if we are too loud." She quieted, and he secretly thrilled at the fact that she made no move to leave his arms.
"Oh, Zevran," she breathed, gazing about. "This place is beautiful. I can't believe I've never been here before!"
He was tracing her collarbones with his fingers. "Yes, well we generally have better things to be doing than exploring the woods. Like killing darkspawn. Or seducing you."
She punched him lightly on the arm. "I was not seduced!" she demanded. Her stomach growled loudly then, interrupting whatever she had been about to say.
Zevran laughed softly and took her hand, leading her over to the blanket. "What ever you say my dear." He settled down and began pulling various items from his pack. A bottle of fine wine, salted pork, Halla cheese, a crusty loaf of bread, and several apples.
"Gods, you're a lifesaver Zev." Lana said, grabbing an apple and taking a bite. Zevran watched in frozen fascination as the juice dripped down her chin. She didn't notice however, and merely wiped it away with the back of her hand while reaching for a chunk of the cheese.
He shook his head as to free it from cobwebs, then helped himself to some of the pork. They ate in companionable silence for a time, enjoying the quiet of their makeshift camp. Zevran surreptitiously watched Lana as she ate. For one so small and lithe as she, Lana was a voracious and enthusiastic eater. She wasted no time with the first apple; it was gone in a series of huge bites. The cheese disappeared as quickly. She took the cup of wine he poured her absently, washing down the bread she was chewing. "So where did you get all this stuff anyway?"
He swirled his wine thoughtfully, propped up on one elbow. "Oh, here and there. The wine I picked up in Denerim, along with the pork. The cheese is Dalish, as I'm sure you know…I think the bread is theirs too. As for the apples…" he grinned. "I picked them out of that tree over there. There is much more in my tent, if you ever feel so inclined as to visit."
She lay back on the blanket, grinning herself. "Yes, I'm sure." Her smile faded slightly. "Zev…what will you do when this is all over?"
He put his cup aside and lay down beside her, gazing up at the stars as they twirled overhead. "I suppose I hadn't given it much thought. What do you think I should do?"
She looked mildly flustered. "Well…you could do whatever you wished. I'll have no claim of duty on you then. What do you like to do?"
"Have sex." He answered quickly. "And kill things. Mmm, speaking of sex…" Zevran rolled over, laying half on top of her.
Lana laughed as he nuzzled her neck. "Oh, fine! Change the subject if you will. But do not think I will forget this conversation!"
Zevran smiled against the soft skin below her pointed ear. "Good luck with that, for my intention is to make you forget everything."
He moved to her mouth then, her lips soft and yielding beneath his own. She tasted of wine and, faintly, apples. Her hands were kneading his biceps, tracing their contours as his hands roamed. He kissed her hotly and she arched against him, fumbling with the buckles near his shoulders.
"I've been dreaming of this," he murmured against her lips. "Of you. I wake in the morning with the taste of you on my lips and the sounds you make in my ears." He was stroking her legs, wrapping his hands around her calves and running them up her thighs, hidden beneath her armor. Zevran thought he could feel the tremor run through her at his words, and he smiled against her mouth.
She broke away with a small gasp and turned her attentions to his throat. He growled low in his throat as she sucked the hollow there. "I make no sounds," she scoffed gently. "You're just hearing yourself."
The Antivan's smile grew wicked. "Ahh we shall see how much of your repertoire I can elicit from you tonight." At that he pressed himself fully against her, pressing her into the ground. He was sure she could feel his already healthy arousal against her thigh. Sure enough, Lana's eyes widened and her lips parted to intake a small breath. Zevran grinned wider. "Exhibit A."
The glare in her eyes didn't quite reach her mouth and she returned the favor, arching her back and squirming a bit to press them even closer. It wasn't entirely comfortable, small bits of metal and leather were poking him all over. She seemed to think the same thing, and they fell upon each other's armor with fervor. The task wasn't made easier by their continued attempts to kiss, and Zevran nearly fell over while trying to remove his boot when Lana slyly cupped him though his smallclothes. But finally, blissfully, she was bare in his arms, her coppery skin made pale in the moonlight. Her hair streamed over his fingers.
Again he kissed her, worshiping her lips with teeth and tongue. They parted, and he slid his tongue into her warm and welcoming mouth. He slid his tongue against hers in a dance as old as time, and pressed even closer against her, as if trying to take all of her into himself. His hands cupped the small globes of her breasts, reveling in their softness against his rough palms and in the small noises Lana was making as she arched into his hand. Breaking away from her mouth he skimmed his nose over her jaw, nipping gently at the skin there. Her skin smelled of their adventures; the slight tang of sweat combined with woodsmoke and leather, all over her own unique smell, like skies and rain.
Oh, he could drown in it. The strength of the feeling surprised him, and he drew back slightly, but Lana would now allow this, her hands pulling at his skin insistently.
"Zev…Zev take me now." He almost smiled at this, her patience was thin tonight. His only answer was kneel between her spread legs, placing small kisses on her breasts and belly. Zevran hovered over her for a long moment, taking in the sight of her parted, swollen lips, the flush of her skin, her fingers twisted in the blanket. He pressed himself ever so gently against her opening, watching her breath hitch and the fingers twist tighter. In he pressed, a tiny amount, then withdrew. She growled in frustration, tilting her hips in an effort to find him again. He ran a hand down from her collarbone to her hip, as if trying to calm a restless horse. The hand on her hip pressed her down, preventing any advances. Yet again he pressed into her, beads of sweat forming on his brow from the effort of control. He went even further this time, but inexorably withdrew. Lana's hips bucked beneath his hand but he held her firm. Zevran didn't know how many more times he tortured her, and himself. Finally, he could bear it no longer, and pressed fully into her. The hot moisture of her walls enveloped him, quivering and flexing. He set a moderate rhythm, using her hips to pull himself deeper inside her with each thrust.
He was very rapidly losing the ability to think when a small sound made him freeze. Lana must have heard it as well; she lay still beneath him instead of protesting the sudden coitus interruptus. His own body was screaming at him with every chemical device it had to thrust, to move, to mate. He ignored it, and looked up.
The Shriek was barely visible through the trees, no more than a bulky shadow. It's large eyes caught the moonlight, giving it the appearance of a wild animal.
Zevran was off of Lana in an instant, rolling into a low crouch and seizing his knives from the pile of armor in one lithe movement. He heard Lana's smothered curse; she'd left her weapons at the main camp. She scrambled for the small dagger she kept in her boot.
"Stay behind me," Zevran ordered. If the Shriek hadn't been sure of what it had been seeing a minute before, it recognized a threat now, and screamed its bone-grating, ice-chilling yell. The darkspawn rushed them then, moving with unearthly speed. Zevran could feel Lana cringe behind him and he stepped forward to meet its advance. He feigned an attack up high but then ducked down low, under the swinging blades so close he could feel the hair lift off his neck. The twin daggers in his hands were forced up then, one slashing at the creatures stomach and the other slicing across its neck. It let out a strangled cry which bubbled to nothing as the lifeblood squirted, black and hot, from its neck. Zevran jerked back as the blood touched him. With armor he almost never noticed it, but now it was sluicing hotly down his chest, hot and sticky. He gagged at the smell.
Lana was crouched naked on the blanket, more vulnerable than he had ever seen her. "Are you all right?" he quickly asked her. She nodded shakily, and allowed him to help her to her feet.
There had been only one Shriek in their little clearing, but the sounds of battle coming from the camp indicated that the brunt of the attack lay there. The pair hastily jerked on tunics and leggings and leaving their armor ran off toward camp together.
Most of the creatures lay dead when they arrived. Lana immediately headed for her tent and weapons, Zevran following behind. He could feel her confidence swell once she had her long knives in hand, and had to run to catch her as she dashed off toward a group of darkspawn that were hassling Leliana. Coming up behind one, he watched as she drove her knife into its spine, then finished it off with a slice low in the belly. The air sizzled with heat as the next Shriek was enveloped in Morrigan's lightning spell. It felt as if all the hairs on his body were standing on end.
There was finally only one of the creatures left, and this one, Zevran thought, behaved oddly. It cowered away from the group, dodging attacks but not returning them. Lana approached it in frustration, intending to finish it off when she froze.
Zevran came up behind her. "What is it?"
She seemed not to hear, but stood, fixated on the creature before her, eyes wide.
"…Tamlen?"
A cliffhanger a the end of a oneshot? Yeah, I'm a jerk. This story was ready to be done though, I've been piddling away on this for some time now. I'll probably do a follow-up eventually.
It was nice to kill some Shrieks though...I absolutely hate them in-game, this was rather cathartic. :)
And finally, I don't own DragonAge or any of its characters.