A/N: Let's just say it took longer that ~40 hours~ to defeat the Blight…
BioWare own everything! I'm just playing in their dragon and darkspawn-filled sandbox.
"Join me?" Zevran the Antivan Crow called from the centre of the lake and nodded his head towards the waterfall behind him. Behind his back he had his fingers crossed hoping the Grey Warden would agree. Maker, he craved for close to a year to get a glimpse at the lean torso that no doubt dwelled underneath that leather armour of the leader of their rag-tag group of 'heroes' and what she must look like with relaxing water running away the stress and grief that often strained the Warden's features.
When the words sunk through the initial shock of what Zevran was asking of her, The Warden's eyes widened and she bit the inside of her cheek nervously.
The pair had been friends for years, the Antivan Crow knew almost everything about her, they could talk for hours on end about anything and she had always felt completely comfortable being around Zevran (even if he was a sneaky assassin) and trusted him more than any of her other companions but… to agree to being so exposed to another, to be without her armour she'd be so vulnerable – like a lamb headed for slaughter.
She couldn't will the words off her tongue to make her protest so The Warden just crossed her arms defensively and shook her head.
"…but it's hot and you've been traveling all day, dismembering Darkspawn and such, yes?" the assassin tried, clearly one would want to wash off the stench of the Darkspawn would they not? And this is a fun way of doing just that. "The water is quite cool and very much relaxing my friend"
"So?" The Warden rose a dark brow, not seeing how either of those points would make her change her mind on the matter.
A spark of something resembling guilt fluttered in her gut when she saw the Antivan Crow's shoulders slump and his head bowed slightly in defeat. She had unintentionally chipped at his ego. She briefly battled with the idea of joining him but keeping her undershirt and pants on to cover her pale scarred skin. She shook the thought from her head and with a sigh she headed back towards camp to relax by the fire.
Zevran watched her go, a frown forming on his face. He was used to women jumping at the chance to join him all skin under a waterfall. But this noble, the last remaining Cousland from Highever a family that held a strong belief towards The Maker had been raised to keep her body from the eyes of another man of whom she was not in a steady relationship with.
As one of the two remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden her top priority was to save the world from an Archdemon and not be distracted by the assassin's charm. If they survived the Blight and she somehow learned how to kick her timidness and self-loathing in the teeth maybe she'd be able to open up enough to believe in the possibility that the Antivan elf cared for her as more than a friend.
Damn Warden with all her morals, beliefs and lack of self-confidence. All work and no play is going to destroy her and if the Archdemon takes her from me I will be destroyed to.
I pray it doesn't come to that….