Zevran jumped off of the body of an ogre he'd just killed, hearing Allistar's war cry. Though he knew the ex-templar was near enough, it seemed as though all sounds were distant. He saw the Hurlock General and called out that that was the primary target. As he ran toward the enemy, he realized he was alone. He looked behind and saw Allistar lay dead, his lifeblood pooling around him. Morrigan was casting a spell on the General. Zevran began to call out to her that a genlock was running behind her, but too late. Morrigan fell to her knees as the darkspawn sword sliced into her shoulder, slicing her jugular. Frantically, Zevran looked for the warden. Relief flooded him as he saw her auburn hair, decorated with beads. Relief was quickly replaced with panic, however, when he saw that the General had turned his attention to her. Zevran ran to assist, but could ultimately only watch as the two exchanged blows. The General fell, dead, but the warden was not without injury. She staggered backward, dropping her daggers and touching her middle. Zevran ran to her and caught her as she fell, holding her, feeling her lifeblood flow freely over his legs. All sounds were distant to his ears, but her whisper was clear. "I...love...you..."

Zevran sat bolt upright, sweat dampening his hair and trickling down his skin. His breathing was ragged, his heart still beating wildly from his dream. Twas only a dream he thought. And yet...it had been so real. He buckled his leather armor on and went outside, looking around camp. There was the warden, bent over the fire, staring into the flames. The moon was yet high, no trace of sunrise. Everyone else was asleep. Zevran walked to the fire, crouching before it. He too stared into the depths of the flames, memorizing them instead of remembering his dream.

"It's late. Or early. Why are you up?" The warden's voice was smooth and cool as cream, despite how it could spit venom at anyone who irritated her.

"Tis the best time, my dear." Zevran was surprised at how hoarse he sounded.

The warden grunted, inclining her head. "For sleeping and thinking, maybe."

Zevran smirked, thinking of several other things that this was the perfect time for, most of which involved rope. He was about to vocalize these thoughts when the warden stood. He stood as well, looking at her.

"You're pale, Zev. And you're sweating. Don't fight the battles in your sleep: we fight them tomorrow." The warden was being almost cold, as though she had had another vision, yet there was a flicker of what could be concern in her eyes. Perhaps there was something else.

Zevran suddenly lost all his thoughts of bedding the warden as he looked into her eyes. That look...Zevran remembered suddenly his dream. I love you. She had died.

Something must have shown in Zevran's eyes to the warden because she was closer to him almost instantly, looking deeply into his eyes. Zevran was barely aware of how he was shaking; he only knew that he could hold her as she died in the battle that was sure to come sooner rather than later. The warden gently touched his cheek, her eyes widening. "Maker! Zevran, what in-come on." She gently led him to her own tent, closing the flap behind them. She faced him and quickly began undoing his armor.

"Ah, already to this, are we?" The remark was half-hearted, though. Zevran was beginning to feel increasingly horrible. Flashes of the dream kept making themselves known, and he hardly noticed when he was being eased down onto the warden's bedroll and covered up. She herself laid beside him, her lean, beautiful body encircling him. Her scent was overwhelming, enveloping his senses. As he began to pass into sleep, Zevran spoke in a hoarse, almost whispering voice. "I will protect you."

Once more, exploring Zevran's softer side!