03.08.2015 - Edited:
With a help of amazing Pitkat I've started to edit old chapters to improve them both grammaticaly and plotwise. I'm going to mark edited chapters :) And check out her Copper Lantern! It's an amazing read.
The mud had a foul taste. His head throbbed like it was about to explode too. Yet both sensations were not something one expected in the throws of death. Perhaps that meant he was not dead at all. The man heaved himself onto his elbows gingerly.
His eyes fell on a pair of leather boots, situated just mere centimeters from his nose. Looking up, a surprisingly pleasant view met him. A pair of wiry thighs emerged from under a leather skirt, and then the rest of his former mark stared down at him with an inscrutable expression. Zevran's stomach clenched.
Suicidal attempt aside, when faced with the actual risk of dying, Zevran's survival instincts were too strong to simply give up and let himself be killed. He was absolutely positive he was going to regret his survival very soon, however. If the Warden chose not to kill him himself and that was, horrifyingly, the best scenario he could think of at the moment the Crows would surely find him. And he was unwilling to even think of the ways in which he would be made an example.
"I…oh…" He squinted, hoping to lessen the pain. "I'd rather thought I'd wake up dead. Or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you have yet to kill me."
"I have some questions," replied the young Dalish man, his huge, grey eyes peering down at Zevran above an aquiline nose. Zevran had not noticed before how tiny the Warden truly was, even for an elf. During their battle, his opponent had emitted this aura of strength akin to the most formidable fighters. Now that he had the opportunity, he noted the man was probably half a head lower than the Antivan himself, and so slim that it was a wonder that he was not crushed by the weight of his own equipment. Still, he stood poised and calm, somehow appearing much more dangerous than a strapping fighter the Crow had come across in his past.
"Oh, so I am to be interrogated! Let me save you some time, then." The captive exclaimed, holding up a hand warily. There was nothing to gain here by keeping secrets, after all. "My name is Zevran, Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving members of the Grey Wardens. A task, which I have failed at, sadly."
"I'm rather glad you did," observed the Warden.
"I'd be glad too, were I in your shoes," Zevran chuckled, "For me, however, it sets up a rather poor precedent. Getting captured by a target seems a tad bit detrimental to one's budding assassin career, you see."
The Dalish man's expression remained blank and Zevran internally cursed. The face of the elf – Tavaris Mahariel, if Zevran remembered correctly – wasn't telling him much. In contrast, the second Warden, with his look filled with disdain, was easy to read as an open book. No help there, that was for sure.
"Why are you telling me this?" The Dalish man finally asked. The assassin raised his brows, still hoping for a small opening, something that could tell him how to play the elf. Obviously, the young man was making all of the decisions. Even lying in the mud, Zevran was amused by the notion of an elf ordering humans.
"Why shouldn't I?" He asked flippantly, "I wasn't paid for my silence – not that I offered it for sale, precisely."
Big, grey eyes widened then, and the Dalish Warden asked, "Aren't you at least loyal to your employer?"
The Antivan finally understood. The Dalish man was not so much guarded; rather he trying to decipher some completely alien language, reacting only when he finally caught the meaning.
"Loyalty is an interesting concept," Zevran returned with a charismatic smile. He did not strike Zevran as an unintelligent man. Instead, he wondered if the elf left his clan only recently, so sheltered from the outside world, "If you wish, and you're done with interrogating me, we could discuss it further."
"I'm listening," he conceded. The assassin watched him for a moment longer, before he made his decision. Under the somber exterior of the Warden he sensed a tenderness that might be his saving grace.
The assassin took a long breath and sigh, "Well, as I have failed in my task of killing you, my life is forfeit. The Crows will kill me now – that's how it works. And the thing is, I like living and you, on the other hand, are obviously the sort to give the Crows the pause. So let me serve you, instead."
There was a flicker in Mahariel's eyes, before he queried,"Is this the kind of loyalty I might expect, if I agreed?"
"I happen to be a very loyal fellow!" Zevran assured quickly, grasping desperately at the given strand of hope, "Up to the point when someone expects me to die for failing… That's not a fault, really, is it? I mean, unless you are the sort, who would do the same thing, n which case I don't come highly recommended, I suppose."
Was it shock, that odd thing that flashed on another elf's face? The Crow could not really tell. But the next question was actually sensible. And promising.
"And why would I want your services?"
"Oh, I am skilled at many things," Zevran offered, "Weapons, stealth, lockpickingI could warn you if the Crows attempted anything again. I also know a great many jokes, welve massage techniques, six different card games. I'd do wonderfully at parties, no?" his expression turned lurid then, as he could not help himself from adding, "And should you ever have need for any other kind of more… sophisticated services? You'd find no one more discreet and subtle than I." He pursed his lips in mock thought, "And if not,I could simply mend your armor, if that's what you desire."
He'd gladly go into further details of these "sophisticated services" if the Warden asked, but he decided that it would be better not to push his luck. Fereldans were quite prude about sex, he discovered, and the assassin was unsure where the Dalish stood on the subject.
He could not help the disappointment when the elf only asked what he would want in return. No curiosity. Really? Still, two women beyond Warden were gorgeous enough to keep him occupied for a while. Or one, as the brunette mage, while absolutely stunning, sent a glare that instantly cooled his libido.
"Oh, being allowed to live would be nice, I guess. And it would make me slightly more useful to you too. Of course, when you have no further use of me, I'd like to go my way too, yes?"
After a moment, the Dalish man reached for the assassin's hand and helped him onto his feet. The pull of his arm was surprisingly strong, considering the elf's build, but observing the bow secured over his shoulder almost as high as the archer himself, Zevran reminded himself not to be so shocked. Great strength was required to draw something like that; something the Antivan was uncertain he could even do.
"What?" The other Warden interjected, appalled, "Are we taking the assassin with us now? Does it really seem like a good idea?"
"We could use him, Alistair," the elf deadpanned. Zevran saw now that the Warden was quite young. Shockingly so. The assassin thought himself rather blooming, given his thirty-two years. Yet Mahariel was at least ten years younger ,barely out of the childhood. He was no expert on the Dalish culture and customs, but something awful must have happened if Mahariel's Keeper chose to let him leave the clan so early.
Still holding the young man's hand, Zevran bowed his head andfisted his free hand to his heart, "I hereby pledge my loyalty to you, until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation. This I swear."
"Great! "Alistair growled, "Should we need a sign to show we are so desperate, it just came by and kicked us in the face."
The archer glanced back toward Zevran in mild consternation, "Even if he wouldn't be useful, I wouldn't let the man be killed just because he failed to kill me."
The mage chose to speak, an amused tone echoing within her words, "I was going to say that it is a fine plan to keep the assassin, Tavaris, but were we not just in battle?"
The young man blushed slightly, causing Zevran to grin wickedly despite himself. Tavaris coolly replied, "Morrigan, it's one thing to die while fighting, another to be killed because of it."
Morrigan hummed in resignation, "Do what you wish, butI'd watch my food carefully from now one, were I you."
"That is excellent advice for anyone!" Zevran added, realizing only now that he was still holding the Warden's hand. He let it drop hastily, slightly confused.
"Well, it's a good thing to have an Antivan Crow fighting with us," The second woman nodded. She was much plainer than Morrigan, but still pretty easy on the eyes.
"Oh, so there's another companion-to-be! I didn't know that such a loveliness existed between adventures!"
She furrowed her brow.
"Or perhaps not."