There was fighting. I could hear the singing of metal through the brick walls. It wasn't the first time I'd heard the clash of blades coming from the main room, but my captor returns alive every time. I have never seen her face, but her light Antivan accent caused a trickle of dread to run up my spine every time she purred into my ear.

She never had any questions whenever she hurt me. It just seemed like whenever she was bored, she would find new, inventive ways to torture me, as if I was an experimental subject to see what worked best. At the risk of sounding arrogant, I knew I was far too important for that to be true. She was trying to break me.

At the moment, my wrists with chained to the ceilings with my toes barely reaching the floor. I couldn't feel my arms and the cuffs were cutting into my skin. As always, there was a canvas sack over my head, secured tightly with rope around my neck. Just tight enough to remind me it was there.

My captor keeps telling me something that doesn't make sense. She said once I behaved, she would send word. The only thing I could imagine was that she was sending ransom to Ferelden, but I wasn't sure who would come for me. Most of my friends went off into the world after the battle of Denerim. They would be impossible to find or wouldn't be able to afford it. There was always Anora, but despite saving her country, I was not one of her people and she had no obligation towards my wellbeing.

I was captured on my way to Weisshaupt. The Wardens' had finally requested my presence and I was all too happy to get the chance to leave Feralden for a while. It had been hard adjusting to life after the Blight was over. My clan was in the Free Marches, all of my friends had their own agenda and goals, and I was totally and utterly alone for the first time in my life. Alistair was the only one I had seen since the war ended. He was helping restore the Wardens, but we were both so busy that visits were few.

I was fading in and out of consciousness, but I did recognize the sound of a battle ending. My toes scraped the stone ground absent-mindedly as I hung there. My mind was elsewhere, unable to comprehend basic sense. I was already cracking from the torture. That much I could tell.

My body dangled as I heard the secret entrance my room open. The area outside my prison was almost a mansion, but I barely had a chance to see it before the brought me in here and attached the sack to my head. It was opulent with silk lined furniture and gold encased heirlooms. In the sitting room, a bookcase hid the entrance to my cell. It wasn't hard to see if you knew where to look.

I waited for her voice.

I waited for my body to break.

For it to involuntarily give in.

"Well, my dear Warden, this a good look on you."

This accent flowed like music.

Hands wrapped around my wrists. There was fiddling with the lock and loud cursing. The warm presence left for a moment, exiting into the main room before returning. A key clicked in the lock, freeing my right wrist.

I hung from the other, powerless. My legs refused to work, to hold me up after being useless for being so long. My left wrist was released. Two hands caught me before I fell, gently lowering me to the ground. The stone felt cold and wet against my knees.

The rope around my neck was tugged at, but didn't loosen. I heard a knife being drawn and instinctively pulled away from the sound. The hands held me still, the voice whispering soothes into my ear. The rope around my neck was sliced carefully without nicking my skin.

The hood was removed and I saw who knelt beside me. Kind hazel eyes stared down on me. I looked up, my sight restored for the first time in weeks. The room I was in hadn't changed since the first I saw it. Completely stone with chains hanging from ceilings. Spikes jutted out from the walls that I was all too familiar with.

I looked up at who held me. Black lines clouded my vision. I felt an underlying anger in my stomach that I couldn't identify at the moment. It curdled in my body, making me frown deeply before my eyes completely blacked out.

I woke on hard floor. There was a blanket separating me from the wood floor, but that was it. I groaned, trying to lift my arms to rub the sleep from my eyes, but was unsuccessful. My arms refused to move despite my best motivation.

Summoning all my willpower, I forced my eyes to open. The ceiling sloped angularly, making the one of the wooden walls shorter than the other. There was no furniture in the room, but a man was sitting on the floor next to me.

It was Zevran. He was exactly a foot away from me, rather than the usual hundreds of miles. He was wearing black armor that covered more of him than normal. Dark leather was wrapped around his ankles to his neck. It was an unusual look for him as he was normally quite free with his body. His eyes closed, almost peacefully. It looked like he was asleep, but I knew better.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I said, my voice hoarse, but still cutting.

Zevran smirked, his eyes still closed, "I think a better question, Ruth, is why are you in Antiva?"

My limbs felt heavy and useless, but I struggled and I was able to push myself up into a sitting position. Zevran's eyes opened as I pulled myself up. He didn't help, but that was smart on his part. I was still furious with him.

"Honest, Zev, I wasn't even sure I was in Antiva," I replied, bare of emotion. The room was small, most likely a temporary hideout. There was a small bundle of bread sitting beside Zervan and a jug of water. Following my eyes, he handed me the jug. I took the jug, pulling out the cork. The water hurt my throat, but I drank anyways, relishing the taste of untainted liquid.

"Why were you in in Analissa house?" Zevran asked, staring at the wood walls in front of him.

"Who the fuck is Analissa?" I said, but I was sure it was the Antivan woman who tortured me for weeks. Zevran remained quiet, waiting for me to continue speaking. I took another slip of water. "I was going to Weisshaupt. I was ambushed. Then I was here. For weeks, I believe."

"I apologize that I could not get here sooner, warden."

I studied his face. He did not look up to meet my eyes, but down at his sheathed daggers. "They said they were going to send word once I behaved. I didn't understand what they meant. Did they mean they were luring you?"

Zevran risked a glance at me, "I had no idea that you were there, Ruth. I was simply going after a target. But I assume that they were talking about me. I have been going after Crow masters and they could have been using you as bait.

I shifted uncomfortable on the floor, quietly testing my muscles to see which ones worked. Not many did, but all groaned in pain as I flexed. My ribs, both wrists, my upper right arm, and my right leg was bandaged tighter. I could see blood seeping through the leg bandage, but nothing seemed life-threatening.

"Wow." I snorted. The room we were in was only a couple feet longer than I was. It wouldn't surprise me if we were in a closet at a tavern or stable. "So you just happened upon me?"

"Yes, quite lucky, I must admit."

I glared at him. Zevran looked back at me coolly. He knew I was still mad at him. I didn't even have to say a word for him to realize how angry I still was. He was doing his best to not aggravate me any farther, but it wasn't working. His very presence caused my hair to stand on end.

"I trust your injuries are doing better?" He ventured sheepishly.

"There are other things for you to focus on besides me. Do those." I mimicked his words from almost a year ago. I could still hear them ring through my head and relive the pain that wallowed deep in my gut. My eyes narrowed on him. He finally broke underneath my gaze, looking away and running a hand through his hair.

"Look, mi amor—"

"Don't you fucking call me that, Zevran," I said flatly, cutting him off.

"Fine, Ruth, I ju—"

"Don't call me that either!"

Zevran looked exasperated and crossed his arms. He stared me down, the ghost of a smirk on his face. "Okay, my deadly sex goddess."

Pain exploded in my wrist as I punched Zevran squarely in the nose. I immediately felt the extent of my body's fatigue as my every nerve shook. Zevran hadn't even flinched. I was very aware of the fact that he could have stopped me in the state I was in.

I leaned against the wall, facing him. He rubbed his nose. I hadn't been able to hit him hard enough to do damage. "Well, are you done acting like a crusty nug?"

"Maybe," I replied. I did feel less angry than before. He must have planned on that.

We sat in silence for a moment, staring at each other. He looked tired. I wasn't sure how long I was out for so it was possible he stayed up all night, making sure I was still breathing. My heart softened for him, if only for a moment. The quiet seemed to drag on. Comfortable, but filled with unspoken words.

"You left me, asshole." I said, the crack in my voice only barely sounding due to great effort on my part. "You told me you wanted to stay with me, even after the Blight was over, and then you left."

The stuffy room flooded with tension. Zevran kept his face a blank mask, "I didn't think you cared."

An instant fury seized my body. I struck out at him again, not caring that his leather armor protected him from my blows. He seized my wrist, looking at me with a question on his face. His warm skin my mine raised a tremble down my spine.

"I'm not letting you get any more free hits in. You'll have to work for it," He said, his voice almost teasing as I snatched my hand away.

The look I gave him instantly put down his jest. "You got to be shitting me, Zevran. Why the hell would you think I didn't care about you? Why did you make promises, then treat me as if I was nothing more than dirt under your precious leather boots?"

His face curled, showing deep lines in his forehead. "What are you talking about? I never treated you badly. I always respected you and I always gave you what you wanted."

I rolled my eyes at him, annoyed. "Yes, while we were fucking, you were great. You made grand promises of staying by my side after the war, but one day, I come to you and you tell me to get lost. Then after Denerim, you completely disappeared without a word. That's not respect, Zevran."

Zevran looked uncomfortable and cast his eyes downward, "I was doing what I thought was for the best."

"The best for who?" I snapped, leaning forward and getting closer to him. "Because when I realized you were gone, really gone, I felt like all of Thedas was collapsing around me."

Zevran looked shocked for a split second before composing his features. Very slowly, he reached out his broad hand, reaching for mine. I flinched away. He paused, looking at my face as if asking permission, before taking my hand in his. He brought my hand to his lips kissing every finger, gently. It took a lot for me to keep from melting into a puddle. I stoked the fire of fury in my belly by reminding myself he had never given me a real explanation for why he left me after the Battle of Denerim.

As if reading my mind, he spoke. "Mi amor, I was terrified. Petrified that I was falling in love with you. When I made the promise to stay by your side, I thought I was just having fun with you. My heart began to dance at your every touch, every word, and I was afraid of those feelings. So I ran."

"I don't understand. Why didn't you just talk to me?"

Zevran traced the scar ran along my forearm, "I had convinced myself that you wouldn't want me after I had rejected you. I was no one and you had just been dubbed the Hero of Fereldan." He pressed his lips together before speaking again, "I am truly sorry, mi amor. I lay awake every night, thinking of you, your lips, your touch. I regretted pushing you away the very moment I did it."

I was still angry. But his words had soothed some of the pain that had boiled in my heart for so long and his beautiful accent was like a salve over the wounds that he had cut into me. He leaned forward, caressing my cheek.

"Do you still love me?" I murmured, entranced by his touch. I allowed him to pull me a little closer.

"Yes, mi amor. I could never stop."

He leaned forward, kissing me gently, quenching any anger that I had been holding on to so tightly. I fell into him, wrapping my hands into his hair. His lips roamed down my jawline and my necklace. I fell into his kisses, crawling into his lap and straddling him, despite my aching muscles.

Zevran paused, the twinkle in his eyes returned as he looked me up and down. "Are you still mad at me, dear warden?"

"Fucking furious." I responded flatly and he laughed out loud.

"Well, mi amor, I hear that hate fucking is quite enjoyable."