A/N: This is a gift fic for my dear friend FenZev who was the 300th reviewer of Duty and Devotion! When I asked her for a prompt, here is what she came up with: "Thinking Zevran/Rinna need some love, something that doesn't involve the tragedy of their end, but that shows how she truly gets him. Some moment that can really shine a light on what they had." I was so excited about this prompt, because (1) I love Zevran, and (2) there were just SO many directions I could take this! I hope that you enjoy, FenZev! *hugs*
Zevran Arainai lurked in the shadows of the guildmaster's office. A scant number of candles sat on the old wooden desk in the center of the room, offering only enough light to read by. The blonde elf preferred it this way—he was in his element in the dark, and moved with quick, silent lethality when on-duty.
Tonight was different, though. Business was certainly on the menu, but pleasure? Perhaps he could sample some of that delight, as well.
The door opened silently on greased hinges, but Zevran didn't move. He knew he was invisible in the recesses of the cold room. The guildmaster had instructed him to hide, and as he entered the room, he gave no indication that he knew of the elf's presence. Behind him trooped two veteran Crows, a third hauled in between them. Zevran's lips turned up in a ghost of a smile at the young woman.
Cropped raven hair stood in stark contrast to her milk white skin—unusual coloring for one of Antivan ancestry. Her dark eyes reflected the candlelight and blazed with intelligence. Her chin was tilted upward, even though she was braced between two men much larger than she.
Zevran's brow winged up with admiration. He knew that she'd just gone through the second round of initiation, learning to take pain and bury it. He suppressed a shudder, remembering the macabre devices the dungeon masters had introduced him to—devices designed to draw out screams while leaving no marks. The female elf's brow was still creased from the ordeal, and Zevran was able to make out a tick of stress in her jaw, but otherwise she gave no indication of pain.
"Release her," the guildmaster said, his voice echoing in the cavernous chamber.
The elf jerked her arms away as soon as her guards loosened their grips. She shot thinly-veiled glares at each while rubbing her shoulders.
"Rinna," the guildmaster said. "You are not done for the evening."
Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded her assent. Though working for the Crows hadn't been her first choice of occupation, the members of the guild had been honest with her about the extensive trials she'd face were she to become one of them. From her dossier, Zevran knew that she was an orphan and had thieved what she could to survive. As she'd grown, so had her taste for greater conquests, and they'd found her only a few weeks ago in the stocks, destined for the hangman's noose after a heist gone wrong. Faced with the option of joining the Crows or death, Zevran had watched from the sidelines as she'd thrown herself into training with enthusiasm. What she lacked in formal combat training, she made up for with sheer ingenuity. From what he'd been told, Zevran understood that her ability with throwing knives was a sight to behold.
"Tonight is your last test," the guildmaster said. "You've proven yourself strong enough to pass the Dolor, and we've seen what you can do in all areas ranging from combat to stealth. If you make it past this final obstacle, we welcome you to the fold as a sister."
"I understand. I am ready." Her voice was a rich alto, and held a harsh undertone. It spoke to the screams that had ripped through.
The guildmaster pushed a scroll across the desk to her. "Your objectives."
She unrolled the vellum and her eyes danced across the script. One brow arched. "This is it?"
The master smiled sardonically, unknowingly mimicking Zevran. "You will be tailed by one of our men and evaluated."
Taking this as his cue, Zevran slid out of his hiding spot, internally reveling at the shocked expression that flashed across her face before she pushed it behind a calm mask once again. "A beautiful evening for it, is it not?"
"You will receive a ten minute head start. Zevran will follow and evaluate your progress at each of the stations listed. You must make it to the final checkpoint before dawn."
"And if I am late?"
The masters cold smile was answer enough—one that Zevran remembered well from his own trials. "It goes without saying that should you be caught, the Crows will not come to your aid again."
Her dark eyes darted to Zevran, and he was surprised to see resolve in those fathomless depths. He allowed himself a grin. Truly, this should prove an entertaining night.
"You begin now."
Zevran jogged silently through the alleys of Antiva City. The smell of rotting fish drifted up from the piers to the north, mingling with the smoky air. He smiled and increased his pace. The little minx was lighter on her feet than he, making it impossible for all but the most experienced trackers to follow her movements.
Luckily, he was the best.
Little signs of her passing were everywhere if he knew where to look: the errant splash of a puddle long idle in the stagnant air, a disturbed slide of mud down an embankment, grease on the lampposts slicked the wrong way. She'd been through here, no doubt.
Zevran crept toward the grimy hatter's shop and crouched behind a flowering bush, inhaling the heady scent of the blossoms. She was inside, and he simply needed to wait and see if she came out with her prize. Idly, he picked one of the blood red blossoms, tracing the silken petals across his lips. He tucked the flower in his belt just as the shop door creaked open and Rinna stepped out. She glanced around, a ridiculous feathered hat perched jauntily on her head, then took off at a run for her next location.
Chuckling to himself, Zevran stood. He'd had no doubt that a former thief would be able to pull off the first task, which was to pick a moderately difficult lock and steal the marked object. He admired her lithe legs from a distance for a moment before following. He was interested to see how she'd handle the next challenge: one that had foiled many a potential Crow. He smiled, wondering if this delicate flower of a thief had the stomach for it.
The Antivan Crows were not feared for nothing. They were among the most skilled thieves in Thedas, true, but the thing that kept nobles awake in their beds at night more than worry over their riches was the thought of a poisoned blade finding their skin. Assassin. Zevran loved the way the word rolled off the tongue. There was something morbidly alluring in the trade, something terribly intimate about being the harbinger of silent death.
Shaking himself from his musings, Zevran strolled confidently down three steps and into the basement of a warehouse. Rinna was already standing at the table in the center of the room, feverishly adding herbs and powders to a mortar. Zevran leaned against a wall and coughed quietly.
She froze, a bead of perspiration tracking down the thin scar on her left cheek. Narrowing her eyes at Zevran, she turned back to her task, seizing the pestle and grinding the mixture into a thick paste.
"What's on the menu tonight, querida? Is it to be instant death or lingering pain? A merciful passing or harsh awareness of one's inevitable destiny?"
Without looking at him, Rinna replied. "A recipe left to me by my father."
"Ah, I see," Zevran said archly. "And do you think it wise to be… experimenting on so important a job?" Most recruits who made it this far opted to use one of the Crows' favored mixtures.
She shot him a withering glare. "I know exactly what I'm doing, asesino."
"By all means, do not let me stop you," Zevran said, smiling at the venom she spat into his title. He pushed off the wall and stalked to the table. His nostrils flared at the scents coming from the mixture Rinna prepared. Though he was comfortable preparing an array of noxious compounds, Zevran had never utilized poisons as much as some of the others. He preferred a more personal approach. He inhaled deeply. "Hmm, let me see, now… deathroot, certainly. That is unmistakable. And nightshade, I believe?" The words caressed his tongue and he trailed a finger across Rinna's shoulders. He smiled at the raised gooseflesh he left in his wake.
"Do you mind?" she hissed. "I am on a schedule here, and I'd much prefer not to die this night."
Zevran clucked his tongue. My, but this woman has fire. "My dear Rinna," he purred, "in our line of work, we must all learn to deal with… distractions." He breathed the last word, trailing his lips down the curve of her ear. She shivered, and he grinned and pulled away.
She finished her poison and coated the tip of a small blade with it, then wrapped it in oiled cloth and tucked it back in her boot. The rest of the contents of the table were tipped into the fire, and both of them covered their faces with cloth until the rancid smoke cleared. They slipped up the stairs, both silent as death, and broke into the home of one of the minor nobles of the city.
A contract had been put out on the eldest son of the Chavarria family. What the boy had done to warrant death at the hands of the Crows was of no interest to Zevran—an order was put out, and if the money was good enough, he took it. If young Rinna was successful, she would earn part of the share. If not—Zevran clenched his hands into fists—he'd turn her blade against her before finishing the job himself. The Crows did not tolerate sloppy work, and never left loose ends. However, though he was loathe to admit it even to himself, he did not relish the idea of parting with a beauty such as this one so soon.
They ghosted through the upper rooms of the estate. She'd done well so far—her light steps seemed to float across the creaky floor, and she'd taken the lead unflinchingly. As they slipped into Santiago Chavarria's room, Rinna drew the hood of her dark cloak over her head and faded into the shadows. Zevran followed suit and stood in the opposite corner to watch her work.
She fell into a roll and stretched out underneath the bed, one hand plucking her knife out of her boot. She unraveled the cloth and flipped the blade to her other hand. The dark poison at the tip stood in contrast to the sheen of the rest of the blade. The boy had fallen asleep with one hand dangling over the edge of the bed, and Zevran nodded with approval, realizing her plan. He watched as she lay there, perfectly poised to fulfill the contract. She hesitated, and Zevran's hand twitched to his throwing knife, his heart stuttering strangely at the thought of her failing. Suddenly, with a graceful flick of her wrist, she nicked the skin underneath a fingernail. A single drop of blood fell to the floor and reflected in the moonlight before she wiped it with her cloth and re-wrapped her dagger.
Zevran held his breath, unsure of how quickly the toxins would sear their way through veins, leading the unfortunate victim to oblivion. He didn't have to wait long. A soft wheeze. A rattling exhale. Then… nothing.
A job well done, indeed.
Zevran walked over to Rinna. Her hands shook as she struggled to her knees and replaced the knife in her boot. He'd suspected that she'd not yet bloodied her hands, but the faint tremors that shook her confirmed it. He tilted her chin up with two gentle fingers. "Elegantly executed, ma querida."
She swallowed hard, and visibly worked to chase away the haunted look in her eyes. He shook his head and smiled. "My, but you are a strong one, are you not?" Not waiting for a response, he strode to the window and vaulted lightly onto the eave. "You'd best hurry if you want to make it to the last checkpoint before dawn. I will see you there." He sprinted across the tiles, not waiting for a reply.
Sticking to the shadows, Zevran streaked across the roofs toward the last meeting place. He sucked in deep breaths of cool air, reveling in the speed and freedom of the sprint. Anticipation of watching Rinna tackle the last challenge spurred his legs to even greater speeds.
Zevran climbed down into the top room of the building just as she approached the front door. His sharp eyes took in each of the obstacles in her way—some were obvious, some cunningly hidden. A glance out the window showed him the horizon already fading from inky black to purple. Soon, a glow of red would announce the dawn's arrival.
He turned his attention back to Rinna. The door was shut behind her, and her dark eyes darted around, taking in her surroundings. She stepped lightly forward, walking on her toes, carefully testing each floorboard before putting her weight down. Zevran held his breath as she approached the first trap. She tested the board that it was concealed beneath before furrowing her brow and backing up. With deft fingers, she pried the board up to reveal a thin spike that was rigged to drive through the foot of the unwary. Though none of the traps throughout the room were designed to kill, each of them would cause no small amount of pain. With a sharp snap that echoed around the room, Rinna disarmed the device. She stood and allowed herself a small smile.
Zevran nodded his approval as he paced back and forth, watching the tiny woman continue through the building. She once again showed that she had no problem with lock-picking, successfully opening the door that would bypass a rather nasty maze filled with all manner of rash-causing plants and stinking mud. Zevran shuddered delicately. He recalled a recruit from not long ago who had emerged from that cesspit moaning and wiping uselessly at the puss-filled boils that had erupted on his skin.
At long last, Rinna approached the final obstacle. The only way to the top floor of the building was to scale the climbing wall that had been constructed. There was a rope to lend some aid, but Zevran himself had cunningly knotted the rope near the top so that it would only handle so much before unravelling. The wall itself provided many hand and footholds—not all of them genuine. Zevran peered down at Rinna, her dark eyes flashing up to meet his. A crooked grin, then she began.
She started up the wall using the rope as an aid. Her dark cloak billowed behind her as she ascended speedily. Clearly, she was no stranger to climbing. Zevran narrowed his eyes as the rope began to wobble dangerously, giving her only the slightest indication that it was about to give way. He watched as her eyes widened when she realized what was happening. Her full lips tightened in concentration, and Zevran found his own muscles straining with hers, urging her to do what was needed to stay on the wall. She steadied herself with one hand on a tiny outcropping, and crouched against the wall. As soon as she let go of the rope, she pushed off of her perch hard with her legs and reached with both arms for the top ledge. Her cloak rippled behind her as she flew through the air, and her hood fell back to reveal her dark hair in disarray from the night's events.
The future Crow flies. No. She is no mere scavenger… this one is a lethal bird of prey. A falcon.
With a grunt of effort, Rinna clung to the ledge, her legs scrabbling against the wall seeking purchase. Zevran clenched his arms behind his back so as not to give into the desire to help her the rest of the way up. She needed to do it herself.
Finally, her toe found a gap in the wood and she was able to strain over the edge and onto the floor at Zevran's feet. She rolled onto her back, sweat beaded on her brow. Her chest rose and fell erratically as she caught her breath. Zevran glanced out the window. The sky had turned pink, but the first rays of the new day had yet to shine on the crown city of Antiva.
"I offer my congratulations," Zevran said. "Welcome to the Crows."
Rinna's lips twisted into a smile and she pushed up on her elbows. "Is that it, asasino? No fanfare, no fancy certification, no induction ceremony?"
Zevran chuckled. "I am afraid not, pequeño halcón."
"So, no reward whatsoever for making my way into the infamous Antivan Crows?" Her voice deepened and she arched a brow at him.
"If it is reward you seek," Zevran said in a husky voice, his heart thumping triumphantly in his chest, "I am certain I could arrange something."
"Is that so?"
Zevran leaned closer, his thumb wiping the sweat from her scar. He didn't answer, but fixed her with a smoldering gaze and sucked the salty drop from his fingers. Her tongue darted out to wet her chapped lips. "Indeed, ma querida."
The silence stretched between them for long moments. Suddenly, the sun breached the horizon, bathing the dingy building in a haze of gold. Taking advantage of her momentary blindness as she shielded her eyes against the light, Zevran pulled her flush against him and pressed his lips upon hers. The smell of sweat, sharpening oil, and cinnamon crashed into him. She stiffened for but a moment, then submitted to his onslaught with a moan. She twined her fingers in his hair and kissed him back with fervor.
Breaking away with reluctance, Zevran leaned his brow against hers and smiled. He traced the flush that had risen on her collar with his fingers. "I trust that reward shall suffice?" He nipped at her lower lip and felt her smile.
"Hmm, for a start," she murmured coyly.
Zevran laughed throatily and shook his head. "Ah, pequeño halcón, just imagine the fun you and I will have."
He stood and offered his hand, and the two of them darted back through the awakening city to the guild of the Crows.