I totally got writers block for the conversation between Lyna and Zevran at the end. It was very annoying, since I was ALMOST DONE.
(If anyone is waiting for me to update Ghosts -shamelessplug- I'm sooo sorry for the delay. I got some blockage there for a conversation in the next chapter. Apparently the talky-talky is my downfall. I think I know how I want it to go now though. Soon!)
Disclaimer: Bioware owns everything good.
Zevran
The Antivan assassin stalked along at the back of the group, trailing behind Sten and Morrigan as they followed the object of his thoughts: Lyna Mahariel, the Dalish Grey Warden. Zevran was finding himself becoming more and more attached to the slender elf, to the point where he wasn't sure he could leave, or if he even really wanted to leave. The companions had left the rest of their party in camp, Lyna deciding that a smaller group would cause less trouble in the small village they were heading for then a group of nine. They climbed over a rocky hill in the path just before noon, the little village called Haven coming into view. Zevran paused briefly to scan the town; he had a bad feeling about the place, but he could see no reason for the vibe.
The village stretched up along the foothills of a mountain, it's quaint houses placed delicately along the edges of a winding path up to what looked like a Chantry. The trees were all dusted with snow, as were the rooftops, making everything look rather neat in the cold early afternoon air. Zevran glanced down the path, noting that he'd fallen a bit behind. He hurried down the trail, catching up just as the Warden was addressed by a guard. Odd, what is a small town like this doing with guards at the gate?
"What are you doing in Haven? There's nothing for you here." The humans voice was harsh, his gaze cold as he stared down at the slender elf standing before him. The man glanced over the rest of the party before turning his attention back to Lyna.
The Warden tilted her head slightly to one side. Zevran could picture the faint frown creasing her delicate face as he stood behind her with Sten and Morrigan. "Hello. We were hoping to have a look around... maybe restock on supplies?" Clearly Lyna had decided that the hostile guard was not the right target for questions about Genitivi. The man scowled at her and said, "We do not appreciate lowlanders 'looking about' our home as though we were some sort of zoo. You may trade for supplies at the shop, if you wish. Then I suggest you and your companions leave."
Besides him, Morrigan whispered, "They are hiding something. Tis obvious." Zevran threw grinned at the witch and whispered back, "Ah, quiet, insular communities. There's always something nasty going on behind closed doors. I hope it involves chains. I hope they ask me to join in." Morrigan rolled her eyes and swept off after Lyna and Sten, who were passing the guard and heading up the hill where the local had indicated.
Zevran pulled even with the mage as they went around a bend in the path, the guard dropping out of sight; Sten was a few paces behind Lyna as she led the way. Quite suddenly, Sten stopped and said in a firm voice, "What are we doing here?" Lyna turned around and looked up at the towering qunari; Zevran and Morrigan stopped, exchanging a curious glance.
"What do you mean?" Lyna's voice was melodic as she stared up at the large warrior, a faintly puzzled look in her violet eyes.
"I do not understand. The archdemon is to the south. Is it your intention to continue north until we approach the blight from the rear?" The slender Warden folded her arms across her chest, her eyes narrowing slightly. "It is not necessary for you to understand. I am leading this mission." The qunari shifted his stance as she spoke, and suddenly Zevran was worried. He tensed, and Morrigan placed a hand on his arm; he glanced at her and registered her worry as she shook her head slightly, her knuckles white on her staff. Her meaning was clear: Do not interfere.
There was a weighty pause and then Sten took a step back, his hand reaching for the hilt of his massive chasind flat-blade as he said, "Not anymore. I am taking command." Lyna stared up at him, her violet eyes lightening slightly as Zevran watched, his own hands flying to the hilts of his weapons. Surely the Warden could defuse this situation... she was amazingly charismatic when it came to things like this...
To the assassins amazement, she smirked and took a few quick steps back, her massive longbow coming off her shoulder in one graceful movement as she said, "I'd like to see you try."
Before Zevran could respond, the qunari was charging forward, his steps fluid as he swung his sword in a massive arc that the slender Warden could not possibly dodge; his muscles were frozen in shock, and he heard a sharp intake of breath from the witch at his side. The two watched with wide eyes as the Dalish elf moved like smoke; she ducked under the horizontal sweep and moved around to Sten's left - the same direction as the movement of the blade - and pulled the dagger from her boot in one movement. As she came around to his side, she stabbed downward, the blade piercing the edge of his boot, pinning him temporarily to the ground. The massive warrior had clearly lost sight of her, her movement lost in the blur from his weapon, and as she came around behind him she took the moment to shift her grip on her six-foot longbow; she spun it around in a move similar to his own first strike and cracked the qunari in the back of the head.
Still moving, Lyna came around to his right and spun the weapon in her hand like a staff, smashing it into his jaw with a vicious cracking sound that caused his head to snap back. He staggered backwards and fell, his hand flailing as he lost balance due to the dagger sticking his foot to the icy ground. Moving fluidly, the Warden drew an arrow and took a bead on the fallen warrior, her violet eyes narrowed as she watched her opponent. Just as suddenly as the fight had begun, it was over.
Zevran let go of the breath he had unconsciously been holding, his eyes wide; he had never seen the Warden move that way, and to his surprise, she didn't look angry. Her violet eyes were slightly darker then usual, and she had a faintly knowing look on her face. What did she know that he did not? The assassin glanced at Morrigan and saw that she was just as surprised at he was. The entire event had taken mere seconds.
Sten shook off his daze, his free hand wiping the blood from the small cut on his chin; he examined the dagger pinning his foot to the ground and then looked up at the dainty elf prepared to shoot him dead. Zevran watched in shock as the qunari inclined his head respectfully and said in a calm voice, "It appears you are worthy of command. I submit." Lyna smiled faintly and lowered her bow, watching as the qunari stood and handed her back the dagger, sheathing his own blade.
"Very well. Fall in line and let's get this over with, shall we?" Morrigan and Zevran shared another incredulous look as the giant qunari and the slender elf continued up the hill as if nothing had occurred. The assassin darted forward, past the remarkably calm warrior and hissed in Lyna's ear, "Have you gone mad, Warden? He just tried to kill you!"
Lyna just smiled and glanced over her shoulder at Sten, who was looking up the hill where the chantry was again visible. She whispered, "I'll explain later, Zev. I promise. Don't worry, it'll be fine." Zevran dropped back next to the witch, muttering to himself. He looked at Morrigan who was watching him cursing and said, "Bloody women. You're all insane."
...that night in camp
Zevran sat by the fire, watching as the Warden spoke quietly to Sten. It had been a long day of fighting cultists and young dragons, and the assassin wanted to rest... but not before Lyna explained her actions as promised. He had expected her to come explain as soon as they were done setting up camp, but instead the enigmatic elf had gone to have what had to be her longest conversation yet with the stoic qunari. The Antivan caught a few words here and there... "farmers"... "Beressad"... "sword"... "panic"... but not enough to get the meaning of their discussion. Zevran sighed and closed his eyes, letting his mind drift over the events of the day.
They stood before a small stone altar, beyond which rose a wall of fire burning from no discernible fuel source. Beyond, they could just make out a statue of Andraste, lit from above by a shaft of moonlight. Lyna knelt before the altar, her fingers trailing over an inscription there. After a few moments, she stood and said, "Remove your equipment." As soon as the last of the half-naked companions stepped through the flames, the wall of fire flickered out and the Guardian reappeared, telling the Warden that they had been found worthy and could now approach the Urn.
The party took a moment to re-equip their gear, and then they approached the dais, following several paces behind the Warden. Zevran heard Sten mutter, "Congratulations! You've found a waste bin." Lyna did not respond, her slender fingers resting on the lid of the rather ornate urn. Morrigan asked, "Do you intend to do as Kolgrim demanded then?" The Dalish immediately shook her head, whispering, "I would not foul the remains of the war leader Andraste, who fought with Shartan to bring freedom to my people as well as her own." With that, she removed the lid and reached inside, taking a pinch of ashes and placing them in a small pouch. She put the lid back on and turned back to face them, murmuring, "Now let us back to Redcliffe, and hope these ashes are as magical as it is claimed."
The assassin's eyes snapped open when he felt cool fingers trailing across his shoulders... Lyna. She smiled down at him and tilted her head towards her tent, pausing briefly before slipping into it without a word. Zevran stood quickly, determined to get some answers from the Warden, and stalked in after her, ignoring the watchful gaze of Talin just outside.
The Warden had already changed out of her armor and into the soft green linen shift she preferred to sleep in, and was sitting on her bedroll brushing her hair when he entered. She looked up at him with a smile, her expression faltering slightly when she noticed the scowl on his face.
"You will explain now, my dear Warden." He stood stiffly before the closed tent flap, his arms folded across his chest, unsure of why he was so angry with her. Lyna just looked at him for a moment, her comb resting on her knee; finally, she said, "Sit down first, and I most certainly will..."
Lyna
Lyna watched as Zevran took a seat at the foot of her bedroll, crossing his legs gracefully. My, but he looks ferocious... She knew he was upset with her, she could read it on his face; his normally suave expression was gone, his emotions showing clearly through the mask he usually wore. She tilted her head to one side, her gaze fixed on his golden eyes, and said, "You should not be so upset. It isn't exactly the first time someone in our little troupe tried to kill me." She watched as he flinched visibly, and masked her surprise; she had never seen her assassin so... unbalanced.
She kept her eyes on the Antivan as she slid her comb back into her pack. After a few moments of tense silence, Lyna said, "Did you know that since Sten joined us, I've been trying to figure out how to talk to him? The qunari are an unusual people. Out of the entire group out there," she gestured to the tent flap, "Sten is the only one I had trouble getting to know, his culture being so very removed from my own..." As she spoke, Zevran relaxed slightly, though his expression was still tense.
Smiling faintly, she leaned back on one hand and murmured, "In Haven today, when he challenged me... it was like a breakthrough. I remembered something he said to me once, and realized it wasn't just our cultural differences that was causing the trouble..."
Zevran leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowed, and asked, "Oh? And what was the trouble, then?" Lyna smirked, her eyes still fixed on the elf across from her.
"It was because I'm a woman." The assassin blinked, perhaps not expecting such a statement; the Dalish snickered at his expression and moved to elaborate. "A woman who fights, to be specific. For the qunari, such a thing is unnatural. Utterly unheard of..." Pursing her lips and staring down at the bedroll, she continued in a slightly thoughtful tone, "What it boiled down to was that he did not believe I was fit to lead. Today was him deciding to prove that as a fact."
She looked up to see Zevran sitting there with a thoughtful expression on his face; suddenly, he slid himself towards her, a smirk playing about his lips and his voice low as he said with a vaguely approving tone, "You proved him wrong."
Glad that the argument, if it could be called that, was over, Lyna lifted her hand and trailed her fingers along his tattoos, murmuring, "Yes, I did. Do I get a prize?"
Smirking slightly, the assassin reached out and pulled the dainty Dalish elf against him, her arms curling around his neck and her slender fingers threading through his hair; his lips less then an inch from hers and his voice a low, humming whisper, he whispered, "I suppose I could find some suitable reward, my dear Lyna..."