A/N: I know, I know, it's been a long ass time since I've written anything for you guys, but I swear I'm back, and determined to make it work, typos and all!
... wait...
Now that that's out of the way, I have a gift fic for an observant reader of mine! For being the first to openly comment on the mockingjay pin and the One Ring in "Drink Me", I asked her what she wanted in her gift fic, and she replied:
"Okay, I admit that (aside from Cullen, my true DA love) I've lately been enamored with Zevran, so my first thought is perhaps something with him. I guess that many of the fics that I've read lately that feature him have left the poor guy rather devastated (his warden dying, Rinna dying, the warden ditching him for Alistair, etc.). So, maybe something a bit happier for our favorite Antivan? The tragedy might even be a good thing to start off with, depending on how you want to write/what you want to write, but I guess my crazy head goes in the direction of warden either dies or does something bitchy and ditches him in the end of DA:O, and maybe he falls in love with f!Hawke during/after that DA2 quest?"
I know you added afterwards that it didn't have to be that exact thing, but for some reason, my mind seized on soothing a certain tortured elf- some of which may have been my doing- and it essentially wrote itself.
Ms. Kyla Baines, I hope you enjoy your gift!
Alone in a cave below Sundermount, sitting below a fire that had started to die out, had to be the most calm and collected man Mari Hawke had ever seen. It was great that she didn't have to find a half-panicked runaway like most of the other times, but it was also unsettling her over how calm he was, considering what was happening.
"Didn't we kill this thing already?!" she shouted, dodging a wicked swing of the varterral's leg. Her party was faring about as well as she was, spotting Fenris keeping it distracted while Isabela ducked in and out of the thing's reach. That left...
"Uh, Hawke? Not to worry you or anything, but I may need some help RIGHT NOW," Varric called, watching as a cluster of spiders started to drop down around him.
Gritting her teeth, she focused her attention on the cave crawlers, fire-laced bolts from her staff firing in rapid succession. Only pausing to keep a sync on which spider Varric was focusing on, the two-man assault continued slowly but steadily, until she took a break to restore some of his stamina. The cry of warning came almost too late, as the varterral she had gotten too close to curled a leg under it, delivering a sharp kick that sent her flying backwards. Stunned, she landed face first, a need to keep moving thrumming in her veins while her aching limbs slowed her progress. The ground shook around her, stronger and stronger, before the loudest shriek possible rent the air. Strong hands turned her over, introducing her to whiskey colored eyes. Three tattooed lines curved down the left side of his angular face, with long, golden locks framing his tanned skin. "Are you uninjured?" an accented voice asked her.
Blinking owlishly at the most gorgeous man she had the pleasure of being saved by, Hawke replied, "... yes?"
"Excellent," the man above her replied, before smooth movements produced another throwing knife, sending it flying towards the varterral. "Because I will need my knives back soon."
"Oh... 'kay," Mari replied, turning back over to rise to her knees. Her head was simming just enough to make her not want to try her feet just yet, and her staff lay broken from the force of being kicked. 'Wonderful,' she thought to herself. 'I now have to focus with a headache the size a Qunari...' Calling on what her father taught her she could feel the ball of electricity building in her hands, growing more and more powerful.
"Hawke!" Isabela shouted.
Taking that as her cue, she let the lightning fly, straight into the large form barreling on her again. It connected head on, stunning the large creature long enough for Fenris to deliver a killing blow. Not too long after, a loud *thunk* of Varric's crossbow dispatched the last spider, leaving the party victorious.
Panting lightly, Hawke watched this happen before relaxing and turning to her rescuer. Maybe this time, she'd be lucky and not sound like a complete idiot while speaking to him. "So... you must be-"
"Zevran Arainai," Isabela interrupted, stepping closer to the duo. "I thought I smelled Antivan leather."
"Isabela," the man, Zevran, smoothly replied. "How good to see you again."
Arching a brow at him, she stated, "What, that's it? No flirts, or smirks, or roaming eyes?"
"Might not be the best time for propositioning, Rivaini," Varric cut in.
Watching as he calmly retrieved his blades from the fallen varterral, Isabela finally asked, "Well, if you're not going to, does that mean I still can?"
"You must be Hawke," Zevran said, straightening and turning to her. "Champion of Kirkwall, second in power to the Knight Commander herself, and my soon-to-be captor."
Confused, she rose to her feet and attempted to smooth some of her disheveled hair into submission. "You're the one I've been sent after?" As he nodded a solemn 'yes', Hawke admitted, "Okay, while my name's popular in Kirkwall, I'm not sure how you know that last bit."
"Reputation, Champion," he replied. "It appears to follow those unfortunate enough to capture its attention, does it not."
"This has to be the longest I've ever heard you not utter a pick-up line," Isabela interrupted.
"Isabela," Hawke started to scold.
"No, she is right," the elven assassin stated. "While it is good to see you again, I must admit that time has changed us both, my friend."
"So it has," the piratess mused.
An uncomfortable silence filled the cavern walls before Fenris cleared his throat. "Hawke," he stated. "We've found who Nuncio told us to find. Shouldn't we take him back to them?"
"You rather blunt companion has a point," Zevran said. As his hand came to rest upon one of his daggers, he continued. "Even I know the importance of finishing a job. I may warn you, however, that I have no intention of going quietly. Or at all."
"Then you would expect us to fight," Fenris just as calmly proclaimed, his own hand coming to rest on the pummel of his greatsword.
Eyes narrowing at the challenge, Zevran replied, "It would go without saying."
"Enough," Hawke finally cut in. "Fenris, relax. He's not going anywhere."
"Hawke, I've seen you in a fight. Your determination has trumped skill many times before," Fenris stated.
"Oh, well thanks for the vote of confidence, but let me say this again: I'm not taking him anywhere, and neither are the rest of us."
The second silence to fill the cavern was cleared by an Antivan voice. "A bold move to make on someone you just met."
"As bold as saving the person you already knew was coming here to capture you?"
Relying on his roguish grace and speed, he was soon standing before Hawke with a blade just grazing her throat. Having met many humans in his time, he was surprised to find himself meeting her eyes evenly. And here he thought she's be seven feet tall, with fire and fury eminating from her. She gasped and flinched with the sudden move, but didn't do anything else. "There is a saying I've heard a few times before: 'sometimes the prettiest of packages contain the deadliest of gifts'."
Her blue-gray gaze searched his warm amber before she finally replied. "Then I suppose I should be lucky you're merely handsome instead." She took a couple of even steps back, watching as the assassin set his blade back while relaxing once more. "Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I vote we get out of here before we find another of these... things ready and waiting to attack us. Not to mention, I sadly have to report a failed mission." Despite the strange glances from her party members, they fell in line; save for a last, lustful look from Isabela, they didn't turn back.
"Interesting," Zevran murmured in the quiet din, soon finding himself following.
o0o0o
It was yet another fight that greeted Zevran's senses: the clang of metal on metal, the sight of men being felled, the tingle of spent magic on his skin. It took him a few moments to remember he wasn't in Ferelden anymore, no longer in her party amidst a horde of darkspawn. Slowing his breathing to normal, he took out his polishing silk and cleaned his weapon, sheathing it shortly after while under the mixed gazes of the surviving party before him.
Isabela, as saucy and as beautiful as he remembered her, looked on with open interest. Much as she continued suggesting, there was a time where he would openly take her up on her many offers of revisiting the past. She was rather fierce in the bed, he remembered... perhaps this elven warrior, Fenris, would take her up on the suggestions? While silent and strong, he knew Isabela would be able enough to bring the most passionate out of a monk. The strange markings on his skin would only make it a challenge for her instead of the hinderance they appeared to be. And then there was Varric, wielder of the deadliest crossbow Zevran had ever encountered, and purveyor of a majority of the rumors that currently circulated Kirkwall. For a dwarf that seemed to know everybody's business- sometimes before the subject knew about it themselves- he seemed a cheerful fellow. The way he talked to and stroked his weapon could come across as odd, but every fighter had their eccentricities, Zevran included. Which finally left... her.
The calm before the storm, and mediator of all fights, Hawke had easily stepped into her role as leader, and it showed. She kept her mind in battle, showed no fear to the enemy, and was in a very close lead to Isabela when it came to looks. He may have done his level best to keep from going down that road again, but he was still a man, and men noticed beauty in many forms. While his fingers itched to sink into her raven locks, to undress and see her ivory skin with more than just his mind, it was her eyes. The color of a sea after a storm, they glowed against the otherworldly light of the Fade she so easily called; they watched with rapt attention as she contributed to both sides of the battle; they lightened with the sheen of *innocence*, Maker help him, while she interacted with her friends. And now, as if sensing him, they landed on his still form, off to the side and purposely separate from her group.
He wasn't in Ferelden anymore... none of that was for him...
"Zevran, is it?" Hawke asked, drawing his attention. "I've split what money they had evenly, and I did try my level best to leave the armor unscathed," she continued, drawing close with a small pouch in hand.
The clink of coin made his ear twitch while it was deposited into his palm. "Payment?" he asked.
"No," Hawke corrected. "I figured since you're on an important mission that will take you outside of the Free Marches, I took it upon myself to help you as much as I could."
"... By giving me a fifth of your earnings?"
"Half of them. My half will be split into four, while yours is yours alone." As Zevran's confused gaze went back to the pouch, Hawke stated, "Look, I don't know what your past is with these gentlemen, but it was reward enough for me to keep them from terrorizing all of Kirkwall while searching for one person. I would normally do the selfish thing and try to keep you on our side, since fighting skills like yours could do a lot of good."
"What is stopping you?" he asked.
"I dont know," she replied. "You'll have to tell me."
"Mari!" Isabela called. As the leader turned her attention away, Zevran took a brief moment to check himself. He had to calm down, get a hold of himself and his goal. She recognized his need and supplied to it... rather selflessly, if what she said about the amount was true. And what she said about preserving enemy armor, either to be sold or worn... It was no secret that his own had seen better days, but it was comfortable. It was light. It kept him safe from death.
And he was not going down that road again!
"Are you coming?" Hawke's gentle voice asked.
"Where to?" he automatically replied, snapping from his thoughts.
"The Hanged Man," she replied. "It may not have the best alcohol, but Isabela and Fenris are bound and determined to set Varric in diamondback. That is, if you're able; I wouldn't want to impose on any plans."
He remained in his spot, watching as Hawke turned to follow her follow her party back towards town. This was twice now, she had turned her back on someone who was good- no, perfect- with his knives. She had to know how foolish that was; not even he would do such a move. So why did she? Was she trying to earn his trust? He refused to believe she really was that naïve to his ways; she barely even knew him!
'Sound familiar?' a wicked voice in his mind whispered, prodding at long-closed wounds.
"No, she couldn't be the same..." he replied aloud. "She paid me to leave. That is all."
'So you're not going to repeat the past?'
Zevran clutched the pouch tighter. No, he wasn't, and he'd make sure of it.
o0o0o
"I don't understand it," Hawke murmured, sitting heavily on the bench next to Isabela. Both were currently in the Hanged Man, and while the latter was focused on her whiskey intake, the former's mind process was miles away. That elf, Zevran... she had no idea how he was doing it, but he was getting under her skin like no one else ever could! Scratching at her head, then releasing the ties to her normally formal bun in an effort to relieve the ache in her skull, she added, "He returns the money I give him, he just gives me this look when I come back with a better set of armor for him, and the blades..."
"What about them?" Isabela asked, wiping her lower lip. "I thought they were beautiful."
"He took one look at them, then back at me, and all but slammed the door in my face," Hawke sullenly replied. Turning to face her friend, she continued to question herself aloud. "I'm not doing anything wrong, am I? I mean, I don't want to come across as overwhelming, but for the Maker's sake, I *gave* him money! I'm trying to help! Where am I going wrong?"
"I'm sure it's not you, pet," Isabela assured Hawke after another swig from her glass. "Save for the fighting and such, he is being remarkably distant... however-"
"By the Void, I knew I shouldn't have gotten the matching sheaths as well," Hawke moaned, putting her face in her arms. Accentuating her words with small bangs against the table, she added, "Stupid, stupid, stupid..."
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but maybe you're going about this the wrong way," Isabela suggested. "The gifts you've given the rest of us have a special meaning to all of us. That amulet you gave to Anders, Kitten's ring, my ship in a bottle- they all remind you of us, yes? Well, why not do the same thing here?"
"Because he's more talkative than an inanimate object," Hawke replied, not lifting her head.
"He doesn't have to say a thing," Isabela reminded her. "And you've certainly been watching him enough to learn more than words could say-"
"No I haven't!" Hawke quickly protested, before blushing as she realized how loud she was.
Isabela slowly nodded, obviously not believing a single word of it. "I may not be good at this whole 'relationship' thing, but I know a fascination when I see it. And you're constantly thinking about this elf cupping your Joining-"
"Please don't start that again," Hawke rushed, reaching over and taking a swg from Isabela's glass, using the drink to hopefully lessen the burn on her cheeks.
"If you watched him, and I mean *really* watched him, then I'm sure you'd know exactly what to get him." Swiping her cup back from Hawke, she saluted her leader and added, "That is, if I was into that sort of thing."
Beside her, Hawke fell silent as she considered Isabela's advice. It was easy for her to use the three most obvious gifts as an example; the Tevinter amulet would keep Anders focused on his goal, the ring had reminded Merrill of her home while being a great start to share the old stories to the other elves in the alienage, and Isabela's boat was simply a cute little thing that was stemmed from a bad moment they could now laugh about. It was just like her to find all sorts of people to populate her circle of friends with, becoming well-rounded with every personality known to man with Zevran's arrival. Maybe he was bound and determined to be a blonde version of Fenris's early days? With the way he silently fought his enemies, and kept to himself as he continually polished his knives...
Rising as a thought came to her, Hawke stated, "I'll see you later, Isabela."
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," she shot back. "Like obey the law. Or not sneak up behind Sebastian and pull his pants down mid-Chantry service."
Mari abruptly stopped and turned back around. "Wait, that was *you*?"
"It can't be proven if one doesn't have any evidence."
"... Isabela..."
o0o0o
Over the sound of rain, Zevran's ear twitched as someone knocked on his door. Correction, as Hawke knocked on his door. Any guardspeople wanting to make sure he was being a model citizen despite his background were often led by the take-charge Guard Captain, who always banged. Isabela and Varric, wanting to pry deeper into his personal life, would always pick the lock. Seeing as no one else trusted him enough to make casual visits, that could only leave her.
What heartache of a moment was she going to bestow on him this time?
Not one to hold onto ghosts, the events that followed his reluctant joining of Hawke's group was enough to make him wonder if his fluid nature was growing lax. He could still see the Warden's expression as she watched him accepting the dragonscale armor, or every new blade gifted to him. Though both women differed greatly from each other, he knew what was happening- no, what he was wanting to let happen. After the strict rules thrust upon him in his childhood, and the hard lessons he learned while away from the Crows, he was growing steadily more complacent...
He supposed he could understand the change in her expression upon seeing his, if he wasn't too disturbed by the turning point in his life. But there she stood, rain soaking into her cloak, and a small, wrapped box in her hands. IMerda/I...
"Can I come in, Zev?" she asked, seeing his wavering interest. "It's pouring-"
"Zevran," he stressed, the nickname hurting more than he expected. Still, he stepped back to admit her entrance. It certainly wasn't her fault he was now a shadow of his former self.
She slid the hood back and combed her fingers through her hair, taking in his sparse surroundings before turning to him in confusion. "I... apologize if I sound rude, but... aren't you staying here?"
"Yes," he answered cautiously.
"Where are your things?"
"These are my things."
A flash of guilt crossed her features before she dropped her gaze. "Oh, well then..." Changing the subject, she presented the box to him. "Here you go."
Looking at the box once more, he wondered what she could have possibly given him this time. An earring to match the lone one he'd stolen a lifetime ago? A chastity belt? His heart? "What is this?"
"A gift," she explained, starting to sound nervous. "Silly, I know, since you don't seem to keep a lot of personal things... but after searching all of the books on etiquette and manners Kirkwall has to offer, I found that there's no pointers on what to give someone who saved you from a monster hidden underneath a Dalish camp, so... I improvised."
"How nice," he replied.
After an awkward silence grew between them, she then tried again. "Are you... going to accept this?"
Zevran crossed his arms, facing Hawke straight on. "Why?" he asked.
"Well, I'm giving it to you, so-"
"No, you don't understand. I have refused your gold, and your other gifts, and have been nothing but cold to you and the rest of your companions. And yet you persist, thinking if you buy enough of my affections I'll eagerly sing and dance for you." Watching as her gaze turned to shock, he pushed onward, ignoring the inner warnings for him to stop. "I may have been born from one, but I swore long before I met you that I would not become a whore to be bought and used again. Feel free to cease this charade of yours; I won't sting your pride too much by making a larger spectacle."
Hands hanging at her sides, her hurt gaze dropped again before hardening. "I didn't realize my concern for your well-being meant this little to you," she finally said.
"Oh, so all of this is out of pity? Why, Champion, thank you for clearing the issue. I am now a whore to be pitied-"
An arcane bolt directed at the wall interrupted him, reminding him that it was never good to anger a mage. Ah well, his damnable fortune held out this far; maybe he'd find himself a lucky bastard once again. He didn't so much as flinch as she stormed closer, eyes alight with the Fade. 'And here it comes,' he thought to himself. 'A slap, followed by a screaming fit, and finishing with slamming doors...' When his wrist was grabbed instead, twisted enough to show his palm, his brows drew together. "Maybe people would stop treating you like the worthless person you claim you are if you would accept it yourself," she snapped, dropping the gift into his captive hand before striding away. Her dark hair back under the hood, she left his pathetic hovel, swirling cape and firmly closed door in her wake.
Zevran didn't know how long he stood there, staring at his door like he was expecting her to come back, until he looked down at his hand. Such a fuss for a small box. He may be a fan of them, but he'd never fully understand women. Scoffing to himself, he moved towards the bare fire, intent on turning it over to the embers, when he stopped. Damn if his curiosity wouldn't get the best of him one of these days... He removed the paper wrapping and idly flicked the box open to reveal-
"Silk?" he asked aloud. Picking up a corner of the fabric with two fingers, he slowly lifted it to reveal a polishing silk. There was no fancy embroidery around the edges, nor anything particular about the gift, save for the rich amber color. Until a corner drifted close to his face during another inspection, and he smelled... home. No, that was an inadequate term... Cupping it to his face and smelling again, he could pick up the warm sandalwood, dark spices... and leather oil.
By Andraste's holy bosom, she captured him on a polishing silk!
He quickly stuffed his prize back into the box before reaching for his cloak, not wanting anything to marr it during his new search for answers.
o0o0o
Her mood sour as she squeezed her hair dry, Mari muttered in a low voice while she paced. "Thinking I'm buying his affections... treating me like little more than a puppeteer with a new toy." In a louder voice, she insisted to Puppy, "I've *never* treated anyone like that! Ever!"
The Mabari in question whined softly and cocked his head to the side. I"But you love your pack mates,"/I he said.
"Exactly mu point, I do! But this..." Mari released a slow breath as she set the drying sheet aside. "I don't know what to make of it. I know he accused me of it, and I know I don't want to feel like that about Zevran, but I do feel bad."
I"Why?"/I Puppy asked.
She braced her hands on the mantle, considering the flames before her. "Well, everything Isabela told me about him, and how he acts now... something had to have happened since then."
"No, just someone," Zevran's voice corrected from the doorway.
Mari squeaked and turned towards the sudden intruder, before doing her best to collect herself. Puppy, on the other hand, instantly leapt up on her bed, facing off with a series of barks. I"Hey! You! You're a stranger in my Mistress's den!"/I
"Thank you for letting me know he was there before he did," Hawke snarked.
I"You're welcome!"/I Puppy replied, waging his stump tail.
Hawke rolled her eyes before addressing Zevran. "What brings you here?" As he simply showed her the once-opened box, she had to restrain herself from growling in frustration. Here she was, back at square one. "Puppy, can you go play with Sandal for a bit?"
I"Sure!"/I He jumped down and padded past, only to stop at the elf's leg to sniff him. I"Hey, he smels like the stinky stuff you put on that-"/I
"ThanyouPuppy," Hawke quickly interrupted, her face growing red again. "GoplaywithSandalnow."
I"Alright, already! You don't have to tell me twice, Mistress."/I Puppy trotted out, before closing the door behind him. Two-leggers, these days... they never appreciated the simple things anymore.
Taking a seat on the rumpled end of her bed, Hawke trailed her eyes over Zevran's wet form, meeting his own soon after. "Well, get it over with," she finally stated.
"Pardon?" his acented voice drawled.
"Do what you came here to do and give the gift back. I promise I'll save the tantrum throwing over such a meaningless thing until you leave and not show you my embarrassing side."
After a few moments, he replied, "Hawke, do not mistake my intentions. This... is far from meaningless." Seeing her confused look, he lightly scratched the back of his neck, shifting in place. "I believe I may owe you an explanation, if you're willing to hear one."
Mari studied him, watching as he seemed to grow nervous. Was she finally going to gain some ground with him? There was only one way to find out... "You can hang your cloak up, dry it out a little, she offered, nodding towards her own.
He paused, then did as suggested before taking a seat next to her. "You are aware I fought with the Hero of Ferelden, yes?" As hawke nodded, he slowly continued. "Shortly before I joined her, I had taken a job in the Crows involving two others: Taliesan and Rinna. At the time, I believed I could be in love with her, though such a thing was never encouraged with the Crows. Nevertheless, my feelings grew over time, until Taliesan and I had discovered our mark receiving information, and that Rinna was the informant."
"What happened?" Hawke asked.
"We killed her for being a traitor, despite her pleas of innocence. She had told me she loved me, with tears in her eyes; I spat on her, told her I didn't care. It was true, until we reached our mark, and the truth about the real informant was found; Rinna was innocent after all. We had told the rest of the Crows that she died during the fight, but it didn't matter. I was treated with as much contempt as before, made even worse by my own guilt. So, I took a contract that others would be deemed foolish to take: kill the Grey Wardens in Ferelden."
"That's brave of you," she commented.
A brief chuckle escaped Zevran. "Indeed, it was. Naturally, I had no idea what I was up against, and was overpowered, yet their leader had let me live. Elissa, her name was, as beautiful as she was skilled. It didnt take long at all for me to become a part of her group, though I was initially met with some mistrust at first. I had openly used her to hide myself from the Crows, but it seemed she didn't care... We fought together, we traveled, we flirted and eventually slept together, and I felt I could finally begin to open myself up to her."
She let him fall silent as she put her thoughts together, not wanting to say anything wrong and chase him off. "... And then what?"
"It was just before the Landsmeet... herself, Alistair, the swamp witch Morrigan and I were traveling through Denerim when Taliesan caught up to me. He had followed our trail and cut us off, attempting to take me prisoner. Seeing I wasn't too keen on leaving myself, he had offered her a deal: twenty sovereigns for me. She had told him to keep the money... because she would turn me over for free."
The surprise twist in the story had her suddenly turning to Zevran in shock. "She said what?!"
"It was true. She hadn't lost her trust, merely her interest. Once it was revealed that Alistair was the lost heir to the throne, and her being of royal blood second only to the throne, she had wanted to set a better future for herself. Taliesan's arrival simply gave her an opportunity to be rid of me before illicit rumors could fly about her relationship with the soon-to-be king."
"But... Alistair had to know what was going on, right?"
He shook his head. "Alas, for a king, he can be remarkably short-sighted. A beautiful woman now vying for his attention, and getting rid of an untrustworthy party member in the process? It was easy bait to take, leaving me a fool once again for opening up to a deadly beauty. Luckily, a member of Taliesan's group chose that moment to grow too anxious to wait, attacking out of turn and prompting a battle. Out of habit, Elissa fought on my side and we had taken the Crows out, ending with my blade in Taliesan's neck as he attempted to flank Elissa. All was quiet as we stood there, her words of betrayal hanging over us. Eventually, she had congratulated me on the excellent shot I made, as if nothing had happened."
"The bitch," Hawke murmured, incensed on his behalf.
Smirking at her reaction, Zevran added, "I informed her that I had missed, before leaving the three of them behind." With a heavy sigh, he finished his tale, slowly turning the box over in his hands. "After that day, I swore I would not easily bend to the wiles of a beautiful woman again. I also swore to kill the Crows, but that is beside the point. I had corrupted my first love with lies, and my second love had fallen to betrayal. Don't get me wrong, I... I want to feel these things with you... even though I forced myself not to. It was- merda, it still is hard, but I don't wish to be hurt again. That is why I have returned everything before; I know I can trust you, but I want to lessen my chances of growing weak again."
She worried her lower lip as she thought over everything he said. It did make sense, being jaded enough to stay away for a while. But the Blight had ended nearly six years ago, and he was alone the entire time, clinging to his blades and only trusting himself. Even now, his fingers twitched as if they were lying too idle for his own good. Slowly reaching out, she took his hand, holding them in his lap. "You know, if we're to be realistic about it, we couldn't possibly be in love yet," Hawke remarked. "We've only known each other a couple of weeks."
The assassin froze, before slowly relaxing his hand in hers. "It does seem foolish when you say it like that."
"It's not foolish," she corrected. "It's normal. Wanting to escape that hurt is normal for someone to feel, so I'm not going to ask you to love right now." Scooting closer, she added, "I would, however, like it if you could try again."
Finally, Zevran turned to face her. "Try what?" he asked, searching her gaze.
"To let yourself feel," she replied. "You don't have to jump in with both feet if you don't want to; just test the waters, and see what happens."
Oh, was it tempting, to just take what she was offering. Even now, she was still holding his hand like he mattered to her... his defenses were wavering, but his wounded pride warred with himself. What if, what if... "Hawke... I don't..." he started.
Scooting closer to him, she gently cupped the side of his face, fingers trailing over his tattoo as she spoke. "How about this: forget my title, my reputation, everything Kirkwall thinks I am, and see *me*." Straightening, she formally shook his hand and added, "My name is Mari, and I'm a native Fereldan with a bad habit of sleeping in. Then again, if you had my Mabari, you'd understand why."
Zevran smirked with amusement. "Fair enough. My name Zevran, and I'm an Antivan with a secret affinity for fresh for fresh leather and tattoos."
Despite her previous goal, her eyes lit up with open interest. "Tattoos, you say? I have one, if you want to see it." Turning her back to him, she loosened her house robe enough to expose her bare shoulder to him.
Warm fingers pushed the fabric a little further down, exposing the subject in its entirety. "A butterfly?"
"Yeah," Mari said. "It's silly, but my father... he always called me his little butterfly. So after he died, I wanted something to remember him by, and I got this. Now every time I think of it, it's like he's with me again."
He fell silent as he traced the outer edges, his breath softly warming the bare skin. She released a slow breath as his lips gently pressed to it, her head turning as they trailed up to her shoulder. He was close, keeping purposely out of reach until he couldn't stand the distance. The first wall around his heart started to crumble as they finally kissed, as his very soul sighed in satisfaction over the move. This was what he needed, a kind touch that wouldn't assume or demand from him, and one that hopefully wouldn't hurt him in the end. He pulled back first, watching as her eyes slowly blinked back open, the blue in them deepening by the light of the fire.
She reached out and took his hand once more. "Is this alright?" she asked him.
"Yes," he quietly replied.
Turning to face him fully, she worked on removing their clothing. It had started with her servicing him, by drinking in every inch of skin revealed, tracing the lines of each tattoo with her fingers, and kissing the white marks of his old scars. When he wanted to see her, she simply sat back and let him explore her- everything that made her gasp with surprise, sigh with pleasure, or moan with need, he found them all. It took him no time to have her laying bare before him, all curves and warmth as she writhed under his careful attentions. This, however, started feeling like his old games, making him pull back from her.
He chuckled as she moaned a protest, arching her chest up to him in a wordless plea. "Hush, we must slow down," he started, before finding himself flipped onto his back, Mari straddling him while sporting a cheeky grin. "Or not. Whichever you prefer."
"Just wanted to do this," she assured him, nuzzling the crook of his neck. She took her time exploring his bare skin again, grinning opening as she felt his fingers combing through her dark hair. Her own hands worked on soothing still tense muscles, listening to his breathing deepen the further down his body she went. Just how low did these tattoos go? She got a pretty good answer after unlacing his trousers. Feeling her pause, he looked down to find her face turned up to him. "That had to hurt," she simply stated.
With a small shrug, he replied, "Eh, not really," before laying his head back down. It popped back up as he heard her snickering. "What?"
"Nothing," Hawke said, pulling off his pants and boots, grinning with her own amusment. When she noticed him still watching her as she returned to his side, she gave in and explained. "You just sounded so carefree about it. 'Why yes, I've had thousands of needles pierce my skin in my lifetime, even on more sensitive areas, but... meh, it didn't really hurt.'"
"Once you get used to it, all tattoos feel the same," Zevran defended playfully. "Didn't yours hurt?"
"That is *not* the same," she insisted. "I didn't get certain lady parts tattooed, no thank you."
"Alas," he replied, rolling them over once more and pinning her. "Now I have no need to soothe any leftover aches you may have."
"... That is a shame," she agreed.
Their playful mood sombered to something deeper, more serious, as they kissed each other again. While doing so, his hands sought out her erogenous zones once again, while hers encouraged him along, eventually fisting in the blankets beside her head. Not knowing what drove his actions, he purposely drew out her pleasure, pushing them both close to insanity when he finally drew close, sinking into her soft heat. There he held himself as she squirmed, seeking movement from him to give her a sweet release that they both craved. "Zevran, please," she finally begged.
He gently shushed her, soothing her back from the brink. "Slow, Mari," he murmured into her ear. Once satisfied she had calmed back down, he started a gentle rocking motion, one she easily followed. Long minutes passed as he studied her, watching her every reaction as her lust slowly pulled her back in, while claiming himself shortly after. Their easy rocking sped up, as embraces tightened and moans were smothered by frantic kisses. He barely covered her cry of release, though hearing its intensity pushed him on towards his own. However, it was her sighing his name in pleasure that did him in.
For that brief moment, someone wanted him, and not the persona he built over time and practice.
Zevran came back to the feel of arms wrapped loosely around his back, her legs growing lax around him. Needing distance from the shockingly perfect feeling, he untangled himself and shifted to the side, watching as the dying flames cast an orange glow to her skin. His calloused fingers trailed softly over her, making her finally look at him again. It took him a long time to speak, wanting to not go back to the real world and what awaited him there. "I can't stay," he quietly said.
Heaving a great sigh, Mari schooled her emotions back. Cities weren't built in a day, she had to remind herself. "Alright," she answered, turning towards him. Reaching up to trace the lines across his cheek once more, she made a small request. "Will you wait until it stops raining, at least?"
He considered her for a few moments, before laying back down. "Alright," he echoed, drawing comfortably closer. Nothing more was said, as he didn't want to disturb her while she slowly drifted off to sleep. Besides, who was he kidding? She was beautiful, generous and kind, everythi g his past lovers were. And yet he didn't join Mari because she was the sleek and fearsome Crow, or the fiery and wicked Warden... she was the steady and warm Champion, blinking up at him in a daze from having the wind knocked out of her mid-battle, both angry as he demeaned himself and as others took advantage of him... oh, how easy it would be...
Slowly, he pulled from her loose embrace, tucking her blankets around her slumbering form before getting dressed once again.
o0o0o
I"Mistress!"/I
Jerked awake, Mari groaned aloud while nearly folding in half as her Mabari divebombed onto her. "Puppyyyyy, off!" she added, grunting while she pushed the the worst of his weight from her. "It's too early... and you're too heavy."
I"Nuh uh,"/I Puppy insisted. I"I'm still a puppy, you always say so! And it can't be too early, because your pack mates are here, wanting to go to the beach! I like the beach... can I come with today? Please, please, pleeeeeeeease?"/I
Sighing loudly, she raked a tired a hand across her eyes, pausing as something rubbed against her nose. She quickly pulled it away, forcing her sleep-blurred eyes to focus on the dark amber fabric wrapped carefully around her wrist. She studied the small knot on one side, adding a cute flair she found she liked. While it was yet another gift returned to her, this one didn't hurt quite so much as the previous ones. All he needed was some time and patience, both of which she could give to him. "I guess it depends on him," she muttered aloud.
I"What does?"/I Puppy asked.
"Nothing," Mari quickly answered. The last thing she needed was either Varric or Isabela grilling her poor dog for rumors. "Now, off the bed, I guess we're going to the beach today." She giggled as her Mabari damn near flew away, racing out the door and bellowing his excitement. That gave her enough time to get herself ready for a long day of walking, with the inevitable fight to accompany them. Once ready, she strode through the manor, following her dog's excited barking to the entryway.
"'Bout time you showed up," Varric greeted, casually tossing an apple her way. "Aveline and I were about to make a bet on how long it was going to take you to get down here."
Hawke paused before taking a bite, spotting the third companion waiting for her. He was sitting by himself, close to the door and still under the careful eye of Aveline, polishing his blades once again. What had stopped her this time was the damn near pristine condition, and the blue-gray color, of the silk used. It was either way too early to think clearly, or it really did match her eyes... "Zevran?" she asked.
"Zev," he corrected, finally looking up from his work. "Is something the matter, my dear Champion?"
A slow smile spread before she answered. "Not at all."