Mi Amor

Willow winced as she swallowed down another swig of that damned beer. Oghren laughed loudly and obnoxiously before finishing off the last few gulps in his tall flagon. She had foolishly decided to sit down next to the more than slightly inebriated dwarf and had promptly been challenged to a ridiculous test of wills.

"Come on Warden, you're tougher than that! I've seen you gut a Genlock with more fire than that!" He laughed heartily.

Somehow taking down a tainted beast like a Genlock had been a lot less daunting than finishing the burning acrid liquid that sat in the bottom of her cup.

"I think I'll stick to the softer stuff from now on." She coughed before setting the heavy mug back on the ground.

"Oh come on Warden, you're making me think that everything I've heard about you Dalish is right. Ya know, obsessed with trees, dancing around the forest talking about how pretty you all are and how drinking is for buffoons like me."

"Drinking is for buffoons like you." Sten said sitting next to the redheaded male.

While Oghren stammered to find an adequate response in his drunken state, Alistair saw the quickly massing group around the fire and happily took the open spot next to their wise and fearless leader.

"Apparently, someone doesn't have to be Dalish to think they're prettier than everyone else." He smiled as he pointed over to the other side of camp. There sat Zevran, his eyes closed in happiness and contentment as Leliana braided his blonde locks away from his eyes just the way he liked it. The group that had gathered laughed, even Sten cracked a half smile thinking about the self absorbed elf and his long beauty regime. Willow chuckled too, knowing first hand about Zevran's ridiculous obsession with looking gorgeous constantly. In the mornings before they set off to Maker knows where, Zevran would be up cleaning himself with freezing water from the river or wash bucket. Willow always wondered how he managed to smell like cinnamon and nutmeg constantly when he washed himself with the same water as everyone else. Almost as if he read her thoughts, Zevran slowly opened his eyes and met hers.

"Those eyes," she thought. Even though they had been together for almost a year now and he had long since given her his earring as a token of his true affection, looking into those golden eyes still made her stomach drop like it was the first night they had spent together. The Warden could never explain how those eyes made her feel. They pulled at her, asking her to confess all the woman's sins and lay them bare to him. Without even trying he could reduce the usually level headed and wise Warden into a wide eyed and frankly naive romantic.

Zevran finally broke his smoldering gaze from the blushing girl, quickly unfolded his legs and stood. Bowing deeply to the kind redhead, thanking her profusely in his thick Antivan accent for her skills, he smoothly turned and waltzed his way towards the roaring fire. Willow's heart leapt into her chest as she watched this beautiful man casually stroll closer to where she sat.

"Swapping stories, my friends? Oh how exciting. I have one about a block of wood, an Antivan prince and a truly amazing game of Wicked Grace." He said coming to stand behind his beloved, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Oh I'm sure you have plenty of stories to share." Alistair guffawed as he picked up Willow's long since abandoned mug of ale and took a swig. He instantly started coughing and sputtering trying to get some air after the truly rank liquid slid down his throat.

"How do you drink that stuff Oghren? Burns like dragons breath!"

"Oh come on pretty boy, even the lady elf had more than that!" Oghren laughed.

"Please don't say that, or else I'll have to prove myself and I'll end up running naked through the trees with Zander on my heels on some sort of twisted bet."

"Oh, I think I'd rather like to see that." Zevran chuckled, causing the rest of the group to burst into laughter and Alistair to blush uncontrollably. His hands found his short spiky hair as he half muttered, half choked out some words that involved needing to talk to Wynne about something suddenly very important and very far away from his current location.

Willow suddenly felt Zevran's impossibly smooth hands run up her back and come to rest on her tanned shoulder. She tried vainly to maintain some modicum of interest about the current conversation but was finding it increasingly difficult as he ran small circles with his fingers and thumb over her skin. That blasted scent of cinnamon and nutmeg coming to haunt her, making it even more difficult to care about the conversation Sten and Oghren were having about the differences between blades of Qunari and Dwarven make. Her breathing suddenly hitched and almost ceased completely when she felt his hot breath brush against her ear and his other hand wind into her tangled black locks.

"Come, mi amor, I have something I'd rather like to show you in your tent." His teeth barely grazing the top of her pointed ear as he finished.

Willow didn't know how but suddenly she found herself walking towards her tent, Zevran's hand clutched in hers. The sound of Oghren's hoots and hollers ringed in her ears, making her walk even faster to get out of sight of her nosy companions. Finally just outside the flap of her tent, she allowed herself to relax a little and turn to look at those amber eyes. She found herself looking at the curve of his lips, the sharp ridge of his jaw, the arch of his delicate eyebrows. At first it had been a wonder to her how she had fallen for such a pretty boy as Oghren would have put it. Keeper had always said that she deserved a man as strong and steadfast as the tree she was named for. If only Keeper could see her now; in love with a man more wild and untamed than the sea.

Of course, Zevran hadn't been the first proud and adventurous blonde boy she'd loved. A familiar and deep pang of hurt ran through her heart. Tamlen. Even though it had been years since he had just disappeared, the Warden still found herself wanting to tell him stories and searching for his face in the crowds of Denerim. Their love that had been founded on years of hunting, fighting and laughing at each others sides, ripped away in a matter of moments by that damned mirror. Not a day went by that she didn't regret allowing Tamlen to go into that cursed cave.

"Looking for something, my love?" Zevran said with a raised eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

"Just...lost in thought." She blinked, pulling away from a thousand memories, each one more poignant than the last.

"I've been told that my beauty has that effect on people." He joked, pulling her in closer to better feel her presence.

"Oh, it does, does it?" Willow smiled.

"It certainly seems to have had that effect on you, Mi Amor."

"It certainly did, my love."

His golden eyes once again met hers, before closing and slowly pulling her into a searing kiss. That's how all his kisses felt; whether they were simple and made in passing or deep and passionate in the dark of night. They all burned and made her body ache with the deepest desire to be as close as possible to him. Even now, her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in and deepening the kiss. His hands delicately wrapped around her waist and raised her slightly so her face was even with his. His rich scent once again filled her head and made it hard to think coherent thoughts.

"No matter how many times I do that, it will never be enough." He said when he finally pulled away, his eyes filled with tenderness.

She just smiled, her dark eyes twinkling with his sweet words. She grabbed the back of his neck once more to pull him into another kiss when a snapping branch caught both of their attention. Zevran's once completely relaxed body tensed as his eyes slowly scanned the treeline a couple feet from the tent. It was silent, except the soft rustle of the light breeze through the trees. All traces of the strange sound had vanished.

"What was that sound, Zev?" Willow asked, her breathing tight.

Not a moment later several sheiks suddenly burst from the forest and descended on the unarmed pair.

Willow's nails dug into the palm of her hand as she watched the pyre burn.

"Tamlen deserved more. He should have been buried, a tree planted over his grave, something beautiful that he could leave in this world to remember him by. Instead, smoke and ash is all that will be left of my childhood friend." She thought.

"No… not friend. Love. My childhood love, the one that proved to me that it was meant to be pure and innocent. He never mistreated me."

Tears pricked her eyes and threatened to spill over, but she held them back. Even though the rest of the group had long since left after helping her build his funeral pyre, she didn't want to show her pain. From the moment she saw his face, contorted and rotten like a darkspawn, his eyes cold and hollow, she felt unbelievable pain. Chasing him and trying to speak with him, begging him to come back, him pleading with her to kill him, all before having to plunge her dagger in his heart. Pain didn't even begin to describe how she felt.

A loud log popping as it burned brought her back and pulled her from her broken heart.

"Ir abelas. Ar lasa mala revas." She said out loud, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Direth shiral." With the fire hardly more than a few embers, she turned away from a million memories that threatened to pull her down and made her way back to her tent.