A/N :
Ok. First off hello. :) Secondly, this story takes place about a year or two after Wynne defeats the blight. I am putting Zevran meeting the Hawke sooner. This story should go through most, if not all of Act III. Hope you enjoy!
"You sure it wasn't the Crows?"
Zevran looked from the red head mage that was healing his shoulder, to the Champion of Kirkwall, as she paced back and forth in front of them.
"Oh I'm sure. She's Dalish and the only ones who could fletch arrows like that, are Dalish."
"And use fleshrot poison apparently. The old Commander of the Grey Wardens was Dalish, and she loved making all sorts of poisons. Flesh rot was her favorite." Spoke up the mage as he poured some contents of a potion onto a clean white cloth, then pressed it against Zevran's shoulder.
"Yes, well she is known to have a temper." Zevran hissed as pain issued from his wound.
"Same with the Commander." The mage removed the cloth from the shoulder and threw it into the fire behind Zevran. All three were in one of the smaller rooms in the Hawke estate. Zevran himself claimed this room for a few nights after running into the Champion at one of the many parties that he kept sneaking into. Turns out that one of the Antivan crows that Zevran was hunting, was also a slave trader, something which the dear Champion found out during the festivities. Needless to say, Zevran joined up soon afterward.
"So you know who she is?"
"Yes, well she is my fiancee," Zevran grinned at the Champion. "...and the Hero of Ferelden."
Losing herself to both drink and thoughts, Wynne had seated herself in the back corner at the Hanged Man a few hours later. Her dark blue hood was back up, hiding her face from the world as she took another swig of the foul drink that was in front of her.
Vomit rose in her throat as her mind quickly replayed the images over and over again. Anger and grief threatened to make a comeback as she slowly placed the mug back down onto the table before her shaking hands spilled the contents of it all over herself. She had to regain control, but how could she? She had loved him. More then anything in the world, and he betrayed her. He had promised that he would come back to her, and make her his wife. That she was the only one for him, that she was the only thing in this world that kept him going.
And she believed every single word out of his mouth.
Taking a deep breath Wynne closed her eyes and tried to calm down and think. Think about what to do next, since she just basically wasted five precious years on him.
She didn't leave on good terms with the Grey Wardens, or if her tribe would welcome her back. She didn't even know if she wanted to go back to either since she had spent so much time on the road, that staying in one place for more than a few weeks felt odd. And did she really want to go back to Ferelden? Having to explain everything to Alistar? To look him dead in the eye and tell him that he was right, that he was always right? No. No she couldn't. At least not now. Now all she wanted to do was drink the night away, and curl up in the nice warm bed that awaited her in the room that she had rented.
Picking up the mug again, she swirled the drink around, watching the yellow liquid swirl, and bubble. Tears again threatened to spill as she couldn't help but think of him. She tried to blame it on her now drunken stupor as she quickly downed the rest of what the barman called "The Hairy Dwarf".Slamming the now empty mug on the table, Wynne tried to stand but she had to quickly sit down as she found the world around her started to tilt. Flinging her hood back in frustration, Wynne placed her head in her hands and closed her eyes trying to keep the world still. But it wasn't going so good. She never really got used to the humans drinks much to everyone's delight back in the good ole days. Sighing, Wynne peeked through her fingers as she looked down at the table.
So far...so good
Tilting her head up Wynne slowly took in the room and the people around her. It wasn't really full, and there wasn't really anything noteworthy about anything really. The floors were just as dirty as any other inn she visited, and the barmaids were just as sassy as any she had met. The only thing that really caught her eye was the elf that sat a couple of tables away from her. After a few minutes of regaining some clarity, she noticed that he was staring at her. Frowning she sat up and stared back. She really couldn't focus in on him, or really tell what he looked like so far away, but what she did notice was that he had white hair like hers, and that he had strange tattoos all over his arms.
"What?" Wynne demanded as she continued her staring contest with the other elf. "Wh-what's your problem?" He didn't say anything to her, just kept staring, and that was making the slightly drunk Wynne agitated. "D-do you know who I am?"
The other elf just leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest and replayed, "No. And I don't care to know either."
Wynne nodded and looked at her empty mug and mumbled, "Good. Cause I don't want you to." She slowly stood up and carefully made her way to the bar for another drink. She handed the barkeeper the money that was due, and raised the glass to her lips and took another swig of the drink. Slowly but surely she drank herself into oblivion.