Ok here is part 2. Sorry for the delay. Oh, brief warning, there's a bit of saucy Zevran + PC kissy time near the middle/end. Yes yes, just kissy time don't look at me like that you lechers.
Anyway, same deal. Let me know if grammar/spelling/word choice/whatever seems off for whatever reason. I don't have an editor so I have to do my own proofreading (heaven for-fend!) and I'm bound to miss things.
Bioware owns everything, blah blah.
Wynne stared off after the departing elves, somewhat alarmed by how entrenched their normally indomitable leader was in this dreamland. She glanced at Zevran, but he was paying no attention to her at all. Shale, suddenly standing right behind them, said, "Well that was interesting. It didn't even see the Painted Elf. How peculiar. I will just wait over here shall I?" The mage flinched, visibly surprised at how silently the golem approached. Zevran did not respond, his eyes fixed on where Lyna vanished into the trees. "Zevran?" Wynne reached out and touched his arm, and he started as if she had struck him.
He whispered, "She seems so happy here... with a daughter..." The assassin shuddered, then turned to the mage, his mask firmly back in place, a faint smirk on his lips that did not reach his eyes. "Shall we find a way to wake her up from this shining little dream, my darling Wynne?"
She studied the elf for a moment, a faintly knowing smile gracing her lips despite their dire situation. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she said, "Yes. She may seem happy here, but she'll die, as will we all, if we cannot reach her." The Antivan nodded, his eyes flickering briefly before he asked, "You have a plan of some sort, I take it?"
Wynne smiled faintly, gazing in the direction the little rogue had run off in. "Indeed I do young man. In fact, you are my plan." Smirking slightly at the surprised look Zevran gave her, Wynne raised her hand to forestall any objections, the mage continued. "Shale is right. Lyna did not see you. She saw me, though she did not recognize me. You however, she didn't even see. Why do you suppose that is?" She watched him as he frowned, his mouth opening a few times to speak, then closing quickly. "She didn't see you because the demon does not want her to. You've been.... written out of the story, so to speak. I exist in this dream as just another human." The wise mage motioned to Shale as she spoke, "Even Shale would likely be seen, should she stop standing around like statuary and give it a go, but you..."
Zevran stared at the mage, his golden eyes narrowed in thought. "I begin to see where you are going with this. I am a... a plot hole, so to speak." He smirked suddenly and said, "Darling Wynne, so full of wisdom and... marvelous experience, I am sure."
Wynne rolled her eyes and swiped half-heartedly at the shameless elf, who just dodged with a faint chuckle. "Go find her then, you lech. I'll wait here with Shale, we'll keep the demon in sight."
Zevran did not like this place. Oh, it was pleasant enough, all glowing sunlight and trees with the smell of vibrant life on the gentle breeze, but he did not like it anyway. Not one bit. So this is what she dreamed of, was it? To have never left her clan, her poor dead friend not dead anymore with a little imp child to call her own. And a husband... The assassin frowned as he stalked through the camp, completely ignored by it's elven-appearing inhabitants. And why shouldn't she have a husband. They had made no promises to each other, not that he'd ever offer such a thing... He clenched his jaw as he walked. It seemed Wynne was correct. He did not exist in this dreamland. Bloody marvelous. Her perfect dreamland and he didn't even exist. Zevran did not know why the thought burned at him so, his mouth turned down in a menacing scowl.
The elf paused by one of the trees. He had been scouring the camp for what felt like hours now - though it was probably much less then that, minutes maybe - and he still hadn't caught a glimpse of the wayward rogue. He realized he also hadn't seen that Tamlen fellow or the... the little girl. Or any children at all for that matter. Aha, she was probably where the children were. If only he knew more about the Dalish, maybe he could figure out where children were normally kept in a camp like this. Maker, why had he never asked about her heritage. Oh, sure he answered her questions readily enough, giving her endless stories filled with shameless flirtation; but he'd only ever asked once, and she'd given him the story of Tamlen and how she came to be a Grey Warden. And then he hadn't asked again. Maker forsake him, why was he dwelling on THAT of all things, now? He didn't care enough to ask, obviously. Why should he care? He would fulfill his oath and they would both go on their merry way. Zevran balled his fist and struck out at the unoffending tree, breaking the skin on his knuckles. He savored the sharp tang of pain, trying to use it to focus his wildly rambling thoughts in a more... useful direction. Right. The children.
Instead of just wandering aimlessly hoping to stumble across his Warden.. the Warden, not his... the Assassin drifted silently through the camp, keeping his eyes closed and focusing on his sensitive ears, the elf easily avoided any collisions and was rewarded for his efforts. The joyful peal of laughter; children at play. It was faint, but he had bead on them now. Hopefully he was right and Lyna was there. If she wasn't... he cut the thought off. He'd deal with that if it came to it.
Stalking across the camp and around a few strange caravan wagon things - landships? - Zevran found his quarry. Sort of. He saw the children anyway, sitting in a clearing around an elderly elf with white braided hair. He appeared to be telling them a story. Ah, that would be the... hahren? Yes that was the word. And then he saw her. She was slightly away from the group, in the trees a little ways. Lyna. He felt his whole body tense as he stared at her. She was sitting back against a tree, her longbow settled on the ground by her feet, one leg curled under, the right leg bent at an angle with her arm draped across it. She was toying with something in that right hand, something he couldn't see from this distance. She was gazing at the children with a dreamy look on her face. Zevran finally tore his gaze away from the beautiful Warden and tossed a cursory glance at the children as he moved around them towards her. Yes, the little elfling that called her mamae was there, staring up at the storyteller with a rapt expression on her exquisite little face. The assassin flinched unconsciously, not wanting to picture his Lyna in a happy scene with the little imp and some doting elf he didn't know. Damnit, she wasn't his Lyna. She was just Lyna. He swore under his breath.
As he came around the circle and approached her, Zevran was nearly overcome by a feeling of peace. Almost as if his lovely Grey Warden was exuding an aura of contentment. His step faltered, he wondered if he'd have the strength to shatter this happy place, to tear her out of it and throw her back into war on a mission where they would most likely all die horribly. The Antivan remembered Wynne's words then. She would die anyway if he couldn't, or wouldn't, save her. Her heart may break, but she'd be alive. He clenched his jaw for a moment, then resumed his approach. She did not appear to see him, though he was clearly within her sight. He scowled again, as he stood over her, arms folded across his chest. Still didn't exist for her. Goddamn wonderful. Now what?
"It seems perhaps that bloody mage and I should have come up with..." He trailed off as she tilted her head sharply to the side as soon as he spoke, a faint smirk darting across her lips. She glanced down at the simple silvery braided band she had been playing with. Lyna shrugged and slid the ring onto a finger - the ring finger on her left hand, to be exact - and murmured, "Strange shem custom. Ah well, if it makes you happy, love." Zevran stiffened, looking around sharply for whoever she was speaking to with a furious scowl on his face. He saw nothing.
He dropped into a crouch by her side, still angry for no reason he could determine - not willingly determine anyway. Staring at her, the elf tried to decide what to try first. Baby steps maybe? It was a method he usually avoided, but it had worked wonders in his original seduction of the beauty in front of him. He reached out with one hand and trailed his fingers down her arm, pleased when she shivered at his touch, even if she didn't acknowledge his presence. Step one accomplished, time for step two. Using that same hand, he repeated his motion, only this time taking her hand in his. Ahh progress! She threaded her fingers through his absently, her thumb tracing little patterns on his hand. Feeling perhaps he was on the right track, he decided to skip a few steps. Leaning forward he grasped her chin with his free hand and captured her mouth with his, shuddering slightly at the little sound she made as he swept his tongue against hers.
She tasted like honey and sunlight, smelled like wildflowers after the rain. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she pulled him close. Lyna released his hand and curled her fingers around one of the straps on his leather armor; she whimpered softly into his mouth as he wrapped his arms around her, one hand on her back, pulling her against him, the other brushing along her slender leg, exposed by the revealing cut of her Tevinter armor. Zevran felt himself shudder again at her uninhibited response, his heart beating somewhat frantically as she pulled at him. No! he thought. He didn't deserve her, but damnit she was so soft and what harm was it to just kiss her for a little longer. At least he very clearly existed in her dreamland for the moment. It was a step up.
The Antivan shifted closer to her, practically pulling her into his lap, her right leg draped over his left; he ran his hand roughly back up her smooth leg, breaking off the kiss as she threw her head back with a ragged gasp. His lips found her throat and he vaguely heard her gasp his name as his hand came to rest possessively on her upper thigh. Her fingers trailed through his hair, her thumb grazing the tip of his ear, causing him to shiver and swear in Antivan against her soft skin. Lyna giggled as he drew back slightly, attempting to catch his breath as he watched her, her head still tossed back and her eyes closed, lower lip held between her teeth. Well... it was nice to see he wasn't the only one out of breath. Maker what was wrong with him. He'd only meant to wake her up, not ravish her on this gods forsaken strip of dreamland. A strip of dreamland that he didn't bloody exist in until moments ago. Zevran felt that unfamiliar anger flare up in his chest again, but he forced it back down. Now was the time for getting her out of here, not analysis of dream states and why his chest hurt at the thought of not existing in her perfect world.
He cleared his throat, then murmured, "Ah, my dear Lyna..." He was about to say they should get out of there when her head came up, her eyes finding his. He was rather shocked to discover that while her eyes had turned that dark blue-violet color he adored, they still held that vague glassy look - not at all the eyes of a woman woken up from her demon induced daydream.
The dainty elf dropped her hand slowly, her fingers trailing along his neck to rest on his chest. Lips still rosy from his kisses, she whispered, "Zevran... I was..." And then she paused, her head tilting to one side as her eyes widened just slightly; he stared at her, one eyebrow raised, amused and surprised at the pink blush that came across her cheeks as her whole body shuddered briefly, the glazed look dropping from her violet eyes. "Oh gods..." One delicate hand flew up to touch her fingertips to her own lips, her eyes wide. What was that, the assassin wondered. Shock? No... embarrassment perhaps? That would explain the blush, certainly.
"Ah, but you blush so prettily my dear Warden. Unfortunately, time to go." Without waiting for a response, he stood in one fluid movement, his arms around her, pulling him up with her. He flipped her bow up with his foot and hooked it over her shoulder, his hand lingering briefly as he pushed her hair behind her delicately pointed ear. Maybe a little shock, he decided. She hadn't spoken yet, but she was definitely on the same page as him. She darted forward, her hand twined with his as she tried to pull him away from the area as quickly as possible.
Not fast enough, apparently. They both heard the cry, though it seemed to bypass the Warden's brain and operate her muscles directly and without consultation, for it caused her to stop abruptly as if rooted in place.
"Mamae! Where are you going?" The little elfling darted forward out of the group, all of whom were staring at the frozen rogue. The girl went to stand immediately before the shivering Lyna, her hands raised up into the air - as if she wanted to be picked up. Zevran watched as his Warden swayed slightly, her free hand lifting slightly towards the beautiful little girl. Zevran felt that anger again, this time directed at the demon. No no NO NO! He wasn't going to let it have her. He pulled sharply at her hand, which thankfully she hadn't let go of yet, causing her to stumble backwards into him. "Mamae!?" The assassin felt her shudder violently under his hands, but he would not release her. Being as gentle as possible, he slowly turned the woman to face him, not really surprised when she didn't look up at him. Curling a finger under her chin, he forced her to meet his eyes... and then the bottom fell out of his world.
Her eyes were filled with anguish. The lavender that, in passion, turned that stormy blue-violet had faded to a dull grey, barely a hint of their normal color showing. Unshed tears shimmered there, making her eyes glitter in the almost obscenely cheerful sunlight basking the area. Damnit. Not again... He cupped her face in his hands, his golden eyes soft as he gazed down at her. "Mi amora... you cannot stay here, however much you may want to..."
She closed her eyes and swallowed thickly, nodding as she leaned her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and she melted against him; inhaling the wildflower scent from her hair, Zevran closed his eyes and mentally cursed himself for letting her get too close. He knew he'd only hurt her in the end but Maker save him, he didn't know how much longer he could maintain his flimsy charade.
After a few hours, minutes, seconds, the elfling cried out again, "Mamae! Please don't go! Don't leave me..." The supposedly hardened Antivan assassin felt her shudder and grip him a little tighter for a moment before she pulled away; he almost didn't release her, but he knew they couldn't stand there in this imaginary glade forever. They stood there facing each other for a moment, not touching by no more then an inch apart, and he felt frozen as she had been. Her head was bowed and she seemed to be praying. To who, he did not know, but he was unprepared when she exploded into motion. He heard her whisper, "Cursed Fen'Harel..." before she pulled a dagger from his belt and whipped around with a wrenching cry. "You are not my da'len, foul demon!"
The child vanished as the dagger swept through her, leaving only a faint after image of large, imploring violet eyes. Half a second later, the other elves also disappeared, the woodlands with it's gentle breeze and dappled sunlight slowly dissolving like rice paper in the rain. Lyna shuddered and silently handed him back his dagger, refusing to look at him, her head low and shoulders bowed. He longed to take her in his arms, to offer the comfort he knew she needed, but he couldn't. Knew he shouldn't, and anyway, even he was aware that there was a time and a place for everything, and this yellow-toned barren stretch of fade was hardly appropriate for what he had in mind. The assassin raised his eyes from the broken archer in front of him and caught sight of Wynne and Shale, waving at him a short distance away.
Carefully slipping his carefree mask back on, he brushed the back of his knuckles along her arm and murmured, "One more bit of work, my dear, before we can rest." She nodded and silently wiped her eyes, her other hand white-knuckled on her longbow. Lyna pulled the weapon off her shoulder as she looked up towards the mage and golem and began to stride forward; Zevran thought she looked rather angry as she stepped gracefully forward, her shoulders thrown back. Quite an improvement from the aching sadness she'd exuded seconds ago. He wondered if his little elven archer was slipping on a mask of her own, but bit the thought back. Later. Now there was a demon to deal with.
As Lyna strode forward, Shale and Wynne falling into step a pace behind her, Zevran marveled at her poise. She was a broken wreck not seconds ago, and now she just looked as she always looked before a fight. Slightly flushed, but confidant and ready for battle. The Warden looked around, noting the position of her companions, and met his eyes briefly. Ah. Dull grey, not their usual brilliant lavender. Not a perfect mask, but quite good. He couldn't remember ever seeing her eyes that color. Not even when she told him about Tamlen as they sat together under the moonlight.
The four stalked towards the demon, spreading out slightly with Zevran moving around in a wide arch and Shale stepping forward to place herself slightly in front of the Warden and the elderly mage. As they approached, the demon spoke again, his words slow and chilling.
"I am so... very disappointed in you. My my you are so very sel..." Lyna cut it off as she snapped at it, "I'll hear no more of your lies, Dread Wolf. You dared use that...." Only Wynne and the demon seemed to notice her pale eyes flickered briefly to Zevran as he continued moving wide around the demon.
The demon laughed coldly and continued, "Why don't you just... rest. You've been through so very much, I'm sure you're very.. very sleepy."
The bow came up, the Dalish elf sighting down an arrow, her eyes a furious pale grey as she stared at it. "Silence Trickster." She drew her bow back ever so slightly, the wood creaking as she hissed at the Sloth demon. It was almost a prayer, Zevran thought from his position off to the side and slightly behind the demon. Albeit a prayer said by a very very angry woman who had suddenly never looked more lovely to him.
"Fly straight and do not waver;
Bend but never break;
Together we are stronger then the one."
Inclining her head slightly to indicate her companions as she said that last line, Lyna released the arrow as she exhaled, "We are the last of the Elvhenan, and never again shall we submit."
Ok that's it. Hope you liked it. I'm tapped for now. I may continue with the Lyna/Zevran storyline later though, if the muse strikes me.