Author's Note: Special thanks to my beta, 'varelishawt' on dreamwidth-dot-com. I decided to edit and add content to make the character's history and motivations more apparent earlier in the story. Since the chapters became quite long, each former "part" of the first release has now been separated into two chapters. Feedback is welcome. Thanks for reading, and thank you to all who've previously reveiwed.
Rating: Overall story is AO, some sections NSFW. This chapter rated MA. Warning for violence, and mention of past rape.
Word Count: ~5160 (original version posted to LiveJournal on 30 NOV 2010)
Summary (AU): A very stressed-out Tenniel Cousland decides to vent to Zevran when she has a bad day. He decides it can't hurt to listen... or can it?

Chapter Two

The walk back to camp was leisurely and relaxing at first. Tenniel ventured off into a small clearing at one point to pick some spearmint leaves and they talked about crossbows and throwing knives as they viewed a flock of geese flying north for the winter. She seemed to want to take as much time as possible with him, often glancing toward him, smiling and sometimes looking thoughtful as he told her about his life on the streets of Antiva. They were almost near the camp again and could hear Terri barking playfully, no doubt running around in a game of fetch with Sandal again. The Warden stopped walking and looked towards Zevran.

"Can you… could you teach me how to be an assassin?" she asked warily.

"Hmmm... The Crows like to think they have a monopoly on the technique like it is some master chef's secret recipe, but I am here with you now. So, I will teach you and tweak their noses a bit more. And it will be fun – yes, I will make it fun," he replied with a mischievous grin.

"Great! I am looking forward to this. We probably won't be able to continue on the road until tomorrow morning, after all. Wynne said it would take at least half a day for Alistair's femur to be healed enough for him to withstand a ride in Bodahn's wagon, so this will be a good way to pass the time."

"I could think of more…exciting ways to pass the time, you know."

Tenniel laughed at his remark, wondering if he would always look for an opportunity to flirt with her. "I bet you have quite a lot of experience in that regard. With women, I mean. And from the way you were teasing poor Alistair last week, I would guess men, too." They resumed walking at a slow pace.

"Sí, this is true. You already know my only rule about love-making..."

"Oh, yes. Something along the lines of 'it must be enjoyable', right?"

"Of course. But… is that a problem for you?" Zevran was remembering how closed-minded some Fereldans seemed. He needed to find out if the Warden would object to it now, before things got even more complicated. This was a problem in and of itself. Why was this woman being so difficult, and why did she make him feel so confused? Any other woman, lady or not, he would have already bedded her within two days. She was the one who had responded to his comments at their first meeting with a flirtatious 'bed-warming might be nice'. Here it was almost two weeks since his life had been spared - and still, no bed-warming. And yet, she was obviously attracted to him.

He enjoyed talking to Tenniel and sharing his stories with her, but it was almost as if she was really trying to get to know him and not simply being polite or courteous like the way she treated Wynne and the others. It was almost disturbing. Why would anyone want to get to know me better? I am a killer. Surely she isn't interested in more than just a casual dalliance while we are traveling around the country…

Zevran could tell there was something interesting going on. Yes, there was no doubt that Tenniel was attracted to him. She made that abundantly clear with the way she always made it a point to have him in her party whenever they were fighting and she asked that he place his tent next to hers every night with some pretense about her 'not wanting to have to walk across camp to wake him for his turn at the watch'. He had caught the Warden staring at him when she didn't think he was paying attention, and then when he made eyes at her, she would always retreat with a shy little smile.

"No, of course not. You're very handsome, and I know you've done a lot. I'm sure being so attractive must have helped with some of your assassin jobs, right?" She laughed again as she hopped over a small creek bed.

"So, the fact that I've bedded both men and women really doesn't bother you?"

"No, not at all. Should it?"

"No, it's nothing. It's just… you're a better person than most around here."

"Thanks, I think. But Zevran…?"

"Hmm….?"

"I'm not one of your missions. You're not a Crow, you don't ever have to do those things anymore, and I… I don't want you to… become intimate with me just because you feel you have to."

"And what is that supposed to mean? Why would I not want to ravish you, my beautiful Warden?"

"Oh, bother. Here we go again with the talk about me being beautiful. You don't have to say things like that, Zevran."

"Say what? It is the truth. Do you truly not realize how lovely you are?"

"Please. Stop. I know I'm not that bad to look at, but I've also been through a lot and I'm not some beautiful princess. I really do like traveling with you and you're a great fighter, and I meant what I said about you being a friend. So, please, you don't have to say things like that, not with me. Just don't." She started walking faster, not wanting to see his teasing eyes.

The Antivan wasn't about to end the conversation on that note, however. He sped up and stepped in front of Tenniel, grabbing her arm and making her flinch for a moment. That reaction confirmed his suspicions. She gave him a questioning look and he softened his grip on her arm.

"If I want to say you're beautiful, I will say it." Zevran looked into her eyes and experienced a strange feeling again. This Warden, the same woman who could strike down a dozen monsters, looked so vulnerable and fragile at that moment. He touched her face and spoke consolingly to her. "Who lied and said you weren't beautiful, Tenniel?"

She flinched again and quickly moved her face away from his touch. Tenniel tried to avoid his gaze and push past him, but he would not release her arm. "I… I don't want to talk about this," she told him softly but firmly.

"Oh? I think you need to talk about this. I am your friend, remember?" He needed her to trust him.

Tenniel sighed and turned her almost-tearful green eyes toward him at last. "Do you really want to know? I figured you were the type to just bed someone and be done… no strings attached. Why do you care about it?" It seemed the entire forest suddenly went quiet.

So she understands that much about me, at least. Now it was his turn to feel uncertain again. Why does she always make me feel so off-balance, like I'm some green recruit who cannot stay on my feet when blocking a blade? He really wasn't sure why he cared so much about this.

But he was past the point of retreating, so he pressed her further. "I care because you are so defensive all of a sudden. What is it you said last week when we were all wondering why you bothered to try and befriend the qunari…? 'Should I not care about what my fellow comrades-in arms are feeling? I need to know that the people who are fighting alongside me are at their best.' So, yes, I really do want to know." He threw Tenniel's own words back at her and saw her look of bewilderment. The woman shook off his grasp and crossed her arms, but she didn't try to walk away this time.

The Warden stepped back and leaned against a tree near the trail, staring at him for a few moments. Then she took a deep breath and it was his turn to listen to a story for once. He knew that being a noble was not just about easy living and luxuries all the time, but her story pained him to the point of anger. At sixteen, she had been betrayed by one of her brother's friends who had given her tainted wine at a dinner and had his way with her when she was unconscious…

She awoke in darkness, her head hurting immensely as she got up from the bed and gingerly stepped across her room, feeling around for the door. Once she opened it enough to allow the hallway lamps to illuminate the inside, she fumbled around for a torch and lit it against the lamp outside before ducking back in to light the fireplace and a few lamps. She shivered and rubbed the sleeves of her elaborately brocaded dress. The blue, gold and maroon ensemble of silk, linen and velvet was rich and decadent, but it did little to warm her up.

Tenniel felt groggy, cold and sore. She didn't understand why there was a throbbing pain between her legs and she wondered where her smallclothes had disappeared to. The last thing she remembered was feeling extremely tired after drinking a glass of wine as the entire party took turns toasting and well-wishing her brother and his new bride. Tenniel remembered excusing herself and staggering to her room, leaning against the wall for support as she stumbled along until she finally made it to her bed. After that, everything was just blank.

She wasn't sure what to do. The castle was quiet, and it was the middle of the night. So she turned on the tap to start a bath and left her room in search of Terri. He was always warm, and he always liked it when she let him sleep in her bed.

Several minutes later, Terri whined and put his paws over the side of the tub as she washed herself again for the fourth time. Her heart was racing, and she felt scared for the first time in her own locked bedroom. Even more scared than the time she had gone wolf-hunting with Walter and Roland and had to fight with them against a starving pack of wild animals. Something had happened to her last night, and she knew she would be forever different because of it. There had been blood between her legs, and her menses weren't due for another two weeks. There was a sticky spot on her dress that Terri had sniffed suspiciously and pawed at after she took the offending garment off and threw it on the floor. And she was starting to remember things. Like seeing Robert Wulf's blurry face, and shrugging him off when he offered to help her to her room. Did he do this to me?

She started shaking uncontrollably, and tears were running down her face. Tenniel felt weak and tired and her stomach was hurting, cramping up… She tasted something like warm metal in the back of her throat, swallowed once and then bent over the stone tub to retch in a nearby bucket. This was awful. She felt sick and confused, and she felt too ashamed to talk to anyone else about it.

Moments later, she changed the sheets on her bed and curled up against Terri's warm fur. He put one of his paws against her back, trying to comfort his mistress as her silent and hot tears fell against him. She couldn't fall asleep, so instead, she talked to her dog.

"He made me his prey, Terri."

The dog grumbled in response, and she squeezed her eyes shut, listening with her inner voice. Sometimes she could hear what he was thinking. It was a secret they shared. He taught her how to be calm and listen to the sounds prey made in the forest, and he had taught her what the color of a lie looked like, since her nose couldn't smell them like he could.

"STICK-MAN LIKE FEMALES WITH LONG YELLOW FUR. YOU ARE FAVORITE PREY. BE PRICKLY PREY. STICK-MAN NOT HUNT YOU AGAIN." He sent her an image of a hated porcupine filling his mouth with barbs, reminding her of how they had first met.

"I hate him. I'm scared, and I want to kill him." She replied, thinking about the events of the past week. Tenniel had spent time with her brother's friends as they travelled around Highever. Although she often associated with them, she usually did it while training and practicing with the knights and other fighters and she always wore her armor and helm. Last week, her mother had insisted that she start wearing a dress whenever she was in the castle, and when she entered the main receiving hall that afternoon, she received lots of stares.

Robert had nudged her brother with his elbow. "Who is that buxom wench? You been holding out on me, eh?"

Fergus slapped him in the back of the head and the man spilled some of his ale. "That's my little sister, you dolt. Show some respect!"

The tall, thin man stammered and his eyes widened yet again. "What? That's Tenniel? Andraste's tears, man. Blimey! She's definitely… err… ah, she's grown up quite a bit."

"She's still only sixteen. Don't get any ideas, you bastard!" Marcel punched his half-brother in the arm good-naturedly while Tenniel watched the exchange with a puzzled look.

"Hahaha, you know what they say about bringing 'em young." Robert snickered deviously. The sound made her skin crawl.

Marcel scratched his head and grimaced at Robert. "No, and I don't think I want to know what they say, brother. Is that why you've taken a fancy to elves lately?"

"Ah, I don't think I want to hear this." Fergus shook his head and rolled his eyes at his two friends.

Robert laughed again, staring lewdly at Tenniel. "By the Maker! Her bosom's ten times the size of any elf's. You sure she doesn't have a pup under that dress?"

"Hey… I'm right here, you know. You drunken arse." Tenniel crossed her arms over her chest and glared angrily at the inebriated trio.

"Such language! Come now, sister. You must ignore the boorish behavior of these men while they're indulging in spirits. How's about you go meet up with Oriana in the guestroom and have a look at that flower arrangement they sent us from the Tower again? And you look lovely, by the way." Fergus smiled up at her and offered his hand.

"Uh, no thanks. Maybe later. Thank you for the offer, Fergus." Tenniel smiled back and squeezed his hand lightly. "I just came to deliver a message anyway. Father's asking for you. He wants you to look over some documents you have to sign tomorrow. I'll see you all later."

She felt Robert watching her as she left the room.

The Teyrn and Teyrna had invited all of Fergus's friends over for a wedding ball after he and Oriana were married. Her mother had insisted that Terri stay in the stables with the other dogs during the party because she didn't want to hear any barking that night. Most of the guards were still in the castle, but Roland and several other knights had been given time off to celebrate in town. While everyone's thoughts were focused elsewhere, she had been hunted.

"I'm scared, Terri. I don't know what to do." She was used to being the outcast, the one her mother constantly complained about because she wasn't acting ladylike enough or she didn't volunteer at the Chantry enough. Tenniel felt most comfortable when she was away from her family, hunting or training in the countryside, far removed from their demands and criticism. In her mind, this incident had proven once again that she was a failure. She felt that they wouldn't understand if she tried to explain what happened; that they would blame her and say it was somehow her fault for getting sullied by that man. So, she decided that she would never tell them anything about what had happened to her that night.

"WE HUNT HIM. WE MAKE HUNTER OUR PREY." Terri replied. An image of him biting into the jugular of a black wolf flashed in her mind. He bit down harder as its hot blood gushed out, shaking the creature and snapping its neck before it could take down any of the plump sheep he was watching. "I WATCH. WE GIVE HIM PAIN."

"Yes, we'll hunt him. I can't let him get away with this. I'm not weak. He hurt me, and he's gonna pay."

She remembered Robert staring at her during the entire ceremony in the chapel, and throughout dinner as well. Even Emily, the tow-headed elven kitchen maid, had noticed it while she was waiting on the dinner guests, and whispered in Tenniel's ear at one point.

"Mind that Robert, m'lady. He's the one who forced himself on my sister Cathy, and a few others I know about as well. Don't let him get alone with you…"

"What? Wait!" She had wanted to ask Emily some more questions, but another guest had gestured for his glass to be refilled, and she had already turned away.

"I'm going to kill that bastard, Terri. He won't be able to hurt me again." She squeezed closer to her dog. Robert had stolen something from her, something she was supposed to share only with someone of her choosing, when she was ready. Regina was the one who had cautioned her about the ways of men, since she was training with soldiers who were a decade or two older than her. Wearing armor most of the time and trying to look as plain and inconspicuous as possible still hadn't saved her from this outrage. "He can't give me back what he stole. I have to kill him."

Terri sent her an impression of him following after Robert's dark green leather boots, the bitter tang of the rolled sticks of burning tobacco he often smoked stinging his nose. Suddenly, he lunged and she watched with satisfaction as the man's head cracked against the flagstones, his hot blood spilling across the cool stone floor after the dog crunched through the bones in his neck. The man twitched violently but finally went still after more blood sprayed up across the mabari's field of vision and against the wall. "YOU REST. I WATCH. BAD STICK-MAN NOT HURT YOU AGAIN. WE HUNT SOON."

They hunted very soon. The next week, she had a long talk with Emily, the kitchen maid.

"I'm so sorry m'lady. He made me do it. He said he'd take my youngest sister if I didn't put the herbs in your wine that night. I'm sorry, Lady Tenniel. Did he… did he hurt you?"

Tenniel felt numb; the only thing motivating her to get out of bed every day had been the thought of slamming her blade into that man's heart. Even Roland had asked her why she seemed to be in a funk. She shrugged his questions off, stating that she was just bored and eager to get out of the castle. When she learned that the kitchen elf had been forced to assist Robert, she didn't even bat an eyelash. The girl was just another one of his victims, after all.

"No, he didn't hurt me," she lied. "But I want to make sure he doesn't hurt me… or your little sister. Or anybody else, not ever again. Do you trust me?"

"Yes, yes, of course, m'lady. What do you need me to do?"

"I'm going on a hunt, and I need to set a trap…"

That evening, she was in an uncharacteristically amiable mood, chatting with her mother, father and brother in the atrium as they discussed preparations for their travel to Orlais in a few weeks.

"Hey, did you hear that?" She asked, tilting her head slightly.

"Hear what?" Bryce asked, curious.

"I don't know… something sounded strange, like someone was crying for help." She started walking towards the dining room.

"In this castle? What the bloody hell!" They all started running as they heard someone whimpering in pain.

Fergus ran right into Robert Wulf as they jogged towards the kitchen hallway. The man's clothes were in disarray, and an elf maiden was lying on the floor, her face bloodied and her garments ripped.

Tenniel fetched Nan to help the girl and smiled as she heard her father and brother smack the man around and order him off the premises and out of Highever by the end of the week. Time to hunt.

She shot him in the shoulder with an arrow coated in concentrated deathroot extract as soon as she spotted him on the path towards town. Panicking, he tried to run away, and that's when she sent Terri after him. The mabari chased the confused man deeper into the forest and away from town. Tenniel knew the forest hunting trails like the back of her hand, and she felt a keen sense of anticipation as she stalked her quarry in the deep woods. Soon she spotted him, dirty and bedraggled as he tried to cross a small muddy stream. Unfortunately for him, Terri's jaws were clamped around his shin and the man screamed in pain as he tried to kick the dog away with his free leg, to no avail.

"Please! Help me!" he cried.

Tenniel reached for her blade and looked down at the man lying there, mewling pathetically. She felt an icy thrill run through her body as she slowly took off her helm, and watched the shock in his eyes turn to terror as she swung her blade around menacingly.

"It's you! Hey, you've got to help me up. Nothing happened last week. Come on, you're not that good-looking; no one will want you if you ruin your prospects by telling anyone that I… that I… took you."He started to panic again as she continued to stare at him with her dead-eye look, the one she usually reserved for idiot adolescent boys twice her size who tried to taunt her when she entered the festival contests. "No, please! Maker, no! I'm so sorry… please, have mercy. Please, please… don't!" Robert begged for his life.

She thrust her blade into his crotch and listened to his horrified, high-pitched scream as he tried to curl into a ball.

"No mercy for you. You never gave me a choice. You never gave any of us a choice. Die, you filthy fucking piece of trash. Die like the bastard you are." She yanked her sword free and spat on him.

Terri bit down hard and severed the man's shinbone. The mabari went into a frenzy, crunching through bone and tendon, ripping and tearing the flesh of the man who had dared to hurt his mistress. She finally silenced the man's screams by stabbing him in the heart, grunting with satisfaction as she thrust her blade through to his spine. His death gave her little contentment, but she found that she liked the feel of her blade parting the flesh of a man, knowing that his life was in her hands. She had killed plenty of bears, wolves, deer and other game animals, but this was the first human life she took. And she knew it would not be the last.

Tenniel sat down on a log and looked at the corpse for a long while before kicking the shredded bits of flesh and cloth over and pulling her arrow from its neck. Her faithful companion gave a long howl as she walked away, and they both watched as a lone, half-starved wolf gave an answering call and appeared on the other side of the gulley, looking down at the fresh meat.

Days later, she expressed surprise when her father reported the mayor's forest patrol had found the remnants of Robert Wulf's corpse.

No one seemed to show much sorrow or dismay at the man's memorial service. She overheard Marcel and Fergus talking as his remains burned on a pyre. "So much for bringing 'em young, eh?"

Zevran looked at Tenniel as she shrugged nonchalantly and finished her tale, but he wasn't fooled by her attitude. He knew all too well about carrying memories of the past around. He remembered his half-joking remark to her a few nights ago when he told her to 'ignore the scars, and maybe they'll go away' and winced as he realized she also had metaphorical scars of her own that she was trying to ignore.

The Warden shrugged again. "And he said I wasn't very good looking, so I shouldn't hurt my chances at a good match by telling anybody what he did. I know now that he was just being hurtful and trying to keep from getting into trouble for what he did to me… " And of course, he was begging for his life shortly afterwards.

Everyone else assumed that the noble had been mauled by wolves. Of course, she felt guilty and conflicted about it, so she tried to be the dutiful daughter and agreed to court another noble a few months later. That turned out to be a disaster. When Tenniel finished telling him about Lucien, Zevran couldn't help but laugh aloud.

"Dear Maker! What a fool man! Don't you realize what a buffoon that Orlesian was? In Antiva, your body would make noble princes throw jewelry and flowers at your feet and pay a king's ransom to get their hands on those gorgeous… melons." He grinned lasciviously at her bodice for a moment before returning his gaze back to her face. "But never by force, and anyone who would try to belittle you afterwards is no man at all."

That wasn't all, though. She renewed her determination to take up fighting because she felt so angry and disappointed and wanted to get even. At first, she had casual dalliances with some of the more discreet guards and even some servants in her castle. But as the years went by and it became clear that she really was a good fighter and had earned their trust and respect, she didn't want to keep doing things like that in secret, no matter how much she actually liked it. Tenniel paused and blushed when she admitted that.

"And why not? It has been five years since you were betrothed. Surely there were some who were as entranced by your company as I am?" Zevran asked quietly.

She laughed and smiled at him again. "Perhaps… but I was their leader. I learned the hard way, that I shouldn't become emotionally attached to someone I had to give orders to. And I… I had other reasons, other… responsibilities. Let's save that story for another time."

"Fair enough." he replied, satisfied for the time being. "As long as you're not going to lead a life of self-denial and forgo the pleasures of the flesh at the same time you're trying to save us from the blight. Traveling around with one chantry fanatic is quite enough. A body needs some stress relief now and again, you know."

Tenniel giggled and grabbed his arm. "No worries of that happening. Just because I didn't have affairs with my soldiers, doesn't mean I stopped having sex. A couple years ago, I was assigned to guard a brothel and became good friends with the proprietress. We'll definitely have to visit the Pearl when we get to Denerim. You'd like it there."

"Oh? Does this friend give discounts?" They both laughed at his outrageous comment.

Zevran was delighted to hear that the Warden hadn't let her first horrible experience deaden her feelings about lovemaking in general. He was reminded of the first time he met Rinna at a tavern after one job, offering to buy him a drink with the money she took from some shem's corpse that she had gutted. The same shem who had raped her during an earlier job… No, I will not think of her now.

"But I'm not one of your soldiers, Tenniel. And I was not joking when I said you were a deadly sex goddess. I am quite sure you have had countless others dreaming about you besides me."

"You… what? Oh, sweet Andraste. Thanks, but you're crazy. You're the one who's beautiful." She lowered her voice as Zevran stepped closer to her.

"There's no need to thank…"

Tenniel raised her eyebrows, about to remind him of his earlier promise.

He now understood what it was about her that was keeping him so off-balance. Tenniel kept all of her secret fears and worries buried deep inside, masking her true feelings by being unusually thoughtful and polite. So of course, everyone seemed to like her. But did anyone really know her? She was damaged goods, just like he was. Just like Rinna was. Except this woman, this Warden from a barbaric country with such terrible problems wasn't just another victim.

She was a fighter, a born leader, and very deadly. And very vulnerable, skirting the razor's edge between obsession and insanity. Had she always tried to do everything so perfectly? He wondered if she had always been driven to be the best fighter, the best general, the best… perfect, polite and proper something, or if it was a more recent personality trait. He didn't want her to be polite with him, he wanted her to be raw and passionate and out of control. Even strong leaders needed someone to talk to, Zevran thought. He deduced that there was much more to her story than she was able to tell in those brief moments, and he wanted to be the one she confided in and relied on, so much so that she would never send him away.

The elf sighed and moved towards her again, putting his arm around her waist and leaning the other against the tree behind her back. "Fine. Let's revise that agreement, shall we? I will promise to accept your thanks if you promise to accept my compliments and start to realize that you really are a beautiful woman, Tenniel."

"I… I can't promise you that. I mean, I know I'm not really bad-looking. But well… you know. Achh! All right, all right, I promise, I will try." She slowly reached up to touch his face, tracing his tattoo very softly with her thumb as she wondered what miracle had brought this skilled, attractive, and very understanding man to her. Tenniel closed her eyes and concentrated, seeing the soothing blue and green colors that cooled the red and black bits of coiled rage she always felt in the pit of her gut. Terri trusted this man. He smelled safe and warm and his words were true. So she would trust him as well.

"Fine, that will have to be enough, then. For now." The former Crow closed his eyes for a moment and rested his head against her hand. This is going to be a double-edged sword, Zevran. You cannot pretend with this one. She sees through to the heart you're not supposed to have.