"What she said was always strange. It had happened long ago. It seemed insignificant. And yet it was something you remembered forever. The words as well as the story. The voice as much as the words."
-Marguerite Duras

Old Friend

He turned to her a smile, it played at the corners of his lips, his face set with more determination than she remembered. "Albert looks well. Or... what did I hear you calling him?"

"Thib." The word comes out a little softer, the dagger hanging limply in the air between them.

"I liked Albert better, but I see your tastes have changed." His smile widens, his white teeth peeping out.

"It took you a long time-"

"To find you? No, no. I knew where you were from the beginning. You left so quickly, but I saw you. The dock hands noticed what ship you boarded. At the very least, I had an idea." His eyes were saying give me credit, but his hand reached up between them, he took the weapon from her.

"Well, you certainly waited a long time!"How do you trick an assassin? You don't. She was trying to be flippant, but her heart was still racing. Maybe the king had sent him to find her and finish her off. Where does his loyalty lie now?

Thibault jumped off the bed and woofed at her gently, trying to tell her it was alright, he settled for snuffling at her hand before she reached down to pat him. "I don't know what to say. It's been two years." What if the rumors were true?

He shrugged, "Leliana misses you."

"Then she should come back to Orlais. She could visit me." She hears her voice coming out harsh, this wasn't the way you were supposed to treat your friends.

"I think she likes the part of courier and bard far too much in Ferelden's court." Zevran laughs, eyes her, the beginning of a story obvious on his tongue, but he stops.

Don't. Be pleasant. This time it is her mother's voice in her head, forcing her hand. "H-how are you? I hope you are well."

Zevran always cut to the heart of the matter with her, even though he loved pleasantries and banter, knew when she was using it to parry the truth. "When you left, he asked. He went looking. All those things ex-lovers do. Or are supposed to do. I chose not to tell him. I always wondered, why else would you leave? Did you have your heart set on him and the throne? Morrigan said you didn't."

The past is vivid in the caress of his voice, perhaps he is a spirit come to seduce her memories, "No. I don't want it. Didn't." Just to be clear.

He brings two chairs over, sits down. His armor is different, a deep green and black with silver buckles that resemble stylized mabari. She considers it, hands clamped behind her back.

"Sit."

She does. Leg crossed, hands clasped in her lap.

"What would you have done if I hadn't come to find you? You wouldn't have come back, I know this. So tell me... how is Orlais?"

"I have a few friends, it took me a long time. I learned Orlesian in Ferelden so they could barely understand a word I said! Val Royeaux is beautiful, I never imagined it could be so. I came here expecting something else entirely." Glancing down at her boots, then back up she looks at him and is a hardly surprised to see that he is wearing Antivan leather. Maybe he had been traveling.

"No lovers?"

"Not exactly." Flushing fiercely, she is forced to look up as he laughs.

"No one quiet so pretty as me?" He shrugs, flips his hair, winks.

Must be calm, must be careful. She uncrosses her legs, licks her lips, "Zevran, why are you here? You could have come much sooner."

"I was out and about. Maybe I was looking for Grey Wardens." His smile turns pointed, she shifts under his gaze. She wasn't going to get any information from him this way.

It's almost to much to admit it to herself. She wanted her mind to still, the room to stop half-heartily spinning. Her voice raises up, cracking,"He sent you, didn't he?"

"After two years? He's given up, bella. I was looking for warden recruits. The King is in a fervor to rebuild everything! The castle is shining with his glory, the bards are giving him a title and Ferelden is becoming powerful, refined...all those words one would use for Antiva or Orlais."

"Mmm." Getting up and taking her dagger back from him, she heads out down to the foyer. If he wasn't going to inform her as to why he was in Orlais she wasn't going to waste time with him. Gathering up the soft shelled box she removes the dress from the wrapping. Edmée called the hue 'Seheron' green when Persia looked over the swatches with her. It was this or 'Ferelden Racing', but it didn't seem to bring out the color in her eyes and she didn't think she wanted to be reminded of the place any more than she had to be.

"A lovely color, to be sure." Zevran had followed her, his steps soundless.

"I thought so, I have a party to attend tonight." She knew it for a mistake as soon as she said it, but as she flashes him a bright smile she finds herself begging: Please, don't invite yourself.

Like most assassins and especially those who have known their mark for a long time, he quirks an eyebrow and cocks his head to the side, "I have a mind to follow you."

There is no getting out of it. He'd come along no matter what she'd say.