A/N: Zevran is so adorable! Fight scene, as promised.

Chapter 3: Dodging

Kiera

I felt Zevran tense up next to me, and I realised that the pub had gone silent. I looked up to find that the taphouse was now emptied of its customers, replaced by short figures that looked vaguely dangerous. Until I noticed the weapons. The pointy bits were dangerous.

Also, the Crows certainly liked hiring elves.

I struggled to clear my head of the wool that the alcohol had gathered; my own thoughts were muffled, as was my hearing. I barely avoided being skewered by a thrown knife, and I found myself diving under the table, drawing my blades with a frustrated grunt. Seems that I wasn't quite used to their new places on my sides.

Zevran really should not have plied me with quite so many glasses—but then, I distinctly remembered that I had ordered the rounds; so perhaps I should not blame him quite so much. There was fighting at hand.

The woman sought me out—and she was deft, lightning quick with her swipes at my stomach. Stepping back, I casted haste on both Zevran and myself—and I saw the assassin's eyes widen slightly. Yes, I was a mage. Tough luck.

My fist collided with her jaw, and grabbing her slight figure swiftly, I slammed her onto a table, breaking it under us. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Zevran had already dispatched three men while I was dealing with their leader.

The woman had fainted as we crashed onto the floor, but I casted a sleep spell on her, just to be sure.

The other assassins came for me, their blades glinting dangerously—understanding that Zevran would stop resisting once I was caught, not to mention that I appeared to be the lesser skilled target. Zev had just drawn his blade from the body of yet another assassin, and was alarmed that I was surrounded. Sure enough, only two out of the four who attacked me fell dead from my stabs, whilst the rest disarmed me with ease—my blades were knocked from my hand—as they stepped closer.

Not that I was completely helpless, of course.

It took them a moment to realise that they were on fire, and panicking, they retreated hastily, out of the door. I suppose that they must not have dealt with mages much, to be scared off by a spell as gentle as that. I would have tried frost, but my concentration was sadly lacking, so flames it was.

We realised that they had left a lone male, who had slipped behind the counter while Zevran and I were preoccupied. Something—I think that it was the alcohol—chose that moment to hit my brain, and in an instant I felt woozy. My knees were weak.

My companion raised his eyebrows at me as I sat, slightly winded, on a nearby chair. My head was filled with the sound of my own rushing blood. Dizzy.

Zevran

"You might as well come out. We do not wish to harm an unarmed man." I called as I approached the area where the elf crouched. The assassin's blades had been knocked to the floor just previously, and I was more concerned for the well-being of my bella than to be quite so focused on delivering death to this elf. She seemed unwell.

To my surprise, the boy sprang upon me with forks, jabbing the sharp prongs at me, doing his best to rake at my unprotected face. In the confusion we fell, wrestling to the ground. He was a mere child, barely of age but such ferocity was as yet, unseen in any a Crow. We were taught to always fight with a dispassionate demeanour.

He had to be fighting for something else. Someone else, I assume. Perhaps it was for his leader, who now lay unmoving on the floor, courtesy of a certain battle goddess.

The forks he wielded like the deadly blades, the 'thuds' they made as they struck the wooden floor were very real, and these inched ever closer to more sensitive areas of my body. Parts that were very important, especially once I got my bella intoxicated.

It was highly uncharacteristic for me to be caught off guard, or pinned to the ground in such an intimate combat— but I did my best to keep him off me—all the while trying not to kill him. The child deserved some leeway, being sent into battle quite as early as this. Finally, I landed a kick to the boy's groin, and I shoved him off me. Fighting dirty was always an option, especially when one's manhood was under threat from steel crockery.

xOxOx

Kiera

I awoke in bed, suffocated by the sheets, struggling my way from under them was almost impossible. I waved my arms, fighting the covers. I remember waking like this, buried under bedclothes. Waking up next to him.

I panicked, and threw the cloths from the bed. Finally, I thought— I can breathe. This was a split second before I fell off the bed, heavily, onto a figure which had the most delicious smell of rain and wine and spices. I liked that smell—it chased away all other memories, of the musky scent, of wood, of pine that I had come to associate with… someone that I thought I'd left behind.

A low chuckle came from the form, and I felt arms slipping around me, holding me close. Of course, it was Zevran. I muttered an apology in that uncomfortable position, mostly because I could not move my arms.

"So my bella, you've finally resisted your better nature and have come to ravish me in the dark of the night?"

His words made me laugh, it was so typical of him—but I knew that we were now in a very compromising position. Yet I continued speaking. I had to be some kind of stupid.

"No, unfortunately. When I do find the courage to ravish you, Zev—it will be under an endless night sky, with the sound of waves in the distance, nothing but the light of a nearby campfire to illuminate our vigorous love-making—which will last till dawn." He seemed genuinely shocked, speechless at my words. And I knew just how shameless I sounded.

I pulled away, and to my relief, he allowed me to sit up next to him on the very thin mattress. My head ached.

"Now that—is the drink talking." He mused, careful not to touch me as he too sat upright. "Something the matter?"

I shook my head. I had dreamt of Ferelden—the events—still haunted me. I didn't want to talk about it.

It was another reason to avoid the drink. That taste—somehow, had triggered fears, thoughts, doubts—voices that I had never expected. "How did we get back here?"

"We walked back here, in a fashion. The assassins have been dispatched, and the Crows will know that their efforts are futile. I will not wish their fates upon anyone when their cell master finds out about their failure." His voice was dry, and faintly mocking.

I vaguely remembered tottering back to Lazarus's tavern. But that was all I remembered. I wondered if Zevran had changed my clothes for me. I guess… I didn't want to know. We sat there in the dark, listening to sound of our breathing. Zevran was the first to break that silence.

"You missed a most epic fight, my bella."

"Mmm?" I turned, trying to see him in the pitch blackness. He apparently could see me. Elves had the upper hand in unlit surroundings.

"It was first, even for me, the deadliest dual wielding that I have ever seen—"

Zevran said that he was the best amongst the Crows. For him to call it deadly… "Dual-wielding?"

He continued with a decided air. "Yes, it was—how do you say it—enlightening."

"What about it? Did he get you? Are you injured?" I moved to conjure a flame, to check on his wounds, when his cool hands grasped mine, holding them tenderly. I hastily cancelled the spell—remembering the last time someone had gotten burnt by doing the same.

Zev's voice was quiet, sombre, even. "I am fine, my bella. The prongs did not get me."

"Prongs?" This had to be some new weapon I had not seen, as of yet. Interesting.

"I did not mention it? My opponent improvised with forks." That note of humour, so delicate in his voice—set me off again. This time, he joined in. That laughter filled me with a nice, warm feeling. Like I was safe.

"How—simply—ingenious—however did you evade his stabs— and— thrusts?" I was giggling like a maniac; barely getting enough air in my lungs.

"Ah, I am a champion dancer my bella, shall I demonstrate my elegant moves? One only has to know when to twist the respective halves of the body—firmly and rhythmically." His face was very close to mine now, and I felt his alcohol-scented breath—enthralling and intoxicating.

I retreated back to my bed, tunnelling under the sheets—this was too much. Too soon.

"Er… Per—haps in the morning, Zevran."

The heaving sigh did not escape my notice. "Whenever you're ready, my bella."

P.S.: By the end of this week, I think I shall be free! For a while, at the very least. Hope you liked this chapter! Please leave a review kay? XD