Honor Among Thieves
"Come and get it," Alistair's voice carried throughout the camp. Alyssa peered into the cook pot at a bubbling gray mass. Pinching the bridge of her nose she reminded herself, it's that or it's nothing. Alistair handed her a bowl with a smile. "Dig in."
"Thanks," she said. As the others were gathering around and giving the meal similar dubious looks, she thought about their prisoner. The assassin had been tied up since that afternoon. Now the sky was dark and full of stars and she still had no idea what to do with him. Anytime someone had tried to kill her, she just ran. As a Grey Warden she didn't have that option. In hindsight, taking the assassin prisoner seemed like an idiotic idea. Too late now. So far he hadn't tried to escape. Since the ambush he hadn't spoken or anything. He just followed all tied up without a single complaint. Alyssa frowned, "Did Zevran get something to eat yet?"
"Who?" Alistair asked.
"The elf we tied up this afternoon."
Alistair hooked a thumb, "Probably not. He's in the back of Bodahn's cart all done up like a Saturnalia gift. I dunno if he's plotting or sulking and frankly, I don't care. I still don't know why you dragged him with us."
She sighed, "Me neither." The Wardens looked at each other for a moment. Alyssa frowned, "What was I supposed to do? Gut him or leave him for the, uh, Crows?" She smiled weakly at the unintended pun.
"He's an assassin! He tried to kill us, remember that?" Alistair said.
"Vividly." She looked over at the elf. Zevran was leaning against a burlap bag with his legs stretched out in front of him. Ashfur had wandered over to give him a quick sniff. The dog approached him, haunches low to the ground. When the elf turned his head toward him, Ashfur whined and ducked away. After a moment he settled down a couple of feet from the cart, resting his head on his paws.
"Being hunted is a terrifying thing. No one should have to endure that." Alistair's expression softened. He squeezed her arm and handed her an extra bowl. She smiled, "You're the best."
"I know." He smiled.
When she approached Bodahn's cart, the assassin's gold eyes locked with hers. A shiver ran down her back. "I thought you might be hungry," Alyssa said.
He smirked and lifted his bound hands as far as they would go.
"Oh. Right." She bit her lip. Several moments crawled by causing a hot prickle to break out over her skin. "Scoot over." Zevran swung his legs around, letting them dangle over the edge of the cart as Alyssa hoisted herself up next to him. She kept one bowl in hand and the other at her side.
The assassin raised an eye brow when she offered a spoonful of stew.
"Deal with it or starve. I don't care which," her eyes narrowed. The prickling sensation intensified to a flush of heat under her robes. It was official. She had lost her damn mind.
Zevran looked at her askance with a smirk. To his credit he kept quiet and closed his lips over the spoon without as much as a lurid glance. The sudden grimace that followed confirmed her initial evaluation of dinner. "Did you make this?" was all he asked.
"Not even on my worst day."
He chuckled, a warm rumbling sound in his chest. She lifted another spoonful for him, which he accepted gracefully. This was the first time Alyssa was able to really look at the elf. His eyes were almond shaped. Two small braids tucked behind his ears gathered his blonde hair back from his face, on the right side of which rode three curving tattoos running from his eye to his chin. His features were exotic and strong, highlighted by olive colored skin. The curve of his jaw line softened at the neck.
Alyssa must have been lost in thought because when Zevran spoke she felt herself start at the sound, "Do I frighten you?"
Think of something clever, quick. "I was thinking we should have gagged you as well." Idiot.
"Well, aren't you the vicious little minx." He grinned. Needle sharp canines glittered in the low light.
"If I were truly vicious you'd fit in this bowl," her lip curled up into a snarl. "You want the rest? Shut up."
He winced. "I'll take my chances. I'm not even sure what that is."
She shrugged. "Alistair said it was lamb. Of course, I don't remember lamb being grey."
"Or rubbery?"
"Or greasy."
"Well, if you haven't had any yet I wouldn't advise 'digging in' as it were." He nodded to the bowl opposite her. "This could be considered cruel and unusual punishment, you know."
"Not much choice. It's this or it's nothing." Another silence settled in. The Warden shifted on the cart, feeling the hard wood pressing into her rump and irritating her tail bone. First shift would begin soon while the others got some rest. She wondered who would watch Zevran. Where would he sleep? How would he sleep? Then she remembered no one bothered to see to his wounds if he had any. She put the bowl down, "I should have asked before if you needed healing."
"Why would you ask at all? I am a prisoner," Zevran said.
"We're not monsters. We're still going to treat you like a huma…um, like a person. Are you hurt?"
"My shoulder is probably dislocated and these ropes are quite tight."
They looked at each other. Brown eyes locked with gold. Ashfur started to growl when Alyssa reached to loosen the rope. "Shhh," she soothed. "He can't stay tied up forever."
Zevran licked his lips. "Three days, sixteen hours and forty-five minutes is my record."
Knots started falling loose under her hands. "I liked you better with your mouth full." As soon as the words left her she regretted it. Alyssa slowly closed her eyes for a beat letting out a sigh. "Shut up." He smiled broadly, but said nothing.
When the ropes finally fell free he exhaled deeply and his shoulders slumped forward. Alyssa noticed his left arm dangling limp at his side. He was right, it was dislocated. She would need help putting it back in place. Zevran stretched his neck about and rolled his good shoulder. The light of the two camp fires barely reached Bodahn's cart. Even so, angry dark marks on his wrists were visible. Alistair must have been heavy handed when he tied up the elf. Healer compulsion guided her hands to his wrists and she started to massage the area to coax his circulation.
Zevran was watching her. She didn't have to look up to know that. "Do you always treat your prisoners so tenderly?"
"Should I not?" As she rubbed his wrists Alyssa could feel the fine hairs leading up his arm, the strength in the tendons, the texture that was not quite soft but not leathery either. It seemed right that his olive hued skin was warm under her fingertips.
"Compassion in these situations usually ends with a knife in someone's back."
Alyssa pushed herself off the cart. "Nobody's perfect. Come on," she gestured for him to move forward off the edge. It was his turn to narrow his eyes. The Warden sighed, "You gotta move off there at some point." Zevran hesitated for a moment longer, glancing at his left side. "I won't drop you." With a grunt he pushed himself off the cart's edge and tumbled forward. Alyssa caught him, but was forced to take a step back and steady herself since his decent was clumsy. As they made their way to the cook fire, she noticed him favoring one leg to the other.
"Maker's breath," Alistair said as they approached. "Why did you untie him?"
She rolled her eyes, "To annoy you." To Zevran, she said, "Alistair is going to hold the right side of your body still so I can pop the shoulder back into place. It'll hurt. Probably a lot. Are you ok with this?"
"Trust me, my dear," he said smoothly, "It would take a great deal of effort for you to hurt me."
Human, elf, dwarf, it really didn't matter what shape the male took because the attitude was always the same. They were oh so tough and they never needed directions. Thank the possible Maker and the probable assorted Gods she was in charge of this goon patrol, otherwise they'd all have ended up in their small clothes on a ship bound for Tevinter with tattoos on their foreheads. "Hold him."
Alistair wrapped his arms around the elf and before any smart comments were made Alyssa torqued Zevran's left shoulder back into place with a grunt and a pop. Zevran had made a sound that was half surprise, half pained, but controlled whatever it was he felt rather aptly. When Alistair let go, Zevran moved to rub his shoulder. "Don't do that." Alyssa interrupted, "You might aggravate it. If you're still in pain, let me help."
The elf grinned broadly, "Oh? How do I know this is not just some ploy to manhandle me?"
Instead of answering, Alyssa grabbed the right side of his belt and swung him around hard. A shove to the hips straightened his gait, three jabs to his rib cage set the hairline fractures correctly, hooking her leg around his followed by a yank eased the tendons in his knee, and finally with her hands on his waist the Warden pumped a jolt of magic into his spine to dull the pain. Zevran hit the ground knees first and breathing hard. "Any questions?"
"What was that?" he gasped.
"How I deal with problem patients," Alyssa said. "You're going to be dizzy for some time. Take my tent for the night."
Alistair started, "Wait. Where are you going to sleep?"
"I…," she felt the weight of the day dragging at her, "I'm not tired. I'll take watch with you and sleep under the stars."
Zevran managed to get to his feet. Alistair caught him under the arm as he swayed.
"Be gentle with him," Alyssa said. She watched Alistair help him to a tent at the far end of the camp wondering still if she had done the right thing by inviting death to dinner. The nerve numbing spell she gave in a heavy handed dose would keep him off his game until sunrise, but she wouldn't be able to drug him forever. Eventually she would have to trust him or kill him. This would not be the last of the long nights.
