Eve swam desperately to the surface, kicking and flailing her arms, all her normal grace gone until her head broke above the water and she woke.
She was in a dark room, lying on a soft bed. When her vision cleared and focused, she found she recognized the portrait on the wall, it was a Gray Warden and her mabari, lunging at darkspawn with fury on their faces. She was in Vigil's Keep, then. She remembered little of the journey to the keep, except the pain of her crushed shoulder and bleeding lungs.
And yet, she felt as good as new. Anders truly worked miracles.
She went to the window and looked out over the dark forest. The sky was lightening but the sun had not yet breached the horizon.
And in a chair in the corner, looking at her with the serene golden eyes of a cat, was her lover.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she said. "But Bella?"
"She is fine as well. You saved her life."
Relief softened those severe elven features. Zevran regarded her. Her cheekbones were too severe and narrow to really be beautiful, eyes sharp and cunning, intricate lines crossing on her forehead and chin like brown lace. Her mouth was drawn, small, not the large voluptuous lips of an Antivan woman. Her body was slender, she moved with the grace of a halla but lacked the large breasts and hips that for him marked the ideal feminine figure.
And yet he wanted. Still, after bedding her many many times in the month they'd been together. His desire for her did not abate or even ebb no matter how many times he pleasured her. The rise and fall of her aching chest, her soft gasps and moans, her sweet wetness, it should have been enough.
And yet he wanted more.
So foolish, to tempt fate so. Better to be content with what you had. Better to never wish for more, because the little you did have was so easily snatched away. So foolish, to tempt cruel fate.
"I seem to remember you carried me here," she said.
"Ah, yes, I did. You are lucky I am so strong and virile."
"I am indeed." Her finger went to the gold earring she wore hanging around her neck on a leather string. Zevran did not miss the gesture.
It was no token of affection or commitment, the earring. It was simply a gift, he'd told her. Simply a thank you, because she had done so much for him. Freed him.
And when he had gone back his masters, she had freed him again.
"Come," she said. "Let's watch the sunrise."
He nodded and the two rogues climbed out the window and stretched together on the roof. Her timing was perfect. After a few minutes the very tip of the sun rose gold-yellow above the forest, casting it in a vibrant green. The sky shifted, a few wisps of clouds catching the light and turning it to pink.
"Lovely," he said.
"I am sorry to bring you here," she said.
"You were so badly injured," he said. "It is hardly your fault."
She nodded.
"Do not worry. I am not foolish enough to leave you twice."
She nodded again and cursed the tears that rose to her eyes. So soft, so vulnerable. The proud huntress she was could not burden Zevran with her own weakness, her need for him.
But Zevran noticed everything. He covered her hand with his own and turned his head to her. She had not cried when they had come across what was once a Dalish woman turned into a beast, begging for death. She had ended the woman's life with a grave swipe of her dagger and turned to him, eyes dry and empty, and packed the woman's scarf in her pack.
She had not cried when her dearest friend came to her, twisted and suffering from the darkspawn curse, and she had healed him with a quick twist of a blade. And when he came back to her in the temple that held Andraste's ashes and asked her if she regretted, she had not cried. She had told the apparition nothing.
She had not cried when he left. She merely packed up the few things he left behind, a set of Antivan leather boots, a few vials of poison, and a dirty Antivan novel, and set out for Amaranthine.
To see her cry now, it was as though he was seeing the goddess of the hunt naked and pleading before him. There was no man who would be unmoved, not even the heartless killer Zevran had tried so hard to become.
So he looked down at their feet, and noticed she was wearing his Antivan leather boots, the ones he'd left behind. They were well worn and shoddy, splattered with mud and deeply creased.
"We should go look for breakfast," she said, sighing, reluctant.
And Zevran smiled at her. "Stay up here," he said. "You need to rest. I will fetch it for you."
He suspected the relief on her face had much to do with avoiding Alistair for as long as possible.
He carried up a tray with a bowl of fruit for himself, and three eggs, ham, biscuits and gravy, and sausage for his little dove.
She was always hungry, today was no exception.
"If you wish, I could kill Alistair for you," Zevran said. He smiled, though he was not entirely joking.
"You'd only prove him right," she replied, but she smiled as she did so.
"You are no heartless killer," he said.
"I burned Amaranthine to the ground." She spoke gravely but plainly, reciting her crimes much as Loghain had, refusing to spare herself any guilt. She had acted, and she deserved whatever came next.
"Oghren told me it was because Vigil's Keep was also under attack," said Zevran. "You chose the Wardens. It was an unfortunate situation, but the wisest choice you could have made."
She nodded.
"I have killed for profit all my life," he said, "but I have never seen you kill for any reason so petty as that. Even when you worked for the Crows, you did so to gain powerful allies for the Wardens."
She laughed. "Before Duncan," she said, "I killed any shem who so much as stepped a foot onto Dalish lands. I hated them, all shemlen. Duncan and Alistair changed my mind."
"And now Alistair condemns you."
She nodded. "I tried so hard to protect him. There are so many things he never knew."
"And I never understood this. It is time Alistair learns what it means to be a Warden."
She shook her head. "If you could be like him, so gentle and free, wouldn't you? To him, darkspawn are the only enemy. He does not watch the corners of his room at night for fear the shadows might move. He gives his heart and his affection so easily, so freely. He cares for everyone."
Zevran shrugged, a casual movement. But he thought for a long time on her words.