As a quick note: I'm sorry for my extended absence from both this story and my other project, "Shadows". It's been a very eventful 40 or so days, and not in a good way, due to some new health issues and a lack of insurance/money. Anyway, now that I no longer spend every other day profusely ill, hopefully I'll start making some progress again. Thanks for sticking by me, everybody, and as always, your comments encourage me to keep writing!
Also, I was wondering if anyone could give me some hints as to how to keep the document uploader from ruining my formatting? For some reason, the site won't allow me to use certain characters (like two dashes in a row) or put two spaces between sentences (?).
"My Lena." Zevran whispered, and her eyes snapped open.
One calloused finger pressed into her lips. Zevran's face was very close to hers. His breathing was shallow, coming in little pants through parted lips. His narrowed eyes were on the door to their room.
Lena and Zevran had been killing people together for more than two years now, and she needed no further instruction. She slipped off the bed and landed in a crouch, Duncan's sword and her dar'misu already in her hands. She had thankfully taken to at least partially re-dressing before bed- a tunic and leggings would at least protect her modesty, if not her safety.
Zevran slid past her, his footsteps softer than a cat's even in hard-soled Orlesian boots. He put his ear close to the door then flattened himself against the wall. Their eyes met.
"Four." He mouthed, as the door fell off its hinges.
This time Lena moved first, launching herself at the first person through the door. She had just enough time to register the surprise on the big human's face before she attached herself to him, snarling. Zevran slid past her like a shadow, driving one slim dagger up and into the second attacker's ribs between the plates of his armor. It was a maneuver she remembered (though she suspected Alistair recalled with even more clarity) from the first time they'd met.
Distracted, Lena didn't see the fourth- the actual Crow of the group- until he was tearing her off of his dead friend. He (a blonde elf who could have been good looking if he wasn't trying his best to kill her) put a knee into her jaw and toppled her before Zevran hit him from the other side.
The Crow got one foot behind Zevran's as he was stepping toward him and they fell in a heap on top of her, smashing her between one thrashing assassin and one dead one.
Zevran swore in two languages as both their weapons flew. Lena got one arm free and impaled the Crow with her dar'misu as Zevran's fist came down for the second time. She slid out from underneath them as Zevran continued to hit his former associate and swear explosively.
At last he stood, a smear of blood across his heaving chest.
"Did he cut you?" He demanded.
"Please. A lousy two-bit assassin?" Lena gasped, letting her head fall against a section of the floor that was thankfully devoid of bodily fluids.
Zevran shook out his fist, wincing.
"Faces have gotten harder since I last punched someone." He said dryly, then froze. Another set of footsteps were traveling down the hallway toward them.
A booted foot appeared in the doorway, and Zevran had scooped up his dagger and almost killed the human before realization set it. He took a step backward.
"…Nivea?" He blurted.
It took a moment for her Lena to realize where she knew this human from. Long dark hair, neat goatee, swirling black tattoos peaking out from the collar of his shirt and his long sleeves…
…of course, there was one main difference from the last time they'd seen each other: this time, he had clothes on.
"Maker!" Nivea declared. "It is true! I knew it!" He cocked his head as he looked at the dead Crow on the ground. "Actually, I knew him. What was his name…?"
"Alaine Sirev." Zevran said helpfully.
The human snapped his fingers.
"Yes, that was it. Thank you. We see a lot of the Crows in my business, you understand."
"What in seven hells are you doing here?" Lena interrupted, nearly shrieking. Nivea swept in, pushing his cloak off of his shoulders and closing the door behind him.
"I'm here to help." He said with a little bow.
"We don't really need your services at present, Nivea. But we're flattered by the offer." Zevran said dryly, crossing his arms.
Nivea opened his mouth to retort, then his gaze sank. He cleared his throat.
"Does this often happen to you when you're killing people, Zevran?" He said, gesturing vaguely.
Zevran looked down at himself.
"Yes. And no one has ever complained before." He said indignantly.
"I suppose all that fighting would get the blood pumping. To all sorts of places, apparently." Nivea stroked his goatee thoughtfully, his eyes still hovering over Zevran's pants.
"We don't need your help! And how do you even know what we're doing?" Lena interjected, drawing the two men back-hopefully-to a slightly more pressing topic.
"When last we saw each other, I of course noticed that your man is a Crow. They have very distinctive tattoos, of course. And M'Lady spoke Ferel quite a bit better than Antivan. Between these things, the scars from teeth the size of daggers on your stomach, and your King's armor, I rather assumed you were the famous Ferelden Grey Warden and her Antivan assassin lover." Nivea said, one black eyebrow raised. "And whores gossip, of course."
Lena stared at him in blatant shock. Nivea sighed.
"I know what's happening to the Crows. And I know that you are tasked with killing quite a few of them. I want to help."
"Why?" She demanded.
"Don't look a gift whore in the mouth." He said blithely.
"…I have no idea what that is supposed to mean." Lena said at last.
"You will die. We can't protect you. The Crows are the most elite assassins in the Thedas." Zevran said, crossing to look out the window for an escape route and throwing a tunic on.
"I know. I trained with the Crows for years. I'm a very good archer and I'm twice your size."
"When did you get out?"
"At eighteen. I was with the Crows for fourteen years."
"How are you still among the living, if I may ask?" Zevran said, buckling his armor down.
Nivea pulled his hair back, craning his neck to bare his throat. He ran a finger over a thin scar that went from ear to ear. Lena found it difficult to believe that she hadn't noticed it in their last encounter. She had been rather drunk, however.
"An oversight on their part. Have I mentioned that I'm difficult to kill?"
Zevran snorted.
"A useful skill indeed. What say you, my dear?" He said, offering a hand to Lena and sliding out a second story window onto the roof of the level below.
Lena sighed, edging along the landing. She did have a habit of accumulating companions.
"Nivea! Come on. Try to keep up." She exclaimed, and the human followed them out the window and into the black, moonless night.
Leliana extinguished the lamp and lay down, sighing. When next she woke, she would be in Antiva City.
As a bard, Leliana had traveled extensively, but she'd never seen Antiva before. She'd met a lot of Antivans, however. They tended to be full of advice and anecdotes concerning the land of their birth. Useful advice like, "Don't make eye-contact with the Crows," and "Don't feed the stray dogs or rats," and "When someone in a house above yells 'Look out below!' with a chamberpot in their hands, it's best to not waste time actually looking."
Still, excitement was building. Travel was always an adventure, and she was of course looking forward to seeing Lena and Zevran again.
She listened to the surf hitting the hull of the ship rhythmically, the creak of the deck above, a few rats moving around in the space between the walls.
Sleep wouldn't come.
Leliana had never been particularly insomniac, but then again, until recently she'd spent her days slicing darkspawn to ribbons and falling into ravines and being chased by bears and assassins and bandits.
She was just recalling the last time she'd seen her former companions- Lena, still pale and weak, Zevran, his usual levity slightly forced- when someone rather skillfully picked her lock.
Leliana tensed under the bedclothes but didn't move. Her hand inched toward the dagger she kept with her even in sleep. Her hand found cold steel as quiet steps approached the pile of her clothing and her pack. Luckily, as an occasional pickpocket herself she had learned to also keep her coin purse on her- even in sleep.
Leliana worked the dagger free from its scabbard as the thief abandoned her things and approached her bed. A cold hand slid under the bedclothes.
She reacted, snatching a wrist and pulling hard, bringing her dagger up with the other hand. She found a throat with her blade and the thief froze.
They were perfectly still in the total blackness for a moment before a voice spoke.
"I'm sorry, Leliana dear. It was nothing personal." Arges said.