**I have to give a huge thanks to my hubby who helped with the bar banter!
The Scarlet Harlot was packed as Moira and her new companions made their way through the press of men blocking the entrance. Most appeared to be workers of various descriptions and were probably local to the neighborhood. Nearly all were holding mugs of ale and talking loudly.
Clearly the regular watering hole. The inside wasn't any better as Moira tried to catch a glimpse of Zevran in the crowd of bodies. The young guards with her squeezed around her and made a wedge to help clear the way. At the counter the barkeep looked startled to see her again, and in the company of the city guard.
"What'll be Commander?" The sandy haired youth named Bryan asked her. The barkeep, overhearing, blushed when he realized that the bloodied elven woman who had been there earlier was obviously someone with status.
"Ale is fine, thanks." Moira gave a small smile, trying to see the back reaches of the room.
Once they were served Moira listened to their stories about the city and their experiences within it. She laughed at their jokes and asked questions of her own until she saw a blonde head making its way towards them. Moira's spirits lifted when Zevran came into full view.
"Care if I join you?" Zevran quirked an eyebrow and smiled.
The guards exchanged uncertain looks between them; unsure they cared for the intrusion.
"You're not planning to keep this lovely lady all to yourselves, are you? Of course who would blame you if you were." Zevran's eyes lingered on Moira's, although he did not miss the dried blood spots on her drakeskin armor as he smiled.
Moira leaned against the bar and remained silent. An amused smirk graced her lips as she observed her companions. She could tell by their reactions that they had, indeed, been hoping to monopolize her evening.
"Erm, sure, if it's alright with the Warden Commander." Bryan answered after receiving nods from his fellows.
Zevran feigned a look of surprise. "Warden Commander?" Zevran took a step back and gazed at Moira once more with a more critical stare. "Surely you jest! This isn't the Warden Commander is it? This lady is too beautiful to be the Warden Commander of Ferelden. That one is a giant, tough as a dragon and just as mean. I've heard she can freeze a man's heart with a glance." He paused for effect. "A look from this woman here is more fit for melting hearts than for turning them to ice." Zevran gave Moira an appraising look, winking when her smile broadened.
"Yes it is. She's here on important Warden business." A soldier offered.
"Fascinating!" He turned his attention to her. "And what is your important Warden business, Commander? Recruiting new hearts and minds to the Warden cause?" Zevran looked over the ring of soldiers surrounding Moira. Over the rim of his cup he said. "You've clearly succeeded in winning the hearts if not the minds of a few young men already."
Neither Moira nor Zevran missed the rise of color in the men's faces. Moira wanted to laugh out loud at Zevran's game. "My business is my own friend, but you're welcome to join us."
Bryan and the other two guards looked a little disappointed but accepted Zevran into their little circle.
"Ah, so there is room for one more in the competition for your affections." Zevran's eyes twinkled.
Moira raised her mug. "May the best man win."
As the evening progressed it quickly became a game of one-up-manship over who could tell the more outrageous story or humorous joke. Zevran took every opportunity to use innuendo in his stories and answers, quickly having everyone wary of what came out of their mouths. Several of his retorts found Moira tearing up from laughter. More guards had arrived earlier and joined in the drinking game that had come about from Zevran's incessant teasing. Every time someone slipped up and got caught without a ready come back they had to buy a round for everyone.
Bryan was trying his best to impress Moira and she could tell he was interested in her. Under other circumstances she might have pursued it. She didn't have a regular lover and didn't, in fact, have sex all that frequently. She preferred to have an occasional fling on her way through a place with someone who wasn't after bragging rights, wanting a relationship or after political influence. Moira started thinking back to the last time she'd found someone who fit the criteria.
When was that? Ten months ago or so? What was his name again? He was the blacksmith…Ah, yes, Enric! She remembered meeting with the man to negotiate repairs for her Warden's weapons and armor after a particularly fierce engagement with a large force of darkspawn in the lower Frostbacks. Enric was a stout and burly man who reminded her of a bull with his thick curly brown hair and heavy shoulders. He'd been as stubborn as one too.
After they had agreed upon a price and the Wardens had dropped off the pieces for repair she'd seen him later in the tavern. They'd spent a fair amount of time talking and she found herself liking what he had to say. She liked his honesty and forthrightness and found herself thinking that he was handsome enough in a tough, earthy kind of way. She'd indicated her interest and before the moon had reached its peak was being thrusted on the anvil in his shop. It was rough, simple and extremely satisfying. It was made more so by the warm iron beneath her buttocks, his heavy hands on her thighs, and the heat from the forge. Afterwards, Moira had taken to checking on the repairs every evening before she and the other Wardens had headed home.
Moira was pulled out of her erotic reverie when she heard Zevran and Bryan making a wager.
"You're too clever with that tongue of yours Master Arainai. You haven't had to buy a round yet! Let's see how quick you are with your hands." Bryan was starting to look a little tipsy. The men next to him snickered; waiting to see if Zevran would take the wager.
"I am, indeed, very clever with my tongue and with my hands. Alas only a small portion of my talents with these are fit for public display. Are you looking to see if you measure up to my stature?" The men around them roared with laughter as Bryan blushed a furious color of red.
Bryan caught Moira looking him over with a sly grin. "That-er-wasn't what I meant!" Bryan flustered under her glance.
"I propose a game." Bryan took a silver from his belt pouch. "All you need to do is snatch this from my hand before it closes. If you lose you buy the entire tavern a round." The men hooted some more. Many had played this game with Bryan before and lost.
Zevran gave a cocky grin. "And when I win?"
Bryan thought about it a minute. "You win 1 sovereign."
Zevran laughed before clasping the man on the shoulder. "I don't want to take your money, my friend. If I win, I get to steal the Warden Commander away."
Bryan looked over to Moira who, smiling, shrugged. "Okay then."
The two men squared off and Bryan placed the coin in his palm. Zevran, who was clearly enjoying himself, nodded that he was ready. In a blur of hands the game began and ended. Bryan opened his hand to find it empty. A wave of laughter and sympathetic words flowed around him. Bryan looked sheepish as Zevran presented him his coin.
"No worries my friend, I can well understand your desire to not part with the lady's company." Zevran smiled broadly and called for the barkeep to serve another round, "To the city guard and their drinking stamina." The cheers throughout the tavern helped take some of the sting from Bryan's face.
Moira finished her drink and stepped away from the bar to the protests of many of the patrons. "Thanks for a great evening but I think I'll go with this elf and see what he has to say." Moira grinned suggestively at the catcalls of a guard or two.
When Moira and Zevran were out of earshot she smiled at Zevran and said, "And what interesting things do you have to say old friend?"
"That depends, do you wish to hear interesting things about intrigue or pleasure?" Zevran gave her a look in the darkness. "Follow me."
Zevran led her though a series of twists and turns, along canals, and over bridges until they approached a two-story house in a more upscale part of town. The house was like many others in its stucco coating and beautiful windows. Moira did notice it had no balconies, unlike most of the other houses next to it. The house was framed on one side by a tall wall and shared a side with another house.
The flat stone steps led up to an ornate door that Zevran opened with a key.
"This is your house?" Moira asked.
Zevran grinned. "Yes. This is la casa de Arainai."
He led her deeper into the house to a set of stairs. Moira found his home was well furnished with a simple but elegant style. He opened the door to a room containing a bed, chest, and vanity. He leaned against the doorframe once Moira was inside. She was pleased to see her pack waiting on the bed.
"If the bed is to too uncomfortable, mine is just down the hall." He gave her a sultry look and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Or maybe we should try your bed first."
"You mean you haven't broke this bed in yet?" Moira gave him a lopsided grin. Her look said she doubted that very much.
Zevran chuckled. "Not with you, I haven't."
Zevran had wanted to show Moira the extent of his feelings for many years. In the time they had spent traveling Ferelden, rallying an army, it had seemed she was just out of reach. She had been involved with Alistair and Zevran had come to find out that she was in love with the man. Alistair's angry words during the Landsmeet had hurt Moira, when he had stormed out of their lives it had broken her heart. She had said nothing, but he knew she was hurting. Even though his feelings for her had gone beyond those one would normally have for a friend he had given her the time and space she needed. He had hoped that when the time was right he would be able to tell her, in his own way, that he cared for her. But that had never happened. She had poured herself into the destruction of the darkspawn and rebuilding the Grey Wardens and he'd stayed, supporting her efforts. When they had gotten the Wardens on their feet again he'd decided it was time to leave. He'd planned to only be gone long enough to resolve his issues with the Crows before returning to her. Unfortunately life had another plan and all the words he'd wanted to say to her had fallen to the wayside.
He'd gone to Ferelden from time to time to expand opportunities for the Crows but had never been able to see her for more than a day if she was in Amaranthine. Even so, their friendship had endured and she was here now…with him.
Moira cocked her head to one side, her face softening. Not with me? It was late and Moira was tired of games. On the morrow she'd have to be a Warden Commander but tonight, tonight she was a woman. A woman who knew what she wanted.
"Then maybe you should come here and we'll test its durability." The space between them constricted and Moira could feel the attraction resonate in the room.
Zevran quirked an eyebrow, closed the distance between them and took her upper arms in his hands, his eyes flickering over her face. There was no hesitation in her eyes and they met in a kiss that was urgent and fueled with long denied desires. Moira pushed her tongue deep into his mouth and bit at his lips as she wrapped her arms around the sleek assassin. She wanted to feel his body against hers, now made awkward by their armor and weapons.
Breath, lips, and tongues met and collided as they worked together to free themselves from their everyday impediments until their armor lay in a heap at their feet. Yanking the tunics and breeches from each other and themselves until they met in a press of naked flesh. Moira was breathing hard and her body was on fire wanting him to touch her. She ran her hands over his back and neck, pulling him to her, devouring him. Zevran pressed her to him with strong arms, impressing the feel of her breasts and the heat from her body onto the front of him. Together they found the bed and ran anxious hands over each other. Moira was eager, ready and Zevran was not abject to giving her want she wanted.
He rolled her on top of him and she easily straddled him. She was sucking on his earlobe when she pushed him into her causing a moan to escape them both. Moira sat up, running her hands over the smooth skin of his chest until they were resting on the lower portion of his ribs. Her face was full of pleasurable enjoyment and it made his ardor flare. Zevran cupped her breasts, running his thumbs over her erect nipples pleased when she shivered and bit her lower lip. He ran them further down the curves of her torso until the flare of her hips was in his hands. With a gentle but insistent shove he rubbed her against him.
Moira tingled with the motion and knew that she wasn't going to be able to stave off the inevitable for long. In a few thrusts Zevran felt her thighs tighten and saw her face contort into ecstasy even as she moaned her release. He gave a sensually wicked grin. While she may have reached completion, he was just getting started.
A few hours, and positions later, Moira lay spent on sheets damp with sweat. She laid her head on Zevran's shoulder and he put an arm around her even as they started drifting into sleep. For the first time in longer than Moira cared to think about she closed her eyes to find only darkness.
Moira woke up alone. She gave a fitful stretch before rolling out of bed. Someone had brought a basin of water and she wondered if Zevran had someone working for him.
He's a busy man. Surely he doesn't have time to keep up his own house.
Moira washed up and changed into the clean set of clothes in her pack. Picking up her leathers and cotton clothes she frowned at them. She was going to have to clean them before she did anything else today.
Food first. I'm starving.
The bundle under arm she headed downstairs to find the kitchen. Upon entering she saw a pretty blonde woman pulling out a loaf of fresh bread. The woman turned and smiled in her direction.
"Master Arainai said we had company." The woman spied the bundle. "You need those washed? Leave them over there." She pointed to a basket after setting the loaf down.
Moira dropped her cotton clothes in it but separated her leathers. Drakeskin needed little upkeep other than cleaning and the rare repair but Moira liked to rub it with an unguent that helped to keep it supple and kept it from chafing in the creases.
"Thanks." Moira watched the woman bustle around the kitchen. She was dwarven and very womanly. Those eyes are the color of the sky. She wondered if she were a transplant from Orzammar or was born on the surface.
Moira eyed the bread before asking. "Do you mind if I take some of that?"
The other woman gave a laugh. "Help yourself! There will be more in a bit."
Moira tore a chunk off and chewed it. "Do you know where Master Arainai is?"
The dwarf gave Moira a knowing smirk. "I suspect he's in the courtyard out back. Just go down the hall to the last door."
Moira tore off another chunk of the delicious bread before picking her leathers up and heading out.
In the courtyard she found Zevran practicing forms. He was bare to the waist and barefoot in the cool midmorning sun. Moira shivered slightly at the change in temperature and the fact that she was minus a layer. She wondered if he did this even in the coldest part of winter and if the practice was some sort of exercise the Crows had devised to harden their assassins against the elements.
She dropped her armor and leaned against the wall watching him. The sun played tricks with the lean lines of his body as he moved across the stones. The wall was warming her back and it felt good as she ate. Zevran went through the forms slowly and with purpose, clearly concentrating. Moira looked over the small courtyard. It was walled off and there wasn't much in it now except a weapons rack. She guessed that he's set that up before starting. It wasn't weather-beaten and currently held an assortment of weapons, both wooden and otherwise.
She went and inspected it. Noticing two sets of wooden swords she picked out a pair for each of them. When she turned he'd stopped and was watching her.
"Care to spar a little?" She grinned running her eyes over his torso.
Zevran smiled widely. "Are you sure this is the sparring you have in mind?" He raked her with his eyes, taking in the way the clothes hugged her body and outlined its curves.
He set his swords in the rack.
Moira tested out the weight and balance of the wooden weapons in her hand before facing Zevran. She smiled to see he was doing the same.
"Ready?" She asked.
"Always."
They started off slow, attacking and countering in well rehearsed motions. After they both felt comfortable and warmed up the real practice began. It started off friendly enough but before long the near misses and hits began to fire the flames of competition and they set after each other in earnest. Thirty minutes of heavy combat later they were face-to-face panting and sweating. A long moment passed between them while they locked eyes before the swords clattered to the ground and they were in each other's arms.
His mouth on hers he drove her back to the wall and started pushing her trousers off. She fumbled with the drawstring of his. He wrapped her legs around his waist and in a moment they were connected at lips and hips.
When it was over they both sat slumped against the wall. Moira turned her head to look at Zevran. "If this keeps up neither of us is going to get anything done."
He smiled and laughed a little breathlessly. "True enough." Standing he offered her his hand and pulled her to her feet.
They sat at the long wooden table in kitchen eating a breakfast of bread, preserves, and cheese conferring about the day before. The dwarven woman whose name turned out to be Ualla left them to handle Moira's laundry.
Zevran told her that he'd spoken with Madame Meme about what had transpired while she had slept. Meme wasn't very happy about the situation and had promised to look into it. Many important people frequented her establishment and it was bad for business if attempts were made on clients' lives, especially if it could be attached to someone who worked for her. He needed to talk to her to see what she'd uncovered.
When he'd left Moira in front of the former Guildmaster's house he'd met with some people who were known to have information others didn't. Many of whom owed him various personal favors. He'd been on his way back to Roihden's Gold when a fellow Crow had caught up with him and told him he was needed at the Guildhall. A hit had gone wrong and had ended badly for the Crows sent to handle the job. He'd also had to deal with a belligerent client who wanted a contract canceled and his money back. Zevran had rubbed his forehead while he spoke about it. Moira got the impression that there was a lot he left out. She suspected that his days were just as wrapped up in the day-to-day business as hers were when she was at Vigil's Keep.
"Because the mission was botched it will demand punishment be meted out and retribution be put into motion." He'd grinned then. "I sometimes long for the days when all I had to worry about was who I had to kill and who was coming to bed with me."
When it was her turn to share she recounted the experience in the alley. He turned to her with a grin. "Perhaps your friend Seras will find his manhood in the Fade. How unmerciful of you my friend." Zevran made a horrified face and they both laughed.
While Moira wasn't as unapologetic about killing as Zevran, she'd done a considerable amount in her travels. Sometimes it was warranted, sometimes she was thrust into the situation, and others…well other times it was just because it had to be done. She tried not to think about it and made an effort to deal with what couldn't be forgotten.
Moira shrugged. "Good luck to him then." She said as she finished her tea. Looking into the mug she started thinking. I will have to find a place to pick up more sleeping draught.
As if reading her thoughts Zevran put his hand over hers and looked her in the eyes. "How long have you been taking that sleeping potion?"
Moira's face went blank and she looked down. "Three years."
He squeezed her hand lightly. "You do know its addictive, yes?"
Moira looked up at him. "I know, but I didn't need it last night did I?" She gave him a playful smile.
"No, you did not. But you don't have me to wear you out every night do you." Zevran schooled his face to conceal his concern for her.
"Moira," He paused and cleared his throat, not knowing how she would react to the question. "Why did you start taking them?"
Moira stood and backed away. "I couldn't take the dreams anymore Zevran." She brushed the hair from her eyes, her face pained and angry. "I couldn't take him watching me, judging me, disapproving. After all these years, after what he did, it's come back to haunt my dreams. Dreaming about the darkspawn is bad enough but having Alistair laugh while they cut me down is too much."
She paced back and forth before stopping. "And…the images from that cave at Drakon won't go away. He's there too, naming me murderer." She looked to Zevran. "It was too much, I couldn't do my job effectively anymore. I needed something to push those thoughts away in the night."
Zevran's face was neutral when he answered. "What other choice was there for those women Moira? We couldn't salvage them all. You did the best you could at the time."
Moira gave him an angry look. "Did I Zevran? Did I? If he'd been there, instead of running away like a spoiled child, he might have known some way to help them. How many times did we find those underground pockets? He would have been there to beat the bastards back from the Bannorn, how many soldiers could he have saved with his Templar abilities?"
Mages had been in very short supply during the fighting and the darkspawn Emissaries had decimated whole battalions with their spells. Hundreds had fallen because the allied armies had little to no way to counter them. The Templars of the Circle had refused to send aid, more concerned with a few mages in a broken tower than helping to save the land.
Zevran had come to the conclusion that too much lyrium in non-mages retarded judgment. To Zevran's mind it seemed a little misplaced to blame Alistair but he couldn't argue that he and Moira could have used his help on numerous occasions.
She sat down and took a deep breath, rubbing the mug between her hands. Zevran looked at her for a long moment. "300 sovereigns amore and a promise that you will send for me if you need me." He did not tell her that he would sweeten the deal from his own coin.
Her eyes widened, shifting between blue and green. She grew still while she studied him. Zevran had no love for the former Templar but he didn't hate him either. He thought Alistair a fool for turning his back on this woman's love and a coward for leaving her to fight the Blight alone but he didn't hate him. Zevran suspected that her hurt went a lot deeper than Alistair's failure to fulfill his duty, however. Alistair had hurt her personally and he didn't think she'd ever forgive Alistair that trespass.
"I'll start drawing up the contract later. You will leave me with the funds and I will take care them as well. But I need to know how you want to handle delivery."
Moira's aqua eyes looked as stormy as the sea. "Send a letter once he's found with a rough time frame for delivery. I want to be there if possible. Can a Crow stay with him until I get there if I'm in the field?"
Zevran replied. "Within a reasonable time allotment."
Moira beamed and reached across the table to embrace him before disappearing from the room.
I hope you know what you're doing amore. Not all wounds can be cauterized, some are never meant to heal.
She returned a short time later with a signed promissory note. Zevran looked it over before folding it in half and secreting it away. Moira had started cleaning her armor and he watched her for a long time.
