Ch. 10
A/N – In respect to Zevran's dialogue in the previous chapters. I had wanted to see if I could pull off something similar to how J.K. Rowlings wrote Hagrid's dialect in the Harry Potter series. The feedback I have gotten tells me Zevran disapproves -50. When I find the time I will correct the past dialogue and it will no longer exist in future chapters. Thanks to Raven Jadewolfe for the catches on improper use of Holsters and the annoying random lines that torment chapter 5. :) Special thanks to ZevGirl for cleaning up my act.
Children Falling From the Sky
They still only had one horse while traveling to Jader. Recent tragic events had been set aside as they found it difficult to concentrate on anything other than the feel of their bodies rubbing together. Through his leather armor, Mira could feel Zevran's chest expand and contract against her back as she leaned into him. His arms wrapped firmly around hers, casually resting on her thighs as he held the reigns. Her hips pressed between his legs, swaying with the movement of their mount. He was finding it increasingly more difficult to conceal his arousal. Pressing his face against the nape of her neck breathing her in, he became lost in thought, daydreaming about a future of which he would never speak. Vague thoughts manifested in his mind like scenes from a play. A vision of a little Zevran, wrapped in a blanket, cooing at its mother.
Ah, the Mother, he thought as he lingered on the vision, her long dark hair clinging to her face as she held the infant. Mira Arainai. He rolled over the name thinking it had a certain ring to it, always reminding himself the possibility of its fruition was nothing more than just that, a dream. A good dream, but it would end, and in time become just another faded memory.
"Zev?" Mira asked, snapping him out of his trance.
He replied resting his chin on her shoulder. "Mmmmm?" His voice vibrated in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.
"What is Jader like?" she asked turning her head to the side to meet his.
"Well now," he said sitting back, just hovering over her shoulder. "It is Orlesian, but like most border cities, it is a melting pot, a perfect place for all your smuggling needs and enough transients to maintain a very profitable Massage Parlor," he chuckled softly. "So basically it's noisy, dirty and overcrowded," he scoffed. "So overcrowded."
The horse stopped suddenly, jerking them forward. It stepped high, backing up and rearing, refusing to move. A few yards in front of them, a tree began to shake, its branches rustling wildly. While dismounting, they heard a suppressed yelp as a small figure plummeted to the ground.
"You see, it is so overcrowded, children are simply falling from the sky," he said smoothly and rolled his hand in a downward motion.
The child was disheveled and obviously shaken. "T-Templars..." she said breathlessly as she ran towards them. "Please... help," she stammered with a look of pure terror on her face.
"Templars?" she asked turning to him. "You think this is what the guards in the Tower were talking about?"
"Would you be surprised if it were so?" he said dryly.
"Please they're coming!" her voice raised as her desperation increased.
"Hide," Mira said quickly. "We will detour them."
Moments later, five Templars stormed up the path. "Commander," The Templar addressed her, "have you seen a child run through here?"
Mira raised an eyebrow. "Do children often run wild and rampant around here?" she answered flippantly as the Templar removed his helmet and glared at her, unamused by her attempt at humor.
"Why have you dismounted?" The Templar looked them over suspiciously.
"What? It is not a crime for two lovers to engage in a little fun while traveling, no?" Zevran answered with a slick roll of the tongue, grabbing Mira around the waist and pulling her in. A broad grin spread across her lips as she hung her arms around his neck, nibbling on his ear.
The Templar backed off, shifting uncomfortably and cleared his throat. "Should you come across such a child, keep your distance, she is a murderer and extremely dangerous," he continued brusquely.
Zevran pulled her in closer, running his hand down the curve of her body and resting it on her bottom. "Yes, Ser Knight," her voice wavered as he kissed and nibbled under her ear. "We'll make sure to do…"
Her eyes fluttered as her knees quivered. "…that. Mmmmm," she groaned wanting to throw him on the ground right there and then.
"Right," the Templar scoffed. "We'll be on our way then." He grunted at them as he turned the horses back down the path.
Zevran's tongue wound designs along her jaw as he kissed his way up, finding her lips and kissing them. Her hand grazed his cheek as she ran her fingers through his hair, grasping the nape of his neck. He groaned softly into her mouth as she caressed his pointed ear with her thumb. He bent his knees picking her up and her legs wrapped around him. She could feel the growing lump of his arousal as he pressed her back against a tree.
"Zev," she moaned in his ear. Trying to force herself to pull away, her hands drifted to his shoulders. "Zevran," she said trying to catch her breath. He reluctantly raised his head and met her eyes.
"I think they're gone." She cleared her throat.
He let out a frustrated sigh and set her down. Stepping back, he adjusted himself and after a minute, he successfully shook off his wanton desire.
"Little bit, you may come out," he said wearily.
A sparrow landed at their feet, fluttering on the ground. They stared at it briefly before it began morphing back into human form.
"Nifty," Mira said in awe.
"I can only do two so far," the child said brushing herself off.
Mira knelt down to eye level with her. She was caked in mud, her knees and elbows scraped and her hands were raw. "Where are your parents?" she asked, brushing twigs and grass out of her hair.
"Gone," she said in a hollow voice and looked at the ground.
"Gone?" Mira repeated.
"The Templars came, and they killed them," the girl stated, her voice still empty.
"That's awful!" Mira said, disgusted at the thought.
"There slaughtering families now, will wonders never cease?" Zevran said sardonically and rolled his eyes.
Mira sat back on her heels. "What's your name?" she asked.
"Dara, Darastrix," she said flatly but politely.
"We should get going, no?" Zevran suggested, as the daylight was wearing thin. "Where are you headed, Dara Darastrix?" He smiled looking down at the mini mage.
She straightened up her posture looking back and forth between them expressionless, assessing the two elves before speaking. "Jader." Before either one of them could answer she continued. "I'll come with you," she stated bluntly. They both had opened their mouths to speak when she interrupted again. "I can do this." Dara said, the slightest tone of hope in her voice. She took a step back as her body melted into itself, reshaping its form.
Mira and Zevran exchanged a positive look, agreeing in an unsaid conversation. She knelt down and scooped a brown rat into the palm of her hand. "Well, this will work," she said, admiring the tiny creature before she stowed her safely in her saddlebag.
Mira's nose picked up the scent of horses carried downwind as they approached Gherlen's Pass. She put her hand up in the air interrupting a particularly intriguing conversation about the politics of underground nug racing.
Zevran pulled gently on the reigns, quietly halting the mount. Ahead of them, they could hear the faint sounds of metal clanking and the soft mummer of voices.
Mira turned her mouth up into a sly grin. "Templars," she whispered as she unbuckled a strap on her armor, ruffled her hair and pinched her cheeks to make them flush.
The Templar's conversation muted as they approached. Zevran arched his back and sat proudly in the saddle, a smug look on his face. More than a few heads turned as she pretended to look abashed while readjusting her armor, her hands lingering over her breasts.
A short Templar at the edge of the crossing saluted her, "Commander," and promptly elbowed the taller man next to him, who fell into suit.
"Gentlemen." She lowered her eyes flirtatiously and nodded as they turned down the path towards Jader.
"You were hoping to kill them all, yes?" Zevran said as he chuckled darkly.
"A little." She replied with a smirk "I just love messing with Templars, it's a hobby," she said playfully and shrugged.
It was gloaming when they set up camp a few miles off the main road. Zevran tied up the horse and began to unpack their supplies. Mira opened her satchel to find a sleeping rat.
"Darastrix?" she said accidentally startling her.
Dara's eyes shot open at the sight of a gigantic head towering over her. In her shock, she lost her concentration. The rat shape dissolved, growing and expanding as it tried to reform. There was a loud rip as the satchel tore open, sending most of its contents tumbling to the ground. Most that is, save for Dara who was hanging by her waist. The rim of the satchel wrapped around her, still attached to the horse. She struggled, flailing her arms wildly trying to free herself. Finally, the strap broke dropping her on her bottom. Mira covered her mouth, stifling a laugh.
"Problems?" Zevran chimed from behind them as Mira helped her to her feet.
"Sorry," she said trying not to look embarrassed while staring at the ground.
"It's fine, I just wanted to make sure you're okay," she said still suppressing a laugh.
"You're a Grey Warden aren't you?" Dara asked abruptly as they begun to clean up the mess.
"Yes, I am," Mira answered in a formal tone.
"Not just any Grey Warden," Zevran said from across the small campsite. "The Hero of Ferelden, herself," he teased, smirking at her.
"I know," Dara replied blandly. "I was following you."
"Following us?" Mira's voice picked up.
"Mmmhmm," she nodded. "Since those people left you."
Zevran's attention was immediately upon her. "Oh?" he said nonchalantly as not to frighten her.
"I thought I knew one of them," Dara sighed. "But it wasn't Pia," she said, a melancholy tone in her voice.
"Let me guess," Zevran started. "Pia has a scar on her left," he hesitated, "on the left side of her chest."
Dara nodded. "Did you see anything else?" he asked her curiously.
She stood quiet for a moment, glancing between the two. "Do you mean before or after they tried to kill you and leave you for dead?" she answered him honestly cocking her head to the side.
"Why not just tell us everything," Mira suggested with a smile and a quirk of her brow.
They continued to set up camp as Dara continued her story. After several days of little to no sleep and surviving off what little food she could steal in a sparrow's mouth, she was exhausted. Enticed by the smell of the stew in the air, she flew in closer. From a treetop, she recognized what she thought was Pia. Excited to see a familiar face, she landed on the top of the caravan. She was chirping in an attempt to get the girl's attention when an older woman approached. The woman handed her a vial, explaining that plans had changed.
"That's when I knew she wasn't Pia," Dara explained sitting by the fire.
Zevran turned from setting up the tent. "And how do you know she wasn't this Pia?" he asked skeptically.
"Pia, wouldn't try to kill you," Dara frowned at him and crossed her arms. "Now Phoebe on the other hand, she would definitely try to kill you."
Both Zevran and Mira's eyes shot wide open.
"Twins!Marvelous!" he exclaimed. "This explains a lot. No?"
"You know Phoebe?" Mira asked anxiously.
"Not as well as he knows her." Dara said, sending Zevran an accusatory glare. He looked away hiding the scowl on his face. Mira's face fell into an embittered frown as she shook off a pang of jealously. She looked at him blankly.
"Oh? How well do you think I know her?" he asked cautiously.
"Well enough to kiss her on the-"
Mira cut her off, "I don't need to hear of Zevran's exploits from an eight year old." She fussed with the pot of stew on the fire, refusing to acknowledge him.
"Nothing happened, I assure you," he scoffed, shrugging off the foggy memory.
"If it makes you feel better," Dara said turning to Mira, "he thought she was you."
She looked up from the pot as he glanced at her from the corner of his eye, still looking away.
Dara continued to explain that they had become frustrated. After dosing Zevran several times, he was still conscious and quite lucid. Phoebe had complained that the effort it was taking to subdue him had worn their supplies thin. She suggested stabbing him but was strongly advised against it due to the chance of his blood contaminating the ritual. Aside from that, Iona had doubted that Phoebe would be victor in that battle. "A broken heart is an easy way to keep our Warden vulnerable," was all she was told when she questioned as to why they could not just leave him unconscious. It took an old fashion pan to the head to knock him out finally. After noting how weak his vital signs were, they assumed he was dead, or very close to it.
A flash of anger tore through Mira as Dara filled in the missing pieces of that evening. A lugubrious look crossed her face as she clenched her fists.
"There, Warden," Zevran snorted, muttering under his breath.
"Vulnerable to what exactly?" she asked looking at the mage seriously.
Dara hadn't over heard much, but something in regards to preparing the vessel. It was what she saw that was more disturbing. Once Zevran had been secured in the tent, they began to work on the Warden. She was in a drug-induced trance, floating paralyzed in a glyph as Lord Fent preformed a ritual, ultimately pouring a black liquid down her throat.
Mira's stomach lurched and she felt sick, tensing her face in disgust. Zevran sat quietly furrowing his brow as he tightened his jaw, hiding his fury.
Dara's eyes had grown heavy and she yawned. They decided they had asked enough questions this evening. She politely excused herself as she shrank back into a sparrow and fluttered off to a nearby branch.
Mira sat staring off into the distance lost in thought. Zevran, empathic to her feelings, reached his arms around her. "Do not trouble yourself with such thoughts," he said almost in a whisper, resting his head on her shoulder. Her face softened as she felt his warm embrace.
"I'm sorry I got you into-" she began, still frightened by the thought of what could have been. He wound himself around her in two fluid movements, kneeling in front of her and taking her face in his hands. He wanted to say more. He wanted to reassure her fears, tell her he was not going anywhere and if she would have him, he would solidify his oath.
All he could bring himself to say was, "You are the only dance I want, my Grey Warden." Behind her affectionate gaze, he could see the fear and sadness in her viridian eyes. A warm smile spread across her lips. He couldn't help but kiss her and lay her down by the fire. A crescent moon hung overhead as they made love.