Chapter 10: A new companion

It had been a tense day.

Virae sat in front of her tent, Caraid still in guard position next to her, considering the elf assassin. She felt uneasy - somehow a piece of information was missing - like one piece of a puzzle that would pull together everything she knew about him.

She possessed a reasonable collection of information about Antiva and the Antivan Crows. The geography, language, and history texts from the Circle library were not her only source. As an apprentice at the Circle tower, her main incentive for helping Senior Enchanter Leorah kill the giant spiders in the storage caves was that she could then search through the crates that were stored there. One especially dusty crate in a forgotten corner had contained a collection of books, including personal journals, belonging to a long-dead Circle mage who had lived in Antiva for over a decade. The mage had been a healer and herbalist, sent to Antiva with a Ferelden nobleman and his family as their personal physician.

The assassin's story, as well as the physical evidence of his Antivan Crow "training", were consistent with everything she knew. Still, something about the assassination attempt eluded her, and her uncertainty was affecting the companion's confidence in her decision not to kill the assassin.

Alistair in particular was not happy with her decision to spare the elf assassin's life, even if they did need all the help they could get. As a precaution, she had agreed to keep his weapons for the time being, at least until they were more confident that he would not try to kill them.

They spent the remainder of the day trying to put as much distance between themselves and the ambush site as possible. It had been an uncomfortable and mostly silent afternoon.

Virae stared intently at the elf for a few more minutes, trying to figure out what detail she had missed. Then she rubbed her temples, stood up, and stretched. Scratching Caraid behind the ears she said, "yes, mo chariad, you need a break too. I'll bet Sandal will throw a stick for you." Caraid barked happily and ran over to the dwarf's wagon.

She glanced back over at the elf, and caught him staring at her, his eyes raking up and down her body lasciviously. She gasped involuntarily as a shiver of desire swept through her body, and comprehension dawned on her at last. She had been trying so hard to analyze the overwhelming variety of details about Antivan Crows, she had completely overlooked one of the deadly weapons in the assassin's arsenal.

The man was devastatingly handsome.

The missing puzzle piece clicked into place, and Virae suddenly knew with complete confidence that accepting Zevran Araina's oath was the correct decision.

Now she just had to convince Alistair.

Zevran Arainai had draped himself casually against a log, affecting disinterest in the camp activities going on around him. Despite this outward appearance, he was acutely aware of exactly what was happening in camp. The large Qunari had carefully inspected the camp perimeter, evaluating it for defensibility, and was now setting up his tent. The tall, handsome Grey Warden had built a rather large campfire, and was now glaring at him grimly, his arms folded. The lovely Orlesian bard had begun some kind of food preparation near the campfire. The witch had set up her tent away from the rest and was currently nowhere to be seen. The fair elven Grey Warden had set up her tent and was sitting in front of it, the Mabari next to her, staring at him. Again.

Zevran had been stared at by beautiful women before, but this was most unusual. There was no veiled communication, no flirtation, only a frustrated stare, like she expected to see… something. And, he was sure that her eyes had been glowing just then…

Ever since waking up with his hands tied and a severe headache, Zevran had studied the companions carefully. The lovely elven mage was clearly the leader and had incomprehensively spared his life, but the others were not comfortable with her decision, and she appeared to retain some trepidation about the choice herself.

The ex-Templar was particular unhappy with Zeran's presence, and was once again glaring at him murderously. Zevran caught himself before he reached automatically for the reassuring handles of his daggers. She had taken all of his weapons while he lay unconscious after the fight. The empty sheaths made him feel naked in a far more uncomfortable way than a lack of clothing ever had.

The fair warden had stopped staring and was stretching with surprising grace, for a mage. Zevran watched as she stood and spoke affectionately to the Mabari who ran off toward the dwarf's wagon. As she turned an unguarded gaze in his direction, he smiled provocatively and ran his eyes over her lovely form.

He watched her eyes widen and heard her sudden intake of breath – this was more like the response he usually evoked in women. But then her eyes narrowed, and she regarded him with a confident smile.

She walked resolutely toward her fellow Grey Warden.

Virae found Alistair cleaning his sword while glaring at Zevran.

Before he could launch into an argument about the assassin, she said "We need to talk about the information Zevran had about Loghain."

Alistair pulled his eyes away from Zevran to look at her "You mean that he's a murdering bastard, and he wants us dead? We already knew that."

"On top of that," she smiled grimly, "He has declared himself regent, he has control of Denerim, and we have to assume he controls the Chantry there as well. And now, apparently, Howe is his right-hand man." Virae shook her head, "Loghain was a legendary strategist, how can he be so foolish to start a civil war in the middle of a Blight."

"The man is insane. He betrayed the king, his own son-in-law." Alistair said angrily. "Arl Eamon has influence with the Landsmeet, he'll know how to stop Loghain."

"Look, Alistair, I know you're anxious to see Eamon… but… my phylactery is in Denerim. If Loghain convinces the Chantry and the Templars to join him, it will be only too easy for them to chase me down…"

Alistair put down his sword and put a comforting arm around her shoulders, "you mean, chase us down."

Virae turned into the half-embrace to face Alistair, and smiled gratefully up at him, "We need to go to the Circle of Magi first, and get their support against the Blight."

Alistair looked into her eyes for a few moments, then abruptly stepped back and cleared his throat. "What about the assassin?" They both turned to look at Zevran.

Alistair dropped his voice, "Did you figure out, you know, whatever it was that was bothering you? We really should execute him. He's dangerous."

"He's an elf. He can hear you." Virae put her hands on her hips and looked up at her fellow Grey Warden. "Yes I figured it out, and no, we definitely are not going to kill him."

"Well, then what are we going to do with him?" Alistair demanded.

With a confident smile, Virae calmly put her hand on Alistair's arm, looked him in the eye and said firmly, "For starters, I'm going to give back his weapons. He gave me his oath, and he won't be much help fighting darkspawn without weapons."

Alistair was, temporarily, speechless.

Virae knew he was a long way from accepting her decision, "Let's talk about it some more after dinner."

Zevran watched the intriguing mage, who might hold his fate in her hands, stroll over to the campfire. He was a little surprised to hear her speaking Orlesian, "Leli, that smells wonderful!" she gave the bard a casual hug.

"And what of the assassin?" the bard looked at him, then quickly looked back at Virae ,"Are you sure we can trust him?"

"Trust is a tricky concept, Leliana, but… I am reasonably sure that I understand his motives."

Leliana ladled the stew into bowls, and Virae picked up two and walked over to where Zevran was still lounging against a log. She handed a bowl to him and then sat down a few feet away.

Zevran mulled over this odd turn of events, and surreptitiously observed the relaxed elf, so different from the lady warden he had studied all day. He tensed for the next round of questions, but she simply ate her meal in silence.

He asked, "Was that Orlesian I heard you speaking with the lovely bard?"

Virae looked at him sharply, "Do you speak it?"

Zevran decided not to reveal that he did. "I've picked up a few words, here and there… enough to order a drink", he smiled suggestively, "and enough to invite company to bed."

"Only the essential phrases, then." She chuckled, "Have you ever been to Orlais?" she asked in Orlesian

Zevran affected a blank look, "My dear warden, you exceed my expertise."

She regarded him skeptically and set her empty bowl on the ground. "How's your head?"

Zevran put a hand to the large bump over his left eye that was the result of Alistair's shield bash, and shrugged "I've had worse".

Virae knelt in front of him. Crystal clear green eyes met wary amber, then her gaze moved to the bruise and she nodded seriously, "I could feel that." Then quietly, almost to herself, "You've had many, many injuries... and expert healers."

What did she mean by that?

Zevran smiled seductively, "None more lovely than you, my dear Warden."

Virae reached her hand toward Zevran, and stopped a few inches from his head. "May I?"

Zevran was perplexed; she was asking his permission to touch him? He nodded, and Virae gently touched his head. Zevran sighed as waves of healing energy radiated from her palm.

He noticed that she had a pleasant smell, like some culinary herb and… jasmine. Ah, jasmine grew everywhere in his warm Antiva city, and in the spring and summer, the delicate white blossoms filled the air with their sweet fragrance. Hmm, there was something else… a taste, like blood on the tongue... metallic, like mage lightening - dangerous and exciting.

Several minutes later she leaned back, "The lump is gone now, but you must tell me if you experience confusion or memory loss, or if you are feeling dizzy. If you have a concussion then you will need rest as well as healing magic to recover. Although…" She smiled slightly, "if you hadn't been knocked unconscious, you might not have survived to be questioned."

"If this rather pleasurable touching is the incentive, I may have to get wounded more often", he purred suggestively.

She smirked and stood up, "Just remember, I can't heal you if you're dead", her tone implying that she could be the cause of said death.

Virae picked up the two bowls and winked at Zevran. "I'll be returning your weapons in the morning," and then she turned and walked purposefully toward Alistair.

Zevran listened to the argument between the two Wardens go on late into the evening. He was surprised to find that the fair warden knew quite a bit about the history of Antiva and the Crows . She also seemed to understand the rather gruesome consequences he was likely to suffer at their hands for his failure. Most intriguing of all was her comprehension regarding the oath he had given her ("Alistair, it followed a very specific, traditional form").

Alistair's argument mostly consisted of repeating the same sentiment, "what part of 'he's an assassin and he tried to kill us' don't you understand!"

To Zevran's relief, Virae finally gave up on her logical and rational approach to the argument and said simply, "Alistair, you are just going to have to trust me on this one." Zevran exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Zevran was lying on his bedroll slightly apart from the tents in camp, feigning sleep. The charming elven warden and Qunari were on last watch, talking occasionally in low tones, but for the most part, sitting in comfortable silence. The air was cool and crisp, here and there he could hear song birds signaling pre-dawn.

Zevran listened as the lovely elf made her way across the camp and into her tent, her footsteps distinct because she was lighter than the other companions. Her obvious attempt at moving stealthily failed completely.

He was curiously aware of her every movement as the mage walked slowly toward him, accompanied by the Mabari. She sat cross-legged an arm's length from his chest, and put something on the ground between them. He heard the sound of polished steel rubbing against polished steel, and realized she had carefully laid his daggers and throwing knives out on a cloth between them. The anticipation of having his weapons back, their comforting presence on his person a constant reassurance, tested his self control, but Zevran continued his slow steady breathing and considered the situation. This rather reminded him of a stall vendor setting up in a marketplace. She would give back his weapons, but she wanted something in return.

Zevran made a show of stretching languorously and opened his eyes to find her regarding him thoughtfully, "My dear warden," he purred, "have you come to join me in my bedroll? It's quite warm, I assure you, although" he pouted, "sadly lacking in privacy."

The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, "We will arrive at a village latter today. We should find a tent for you there. If not, you can use mine and Leli and I can share until we find one."

Zevran sat up slowly and let the blanket fall away from his bare chest, "Ah, but surely two elves would fit so much more… comfortably in one tent." He smiled seductively, and to his satisfaction, she blushed and looked away.

He watched her take a deep breath, reclaiming her composure, then cleared her throat and looked him in the eyes, "I believe we have a few things to discuss before I return these… tools… into your capable hands."

His eyes narrowed and then he carefully arranged his face into his most seductive smile, "what's on your mind, my delicious warden".

In a coy imitation of his accent she said, "My dear assassin, you are on my mind". She hesitated, and then leaned back on her hands, her eyes moving down to the knives between them, and then moving slowly over the tattoos on his naked chest, then up to his face to regard him provocatively through her eyelashes. Her voice was low and husky, "I do believe that you are the most handsome elf I have ever met."

Ah, these Fereldens, so disappointingly direct, he thought, taking all the anticipation and fun out of the game. Still, if this is what she plans to barter, I am most happy to oblige, "Flattery is not needed, you have only to invite me to your tent, if you're of a mind…" he smiled lasciviously.

She took a deep breath, exhaled with a sigh and leaned toward him, "and I would imagine that you are a master in the arts of seduction and… love making?"

Zevran leaned toward her, their lips only a few inches apart, his voice pitched low and compelling "As I will be only too delighted to demonstrate… you will find this trade most… satisfying."

Virae closed her eyes and whispered "I see…"

Abruptly Virae opened her eyes, leaned back, and gestured to the array of weapons between them. "Zevran, these are beautiful weapons. Each one finely and expertly crafted. Deadly in skilled hands… hands such as yours... Am I right?" Her voice was still breathy and seductive, but her eyes were bright and piercing.

That tingling sensation he usually felt when detecting a trap ran through his body. He was instinctively aware that she posed some danger to him, and his senses were instantly on alert. "Yes." He answered simply.

She picked up a dagger and examined it with a flourish, "in your hands, deadly. In my untrained hands, not so much", she smiled, "but even in your hands, if you attempt to cut a throat with the handle, you will fail."

Zevran kept his face carefully blank. More clever than I thought.

"I am no assassin, but I ask myself, why didn't this Crow arrange to meet us on the road, convince us of his selfless desire to defend Thedas from darkspawn, and join our little band? With some slow-acting poison you could easily have arranged for Alistair to die during a fight, and then seduced me and killed me in my sleep."

Anger was slipping around his composure, but as he looked into her face, Zevran was startled by the compassion he saw there.

"The Crows fashioned you into a deadly living weapon, with an irresistible lure. So why didn't you utilize the weapon you are to best advantage? Antivan Crows almost never work in groups of more than three, but you hired a bunch of Crow apprentices and thugs to help you ambush Grey Wardens." She paused and then whispered, "You did not intend to survive the fight."

Zevran almost let the shock show on his face. Almost.

"Our mission to end the Blight may seem suicidal. But every one of us loves life, and I think that's why we fight so hard. We survive because we watch each other's back and support each other. To keep your oath to me, I expect you to do the same. These people are my family, and I will not tolerate anyone putting them at risk to pursue his own death. Do we have an understanding?" She stared into his eyes for several moments until he nodded once.

"Right then", she stood up, brushing pine needles off her robes, the serious mood gone. She smiled down at him brightly, "welcome to our little group."

Zevran listened to her retreating footsteps as he automatically reached out for his main-hand dagger. He felt the satisfying comfort of its weight in his hand before smoothly slipping it into the sheath. He pulled on his armor and settled the rest of his weapons into place, feeling suddenly lighter as the tension of their absence vanished.

On the other side of camp the fair warden was intently engaged in a conversation with the Qunari, that somehow included the Mabari. Zevran smiled inwardly in anticipation. Beautiful, intelligent, insightful, as well as dangerous - an intriguing combination. She would succumb eventually, of that he had no doubt, and the pursuit promised to be delightfully challenging.

Thanks again to Angry Girl for another review!