Chapter 10

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Author's Note: I know the chapters have been short recently. I'm working up to a longer one. As always, I very much appreciate reviews and hope you enjoy.

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This wouldn't do, he thought. He hadn't seen for the rest of the day, and she'd sequestered herself in her room with that knave. He strode purposefully towards her rooms, intent on either chasing Zevran off so they could speak or catching her in the act. The thought caused a lump in his throat, and he quickly rethought his decision, pausing a few yards from the door. Better to know now, he thought finally, and began to walk forward.

The door opened when he was still several feet away, Bronwyn laughing.

"Come, my sweet, favor me with a kiss."

"You rascal," she said with a soft cry and more laughter. He must have embraced her, because her voice was muffled. "I've told you, no! You're being improper!"

"Just one, and if you still-"

"Excuse me!" Otto roared, his arms crossing. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, Otto," Bronwyn breathed. "This isn't what it looks like."

"I'll...I'll be going now," Zevran said, sounding contrite.

Otto waited until his footsteps faded, the strode forward. "What do you think you're playing at?", he said harshly, hating the tone of his voice. His heart was aching, his stomach tied in knots of anger and betrayal. "Inviting him into your room, staying there all day. And now this!"

"We weren't- nothing happened. It's his way," she said desperately, taking his hands in hers. "He flirts, but nothing comes of it."

He jerked his hands away from her. "What were you doing in there?"

"I told you, nothing!"

"Nothing seems to have taken up much of your day," he said. He turned and left, ignoring her pleas behind him.

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Otto rubbed his forehead as he walked, tracing a path through the corridors of the Tower with ease. Bronwyn was no longer seeking him out, and that infuriating assassin was to blame, he was sure of it. He'd traced the halls time and again, hoping to catch her out and about. It stung; he thought they'd been getting on, working towards something deeper, and now one leftover friendship was coming between them.

It was wrong, he knew. Zevran was with her when they defeated the archdemon. From her own tales, he had held her while she cried over the body of the king. Perhaps it was this that scared him, that she had such a great connection to the elf.

He was losing her. He felt it.

It was as he thought this that he came across the last person he wanted or expected to. "Ah, Ser, it is good to see you again."

He froze and turned, attempting a pleasant look but knowing it came off as nauseated at best. "Good morning," he said stiffly.

"Now, no hard feelings here," Zevran said, laughing. "She's yours through and through, Otto, though not for lack of my efforts to the contrary. Perhaps..." he began, his voice sly, "Perhaps we could come to ...some arrangement?"

His heart lifted, though he was confused by the question. "What...what do you mean?"

A light hand touched his arm. "You like elven maidens, do you not? Perhaps an elven male would also be to your liking...?"

"Pardon?" He flinched away, horrified. "You want...you want to...?"

"No, then," came Zevran's voice, sighing with disappointment. "You Fereldens, all tied up with being proper. Well, I'll not stay much longer, though I'll warn you I could pop back in at a moment's notice to whisk her away, so you'll need to be on your best behavior." He chuckled. "Just don't do anything I would do, and you'll be fine."

Zevran was gone within the hour, leaving Otto both relieved and anxious. How could he fix things with Bronwyn?