Author's Note: This is the last chapter that I have finished at the moment, so the next updates might come slower now.

Thank you all for continuing to read. :-]

Chapter Rating: T

Pairing: Zevran/(M)Tabris

Chapter 11

Cursed Hearts

Niko woke up pressed against Zevran's chest, too warm for the early autumn morning. He heard something strange outside the tent, some kind of scratching and it took him a moment to realize it was his mabari digging at the ground close by.

Too close actually.

He rubbed his eyes and felt Zevran shift behind him. The assassin was already awake, now sitting up and staring drowsily at the flap of the tent where the sound was coming from.

"I don't know if that will work, but thanks for trying. I really really don't want to go in there."

That was Alistair.

He was answered with a gleeful bark from Gideon.

"I believe we may have overslept," Zevran commented while Niko stifled a groan.

The amount of light filtering into the tent told Niko that he was right.

"Oh. Are you two finally awake in there?" Alistair spoke up, sounding a bit awkward as he stood just outside the tent. "Good. None of us wanted to wake you. Unfortunately, I drew the short stick."

Niko sighed. "We'll be right out."

He sat up and rifled through their discarded clothing, ready to get back to reality. Zevran, however, was content to lie back and just watch Niko get dressed for the moment, a smug little smirk on his face.

"See? I knew this would happen eventually. I should have warned you right from the moment you refused to kill me. It was inevitable."

Niko pulled his tunic over his head and glanced back at Zevran, raising an eyebrow at him. "And here I thought I seduced you."

"O-ho!" Zevran grinned and finally sat up. "Such subtlety in your seductive charms that I was not even aware of them. A work of art in motion perhaps?" He rubbed his chin, appraising Niko, who turned to face Zevran with a haughty look of his own. And he threw Zevran's shirt at him.

They began taking down the tent together, while the others were mostly already packed up and now working on breakfast. They received a few curious glances from Leliana and Morrigan, and Niko guessed that what had happened between Zevran and him was probably obvious.

Had they been too loud last night? Or had someone peeked in to wake him and found them sleeping next to each other? He ignored those thoughts and the embarrassed blush that crept up his skin. He didn't want to get stuck on worrying what the others might think or say, and he wasn't sure what sleeping with Zevran might mean, if it would lose him respect among his companions perhaps. He hadn't considered that possibility at all last night actually. It just felt… inevitable, as Zevran put it. The flirting and the heated kiss back at the castle, it all led up to last night.

With the risen sun high above them, the two elves worked together to roll up the tent before standing to face each other.

"So then," Zevran spoke up again, going for casual laced with serious inquiry to voice what was on both of their minds. "As the Priestess so famously said to the handsome actor… what now?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Niko admitted.

Zevran crossed his arms and his tone took on a note of businesslike calm. "Allow me to make it simple for you, my Grey Warden. What comes next is entirely up to you." When Niko's eyes narrowed at being saddled with all the decision-making yet again, Zevran went on to explain himself. "I was raised to take my pleasures where they could be found, for they do not come often. I shall ask nothing more of you than you are willing to give."

Niko looked to Zevran's eyes to see the assassin was watching him intently, though he was unable to read any emotion from the expression.

He didn't like this. Zevran wasn't exactly putting his cards on the table, so to speak. How was Niko supposed to know if there were any feelings involved here? He assumed there wasn't; this was just for fun. Maybe he was supposed to assume that. As for his own feelings… he wasn't sure. Perhaps Zevran wasn't either.

He decided leaving his options open would be the best way to go, as he certainly wasn't against a repeat of last night.

"Sounds fine by me."

Zevran grinned again. "I must admit, we have come very far from those early days when I tried to kill you and you decided not to kill me. Fate is such a tricky whore, isn't she?"

Niko smiled and shook his head at the almost philosophical air to Zevran's question. "That she is."

-o-o-o-

They did not find Sten's sword. But within the trees just beyond Calenhad's docks, among wolf-torn scraps, thick bones, and other putrid remains… there was a lead. A single scavenger rummaging through the worthless heaps told them he learned of these "picking grounds" from a guy named Faryn, who likely already made off with anything of value, including Sten's sword. They were told he would probably be in Orzammar.

Unfortunately they were headed in the opposite direction, and they weren't going to backtrack off their planned route now. So all they could do was hope Faryn would still be there later.

They ran into the usual along the way to eastern Ferelden; darkspawn, bandits, and beasties. They ran into the not-so-usual as well though. Not far from Lake Calenhad, they travelled into Bann Loren's lands where they found the Bann's men attacking one of King Cailan's honor guard. Before the man died, he managed to tell Niko and Alistair of important documents that were hidden back at Ostagar. It was one more reason for them to return now. After they left Redcliffe, Niko had promised Morrigan he would go back to, well… kill her mother.

He wasn't keen on the idea. After all, Flemeth had been the one to save him and Alistair. He was also trying to ignore the part of him that wondered if Morrigan was just trying to get him to do her dirty work for some scheme. But she had seemed genuinely distraught over what she had read in Flemeth's book; he couldn't blame her after she told him what it said. So it seemed they would be heading south after their business in the Brecilian forest.

The wandering elves proved very difficult to find, however. They spent days trekking through the outskirts, finding nothing but a few stray wolves and one bear that they managed to avoid. Though with each step, Niko felt eyes on him. The others felt it, too.

It perhaps would have been easier to see if anyone was watching them if the forest weren't so dense, filled with the thickest, green pines and rising oaks. Autumn had taken hold, painting many of the trees in fiery shades, though the leaves had not yet all died and fallen away.

Niko knew the Dalish were out there. Many of his kin back home thought they were a myth, though others believed enough to seek out the Dalish themselves, hoping for a freer life. Niko had even considered doing the same when he was a bit younger, though he had never seriously considered it. He loved his family too much, and there were plenty of things about the Alienage that he liked despite his wish to leave it. Whether or not the Dalish truly existed mattered little to Niko until the day he held the treaty requesting their aid in a Blight. It was proof enough for him. Though it didn't really matter whether or not he believed if they couldn't find a clan in Ferelden.

Their search was nearly a week in progress when they were met on the path by a fair-haired elven woman. She was flanked by two other elves, all three of them dressed in leathers and armed with bows or swords. They were obviously waiting for the group. Evidently, they had a much easier time tracking Niko and his companions than they'd had at finding the Dalish.

"Hold, outsider," the woman said, raising her hand in a halting gesture. Her eyes fell to Niko, who preceded the party. "You may be one of my kind, but you are not Dalish. Why are you here?"

Niko glanced between the other elves, his gaze lingering briefly on the ornate tattoos decorating their faces.

So these were the Dalish… He could think of several people back home who would never ever believe he was seeing this.

"I have business with your leader actually," he informed.

"What business is that?" the Dalish woman asked, her tone marginally sharper than the businesslike cool she had met them with.

Niko warily eyed the archer in the back, wondering how fast his draw was.

He doubted the Dalish would turn them in to Teryn Loghain or Arl Howe, though. They didn't exactly play well with humans from what he'd heard of them. So he told her the truth. "I'm a Grey Warden."

The woman seemed to take pause, raising her chin to peer downward at him, her eyes shining with what looked to be some amount of interest. "That is not a lie many would attempt," she mused. "I will bring you to the Keeper then, and he will decide if your business is worthwhile."

-o-o-o-

Along with Alistair, Zevran, and Morrigan, Niko soon found himself venturing deeper into the Brecilian forest than even the Dalish dared to go. They had to if they were going to have the elves on their side.

"Of course the werewolves just had to attack the Dalish during a Blight, didn't they?" Niko complained as the four of them approached a rickety bridge above a narrow waterfall.

"Just like the Circle Tower had to go and get overrun with demons and abominations, too." Alistair chimed in. "Perhaps all the tunnels will just collapse when we get to Orzammar."

"It wouldn't surprise me in the least," Niko grumbled. As they walked along the wooden boards, water rushing beneath them, they passed a strange teal-colored lantern hung upon a short tree. He supposed maybe the Dalish had put it there, but everyone in the clan was forbidden to enter the forest by Keeper Zathrian. The ferns beneath were basking in witch light, giving them an eerie glow. They all gave it a suspicious glance as they passed before turning their attention to the haunted forest ahead of them.

They had to fight a few wolves not far in. One of them was infected with Blight corruption. It didn't take much longer to find the darkspawn after that; a couple of hurlocks and an ogre.

They didn't come across any werewolves yet though.

Niko was a bit ahead of the others when Alistair and Morrigan started bickering again. He was kind of grateful that he couldn't quite make out what they were saying. Zevran perhaps had the same idea when he walked ahead and sidled up next to Niko.

They looked to each other, a companionable smile settling on Zevran's face that Niko returned.

They hadn't spoken much back at the Dalish camp. Niko had been busy gathering supplies and speaking to a few members of the clan. It had been strange interacting with the Dalish. There were plenty of warm welcomes, though it was meshed with outright confusion and unintentional judgment towards him for being an elf from one of the shemlen cities. By the time they headed into the forest, Niko was only glad to deal with werewolves instead of more members of the Dalish clan. He was tired of the condescension caked in politeness.

He wasn't sure what Zevran had thought of all of it. The only comment the Antivan had made was when they had walked into the camp, saying that forests were filthy and that he considered himself more of a city boy.

"What do you think of the Dalish?" he asked the tattooed elf.

"I know little enough of the Dalish other than the fact that my mother was one. Or so I was told." Zevran shrugged. "She had fallen in love with an elven woodcutter and accompanied him back to the city, leaving her clan behind for good. And there, of course, the woodcutter died of some filthy disease and my mother was forced into prostitution to pay off his debts. Oldest tale in the book."

Niko frowned and searched for an appropriate response to that. "Was the woodcutter your father?"

"How should I know? My mother was a whore, as you'll recall. None of the other whorehouse boys knew their fathers. I didn't know my mother either, of course. She died giving birth to me. My first victim, as it were." He tried to give a cynical smile, but it came out as more of a wince. "We were all raised communally by the whores. It was a happy enough existence, ignoring the occasional beating, until eventually I was sold to the Crows. I brought a good price, so I hear."

Niko looked to him while silence fell upon them for the moment, the quiet broken only by their companions' snippy voices behind them. "I'm sorry, Zev."

"That is very kind of you to say, but it is not necessary," Zevran responded immediately to what he thought was pity. Looking up at Niko, though, it was empathy that he saw. "It could have been much worse. Shall I tell you about what happened to the other whorehouse boys who did not fetch a decent price with the Crows?" He caught Niko's gaze. "Surely your life has not been so idyllic? People like you and I are not the product of happy lives of contentment after all."

"…You can say that again," Niko replied, pulling his eyes away. He wondered if that had been Zevran's way of inviting him to share more, but he didn't really want to talk about his own childhood at this very moment.

Zevran sighed. "My original point is that my mother's Dalish nature was always a point of fascination for me. Through all the years of my Crow training, the one thing of my mother's that I possessed was a pair of gloves. They were of Dalish make, I knew that much, and beautiful. I had to keep them hidden, of course, as we were not allowed such things. Eventually they were discovered and I never saw them again."

"So you don't think of yourself as Dalish at all?"

"Not at all. I think of myself as Antivan." He smirked. "Still, that did not stop me from running off to join a clan when it drew near Antiva City once. Naturally the reality did not live up at all to the fantasies I had constructed as a boy, staring at those gloves. But such is life."

"You're not even listening to me," Alistair said indignantly behind them. Both elves turned to see Alistair glaring at the dark-haired witch.

"My, you are smarter than you look after all," she mocked.

"Don't you two get tired of irritating each other?" Niko asked.

They both quieted down, though Niko was pretty sure he heard Alistair grumble something like "she started it". He watched Zevran collect elfroot and deathroot as they walked along. There was an abundant supply all around them, useful for potions and salves they could put together later.

It was eerily quiet for a forest; not enough birds or bees going about their business. Niko looked up when he heard the rush of a waterfall ahead, spilling out over a cliff wall. Another set of boards were laid out for them to cross. But as they neared, three dark figures dashed through the forestry on the other side, almost too fast for him to see. But they were definitely werewolves, he knew, even if he'd never seen one before. The shadows revealed only shaggy silhouettes and a resolute, wild gait. A chill ran up Niko's spine as the feral creatures, long-limbed and burly, sprinted right towards them. They all reached for their weapons, but paused when the werewolves stopped to stand on a patch of earth in the middle of the water… waiting for them.

Niko left his dagger sheathed, raising his hand to signal for his teammates to do the same. Then he stepped onto the bridge to cross towards the beasts, keeping guarded eyes on them. Standing at twice his height at least, they had big, barrel chests, and thick, matted hair sprouting along every swell of muscle.

They spoke, which was surprising. They also did not attack, which was even more surprising. Some threats were exchanged, but no blood was shed. When the three werewolves retreated back into the forest, Niko was left puzzled. These were not exactly the untamed beasts he had expected.

It didn't matter though. He had to find a cure so the Dalish could heal their infected and join with the army against the Blight. And the cure laid within Witherfang.

The sun was setting by the time they made it into the eastern part of the forest, so they decided to rest rather than get lost in the dark.

Dinner was bread and berries from their packs and the rabbit Morrigan caught, cooked over a small fire she had put together almost all on her own after the rest of them failed to catch a spark. They were all rather grateful she had so much experience living in deep woods… and could magically set fire to a stack of logs.

They slept in shifts. A forest with werewolves and tears in the Fade was too dangerous a place to let their guards drop.

Zevran woke to a sharp stab in the ass, courtesy of Morrigan's wooden staff.

"Your turn," she chirped whilst walking over to her own bedroll on the opposite side of the fire.

Zevran rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stood, thinking of a witty retort too late, as Morrigan was already drifting off. His eyes scanned the camp to see Alistair splayed out on the ground snoring, and Niko tucked soundly in his bedroll. Zevran took up a station under the low-hanging branches of a tree, piercing the tips of his daggers into the ground, within easy reach of where he sat at the base.

The cold, still, autumn air kept him alert as the night passed before him uneventfully. He watched a couple of halla wander into a nearby clearing, their white coats and spiraling horns almost luminous under the pure shine of the moon. One lifted its head and took notice of Zevran, the animal's large eyes boring into the elf's golden stare.

A sudden noise startled the halla and they darted off back into the trees while Zevran looked to where the sound was coming from. He saw Niko thrashing a bit in his bedroll, teeth clenched and head tossing back and forth in his sleep. He continued to observe the Warden for a moment, unsure if he should wake him from the nightmare.

All Niko could see was filth. The lands were covered by darkspawn marching over the hills and plains in droves, like swarms of roaches scattering the nation. And above the sea of darkspawn and blighted soil was an evil entity, the archdemon soaring and sounding a deafening roar.

He awoke with a gasp, breathing in crisp, cold air.

The debris and the chaos were gone, replaced with a crackling fire and the shock of cold sweat. Opening his eyes, the lingering dread slowly washed away as he counted the stars. Niko had never seen so many dotting the sky at once, framed by great spruce trees towering high above like sentinels guarding him through the night. He stared up at the heavenly scene until the nightmare was forgotten; until all that remained was the chill on his skin and the scent of burning wood and elfroot around him.

Niko sat up, rubbing a sore spot in his shoulder where he apparently slept on a rock. That's when he felt eyes on him, and he glanced to the left to see Zevran watching him from under the shadows of a low tree limb.

"Bad dreams?" came the assassin's soothing voice in hushed tones.

Niko stared at him a moment and decided not to answer right away. Instead he stood up, ignoring the chill of Harvestmere as he went to sit beside Zevran.

"Just more darkspawn nightmares," he whispered.

"You have those quite a bit," Zevran observed.

"Alistair says they can be worse for those that join during a Blight."

"Hm." Zevran didn't ask about the nightmares. He'd tried before when he began to notice them, but Niko would only tell him that it was part of being a Grey Warden, that it had to do with their connection to the darkspawn. It was also a "trade secret" of sorts, so he couldn't go blathering about it.

"I'm fine," Niko promised.

And he honestly sounded fine, Zevran noted. The stress that came with leading them all against the Blight seemed to have lessened a bit for Niko over the last few days, and they'd all taken notice. Zevran was cocky, and he'd be the first to admit to such, but he wasn't sure he could claim responsibility for this particular change in their leader. And yet he couldn't think of anything that could have spurred it besides the new... developments in their relationship.

"Of course, my dear Warden." Zevran smiled as he curled an arm around Niko's waist. "So you've come to keep me company on my watch?"

Niko nodded and Zevran's smile turned into a grin.

"Ah good. I have a question for you then." He turned his head a bit to hold Niko's gaze, playfulness settling just beneath his neutral features. "How well versed are you in poetry? Antivan poetry, specifically."

Niko shook his head. "I know nothing of poetry," he admitted.

"Trust me. You'll know even less after I tell you this." Niko could heard the mirth beneath Zevran's words and it made him smile. "It was recited to me, as I recall, by a rather wealthy target of mine." The assassin cleared his throat and went on to retell it, doing his best to deliver the lines with feeling. "The symphony I see in thee, it whispers songs to me. Songs of hot breath upon my neck. Songs of soft grunts by my head. Songs of hands on muscled back. Songs of thee… come to my bed."

He grinned wickedly at the end and Niko's eyebrows rose in surprise. Though it wasn't the best poem (even he knew that), it managed to bring forth imagery of that first night with Zevran anyway. And for that reason, he really liked it.

"What is that?" He finally asked after a moment of silence, a grin spreading across his face. "Sex poetry?"

"Psh. So she claimed," Zevran smirked and glanced away to stare ahead into the forest. "She was trying to seduce me, you see, and somehow thought that this would actually convince me to spare her." The fingers curled around Niko's waist had started to move, tracing lightly over the skin under the Warden's long-sleeved tunic. "I had sex with her anyway, but that goes without saying. She still had to die. The poem was amusing at the time, however, and thus I've always remembered it."

"So you thought to seduce me with it?" Niko inquired with a smirk of his own.

"Hmm now that is a thought, isn't it?" Zevran grinned and looked to Niko again, drawing him a bit closer. "Would it work?"

"It might," Niko teased.

"I'll have to keep that in mind. My usual methods of seduction are more direct," he replied. "Here I thought you might be cheered up by some naughty poetry. You simply look so… grim." He smiled. "Such an unflattering expression for such a handsome face."

"You think I'm handsome do you?" Niko only smirked more.

"Ah who wouldn't?" Zevran's eyes glinted with mischief and charm. "Burn me in the Chantry if you must, but you are a man to stoke the lust in women and other men alike." He leaned in, lips teasingly close to Niko's for a moment before pulling away. "But surely you know this and you are playing with me."

Niko chuckled under his breath and leaned in closer to the other elf.

"Me," Zevran went on. "I tend to make the best of whatever situation I find myself in, stealing what moments I can. It's served me well most days. You might learn to do the same."

Niko rolled his eyes fondly at Zevran's words. Stealing moments. What else did Zevran think he was doing here sitting with him when he could be sleeping instead?

"I think I do the same actually," he replied, resting his head on Zevran's shoulder.

"Oh? Then I learn something new about you every day."

They sat in silence for a few moments, relaxing in the warmth they could provide one another. Unknown to the Warden, Zevran was going through a debate in his head, wondering if he should have told that awful poem, or mentioned that he'd slept with his target before killing her in cold blood. He had told such tales before, of course. Though now he wondered if admitting to murdering his targets after getting in to bed with them was wise, considering the Warden had been a target of his and now they were sleeping together. He was trying to maintain Niko's trust, not plant seeds of doubt. The others still sometimes openly voiced their reservations about Zevran, questioning his intentions and loyalties.

But, he told himself, Niko had to accept this part of him. His past could not be erased and, truthfully, Zevran was not ashamed of it. Not most of it anyway, no.

He had no intentions of harming the Warden or any of the others. Niko seemed to believe that though, and that was how Zevran wanted it to remain. This was not a mission for the Crows anymore. He was free of them. And he had Niko to thank for that.

He glanced down at the Warden, who continued to let his head rest on Zevran's shoulder. The assassin closed his eyes a moment, letting fingers that rested against Niko's side roam gently over his smooth, tan skin.

The Warden had to know this was not a trick, Zevran told himself. Cuddling under a tree with his target had never been part of his schemes. That thought alone bothered Zevran some. This was actually quite unfamiliar territory for him, not something he'd normally do with someone, not with a lover or anyone.

While he was having this internal struggle and Niko was almost drifting off to sleep where he was, they both heard something strange a few yards off. Listening carefully, they could hear what sounded like heavy dragging along the soil, accompanied by shallow, pained breaths and whines, like a dog's.

They stood, both of them grabbing their daggers before creeping closer to investigate.

Following a narrow dirt path through some trees, the two of them both froze when they saw what was making the noise.

A werewolf was dragging itself along the path, belly to the ground and back muscles bunched in pain. There didn't appear to be any injuries, but the creature collapsed with breathy, aching whines. Large eyes turned on them, shining under the moonlight with magic and tears… staring… pleading.

"P-please… help…" the beast called to them both, each word a struggle. "Listen… I am not… the mindless beast I appear to be…"

They approached cautiously, though Niko couldn't help but feel sorrow for the werewolf. "What happened to you?" It was then that he noticed the fabric wrapped around the werewolf's neck. It appeared to be a scarf, brown with a pattern that reminded him of the Dalish tattoos.

"They… I am cursed… turned into this creature. The curse, it… it burns in me!" The creature yelled in pain as it struggled to rise to a kneeling position before them. "I… fled into the forest. The werewolves, they… took me in. But I had to return. I had to!"

"Careful." They heard Alistair behind them and turned to see he and Morrigan approaching, armed, though still wearing their night clothes. "The werewolves might have laid a trap for us, or something. You never know."

Niko turned back to face the werewolf, who looked up at them all with pain etched into every feature. Unblinking, it gazed upon the new humans for a long moment before settling mournful eyes on Niko.

"You are… an elf." The creature's sentence broke off in a high pitch, obviously holding back pain and sadness. It broke Niko's heart. "But not one of the Dalish. I was, until my… change." The werewolf whimpered and broke off into strained speech again "Have you… seen my clan?"

"Your keeper, Zathrian, is the one who sent us here," Niko answered.

"The keeper sent you? Then… you seek Witherfang," the creature realized, ducking its head.

"I do. Have you seen him?" Niko asked.

"I have, but…" It lifted its head to look at him again. "It is not what you think. But… there is no time to explain. You must listen…" The creature groaned and tried to ignore the pain so it could continue speaking. "My name is Danyla."

Niko's eyes widened in recognition, recalling that he had met an elf back at the Dalish camp looking for his wife, whose name was Danyla. He remembered the man as one of the few who didn't treat him like he wasn't elf enough for them.

"My husband… He is called Athras. Please, you must… bring him a message." The creature huffed as the burn of the curse grew more difficult to withstand. "The scarf I wear… bring it to him. Tell him I love him…" She whimpered. "Tell him… I am dead and with the gods. I beg you…"

"I spoke to Athras," Niko told her. "He worries about you."

"I want him to be at peace," she begged. "He is a good man. Please, do not… let him suffer thinking of me." She choked and her body writhed. "Ah! The pain! The curse… is fire in my blood! Please! End it for me! End it quickly!"

"I will," Niko promised, raising his dagger.

Danyla stood, bulky body hunched over unsteady legs.

"Gods bless you," were her last words as the long blade of the dagger sank into her heart.

The four of them stood back as she dropped with a pained grunt, blood pooling out beneath her body. Niko stepped forward and unwrapped the tattered scarf from around her neck, now soaked red.

"She said that she saw Witherfang," Niko spoke as he carefully folded the fabric. He looked up to gauge his companions' thoughtful expressions. "But it's not what we think…?"