Updated on 6/3/12. I didn't like the way I had this chapter plotted out. It was too choppy and needed a major overhaul. Hopefully this is better than the last version which seemed to be missing….its muchness. There's some M/M action so if that's not your bag, well, I did mark it M for a reason. Thank you to those who pointed out some really bad typos and crimes against grammar :)

Over Hill & Over Dale

The Wardens and their companions hadn't realized just how close they were to the Dalish until they arrived under heavy guard at the Dalish base camp. The hunters were not gentle to any of them, not even Zevran, although it didn't start out that way. The second he stood up from shielding Alyssa, his daggers were out and held to the neck of one of the assailants. A female elf with elaborate tattoos on her scowling face had approached Zevran and the hunter he had at knife point. "You're under no obligation to protect the shemlen, brother. You are free now to do as you will."

"Then I will guard her until my last breath, if you don't mind," he said. After that he was treated like the rest of them, relieved of his weapons and separated from his teammates. The same elf that spoke to him appeared to be the leader of the Dalish hunting party. She had the Wardens and their companions walk single file, two elves to each prisoner, deep into the forest. At least they weren't tied up or blindfolded, but they were clearly not free to leave.

As far as being captive goes it wasn't such an ordeal, save for one of the young hunters who took a sick interest in Alyssa, following her too closely and whispering poisoned words in her ear. He was tall with long black braided hair and dressed in green leathers. Zevran had tried to stay as near as possible, but the guards and the narrow path through the trees made it difficult. He could intervene if things got ugly, however it would be quiet difficult and he might get killed in the process. Then what good was he to her? Zevran's sharp ears picked up the conversation, if you wanted to call it that. The more he heard the more he wanted to slit the bastard's throat.

"I once cut up a pretty shem girl like you," the dark haired Dalish said. "It took three days for her to die, but I was feeling compassionate. I could have made it last much longer. Would you like that, sweetness?" He kept stride with her, "Would you like to feel my blade in you?"

The Warden kept her face forward, not so much as glancing at the hunter. Her voice was steady as she replied. "Is that your way of offering a little prick?" She made sure to put the emphasis on 'little'.

His pursed his lips, the corner of his mouth twitching upward, "You're a healer. I could tell from the magic you used to help your friend." He thrust his chin in Zevran's direction. "Some of our healers can regenerate themselves. I swear their wounds don't even bleed. Can you do that?"

"Five seconds per square inch."

The hunter started running his fingers up and down the blades of his sheathed daggers. It was a slow sensual motion, caressing it like a lover, like it was part of him. He smiled, gliding the tip of his tongue across his lips, "I could drag you out for weeks."

Zevran felt the hackles rise on the back of his neck.

"I wouldn't suggest it." All Zevran saw was her back because of the line they were in, but he could still hear her voice. She sounded bored. "You'd be dead in twenty seconds after I popped your lungs in your chest, unless the shock kills you first. Makes it hard to do much when you're choking on a gurgling rush of blood."

"I don't need to be close to you to kill you."

Alyssa slowly turned to the hunter. She drew her eyes to his face, cold dark slits, and whispered, "Neither do I."

Zevran felt a coil of heat tighten below his stomach sending a bolt of pleasure up his spine. A little moan escaped him. Really, the way she carried on sometimes it was enough to make him blush. Imagine what she could do with some restraints and a studded leather corset. That mental picture wasn't helping, but oh Maker he would be saving that for later.

Eventually they were brought directly to the Keeper when they entered the camp. By some miracle, Alistair was able to convince the guard leader that they were in fact Grey Wardens seeking the aid of the Dalish. The assassin leaned against one of the aravels with Ashfur at his feet snoring softly while both Wardens spoke with Keeper Zathrian. The Keeper was giving them a hard time, but at least he wasn't as forceful as the escort. Zevran only caught pieces of the conversation, something about werewolves and a disease, or whatever. Couldn't she just wiggle her fingers and be done with it? The dark haired elf that harassed her was still lingering about.

Alyssa approached her team. "I'm going to need the heavy hitters for this one. Sten, Alistair, Morrigan, the rest of you can relax for a while until we return. I'm not sure how long this will take, so I'd like to get moving soon. Navigating the forest at night doesn't fill me with girlish glee."

When the recon team headed for the weapons master to load up on supplies, Zevran lightly touched Alyssa's shoulder to get her attention, "You're leaving me behind?" He didn't mean for it to sound, well, pathetic, but he couldn't calm his nerves.

"Actually, I need you here," she pulled him off to the side, out of range of her team and as many hunters that were visible. She spoke low and close to his ear. "I need you do some listening for me while we're gone. Zathrian isn't telling us everything and if we're walking into a trap, you'll have to bring Leliana and Wynne into the forest to find us."

"I understand, but—"

"Please, Zev, I need you to do this for me. They won't open up to a shem, but they might talk to you."

"You're being very foolish," he said. He leaned in close and spoke low, "I don't like the thought of you traveling a dark forest with that culero following you." As if merely mentioning the hunter would summon him, Zevran's hands slid to his daggers' hilts.

She laughed, "What am I supposed to do? Leave? We have work here."

"Take me with you. All the time I have been in your company I've never seen you cast an attack spell or seen you kill anything. I'm starting to wonder if you can protect yourself at all."

Alyssa narrowed her eyes at him and raised her voice, "I did just fine before you. Don't speak to me as if I'm some helpless little girl!"

Zevran clenched his teeth, "I wouldn't if you would learn to fight."

"I know how to fight. Don't forget who kicked your ass."

"The dog." Before she even thought about pulling rank, he said, "Think about where you are before you bring up anything that followed." Alyssa looked away from him. The grip she had on her staff made her knuckles turn white. Zevran didn't care. He knew he was right and if she refused to protect herself then she better get used to the fact that she'd be seen as a little girl. She was a Warden. She was supposed to be a killer.

He was surprised to suddenly see her expression soften and the death grip on her staff easing. "Why are you so afraid for me?"

He knew that look. If she thought for one moment that she was more to him than a means to an end...well, it was absurd. Wasn't it? "If you die, I die. My fate is tied up in yours for the time being. You don't honestly think that Alistair will keep me safe from the Crows if something happens to you, do you?"

"Yes, I do."

"Then he is just as stupid as you are." He waved her off, crossing his arms.

The apples of her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink when she smiled and bit her lip. The assassin did his best not to notice and even went so far as turning his head, but when Alyssa brushed her hand against his cheek his resolve waned. "I'll come back. I promise."

He swallowed hard, but nodded all the same. "Alyssa," he hesitated, looking into her brown eyes, "every one of these hunters knows the forest as if it was part of them. Please be on your guard always." She saw his concern. She must have.

"I will."

Arms still crossed and frowning, Zevran watched her and the others enter the Brecilian Forest until she turned a corner and vanished completely from sight. A wistful sigh came from behind him. "She's certainly something isn't she?" The dark haired elf had joined Zevran in watching the Wardens head into the forest. "Is she yours?"

"Hardly," Zevran snorted. "Grey Wardens belong to no one. But the pay is good. Otherwise I wouldn't be caught dead with this band of merry fools. You on the other hand," he let his eyes wander up the young Dalish's form, "seem very capable, and not foolish in anyway."

"I'm sorry for the show of force earlier, brother," he smiled and introduced himself. "My name is Dassan."

"Zevran." They clasped hands, "Very charmed to meet you, brother." Zevran brushed his thumb along the back of Dassan's gloved hand. In the brief moment he had, the assassin studied him. Thin ink lines formed a leafless tree tattoo over the elf's entire face, framing his blue eyes and thin lips. His cheekbones were high and defined, flattering his square jaw. All in all, he was a very handsome fellow. Tall, lithe, black hair in a long braid reaching to his waist, strong lean arms and skin the color of cream all wrapped in fine dark green and brown leather armor. Zevran held his hand a moment longer than was proper.

Dassan lowered his lashes and smiled. "Your accent. You're not from around here are you?"

"I hail from Antiva, originally."

"So far from here? What brought you to Ferelden?"

"The promise of money, glory and a favor for a friend."

The hunter tilted his head, "What kind of favor?"

He rolled his eyes. "A friend of mine was in love with tales of the Grey Wardens, but too much of a coward to leave Antiva by himself. You know how it goes." Dassan smiled and nodded. Zevran continued, "His ceaseless researching paid off when he heard of the Ferelden Wardens mounting an attack at Ostagar. After weeks of begging and pleading, which was completely unbecoming, I said I would travel with him. As you no doubt heard, it didn't end well." He hooked a thumb at the direction of the forest entrance. "I woke up with that simpering wench hanging over me, being lectured about the finer points of dodging arrows."

"Not your type is she?"

"I'm not paid nearly enough, my friend." He rested his hands on the hilts of his daggers. "She insists on helping every sob story we come across. Not to dismiss your troubles. Frankly this is the first worthy cause we've yet discovered." The Crow training was not so far from memory. It was familiar. He found the seduction flow easily from his body language, the lies steady from his lips. The hunter may be as sly as Zevran, but there was one thing that he wanted just like everyone else: attention.

"So she makes the decisions? Not the big shem and the giant?"

"As a rule, they look to her. Shemlen." He shrugged. "They don't have Keepers to guide them so they follow the first strong arm and big mouth that they meet. It's a shame your tribe is having the trouble it is, and yet I'm sure your Keeper has done everything he can." It was slight, but Zevran saw how Dassan shifted his eyes away, his smile faltering. He tilted his head, "Is something the matter, brother?"

"I shouldn't speak to an outsider..." Dassan narrowed his eyes.

Zevran leaned in close, "I can think of many things to do other than speak."

The Dalish elf grinned, showing his sharp canine teeth. "Follow me. I know just the place." He took Zevran by the hand and guided him to the opposite end of the camp. A small overgrown path led from the camp to a different forest entrance. Zevran hesitated, "Didn't your keeper forbid you to go into the forest?"

Dassan said, "It's ok. No one else knows about this."

"I didn't know the Dalish made a habit of hiding secrets from their Keeper."

"Oh sweet brother," he said, a bemused smile on his face, "you have no idea how many secrets our Keeper holds for himself." He motioned for Zevran to follow. The assassin it seemed was not the only one who wore cloak of the deceiver well.

They strolled through the ancient trees, among the dappled sunlight with vibrant green moss underfoot silencing their steps. Dassan rarely had to look down to guide his feet. Instead he kept glancing at Zevran, smiling when the assassin looked up in awe at the canopy overhead. He kissed Zevran's knuckles, holding his gaze with an icy blue stare. A chill swept through him, looking into those cold eyes, seeing no mirth at all. This Dalish was no Crow, but they would have paid a king's ransom to have him.

Smells of wildflowers and good earth mingled with wisps of crisp air winding through the whole of the forest. The hunter guided him across a trail of large stones nestled in a river that flowed from a lazy waterfall, tucked in between a rocky hillside. He watched the water tumble and sparkle in the sun, crystal clear. Hot breath near his ear startled him and he had to force a moan when Dassan dragged his tongue across Zevran's bare neck.

"What do you think?" Dassan asked.

"Your forest is beautiful," he said. "So full of life and light. It makes the city seem like a tarnished tea set."

The hunter sucked on his teeth as he looked up and down Zevran's body, "And what does that make you, city brother?" He didn't blink. The whole time they were together he might have blinked twice. Under his constant stare, Zevran felt exposed, but damn it if he let this creep know.

"A diamond in the rough."

A smile that didn't reach his eyes played on Dassan's face, "We're almost there."

Zevran kept close to the hunter, wondering how far into the woods they were traveling. They started to pass ruined archways and fallen trees. Headstones jutted out of the strangest places, cracked and worn. Just before he was going to ask how much further, Dassan stopped. They were on a small hill overlooking an abandoned camp site clearing. The hill was tucked in among a thick tree line choked with underbrush and vines. One of the trees formed a v shape with its branches and in the crook rested a heavy crossbow. A trap, obviously, but for what?

Dassan put a firm hand on Zevran's chest and backed him up against the tree. A smile curled his lips, "You're beautiful. But you know that."

"I do."

Zevran felt his stomach lurch when the hunter traced his fingers lightly down the three dark lines that rode his face. This used to be easier. Seduction was one of his favorite techniques, but something was wrong. There was fear backing it, taking away his control, making him slave instead of master. He looked deeply into Dassan's blue eyes. They were wide, dilated and held lust for dominance. Zevran leaned forward to kiss the hunter, trying to gain some ground, but was pushed back firmly against the tree. "Shhh," Dassan whispered, "has it been so long, brother?"

He nodded. Keep him distracted. At least he was away from Alyssa. At least here the Dalish elf could do her no harm. Why did that matter so much?

Dassan crushed Zevran's lips under his. He bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and a grunt from the assassin. "The Keeper left out a few things when he spoke to your shem leader."

"Lethal information I hope?" Zevran grinned. Perfect.

"Unfortunately, no," Dassan sneered. "What he didn't mention was how the werewolves came to be." Zevran cocked his head to the side and waited. "Keeper Zathrian summoned a spirit of the forest to seek vengeance against a human tribe that killed children. The spirit murdered many of the tribe and turned the rest into the beasts your friends now seek. They have since regained their power of thought and are not so mindless."

Not a trap, just a lie. Morrigan, Sten and Alistair should have no problem cutting down the werewolves. At least it was good news. Zevran smiled, "I don't think it makes much difference, save to give her a crisis of conscience."

Dassan pressed against him once more, kissing down his neck, running his hands up his legs and under his leather skirt. There was no warmth about this elf. When he touched Zevran, it was as if he were examining him, like a bug with its wings about to be pulled off. There was emptiness in his eyes. During contracts, if intimacy could be leveraged, the assassin never aimed to make the victim feel like a victim. It was not his way. They came to his bed willingly or not at all.

Zevran had to force his body to react. He thought of an Antivan dancer he had the pleasure of knowing. They had spent a wild summer together, making love, drinking wine until she left for Orlais to be a courtesan. He held on to the memory of her long legs, unbound red hair and slender fingers. It served well in tricking the Dalish, stirring a soft chuckle deep in his chest.

"Have you guessed yet why we're here, brother?" the hunter asked.

"Not just for a tumble I take it?" Zevran's smirk vanished when he heard fighting and Alyssa's voice from just down the hill.

"You know how shemlen are," Dassan said, reaching up to the crossbow and slipping a bolt in the chamber. "They stick together. They kill elves." He guided Zevran's hands between his legs until the assassin was grasping the hunter's manhood. He moved his hips until Zevran took over the motion on his own. "She won't have the chance to help the wolves murder our people." He moaned low in his chest and adjusted the site on the crossbow.

While Dassan was lost to the assassin's ministrations, Zevran unsheathed one of his daggers. He waited.

The hunter thrust his hips rhythmically and took aim. "This will be the biggest prick that little girl will ever have."

Zevran plunged the dagger under the hunter's armor and deep into his gut, pulling upward. Dassan's hand spasmed firing the bolt, but sending it slightly off course. He hoped it was enough to miss the target. There was no time to hang around, not with a body to hide and blood to clean off his armor. He cut off the elf's braid and pinned it to the tree with a carving knife he grabbed off the body. Let them blame the werewolves for that. The moss underfoot once again silenced his steps as he dragged the dead elf through the undergrowth.

Morrigan looked about the clearing. A trap. She should have known from the magic laced about the fire and the tents. It was powerful magic indeed to trip her keen senses. It brought some comfort that Alyssa was also unaware of the danger, thought that would have been no condolence if they had perished.

"Of course there was a shadow monster," Alyssa grumbled, "I mean, why not, right? Trigger happy elves, darkspawn, giant killer trees, werewolves and now a shadow monster. What more could a girl ask for?"

Alistair said, "A score card?" He shouldered his shield and straightened his hair. He was always fussing with his hair, that dim witted twit.

"Sure, why the hell not," she dusted off her robes. "Everyone still in one piece?"

"That creature preyed on travelers who camped here," Morrigan said. She frowned and looked about the clearing. "I do not sense anything else. No more should fall victim." She shuddered. They could not be rid of this forest soon enough. If the Wardens didn't need extra troops, the witch would have advised leaving at once. It felt like there were eyes everywhere and it wasn't the first time she felt they were being followed.

"There is a lockbox here," Sten said as he sheathed his sword.

"Crack it open, we might as well—" Alyssa made a wet, choking sound as crossbow bolt lodged itself in her chest and protruded out the back. Sten vanished into the trees to find the one who fired it. Alistair stood in front of Alyssa, his shield raised in defense against any that might follow. She clutched the bolt with both hands, blood start to seep through her robes.

"Warden, listen to me very carefully," Morrigan spoke clearly and as calmly as she could, fighting the tremor in her voice. "Nod or shake your head. Did it hit your heart?"

Alyssa shook her head. Dark red blood was oozing from the wound with a warm sticky smell.

"An artery?"

She shook her head. Her face was starting to turn blue and a raspy hollow sound came from her chest as she tried to breathe.

"Your lung?"

She nodded.

Morrigan turned her head and swore. "Can you heal the tissue around it?"

She nodded again.

"Do that. Alistair, when Alyssa heals herself, pull out the bolt."

"Are you insane?" Alistair yelped. "She'll suffocate."

"Shut up, you stupid fool! Do you want to her to live or not?"

His brow started to sweat. There was no follow up fire since the first, so Alistair slowly lowered his shield.

Morrigan swallowed hard. "Nod when you have healed as much as you can. Alistair will pull out the arrow and I will cast another spell to stem the bleeding." Wynne should have been here. Morrigan knew precious little of healing, but if Alyssa would just face reality and learn some aggressive spells she wouldn't have ended up like this.

Seconds stretched into minutes as a dim green light surrounded Alyssa's torso easing into her flesh. Morrigan pulled a small blade from her belt and carefully cut off the metal tip. It was slow going but when it finally fell to the ground she charged a healing spell. "Now, Alistair!"

Alistair pulled. Spit foam and blood exploded out of Alyssa's mouth and down her front. Morrigan sent a surge of healing energy into the mage to halt the flow of blood long enough for Alyssa's body to regenerate the pieced lung. The Warden fell to her knees clutching her chest and trying to breathe while Alistair and Morrigan were hovered over her. After a few moments, Alyssa was able to breathe more freely.

Morrigan shouted at her, "This would not have happened if you would have just accepted my offer!"

"No," Alyssa's voice was raw and rasping. "I can't do that."

"What you cannot do is die before your quest even begins," she glared at the Warden. "I've never heard of any mage who refused to learn even the most basic attack spells. You wreath yourself in flames when angered, so I know you are capable of force."

"My mother taught me to heal, not harm."

"Your mother is dead because of it."

A tense silence filled the clearing. Alistair looked from one woman to the other, but said nothing. At least the idiot knew when to stay out of things. "Wardens fight the darkspawn," Morrigan said. "They do not ask them nicely to please stop blighting the lands. What are you going to do when you face the archdemon? Run away and hope for the best?"

Alyssa couldn't look up at her. She pulled her knees as close to her chest as she could without wincing and kept her eyes focused on the ground.

"I know you did not choose this life," Morrigan's voice was gentler this time. "Often we do not get a choice. That does not mean one should be foolish. You have weapons at your fingertips, use them."

Alistair stepped forward. Morrigan wondered how much of his foot he would be able to stick in his mouth. "Alyssa," he said, kneeling in front of her, "you know Morrigan and I agree on nothing, but…she has a point." The witch blinked several times in surprise. Alyssa raised her face to him. "Yes, I know," he smiled, "I thought I was dreaming too. She's right though. Just look at how many times you've been vulnerable. The tower, the camp and now."

Sten arrived back at the clearing, interrupting the moment. "There was no marksman. Only this pinned to a tree." He held up a long black braid.

She looked up at the hair hanging from the Qunari's hand and shook her head. "Son of a bitch…"

When the team returned to the Dalish camp, Zevran could tell that Alyssa's temper was worn out. She was pale and covered in blood all down her left side. He cursed under his breath when he saw the hole in her robes.

The exhaustion and irritation were clear in her voice, "Your keeper is dead, the werewolves are gone, and your people are saved. I want my damn troops now." The new Keeper, Lanaya, stared at her open mouthed. Alyssa narrowed her eyes, "It's been a very long day. Do I get my troops or not?"

"Keeper!" Three of the hunters came running towards Keeper Lanaya with a broken bow in his hands. "Something happened to Dassan. He's been missing for hours."

"Warden, have you seen Dassan in the forest?" the Keeper asked, "He is a little taller than you are with a long dark braid."

"I didn't see any Dalish, but there were plenty of werewolves that attacked us." She held up the braid.

One of the hunters stepped forward to claim the braid. "Was there no way to save him?"

"No."

Zevran appeared by her side. "Warden, we must move on to Denerim as quickly as possible. I am worried that your injuries will need more attention than any here can give." A flimsy excuse, but he wanted to get as far away from the Dalish as possible.

Keeper Lanaya said, "We will mourn those we have lost today, but you will have your troops, Warden. The Dalish will march to war."

"Thank you, Keeper," Alyssa nodded.

When the team arrived back to their camp site on the edge of the forest Alistair was the first to speak, "I say we pack our gear and put as much distance between us and this place as possible."

"No," Wynne said, "Alyssa needs to rest. She's lost too much blood from the attack. Pushing through to fight werewolves, what were you thinking?"

He sighed, "I begged her to go back, but she refused to leave. What was I supposed to do? Knock her out and drag her to camp?"

Alyssa ignored them both and slunk off to her tent with her staff dragging in the dirt. Zevran was worried. Dark circles rimmed the Warden's eyes and she moved weakly from the blood loss. He should been quicker. He should have—

"Ouch!" He felt a sharp pain in his ankle and looked down to see Ashfur wiggling his butt in the air. "Did you just nip me?"

"Arf!"

"Why did you nip me? Is it time for your dinner, because now I'm less inclined to feed you, little brute."

Ashfur whined, but didn't leave. He turned his head toward Alyssa's tent and then back to Zevran, "Arf!"

"She wants to see me?"

Ashfur nodded.

He narrowed his eyes at the dog. "You really are too smart for your own good, do you know that?"

The happy pant that followed confirmed it until a butterfly floated past the Mabari's field of vision. Ashfur chased after it.

Zevran softly called to Alyssa before entering her tent. When he pulled back the flap, he saw the mage lying on her uninjured side wincing. Her breath came in shallow gasps and from the way she kept squirming around, it was clear she couldn't get comfortable. "Shall I call for Wynne?"

"You do and I'll set your ass on fire," she struggled to sit up. "I'm tired of being fussed over. I just want… Maker this hurts…"

He didn't wait for her to finish. Lifting her upper body as gently as he could, he slipped in behind her using the pillows and a knapsack to prop up his back. She tried to sit up, "No! Not my back!" The severity of the wound prevented her from pushing away.

"Alyssa, stop, I'm not trying to hurt you." Zevran cradled her gently. "Don't worry, cara. Does your wound hurt so much? I can shift about if that will help, but trust me just this once, please." He ran his fingers through her hair until she calmed enough to stop thrashing about.

"Just promise you won't touch my back," she pleaded, shaking in his arms. There were tears at the corners of her eyes.

"I swear." Even after he promised, she still didn't rest her full weight on him until a few minutes passed. "Cara?"

"Mm hmm?"

"If you have the power to dull pain, why do you not do this for yourself?" He massaged her temples with his delicate fingers, feeling her sink into him.

"The pain is distracting," the tension was finally easing out of her voice. "I have trouble numbing when I'm in this much pain."

He said, "Well then, it is a good thing you sent Ashfur to 'fetch' me." He curled and an uncurled his short nails against the skin of her neck with a feather light touch, smiling as she shivered.

She murmured, "I didn't send…oh, Zev, that feels amazing."

The dog was a genius. He was already making a list in his head of all the different treats he was going to buy for Ashfur when they reached Denerim. "Would you like to change in to something more…uniform in color?"

She said wryly, "What? You don't think blood spatter sets off my eyes?"

"When I have such a gift at my fingertips the urge to unwrap it is overwhelming." He brushed his cheek against the top of her head and chuckled softly. "You should see me at Saturnalia. I'm fit to be 'tied'." Nuzzling her hair, he breathed her in deeply. The scent of her, honeysuckle and pinesap, stirred his desire. He enjoyed letting the heat play up and down his body, feeling it fill his chest.

"Oh! I have something for you," she needed Zevran's help to sit up so she could rummage through her pockets. When she found what she was looking for, Alyssa reclined against him, handing back a pair of dark green leather gloves.

"Gloves? You're giving me gloves? What for?"

"Take a closer look," she smiled. "And don't stop doing that thing with your fingers. Warden's orders or some bullshit like that."

He smirked. The gloves were marvelous craftsmanship. Just passing his thumb over the leather told him of the superior quality and examining the fine tailoring of the embroidery affirmed their exquisite nature. Something was familiar about them. A memory clicked in his mind, "Maker's breath! These are like my mother's!"

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"The leather was less thick and it had more embroidery, but these are very close." He slipped them on, "And quite handsome." They were made in such a way as to leave the fingers bare. Good for archers, excellent for pickpockets.

Alyssa was starting to doze off, but she was still grinning, "You're welcome."

"Do I seem surprised?" He murmured, "Perhaps I am." Zevran ran his nails through her hair and against her scalp to send tingling sensations through her body. From the way she shivered, he knew he was doing it right. "Still, I appreciate the fact that you even thought of me. No one has simply…given me a gift before." He looked down at her. With her eyes still closed she couldn't see the tenderness in his face. A weight in his chest had lifted. He had felt it for so long that he had forgotten how heavy it made him. Now there was a lovely enchantress lying in his arms, his hands tangled in her hair and whatever spell she was weaving he hoped it would never break.

"More to the left…oh sweet Andraste, bride of the Maker."

He rubbed the space behind her ears, watching her arch her back and listening to her contented sighs. The Crow training screamed in the back of his mind. 'Slit her throat from ear to ear. Quickly, while she's distracted. One slice and you can go home.' To what? An empty room, a gilded cage, and cruel master. Yes very appealing, he'd get right on that.

It wasn't the only fear that tried to fight through. He was a whore, if not in a brothel then certainly for the Crows. How many had he bedded at this point? Was he even still in the double digits? She had never asked about that, but what if the subject came up? He had no idea if he would lie or tell the truth. If he did tell the truth she might turn him away. His face fell and he was finding it difficult to swallow without feeling a dull ache in his throat.

"Stop blaming yourself."

"Sorry?" His unpleasant thoughts were interrupted, for now.

Alyssa shifted her body slowly, without wincing once. The massage seemed to have done its job and given her enough pleasure to override the pain. "You were right about my need to learn to fight," she looked up at him. "Morrigan was able to help me, but only just. She said she would teach me."

He sighed with relief, "Good. I don't understand why you waited so long."

Alyssa lowered her eyes. "Fear. I was afraid I'd lose control. Hurt someone. Hurt myself."

"If you cannot rise to be a Warden, many will be hurt, including you."

"I know," she said. "If you hadn't interrupted that Dalish archer, the bolt would have ripped right through my heart. It would have collapsed before my body healed it."

The assassin looked away. "I don't know what you mean. You said stay at the camp so I did."

"That's twice you've saved my life," she smirked. "People are going to start gossiping you know."

"Are you still talking?" He slid his hands past her shoulders and squeezed her biceps forcing a loud moan from her. "You should be losing yourself to the master massage techniques I'm applying."

"So where did you learn to do thi— Oh baby that's so…mmmm…," she melted into him, pain and tension vanishing completely.

In the hour that followed, he massaged her shoulders, arms, head, and neck until she dozed off, completely limp in his embrace. He decided to let future Zevran worry about the Crows and all the complications they brought. Planning, after all, wasn't his strong point.