Disclaimer: Bioware owns all, I earn nothing.

WARNING: This story has TWO MEN FALLING IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER AND EXPRESSING SEMI-HEALTHY DESIRE FOR EACH OTHER'S BODIES. If you don't like homoerotic romance PLEASE BACK OFF! If that kind of thing makes you go start praying at the porcelain gods in a hurry, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Please exit quietly using the "Back" button, thank you. Please note that if you decide to continue, we do not supply brain bleach, so bring your bleach brand of choice before your eyes start drifting further. Thank you for your cooperation, and have a nice day.

...no, no, you may not lay your head in Wynne's bosom, magical though it is...

In the previous chapter, our little band of heroes, led by an over-enthusiastic Warden, had reached Flemeth's hut deep in the Koncari Wilds, and are prepared to take a valuable treasure from her. But as every genre-savvy person would know, there is no such thing as free gifts…


Of Whoresons and Nobles

Chapter 11


"Warden?"

"Yes?"

"Remember when you said that nothing could possibly go wrong?"

"Yes!"

"I'm just going to say one thing…you are an IDIOT!"

Fire rained down, and Zevran jumped back, just barely avoiding the scorching blast. He could feel the heat sting his skin and he smelt his hair sizzling. Oh, wonderful, I just hope I don't end up bald after this is over.

Swearing, the Warden dodged a swiping claw and slashed at the offending foreleg. Sparks flew as the blade scraped over impervious scales. "I didn't think she was going to turn into a bloody High Dragon!"

"Then you better start thinking next time!" Zevran shouted back, attempting to sneak around the dragon, but a flap of massive wings sent him flying back.

"Less talking, more fighting!" Leliana shouted from behind them. A flaming arrow flew and managed to lodge itself between scales. The dragon—Flemeth—shrieked and opened its mouth wide, ready to spit out another blast of flame.

Anlan, barking badly, nimbly weaved between the dragon's flailing claws and bit at the vulnerable underbelly. The distraction made the dragon flinch, and the fireblast went wide, burning over a shallow part of the swamp's river and leaving behind an area of cracked mud and hissing steam.

With a roar, the dragon viciously swiped at the mabari. The blow connected, sending the hound flying through the air to crash with a loud thud at a wall of the hut. Anlan yelped, and collapsed on the ground, unmoving.

"Anlan!" the Warden called, snarling as he repelled another swiping claw.

The dog whined, and struggled to its feet, only to flop back on the ground again, alternating between yelps and whines.

This is no good. Zevran glanced at the plainly injured dog, then at the Warden, thrusting and slashing and just barely doing any damage. Leliana's arrows bounced uselessly off the scales, except for the occasional hit at the soft flesh between scales. Zevran was panting hard, having spent more time avoiding being hit (and with his too-light armor, getting seriously injured or outright killed) than attacking the dragon. Leliana's face was as tight as her bowstring, and the Warden…Zevran couldn't be sure, but he seemed to be favoring one leg over the other, and the face was pale beneath the helmet.

Any longer and we'd all tired out, and then we'll end up in the belly of the beast.

"Zevran!" The Warden yelled, just as the dragon's head lunged at him. He swung his sword, slicing the creature across the face, and it flinched back, shrieking. "Zevran! Take Leliana and get help!"

"What?" Leliana yelped. "Warden! We can't leav—"

"I'll be alright, Leliana! Go get help! Go!"

"You're insane!" Zevran shouted, just as the dragon let out an ear-blasting roar. "You won't make it!"

"Then make sure that both of you do!" The Warden glared at Zevran. "Get out! NOW!"

"War—"A flailing tail lashed out at Zevran, and he cut his words off. The elf ducked, letting it sail over his head, noted the spikes running up the creature's spine—well. Well.

He stared at the rough, scaly hide, at the protruding spikes…

A plan sprang to life in his head. It wasn't much of a plan, really, and insanely suicidal to boot.

But since he was looking for death anyway…

The dragon slashed at the Warden, throwing the human back. The Warden fell back, stumbled; his feet braced apart to halt the momentum—and he cried out as his left leg gave, ending with him half-kneeling on the ground.

That's it. "Leliana!" Zevran shouted, sheathing his sword and dagger. "Suppressing fire, now!"

"What the—Zevran!"

He ignored her shout, simply fixed his sight on his goal—and ran straight at the dragon.

"Zevran!" The shout was male, rough with exhaustion and fierce with anger and pain. He ignored that too, only kept his eyes on the dragon—on the spikes lining its back.

The dragon saw him running around it, and with a roar twisted—and shrieked as an arrow lodged in its neck.

"Over here, you fiend!" Leliana drew back her bowstring again, and fired another arrow. "Look over here, damn you!" Another volley of arrows rained at the dragon's head.

With a roar, the dragon turned, its attention focused on Leliana now.

Thank you, Leliana! Zevran watched the sweeping tail, and waited—now!

He sprinted, his legs pumping him across the muddy ground as fast as they can, and just as the tail swung around, they coiled, and sprang—

And he was on the tail, his hands scrabbling for purchase, catching on the rough scales. He grabbed, clutched, and for a moment simply hung on as the tail swinged again.

"Got you!" he hissed, already reaching for one of the spikes.

They were a bit too big for his hand, but the surface of those spikes were rough, pitted—his leather gloves gripped them well enough. As quick as he could, he pulled himself up the tail, past the haunches, and over its back.

Leliana was running circles around the dragon, shooting arrows when she could. The massive creature's bulk was a hindrance to itself—hissing and spitting, it couldn't catch up with the nimble-footed bard as she practically danced around the dragon, and Zevran easily scaled up over the dragon's spine; he resolved to buy Leliana a pair of nice shoes for distracting the dragon so well.

Briefly, he glanced at the Warden. The human had stared, wide-eyed and mouth open, when he first started climbing up the dragon—now he was struggling to his feet, a bottle of magical health poultice already in hand, no doubt taking the opportunity to temporarily heal whatever damage had been done to his leg.

Satisfied that the Warden was safe—for now—Zevran grimly resumed his task.

The dragon suddenly reared back—and one of his hands slipped. Flailing, his fingers closed over one of the arrows in the dragon's neck, pulled—

Damn!

With a shriek of pain, the dragon just realized the elf's presence, and roaring wildly it bucked and twisted, attempting to throw him off. Gripping onto the spikes as hard as he could, he held on as the dragon flailed about.

Suddenly there was a burning, lancing pain in his leg—he screamed as a claw dug into his calf and sliced down, opening a long, deep gash in the muscle. The pain was a crippling thing, and his grip weakened—

Then the dragon howled as a greatsword thrust deep into its side, lancing through the scales. Face grim, the Warden leaned against the sword, driving it deep, and then pulled back and away just before a foreleg swiped at him.

"Hurry, Zevran!" the human shouted, already running around, avoiding the dragon's claws and teeth.

The Warden's words were a boost to Zevran's strength—relieved that the Warden was all right, he tried his best to ignore the pain as he pulled himself up the dragon's neck.

Almost, a little more—there!

His hands closed over one of the dragon's 'horns', clutched tightly—with a grunt, he pulled himself up atop the dragon's head. The wildly thrashing dragon nearly unseat him—hissing from the pain in his calf, he hooked his feet behind the spurs just behind the dragon's cheek, and his knees gripped the sides of the narrow skull just as he drew out his sword.

Well, here goes nothing.

Reversing his grip, point facing down, he raised his sword high above his head—and plunged it down into a fierce gold eye.

With a sickening pop the eye burst, and blood and fluid sprayed out and over his arm, hot enough to sting where it managed to get beneath the leather and splash on his skin, smelling like bile and sulphur and rust. He heard the tip scrape over the bone at the back of the socket.

The dragon howled, and reared back, tossing its head wildly. He remained seated, his hooked legs keeping him secure.

He was laughing, whooping as the dragon bucked beneath him, his blood singing with the wild excitement of the fight.

"Let's see who wins in this!" he shouted, raising his sword and stabbing down again.

Once more there was the screech of bone against metal. Undeterred, his head dizzy with bloodlust, he kept stabbing, again and again and again and again—

Finally, he heard a crack, and the sword wedged oh-so-slightly into the bone.

His face ached from the wide grin stretched across it. With a yell of triumph, he raised his sword and stabbed down for the final time.

The blade pierced through the weakened bone, shattering it, and plunged into the soft insides of the creature's brain. He leaned against the sword, wrenching it side to side, widening the crack in the bone. Then he braced his weight on the hilt, and he leaned on it, driving the sword deeper.

The dragon's screeching was deafening—the sounds were like dull rods driving into his ears. He didn't care, couldn't care, his mind and body focused on driving that sword deeper deeper deeper—

The dragon reared back, letting out a howl that died off into a weak croak. A shudder went through the monster's body, and then its forelegs collapsed, and the dragon tilted, falling over.

The sword was wedged deep into the skull—ignoring it, he unhooked his legs, waited, waited, and just before the skull crashed onto the ground he leapt away, avoiding getting his legs from being crushed by the weight.

He hit the ground shoulder-first, on his side—without thinking he tucked his body, and with a smooth rolling motion his body tumbled across the ground with the momentum, until he finally ended up on sprawled on his back, panting, covered in blood and Maker-knows-what and the dragon's death cry still ringing in his ears.

Zevran…Zevran!

The voices sounded far away. He opened his eyes (had he closed them? He couldn't remember) and saw the Warden and Leliana peering down at him.

"Zevran, oh thank the Maker!"Leliana pulled him up and into a tight, almost crushing hug around his neck and shoulders—mostly around the neck, unfortunately, and he gagged as her arms tightened. "Maker's breath you crazy, brave man, you were wonderful!"

"Yes, yes, thank you Leliana butcanyouletgoyouarechokingme!"

"Oh! Sorry." The hug eased, and he sucked in a grateful breath. She leaned back, but still clutched him by the shoulders, her eyes teary and her smile brilliant. "You were a-maze-ing!" she gushed—and to his pleasant surprise, she cupped his face in her hands and rained kisses all over it, blood and all. "You are a hero! To see you climb on the dragon—Flemeth—like that, I thought you'd die any moment!"

"He could have died."

The Warden's voice was cold, practically radiating frost. Zevran looked up and grinned back at the icy glare directed his way. "What, no thanks? No 'congratulations'?"

"I'll save them for later. After I cut your ears off. If Wynne doesn't cut them first—Andraste's flame look at that leg!"

"Mm?" He glanced down, at the red coating his injured calf. Blood was gathering in a little pool underneath it now—oddly, it didn't hurt now, even though it had been burning while he was on the dragon. Must had been the battle rush numbing it. "Oh, that. I don't think all of that blood is mine."

"Maybe not all, but most of it."

Leliana glanced down, followed Zevran's gaze—seeing the wound, she gasped, her face aghast. "Oh, Maker, that's too much blood. We have to get that healed, quickly!"

"I'll help him back to camp," the Warden muttered, and before Zevran could protest an arm was sliding under his armpits, while one of his arms was pulled to drape over a set of broad shoulders. "Leliana, go help Anlan. I don't think he's bleeding much but he'll be terribly bruised after that landing. Give him some mabari crunches, get his strength back up."

"All right Warden," Leliana said, getting to her feet and going over to the still-panting dog.

"Can you stand?" the Warden asked Zevran, easily—ridiculously-so—getting to his feet even with Zevran leaning on him.

"I…think so." Gingerly, Zevran tested his legs—they were wobbly, and the world seemed to be tilting (and going grey…but there wasn't anything grey in the Koncari Wilds…right?), but he could stand with minimal support from the Warden. "Wait, the grimoire—"

"Will still be here, since Flemeth is dead—I think—and will still be here while we get you patched up at camp," the Warden said, more than a little exasperated.

"Oh, all right then." Odd how the ground seemed really soft, almost rolling. And his belly was doing acrobatic leaps while his heart was bouncing around like a maggot trapped in a jar. And he was quite sure that the trees were grey now, and so is the sky—wait, that can't be right…

"Zevran? Zev? Damn you, elf, look at me."

"Hmm?" He turned his head—it felt like it was made of lead—and looked at the Warden. "Hmm…what?"

He saw the Warden's eyes widen—although they seemed to be growing fuzzy. "Oh, blood and damnation, you're as white as a sheet!"

"…There are white sheets?" he exclaimed. The Warden's head and the sky blended, swirled into a dizzying whirl of color. "Didn't know that. They were always rather yellow, when I was in Antiva." Little black spots swam in his vision, blotting out the world and growing fatter and fatter with each jumping leap of his heartbeat, even as the throbbing in his leg grew hotter and hotter. "And full of lice—itching, biting fiends. But then I'm not in Antiva, am I?"

"Zevran? Oh, bollocks, don't faint on me—Zevran!"

The spots swarmed over him, like a cloud of hungry locusts, and then all he saw was blessed darkness.

~to be continued~


Author's note: Uh, yes, another early post. And another cliffhanger…please don't eat me D;

Aw, no one got the reference…

FYI, it was for Mass Effect, Bioware's space-opera/cosmic-horror story (featuring MECHA CHTULU!), when the Warden mentioned that his old self 'wasn't exactly a paragon of kindness and virtue', and 'had a very…renegadesort of attitude, in every sense of the word'. 'Paragon' and 'Renegade' here are, well, the karma/reputation meters in aforementioned game, with 'Paragon' being the nice goody-two-shoes, and the 'Renegade' being..err, just the opposite of that...

If you haven't played that game, I suggest you try it, if you're into third-person-shooters. Fun 3rdPS-RPG, with all the witty dialogue, lots and lots of codices and smexy romance as per Bioware standards; we can also hear some several familiar voices from Dragon Age: Origins in Mass Effect 2.

Although I had to admit, it was rather obscure reference here (wince)…oh well, no cookies, but here's some chocolate fudge sundae with lots of whipped cream and sprinkles for all of you lovely readers (grins).

Thanks for all the reviews and comments, they make me very happy!

Please leave a few words about this chapter, if you have any, and sorry for another cliffie, but Zevran stole half my notes when I wasn't looking, sexy little pointy-eared McNinja assassin…

Until next chapter, cheers!