prompt:f!Sonara/zevran, non-con,
mage makes that deal with Connor's desire demon to force Zevran to fall in love with her. Anon would like this to be as fucked up as possible- Surana is just using Zevran for the sex and humiliation/power factor and manipulates him shamelessly with "you'd let me beat you up/pimp you out/fuck you even though you're injured and don't feel like it if you loved me :(" type bs.
He was waiting for her when she came into her tent, after yet another long discussion with the swamp witch. Laying upon carefully arranged blankets, undressed and lounging without shame, Zevran flashed a grin as Sonara closed the tent flap behind her.
"You have finished talking with Morrigan? I would be jealous if the idea of two gorgeous magi practicing their arts in seclusion was not quite so distracting." His brows rose and fell briefly, his grin growing wider as his accented words fell from his lips.
"Not now Zevran, I am wearied." Sonara's mouth was tight, granting the elf only the most cursory of glances.
Mischief quickly replaced the brief look of disappointment, and Zevran sat up, draping his arms over his knees. Golden skin and black tattoos covered a body sleek and honed, and his hazel eyes were full of adoration.
"Come, my dear. I waited up for you..." He extended a hand to her, and she gave a huff of exasperation.
"I said no. Unless you want to spend the tent in your own tent, I suggest you shut up and settle down." With a single searing glare, she stripped her clothes off, and extinguished the lanterns' light. She lay down, curled away from the elf even as he draped a protective arm around her. He propped himself up on an elbow, softly stroking her hair he watched her face. His eyes could pick out her features even in the darkness, every detail held precious in his memory. When she batted his arm away, he withdrew, but continued to watch his mage fall into the fade's embrace.
She was strong, and valiant in her efforts to halt the blight consuming the land. It was no wonder she was often tired, and could be short with him. He accepted it as part of her nature, part of the toll duty demanded of her. Though he would rather that she did not berate his every misstep, that fact that she only did this to him showed the strength of their relationship. She did not trust any other to stick with her through vicious comments and cutting remarks, she must know then that he would forgive her every trespass.
He would face down an ogre single handed, for her sake, his dear grey warden. She captivated him, like no other. He had confessed his heart, surprising himself in his fevour, but rejoiced when she appeared delighted with his stumbling admissions of love. Something about the mage made him feel like never before, all his fears and reservations concerning intimacy washed away by his unwavering devotion to Sonara. She was beautiful, a slight frame housing a spirit unmatched, dark hair hanging in a single braid down her back, chestnut in some light, ebony in others, but it was more than mere appreciation of her form. He knew, without doubt, that he loved her, needed her, would do anything for her. He was hers.
-
Morning light filtered through canvas, rousing her from sleep. Zevran was laying facing her, one hand under his head, the other resting against her side.
It had been almost tactical, to have the desire demon weave its spell over the elf's mind, in exchange for its life. He was an assassin, and she thought she would feel better knowing that he was bound to her, lest he take it into his head to complete the assassination attempt. He had, after all, tried to kill her then swear himself to her service. She was not so stupid to believe the oath, and so felt no guilt that she had allowed such demonic powers to be used on him.
She had been impressed at the strength of the magics the demon applied, Zevran almost instantly falling at her feet and declaring his heart was hers. Any true feelings he might have had for her were magnified, intensified to a near fanatical devotion. After years spent in the tower, feeling oppressed and less than human, it was gratifying to have someone bend so easily to her will. There was a thrill is seeing how far she could push the elf, and she had not yet found him raise issue with anything she did. She had been cruel, she knew, but convinced herself it was in her best interest to see how strong his loyalty was. To find the breaking point.
She denied him sex, when it was clear he hungered for her, bringing him to the point where he would beg to be able to touch her. She pointed out his errors in battle, blaming him for any injury bestowed upon her companions while he danced in and out of the shadows. She'd spent nights at the pearl, simply saying that she expected Zevran to understand that she had needs, needs his slim elven member could not fulfill, and if he loved her he would not begrudge her pleasure. She even took his gloves from him, the Dalish ones she'd given him which had made his voice falter with emotion, instead giving him a pair of enchanted ones, proclaiming them better. These things, these tests, he took with an unnerving grace and determination, his crow training seeming to steady him through even the most brutal of emotional assaults.
The earring though, had almost broken him, when she handed it over as payment for some rooms at an inn. The value of the earring could have bought all available rooms for half a month, but she refuses the inn-keepers offer of paying her back at least some of the excess. She had made sure Zevran witnessed the trade, waiting for him to protest, to intervene at the callous exchange of his precious token. He had said nothing, but quietly questioned her when they had retired to their room for the night. She had explained that he had said her could do whatever she liked with the earring, and that she did not think he would mind. Anger, perhaps even hate, that risen in his cheeks, and he had opened his mouth as if to say something scathing... then he had smiled, and nodded to her. He needed no reminder of his past, he had said, closing his hands over hers, not when she was his future.
Having a willing servant, especially an attractive and skilled one, amused Sonara. Such power was a heady addition, and the mage could finally understand the appeal in commanding vast armies, or standing vigilant over a tower full of magi. She doubted Alistair would have survived as a templar, the man had no stomach for such domination. *She* however, was rapidly discovering that the sway she held over the elf was intoxicating, and she sought new ways to prove her power over Zevran.
Zevran stirred and smiling weakly as he shrugged the sleep from him. Shuffling over the sleeping roll, he gathered Sonara into his arms and nuzzled against her neck, breathing deep the scent of her.
Sonara wriggled from his embrace, pulling a soft whine from the assassin, and sat, untwisting the cord of leather holding her braid and tidying her hair. She gave him a smile, and stroked the side of his face as he sleepily propped himself up on his arms, watching her run fingers through her dark hair.
"You are too enticingly lovely in the mornings, my dear... Will you not permit me to assist you in tending your locks?" He made to get up, but Sonara shook her head. She giggled darkly.
"Your skills with locks leave much to be desired... but perhaps you can tend to me another way..." She parted her legs, and leaned backwards, her hair falling in unbound waves down her back as she beckoned Zevran forwards. Eyes gleaming, and a grin that threatened to spilt his face, he crawled forwards. His breath against the inside of her thigh was delicious, and she writhed in anticipation as he kissed the soft skin of her navel.
A deft finger brushed up and down her sex, gentle, tantalizing. Impatient, she gasped him by his ear, and pulled his mouth to meet the moisture form there. He gave a short muffled cry, but complied, using his tongue to lick at the folds, his fingers rolling the nub above carefully, sparking sensation like electricity through her body. She arched as he delved deeper, tasting her ecstasy and trying not to mind that he grip she had on his ear was really quite painful. It was worth it, to feel her surge before him, crying his name in breathy gasps.
Climax rocked her backwards, and she saw Zevran rise up, his own erection pulsing with anticipation. Hiding a smirk, she pushed him aside. "No... we really shouldn't. I need to get the others ready for traveling to Haven."
Zevran tried again, hands upon his legs, his mouth gapping slightly as he fought to control his lust. She fixed him with a steely glare.
"No. I have a long day ahead, and I do not have time to cater to you."
Dejected, but putting a brave face on, Zevran started to dress. Sonara took longer than necessary to finish her hair, knowing that Zevran was politely wait for her to vacate the tent before he could bring himself to release. It amused her to see the elf wincing as he pulled tight leather over his hips, feeling the confining garment strain against his crotch. When Sonara finally left the tent, Zevran guiltily stroked himself to completion, feeling cheated that his seed spilt over his hand, rather than deep inside his lover.
-
Sonara had organized the camp, and Leliana was scurrying about, packing her things as Zevran sauntered over. He gave Leliana a sharp stare then turned to Sonara.
"You are taking Leliana? I am not going with you?"
"No Zevran. You will stay here. I will return once we have located the ashes."
"Dear heart, you know that I do not like to be parted from you. It... it hurts when I am not by your side. Please, leave the bard here and take myself."
Sonara tutted loudly, and crossed her arms over her mage's robes. "Leliana is something of an expert on Andraste, she will be more useful. The matter is not open for discussion. You can make yourself useful seeing if Morrigan has finished brewing the lyrium if you like. I plan to head off as soon as possible."
Zevran gave his most charming grin, "Will you not at least come back to the tent so that I can bid you a safe journey properly...?" He licked his lips and leaned in to place a kiss, but Sonara took a step backwards, angrily waving him away. "Cut that out, for goodness sake. I am busy, and if you will not help, you should get out of my way."
"I am sorry..." he started, but Sonara had already started to walk over to Morrigan.
She did not even look him in the eye as she set off, Alistair, Leliana and Sten following the mage to Haven.
-
They had been gone three days, when Morrigan remarked that Zevran was no better than the mabari for pining for their mistress. Wynne bitterly reprimanded the witch for such a comment, but the truth of the statement rang true.
By six days, Wynne was having to pester Zevran to eat, his appetite failing as he moped about camp. His nights were torn apart by thoughts and fears that Sonara would perish without him to safeguard her, that she would die angry at their last conversation. That he would never again see her soft smile, nor her mouth open in sweet exhalation as they made love.
By eight days, his eyes were dark and his steps clumsy through lack of sleep. Even Morrigan had ceased her belittling commentary, on seeing the assassin rendered so.
"You did not strike me as the love sick type, Zevran." Wynne's voice was gentle, as she offered him a cup of tea. He sat heavily, and sipped the brew without comment. "Try not to worry, I am sure she is fine, and you will be reunited before you know."
"You have decided to accept that she and I are romantically entangled then?" Zevran's voice seemed flat, but he gave a weak smile at Wynne.
Wynne laughed, stirring sugar into her cup. "I admit I had my doubts, but it is clear you care for her deeply. I do not think i have ever seen anyone quite so... smitten."
Zevran was about to launch into a poetic flurry of the depths of his feelings to the elderly mage, that this was no simple crush or infatuation, that his heart sung only for Sonara and that it was a love strong and true. That 'smitten' did not begin to describe his dedication to his grey warden, and that he would gladly lay down his own life for her, when he heard a familiar clinking in the distance. He was on his feet, racing the dog as they ran to Alistair's armor, knowing Sonara must be near.
The mage had no time to tell him to stop as he swept her into his arms, clutching her tight to him and whispering apologies into her ear. The mabari followed, gleefully barking and licking his mistress's hands. It was only when he found that Sonara was tense in his grasp that he took a step back to observe the returned companions.
Alistair's face was wane, and Sten looked... sad? No, not sadness, but grim. Sonara herself seemed tired, and her robes were charred at the hems. Leliana was nowhere to be seen.
Wynne and Morrigan had come up, Wynne bringing a bag of healing poultices and bandages. Wynne looked to the group, and frowned.
"Where is Leliana?"
Alistair made a small choking sound, as if trying to contain a sob, and Sten's face darkened, looking to Sonara. Sonara met Wynne's eyes and shook her head.
"Dead. Leliana is dead." her voice was unwavering as she delivered the news, her eyes cold. "I do not wish to talk about it." She started to stride towards the camp, Morrigan stepping aside to let her past. Wynne shot Alistair a questioning glance and his resolve broke.
"She killed her!" he said, disbelieve racking his voice. Sonara stopped and turned, glaring at the ex templar.
"What happened?" Zevran had never heard Wynne so demanding, but seeing Alistair, who had always been viciously loyal to the mage struggle to contain himself in her presence must have tipped her usually calm demeanor.
"Leliana attacked us, and we were forced to defend ourselves. She brought it upon herself." Sonara stared at Alistair while she spoke, her voice firm and commanding his silence.
"You desecrated the ashes, what else did you expect her to do!" he turned to Wynne, shaking his head sadly. "There was a cult, some dragon worshipping madmen. I though Sonara was just trying to avoid fighting them... but she... she poured dragon blood on the ashes, she ruined them! Leliana was beside herself, and she leapt forwards in grief and fury... and Sonara made her burst into flames... Maker... I can still hear her screaming..."
"It was not a good death." Sten said, his jaw tight as he watched Sonara face the consequences for her actions. The mage clenched her fists and stood, impassive as Alistair shuddered at the memory of how the bard died.
"How could you!" Wynne shrieked, and Zevran moved to place himself between the two magi as Wynne started forwards. "You have no right to do such a thing, you have destroyed one of the last treasures of this world! Not to mention killed one of your friends in cold blood!"
Wynne raised her hands, as if to cast magic, when Zevran flashed out a dagger, warning her against such action. Wynne saw the look in his eyes, and lowered her hands, mouth twisted in disgust.
"I will take my leave. I will not follow someone who can so callously discard that what gives men something to hope for."
Sonara's face remained stern, no sign of remorse as Wynne walked to her tent, emerging with a bag of her belongings and walking away. Stunned into silence, the rest of the group retreated to their tents, an air of dark foreboding hanging over them. Zevran followed Sonara.
He had liked Leliana, the bard had cheered him with songs from Antiva while they were on watch, and they had traded tips on poisons and pickpocketing. Still, he could only feel elation that she was gone, as this meant Sonara would allow him to accompany her more often, he being the only one able to spot a trapped flagstone, or force a locked door.
He was more distressed that Sonara had allowed Wynne to leave, without even trying to convince the elder mage to stay. Wynne had proven herself valuable in the most fearsome battles, her healing magics pulling him through on more than one occasion. She had looked after them too, prompting Alistair to eat more than just cheese, and putting aside her differences to help Morrigan with brewing the various potions the group required. Still, Sonara must have had good reason for her decision, and he would not doubt his grey warden.
He sat beside where Sonara had slumped down, rubbing his thumbs over her shoulders and neck.
"I am sure you did what had to be done, my love." he said softly, tipping his head to rest against her neck. "I am glad to see *you* safe and sound... I missed you."
Sonara said nothing, but turned, smiling. There was something out of place in that smile, it was too wide, too sudden.
"I missed you too Zevran, I could have done with your help in Haven. I found magics in that place, powerful magic, but have not been able to practice for fear Alistair might take it into his head that I am a malificar. Won't you help me practice?"
"Anything for you..." He was unsure, magic always making him nervous. Sonara's power had been growing, the little mage able to conjure great storms of fire and lightening, and the look in her eyes as she razed her enemies chilled him sometimes.
"Good..." she murmured, and slowly raised a dagger in her hand. Before Zevran could react and knock it out of her reach, she cut herself, blade into her palm. The stink of blood filled the tent, and Sonara looked at Zevran, her eyes narrowing as she concentrated. Zevran felt himself grow lightheaded, and pain flashed through his body, making him double over and cough bloody breaths onto the tent floor. When he looked up, he saw Sonara, the tiredness gone from her eyes, sitting straight and strong as she drew from him.
"Stop!" he gasped, as another wave of pain washed over him. Sonara was laughing, as he slowly felt the magic dissipate.
"That was... more powerful than I had hoped..."
Zevran pushed himself up on his arms and stared at Sonara, as she licked the wound on her hand.
"Blood magic... Sonara, that is blood magic." he whispered, feeling weak, drained and scared.
"It is. I discovered how to unlock the power, and can you not see how marvelous it is? You have always said you would do anything to keep me safe, and now I can use your own blood to heal myself. Is it not want you wanted?"
"Not like that... "
Sonara sniffed, and crossed her arms. " I thought you loved me Zevran. but it seems you have a limit to what you will do for me... You would rather I bled until dry when we fight the archdemon? If you loved me... this would not be a problem for you. Perhaps you should go..."
Zevran tensed, and grasped Sonara's arm, his eyes clouded with conflict.
"No... no, I understand. It is just... different." he offered a weak grin, "If I can survive getting caught in one of your ice blasts, I can learn to deal with this... Please Sonara, I do love you. Never doubt it."
"Then you will help me practice some more? And keep my little secret? I doubt very much that Alistair would understand. He would try to kill me Zev, you won't let that happen, will you?"
"Never." he breathed, and was granted a smile, soft and sweet as Sonara stroked against the dark lines of ink on his face.
"There is one other spell I wish to try..." she whispered.
Zevran straightened, and nodded. Sonara was pleased that the assassin put such trust in her, and the idea of the next magic she would cast sent pleasant shivers through her. She cut her hand again, and waved it in front of Zevran. He watched, then his eyes seemed to glaze.
Fire ran through his veins, and he felt his hand moving on its own accord. He felt the metal of the dagger hilt Sonara offered him in his palm, but could not will his fingers to release it. He could not even halt himself as he pressed the dagger into his forearm, not even flinching from the sting of the blade. He wanted to shout, to break the spell Sonara had inflicted upon him, but he found himself helpless. Blood welled from the cut, deep enough that his teeth gritted as the hold over his body was released. He clamped a hand over the cut, letting the dagger fall and looking at Sonara wide eyed, pleading for explanation.
"Do not look at me like that, you said you would allow me to work the magic..."
"You... you hurt me Sonara."
Sonara laughed, "That is the beauty of the spell, you hurt *yourself*. But you have been brave, and such bravery deserves reward..." She leant in for a kiss, Zevran almost pulling away as she pressed against his injured arm. He held it up, thinking that she must not have seen the extent of the damage, but she pushed past it, blood marring her robes as she pushed her tongue into his mouth.
"No... Sonara, no. My arm... let me at least bandage it..."
She paid him no heed, wrapping an arm round the back of his head to stop him pulling away, her breath low and lustfilled as she drew herself deep into the kiss, forcing his lips apart.
He could not fight her, not when every day she had been gone he had lay awake wishing for this. He managed to tie a piece of cloth over his arm, blood already staining through, the blankets marked with red, as Sonara devoured him hungrily. Elated by her success with blood magic, she wasted no time in pulled Zevran's trousers from him, leaving his shirt on. Straddling his hips, using his own blood to slick his erection, she plunged downwards, biting into the soft skin of his neck as she rocked upon him. He tried to coax her into slowing, attempted to stroke against her cheek, kiss her heaving breasts, but she was relentless, and soon they were thrusting together.
She blazed hot, and tight, her knees pressing into his sides as she pumped her body up and down, at a pace that left her gasping for air. He could feel the ripples of her inner flesh against him, pulsating as they closed over his member, silky against his entire penis. Bodies clashing in conjunction, she keened loudly, throwing her head back. The tang of blood in his nose, he could only shudder as she drove him to release, her soft insides massaging along his length, her eyes sparkling with the effects of the forbidden magic.
She slumped against him, murmuring contentedly. As the haze of passion lifted, much as he was loath to break this blissful scene, he was aware that his arm needed tending to.
He found himself feeling strange as he got up. He recalled how it felt when she had used the blood magic to control him like a puppet, and a sudden fear struck him as he realized that the sensation had not entirely dissipated.
"Sonara, my love. I feel strange... I fear that your magic might still be upon me, could you dispel it... I do not like the thought that I am still under its effect."
She frowned, and shook her head, "The magic I cast is finished, stop being so paranoid."
Zevran's brows tightened on his forehead, and he tipped his head from side to side, trying to pinpoint the strange sensation within him. When he looked at Sonara, her hair hanging in messy strands, he felt the pull of something on his memories. "No... I am sure... there is something not right..."
The mage closed her eyes, drawing a blanket around herself. "Who is the mage here, you or I? I am telling you not to worry. Now, so have Wynne see to that arm before you bleed to death."
"Wynne is gone..." he said softly, but Sonara gave no indication that she had even heard.
-
Morrigan watched Zevran walk over, his arm held close to his chest.
"Morrigan, I find myself in need of your assistance. Could you perhaps take a look at my arm?"
"What happened? That is a deep cut." Her voice was quiet, as if she was scared someone might hear her showing concern for another. She threw the blood soaked cloth Zevran had used to stem the flow of blood directly into her fire, gesturing Zevran should sit before he collapse.
"I managed to catch myself on a dagger..." he said quietly. Morrigan gave him a look that told him she did not believe, but he did not allow that to concern him. She placed some herbs on the gash, and wrapped a fresh, clean bandage round his arm.
"There. Do you have any other clumsy wound you'd like me to tend, or can I get back to my brewing?" She had already turned away when she heard Zevran's voice, strangely uncertain. "If I might ask... What do you know about controlling magics...? I think I might be under some influence. I fear that something might make me hurt Sonara, I get a strange feeling whenever I look at her..."
"Ah." Morrigan turned and looked at Zevran with those strange yellow eyes, "So you have finally figured it out. Or at least started to."
Zevran looked at her, confused, and she sat down on the other side of the fire.
"Since Redcliffe, you have not been.. yourself as it were."
"Redcliffe.. but that was months ago!"
"I know... I am not sure what has occurred, and I was not about to poke my nose into Sonara's business, but it hardly seems fair to lead you on under false pretences. It stinks of desire manipulation. She probably struck some deal with the demon inside Connor, or some other fade spirit she should have had more sense than to talk to. I hate to think what she bargained with..."
"Sonara would not do something like that..."
Morrigan laughed, not a pleasant sound, "Sonara could not have done it alone, certainly, but such an act is not beyond the mage. She is not as innocent as she seems. Tell me, why do you stay by her side? I very much doubt it would offend your morals to break the verbal contract you gave her, and this is not a risk free adventure you involve yourself in."
"I love her." The words sounded hollow to his ears.
"Why?"
"I.. I am not whole unless I am with her. She is my everything."
"Yes yes, save me the bardic dribble. But why do you love her? Is it that she treats you well? She cares for your feelings and opinions? She respects you?" Morrigan gestured to his arm.
"Sometimes... sometimes she is kind to me..." Zevran felt as if his blood had turned to ice water, and a cold fear gripped his chest. He did not want to believe Morrigan, wanted to run back to Sonara, and have her reassure him that this was all some wicked fantasy concocted by a jealous swamp witch. Yet... through all his declarations of love, never once had Sonara returned the sentiment. He had been so delighted that she accepted his proclamations that he had not thought to seek her reply.
"The hold on you is weakening, now that you have realized."
"Why did you not tell me sooner...?" Zevran's face had turned tight, his words tinged with a growing anger.
"You would not have believed me. Even now, you'd rather discount what I have said in favor of the delusion. So it is up to yourself to either shake yourself free of the shackles, or face the truth. I should warn you though, some truths are hurtful, and you may find you would rather live with lies. If you want, I shall be here. I can rework the magics on your mind. You would be under Sonara's spell yet again, but at least that way, you get a say in the matter."
Zevran could not think what to say, his words deserting him. He gave a stiff bow, his arm still against his chest, the ache seeming of no consequence compared to the feeling that his heart was breaking.
-
By the following morning he had made his decision. Sonara woke to find him over her, watching intently as he stroked her hair, almost reverent in the soft touch of his fingers.
"Good morning, my love."
"Zevran, go make yourself scarce. I am tired, too tired to want to deal with you this early in the day."
"Of course my dear. Shall I make breakfast, perhaps a pot of tea?"
"As you like..." Sonara mumbled through an armful of blankets, and he left her to sleep.
The smell of hot oats and freshly brewed tea woke her, and she sat up to see Zevran carefully place a pot, two cups and a bowl of porridge by her side.
"Breakfast in bed," he announced brightly, "for my sex goddess..."
"You seem chipper..."
"I realized that you are entirely right. Blood magic will surely give you an advantage over your enemies, and who am I to judge you on your talents, when I myself am an assassin. And I meant it when I said I would lay down my life for you, should it come to that. You have my permission, to do whatever you seem necessary if your fight against the darkspawn. I trust you."
Sonara looked at Zevran, his smile serene, and she felt a thrill that the assassin would place his life in her hands so easily.
She pounced upwards, throwing her arms around Zevran's shoulders, kissing against his cheek. He smelt of campfire smoke, and she let the scent fill her nostrils as he brought his hands round to caress her shoulders, running down the line of her spine. She twisted her head to the side, allowing him to place tender kisses down her neck, as she tugged his shirt over his head. She caught his injured arm, and had to pull the shirt over it when it became apparent Zevran could not lift it upwards without pain.
Bodies pressed together, Zevran freeing himself from the rest of his clothes as Sonara clawed her nails over his chest, bringing him out in goosepimples and leaving red lines in their wake. Cupping the back of her neck, he could feel her pulse pounding inside her and the softness of her hair brush against the back of his knuckles. He sighed, taking in every detail, filling his golden eyes with the sight of her. He carefully laid Sonara down upon blankets, still stained with russet from his injured arm, a hand snaking between her legs to find her soft folds, fingers wriggling inside as he breathed soft exhalations of wonder at the mage, arching in anticipation.
When he pressed his erection forwards, he was slow, and steady, marveling at the way Sonara would utter tiny squeaks as she reacted to the sensation of being filled. Each smooth thrust went deep, and let her feel every inch of penetration, sweat beading on his forehead. He told her how beautiful she was, how wonderful and tight and strong and sexy and amazing his grey warden was.
She tightened around his member as she felt climax take her, trembling as she felt Zevran carry on, biting his lip to grant her further pleasure. A single drop of blood smeared on his teeth as he pulled another orgasm from her shivering body, her squeal uninhibitated and unabashed. On hearing her delight, he permitted himself to find release as he drove deep, his own body shaking with the effort. She sighed softly as Zevran settled heavily to her side, curled into her chest, closing his eyes and smiling sleepily. She untangled herself, and gave him a little kiss upon his cheek, as she poured herself a cup of tea.
She was partway through drinking it, when she felt a pain rattle through her head, and her arms feel suddenly heavy and weak. Zevran's eyes snapped open, and he got to his feet, circling around Sonara as she reached for him, scared. She could not speak, the pain stealing away her words.
"I know." he said simply, as the mage drew shaking breaths, watching him with eyes so wide he could see the fear in them. Then she realized that he was not smiling, and the coldness in his eyes told her that her game was over. He *knew*.
"It is a poison, as you might have guessed. A powerful coagulant. It'll curdel your blood, a fitting fate for a blood mage, don't you think? It should also stop you casting, I cannot imagine you can draw power from congealed blood..."
Sonara gave a short scream, cut short as she ran out of air, and pulled her magics about her. Zevran easily evaded the flash of lightening, before Sonara slumped forwards, spilling the tea, her eyes open and pleading with Zevran.
"You should not have played with my heart, Sonara, such a thing it not a toy."
As Sonara's eyes glazed, Zevran felt no triumph. He felt empty, devoid of the fake feelings of love, but missing them even as he wrought his revenge. Pleasure before death was at least one gift he could indulge, even though he felt it was not deserved. It might have been better to give in, to at least life with the pretence of love, than have another woman die in front of him. Still, he reasoned, that did not matter much now.
The flicker of lightening had alerted the camp, and Alistair and the dog came dashing across to see what had happened. The great mabari saw Sonara first, as Zevran causally exited the tent, holding only a blood soaked blanket from the night before to cover himself. The dog looked past the assassin to his mistresses, laying on the ground. His massive head swung from her dead eyes to Zevran's cold ones, and he growled from the depths of his throat. Before Alistair could stop him, he lunged himself at Zevran, all teeth and rage. Later, when Morrigan asked what had occurred (though she suspected she took take an educated guess), a shocked Alistair would say that he thought he had seen Zevran tip his head to one side to expose his neck, just before the mabari's jaws ripped his throat out.
the end.
