A/N: Don't know how I feel about this one…but s bit of exposition about the group's mysterious plan needed to happen, and I felt that this conversation needed to happen as well…just wish it had happened more seamlessly, but after five hours of staring at my screen and trying to make it work, this is the best I could do. One more chapter after this then it's party time!
"Must we do this? It really is just too embarrassing," Alistair pleaded, his cheeks flush with color.
"How is it you have been King this long and have never learned to dance, Alistair?" Zevran asked wearily as he watched the trio of musicians quietly set up their instruments in a corner. They had chosen Zevran's modest room within the castle for this particular lesson, reasoning it was far enough away from the general populace that they would not be intruded upon.
"I can dance," the man replied defensively, "just…not very well. And certainly nothing along the lines of what you're asking of me. Can't we just spin about the floor a few times and be done with it?"
"I've explained this, mon ami, for our plan to succeed it must be a dance that will capture our audience's attention, assassins and loyal advisors alike. And trust me when I say the sight of the King partnering an elf in such a dance as this will turn a fair amount of heads."
"Yes, but do you have to be the one to teach me?" Alistair whined, put out at having to do something so intimate with someone he borderline despised.
"Our fair Leliana is still recovering from her injury, and who better to teach the Antivan tango than one whose blood sings with its very nature? Now, come, pretend I am the lovely Harlow and dazzle me with your prowess," Zevran said mockingly, arms held out in readiness.
"Can we please leave her out of this?" Alistair hissed as he roughly gripped the other man's hand in his.
"Such a hard thing to do when I am teaching you to partner her, yes?" the elf said as he wrapped Alistair's arm about his slender waist. He nodded to the musicians and took a breath as the opening bar of the fiery music filled the room.
The sound of strings and drum softly filled the air and wove a tale of passion and desire. The Antivan tango was a dance that spoke of possession and sexual heat, slowly smoldering until it erupted in a burst of frenetic energy and life. Zevran always had a fondness for the dance, finding that it nicely embodied his own verve and passion for pleasure. Yet as the minutes ticked by he began to feel less and less affection for the steps as Alistair proceeded to stumble and stomp his way through the song.
"Enough!" he cried after Alistair had indelicately stepped up on his tender toes for the fifth time. "You have less grace than a bronto, yes? If this is how you dance I can only imagine that you make love like a rutting hala!"
"I'm not quite used to partnering men, Zevran, in dance or otherwise" Alistair growled.
"Thank the maker for small blessings," the elf muttered as he paced about the room. "You are thinking too much, you must let the music fill you, let your heart beat as one with the rhythm. You must feel the strings in your blood and you must treat your partner as if they are your lover."
"I am not treating you as any such thing," Alistair protested, arms crossed against his chest.
"Pity that," Zevran said dryly. "I was not goading you when I spoke of Harlow earlier. As much as it pains me, you will be her partner in this, yes? Then you must think upon her when dancing the steps, otherwise you will continue to be the bumbling oaf you are."
Alistair said nothing but held his hands out in tacit agreement. The Antivan sighed and motioned for the musicians to begin anew as he once again took his starting position.
"She is amazing, no?" he murmured softly as the pair slowly circled about one another, "the strength she carries like a well worn cloak. It is as much a part of her as breathing." Alistair tensed slightly at the words, but Zevran pressed on, determined in his course. "And yet it belies a softness that resides beneath, a facet of her that only the privileged few get to see. It makes one want to treasure her and keep her safe from harm." As the two men executed a simple turn Zevran caught the moment in which Alistair was focusing more on the elf's words than his feet. Suppressing a grin and noting the slight tempo change in music, he pressed his attack further. "The way those eyes, green as emeralds, flash in the moonlight, they haunt you, yes? How often have you longed to lose yourself in their depths as you run a hand through her silken hair." Alistair's gaze became unfocused, and yet, despite such a thing, the man continued to gracefully slink about the room. The pair had reached the crescendo of the song and Zevran lowered his pitch, voice gone throaty and seductive. "Do you long to touch her, Alistair? To feel her soft skin gliding against yours?"
He needed say no more, for Alistair had lost himself in the rhythm of the song, and the two men glided sinuously through the remaining steps, a study in masculinity and desire. It was only when Alistair had bent the elf over his arm, lips hovering at the pulse point of his throat, was the spell broken. The King quickly righted the two and eagerly stepped away, an embarrassed blush creeping up his neck.
"Brava, your majesty. You shall do quite nicely," Zevran said softly before turning to dismiss the musicians. Silence crept between them once left alone, and neither spoke, each too lost in their thoughts to do such a thing. Eventually Zevran strode to his meager pack and extracted a bottle of wine from its depths, uncorking it without ceremony and drinking deep. Alistair watched him, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"It's true then," the King said after a moment's pause.
"To what are you referring my dear man?" Zevran asked offhandedly as he sunk gracefully into a nearby chair.
"The way you spoke of her…the things you said; you love her."
The elf stilled instantly, body tense with emotion. "That was not your secret to know," he whispered softly, eyes glued to the bottle in his hands.
"Nonetheless I do."
Quiet once again descended on the men as they puzzled out the implications from such a thing. Alistair felt a war within himself, torn between jealousy and sympathy for the man seated across from him. He all too well knew what it was to love Harlow Tabris from a distance; and yet for a brief shining time he had known what is was for her to return those affections. It was for that simple fact alone that he could not hate the elf; for in the end, he had experienced that state of being, and Zevran had not.
"Sometimes, I envy you so much it chokes me," the Antivan said suddenly, his voice fierce and strained, "to think that despite the pain you put her through, she loves you still. It must be a glorious thing, Alistair, to know that no matter the hurt, her heart is always yours."
"Oh yes, it is a delight to know that the woman despises herself for loving me," he replied bitterly. "Especially when I stop to think that you got the better bargain." Zevran raised his head at that, a confused look on his features. "Over the last year her and I have barely been able to be in the same room without hurling insults at each other…but the moment she unintentionally hurt you, it broke something inside her. Think what you like, but you have a place in her heart, a place far more dear and entrenched than I ever was."
"I do not know who suffers more," Zevran said with a sad chuckle, "you or I? But perhaps it is her, who feels the sting of this the most."
A knock at the door had the two men turning as an elven maid scurried into the room, eyes down cast.
"Begging your pardon, my lords, but mistress Tabris says she's ready for her lesson."
"You're teaching her as well?" Alistair said softly, a hint of anger in his words. He regretted the tone instantly when he saw the flash of pain in the man's eyes. It would hurt Zevran to teach Harlow these steps, to hold her so close and move so intimately with her, knowing that it was but a lesson and not life. Understanding this, he softened his tone but none the less let the warning slip out as the elf rose to leave. "Know this, Zev, if you use this as a reason to seduce her out of her smalls….I'll kill you."
"My dear king, were it not for the fact that it would destroy her, I would have killed you long ago. Is love not grand?" And with that Zevran slipped out to attend his next lesson, leaving Alistair alone with a troubled mind and a heavy heart.