Many thanks to those who've added this to favorites/alerts and taken the time to review. Your comments and support are much appeciated. I always enjoy hearing what people key in on in a story. Thanks once again to brownc0at for the beta thing. And, of course, to Bioware for letting me play with their toys.

Ok, there's a bit of an AU slant to this chapter and the next few. In DA:O, the game has you traipsing all over Ferelden looking for Andraste's ashes to cure Eamon. While I enjoyed the quest and loved the graphics of the temple, it never seemed like the best way to solive the problem of Eamon's 'illness.' Without modern medicine, IV's and anti-biotics, etc, it's highly unlikely an unconscious man, (unable to eat and drink) would survive long enough to survive weeks of waiting. Spoonng water into someone always carries the risk of aspirating it into the lungs, resulting in infection. So, I wote an alternate solution to Eamon's little problem. Hope you enjoy it.


Zevran Arainai

My Warden was tight as a drawn bowstring, the muscles in his arms and shoulders tensing and flexing, as though he wanted to pull his sword. Considering the topic of our just finished conversation, I had a fairly good idea whose blood he would like to see dripping off of it. Combine that with four days with little sleep, two of those fighting the walking dead, not to mention fighting for the life of a child, and he was ready to snap. All that unresolved tension was going to go somewhere, and not necessarily in the best direction. Probably a very bad direction. And if sex hadn't released that sort of tension for him in the past, well, he hadn't had me as a lover, had he?

I eased closer and called to him in a soft voice, the kind a lover uses, and touched his face lightly. Ah, he had such beautiful eyes, grey but threaded through with flecks of turquoise and emerald that glittered when he was roused…and not just by desire.

His breathing quickened. A faint flush spread down his neck and into his chest. His lips parted, and he leaned in till they just brushed mine. Then he gripped my shoulders and rested his forehead against mine.

"This is not the best time."

My fingers brushed his cheek. "Trust me, my Warden, there is never a 'best time.' And I'm not saying that just because I want to get you naked. Though that is a most pleasant thought." He pulled back to look at me, but kept his hands on my shoulders. I fingered a loose strand of his hair, like russet amber, and watched it curl around my finger.

He gazed at me a moment, then kissed me on the lips, very lightly and very gently, as if I were something fragile. Then he slipped out of my hands and out of the room.

"Mierde," I muttered and fell back on the bed to stare at the dusty cobwebs on the ceiling, my loins throbbing. He hadn't said yes, but he hadn't said no. And I wasn't even sure if there was a 'maybe' in there. If he were anyone else, I would think him a tease, but he didn't seem the type. He was too direct in his dealings. But Maker, why did Fereldans make desire so complicated? How did the whorehouses stay in business?

I drew in a deep breath and focused on getting my desires back under control.

"Ah, there you are," Wynne said from the doorway. Fortunately, by this time, my blood had cooled.

I propped myself up on my arms.

"You were looking for me, my lovely one?" Now that did surprise me.

She glided into the room and folded her arms. "I have something important I'd like to discuss with you, and I prefer not to waste time or words fencing around the only topic you ever seem to think about."

"It's not the only thing," I said, sitting up. "Sometimes, I think about thinking about it."

She glared at me. "Do not try my patience. I have little of it these days."

The temperature in the room dropped and a cold breeze brushed across my face. Her hands tightened on her arms and her head bowed. After a few moments the room warmed up, and she looked at me again, like a mother ready to rebuke a child. I thought it prudent not to tease her any further. In her own way, she was a more powerful mage than Morrigan.

I leaned forward and took an easy pose. "All right, you've found me. What do you wish?" I just managed to keep the 'fair one' off the tip of my tongue, though it insisted on hovering there.

"As an assassin, I'm sure you're familiar with a variety of poisons."

I cocked my head. "Ah, a professional consultation. I assume you're looking for an antidote for whatever that Jowan mage slipped into the Arl's food or drink."

She nodded.

"Yes, his wife did mention something about him not responding to the healers. Not even you?"

She sighed and settled in one of the chairs at the table. "No, not even me. Whatever bargain that poor child made with the demon, it only kept the Arl from completely fading away. He is still unconscious, and if he doesn't wake soon, he'll die."

"So, how do you think I can help? The demon could have purged the poison, then done something else to him."

She smoothed a wrinkle in her skirts. "I don't think it did. A body afflicted by poison has a certain…feel to it, different from one ravaged by an illness."

"And this is how Arl Eamon feels?"

She nodded. I sighed and reached for my boots. I had a feeling this was going to be a long night, and not the enjoyable kind of long.

"I need to see Jowan, if that will be permitted. Without knowing what kind of poison he used, the wrong antidote could be worse than useless." I looked up from pulling on my boots. "Aside from the fact that he's unconscious, how is the arl?"

"His breathing and heartbeat are strong and steady." Her still lovely face went thoughtful. "It's almost as if he were sleeping."

"Mierde, that's not good," I said, giving a last jerk to my left boot.

"Which means-…?"

"Nothing that should be translated in such lovely company, my dear Wynne. And please, permit me that small flattery."

She sighed and rose. "All right, but what did you mean by, 'that's not good'? Did you recognize the poison?"

I rose and straightened my shirt. "There are a fair number of possibilities. Only a few of which have an antidote. If it is one of those, the remedy should still be effective even at this time. If not…" I shrugged.

"How can you be so cavalier about death?" She actually sounded surprised.

"I'm an assassin, and you're asking me this?" I didn't mean to be flippant, but sometimes these things just…come out. Old habits are hard to shake.

The room went cold, then warm again. She rubbed her temples. "Child, you drive me to distraction." Then she sighed and rose. "Come, I'll see if I can convince the First Enchanter to let you speak with Jowan."

"Ah, one thing I would request of you."

She turned in the doorway. "What is it?"

"The First Enchanter doesn't need to know of my…profession, I think."

She arched a brow. "Oh, were you planning on telling him?"

I laughed and motioned for her to lead the way.