When Solona's eyes opened next, Barkly was on the bed beside her, looking her in the eyes with soft chocolate brown eyes that radiated love. She pet the dog gently, her fingers gliding over the scar that showed where the ear had been torn nearly from his head… he flicked it up at her with the tongue-out equivalent of a doggie chuckle that said "that tickles!" and she knew Anders or a healing poultice had set it right without going so far as to heal cosmetically.
"Good dog," she croaked, her throat raw and dry.
There was movement at the side of her bed, and Solona looked up blearily as Zevran came into view, pouring her a mug full of… something. "Well now you've done it, my dear Warden-Commander. Anders and I are quite annoyed with you."
Solona tried to sit up but was as weak as a kitten. Zevran slid an arm under her shoulders and eased her up as he held the cup to her lips and she drank deeply. As she finished the mug he set it aside, then sat on the bed, letting her use his shoulder and side as a prop.
"You were, if I am not mistaken, told that you were to have four days of uninterrupted rest, and then you run off with your very fine hound without letting any of the rest of us mere mortals know where you were going? Very poor form indeed, my dear heart. And what was it that sent you running off, I wonder? No matter."
He stroked her hair. "You are confined to bed, my own, for the next four days. And to make sure you STAY there, Anders and I will be taking turns."
Solona's eyes widened. "What?"
"Sitting with you, of course. Really, my deadly radiant beauty, what did you think I meant?" He grinned wickedly.
She radiated annoyance, and started to try to swing her legs over to the side of the bed to get up. As if waiting to see just this move, Barkly plopped himself across her legs and put his head in her lap with an annoyed grumble.
"You too, you brute?" she complained.
"A foursome, Ser Barkly? I don't know… I made a promise long ago: no children or animals." Zevran scratched behind the dog's ear.
"Let me up!" Solona demanded.
Zevran looked at her. "To what purpose?"
"First, the chamberpot," she said mockingly. "Next… this keep won't run itself…"
"No, it will not, but that is not your concern at the moment," Zevran said firmly. "Nathaniel's been working closely with Varel and Garavel to make sure the keep itself runs well. As for you…." Zevran smiled in a way that served to make her a little nervous. "If we need to tie you to the bed to make sure you rest, so be it. Of course, I can think of more interesting ways to keep you in bed… some involving ropes and others not."
"This isn't funny," she grumbled.
His expression changed then – completely serious. "No," he said, "it is not. We nearly lost you because you made a poor, emotional decision – when you are exhausted and need rest. I am quite serious when I tell you I will use all means, fair or not, to keep you right here until you've healed and rested sufficiently."
She raised an eyebrow. "I take it Anders is fully on board with this 'all means fair or not' business?"
"You can always ask him…. Or we could invite him." Zevran said.
She shooed Zevran out of the room. "Let me use the damned thundermug in piece, man," she grumbled.
