It was a short walk back to the Dalish encampment. Kalya prayed silently that Alistair had covered sufficiently for all three of them. If he hadn't, well, at least they had a few more minutes of peace.

When Zevran caught up with Kalya and Morrigan, he burst between them, setting his arms around their shoulders the way teenage elves did in the Alienage. The witch grunted in disgust, shrugged him off, and stormed away at a faster pitch.

Zev let his arm slide off Kalya's shoulder with a chuckle. Dismissing Morrigan had likely been his plan, but one unpleasant side effect was forcing Kalya to realize how long it had been since her last affectionate touch. Camaraderie though it was, it also surfaced a dull ache in her shoulder muscles she'd sufficiently ignored until now.

"So!" Zevran clapped his hands as they walked. Even in the cold, frenetic energy radiated off him. "Shall we kill anything else tonight, mia cara?"

Kalya snorted and rolled her neck, trying to work out the kink in earnest. "We should just get back to camp before Elissa murders us. She has about the same bloodlust as you."

As they walked, Zev balanced a knife's hilt on the palm of his hand. "Thinning the werewolf herd before we set off tomorrow seems a worthwhile endeavor." He stole a glance at her eyes while the knife barely wobbled. "But something tells me you remain faithful in our dear leader's ability to turn them back into their former selves?"

Kalya scoffed. "If she doesn't, I will."

"My Kalya, always out to save the world."

She peered at him out the corner of her eye. "Sort of the Wardens' whole deal."

"Perhaps the Wardens without ambitions of ruling Ferelden."

Kalya flipped her dagger with a wry grin, catching it in a backwards grip and holding its point under Zevran's chin. Reacting on raw instinct, he instantly flattened her arm safely against his chest, pulling the dagger's tip away while wrenching her body closer to his. Her heart rabbited, and she gulped the surge of adrenaline down. This lyrium affliction of his nearly had her Warden strength matched.

"What's that about my bloodlust?" Zev asked.

"Did you just say I have no ambition?" Kalya's eyes narrowed as he released her arm.

A chuckle rolled low in his throat. "Ambition to rule a kingdom and protect the realm are two very different things, no matter what the bards sing."

"Oh, yeah." Kalya rolled her eyes. "Elissa could learn a lot from me."

Zevran nodded earnestly, then cocked his head, studying her with scrunched eyebrows. "You've been holding your arm wrong. Are you well?"

"Yeah," she said, circling it in its socket. "I tweaked my shoulder jumping on that guy's back. Easiest fucking fight I've had in weeks and I pull something. Nothing a salve and a night's sleep won't fix."

"You could have asked our feathered friend."

"Nah." Kalya waved her hand. "If I were a mage, I'd be constantly annoyed at having to heal everyone's stubbed toes."

Now it was Zev's turn to roll his eyes. "Yes, what a pain it is to dabble in one's strong suit. Do remind me next time you find a locked chest."

Kalya elbowed him in the ribs and instantly regretted it. A shock of pain radiated up her arm, and she clutched it tight.

Zevran clucked his tongue. "You remember I am skilled in the art of rubbing things."

Kalya sighed loudly enough to scare woodland creatures from the nearby brush.

"Rubbing knots out of muscles. Why, what did you think I meant?"

"Yeah, I can guess how your massages end."

"You wound me, Kalla," he said, grasping at his chest. "Were any of our amorous nights together under false pretense? I aim to make it quite clear when I intend on -"

"Okay!" The conversation was raising heat to the tips of her ears. "Sure. You were clear. I don't know! I wouldn't remember anyway."

She lifted her elbow to test her arm's range of motion and winced it back down.

The truth of it was, she was saving salves and potions for the early walk the next day, as one does when Elissa goes barging into a fight impatiently. But Kalya was inviting more wounds later if she couldn't even lift her arm tonight.

"I guess… maybe it wouldn't hurt."

"Only if you wanted it to."

Kalya shot him a look, and Zevran raised his hands, blinking slowly.

"Just a joke. And just a massage, mia cara. You have my word."

Thunk. Thud.

Ping. Thud.

The camp had seemed quiet when they arrived, with only the sentries awake and about. But as Kalya was setting her pack inside her tent, curiosity got the better of her. Strange noises led her to the eating area, where she found Alistair pacing to the table, fists full of small knives. His face flashed dark crimson when he noticed who approached.

"I was, er, hoping that accuracy was a Warden thing. You make it look so effortless!"

Tongue out in concentration, he threw one of the knives towards the tree. Where hers had flown end-over-end, his wobbled erratically in the air, hit the bark sideways, then pinged off a nearby stone.

"Yes, well, you make swinging a broadsword look effortless, but I'll bet if I lifted one of those, I'd fall over backwards and impale myself."

Alistair narrowed his eyes. "On the hilt? That would take skill."

"Skill at hurting myself? That I have."

Alistair chucked another knife. This one missed the tree entirely, pinged off the rock, and flew back towards them. The two Wardens ducked.

His lips scrunched as he straightened. "Yeah, that's about enough Throwy-Knifey for tonight."

As Alistair retrieved the weapons, Kalya tugged on the invisible string within that connected to darkspawn and Wardens alike. Elissa was asleep - no, pacing - in her tent.

"Hey," she started. Alistair's head perked up like a mabari. "I wanted to thank you. Judging by the fact that I'm not murdered, I'm guessing your chat with Elissa went… as well as could be expected."

"Yeah, I, uh, convinced her it was a great idea - of hers - not to leave in the middle of the night. Strength and rest, and all that."

"Which is why you're out here tossing knives into trees."

Alistair smiled and offered a wide shrug, keeping his secrets. "She's not thrilled right now." Then he gulped and waved a hand. "Not at you. I didn't tell her you'd asked. She's just… yeah, I'm not sure what to say."

"Well, thank you. For your diplomacy and your… discretion."

A rustling from the storage aravels perked both their heads up, only to reveal a Dalish sentry approaching with an armful of firewood. The two Wardens nodded as she passed. With a shiver, Kalya realized she hadn't truly noticed how summer had come and gone. After a few moments, the firepit at the center of the camp popped and cracked to life.

Alistair leaned towards the warmth, keeping his voice low. "Regardless, we are definitely leaving tomorrow, and not by Elissa's wishes alone. I fear we've overstayed our welcome."

"Oh?" Kalya's mind ran through possible offenses. Zathrian had seemed as welcoming as one could ask towards a group of strangers eating them out of house and home. "Shit, we should replenish their supplies before we leave. It didn't occur to me."

"No, it's nothing like that. One of us has overstayed our welcome, and I'm afraid that now applies to all of us. After I spoke with Elissa tonight, she marched to Zathrian's tent and demanded to be told why she wasn't informed of the Hermit and the acorn. She accused him of hiding maps from her!"

"I would have, with the welcome she gave him."

Alistair snorted. "Yes, well, to hear Elissa proclaim it, now that we have a path to Witherfang, we'll have the treaties signed and the Landsmeet over by the next full moon!"

"A moon joke while surrounded by werewolves," Kalya nodded. "Impressive."

Alistair smiled, a wistful gaze in his eyes. "Ah, would that making terrible puns revoked my eligibility to the throne. Wait, it doesn't, does it?"

"You sound so eager to be king."

"Would you want me as a ruler?"

Kalya gave a deep sigh. "Who rules Ferelden doesn't affect me, I'm afraid."

"You say that now." Alistair jabbed a finger. "Next thing you know, I've stepped on the wrong gown and suddenly we all have to learn to speak Orlesian real quick."

"Isn't that what advisors are for? If it's inevitable, you might as well have some fun with it. You could rule in your night-clothes. Keep pet nugs at court. Spend your days wine-drunk?"

Concern suddenly creased Alistair's features in the orange firelight. His hand twitched up, as if he were about to clasp hers, but it retreated to his side.

"I don't…" Kalya's cheeks flushed. "I should get new jokes. I just meant you could do whatever you want."

"Kalya, there's never… it feels strange to bring up, but we're all really proud of you. You know that, right?"

She blew out a breath. "You don't have to say that. And you don't have to… worry."

Alistair was quiet for a long moment. Kalya shifted, suddenly uncomfortably warm in her leathers. She was about to excuse herself to bed when he lifted his gaze.

"It's... been difficult, I'd imagine?"

"Yes." Her bluntness twitched her eyebrow. She'd really expected a deflection to come out, but here she was. "Yes, but… I've used up all my luck. And goodwill. So it had to stick this time."

"It will, Kalya. And we're here for you. Easy things or hard."

"Thank you. For tonight and... everything."

The knives Alistair was holding shifted in one hand, and he raked through his too-long hair with the other. "And now if you'll forgive me, I'm off for that 'rest' everyone's been talking about."

"Yes, that 'brilliant idea of Elissa's.'"

Alistair smiled down through the sandy blond hair that had fallen over his eyes. He looked so much more like a man than when they'd first met. When he dipped his head to her, she was suddenly struck how very regal he looked, even as hard as he fought against it.

"Good night, Kalya," he said with a light bow before retreating back to his tent.

Everything but Kalya's bedroll, sheet, and warm woolen blanket was packed tightly into her bag for the next day's travels. Nervous energy - and an arm that ached when she reclined - kept her pacing around her tent. The unknowing of what to expect from the massage churned her nerves, and not even in the good way. Was there a good way to churn? Fuck!

It wasn't just because Alistair had brought up the subject, because it was always front-of-mind, but adding to her tension were intrusive thoughts of how much more relaxing the massage would be with a single glass of red. Kalya closed her eyes and blew out a steadying breath.

A purposeful cleared-throat outside her tent flap let her know Zevran arrived. No footsteps ever alerted her to his presence.

When she bade him enter, he tipped the flap with the back of his hand and smiled genially. A hint of calmness fell over her when she detected no ulterior motives flickering behind his eyes. Just the flirtation that never fully went away.

It was true what he'd said earlier. When they'd laid together before, she recalled no promises of something else that led to accidental love-making. So then why was she on edge?

When Zev held up a small bottle of oil in the dim lantern light, Kalya blew out a held breath. He nodded towards her armor, which she was still very much wearing.

"I'm afraid it ruins any leather it touches."

Kalya nodded slowly. An unusual fluttering tightened her stomach. Not butterflies, because those were harbingers of excitement. This was something like fight or flight, and she couldn't will it away.

She made him turn his back while she undressed, which he did with a chaste smile. When she gave him the all-clear to turn back around, he coughed a laugh into his fist seeing her flat on her bedroll, tucked up to the chin under her sheet.

"I don't mean to laugh, mia cara, but… shall I massage you over the scratchy linens? I'm afraid you'll be less than satisfied with my services, but if it is your wish..."

"You can… roll it down when you need to," she said. The elf bowed his head.

Zevran poured the oil into his palm and slowly worked it between his slender fingers. Bending back a triangle of fabric to reveal her hurt arm, he went straight to work palming a warm circle around her shoulder, pulling skin away from the soreness, working his thumb between her muscles, gently at first, then harder. Deeper. The glide of his nimble fingers over her skin could have lulled her to sleep if the ache weren't so palpable.

After some time, Zevran replaced the triangle of fabric and made his way to the other shoulder, working the tension out in slow rotations that gave way to larger and deeper circles. Whenever he came upon the whorl of a knot, he deftly knuckled its center, leaning into her until it was well worked out.

Several times, Kalya had to put effort into suppressing a moan… but eventually, deep sighs crept out of their own accord. The elf was skilled. Zevran paid her accidentally sensual sounds no mind as he continued his work.

He worked his way down the length of her arms, rolling her bicep, her forearm, stretching his fingers between hers.

When he bade her flip on her stomach, she rotated under the linens. They were seriously scratchy; a fact that had gone unnoticed until now since no one in Ferelden slept nude.

Zevran peeled the sheets down the plane of her back and made to tuck it just above her ass, when Kayla suddenly tensed and jumped. Her arm tugged the sheet back up to her shoulder blades, covering the broadsword scar from her Trial of Crows.

"My Kalya," Zev said quietly, "You know I've seen you quite naked."

"That was different." Her voice snapped more than intended.

"Because you wanted me... then?" There was no flirtation. Just something like sadness.

Kalya was grateful she couldn't meet his gaze.

"No. You know why."

"Because you were drunk and uninhibited?"

"Yes," she said. "And so were you."

Zevran blew out a soft breath. "And you think that makes your body any less lovely in the harsh light of sobriety?"

"Yes!" she cried. The linen scratched against her scars, but when it fell again to reveal her midsection, she pulled it back over herself quickly. The move cost her - and not just her shoulder. The darkspawn wound at her side always pulsated pain at night, the closer she got to sleep and to nightmares.

"I see." Zevran returned his attention back to the tightness in her upper arms. "You know, I remember all too well the sight of the broadsword splitting you, as well as the ogre's attack. I see them every time I close my eyes. Your scars are beautiful reminders of how grateful I am that you still fight by my side."

"Come on, Zev," she said, flipping onto her back under the sheet, clutching it close to her neck. "You forget I can see them. They're not attractive. You'll keep your thoughts to yourself, but a polite lie is still a lie."

Zevran looked horrified. Kalya's pulse quickened with concern that she had actually hurt him. After all, he must have had scars as well, but she didn't remember them. Shame heated her cheeks. There was so much she didn't remember...

"Do you truly believe I would think such things about you?"

"Why not?" Kalya shrugged under the linens. "I think them about myself."

"Then you must stop, I implore you. Kalya, we made love after you got that scar on your abdomen -"

"Yes, Zev, drunk. Everything I've ever fucked up has been because of alcohol, including getting these scars."

"Kalya, nearly everyone I make love to has been… battle worn. Warriors, rogues, all of them with scars, and all of them exquisitely beautiful. You included. Scars are a part of life for those like us, mi amore." He shook his head, blinking away disbelief. "What do you do when you see your lovers' marks?"

Ah. "I don't… I've never…"

"Never… noticed?"

Kalya blew out a breath of frustration. "I've never... done it. Like this."

"Like what?"

"Maker, you'd make me say it?" She squeezed her eyes shut. It had been a long time since she'd felt so uncomfortable talking about sex. "Sober. Are you happy?"

Zevran was quiet for a long moment. She wasn't going to look at him, afraid of what she'd see. And she'd never admitted that to anyone before. The dying fire outside her tent gave a lonely pop as the logs shifted.

Finally, he answered. "No. That's very sad."

When Kalya opened her eyes, Zevran was gazing at her, his mask indecipherable. Was he sorry for suggesting the massage in the first place? Did he pity her? Did he regret the intimacy they'd shared?

Zevran, who was always ready with a bawdy joke and who wore his heart on his sleeve when it came to sex, was suddenly surprisingly difficult to read.

Fuck it. She couldn't stand the silence any longer. "Well, it's a good thing you didn't come here under the pretense of something more, because this is the mood Sober Me sets. Pity and stunned silence. Sexy."

"Kalya." Zevran suddenly tucked a finger underneath her chin to direct her averted gaze to his. "The only thing I pity is your inability to believe how attractive you are."

She gulped hard.

"Your strength, your spirit, your command of the battlefield, of - of amusing young elves around the dinner table... The way you protect those you care about. Everything about you inspires me - and others. It's a wonder you can't see it."

Her mouth opened to answer, hung in the air, then snapped shut.

Zevran cocked his head with genuine curiosity. "Do you truly think the rest of us have not done things we regret? That we aren't all trying to distance ourselves from who we were in the past?"

Kalya knew it was rhetorical. She knew. But her response was rattling around so loudly in her head, she couldn't keep it contained. "Not everyone has put the whole party's lives in danger, running off half-drunk into a swarm of darkspawn."

"Your price for that has been paid." Zevran winced, making no attempt to hide it. "Though the Wardens' shortened lifespan seems too high a cost."

With a small shake of his head, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, to give his back a great stretch. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, then he chuckled away whatever he was about to say.

Kalya couldn't stand it. "You have to admit. I'm a mood killer."

"I won't. And I'll tell you why." With a demure grin, his eyes rose to the ceiling of her dim tent, then to every corner that didn't contain her. He worked the edge of his lips between his teeth, clearly debating his next sentence.

"Kalya, it's no secret how attracted I am to you." He leaned further, his breath ghosting along the shell of her ear. "I will always respect your wishes. But if you would permit me, someday, I would cherish the opportunity to convince you how deserving you are of happiness, and how exquisitely beautiful I find every inch of you."

Kalya felt as breathless as if she'd just won in combat. How was it possible that her pulse could race at the same time her heart was melting?

"Just, uh… Just a massage, huh?"

Zev chuckled low. "A massage to your shoulder and your ego."

Something else began to coil through her veins. A want she hadn't let herself feel for some time.

Zevran leaned even closer, lips barely touching the tips of her ear. "Kalya, I do wish to worship you, with a clear mind for us both..." Her toes curled as he spoke. "Another night," he finished.

"Another night?" she echoed. She followed his gaze as he sat back on his heels.

He smiled and dipped his head. "I gave you my word. Just a massage."

Kalya blinked, stunned.

"You think me a tease?" he asked. "It's all right. I've been called worse."

"No. No." Her answer was earnest. "I appreciate… you keeping your word." Now to convince her racing blood of that fact.

Zev shook his head with a chuckle. "Oh, believe me. That look of want in your eyes will give me plenty to go on. But for tonight, let the thought of how thoroughly I'd worship your body spiral through your mind."

Kalya blew out a breath.

Zevran returned the cap to his bottle of oil, wiped his hands on a small cloth, and made his way quietly to her tent's entrance. He turned at the flap with a mischievous smile.

"Sleep well, Kalya. Of course... you needn't sleep right away."

Then he ducked silently out of her tent.

Kalya's heart fluttered in her chest. Her eyelids were heavy, but the images he'd set playing in her mind were something she couldn't easily dismiss. Vignettes of everything she and Zevran had already shared together appeared in her mind's eye, fuzzy and uninhibited and arousing. A gasp. Dragged teeth. A snap of the hips.

When she was certain Zevran had made it back to his own tent, Kalya closed her eyes. Her hands, still slick with the oil massaged between her fingers, made their way under the scratchy linens and between her legs. The urgent, pulsing memory of how Zevran had once made her feel danced through her mind as she worked with her deft, slender hands.