I must apologize for the delay in this update! Real life really interefered with my writing recently - I am thrilled to be back! I missed it so much!
The greatest of all thanks to voltagelisa - thank you for always being there for me! I would be lost without you!
Thanks to everyone who has read and favorited this story!
A special welcome to my newest readers: Constantano, Steve 69, Deeca, and Sharem - You make all the craziness worthwhile!
To the awesome "We Hate Howe Club" and my repeat reviewers: voltagelisa, Lavinia Luscious, zevgirl, Miltonia, CCBug, sandradee27, Nithu, Nanicane, WitchWeaver,
tgail73, KayraCousland, Eriana10, AlexSavard, AdalaeAmell, heavenXscent, and Deliciously Weird: I never cease to be amazed at the wonderful support you give!
"Makers' Breath! This is magnificent!" Leliana exclaimed as she turned about, gazing at the detailed arches high above her head. "Brother Genitivi, look at the etchings!" she said, pulling Sten, who was still holding the injured man, toward the nearest column.
Zeva smiled warmly at the excited bard, and turned to Duncan, placing a hard on his arm. "Brother Genitivi is not going to be able to accompany us any further," she said quietly. The Warden Commander nodded his assent. "I suggest we leave a few party members here with him as protection and continue on with a smaller group."
"I was thinking the very same thing," he agreed, taking in their surroundings. "We have no idea what dangers lie ahead, and he would only slow us down."
Calling their companions together, Duncan addressed the group. "We need to move forward, and it is quite obvious that Brother Genitivi will be unable to continue with us," he began, inclining his head toward the scholar. "For this reason, I think it would be best if a few of us stayed here to guard the door, while the rest move forward in search of the Urn."
"Wynne," Zeva began, "I would like you to stay here, in case Brother Genitivi needs any further medical attention. Sten, if you and Leliana could stay, as well, as I have a feeling we have not seen the last of our dragon cult friends, and I do not wish them to sneak up behind us."
"Do you think that will be enough, Zeva?" Duncan asked casually. "Perhaps Morrigan or Zevran…"
"You may stop right there, Warden Commander," Zevran interrupted, his eyes flashing angrily. "I have no intention of leaving Zeva's side, and I am certain our lovely witch feels the same; do you not, my dear?"
Morrigan smirked, moving closer to the assassin. "I don't think I have ever agreed with you more, elf," she said, glaring at Duncan.
"Oh, wonderful," Zeva declared, rolling her eyes. "This should be fun…" Turning on her heel, she grabbed Alistair's arm, pulling him further into the temple. "Come, on, Ali," she said exasperatedly. "Let's leave the children here to work this out amongst themselves." Nihlus fell into place at her other side and the trio strolled away. The three combatants followed close behind them, the tension so thick it was nearly visible.
As the last of the group departed, Leliana turned to Wynne. "I find myself quite glad that I have been left behind, if the last few moments are an indication of what is to come with that particular group," she said, shaking her head slowly.
"As do I, my dear," Wynne said, smiling softly. "I am afraid it is only a matter of time before we see a violent confrontation between Duncan and the assassin. Zevran refuses to relent when it comes to Zeva, regardless of the fact that she had made her choice."
"Morrigan isn't helping matters," Leliana huffed, infuriated with the meddling witch. "She seems determined to separate them."
Wynne placed a comforting hand on the bard's shoulder. "That much is certain," the mage agreed. "Luckily, Zeva has you and I to make sure Morrigan remains a small problem, not a large one. I am not one to interfere, but I will no longer stand idly by and allow that evil creature to insinuate herself into the Wardens' lives."
"You read my mind," Leliana said and smiled brightly at the elderly woman.
o~~~~~~~~o
"You know, my darling Warden," Zevran said as the last of the wraiths vanished at his feet, "one would think that when the number of enemies increases with each chest you open, you might consider curbing your curiosity, just this once." Zeva laughed heartily, kneeling before yet another chest and picking the lock; reaching inside and removing a set of scale mail gloves, placing them in her pack.
"Where is your sense of adventure?" she asked, rising from the stone floor and turning toward him, smiling mischievously. Their journey through the ancient temple had been nothing if not an adventure thus far. They had encountered scores of dragon cultists, numerous wraiths and even a bronto. The bronto had been especially challenging; but in the end, it had proven no match for the coordinated party. Zevran attracted the creature's attention; when it charged at him, Zeva jumped onto its back, deftly avoiding the spiked horns which protruded from the bronto's spine, and drove her blades into its neck. Duncan and Alistair flanked the animal's sides, and the trio quickly disabled the raging beast.
Moving purposefully, the companions continued their search of the ruins, encountering numerous cultists along the way. The stone walls which surrounded them eventually gave way to a series of crudely excavated tunnels. As Zeva climbed through the hole in the temple wall, she was stopped by Morrigan, who grasped her arm gently and pulled her back inside.
"Wait a moment," Morrigan said quietly. Zeva watched as the witch moved into the passage, her eyes focused before her. "I will be back," she announced and transformed into a Swarm, drifting slowly down the corridor. She returned several minutes later, reverting to her human form.
"Morrigan, is something wrong?" Zeva asked, concerned by the stern expression on her friend's face.
"Our enemies have changed," the witch replied, gazing steadily at the party. "From this moment on, we will have more to concern ourselves with than mindless cultists. Ahead I found several clutches of dragon eggs; many broken open, as the creatures have hatched. We must prepare for a very difficult battle."
Shaking his head, Duncan stepped forward, slipping into the stone hallway. He turned back, extending a hand to Zeva to help her through. "Dragons – just wonderful," he muttered irritably, wishing he had never heard of the Guerrins.
o~~~~~~~~o
Teagan sat by the lake, gazing out over the water. He and Isolde had seen Senior Enchanter Irving and his party off earlier in the day, as they were needed back at the Circle Tower to help with the rebuilding efforts. Irving had left one of his mages behind to care for Fergus and Eamon, and two Templars had remained to guard Jowan until his brother recovered and could pass judgment on the would-be murderer.
If Eamon recovers, Teagan thought wearily. No word had been received from the Wardens' party, and he wondered how long his brother would continue to survive without the Ashes. Thinking of the mission brought new pain to his heart, as he knew Zeva was in danger each moment she was away from him.
My beautiful Zeva, where are you? Teagan pondered, staring at the outcropping of rocks where the couple had made love not so long ago. He could clearly recall the floral scent of her hair, and the way her body molded to his as he entered her, her cries of passion filling his ears. He knew that she was with Duncan now, and the idea of the Warden Commander touching her was nearly more than he could stand. Somehow, he would find a way to reclaim what he had lost through his own foolish actions.
"Pardon me, Bann," Ser Perth said quietly, bringing Teagan's thoughts back to the present. Turning, he saw the knight standing at attention several feet away. "I am sorry to bother you, but the mage from the Circle Tower asked me to find you right away. It appears that Teyrn Cousland has begun to stir, and he knew you would want to be informed immediately."
"Yes, of course, Perth," Teagan said quickly, rising from the ground and approaching the young man. As they left the clearing, Teagan looked back once more to the place where he and Zeva had loved one another, praying to the Maker to return her safely to his arms.
o~~~~~~~~o
Zeva pulled her sword from the cult leader's chest, using her foot as leverage. After a long and arduous fight through the worn caverns, they encountered a group of cultists who wished to speak to them, rather than attacking on sight. Their leader was obviously mad; declaring that Andraste had overcome death itself and had risen in a glorious new form, selecting him and his fellows as Her trusted protectors.
Realizing that she would never be able to reason with the man, Zeva had attacked; engaging the leader in battle while the rest of her party spread throughout the spacious cavern, drawing the remaining enemies away from her. Duncan was the first to defeat his foe and he rushed toward Zeva, flanking the enraged cultist; attracting his attention long enough for her to strike. When the leader looked back at Duncan, she slipped under his arms and thrust her sword into his chest, twisting the blade as she pushed it deeper.
The fight ended, and Zeva knelt next to the fallen soldier, searching him for usable items. Strapped to his side was an ancient looking horn, which she carefully removed and examined closely. Zevran stepped up to her, inspecting the item over her shoulder. "I have seen horns of this type," he said quietly, drawing her attention. "They are often used by lookouts in villages as warning signals. Given that we are dealing with a dragon cult, I think it would be safe to assume that should you choose to use that horn, we will be attracting the attention of a rather large visitor."
Chuckling softly, Zeva attached the horn to her armor. "I will make sure to give you ample notice, then, should I feel the overwhelming desire to blow into it," she said, looking around the cavern and locating the exit.
"You know you may always call on me, should you have overwhelming desires of any sort, my darling Zeva," Zevran countered, smiling deviously as he saw the flush which crept up Zeva's neck.
The group stepped through the open doorway at the far side of the enclosure, gazing around at the snow covered mountaintop. As they passed under a series of tall arches, a loud rumbling was heard in the sky and Duncan brought the party to an abrupt halt, motioning for them to take cover. No sooner had they hidden themselves than a dragon flew close by them, coming to rest on a nearby cliff; gazing lazily around the ground below it before lying down and closing its eyes. Zeva glanced down at the horn, and then back up to Zevran, who nodded slowly; indicating the creature with a tilt of his head. Ashes first, then dragon, Zeva mouthed to the elf, who smiled warmly at the glitter of excitement he saw in the Warden's eyes.
Moving cautiously forward, the party crossed beneath the enormous creature, entering the ornate stone temple carved into the mountainside.
"This place is different from the others we have seen since we arrived in Haven," Alistair commented, gazing around at the detailed stone carvings that surrounded them. Duncan nodded slowly, studying the long corridor for traps and possible ambush points.
Proceeding up a large staircase, the party turned a corner and saw a heavily armored soldier standing before a door at the far end of the hallway. Nihlus moved to the front of the party, remaining before Zeva and growling low in his throat. Since he had been reunited with her in Redcliffe, the Mabari had been extremely protective; and he had no intention of allowing yet another enemy to attack his mistress.
When at last they stopped before the stranger, he studied each companion carefully; his eyes finally settling on Zeva. Bowing slightly, he spoke in a low, soothing voice.
"I bid you welcome, pilgrim," he said cordially, his intent gaze fixed on the Warden.
"Who are you?" Zeva asked, raising her brow at the soldier quizzically.
"I am the Guardian," the soldier began, "the protector of the Urn of Sacred Ashes. I have waited years for this. You are the first to arrive in a very long time."
Pausing a moment, he resumed his explanation. "It has been my duty, my life, to prepare the way for the faithful who come to revere Andraste," he said. "For years beyond counting have I been here and I shall remain until my task is done and the Imperium has crumbled into the sea."
Zeva crossed her arms over her chest, staring intently at the Guardian. "My companions and I encountered several other 'protectors' of this temple, and they were under the belief that Andraste had been reborn as the dragon that lies outside," she began. "Would you care to explain to me who they are?"
"When my brethren and I carried Andraste from Tevinter to this sanctuary, we vowed to forever revere Her memory, and protect Her," he said sadly. "I have watched generations of my brethren take up the mantle of their fathers. For centuries they did this, unwavering, joyful in their appointed task."
His eyes fell to the floor, and Zeva could see the sadness there as he continued, "But now they have lost their way. They have forgotten Andraste and their promise." The party listened closely as the Guardian told them of the history of his Order and how everything had been altered when the faithful began to put their beliefs in the dragon.
When his tale was ended, Duncan moved forward, and the apparition's gaze fell upon him. "We need to see the Urn of Sacred Ashes, Guardian," he said simply. "There is a gravely ill man in need of Her miraculous curing powers."
"If you wish to honor Andraste, you shall, if you prove yourself worthy," the Guardian replied, nodding his head slowly.
"Curing a noble man – is that not worthy enough?" Zeva asked, stepping closer to him.
The Guardian shook his head. "Though your actions may be noble, you must still prove yourself worthy," he explained. "Regardless, it is not my place to decide your worthiness. The Gauntlet does that."
"Gauntlet?" Zeva asked, sighing heavily. "What does this Gauntlet entail?"
"You will be given four tests, each designed to discover the truth that lies within your soul," the apparition replied. "Should you pass them, you will be judged worthy to look upon the Urn and allowed to take a small pinch for yourself. Should you fail.."
Glaring at the Guardian, Zeva answered defiantly, "I have no intention of failing. Now, let's get this over with."
"Before you go," the Guardian said quietly, his gaze concentrated on Zeva, "there is something I must ask. I see that the path that led you here was not easy. There is suffering in your past - your suffering and the suffering of others."
Zeva felt herself stiffen as the Guardian's eyes bore into her. Duncan unconsciously moved closer to her, his hand inching involuntarily toward his sword. Seemingly oblivious to the anxious state of the party before him, the protector continued.
"When your home was attacked, you abandoned your family; your father, mother, and your brother's wife and son," he began, and Zeva felt her heart begin to race. "You left them in the hands of Rendon Howe, when you knew he would show no mercy. Do you feel as though you failed them?"
Zeva saw both Duncan and Zevran reach for their blades, and she lifted her hands, stilling the furious men. "I will answer your question, Guardian," she said slowly, her voice steady. "Yes, I do feel as though I failed my family by allowing Rendon Howe to do as he wished with them. However, it was necessary that I survive, as I have two critical tasks to complete. The first task is to find my brother and warn him that our family has been betrayed. The second, and this is the more important of the two, is to hunt down the lecherous monster that ruined my life and watch as the light slowly drains from his eyes when I impale him on my blades."
"Ahh," the Guardian responded, his eyes filled with understanding, "then you are obviously not one to dwell on your past mistakes, or the mistakes of those close to you. I see that your enemies, however, have much to fear from you."
"What of those you travel with, however?" he said, glancing around at her companions; his eyes settling on Duncan. "Warden Commander, you were tasked with protecting Fereldan's King; yet he died while next to you in battle. Do you not feel as though you could have done more to save him?"
Never dropping his gaze, Duncan nodded slowly at the Guardian. "Yes, I do feel guilt when I think of Cailan's death," he said quietly. "Though I was not the one who betrayed him. Loghain Mac Tir murdered the king; and when I finally come face to face with the coward, he will regret his decision."
"You wish to avenge a friend? An honorable goal," the specter commented. "Be careful that such goals do not lose their true meaning."
Next, the specter turned his attention to Zevran. "And the Antivan elf?" he asked pointedly.
"Oh, I am to be next?" Zevran replied, masking the increase in his heartbeat as he thought of what the Guardian may reveal in front of Zeva. "Hurrah! I am so excited."
Ignoring the sarcastic comment, the Guardian continued, his tone unchanging. "Many have died by your hand," he began. "But is there any you regret more than a woman by the name of…"
"Enough!" Zeva yelled, drawing her dagger and thrusting it against the Guardian's throat. Her companions looked on in shock as she uttered her next words in dangerous, chilling tones. "You may ask all the questions you wish of me, but I will not allow you to interrogate those who travel with me any further. You WILL NOT use your knowledge to dredge up memories that will cause them pain! Have I made myself clear?"
Maintaining his calm composure, the Guardian nodded slowly, and Zeva moved away, shaking with fury. "You are quite protective of those you travel with, Warden," he said quietly. "I can sense your loyalty to them, and it gladdens me to see it. I will honor your demand and cease my questioning. You are free to proceed, and I hope you find what you seek." Stepping aside, he motioned toward the door behind him before vanishing from their sight.
"Zeva," Duncan began, stepping toward her and pulling her into his arms, "are you alright? I never wanted you to have to answer questions about the events at Highever."
"Yes, Duncan, I'm fine," she said, though her hands still shook visibly. "We should move on. We are so close to the Ashes and we cannot afford any more delays."
"Zeva…" Zevran began and the Warden turned to him, shaking her head slowly.
"He had no right, Zev," she said quietly, staring intently at the assassin. "No one does." Smiling warmly at her elven companion, she turned and headed through the door, Duncan and Alistair close behind her. As Zevran watched her walk away, Morrigan stepped next to him, a small smirk on her face.
"I know not what she sees in you, assassin," she said quietly, "any more than I understand her infatuation with the idiot Warden Commander. Neither of you are worthy of her. However, her obvious devotion to you should prove entertaining; as I have no doubt it will cause Duncan no small amount of distress. Now let us be off; someone must protect her, and the two who now accompany her are completely useless."
In the first test of the Gauntlet, the companions were met by a group of apparitions, all of whom were an integral part of Andraste's life, for good or ill. After successfully answering each phantom's riddle, a large stone door at the far end of the room opened and they approached it slowly, weapons drawn.
Zeva was the first through, and she hadn't proceeded far when she stopped abruptly, her body beginning to tremble once again and her mouth falling open. Her legs gave out and, as Duncan caught her in his arms, he looked ahead and saw the source of her astonishment.
"Papa," she whispered in disbelief, as the party gazed upon the form of Bryce Cousland, shimmering before them in the entranceway…
o~~~~~~~~o
Teagan opened the door to Fergus' room, quietly stepping inside. Kinnon, the young human mage tasked with the care of both the Teyrn and Eamon, turned at the sound of his entrance.
"Ah, Bann Teagan," Kinnon said, rising from his chair and hurrying to greet him. "I am so glad that Ser Perth was able to locate you. Teyrn Cousland began stirring a while ago and I think he will awaken any time now."
As if on cue, a low moan issued forth from the sleeping patient, and his eyes slowly fluttered open. Teagan rushed to his side and placed a calming hand on his friend's arm.
"Shhh, Fergus," he said soothingly. "It's Teagan. You are in Redcliffe and you are safe. Your injuries are still quite severe and you need to stay calm."
Fergus glanced slowly around the room, attempting to focus his eyes. At last, they came to rest on Teagan's worried face. "Teagan?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "Is it really you?"
"Yes, my friend," Teagan replied, smiling kindly at him, "it is really me. You were brought to Redcliffe Castle several days ago. A group of Eamon's knights found you unconscious outside the village and carried you here. Do you remember how you came to be there?"
Fergus was silent for several minutes, pondering Teagan's question. "I truly have no idea," he confessed, shaking his head. "The last thing I remember was travelling through the Wilds at Ostagar, patrolling the area for darkspawn. My party was attacked, and several of my men fell in the battle. I was attempting to pull an injured soldier to safety; when suddenly, I felt something slam into my back. Then…nothing."
"Well, you don't need to recall it all now," Teagan replied. "What you need to do is rest. I will leave you in Kinnon's capable hands, and return with your dinner later today. We can talk more then." He squeezed Fergus' arm lightly and turned to leave, gesturing for the mage to accompany him into the hallway.
Once outside the door, Teagan spoke to Kinnon, keeping his voice low. "Does it seem natural to you that his memory is so badly damaged?" he asked, concern evident in his gaze.
"That is nothing to worry about, Ser," Kinnon replied. "Teryn Cousland has obviously been through an horrific ordeal, should his injuries be a correct indication. He may well be blocking out what happened. The mind often does that in order to allow a patient to heal without incident."
"Thank you so much for the care you have shown both Fergus and my brother, Kinnon," Teagan said. "We are blessed that Senior Enchanter Irving left you here with us."
Blushing slightly, the mage shook his head. "You are most welcome, Bann Teagan," he began, "but no thanks are necessary. Warden Zeva saved our entire Circle. I owe her my life and I am happy to help in any way I can."
At the mention of Zeva's name, Teagan felt a sense of dread fall over him. Fergus was still blissfully unaware of all that had befallen his family. Once the truth came out, he wondered how his friend would ever truly recover.
o~~~~~~~~o
Pulling herself from Duncan's arms, Zeva walked slowly toward the spectral image of her father, her arms hanging limply at her sides.
"Papa," she repeated, her voice breaking as the tears began to slowly roll down her cheeks. "I have missed you so much. I prayed that I would see you again, but how is it that you are here?"
Bryce Cousland smiled softly at his daughter, his gaze filled with love. "Zeva, my darling, you know that I am gone," he began, his familiar voice bringing more tears to her eyes. "All of your prayers and wishes will not bring me back. Pup, I know you miss me; but my death, and my life, no longer have a hold on you. This is how it should be."
"It's all my fault!" Zeva cried. "Rendon Howe killed you all because I wasn't strong enough to stop him! If he hadn't wanted me…."
Duncan started to move forward and Alistair grabbed his arm, holding him back. "This is her test, Duncan," he whispered angrily, "and you need to stay out of it. She doesn't need your help." The Warden Commander's eyes widened in shock as he turned, seeing the stern look of determination on Alistair's face. Realizing the truth in his words, Duncan nodded slowly, his heart breaking as he witnessed his beloved's agony.
"No, Zeva," Bryce said, concern in his eyes, "nothing that happened to our family was your fault. Rendon Howe's depravity started long before that fateful night. He has always been a perverse, greedy man and I should have recognized the signs of his deceit and protected you.
Regardless, none of this matters now, Pup," he continued. "Set your sights on the horizon; do not falter and do not look back. You have a long road ahead of you, and you must be prepared."
"I understand," Zeva said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "I am a Cousland, and I will do my duty. I only wish you were here with me."
Smiling warmly, Bryce extended his arm toward her, palm up. "I know, darling," he said softly, "and I wish I was with you, as well. However, I would never leave you without aid. Take this amulet. I leave it in your capable hands. I know you will do great things with it."
Zeva reached out slowly and closed her hand around the necklace. She examined it carefully, seeing her father's reflection appear inside of it. "Thank you, Father," she said, smiling softly. "I will make you proud of me."
"I have always been proud of you, my youngest," he replied, his spectral form beginning to fade away. "You must find Fergus. You will need each other in the days ahead."
"Fergus?" Zeva exclaimed. "He is alive? Where is he, Father?"
"I love you, Pup," Bryce said, his voice weakening. "Take care of each other….."
"Wait! Where is Fergus?" Zeva asked, her voice rising desperately. "Don't go!" She reached toward her Father, only to have him vanish beneath her fingertips. Crying out in despair, she dropped to the ground, sobbing into her hands. Duncan rushed forward, kneeling beside her and pulling her into his arms; rocking her gently.
As the Warden's cries subsided, Morrigan stepped forward; placing a hand on her shoulder. "'Tis time to go, Zeva," she said, with a softness in her voice that shocked all of the companions. "We still have challenges ahead of us, and I doubt your father would wish you to give up so close to your goal."
Zeva raised her head from Duncan's chest, and smiled at the witch through her tears. "You are right, as always, Morrigan," she replied quietly. "I am sorry to have made such a scene."
"Bah!" Morrigan exclaimed, "I'll not hear an apology from you; not this time. Now, let us finish this task so that we may leave this dank tomb. I think I am catching a chill." Though she tried to hide it, Zeva could see the blush that colored the apostate's cheeks as she turned away.
Duncan rose from the floor, pulling Zeva up with him and holding her close. "Are you sure you are alright, love?" he asked, brushing the hair back from her eyes.
"Yes, Duncan," she replied, leaning forward to kiss him softly. "I will be fine. I must agree with Morrigan, however. I find myself quite anxious to be far from this temple."
"Then let us not tarry," he said, releasing her and leading the party into the next room, weapons at the ready.
The next tests the companions faced were grueling, both mentally and physically. The first pitted them against ethereal duplicates of themselves. It was no surprise to Zeva that Duncan and Zevran chose to engage each other's phantoms; both men smiling in triumph as their opponents fell.
The room beyond the battle housed a deep chasm, encircled by stone blocks. When a block was stepped upon, a nearly invisible bridge appeared across the center of the crater. The party quickly deduced that the only way past this particular trap was to have one member venture out onto the bridge while the others moved around it, stepping on various stones in an effort to solidify the walkway. After several minutes of heated debate, Zeva took the lead; stepping cautiously over the abyss one section at a time.
Silence filled the room as one-by-one, the individual party members changed their positions. When at last Zeva reached the far side of the room, the bridge became visible and the remaining members crossed quickly; Duncan swearing loudly that he would never allow her to do anything so foolish again.
"One test left," Zeva said, ignoring Duncan as she moved through the final doorway. The room before her was immense. At it's far end she could clearly see the Urn of Sacred Ashes, seated on a pedestal at the top of a sprawling staircase.
Her path was blocked, however, by a brilliant line of fire that ran the width of the hall. A rough stone altar stood directly before her, simple carvings on its face. Zeva approached it and bent down, reading the inscription aloud for her companions:
"Cast off the trappings of worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit.
King and slave, lord and beggar; be born anew in the Maker's sight"
"Well, this seems simple enough," Zeva said and removed her daggers from her back, placing them on the ground at her feet. She removed her boots next, and then reached for the clasps which held the top of her Dalish armor in place.
"Zeva!" Duncan exclaimed loudly. "What in the Maker's name are you doing?"
Turning, she stared incredulously at the Warden Commander. "I am removing my armor, Duncan," she said simply, "and I suggest you do the same; should you wish to approach the Ashes."
Duncan moved quickly to her side, placing his hand over her own. "Are you sure this is the answer to the riddle, Zeva?" he asked quietly. "I would hate to see you disrobe if it isn't necessary."
"I am quite certain she is correct, Warden Commander," Zevran interjected, and Duncan looked over his shoulder at the elf, who was smiling suggestively at Zeva. "Now, if you don't mind, you are blocking my view."
"You filthy bast…" Duncan began, lunging at the assassin. He was stopped by Zeva, who grasped his arm tightly, pulling him back to her side.
"Now is not the time for this!" she cried, staring angrily at both men. "We are here for the Ashes, and I have no doubt that my interpretation of the riddle is correct. Remove your clothes, both of you, before I completely lose my temper!"
"My darling Zeva," Zevran drawled as he began discarding his leathers, "there is no need to shout. You know you need only ask if you wish to part me from my smallclothes."
Duncan opened his mouth to speak, but stopped at the look of shock on Alistair's face; his gaze focused over his mentor's shoulder. Turning toward the altar, he saw the last of Zeva's armor fall to the ground, her toned body glowing in the firelight. Fighting the rush of desire that threatened to overwhelm him, he quickly undressed; moving behind Zeva to cover her with his body.
"Ready?" Zeva asked her companions cautiously, stepping closer to the fire.
"For you, always," Zevran purred, ignoring Duncan's murderous glares as he moved to stand alongside the Wardens.
Taking a deep breath, Zeva stepped into the fire; glancing around in awe as the flames danced about her, never touching her skin. As she exited on the other side, she heard the deep voice of the Guardian and turned to see him standing behind her.
"You have been through the trials of the Gauntlet. You have walked the path of Andraste, and like Her, you have been cleansed," he declared. "You have proven yourself worthy. Approach the Sacred Ashes." As quickly as he appeared, he was gone; taking the fire with him.
Zeva returned to her belongings, pulling a small pouch from her bag. She approached the Urn reverently, lifting the lid and taking a small pinch of the Ashes, placing them into the container and closing it tightly. Turning away from the pedestal, she met Zevran's eyes; desire blazed in the amber orbs as he regarded her naked form. Flushing deeply, she brushed past him; retrieving her armor and quickly dressing.
The companions gathered their possessions, and proceeded from the chamber; beginning the long walk back to the temple entrance. Duncan remained next to his beloved, his thoughts in turmoil. He had witnessed the glance that passed between Zevran and Zeva, and he couldn't help but wonder if theirs was a deeper bond than he could ever hope to sever.