Rinna

CONTENT:
Rating: Mature
Flavor: Adventure/Drama
Language: yes
Violence: mentioned
Nudity: no
Sex: discussed
Other: none

Author's Notes:

i'm sure you know this one... (no, i STILL don't know how the dip i'm spelling tally-sin's name!)

Rinna

==#==

The estate was in a flurry of activity, like their arrival, but in reverse, as servants rushed around packing things to leave. Zevran used the opportunity to hone his thieving skills in the wine cellar.

Then he needed a quiet place to think, yet every hall and room was packed with people - servants, soldiers, Grey Wardens. Aha, another thief (and assassin) skill that would come in handy: roof running. There was a shed adjacent to the kitchen wall, and the kitchen roof was below the second storey rooms. He found a comfortable confluence of roofs that abutted a wall together, and leaned back in the corner.

He took a deep breath of the warm evening air, and raised the bottle in a toast. A toast to freedom, to winning! You idiot. He bit down on the cork and yanked it free, spit it out and drank deeply.

The Crows had sent Taleisin, their best hope of tracking Zevran. With him dead, and no survivors to report back, Farkus might have decided to believe Zevran had perished as well, both done in by the other, and good riddance. It was a faint hope, but with no leads, what could the Crow Master do?

But. Zevran grimaced. This wine was a heavy-bodied vintage not to his taste. He'd gone to the Landsmeet, and stood up in front of everyone, telling them his name, his profession. Zevran Arainai, Antivan Crow! And then the very public duel with Logahin. Sure, Ferelden was a little backwater country, but stories of the spectacle of the Landsmeet would surely trickle out and spread.

Or, maybe the whole country would be wiped out by the Blight before that could happen. That would include Zevran, him being so close to the Grey Wardens, the epicenter of the battle with the horde.

Zevran rubbed his face. Farkus would most likely wait to see if the Blight finished the job. No sense wasting time and effort. Yes, Zevran only had to lay low after this infernal battle. Pretend to have died in it. Change his name, dye his hair, make up a story about the valiant but doomed Crow who perished fighting the darkspawn.

Would that be freedom? At last? He thought he'd been free before. When he failed to kill the Wardens. But no. He'd sworn his life, his service to them. That was just exchanging one master for another. Not that he'd minded, much. Besides, it had brought him to Bannon, a long-fought and hard-won conquest.

And more.

Zevran's belly ached, as if he'd eaten too much candy. He could see the dark-haired elf in his mind, his sleek, muscled body. And that ring, glinting so tantalizingly. He put a hand over his face, trying to deny the strong feelings that threatened to overwhelm him.

"Zevran?" Like a wraith summoned by thinking about it too hard, Bannon's voice drifted quietly over the roofs.

"Here, amore."

Bannon picked his way to the assassin's perch. "Is everything all right?"

"Si. Come sit. We should talk."

The thief nimbly clambered down to sit beside him. "What is it you want to talk about?"

"I want to thank you again, for freeing me from the Crows."

"Well... I had a little help." The Denerim elf eyed him.

"That's... not what I meant." Zevran rubbed his face again.

Then he felt his lover's hand on his shoulder. "Were you close?"

Trust Bannon to understand the unspoken heart of the matter. Zevran bit his lip. "Yes," he admitted quickly. He did not elaborate, and Bannon didn't ask. Zevran could feel the hesitation in his hand, however.

"I'm sorry," the thief said.

"There were three of us, in our cell. 'Friendships' were discouraged, of course, real ones. It was easier for the Masters to control us if they could turn us on one another."

Bannon folded his hands in his lap, listening intently.

"There was a woman, an elven woman. Her name was-" His voice suddenly went hoarse. He made an effort to speak the name that hadn't passed his lips since that night. "Rinna. Her name was Rinna."

Like one of those wraiths, summoned by her name, she appeared before his mind's eye. Laughing, loving... lethal. These glimpses were fleeting, always overpowered by how he had last seen her.

"Rinna, Taleisin, and I did many missions together. We worked well together. We became lovers." He paused at the Denerim elf's small vocalization of confusion. "Pairing as we wished, sometimes all three of us." He shrugged. "You follow your desires. They mean... nothing.

"Except..." Zevran closed his eyes. "You know how it is. Two elves, fighting together, rutting together, bonded by bloodlust. I..." He grimaced. "We did the forbidden. We... we fell... we were in love," he blurted, like pulling a knife from a wound.

Bannon held his silence, allowing Zevran space to breathe.

"We were young and stupid," Zevran scoffed. He drank from the bottle. "We didn't want to deny it, though we hid it. Or tried to."

"What about Taleisin?"

"We still hunted with him. Tumbled him, occasionally." He shrugged one shoulder. "He was our partner. He wouldn't betray us. None of us would betray the others - or so we thought.

"Then, one mission, we failed. Our target was not where we expected. Do you know what it means to fail, in the Crows?" He shot a look at Bannon. The other elf nodded. "I talk about it enough, eh?" he said flippantly. "Punishment our only payment. Disgrace in the eyes of our cell. No respect. Heh."

He waved the bottle. "Then, a few days later, Taleisin came to me. The team who had finished our job had also brought back several of the mark's important papers. Among them, a note from a traitor, warning him of the time and place of our planned ambush. And another, instructions for a courier to take payment to a particular elven woman of the Crows."

Zevran raised the bottle to his lips, but pulled it back as the words tumbled out. "I was so enraged! The woman I loved - that I had dared to love - betrayed me! Betrayed us! We could have been killed!

"Master Farkus tasked me and Taleisin to eliminate her. We found her outside our favorite tavern, cornered her. Of course, she denied everything! The perfect liar! Taleisin seized her, forced her to her knees. She pleaded with me, her eyes, so-" He put a hand over his own eyes, trying not to see. "I... we killed her, there, in the alley. Dead, bloodied, food for the crows. We spit on her corpse!" The images flooded back, overwhelmed him, choked him.

==#==

Bannon's mouth hung slack. Zevran had been in love... and forced to kill his lover. How could anyone come back from that? "Zevran..." He gripped the assassin's shoulder again. "I'm so sorry."

Zevran shuddered at the contact. He struggled with himself, but couldn't seem to stop the tears. He turned towards Bannon, to hide his face. The thief tugged him closer, to hold him.

Angrily, Zevran shoved him away. "Do not comfort me," he hissed. "I hate that!" He swiped at the wetness on his cheeks.

Bannon didn't know what to say, what to do. He wanted to do whatever it was that Zevran needed right now, but he was lost. He tried to express his compassion with his eyes.

"And do not pity me!" the assassin snarled. "I will gut you!"

Bannon turned away. "I don't know what to say, Zev. I can only imagine the pain you feel."

"I never expected to have love - ever." The Antivan's voice hitched. "When I lost it... I figured that had to be it. Life was... well, it was meaningless and empty, but right."

"That is not right," Bannon insisted.

"But it is what I expected. Then I expected to die, but, heh." He waved the bottle in a drunken salute. "You are full of surprises, amore."

"You keep calling me that, instead of 'patrone.'"

Zevran frowned sourly. "Is just a word. Like 'friend.'"

"But it doesn't mean 'friend,'" Bannon probed.

"It doesn't matter." Zevran tucked one knee up and wrapped his arms around, his chin resting atop. He stared at the bottle, but didn't move to drink any more wine.

Bannon looked at his hands in his lap. Hands that were restless to reach out, to hold, to comfort. To catch the elusive elf before he slipped away. "I want to spend time with you," he said. "I want to spend my life with you. I don't care if the Crows hunt us to the end of Thedas. It's worth it."

Zevran frowned. "You say that."

"I mean it."

"But this is your first time - a relationship notorious for not lasting long. And what of your obligations to the Grey Wardens?"

"After the Blight, I'll be free of them."

"I will never be free of the Crows."

"They sent their best. And their second best. From here, it can only get easier."

This prompted a dry laugh from the assassin. "I don't know where you get your ego."

"I think it 'Antivan rubbed' off on me." Bannon reached out and gripped the bottle, forcing Zevran to meet his eyes. "You can't live your life in fear. If you reject love out of fear, then... what are you left with?"

==#==

Zevran looked away. "I've killed the only woman I ever loved, and the only man I ever trusted. Love... is not for me. Not for whores and assassins."

Silence lay thick between the two elves. Zevran began to regret pushing Bannon away, now wishing the thief would say something. Anything to keep from facing his own fears, his own emotions. They threatened to overwhelm him, make him weak, destroy him.

No, he wouldn't let that happen. He would let it destroy only his traitorous heart. Once that was choked and cold in death, then he would feel no more. He felt it struggle, but would not help.

Then he felt Bannon's hand grip his own. He tried to pull away again, but the thief clasped firm.

"Zevran, you said it yourself. You are free."

"But-"

"You are not a whore, you are not an assassin."

"I don't know what I am, if I am not these things."

"You are Zevran. You are sexy, you are deadly, you are free to choose what you do - who you kill, who you bed... who you love." Bannon lifted their joined hands to his chest. "And I hope... you choose me."

"I'm... afraid."

"I can't give up on you."

For a moment, Zevran wanted to. To go and lose himself in the sex, to just do it. Make Bannon happy, give him what he wanted. Slip away in the cold dark of the night, like it didn't matter.

He looked up into those deep, dark, chocolate eyes. But he couldn't. He wasn't a whore. He looked away. "I can't. Not... not tonight." He tugged his hand free, for a moment, afraid that Bannon would refuse to release him, try to keep him trapped, to argue, to cajole, demand. But no. He was clearly reluctant, but the thief let him go.

"Do you need me to say it?" the thief asked.

"No," he answered quickly. "Don't. I... I need time. I need... some space."

Bannon eased back. "I understand. But don't stay out here drinking. It would be hideously embarrassing for you to get drunk and clumsily fall off the roof."

"You're right." Zevran handed him the bottle.

==#==

The thief took it gingerly. He didn't see the cork around anywhere, so he guessed he was going to carry it in a test of his balancing skills. When he stood, Zevran made no move to follow. It was time to leave him alone, as he requested.

Mind in turmoil, Bannon left.

Killing his only love, Bannon still couldn't imagine it. Could he kill Zevran? No. He couldn't conceive of it. But could he become angry enough? Jealous?

Zevran also didn't seem to realize... the story of Rinna's betrayal coming from Taleisin, was entirely suspect, the evidence too pat. It was possible Rinna's betrayal was a complete fabrication of a jealous partner - Taleisin.

He wanted to reassure Zevran that his lover had been true, hadn't turned on him for money. But that would mean he'd killed her for nothing. That he'd been the betrayer. Bannon couldn't bring himself to voice his suspicions of what really had happened. There was no way to know, now.

Both Zevran's former lovers were dead. By Zevran's hand, or near enough. Bannon shook his head. No wonder the assassin feared love. Bannon wasn't afraid. But how to make Zevran take the leap? Would it even be possible? He couldn't imagine how.

He would just have to give Zevran time, give him the space to leave. He didn't want that, but he recognized how important it was for the assassin to not feel trapped, pressured. Forced.

Now was not the time for love. There was a war coming.

==X==