It was, perhaps, too much to hope for that they'd make it to the Brecillian forest without incident. After all, she'd already doubled back to kill the Witch of the Wilds. What, after that, was one more distraction?
"I could do without the continued assassination attempts." Chantal murmured more to herself than anyone else. She'd forgotten Alistair stood beside her until he laughed.
"Right." Alistair grinned from ear to ear and gestured to Zevran's figure crouched over one of the mercenaries that fell, quite quickly, to their ferocious group. "Unlike the last one, these aren't quite your type."
She couldn't help it, she blushed cherry red to the roots of her hair and stared up at Alistair with as stern a face as she could manage. Alistair's grin twitched, then he doubled over, clutching his stomach and laughing while covered in blood and gore.
"I'll tell you what." Alistair wiped tears from his eyes. "We'll send a polite note to Loghain, tell him to send prettier ones next time."
Despite her immediate desire to do so, she couldn't electrocute him because they were the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden. That whole 'end the blight' thing meant that murdering each other was out of the question. That didn't mean she couldn't hit him, so she clutched her staff and put a fair amount of force into the swing. He blocked it with his arm, but she saw him wince.
"Children!" Wynne admonished severely from where she knelt next to Oghren, who nursed a rather nasty lump on his skull.
"I suggest aiming for his head, tis hollow after all." Morrigan drawled, amused.
"Smashed like a melon, I suspect." Shale's eyes flashed with, Chantal hoped, was laughter instead of murderous rage.
"As much as I support only asking for attractive assassins, my beautiful warden, I am afraid these men were not purchased by Loghain." Zevran held up a bloodstained piece of parchment. "Why do you suppose all these second-rate plotters feel as if they need to carry written instructions? They do not even bother with code! It's deplorable."
Only Zevran would find a way to criticize the techniques of the people attempting to murder them. Still, she smiled and shook her head. "Well, who is it this time?"
"I confess, this name does not ring a bell." Zevran made a great show of squinting at the note theatrically. "Have we angered a woman named Marjolaine?"
That name didn't ring a bell with her either and she began to shrug, but the shocked little intake of breath was unmistakable from her left. They all turned to the sound, eyes latching onto Leliana's form, her bow dangling from her fingertips and her expression unreadable.
"Perhaps… perhaps there is something I should confess." Leliana began softly.
xx
"Alright, so…" Chantal paced back and forth around the fire pit in their makeshift camp, just down the road from the site of the ambush and subsequent massacre. Zevran watched her with growing amusement. Chantal had been under so much strain, and had taken it all so well and with so little complaint, that she'd been bound to snap eventually. He wished it had been when Morrigan asked her to slay her mother, the one who turned into a dragon, but he supposed this would do if she was about to chastise them all.
"I need to get this straight." Chantal whirled on their assembled company, raised her hand, and began ticking off her fingers. "Alistair is a secret prince, Leliana is a wanted spy with a list of enemies a mile long, Shale used to be a dwarf, Oghren's wife was crazy…"
"Heh." Oghren rumbled sleepily. "But a wyvern between the sheets, let me tell…"
"Morrigan's mother was a dragon who ate her daughters…" Chantal continued over Oghren's scandalous recounting before he could even get started. "Sten murdered an entire family, Zevran is a famous assassin, and Wynne is an abomination."
"Vashedan." Sten grumbled, looking up from where he sharpened his sword. "You knew who and what I was when you asked me to accompany you, Kadan."
"Little witch…" Zevran interjected, turning on his most charming smile. "I was very up front about my skills and past, no?"
"Sten and Zevran are excused." Chantal declared imperiously. The dog at Alistair's feet whined and she quickly amended her statement. "As is Trout."
"Well, of course the painted elf is excused." Shale declared flatly. "It smashes naughty bits with the Warden frequently."
Chantal dignified that statement with nothing more than a scorching glare. Zevran swore even the great pile of rocks folded in on itself, just a bit.
"So if anyone else has anything they'd like to tell me, may I suggest now is the time to do it." Chantal folded her arms over her chest and stared down her companions. For the most part, they all dropped their eyes to the ground under their feet. Only Sten continued to slowly sharpen his beloved sword. Zevran winked at Chantal, but she ignored him.
"Well…" Alistair began, looking up from the grass. "If we're going back to Denerim regardless to deal with Leliana's… small problem, then maybe… maybe we can take a couple hours and try to find my long-lost sister?"
Wynne sighed and brought her hand up to her face, shaking her head slightly. Chantal simply gawked at Alistair in disbelief.
"You're unbelievable." She stated, rounding on her heel and stalking off to her tent. Trout leaped to his paws and trotted off after her, panting happily.
What Zevran didn't expect to happen next, honestly, was for each set of eyes to swing to him. He fought the urge to step back himself. "Yes?"
"The poor thing has the whole world on her shoulders." Wynne frowned sympathetically. "Perhaps you should offer a listening shoulder."
"Or anything that will make her less angry at me." Leliana pleaded, eyes wide and frightened.
'Oh, so now you wish Zevran to go make it better?" He adopted his own look of mock disapproval mixed with a falsely scandalized tone.
"You could stay here instead. Perhaps we can see how roast crow tastes, yes?" Morrigan threatened.
Well, he'd prefer to be with his Warden anyway.
xx
When the tent flap opened, Chantal fought the urge to scream, mostly because she thought if she started, she wouldn't stop until the whole camp burned down around her ears. Her shoulders relaxed as she heard Zevran's warm, considering hum in his throat.
"Our comrades have sent me to talk you out of skinning them alive." Chantal didn't look over her shoulder, continuing to sort through the potions in her pack. Zevran settled behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She felt his warm lips dancing over her neck, his whisper sending little pulses of heat to her core. "I, however, find nothing more enticing than the thought of you battling them all single-handedly and emerging, gloriously victorious. I would throw myself at your feet and beg to be allowed to serve your whims."
"I'm not going to skin them alive." Chantal sighed and tipped her head back onto Zevran's shoulder, frowning into his handsome, proud face. "I just… I didn't sign up for this."
"Leading a nation into battle against a formidable enemy while solving the life problems of your dear companions?" Zevran chuckled and kissed the wrinkle on her forehead while tightening his grip on her middle.
Chantal closed her eyes, blocking out the linen walls of their tent, the flickering flames of the fire throwing their shadows on the fabric. She swallowed, hard, all the things threatening to bubble up. All the panic and dread. "Lie down." Zevran directed gently. "And allow me."
She shouldn't. She needed to check her potions and draughts, she needed to check that the others divided up watch fairly, she needed to ensure Morrigan ate something instead of working through the night, that Wynne's tent was close enough to the fire, and that the new sharpening stone she found for Sten actually worked.
But Zevran made it easy, her shirt slipped above her head and his hands making quick work of the bandeau hiding her breasts. Then she was on her bedroll, face pillowed in her arms, his lips kissing down the back of her neck as his hands began to dance up and over her skin. As he traced over her upper back he tsk'd, applying firm pressure to the muscles beneath her skin.
"Have I told you about the docks in Antiva city?" His palms moved hard against her skin, but somehow also gentle, his voice dropped to a soothing, low rumble. He worked in tight circles as he spoke, easing knots in muscles she had hardly even realized were tight. "At night, the city spills out to the docks. There are cafes, galleries full of beautiful objects, and the finest shops selling silks nearly as soft as your skin, my warden. There are lanterns lit along the water, illuminating the fine ladies and their rich gentlemen…"
"Sounds like an excellent opportunity for pickpocketing." She mumbled her words, but found herself trailing into a moan as his hands worked their magic. Zevran chuckled, straddling her hips and nosing her ear affectionately.
"You are a quick study, Chantal. I always admire that about you, si?"
She flushed in pleasure beneath him, his praise curling in her belly like the wine Leliana talked her into trying in Redcliffe. Then she moaned again as he found another knot in her shoulder and attacked it with gusto.
"I still remember it fondly. The smell of the ocean, the glimmer of torch light on the gold jewelry, the scent of fine wine, the sparkling conversation…"
He painted a vivid picture and she could see all of it. She could hear the merchants hawking their wares, could taste the heady wine he spoke of, feel the silk dresses of the ladies. She was so lost in his story, that she barely realized he'd stopped working on her back, his fingers brushing lightly up and down her spine as he mesmerized her with his voice.
"When we're done…" If they survived, Chantal corrected herself internally, stretching under his touch. "I'd like to see it. Maybe you could take me?"
She turned to look over her shoulder just in time to see Zevran's expression freeze. It was only a second, perhaps even less than that, but for a moment… for a moment…
He looked frightened, despairing. And Chantal's heart dropped.
He recovered almost immediately, but she had seen. She saw how distressed the thought of what came next made him, and she felt herself shrink back even as Zevran smiled charmingly.
"Ah, my sweet little bird…" He crooned, moving his practiced fingers to her trousers and beginning to slide them down her slim hips. "The wonders of Antiva City are magnificent, true, but nothing compared to the delights in front of me."
This was how it was. He was her friend, he offered her endless nights of pleasure, he helped her forget her burden for a moment, but if there was a future after the blight, Zevran would be a free man. No longer bound to her.
She swallowed the burn in the back of her throat and turned with a smile of her own, determined to enjoy this while she had him. If he was hers for only now… then she would appreciate every second of it.
Blight be damned.
xx
When Zevran fell asleep, she dressed again and emerged from her tent. Trout, laying just beside the entrance, woofed at her lightly while she slipped into the night. She felt stronger and more stable, Zev always made her feel like she could bear the weight on her shoulders, but she also felt unsettled. She felt as if she couldn't quite risk breathing in too deeply.
It would pass. It would certainly pass.
Leliana stood watch beside Shale. Chantal watched her friend turn at her approach and she wanted to tell Leli, wanted to spill out that she wanted Zevran to stay, or take her with him, as long as they stayed together she didn't care. She wanted to confess that she felt more than she'd meant to, and perhaps she was silly and naive to think someone like Zev truly wanted her, but she had. She had believe it. She wanted to believe it.
She wanted to ask Leli what to do about the look on Zev's face. What to do with the tightness in her lungs.
Instead, Chantal crossed her arms across her chest against the chill of the night and nodded in determination. "Tell me how we can find Marjolaine.