A/N: Sorry for the delay. I hope everyone enjoyed their holidays though. =)
Thank you Oberon Axelus, Leesey85, and Kirabaros for all the alerts, favs, and reviews! As always, thank you Brelaina for being my awsome beta reader.
CH. 18 Regret
Along the forest's edge, Zevran trailed the road leading to the village Violet indicated she would be at. Usually his saunter was light and haughty, but that day it slowed to a heavy trudge. He knew he had to hurry or otherwise risk missing the party and go through the tedious task of hunting them down again; yet, he hesitated.
Why go back at all? Though he made an oath of service to Violet, she kept dismissing it as such and insisted to treat him as a companion – not a servant. He just couldn't shake the thought from his mind, though. Wasn't he just another soldier recruited for the fray? Perhaps she felt having a protective friend was safer than having a captive enemy?
Zevran pulled and fidgeted with the backpack strap he hung on one shoulder. A new tent and a clean blanket were rolled snuggly inside. A few simple silver and gold necklaces softly bounced in a pouch of a neighboring pocket. Those were all gifts from her. Though for various reasons, they were gifts none-the-less. She didn't have to buy him a tent. She could have just as easily forced him to sleep on the cold hard ground without camping supplies at all; and the necklaces held no necessary value, but he did treasure them.
Was it all a ruse? She always left him in awe and silent surprise. Though he slowly grew to expect her hospitality, he still believed it was misplaced. She shouldn't trust a man like him, nor did he feel he deserved it.
The Crows clearly revealed that was the case: he was nothing and the world wouldn't miss his absence. Violet might, but he had no doubt that would eventually pass.
Zevran stopped and looked pensively into the brightening sky. The sun's rays were now peeking through the nearby mountain tops.
"Perhaps it is time to move on?" he asked out loud. "Surely, the Maker has not forgiven me already."
"Here are the instructions, though I'm sure you don't even need it," Violet smiled and placed a small piece of paper into his palm. "You found me once, after all."
Zevran closed his hand and leaned forward with a charming smile. "My Dear Warden, I will always find you."
"I better stay on your good side then," Violet teased and sat with her legs under her.
"You saved my life, Warden," he said calmly and reached for her hand. As he brought it to his lips, he said, "you have no reason to fear," and kissed it gently.
Violet took a measured breath and pulled her hand away uncomfortably. "Okay, that's good," she said and looked away shyly.
Zevran's smile remained and his eyes were ever-watchful. He noticed that the more advances he made toward her, the harder it was for her to keep a straight face. Her shyness was endearing and he found himself yearning for those cheeks to blush. Delicate, yet deadly – like poison; the more precise the craft and more rare the ingredients, the more potent it becomes.
Delicate. Deadly. Poisonous… love. It was too familiar.
It was too soon.
A sharp pain pierced his chest and for a second – just a second – he frowned.
He had to move on.
"Right; I believe I have everything I need for the journey," he said, straightening his posture. "You can count on me. Jowan will be a free man and I will be back before you know it."
Violet looked at him sternly and pointed a threatening finger. "Remember, no killing and don't say a word. Just give him the letter and leave. He'll understand what it says."
With a small bow he said, "as you wish, my dear."
Her lips curled and eyes softened. The hand that threatened him reached out to embrace him instead. She gave a small squeeze and whispered, "thank you, Zevran."
A woman's touch was not a new experience. Everyone knew that. Yet, he seldom had genuine experiences – ones that made his heart flutter and mind hazy.
It was happening again. Only one other person made him feel that way, but why now? Why her?
Was it more than just playful flirting? Or was he just falling in love with the challenge? He was the reason Alistair made advances, though. He encouraged the difficulty of intervention and sought ways to make it harder. Why?
Because you do not deserve her, Zevran, he thought as he took in her honey scent and slowly pulled away. You do not deserve love.
She exited his tent and returned to her spot for watch duty. He stared at the closed tent flap for a moment then turned to start packing.
Besides, he continued to think, she is happily with the man of her childhood dreams…
I fear I am about to regret this, Zevran thought as he stood before a sentient apparition – the Guardian of Andraste.
Zevran took a half-day longer than planned to return to the group, partially hoping they'd decide to leave the trail cold and disappear. On the contrary, Violet stalled long enough to remain on the mountain top by conversing and trading with radical Andraste cultists (of all people). He was both amused and impressed that she managed to make a deal with them: taint the ashes for safe passage to the urn and gain additional power. It was unlike her character to make such a deal, yet, so was the thought of treason. He didn't know what to make of it.
That wasn't the issue at hand, however. It seemed the Guardian was intent on extracting their group's inner-most thoughts.
Violet looked at Zevran and he returned a nod. She smiled. It was sweet, yet sad. Turning back to the Guardian, she said, "do I think I failed Jowan?" She shook her head. "No, I've done all I can. His life is his own now."
Alistair frowned and looked on questioningly. Violet didn't seem to notice.
Why does she wish to keep this a secret? He wondered.
As expected, the line of questioning moved on to Alistair who replied honestly with remorse and self-pity. It was such a nuisance and a waste of time. He made that clear when the Guardian finally addressed him. "Oh, is it my turn now? I am so excited," he said sarcastically.
The Guardian began. "Many have died at your hand. But is there any you regret more than a woman by the name of-"
Zevran's ears perked and his eyes widened. "How do you know about that?" he interrupted.
"I know much," he answered calmly. "It is allowed to me. The question stands, however. Do you regret-"
"Yes. The answer is yes; if that's what you wish to know. I do. Now move on," he replied tersely. There was no way he would let him say her name. The chest ache returned. He crossed his arms to secretly suppress it and looked away, trying desperately to calm down. He wouldn't allow himself to lose his composure.
"The way is open," the Guardian addressed the whole party, seemly appeased by his response. "Good luck, and may you find what you seek." He faded with a burst of light and the double doors leading to the ashes slowly creaked open.
"Good riddance," he muttered and followed the party into the Gauntlet.
Eventually they came upon a giant hall with a wall of fire blocking them from advancing. Violet stepped up to an altar that sat a few meters before the flames and crouched down to read the description. A faint blush crept to her cheeks. He debated whether to look away and start heeding his reasons to ignore his growing desires, but his curiosity got the best of him. He was about to ask what was wrong, but Alistair beat him to it. Apparently, he was watching her just as closely.
She bit her lower lip nervously and stood. "We have to take off our armor and drop our weapons."
Zevran raised his eyebrows and noticed Alistair's face turn red too. Chocolate tilted his head to one side.
"We have to approach Andraste as peasants would – to show humility," she said, noticing the surprise and trying to regain her confidence. "Now, turn around and start taking your armor off." She waved her hands until both men were facing the door. "And don't look."
Zevran chuckled and gaily started taking his leather plates off. "Ah, Warden, why so shy? You should be proud of your body and flaunt it. It is so cruel of you to hide that beautiful figure from us."
"Hey!" Alistair huffed and moved toward Zevran menacingly. Zevran turned to face him, holding his ground. "There is no 'us,' Zevran; just me," Alistair said sternly.
"Are you insinuating that I have seen the Warden in her small clothes? If that is the case, unfortunately, you are mistaken," he laughed. Alistair really was bad with words sometimes.
This clearly riled him. "You know what I mean," he said, raising his voice.
"Guys, not now," Violet commanded irritably, but gained their attention in the process.
Zevran followed Alistair's now nervous gaze back to Violet and looked on pleasantly surprised. She had a petite figure, given her blood-line, but her curves weren't boney, as most Elven women were. For a moment, he forgot he was forbidden to look upon her, let alone allow his heart to flutter again. That was quickly corrected, though.
"Hey! I said turn around!" she yelled nervously and crossed her arms in a feeble attempt to hide herself.
Alistair promptly whipped around and blushed uncontrollably. He hadn't noticed Zevran's slower turn, nor (to Zevran's relief) did he notice his own tinted cheeks.
Perhaps, I do not regret returning after all? He thought, amused, and waited for her to give the all-clear sign.
Zevran mulled over the events that had happened that day as he sat on a log near his tent; chin resting in his palm. So, Violet is capable of double-crossing others, he thought, subconsciously tapping his nose. Interesting…
In the corner of his eye he noticed Violet approach. "Dinner is ready, Zevran," Violet announced. He nodded and thanked her.
She started to return to the center of camp, but paused mid-way and turned back to him. "Zevran," she started to ask gently, "are you all right?"
He looked back at her bemused, and chuckled. "Why of course, Warden. Why wouldn't I be?"
"It's just… today, with the Guardian…" she started to say, but paused seeing as she didn't need to explain further. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Finally, he allowed her to see him frown. It was no trick, her concern was genuine (or so he let himself believe). She really did care about him and wanted to know if he was okay. It was at that moment he truly realized that she cared for all her companions, not just Alistair. She even stopped by Morrigan's tent now and then to chat; he could hear them laughing together sometimes.
He looked on her now with slight pangs of jealousy. She only (and always had only) had eyes for Alistair. There was never any confusion as to who her heart belonged to. It was time he bowed-out gracefully. He decided to fulfill his promise, to serve her and protect her, but once he was un-needed, he would travel again and take advantage of the new life she granted him.
In this life he had purpose and meaning. He was making a difference –he, a lowly and wanted assassin and his fellow group of outcastes and rebels. With each mission they were making a name for themselves. By the end of their journey, they would be regarded as heroes. He couldn't just throw that all away now.
Rinna… he finally brought up the courage to recall her name. If there is anything I owe in this life, it is to repent for my sins. Where ever you are… I hope you will forgive me.
"Perhaps I will tell you another time… I have a lot to think about," he said, finally. She nodded and smiled sweetly. He watched her walk away.
A few moments later he stood and walked over to Leliana who handed him his bowl of stew. "Leliana, might I ask a favor?"
"If it's to lick my spoon sensually when I'm done with dinner, the answer is 'no," she laughed.
Zevran was so serious about asking his question he was taken completely aback and laughed heartily. Oddly, her jest helped ease him and regain his relaxed demeanor. "No, no, not that… Though, if you said 'yes' I would not have objected." He winked. "But, seriously, I wanted to ask… if you could say a prayer before we feast tonight?"
The whole group was surprised by this request. Morrigan groaned in protest.
Leliana beamed. "My, looks like the trip to Andraste's ashes made a great impression on you."
He chuckled. "Perhaps," he said.