Note: I definitely see this guy as Antonio Banderas in The Legend of Zorro. :)
...
Delia stared into her armoire wondering what to wear. It had been on her mind all day and now it was nearly time to meet Wolf in the orchard. She could wear her armor, of course, but... She snorted with frustration. Am I really thinking of wearing a dress? she asked herself in disbelief. She could just hear Wolf chiding her over that, so she wouldn't give him the opportunity. She slammed the armoire shut and stood in front of the mirror instead. Her hair was plaited in a single braid, as it normally was. She released the binding and combed out her black hair. It fell nearly to her waist and the braid had left it wavy. She hoped no one saw her, she never wore her hair unbraided, they would certainly be curious. A cloak would solve that. She pulled a cloak out of the armoire and put it on, pulling the hood over her hair.
She went down the stairs, into the Great Hall. Varel saw her heading for the front door.
"Aren't you having dinner, Commander?" he asked.
"Um, no. Not tonight. I'm going for a... walk," she dissembled.
"Is that wise, with the darkspawn hunting Grey Wardens?"
She sidled up to Varel, deciding to trust him. "Actually, I'm meeting your friend. We need to chat," she spoke in a low voice to him.
Varel looked puzzled. "My friend?"
"The Dark Wolf."
"Oh! He's not actually a friend, just someone I had heard about. You need to be careful, Commander. I wouldn't trust him."
Delia shrugged. "He seems to be okay. He hated the Arl Howe and the nobles aligned with him, so I think we're working off the same page. Besides, if he wanted to do me harm he's had plenty of opportunity."
Varel cocked his head looking at her curiously.
Delia saw the implied question but chose to ignore it. She nodded to Varel and left.
She walked out of the keep and followed the road a ways. She waited until the shadows grew heavy, then stepped into a clump of trees and waited. She wanted to make sure she wasn't being followed. It would irritate her no end to hear Wolf gloating that he had followed her. She listened carefully for awhile. Glad she was that she did, she heard a stealthy footstep. A small smile played on her lips. She would turn the tables on him tonight. As the figure passed her spot, she stepped out.
"Looking for me?" she said insouciantly, unable to keep the gloating out of her voice.
Wolf turned quickly and launched himself at her. When he was nearly on her she saw it wasn't him. She barely had time to get out of the way. She heard her cloak tearing as a dagger cut into where she had just been standing. Thank the Maker I didn't wear a dress, she thought. She quickly drew her daggers and reacted just in time to parry another attack. Her attacker was quick and well-trained. He reminded her of Zevran, only he wasn't quite as good. She parried and counter-attacked his next thrust and she cut his arm. It wasn't disabling but he would feel it.
The cloak was hampering her. She wanted it off, but she didn't have time to remove it. After the next attack, she didn't want to remove it. It was visually confusing her attacker. He got one of his daggers stuck in the loose fabric for a moment, it was all she needed to strike the bundle of nerves on his wrist with the pommel of her dagger. His hand released the dagger, as she knew it would. Another crow trick Zevran had taught her. She kicked the dagger away and closed on the retreating assassin. It was getting darker but she thought she saw fear in his face. He parried her next attack and suddenly his hand holding the dagger was empty. She hadn't seen him switching hands. His other hand lashed out and she only managed to spin away before he plunged it into her chest. Instead it left a shallow cut on her arm.
Her assailant was momentarily off-balance, it shouldn't have been a problem normally, usually fighters pay little attention to their opponents feet and legs, but Delia's mother had been a stickler about this. Women were lighter and weaker, they had to use their brains. So Delia knew a well-aimed kick would take him down. She swept her foot to the inside of his knee and his leg crumbled. She was on him in a moment, delivering a final slash to his neck. She ducked out of the way before she was splattered with blood. She rested a moment to catch her breath, then she dragged his body off the road into the trees. It wouldn't do to advertise his failure too quickly.
She picked up his daggers and recognized them immediately. Crow daggers. So the Crows were after her again. She was going to have to be more careful. As much as she hated to admit it, Wolf was right. She had been lax and making herself an easy target. She stuck to the shadows and made her way, slowly and carefully, to the apple orchard.
He was pacing, under a tree. She moved carefully, making certain it really was him. The sun had already set while she was dragging the dead Crow into the woods. Now the last of the vibrant sunset was fading from the sky. She stepped out from behind a tree when she was convinced it was truly him.
"You're late," he said. He stopped in his tracks and stared at her a moment. Then he crossed the ground separating them and pulled her to him, setting his mouth on hers. His prior gentle kisses had been replaced by a fierceness this time. His hands grasped her upper arms and he pulled her into him. She hissed and pulled away, covering the cut on her arm protectively with her hand.
"You're bleeding," he said. "What happened?" he asked, pulling her hand away so he could see.
"I was attacked on the way here... sort of."
"Sort of?" he asked. "Explain. I'll bandage it up." He rummaged through his pack, looking for his supplies.
"Actually, it's rather amusing. I thought it was you following me. So hid and then was going to confront you. Only, it turned out not to be you." She paused, watching him unlace her leather sleeve and pull it off to get to the wound.
"Who was it?" he asked.
"An assassin, unfortunately. A Crow assassin."
"An Antivan Crow? Are you sure?"
"Yes. He certainly moved like one and he was wielding a pair of Crow daggers. I've... run into Crows before."
"I've heard. Your Antivan paramour. The other half of the Dark Wolf."
Delia sucked in her breath with surprise. "How do you know that?"
Wolf chuckled. "Slim is a good friend and we sometimes shared information. Still do in fact." He poured something over the cut and she hissed again.
"Stings," she complained.
"I bet. You should see a healer, that's going to leave a scar." He wound some strips of clean fabric around it. "Better?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Now do you understand why I've been telling you to be more cautious?"
She nodded. "I will be. It's not like I have anything else to do," she said glumly. Suddenly her frustration exploded. "Maker's fucking breath! There's something going on with the darkspawn. We're scrambling trying to figure it out. The Keep is still weakened from the attack. Voldrick needs stone and money to rebuild it. Wade needs ore. The farmers need troops, the city needs troops, the trade route needs troops! And now this?"
She kicked at the ground with the toe of her boot. "I'm sorry," she said, "this isn't any of your concern. I shouldn't..."
"No," he said, "I was actually curious. I wondered what you do. The only time I see you, you're usually very deeply asleep, looking utterly worn out."
She gave a half-chuckle. "Well, that would be why. We're too few. The darkspawn killed all the Orlesean Wardens."
"Did you eat?" he asked.
"What's with you and eating?" she asked. "Am I really that skinny?"
"Just answer my question," he said, knowing better than to answer hers.
"No, I didn't have time."
"I thought not," he took her hand and guided her further into the orchard. In a clearing she saw something dark on the grass, but the moon wasn't up yet and it was too dark to see.
"What is it?"
"Dinner."
"A picnic?" she laughed. "In the dark?"
Wolf bent over and fumbled with something, a lantern flared and illuminated the scene. It looked delicious. There was a roasted chicken, bottles of wine, bread, butter and honey.
Delia groaned, suddenly realizing how hungry she was. "That looks really good."
"Let's eat then," he gestured for her to sit and he sat beside her. She looked around for the plates, napkins and utensils. "I forgot the plates," he confessed, "and well, everything except the food."
She laughed. "Planning isn't your strong suit, is it?" She reached over and ripped a leg and a thigh off the roasted chicken. "Fingers still work and I'm not too good to use them."
He followed suit and ripped off the other leg and thigh. "Well, actually, it is. I planned all those jobs for you in Denerim, you know. They worked out rather well, didn't they?"
Delia looked at him while she bit a large chunk of chicken. She chewed and swallowed quickly. "You did? I thought Slim did. They worked out. Mostly. That one didn't."
Wolf watched her eat. She was eating like a young wolf, ripping into her food with gusto. She must really be starving. "We were set up. I still feel bad about that. You and your... friend were lucky to get out of that."
Delia reached over and pulled a large chunk off the loaf of bread and poured some honey on it. She devoured it in a flash.
Wolf watched her in amazement. "You do have a healthy appetite, when you get around to eating."
She tried to say something but her mouth was full, so she concentrated on chewing for a moment. "Yes. It's a Grey Warden thing. We have enormous appetites."
Wolf cocked his head, looking at her curiously. "Why is that?"
"Oh well, part of a secret ritual we go through leaves us... changed in various ways, good and bad. The appetite is one of the side-effects. Being able to sense darkspawn is another."
"A secret ritual? I hadn't heard about that. What does it involve?" he pressed.
"It'd hardly be secret if I told you," she taunted him. "You can't have all the secrets, you know."
"We could trade secrets," he suggested.
"We could, however there are some Grey Warden secrets I really can't tell."
"Fair enough, there are some I can't tell either. You go first, ask me a question." He opened a bottle of wine and handed it to her. "No glasses, sorry."
She laughed and raised the bottle in a silent toast, then took a few gulps. She passed it back and he followed suit.
"Where are you from?" she asked.
"Originally, Rivaini. But I came here as a baby, so I consider myself Ferelden. My turn." He thought for a moment. "I know you're from the Alienage in Denerim, but how did you end up a Grey Warden?"
Delia finished chewing another mouthful and swallowed. "A long story but I killed the Arl of Denerim's son and they were about to cart me off when I was recruited."
Wolf stared at her, his mouth open. "You killed Bann Vaughan? Why?"
"I'll answer, but I get two questions!" She waited for Wolf to nod. "He kidnapped a bunch of elven women on their... our... wedding day for his amusement. My cousin and I managed to free the others, well, the ones they didn't kill." Delia's face shone with pure hatred at the memory. "I told the guards it was me that killed everyone and they were about to march me off when the Warden-Commander recruited me on the spot."
"I take it you didn't get married then?" he asked.
"That's three now. No, my fiance was killed trying to rescue us." She sighed. "I feel bad, he seemed like a nice enough guy. I just met him that day, but I really didn't want to get married." She picked up the wine and tried to chase away the bad memory with another gulp.
"Okay, your turn," he said. He ripped the remainder of the chicken in half and offered it to Delia. She took it and thanked him.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Hm... I suppose I can trust you. If you were going to have me arrested you already would have done it."
"I don't know, you're still useful to me. Maybe I'm just waiting until we have this conspiracy business wrapped up." She grinned at him slyly.
"And you'd tell me that?" He looked confused.
"I'm not going to arrest you. I was just teasing."
"Why not then?" he asked.
"Wait, I'm losing track of the questions, I think you owe me a bunch now," she complained.
"Oh forget that for now, why wouldn't you arrest me? Isn't it your duty as the Arlessa?"
"Oh please! My duty to protect a bunch of wealthy lords and banns, who suck their wealth out of the peasants they rule over, from someone relieving them of the burden of that ill-gotten gain? They're a bunch of parasites. If I weren't stuck with this job, I'd probably be doing exactly what you're doing."
Wolf smiled at her. He would have kissed her, but they were both smeared with chicken grease.
"Well, then, I am convinced. I am Melchor d'Alboquerque." He gave a little half-bow. "At your service, my lady."
Delia suppressed a giggle. "Melchor?"
"Now you know why I prefer to go by Wolf."
"Maker, yes. I don't blame you now for stealing the name. You are welcome to it."
"Thank you. But anyway, my parents were nobles in Rivaini but my father's rivals came into power and they fled the country with very little of their wealth. Enough that they were able to set up as merchants in Ferelden and see I had a good education."
"Don't they object to their son robbing nobles?" she asked.
"They would, of course, but unfortunately they perished very early during the blight and everything we owned with it. I joined Loghain's army."
"Were you at Ostagar?" she asked.
He nodded. "Once I expressed my opinion of Loghain's retreat a little too loudly and some of Bann Esmerelle's men had me arrested. Eventually I ended up in Howe's dungeon, in Amaranthine. I escaped and I've been robbing nobles ever since."
Delia finally finished eating and looked around for something to wipe her hands on.
"There's a stream not far away," he stood up and pointed in the direction. They both went to the stream and washed off the chicken grease, then they went back to the blanket. He sat down and she sat very close to him, facing him.
"Since I know who you are now," she said, her hands moving to the back of his head, "is there any reason to wear this now?"
"Only to protect you from my terrifying visage," he replied, his head closing the distance to hers.
She worked at the knot while his lips closed over hers. She sighed involuntarily and opened her mouth to his probing tongue. When the knot was finally undone she pulled away and broke off the kiss. She studied him, her mouth going a little dry. He was gorgeous. His hair, a little squished from the mask, was thick and fell in soft black waves to his shoulders. His eyes were dark pools. They were so expressive, punctuated by heavy black eyebrows. His nose was more powerful than perfect, but in her book that was perfection. There was just a little hump in the middle and it made him look a bit hawkish.
"Should I put it back on?" he asked.
"Maker, no! Burn this thing."
He laughed. "I can't Delia. There are some who would recognize Melchor d'Alboquerque as the escapee from Howe's prison. I have no intention of going back."
"Howe is dead," she protested.
"But Bann Esmerelle is not."
"Well, not yet. Wasn't this meeting supposed to be about her?" she reminded him. She shivered with the night growing chillier.
Wolf pulled her to him, so her back was against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. "I'll keep you warm." He kissed the point of her ear.
"Bann Esmerelle is the leader of the conspiracy. I had been planning to rob her estate, that was why I wanted your help initially. When I found out she was in on the conspiracy, I thought we could combine our efforts and rob her and eliminate her."
"We can do that," she said.
"But now you've told me how insanely busy you are, I don't want to burden you with this. I'll handle it."
"Nonsense, we had a deal. Besides, it would be fun to be the Dark Wolf again."
"I don't know," he said, "you seem so tired all the time. You should get more rest."
"I'll rest when I'm dead. Right now, I want to do this with you. It will be amusing and I could use amusement more than rest."
"Perhaps you can have both. Will you be at the Keep tomorrow night?"
"I believe so. We have some matters to take care of but they shouldn't keep us away overnight."
"Then go back to the Keep now and go right to bed. Tomorrow night we can handle the Bann."
"Why don't you come with me?" she asked, turning her head to look at him.
"That would fall under the category of amusement and tonight is for rest. Just sleep in a different room tonight. I don't want any Crows to interrupt your dreams."
She sighed heavily. "When she's dead, can you stop hiding?"
"Yes. Then I can court you openly. Until then, mi corazón, you should not be seen with me."
Delia's heart skipped a beat at the term of affection. There was just the slightest hint of accent when he spoke. She twisted at the waist and pulled his mouth to hers. Her hands went through his dark hair and she growled slightly as he kissed her.
"Hm, what is it, wolfing?" he asked her, stroking her hair.
"I want you," she complained.
"Rest tonight." He disentangled himself from her and stood. He helped her up and kissed her hand. "Go."
She walked away. Something about him dissolved her rebellious streak. She turned to look one last time. He was watching her, standing as straight as a sword. She felt like a silly girl falling in love, but for once she didn't mind.