Decision to live

Prompt: Zevran's first night (after joining the group)

Prompts: 1 Time: 116min

The ropes hold tight, leaving only enough space for Zevran to draw breath comfortable. The knots had been fastened with some skill from this red-haired woman … Leliana her name … and the elf wasn't sure that he could escape even if he tried. Blanking out the voices around Zevran thought back about the last hours.

The fight against the warden's group hadn't gone well from the start, not that he had anticipated otherwise. This giant Qunari made short work of his thugs while Leliana killed his mage with her arrows before she could be of any use.

As Zevran accepted this contract, he fully expected to lose, to die in a glorious fight against a fabled grey warden. Only that it hadn't been glorious at all. Charging him like a bull with bloodshot eyes this small, broad-faced dwarven woman attacked him without fear or pause, giving him no time to find a good fighting stance, blocked his attacks and responded with a vicious strike of her shield, smashing it into his face, breaking his nose and sending him into unconsciousness.

The pain in his face awakened him some times later, being bound and carried by the Qunari. Zevran felt like a child, the giant not breathing more strained than without his burden. Following the Qunari the dwarf … Nemain … spoke with the warrior of her group, another warden as Zevran knew. This Alistair eyed him with suspicion and tried to persuade Nemain to kill him.

As he never expected to awake after being defeated, to his own surprise Zevran wasn't sure about his wish to die now. It had been a long time since someone bested him in combats this easily. This combination of strength and agility in Nemain … it would be an experience to repeat the duel. Now better able to estimate her skills, he certainly would fare better. But even then Zevran wasn't sure if he could beat her. His eyes wandering over her body, the broad shoulder, the muscular frame, the heavy bosom … Zevran stopped his thoughts. What has her bosom to do with her fighting skills?

As if she could read his thoughts Nemain smirked at him, reminding Zevran of how openly he had glared at her the last minutes.

He can't be trusted. Let us kill him; he would have done the same. Alistair repeated his demand. Nemain shook her head, her ponytail whirling around. I want to interrogate him first. Sten? We make a stop over there.

Leliana and Nemain gave him no chance to escape, as they searched his belongings, stripped him nearly naked and bound him to a tree. The red-haired woman seemed to be amused, giggling from time to time, her gaze wandering about his naked body, the look of a playful and a bit cruel cat in her eyes. Nemain on the other hand seemed more concerned about his scars, witnesses of his former life. Her thick fingers followed a scar on Zevran's shoulder and the compassion in her face touched something deep in Zevran's heart. It scared him, reminded him of some other moments not so long ago, a feeling which led to much grief and pain. The slender face, the pointy ears …

Thick fingers reached into his face and before Zevran could react a sharp pain streaked thru him. He clenched his teeth, suppressed a yell. After a while the pain subsided. We don't want you to suffocate from your broken nose. It had been the first sentence she spoke directly at him. Zevran blinked the tears in his eyes away, stared at her, unsure how to respond. Feeling the glare he looked over to Alistair, the warrior staring at him with a mix of disgust, suspect and hate. Involuntary a smile crossed his lips. Surely it was not the first man reacting this way, feeling threatened by the interest of his woman to Zevran.

Curiously he inspected them. Alistair had this aura of a virgin around him, these movements of being a man on not yet a full man. He seemed to have feelings about Nemain, but Zevran was sure that they hadn't spent a night together. Nemain on the other hand was fully aware of her womanhood, the impression she made on others. Gorgeous, that word described her best, Zevran mused. That her eyes expressed much more compassion than desire unsettled him a bit and to his surprise he felt frustrated.

Zevran was sure he could tease Alistair enough to get killed, but … did he want it? Hours before he would have answered with a firmly yes, but now …

What shall we do with you? Nemain asked with low voice. Alistair wants to kill you; Leliana has other vicious things in mind. A cruel smirk crossed Leliana's face, followed by a short giggle. I want some answers from you. Since I'm no friend of torture, it is your decision what you want to say. But be assured that I would kill you if I'm not impressed by your sincerity. Think about it and make your choice.

Nemain watched him closely, waiting with the patience of her people for Zevran's answer. The elf tried to read her mind. Determination he saw in her face. She would really kill him if he decided not to cooperate. But also there was something other. Hope. Hope that he would chose to live, chose to answer her questions. And this hope had nothing to do with the worth of his information, but with him. She was not a cold-blooded killer. Yes, she would kill, but she would hate it.

What would be his options? He could go thru with his original intent, deny her offer and die. It would all end now, the pain in his heart would subside, and the memory of his cruel treason would fade. Or he could answer her truthfully, reveal what information he had and leave. Live with his past until the crows found and killed him for his failure. Or he could try to start something new. Would Nemain agree to his proposal? Alistair surely would not and the thought of Alistair's anger conjured a smile on Zevran's face. He simply had to try at least.

Nemain, you want some answers. Perhaps I have a proposal for you that you find agreeable …