She doesn't remember ever crying before. In the circle, it is essential to keep emotions in check. It is very easy to lose control when one is too happy or too sad.
Or too angry, a voice in her head adds.
She glances at the tent before her.
She shouldn't have done what she did. It hadn't been right to channel all that anger into one person. Especially when he isn't even the reason why she's angry.
His prodding had been detrimental to her losing control, sure. But she isn't angry. Not at him. She is angry at herself.
From the moment she left the circle, she'd been careful to keep her emotions in check. There is no time to grieve, she'd to herself. The blight is upon us. There are bigger things to worry about.
Forget it. Forget your grief. It is not important.
But then… seeing Jowan again had made her relieve everything. The pain – the guilt… the anger.
For a few moments she could not speak. She could only look at him in shock.
Is this an illusion? She thought. A demon messing with her mind?
But no. The moment he'd opened his mouth and said her name, she had known that it was real.
"Filauria?"
She closes her eyes.
Too soon.
She hears the rustle of clothing just as Wynne emerges from Zevran's tent.
She gives Filauria a stern look. "I trust that you don't try to kill him this time?" the older mage says sternly.
Filauria fights the urge to wince at the comment. "I promise not to," she says in a small voice.
Wynne crosses her arms at her chest. "We shall talk later," she says before she walks away.
Filauria sighs and stares at the mud-stained tent for a moment before poking her head inside. Zevran watches her warily from where he is lying. She sees the bandages wrapped around his torso and the burnt skin by his right shoulder and she cringes in shame.
"I… I'm sorry," she says, wringing her hands together.
Zevran says nothing. Every second under his unreadable gaze weighs her guilt-ridden posture down more and more.
"I… I didn't mean to do that. I usually don't lose control. I –" She finds his eyes and they lock for a moment before she looks away again. "Truly, I do not know what I can do to make it up to you."
She turns to Zevran again. He is still watching her silently.
Filauria bites her lower lip. "Say something?" she says softly.
The elven assassin draws a breath and sighs. "I guess I sort of deserved it," he says to her.
She looks for resentment in his eyes, of disgust, of hate, but she finds nothing. There is only a silent understanding in them. Realization suddenly dawns on her.
"You knew," she whispers in shock. "You knew I was going to lose control if you did that."
Zevran half-nods. "Yes. I suppose I did."
"But why did you do it!" she asks, her eyes wide with shock. "I could've killed you!"
The assassin shrugged, and flinched just after the gesture. Filauria's eyes find the burn on his shoulder again and she is suddenly on her knees beside him.
"Let me," she says, looking to his face for approval before gently pouring healing magic unto his charred skin.
Zevran watches her silently, as he always does. Somehow, rather than being annoyed, the gesture makes her self-conscious this time.
"You shouldn't have done that," she says to him. "What if Alistair hadn't been there to stop me?"
Zevran shrugged again, but using only his left shoulder this time. "We all get to die at one point or another," Zevran answers vaguely. "I could have died when I tried to assassinate you. Or I die if I go back to the Crows. Or I could've died today. We all die eventually."
Filauria shoots him an incredulous look. "You are one suicidal elf, you know that?"
Zevran laughs. Inside, Filauria is relieved that the atmosphere around them has lightened a bit. "Remind me to never get on your bad side again," Zevran says.
Filauria scoffs as she watches the skin on his shoulder knit together. She pumps more healing magic to his wound until it is completely healed. She draws back with a slight pant.
"You needn't have healed that all the way," he says, watching her wipe the sweat out of her forehead.
"Humor me," Filauria replies. "I just tried to kill you."
Zevran laughs again. His laugh is beautiful, she decides. Melodic and not at all pretentious. "Point taken," he grins at her.
Filauria licks her lips nervously before looking away. "I really am sorry, you know," she repeats. "And… thank you."
"You are welcome, my warden."
A/N: Hey there guys! I received a request about changing the length of the chapters. However, I do not think that is possible for me because I've found that I have a higher probability of finishing a fanfic if the chapters are short. Rest assured, however, that the length of my chapters means regular update. (Every three days or so.)
Thanks for all the support. Drop a review for me!