Her talk with Zevran just confirmed her initial theory that she knew nothing about him. He, however, seemed to know a lot of things about her.

That morning, before she'd even announced to the group that she was looking for her hair tie, Zevran had already been there, offering her one of his.

"You can use this for the meantime," he'd said to her, before quietly walking away.

He also seems to know that she prefers her drinks a little bit cold, or that she doesn't like taking the last shift in watch duty.

Also… he seems to be strangely aware whenever she is lying.

It must've been because of those two weeks of watching her every move, she thinks. She narrows her eyes. Perhaps it is good for her to start watching his every move, too.

…Unfortunately, she hasn't thought about what to say to him when he catches her staring.

Like now.

"Not that I have any qualms of you staring at my back, my warden," Zevran says with a light tone. "I do wonder what you are thinking about while you are doing it."

Filauria fights the blush that is beginning to dust her cheeks. They are currently being led to the Orzammar Royal Palace, having just proven their allegiance to Prince Bhelen. She knows she should be paying more attention to her surroundings since the place is unfamiliar, but the light-haired assassin tends to invade her mind more often than she'd like to admit.

"I was just… I was just studying your blade straps," she says, looking away from his knowing look.

"Of course you were," Zevran chuckles.

Vartag Gavorn, Prince Bhelen's finally moves to a halt. "Here are your quarters," he announces to the group.

Alistair's amber-gold eyes sweep through the area behind where Vartag is standing. "Exactly which of these rooms?" he asks, gesturing to door after door after door.

"Prince Bhelen has generously spared seven of his guest rooms to the Grey Warden and her companions," the prince's second answers.

"That means I get to have a room as well, doesn't it? Oh, how quaint!" Shale chirps happily from behind her.

"I call dibs on the first one!" Alistair announces, bolting to the nearest room.

"Thank you for your kindness, Ser," Wynne says politely. "Please give our utmost gratitude to Prince Bhelen."

"Of course," Vartag replies, bowing in courtesy, first to Filauria, then to Wynne. The others had already begun picking their own rooms after Alistair, with James barking happily after them.

"I think I shall retire early tonight," Wynne says to her, walking to the nearest room available. "It has been quite a long journey."

Filauria nods. "Of course," she says. "Goodnight, Wynne."

Seeing as all of the nearest rooms had already been taken, Filauria moved to one of the rooms by the end of the hall, catching up to Zevran who seemed to be taking his time in walking.

"You're certainly not as excited as the others had been," Filauria comments as she moves to her chosen room.

"I am." Zevran smiles. "I just like enjoying the artistry of this hallway, no? Very intricate designs, if I may say."

Filauria rolls her eyes at him. "Yeah right," she says. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, my warden," Zevran replies as he turns to his door.

Truly, if Filauria hadn't hesitated at that moment and had not looked back at him, she wouldn't have seen it – the barely-concealed wince as Zevran pushed the heavy door open.

Filauria moves to his side at an instant.

"You're injured," she says, pulling his wrist from his side to inspect the ripped leather armor. There is no blood visible, but that doesn't mean there isn't internal bleeding. If Filauria is to make a guess, it must be a broken rib.

"It's nothing but a scratch, my warden," Zevran assures, pulling his hand away from hers.

"Scratch my ass," Filauria scoffed.

The elven assassin raises his eyebrows at her. "Well, certainly, if you'd want," he teases.

Filauria scowls and pokes his side to prove a point. Zevran barely conceals his flinch.

She crosses her arms at her chest when he looks down at her disapprovingly. "Get inside and take of your armor and let me have a look at that, okay?"

He stares her down for a full minute and, realizing that she wasn't going to go anywhere, obliges. Filauria follows her to his room and closes the door behind her.

She fishes an injury kit from her pack and turns around… only to find him leaning against a table across the room, his arms crossed at his chest in only his small clothes.

Are you fucking kidding me?

"You –" Filauria begins, feeling the tell-tale heat of a blush coming up her face. Zevran raises an eyebrow challengingly. Filauria grits her teeth, willing herself to calm down.

Zevran is only doing this to distract you. Get a grip, Filauria. Get a grip.

"Sit," she orders, opening the kit and arranging its contents across the floor.

She feels, rather than hears, Zevran sit by the bed and watch her.

"I have found, in my travels, that some people find this position stimulating," Zevran comments amusedly. "And although could not understand what they were talking about then, I certainly understand now."

She raises her head to ask him what he is talking about when realization strikes her.

He is sitting by the edge of the bed, looking down at her and she is… kneeling in front of him… of sorts.

To someone who has no idea what is actually going on, it would look like she was giving him a –

She sees his eyes darken. "Well, my warden?" she hears him say in his teasing tone, but there is a certain tension in his jaw and stiffness in his shoulders as he says it.

Filauria clears her throat and moves beside him. "Right," she says, feeling the tug of magic around her as she mends his injury.

To say the situation had been awkward is an understatement. She doesn't think Zevran not teasing her for once would feel… strangely uncomfortable.

She pushes more healing magic to her palms, deciding it is better to speed the process up and get it over with. The effort had led her to lean forward a bit, causing a stray lock of hair fall down her face. She attempts to blow it out, but to no avail.

She is about to break the healing magic, but Zevran reaches to tuck the stray lock of hair behind her ear before she can do it herself.

Filauria raises her head to meet his eyes, and suddenly, she is very aware of her own heart beating loudly against her chest.

He sees his eyes glance down to her lips before finding hers again.

And then he is leaning… slowly…

She licks her lips unconsciously. She feels the healing magic in her hands dim as his face nears hers. He meets her eyes for a moment, a silent question – frankly, she is too worked up to answer verbally. She slants her face and presses her lips hard against his.

She thinks she hears Zevran grunt, but she is not sure. She circles her arms around his neck and he feels his hands snake around her waist. She feels him nip her lower lip and she moans in pleasure as he slips his tongue inside her mouth.

Her right hand slides from his hair to his chest, and down to his well-toned stomach.

And then, Zevran flinches.

Filauria quickly, but carefully pulls back, realizing that she hadn't really finished healing him yet.

Zevran lets out a quiet laugh. "I apologize," he says, watching her as she fumbles out of his lap and continues what she had been doing before… well before that happened. "That was rather anti-climactic, wasn't it?"

She fixes him a half-hearted glare before finishing. Then, she stands, gathers her pack, and walks out of his room without saying another word.

The moment she closes her own door behind her, she allows herself to sink to the floor. The clanging of glass against the floor accompanies her descend.

She touches the tips of her fingers to her lips.

What just happened?

A/N: Ooh, sexual tension. Haha. Here's an update for you guys. Do drop a review! Thanks!