At the outskirts of Redcliffe the Diana told them to set up a camp.
The sun was setting and it would soon be night. They could wait until daybreak before going to the arl saying that they had gathered all the allies they needed.
Leliana convinced Diana to take a bath with her in the nearby pond, they saw on the way. She had washed her hair, with a schampoo from Orlais. She had also given the Warden some oil for the body, she smelled nice for once.
Better to enjoy it while you still can, Diana.
After they all had dinner, most of her companions went to bed. The smell of stewed rabbit was still hanging in the air, a smell they were all tired off.
It was her time to watch camp. She sat on the log, staring into the fire.
These past months had gone by so fast. Just six months ago she was living her everyday life. She thought about the day she had met Duncan. She sniggered
- how she had pestered her father about joining the coming battle! She remembered Howe, Maker if she only had known...she would have slit his throat right then and there. She threw the stick she was holding into the fire,
Good show Diana, show that stick how angry you are at it!
She sighed, her thoughts wandering. She thought of the time when she first met Alistair. The shy templar was always making inappropriate jokes. He was handsome, and a very kind man, even if he could be stupidly jealous at some points. She knew he cared deeply for her. He was a virgin, but what no one knew was that she was too. She hadn't really had the opportunity. She had tried it once with a knight. It did not end well, and she hadn't wanted to try it afterwards.
Zevran's talk about sex always had her wondering - she hadn't experienced her attempt at all like the way he told it. Diana once had a dream about the elf. She felt her cheeks flame red by just thinking about it. It was a nice dream though, being bellow his naked body...
Why was she so drawn to him?
The assassin had surprised her and proven to be a friend during these few months, when they had been in elven camp in Brecilian forest, she had bought a pair of dalish gloves. She just wondered when to give them to him. Would he even be happy to get something to remind him of his mother?
Cursed nug humper, stop think about that, you crazy woman!
She sighed and took a bottle of ale from Oghren's personal stack.
I'm sure he won't mind.
She took a few sips. Surely this would help her not to think about silly
things that would distract her. She took another sip.
--
Zevran observed her from a distance in the shadows. He saw her drinking the foul dwarven ale. He wondered why he was obsessed with the Warden. He cared for her more then he wanted to, more then he could understand. Had he not learned his lesson?
He never wanted her to know what effect she had on him.
He could still finish his contract if he wanted to. The girl trusted him enough, so doing so would be easy enough. So why can't he do it?
She had been the first one to sit down and talk with him in camp, while everyone was keeping a watchful eye on them. He was surprised by this, but liked her presence. The woman had asked him about Antiva, why he wanted to be an assassin.
When he told his sad childhood tale, the Warden sitting next to him, had compassion for him. She said if he accepted, they were his new family. She could be his family.
Zevran watched her face reflected by the fire. She was pretty, and he could even admit that she was the most beautiful woman he had seen, and he has seen many pretty faces in Antiva.
He wanted her badly, to touch her, to feel her, to smell her. The templar had already gone to bed for the night, so he wouldn't interrupt Zevran this time.
He came out from the shadows and sat next to her, closer than normal, even with the dwaven smell, and the odor from their dinner was still strong, he could smell her own fragrance, the faint scent of roses.
She seemed surprised by his presence, "I thought everyone was asleep."
"How can I be asleep when such a beautiful woman is sitting by herself all alone?
I always told you my Warden. I worship beauty!" He nudged her knee.
"Then why don't you bother Leliana or Morrigan?"
"Yes, yes, I could do that." He leaned closer to her, whispering in her ear.
"But on the other hand, they are nowhere close to your divinty,"
he said stroking her cheek.
She shivered involuntarily and stood up. "I got something for you," she
said.
He raised his eyebrows. "Reeeally?"
"Yes." She went to her tent, looking for something in her backpack. She returned with a package in her hand, flushing as she handed it to him.
Zevran felt the package in his hands. She didn't want to meet his eyes, so she took a few more sips of the ale. She staggered a little when she sat down next him again. He opened the package and he saw a pair of gloves. Dalish ones, they looked exactly like his...
"Do you like them? I thought they looked like that, from what you've told
me." She looked very red in the face.
"They are...beautiful," he whispered.
"I got them, at the Dalish camp. I asked Master Varathorn to make a pair from your description."
"Why did you do that?" Zevran was genuinely surprised.
"I...when you told me about the gloves from your mother, and from all that you've told me about your youth, I thought you should have something that you can call your own."
He looked at her, and without thinking he started to kiss her. She seemed startled but didn't stop him. He closed in, pressing his body closer to hers.