Zevran looked down at the elven woman sleeping peacefully beside him. Her long blond hair cascaded in waves over her slender shoulders and down her back which rose and fell steadily with each contented breath. One lithe arm was thrown gracefully above her head while the other was tucked neatly at her side, a hand resting peacefully under her cheek. He ran a hand lightly down her spine, careful not to rouse her but unable to resist the desire to touch her ever so gently. Her breathing hitched slightly and she stirred a bit beneath his hand before she gave a soft sigh and her breaths resumed their normal rhythm. Zevran frowned slightly as his eyes and hand passed over the scars that marred her otherwise perfect skin. Her left shoulder still bore the scar from Sten's long sword as well as an ugly gash where a darkspawn's arrow had impaled her at Ostagar. As he ran his hand further down her back, his frown deepened as he brushed over three lash marks that stretched across her lower back, scars from a different kind of battle. He had noticed them during their second or third evening together when he had finally given her an Antivan massage.

"My dear Warden, where ever did you get these nasty looking marks across you back?" he asked while they were in her tent. They looked like the marks left behind by the crow masters who beat the children during training, but he couldn't imagine where she would get marks such as those.

"Hum, oh, those." She sighed, reaching back and running her fingers over the slightly raised ridges across the small of her back. "Remember when I told you that I had a few relationships with some of the younger noblemen in Denerim?" Zevran nodded. "Well, these are a result of the last one." Zevran motioned for her to continue. "He was the son of one of the Banns who was in town for some landsmeet. I met him his first night in Denerim when he came into the tavern. He was handsome and sweet and asked if he could meet me after I got off work. I was expecting the worst when I found him waiting for me, but nothing really happened that first night. He just walked around the market place with me, talking about his home and Denerim; then he walked me to the gates of the ailenage and kissed me goodnight. He came into the tavern every day that next week just to talk or say hi, and he would walk me back to the ailenage every night. Eventually, he invited me back to his father's estate; by that time I was enamored with him. He had been nothing but kind and generous to me, and I had come to trust him a great deal. I ended up spending every evening with him for the next two weeks." Eriana looked up at Zevran, "I was young and so stupid; I thought he loved me, I mean, he told me as much. He told me that it didn't matter that I was an elf, that I was the most beautiful woman that he had ever met, and he was going to take me away with him to be with him forever. I was such a fool, I believed everything he said." She gave a slight chuckle, "I thought he was in love with me, and I with him."

Zevran had seen where this story was headed. Young naïve elven women were easy targets for lewd and lusty young men; this he knew from experience. Many saw it as a game to lure young women in and crush their dreams. He felt for Eriana as she continued her story. "When it came time for his family to leave, he begged me to come to the estate with him, so he could introduce me to his family. When I arrived, most of the household staff was gone, as was the Bann and his wife. The only people there were him and his friends. He was never interested in me. He introduced me to his friends and then expected me to…" she couldn't finish. "When I refused, he beat me pretty severely. The last thing I remember was being whipped with a leather belt and kicked around. They must have dumped me at the alienage because my cousins found me at the gate and carried me home. It's a wonder I survived."

When she finished her story, Zevran was surprised at how angry he was at this unknown man, at the overwhelming desire to kill that was welling up in his chest. He calmly asked if she remembered the man's name, but she refused to tell him. "Look, Zev, the experience taught me to be more careful, more guarded, especially with my heart. It's one thing to hurt my body; in a way I'd gotten used to that. He was the first to hurt my heart."

"And the last?" Zevan asked.

Eriana glanced over her shoulder at him, a guarded, cautious look on her face, "So far." And that was the last she would speak on the subject. But the scars remained, and not only on her back, that much Zevran was sure of. She looked so peaceful, lying beside him in the dim light of the runes in her tent; it was hard to believe that she had been through so much and come out relatively unscathed. Sighing, Zevran found his gaze returning to his lover's face. Dark eyelashes rested lightly on sun-kissed cheeks and a slight smile remained on her smooth lips even in sleep. Alistair was right, he was a lucky man.

Zevran had known many lovers through his thirty years, but the woman beside him was truly unique. Most of his former bed companions could be grouped into one of three categories: assassination marks, fellow Crows, or casual flings. But Eriana was in a class apart from his past conquests; perhaps it was because of the way he felt he could almost relax when he was with her. In the past, it had been difficult to relax in any relationship. When bedding targets, one always had to be alert for any possible danger; the same was true with bedding fellow Crows, you never knew when your lover might just try to kill you. Casual flings in Antiva also required caution, for you may just as easily find yourself the target of an assassination attempt of the victim of petty crime. Zevran had learned to take pleasure in bed but to never let your guard down, but now he was dangerously close to doing just that. And that frightened him more than he cared to admit. They had been together ever night for nearly three weeks now, and already he felt more open and vulnerable than he had in years. Everything that he believed the crows had beaten out of him seemed to be creeping back in, and he wasn't sure how to handle it. Only one other person in his life could even compare to the exquisite creature sleeping beside him, Rinna.

They were so alike, the woman by his side and the woman he had tried to forget. Both beautiful, fierce, confident, and deadly, but Rinna had been a Crow, and because of that, Zevran had allowed himself to doubt her. But Eriana was no Crow; she had all the qualities that had made Rinna so alluring but none of the drawbacks that had made Rinna so dangerous. She was incapable of betraying him because to her core, she was a good person, Zevran realized this, and that's what made her more dangerous than any of Zevran's former lovers. He remembered how easily he had fallen for Rinna, how he had come to love her when he thought love was all but lost to him forever. But in the end, he believed the lie; he laughed as she died at his feet. Feelings like this were dangerous for Zevran. He was enjoying his time with the Warden, that much was true, but he refused to put himself out there again, he refused to let another person in, to let someone get so close. So every night, after his Warden fell asleep, Zevran stole out of her tent and returned to his own. Bedding her was one thing, but staying with her the night, sleeping with her in his arms was far too intimate, and the very thought of it made him nervous. But each night, he was finding it harder and harder to leave her side. He couldn't deny the fact that he was drawn to her, more than he cared to admit, and he realized that he was swimming in dangerous waters, but the desire to be with her was too strong to deny.

He should leave, that much was clear. He was risking far more than his life by staying with her, but the reward, oh the reward was proving far greater than the risk. Lying beside him was the reward, one he didn't feel like he deserved, one he could have never earned. Sighing, he moved to gather his things and head back to his tent. Beside him, Eriana rolled over, pulling up her blanket to cover her completely. Sighing, she stretched looked looked up at him, "You're still here, so I guess it's not morning yet." Quickly, she grabbed his tunic out of his hands and pulled it over her head.

Zevran grinned. "No my dear, it's just past midnight," he said, giving her a light peck on the forehead.

"Hum, well, let the dog in as you leave," she mumbled as she rolled over, under her blanket once more.

Zevran gave her one final look before leaving. Seeing her lying there, peaceful and beautiful, wearing only his tunic was almost his undoing. "My Warden," he thought to himself. He shook his head and quietly stepped into the night air. As Zevran secured the flap of her tent behind him, he glanced up to see Alistair sitting on watch across the fire, a grim look on his face. Zev laughed to himself as he gave the templar a little wave, only to receive a grunt in return. Yeah, there was no denying it; he was in deep.

A golem, Eriana had managed to find a golem, but with her luck, it was no ordinary golem. No, no, this one came with a broken control rod and an attitude. The thing insisted on calling her 'it' and had an unyielding hatred of birds, not that Eriana could blame it on that one; she imagined that the golem had been much abused by the birds over the years. If fact, the golem liked to shout "death to all pigeons" just before charging into battle, a fact that sent Leliana into hysterics during their first battle alongside Shale. Eriana had been referring to Shale as he since the golem joined their party; she certainly wasn't going to call him 'it.' Leliana, however, was convinced Shale was female.

"Just consider the facts," Leliana pointed out while they were stopped for a short lunch break one afternoon. "She loves gemstones, and loves those crystals because they make her simmer and glitter. If that doesn't scream woman, what does?"

"Um, Zevran likes shiny things, and he's definitely not a woman," Eriana pointed out with a laugh.

"Yes, but he's Antivan, so it doesn't count."

"I like to crush soft things and watch them fountain blood," Shale added. "That is a girlish thing to want to do, yes?"

Zevran glanced up, adding his two coppers, "If you're Morrigan."

Shale wandered over to Zevran and began talking to him about being a Crow, and Leliana leaned over and whispered to Eriana, "And right there is proof positive that she is female. Already she is enamored with your Antivan, yes?"

Eriana laughed, "True, she does seem rather fascinated with Zev." In fact, she had noticed the golem's interest in Zevran. Shale had spent most of the previous day walking with the elven assassin, asking him questions, scolding him for assaulting helpless statues with feces. Shaking her head, Eriana was about to return to her meal when she realized that the two were talking about her.

"It attacked the Grey Warden, and yet it still lives. Had the decision been mine, its skull would have been so much pulp right now."

Zevran laughed, "Oh, I don't know. Could you destroy something as pretty as I am, hmm?"

"Easily," Shale retorted, "I fail to see how any measure of attractiveness would make one difficult to crush."

"Perhaps you do not know how to look, then. Take a long look at our Grey Warden, my stony friend. Right there we have an object worthy of worship, no?" Eriana smiled to herself as she discreetly listened to the two talk.

"So the painted elf seeks the attention of the Grey Warden."

Eriana could hear the smug grin on Zevran's face when he answered, "He certainly does."

Shale sighed, "I have watched many such couplings during the time I spent immobile in Honnleath. Or should I say I was forced to watch. You do know that this usually ends in reproduction. I have seen it many times, indeed."

Eriana's head shot up, and it took every bit of will in her not to turn and look at Zevran to see his reaction. She wasn't the only one interested in this turn in the conversation. Alistair also looked up from his food; his concerned gaze fixed on Eriana.

"Oh?" said Zevran with a casual tone to his voice, "That is not such a terrible thought. Creating a new life can be a great deal of fun." Eriana's heart skipped a beat. "From such moments, a beautiful thing is created; it is the cycle of life my stone friend. It is one of the great joys of life."

Eriana didn't hear the rest of the conversation; her head was reeling. Was that something Zevran wanted? True, they were nowhere near being serious enough to discuss such things, but if a family was something he wanted if the future, it was something she couldn't give him. Her mouth was suddenly dry, her heart in her throat. Surely this wasn't something he wanted, but he had been so casual about it. And though she tried to deny it, Eriana knew Zevran well enough to infer his feelings. This was something he wanted, even if he didn't know it just yet, but Eriana could feel it. She glanced at Alistair who was still looking intently, an apologetic look on his face. She shrugged and returned to her meal, suddenly no longer hungry.

Okay, so both Zev and Eriana have some issues they need to work through. Thanks for all the support!