ZEVRAN! Oh you glorious hunk of elf. FINALLY!
The Ferelden Lamb and Pea soup dialogue is banter from the game, slightly altered. Do not own. 'Tis BioWare's.
Also, I swear this is not an Alistair/Leliana fic. I SWEAR. Once Zevran gets into the story it'll steer away from that some, but not entirely because somehow while writing this I began to ship Al/Leli super hard. ANYWAY. Enjoy.
p.s. I am sorry about the ending. I was so tired but I had to finish this chapter and ARGH.
As expected, the next three days of travel were tense.
Alistair didn't deign to speak to Catherine at all, whenever she ordered him to attack, or fall back, he simply did, or answered with a curt nod. She honestly found herself enjoying the silence. Leliana seemed to be frustrated with the man, constantly huffing and sighing and looking at him pointedly; Alistair remained oblivious, obviously not understanding one of the foremost relationship rules: the man apologizes to the woman, or the woman gets angry.
Sten took point, with Damon at his side. The stoic qunari seemed no worse for wear from Redcliffe; if he distrusted her (anymore than he did, anyway) Catherine honestly couldn't tell.
The two mages walked along behind them, surprisingly conversational. Morrigan was openly curious about how she had learned of blood magic, why she didn't feel a stigma towards it as most people do, what the difference was in power by comparison. Eventually Catherine just agreed to let her take a look at the grimoire while at camp. The witch gave her a small, but genuine smile, and said "it would do nicely".
Sometimes, she wondered why she bothered.
Eventually, Alistair and Leliana seemed to reconcile. She caught the red-headed woman giving him some small trinket the second night at camp – a necklace by the looks of it. Whatever it was, made the templar very happy, as he practically smashed his lips on hers in a very amateurish kiss that undoubtedly involved a lot of inexperienced tongue. He broke away almost as soon as it started; Catherine couldn't hear it, but she knew he was stammering out an apology. Leliana just giggled in return and gently took the object from his no doubt trembling hands, leaning forward so that her cheek pressed against him, clasping the amulet on.
Then the woman essentially dragged the confused Warden out into the forest and she didn't see them for the rest of the night. Catherine knew enough that he was still a virgin, at least, but his gazes towards the apparently well-versed lay sister became decidedly more lustful.
Midday on the fourth day of travel, Catherine called for a halt.
"Alright." she began as her companions gathered 'round. "We'll need to be as inconspicuous as possible in Denerim; Loghain's got a bounty on Alistair and I, and I imagine anyone seen helping us is wanted, too." Catherine sighed.
Her staff dug into the dirt road as she twisted in anxiously. "I don't like it, but I can only take Alistair and Leliana with me. Morrigan, you look too... you, no offense."
"Oh, no. I take it as a compliment that I don't resemble a drooling oaf or a tittering Chantry sister." Morrigan smirked, eyebrow raising. "Or an innuendo laden reluctant hero."
"Coming from you, that's practically a declaration of love; why didn't you tell me sooner? So much wasted time!" she teased, clutching her heart and swooning dramatically.
The two lovebirds stifled chuckles, and Damon barked excitedly. Morrigan glared.
"There is only so much I will allow, Catherine." the witch replied icily. The giggling stopped.
The mage just grinned, throwing her hands up in mock-fear. "Yes, yes; scary witch! I know."
Morrigan huffed and crossed her arms under her breasts. "I will go start building the campsite, then. Sten and your mongrel are coming with me?"
The Warden nodded. "A mabari isn't out of place, but we look a bit too common to have one."
They did as told and Catherine began down the road again, her fellow Warden and the lay sister in tow. Silence drifted between them like a thin mist – not uncomfortable, per se, but noticeable and somewhat annoying at times. She didn't like to admit it to herself, but she'd grown fond of Alistair's ridiculous jokes and stammering attempts to compose himself when she'd drop some mild innuendo into conversation.
Leliana, of course, was bursting at the seams from the quiet; though Catherine walked in front of her, she could see the lay sister chewing her lip and bouncing nervously as she walk, on top of hearing her light humming.
Eventually, she couldn't help herself. "What was that..." she paused, searching for a word, "um... soup? That we had for dinner last night."
Alistair let out a chuckle. "Ohh, that? That's traditional Ferelden lamb and pew stew!" he declared proudly. Catherine could envision him puffing out his chest and grinning. "Did you like it?"
The woman cleared her throat delicately. Never a good sign. "Oh... so it was lamb then?" she asked, obviously unsure if he was telling the truth. "It had a certain... texture that I don't normally associate with lamb."
"Oh, come on! You can't tell me they never fixed you lamb and pea stew in Lothering? It's a classic!"
"We ate simply there." Leliana replied wistfully. "Whole grains, made into biscuits or bread, and vegetables from the garden, cooked lightly. No heavy stews."
Alistair "hmm"ed thoughtfully. "So the last lamb you had must've been Orlesian style, right?" he asked. Catherine assumed she gave him a nod, as he snorted dismissively. "Ugh. Food shouldn't be frilly and pretentious like that."
"Now, here in Ferelden, we do things right. We take all our ingredients, and put them into the biggest pot we can find," she was quite sure he was adding hand motions to his speech, now, "and cook them for as long as possible until everything is a uniform grey color. As soon as it looks completely bland and unappetizing, that's when I know it's done." Alistair finished with a smile evident in his voice.
"You're having me on!" Leliana said through giggles.
"Me?" he asked innocently. "I would never do such a thing to you, dear lady. You obviously haven't eaten in enough Ferelden inns."
The red-headed woman tittered and Catherine heard the sound of leather and steel straining, followed by a light smack of lips. She sighed.
After a time, Leliana skipped up to her side and linked arms, regaling her with the story of the chevalier Aveline with brilliantly timed hand gestures, allowing questions whenever she deemed fit. It took over an hour for her to get through it all, ending with note that all female chevaliers revere the woman, for her sacrifice made it possible for them to follow their own path.
Another hour slipped by lazily, Leliana flitted between Alistair and Catherine mentioning shoes and hairstyles and flowers as she went to and fro. They came to a hill that seemed to have been cut in half, the road curving down and to the right. It was an interesting sight, akin to someone using a spoon to carve out the earth.
The mage was shaken from her musings by the unmistakable screech of a damsel in distress. Almost immediately the trio caught sight of a disheveled blond woman, stumbling up the muddy hill desperately.
"Oh! Th-thank the Maker!" the woman praised. "You... you're armed-- I... can you help us? B-bandits attacked our wagon... it's... it's just down there!" She pointed a trembling finger towards the curve in the road.
Before Catherine could speak, Alistair stepped up.
"Don't worry, my lady. Bandits are our specialty." he said, flashing her a winning smile.
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes. Mighty slayers of those-too-stupid-to-run. They're still rummaging through the wagons, then?"
The distraught woman nodded frantically, biting her lip. "This way!" She sped off down the hill; Alistair and Leliana followed close behind, Catherine taking up the rear, wondering why the woman was willing to go back toward the hooligans.
It all became rather clear when a sleek, tanned elf with blond, flowing hair stepped out from behind the cover.
He chuckled nonchalantly, leaning against the wood, legs crossed casually. "Ah. Lovely to meet you, Wardens." The elf made a hand gesture she didn't recognize, and six of his fellows headed for high ground. His tongue clicked as he unsheathed his blades. "A shame this couldn't be more pleasant. It's always saddening when I cannot have the opportunity to seduce my targets, first." he purred shamelessly.
"This guy can't be serious." Alistair murmured to himself, reading himself for battle.
"The Grey Warden dies here!" the elf growled.
"Apparently he is!" Catherine yelled over the twang of bows releasing. "Keep that bastard occupied, Al!"
"Leliana! Left side!" she said while ducking behind a rock. "Right is mine!"
Chaos ensued; the lithe elf danced around Alistair's sword, smirk on his face, while Leliana ran between trees and boulders, stopping to string an arrow, and firing, Catherine scorched the bandits with fire and lightning.
The henchmen dropped quickly, little match for the powerful spells and well-aimed snipes, though she had several searing glancing blows that stained her robes red and the lay sister had an arrow lodged in the shoulder joint of her armor.
Alistair roared as the woman ran to assist with the mastermind, smashing his shield into the elf's gut and knocking him into a nearby boulder with a resounding, wet smack. He crumpled down limply, blood painting where he made contact with the stone. The blond elf seemed lifeless for a moment, but he soon let out a pathetic groan, shifting on the ground in an attempt to find purchase.
The templar rose his sword to finish his job, when Catherine stepped in, grabbing his wrist before he could get enough momentum to make such an action useless.
"Cat?" he asked, incredulity and worry laced in the lone syllable.
"Don't kill him. He's not just some bandit." she replied.
"I agree with Catherine; I am quite sure they were assassins, judging from the quality of their weapons and armor." Leliana interjected, shifting weight onto her right leg.
"Alistair, look after Leliana. I'll question him. If he's useless, we'll kill him."
He sighed but acquiesced, lifting Leliana up bridal style despite her protests and sitting her on a nearby wagon to begin work on the arrow.
Catherine sat on the muddy ground next to the assassin-turned-victim, grabbing his weapons and tossing them a good distance away. She situated him so that he laid on his back, shoulders on her lap, one of her legs bent at the knee so that it supported his head in a partially upright position and proceeded to search his armor for other weapons.
Finding several daggers, a few vials of poisons, and that the man had a very toned body, Catherine set the former two off to the side with his main weaponry. Fiddling with her belt pouch, she pulled out a health poultice, uncorking with her teeth, free hand wrapping around the nape of his neck. Intentionally, she spat the stopper so that it hit him in the face; he groaned and muttered something in what she assumed was his natural tongue. Probably nothing too complimentary.
A sigh left her lungs; she plugged the vial with her thumb, using her knuckles to rap him on his bloodied cheek.
"Hey. Wake up. Nap time is over, pretty boy." Catherine grunted, using her raised leg to nudge him painfully between the shoulder blades. "Let's go!"
The elf's head lolled back, one eyelid cracking open slightly. "You need to work on your bedside manner, I think." he quipped, even half-conscious.
"Yeah, I'll get to work on that." she deadpanned. "Here." The vial was brought to his lips; he thankfully seemed coherent enough to understand, and swallowed.
A growl of pain left him, body convulsing as the healing took effect. After a few moments, he sighed, letting himself lean more comfortably against her legs. Amber eyes opened widely, and locked with her gaze, seemingly studying her in some way she couldn't understand, before allowing his sight to drift to her temptingly close bosom, then back up to her face.
Now that she understood.
"Ah. You must be one of the Maker's angels, yes? Come to spirit me away to His side for all of my good deeds?" he pleaded more than asked, before his eyebrows waggled lasciviously. "Might we have time to indulge in... earthly pleasures before I am forced to leave your side? Surely the Maker would not wish such cruelty on me."
Alistair let out a snort. "Oh, Maker. Just what we need, another Cat." he groaned. Leliana made a small indignant sound and smacked him on the shoulder, shushing him.
Catherine just smirked, letting the fingers of the hand on his neck lace through his surprisingly soft hair, tugging hard enough that he'd remember the situation he was in.
"So. Talk."
The assassin quirked an eyebrow. "Of course, beautiful Warden." he drawled silkily. "My name is Zevran, Zev to my friends," The man had the audacity to wink while weaponless in her lap, after trying to kill her, "and I was sent to kill the remainder of the Grey Wardens."
Leliana cleared her throat. "I believe he is a Crow, Catherine. The accent is Antivan." she pointed out with a nod.
From his position, he couldn't see the lay sister, but apparently that was a formality. "That is true. I must say, I am rather put out. I'll have to kill the informants who failed to mention that the remaining Wardens – and company – were so ravishing."
The templar made some kind of growling noise, and the Antivan chuckled in response. "And so aggressive! This country has its charms, doesn't it?"
"So does yours, it seems" she flirted shamelessly. May as well with a handsome man's face in your lap. "But, business first. Who sent you?"
Zevran seemed to take another appraising look at her, an odd look in his eye. It was... intrigue? He seemed almost impressed.
"Mmm. I believe the man's name was Loghain?" he mentioned. "There were no details, but I know this dance; you threaten his power in some way, yes?"
The mage deemed not to answer, instead focusing on his employer. "You're useless to me, then. I already know Loghain wants me dead." she sighed sadly. "I was hoping you'd be some exciting third-party that wanted my head. Loghain is getting quite boring."
She heard a "you're insane" from where her companions were, but ignored it.
The assassin grinned. "Oh, but I am quite useful, dear woman. I... well, I have a proposal for you, if you're of a mind."
"Not that I don't mind an audience sometimes, but I don't think this is the place. Plus I could do five things within the first few minutes that'd make Alistair's head explode."
"Which head?" Zevran returned, not missing a beat.
"Both." she stated, nodding to herself. "But the one in his pants would definitely go off first."
Both Leliana and Zevran let out a bark of laughter; the victim of the teasing was letting out all sorts of odd strangled noises.
The elf shifted himself so that her bent leg was pushed flat, his head resting comfortably at the apex of her legs. He knowingly shook his head back and forth under the pretense of getting situated; heated tingles coursed across her entire body.
He stared up at her as innocently as a Chantry boy, though. "The Crows are not particularly gracious employers, you see. I failed to kill you, thus my life is forfeit."
"And? If you finished the job later?" she asked, knowing where he was headed.
"They would kill me as an example." Zevran replied factually. "The only way I'd be safe, is to sign up with someone they can't touch." He shifted his head again, nodding her direction with a smirk. "You've already defeated one of their top men. My best hope of survival is to serve you, instead."
She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms under her breasts, partially covering his face – though not enough to miss the raised brow in her direction. "You must think I'm royally stupid."
He clicked his tongue chidingly. "Not at all. I think you're royally tough to kill." Zevran paused for effect, and dug his skull a little deeper into her lap, making her shift in her seat. "And utterly gorgeous. There are worse things in life than serving the whims of a deadly sex goddess, let me tell you."
A genuine stream of laughter bubbled from her throat. "Oh, my. We'll keep you." she grinned, patting his head fondly. "I could use someone to compliment me constantly."
"What?! We're taking the assassin with us?" Alistair's voice was breaking with rage. "Do you have a death wish or something?"
Catherine began to speak, when Leliana broke in. "Catherine is right; everyone deserves a second chance."
"I'm not letting her bring along a killer just because she likes what he says!" the templar argued.
"Oh, Maker." Catherine exasperated, turning her torso to look at Alistair. "Do you really think I'm that stupid? I mean honestly? He cut you up pretty damn well, and as far as I can see, we could use someone to warn us if his bosses decided to send a small army next time."
She held up a hand to forestall any argument. "It's settled. He's coming with us." she declared. "Now get started towards the camp, Leliana needs rest. We'll head to Denerim tomorrow."
Alistair looked like he was going to protest, but decided against it. Wrapping the lay sister's arm around his shoulder, he started off up the road they came from.
Zevran sat up, quickly rising to his feet and offering a helping hand. Her eyes drank in the offering, taking mental note of callouses and scars, before accepting it, fulling expecting his too-powerful pull that sent her into his arms, crushed against his leather-clad chest.
"You are too kind..." he breathed across her lips, trailing off in question.
A giggle left her lips. "Oh, like you care about a name?" Zevran simply arched an eyebrow. "Catherine." she relented.
A smirk tugged at his lips, to the point of flashing teeth. "Mmm. You are too kind, kitten. I hope I am able to repay you, someday?" he purred, but pushed her back.
Catherine just grinned. "Get your weapons, Zevran." she ordered. "Leave the poison, if you would be so kind."
The assassin did as he was told, smirk not leaving his face. When he was done, she nodded down the path her other two companions took and began to walk, him quickly reaching her side, but saying nothing.
Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she couldn't help but thing that things had just gotten good. In an entirely wrong way, of course.
When Zevran winked at her, indicating he knew of her stares – and probably her thoughts – she was certain she was right.