This chapter's for Thessali, who harassed me via a review reply to get writing :P Sometimes we all just need a little kick :) Thanks for all the reviews/favs/alerts!
"Nathaniel," she called, beckoning with an outstretched hand. "Come here, I've got something to tell you."
He came to her, obedient as a mabari, mesmerized by the way her dark hair seemed to swallow the sun's rays, instead of reflecting them. Like the strands absorbed the shine, taking in the warmth and light. Stealing it. Keeping it.
"What is it?" he asked.
She placed her hands on her hips, her lips pulled into a grin of mischief. "Well you're too tall to tell a secret to!"
"My apologies," Nathaniel answered as he felt his own mouth begin to smile, and bent his head down near hers. "Better?"
"Much."
"So, what's the secret?"
She leaned in close, and her warm breath across his ear sent his heart to thudding against his ribs. Her lips moved, and they too touched the oh-so-sensitive skin of his ear. "It's just that-" But instead of finishing her sentence, Nathaniel felt something hot and slick trail from his earlobe to his hairline. The sensation left him reeling, the urge to succumb to a delicious shiver almost unbearable.
"What-?"
"Ssh," she scolded, "just relax…"
Her tongue blazed its exquisite path from earlobe to hairline again.
"Sigrun," he whispered with lips he could barely feel, and turned to face her.
"Warden, while am I at loathe to interrupt you, especially after that mumbled name," said a voice filled with amusement, "I fear I must insist."
Nathaniel's eyes snapped open…and found himself face to face with Jacob. In the background, leaning against the fireplace, was Zevran. His delighted smile was enough to make the archer wish he could find a convenient hole to bury himself in.
The hound surged forward to lick the Warden again. "Enough," he grumbled, managing to grab the dog's head before he could succeed. He shoved Jacob away, not unkindly, and fixed his eyes on the ceiling.
"How much did you hear?" asked Nathaniel, hot threads of embarrassment coiling around his intestines.
"Just her name," Zevran replied. "And never fear. You can count on me to keep my mouth shut about how you think she kisses like a mabari."
"She wasn't kissing-! Never mind," Nathaniel groaned and rubbed his face a few times before glaring at the elf. "How about you just keep the whole incident to yourself?"
"That can be arranged, as well." The former Crow spread his hands wide, and the blazing sunlight through the window glinted off his daggers. "For a price, of course."
"What price would that be?" Nathaniel may have only know Zevran Arainai for a brief amount of time thus far, but one thing he was already certain of was that it was easier to play along with his mind games for as long as you could take it.
"You tell her yourself."
"Tell her what?" Nathaniel demanded, narrowing his eyes. "That I once had a random dream about her?"
Zevran blinked at him for a few moments, before beginning to chuckle to himself.
"Mind letting me in on the joke?"
The assassin finally got himself under control, and shook his head. "Apparently it is too soon for such revelations. Another time."
Sighing, Nathaniel pushed himself upright and looked out the window. To his astonishment, the sun was beginning to set. But that meant…
"You let me sleep the entire day?" he half-shouted in fury. "Are you mad?"
"You needed it," Zevran answered bluntly. "And you need much more. Unfortunately, you will not get it."
"I would've been fine!" Nathaniel argued. Their surroundings finally dawned on him, silencing the next part of his tirade. "Where are we?"
"The Doldrums. Strange name for an inn, if one were to seek my opinion." The elf peered at him. "How much of last night do you remember? Clearly, you haven't riddled me with arrows yet, so you know who I am…but what of the rest?"
The Warden squeezed his eyes shut tightly. Everything was such a jumbled mess; it was hard to line it all up again. If anything of these passed horrific months had ever been in some semblance of order, that is. "Gwaren. We're in Gwaren."
"Excellent. It appears that we got you into a real bed just in time to keep your brains from turning to mush."
Nathaniel glared. "My mental capacity aside, we've wasted an entire day. They could be anywhere! They might have…left already!"
"Did you think I sat around and watched you sleep like some star-struck lover, Warden Howe?" the elf asked. "You are quite handsome, but my tastes are a bit different when it comes to men."
"Flattering," the archer grumbled.
"In any case, I have been busy." A sneer of self-disgust marred his smooth, comedic mask. "Not that it has done any good. All who I've spoken with have no knowledge of any such kidnapping. Not a woman fitting Lorelai's description, not a band of men. Nothing." Zevran chewed the inside of his cheek. "They cannot simply have vanished."
"Why not?" asked Nathaniel bitterly. "I feel like I've been chasing smoke this whole time." He sighed deeply; these sulky thoughts were helping nothing. "I don't think they've vanished, I think they're here. Or at the very least, Gwaren is a staging point for the next phase. Why else would they have mentioned it to your girl in Lothering?"
Zevran tapped his chin. "She seemed genuine, but perhaps I'm simply losing my touch."
"Oh, I don't know. People tend to be honest to the knight in shining armor," Nathaniel pointed out. "Didn't think you were the hero type."
"Neither did I."
"Besides," Nathaniel continued, stressing the real reason he was confident in the prostitute's tip, "I was the one following their tracks. We know I'm right. The fact that we both ended up at the same place just confirms her information."
"You did pay attention last night." Zevran batted his eyelashes extravagantly. "Makes me all a-flutter."
"Yes, well, fluttering aside…"
"Of course." Zevran pushed away from the fireplace and gestured toward the door with his head. "There's plenty of daylight left. Perhaps you will succeed where I have failed."
"Have you sent the vulture back to Denerim yet?" Nathaniel questioned as he forced himself out of the bed.
"To tell Alistair what?" asked Zevran, an eyebrow arched with a bit of contempt. "'Come to Gwaren…for no reason that we can see'? No. We'll wait until we have something substantial before we release the love-struck, furious King, hmm?"
"Good point." Nathaniel reached for one of his boots.
"I took the liberty of getting you some new clothes while I was out and about. Yours are," the assassin leveled a critical look at Nathaniel attire, "looking a bit worse for wear."
Nathaniel laughed. "Can't imagine why."
"Nor can I. As much as I'd like to stay and watch," he washed his fluid gaze up and down the archer's body, causing Nathaniel's ears to burn, "I'll leave you be. Meet me downstairs in the dining area." The elf whistled sharply, and Jacob followed him dutifully out the door.
The Warden sighed with relief, then started to change out of his tattered clothes. The fact that Zevran hadn't found anything out during the entire time Nathaniel was borderline unconscious was growing a knot of fear in his stomach.
Suppose their theories were all mistaken? Suppose they'd already moved her, taken her elsewhere? If he were them, he certainly wouldn't want to stay in one place for too long. And Maker only knew how far ahead of him they'd been. Maybe they had stayed in Gwaren for a significant amount of time, but perhaps that was a month ago.
Bah! Such thoughts would get him nowhere. Whether they were here or had left already, Nathaniel still needed to find someone who had seen them. Otherwise this was the end of the trail…and he couldn't abide that thought.
He smoothed his new clothes into place. At least the elf had managed to get clothes that fit him. Nathaniel had a sudden, disconcerting vision of Zevran standing over him while he slept, taking the Grey Warden's measurements with his eyes.
Yes, definitely a disturbing line of thought. Something to never think of again. Along with mistaking Jacob's tongue for dream-Sigrun's tongue. Also never thinking about that again.
Maybe just think about the part before that, when her lips had been against his ear.
Shaking his head at himself, he shoved his feet into his boots and left the room.
The dining area was full of people, and Nathaniel felt a sudden urge to hide, like he was terribly exposed. Months with no human contact will do that do someone, he supposed. He scanned the masses quickly, spotting Zevran's silver hair almost immediately.
"Well, if I ever feel that I am no longer up to being an assassin, I think I shall consider a career in fashion," Zevran commented after Nathaniel had finally made it through the inn's patrons. "He looks quite dashing, doesn't he, Jacob?"
The mabari barked happily in agreement.
Nathaniel sighed. He never thought he miss having no one to talk to but the dog. "Anyway, do you want to split up or-"
Zevran lifted his hand sharply, cutting off the Warden's next words. The elf jerked his head over his left shoulder, his eyes narrowing with concentration.
Frowning, Nathaniel sought the source of Zevran's focus. At first, he couldn't filter anything out of the garbled noise of so many voices talking over one another, but then he heard it. His frown deepened.
"…and so she, a daughter of Highever no less, asked if there was any other way I'd teach her my dueling techniques. She batted her eyelashes oh-so-prettily. How was I supposed to refuse such an offer? And with her strapping lad, soon to be King, as part of the bargain! He, of course, took a bit more convincing, but he saw our way in the end…"
Uproarious laughter drowned out the rest of the sentence, but Nathaniel didn't need to hear the rest. He tried to wrap his mind around the implications, and then remembered his earlier sentiments about trying to avoid disturbing mental images.
Zevran, however, had developed a nasty, entirely-too-knowing grin. He gestured for Nathaniel to follow, and then shoved his way between the shoulders of two burly men with a flourish.
"My darling," he said, bowing before a striking woman with thick auburn hair, "you know better than to be telling such unbecoming lies."
"Zev!" the woman exclaimed. She sat at a long wooden table, surrounded by a group of men who looked like they hadn't seen the term "respectable" in quite some time. "Whatever are you doing here?"
"Now, now, I'll be asking the questions, since you see fit to color your past conquests with the paint of untruths."
She had the grace to blush. "Ah, Zevran! You embarrass me in front of my men," she demurred, twisting a lock of hair around one of her fingers. Waving a pale hand at the elf, she shrugged with a touch of disdain as she looked at her comrades. "He was not even there, pay him no mind."
"Perhaps no, but I heard about it in detail around our campfire that night," the former Crow countered. "She bested you at a game of cards. Do not deny it."
"He's simply jealous," she told the men in a loud whisper. "Pity, it's such an ugly emotion."
As the pair bantered back and forth, Nathaniel grew more and more confused. Was Zevran telling the truth, or was the woman? Why would the elf lie…unless to spare the Commander's reputation. Did that mean the woman told the truth? Had the Commander – and the King – actually…
He pulled himself short of actually thinking the entire thought. Previous sentiments about disturbing things and all that.
Before he could think any more, or less, on the subject, Jacob let out a vibrating growl by his side. Nathaniel looked down, touching the dog's head. "What is it?"
The warhound let out a booming bark just as someone gave a slurred, belligerent shout. Nathaniel's head snapped up, his hand twitching to the daggers on his belt, and he winced as one drunken man shoved another straight onto the table where Zevran's lady friend sat.
She jumped to her feet swiftly, as did her men, and blades were suddenly in her hands. The fierce snarl on her face belied her earlier, risqué demeanor as she surveyed the brawling men before her with all the anger of a startled wild cat. Jacob barked wildly, lunging slightly forward with each angry sound. One of the men staggered upright, looked around in bleary-eyed confusion for a moment, then swung a wild punch at someone completely different than the man he'd originally been attacking.
What had begun as fisticuffs elevated into an all-out brawl in mere seconds.
"Oh, for the Maker's sake," Nathaniel groaned, now holding on to Jacob's collar with all the strength he had. If he let go, there'd be a room full of people missing their throats, if the dog's current state was any indication.
"Isabela!" he heard Zevran shout. "Come on!"
"But-!" she protested as he grabbed her arm.
"Your crew are grown men, yes? They can take care of themselves!"
She looked mutinous for a moment, then sheathed her blades.
Zevran pushed himself to Nathaniel's side. "It's time we weren't here. I don't like the look of this."
"On that we can agree!" the Warden yelled back. He hauled the mabari forcefully backwards, and nearly ended up with the dog in his lap. "Jacob, let's go!"
Like a forest fire, the confusion and fighting spread, turning the dining area into a dangerous arena before Nathaniel's eyes. He followed Zevran, who was dragging the woman (whose name was apparently Isabela) behind him. Nathaniel maintained his grip on Jacob's collar by a supreme effort as they were jostled through the masses.
In front of him, someone barreled into Isabela with such force that she was knocked off her feet, her arm ripped from Zevran's grasp. Nathaniel dropped down immediately, but let go of Jacob in the process. The mabari became a snarling mass of fur and teeth, causing even the most inebriated of the fighters to muster up enough common sense to back away from his snapping jaws.
Nathaniel managed to haul the man who'd fallen on top of Isabela off by his hair. Tossing him unceremoniously to the side, the Warden helped her to her feet.
"All right?" he asked.
"Never better," she quipped, her face flushed with adrenaline and…excitement?
Nathaniel swore. Was she enjoying this?
"Come along," Zevran scolded, as if they were children lackadaisical about their chores. Denying his calm tone, he grabbed Isabela tightly and darted out a nearby door. Resuming his iron grip on Jacob's collar, Nathaniel quickly followed.
He tripped and landed hard on the alley's cobblestones. His fall left Jacob spinning off balance, still barking demonically. Zevran leapt forward and slammed the door shut to head off Jacob's attempt to reenter the inn.
Breathless laughter made Nathaniel crane his head upside down to see Isabela leaning against the opposing building's wall, arms wrapped around her midsection as she shook with glee. "That a typical evening for you?" he gasped out, still lying on his back.
"It used to be," she said, grinning widely.
"Isabela, meet Nathaniel Howe, a Grey Warden," Zevran announced, speaking like they'd just stepped into his foyer. "Warden Howe, this is Isabela, captain of The Siren's Call and-"
"-pirate Queen to boot," she finished for the elf. Reaching down, she helped Nathaniel to his feet.
"Pirate?" he echoed. Andraste help him, when would the deluge of criminal companions stop?
"Indeed I am." Her smug grin faded, and she absently rubbed at her leather tunic.
"Did that rough and tumble tackle injure you? As I recall, you've been taken down much rougher than that with hardly a complaint," Zevran commented, winking.
Nathaniel was not fooled one bit. This former Crow may feign cold indifference, but his heart was not made of stone. His bawdy remark couldn't completely hide his concern.
"No, I'm not hurt, I just-" She frowned, then dug her fingers into one of the many straps that crisscrossed her tunic. Pulling slowly, Isabela's fingers reemerged clutching a scrap of paper. "This is not mine," she said quietly, eyes burning a hole in the offending paper.
"Well, well, do not keep us in suspense. What tales does it tell?" Zevran urged, waving his hands.
Again, Nathaniel wasn't fooled. Zevran was extremely interested in the paper. And, the archer found, so was he. Perhaps that brawl had not been so spontaneous… What had the man who'd tackled Isabela looked like? Try as he might, he couldn't remember anything other that his longish hair. Damn!
Isabela read it, and her eyes grew hard in the last rays of the sun. "Zev, I don't understand…" She thrust the paper at him, like it was a foul thing he needed to take off her hands. He reached to take it, but then her eyes suddenly widened and she twitched it away from him. "But perhaps I do understand. Your appearance, and in the company of a Warden no less, makes me wish I didn't."
"Give it to me, Isabela," the assassin demanded.
With poor grace, she practically threw it at him. The elf gestured to Nathaniel impatiently, and the son of Rendon Howe came to read over the other man's shoulder.
I'm sorry for the brawl, but I knew no other way to get this to you unsuspected. I heard your boasting, and I pray to the Maker it is not false, for I have no where else to turn. I've no time, nor can I help you, but someone must know. I beg Andraste that you have enough goodness in you to do the right thing. The daughter of Highever of whom you speak has been taken to the golden island.
The world swam in front of Nathaniel's eyes as his chest filled with cold panic. He supposed he shouldn't be panicking; after all, this meant they were right to be here. But seeing this hastily-scrawled note made the whole horrific nightmare all the more real. Before, he'd been chasing a trail. Of course, he knew what the trail was and what it meant. But still, just a trail.
This note brought the culmination of that trail to a gut-wrenching reality Nathaniel hadn't realized he wasn't prepared for.
"Howe!" Zevran snapped.
He shook himself hard. Now was not the time for a personal crisis. "Sorry," he muttered, getting the impression that Zevran had called his name several times.
Giving him a meaningful glare, the elf turned to the glowering Isabela. "My darling captain, what does this mean?"
Isabela's expression grew, if possible, even more hostile. "You're not suggesting that I know anything about-"
"Clearly you do," Zevran interrupted. "Whoever thought to give this to you intended for you to understand it."
"Where's the golden island?" Nathaniel tried before they turned it into a shouting match.
"It's where my comrades and I used to hide objects that we acquired," she spat, "before those mercenaries arrived and drove us off!"
"What mercenaries? When?" Now Nathaniel had to keep himself from shouting.
"Months ago, and I don't know who they are!" Isabela snarled. "My crew and I arrived one day and they were just there. Told us in no uncertain terms that the island belonged to them, and that we were no longer welcome."
"Who does it actually belong to?" the former Crow asked.
"No one. It's abandoned, that's why we used it!" Isabela pointed a finger into the elf's chest. "Don't you dare think for one minute that I have anything to do with…with…whatever's going on with the Queen! You know I'm not like that, Zev!"
Nathaniel tensed. Another moment of faith for the assassin, it seemed. It was not up to the Warden to trust Isabela or not. He'd known her for a grand total of a few minutes. It was up to Zevran.
The Commander, and the King, trusted Zevran. So, Nathaniel would trust him…and his judgment of the self-proclaimed pirate Queen.
The elf took a deep breath. "Yes, of course, Isabela. I know you do not have anything to do with this. You are many interesting things, but a traitor is not one of them." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "How much do you know about these men? Their plans?"
Her eyes spit flares of vengeance. "Their plans? Nothing. But all else…I know everything. Men, weapons, the lot. I can take you to the island, as well. I want to see those blackguards twist for thinking they can push me around!"
"Oh, they shall twist," Zevran assured her, "but for something much worse than daring to offend your loveliness."