Zevran
A flash of rust drew his attention. Below him, in the garden of the Grey Warden compound, was his first sight of his Lucia in over a year.
Thank you, Maker. A brief moment of spirituality welled up from somewhere and was instantly repressed by solid rationalism. It was hard to give credit or blame to a god when it seemed that the course of his life had been overwhelmingly determined by man. Where was the hand of a caring god when his little family was torn apart? If the Maker existed he was an uncaring bastard.
But for fraction of a moment, he could believe in a more sympathetic deity as Lucy backed down the stairs, bent at the waist helping a toddler navigate them. He couldn't hear what she said, but the sounds of a mother giving encouragement to her child were unmistakable. Her laughter floated up to him on the roof where he perched, concealed from sight by a dormer on a neighboring building. He watched as she swept the child into her arms and took him down the remaining stairs and sat with him in the grass. It was a fine day in Denerim, and mother and child were enjoying the beautiful weather.
This then was the woman he loved and the child he counted as his. From up here, he couldn't see much of the babe. Dark hair, fair skin, but what color were his eyes? Riordan's green or Loghain's blue? That was one of the questions that his intelligence gathering hadn't answered.
What he did know was that Lucy wasn't alone. A handsome mage lived in the compound with her and, as he managed to gather, they shared a bed. Not something he should find surprising, necessarily. He knew his lady's needs were substantial and he'd even suggested she take a lover. But he was dead to her, so what was the nature of this relationship? He hadn't been able to determine that from his discrete inquiries.
She was a heroine again, he learned. Another darkspawn disaster averted under her leadership, and northern Ferelden was mostly grateful. Some though did not share the appreciation. Her brother seemed to be on a one-man crusade to discredit her. He'd been planting people in Denerim to spread gossip about her. Zevran only hoped that gossip was the worst of it. Lucy had become a lucky talisman and the people were reluctant to give up their charmed savior, despite even overwhelming proof that she was at the very least eccentric and possibly heretical.
Maker, if you're not a complete testa di cazzo, let my woman take me back. Otherwise…
He left the thought incomplete because it left a cold hollow feeling in his gut that was reminiscent of how he had felt after Rinna had died. There was only one way to know if he could still have a place in her life. He scrambled down the roof and dropped to the alleyway below.
Lucy
"Look Danny, a beetle!" I pointed out the luminescent, green-winged beetle to my son who seemed infinitely fascinated by them. He wiggled excitedly and scrambled after it, reaching for it with chubby hands, but only managed to seize on some grass. His fine motor skills weren't fine in the least, and I was glad for it because everything he seized went in his mouth, even bugs. I couldn't begin to count the number of times I'd forced a finger into his mouth trying to fish out something disgusting he had decided to sample. Other mothers assured me it was perfectly normal behavior and, despite scaring the wits out of me, he remained incredibly healthy. Not even a sniffle had yet afflicted the kid. Maybe some of the hearty Grey Warden immunity had passed to him from me and Riordan. Or perhaps dirt was actually good for you. I'd gotten over some of the squeamishness I had brought from my clean twenty-first century earth perspective to Ferelden where I knew how filthy everything and everyone truly was. It was the way to build a healthy immune system, or so I told myself.
Riordan, yes. I was quite sure now that Danny was Riordan's spawn, so to speak. His eyes had turned a lovely shade of green. I sometimes got misty when I looked into those moss-colored eyes. I knew I would see him more and more as my son grew older. It warmed my heart to know that Riordan would live on in Danny.
"The son is as charming as the mother, I see."
My heart nearly stopped at the heavily-accented, sultry voice. I leapt to my feet and stood over Danny, lightning already crackling in my hand. "Who is there?" I couldn't see who had spoken.
"Ah, there is no need to be alarmed. I am a friend."
A dark-haired woman stepped out of the shadows created by shrubs and trees in the garden. Everything about her shouted "danger". She had that look I'd come to associate with Crows: polished and deadly, like a finely honed blade.
"I don't have any friends among the Crows," I said, nearly spitting the words. "I suggest you make a strong case for why I shouldn't kill you where you stand."
"Because, mi señora, I have brought you something from one who loved you deeply, Zevran Arainai. Before he perished—mostly bravely, I must say—he made me promise to seek you out. He said that you might be suspicious of me, so I must tell you something only he would know so that you know my intentions are honest."
I let the lightning flicker out in my hand, but I was dubious. Still, the Crows didn't usually announce themselves. And I was curious, very curious. I'd never really felt a sense of closure over Zevran's loss.
"Soft Corinthian leather," the Crow said softly. Her eyes held mine and looked almost soft, something I wouldn't expect from a Crow.
"What does that mean? I never did get to ask him," she asked.
I sucked in my breath and my mind rocketed back in time to when I'd only just met Zevran. Almost immediately a flirtation had sprung up between us. One night, he'd offered me an Antivan massage and it was his voice, his accent so like Ricardo Montalbán's, that had dissolved whatever weak resistances I'd had. Those words had been ones I'd asked him to say simply to hear his voice. I turned away from her to hide the tears springing to my eyes.
"Warden? I am sorry. I didn't mean to…"
"No." I held up my hand. "I'm all right." I wiped away the tears that were threatening to run down my cheeks. Turning toward her again, my face pinching with emotion, I managed a welcoming smile anyway. "Please, come into the compound. I apologize for my wariness." I picked up Danny and we walked in together.
She stared at Danny and gave him a smile which he returned. "Your wariness is only natural given the troubles the Crows have caused you, Señora Cousland."
"Please, call me Lucy."
"You may call me Daniella," she replied.
I got her seated in the parlor, but I had Danny in my arms still. "Let me find Danny's nurse and then we can talk. He can be a little distracting."
"Lucia, if you please, do not send him away. I know one thing Zevran dearly wanted was to see his baby. He could not, but I will send my prayers to him and tell him about his handsome son."
Her words brought me to tears again. I seated Danny on the floor between us, and then sat on the divan across from her. I remembered how Zevran had sworn he would never abandon me and our baby and then he'd been forced to break his word. I was swallowed up with a grief I'd never really faced. I had been too distracted by darkspawn and dealing with everything that came afterward. I buried my face in my hands and sobbed.
"Lucia," she said softly.
There was something familiar about the way she said my name, but I was too distraught to really pay attention to it. She got up, sat next to me, picked up my hand and held it in hers.
"I am sorry. I did not mean to make you cry." She pulled a soft handkerchief out of a pocket and handed it to me.
Hiccupping, I took the cloth from her, blew my nose, and then dried the tears. I worried that my display would frighten Danny, but he only looked intrigued by what we were doing. He crawled over to us and pulled himself upright by clinging to my legs.
"Daniella, I'm sorry. I thought I was past this. I guess… I guess I'm not. Why didn't he ever write?" I was wishing I had letters from him. They were something tangible I could touch, and perhaps hear his voice when I read them.
"He tried, Lucia, but he was afraid the letters would be intercepted and serve to remind the Crows you could be used to capture him. A dozen of them he wrote, but he burned every one."
The waterworks threatened to start again that revelation. Then it struck me that this woman seemed to know an awful lot about him. Had they been lovers?
"You… knew him well?" I asked. How could I resent her for that? I'd certainly tried to find someone to fill in for him. What's good for the goose is good for the gander, or visa-versa.
"We were…close. Like brother and sister. You could say we grew up together. There was nothing between us. Nothing like you two shared, mia cara. He spoke of you often, though." She smiled and looked down at her hand holding mine. "Of how much he loves… loved you and his bitter sorrow at having to leave you."
My face crumpled again and the tears restarted. I gulped and sobbed noisily. Danny looked at me with confusion, beginning to look upset himself. I had to get this under control.
The Antivan woman's eyes filled with pity. She hugged me, patting my back with her… very large hands. I hadn't realized it until she embraced me how large her hands were. "Shush now, Lucia. Zevran would want you to be happy and have happy memories of your time together. This I know about him."
I nodded and managed to quiet my sobs. My noisy crying always bugged me. I wished I could be one of those women who rains dainty tears into a handkerchief. That just wasn't my way. When I was sad, I was messy and noisy. My nose ran like a river, my face went blotchy red, and my sobs were epic. Even worse, once I got started, stopping was hard.
I can imagine that Anders, when he walked in, was shocked by the sight of me wracked by a grief he'd never seen before, not even when I had first learned of Zevran's death. I'd had to postpone it and deal with the darkspawn first. Now though, it was fresh. I felt like I'd lost him all over again.
"Lucy?" he said, pausing at the doorway to the parlor and looking at me and the woman hugging me, rubbing my back. "What is it?"
I don't know why, but I pulled away from Daniella, feeling almost guilty, and jumped to my feet. Then I was embarrassed over my strange reaction. I dashed the tears away from my eyes. "Oh!" I hurried over to Anders and dragged him into the parlor. "Anders, please meet Daniella. She was a friend of Zevran's."
"Ah… I was wondering why..." Anders looked at me, then turned his attention to Daniella. "Pleased to meet you, Daniella." He extended a hand and Daniella gracefully put hers into his.
"The pleasure is mine," she said. I noticed her gaze rather boldly raked him, as if she were evaluating his future as an underwear model. It reminded me sharply of another Antivan, one whose glance could strip you naked and was either followed by highly inappropriate lustful remark or a scornful turn of his lips, depending on who you were.
There was a moment of confused silence as we three looked at one another.
"Ah, I nearly forgot," Daniella said. "There's the matter of the things Zevran wanted you to have." She reached for her bag and dug out a pair of very familiar looking daggers, housed in their elaborately styled sheathes.
I knew those daggers well. "The Rose's Thorn and Serpent's Tooth," I muttered and the tears began again. The Thorn was a dagger I purchased for him in Orzammar and the Serpent's Tooth was a heavily enchanted Crow dagger he had named. The sheathes, I'd had commissioned. One was decorated with roses and the other with snakes.
My hand flew to my mouth and I closed my eyes remembering him with those daggers strapped to his back and how carefully he cared for them. More than anything, this brought home the fact that he was gone.
Anders crossed the parlor as if to come comfort me, but Daniella beat him to it. Once again she folded me into a gentle hug, murmuring comforting things. When I stopped sobbing she pulled me back to the sofa and we sat again.
"He told me that you should use these daggers and keep them with you always. He also said I should make sure your skills weren't getting rusty." Here she paused and fixed me with a piercing look. "Mia cara, have you kept your fighting skills up?"
I flushed a little and looked away. "Well, with the baby and the factory—not really, to be honest."
"Tsk, tsk! Zevran was always concerned about your safety. I will take it upon myself, with your permission, to resume your training. Yes?"
"I think that would be a good idea," Anders said, smiling winningly at Daniella. "Honey, don't you think you could carve out an hour each day to train with Daniella?"
Irritation made my scalp prickle as my temper flared. I hadn't been kidding when I said I was busy. "Anders, darling," I said, using that tone of voice. "What do I take out of my schedule? Your lessons in you-know-what?" I didn't like to talk about our shape-shifting lessons in front of people. "My work at the factory? My time with Danny?"
"The factory managed without you for a year. You need to give your factory manager more credit. He's done a fine job," he said. "I'd feel better knowing your fighting skills are still sharp. Maker knows you've had to use them often enough."
Daniella squeezed my hand and nodded. "He speaks sense. Think of what Zevran would say."
I was beaten with that. I could practically hear Zevran chiding me into practicing more. He could really make himself a pain in the butt when he felt I wasn't training enough. Back then, I was a little irritated by it, but now I'd give almost anything to have his sweet, flirtatious nagging back.
"All right, you two win. I will get back to my training again. It never hurts to have a backup method in case a templar puts one of those anti-magic collars on me." I shivered, remembering the templars I'd barely escaped months ago.
"Very wise," Daniella said.
Anders smiled warmly at me and then our conversation lapsed and we all looked at one another in a long awkward moment. I leapt to my feet. "Forgive me, Daniella. I don't know where my manners are. You've come here all the way from Antiva. Would you like to stay with us? We've got plenty of room here at the Warden compound. We were just going to have supper and I'd be honored if you would join us." I cast a quick glance at Anders thinking I should probably have asked him first, but then again… Naw, I outranked him.
"Thank you, Lucia. I will take you up on the offer. Perhaps I can take in the sights while I am here. Will you show me around your lovely city? I understand you have a—I do not know the word, a fabbrica… a place you make things."
"A factory? Yes. I'd love to show it to you." I stood and so did Daniella and I walked her, arm in arm, to the dining room. I had a feeling we might become good friends.
~o~o~o~
I was admittedly out-of-shape compared to my wardening days. Soaked in sweat, my back pressed against the wall, Daniella's blunted dagger rested gently against the artery in my neck. Her black hair blew about us in the wind and her lively black eyes snapped with some emotion I couldn't quite place.
"Ah, Lucia, it seems I have you again."
Her eyes flickered to my lips and wandered back up to meet my own. She didn't seem to be in any hurry to reset our match. She had me pinned against the wall and it felt like an immense static field was building up around us.
I glanced at the fence where Anders was sitting watching us spar. He had an almost eager look frozen on his face as he watched us.
The world seemed to hang, suspended in time, only Daniella and I were moving—and the wind. It was a windy day.
For two weeks now, she had been training me and every day some small touch, or look, suggested that she wanted me for a completely different sort of physical activity. I was getting more nervous about spending time with her, especially alone. I was just going to have to be direct and tell her I didn't swing that way.
Except it would be a lie. Truthfully, I wouldn't have missed one of these training sessions for the second coming of Andraste.
And now, here we were suspended in time, with Anders watching, as her lips came down on mine in a kiss. Her fingers feathered against the nape of my neck as she teased my lips with her own, nipping, licking, gently coaxing me further into abandonment of my inhibitions of doing this with another woman.
"Lucia," she moaned against my lips. "I long for you."
I could only groan in repressed sexual desire. My lover was watching me as I was being unfaithful with a woman. My eyes reluctantly shifted away from Daniella's dark beauty to my mage watching us.
"No," I moaned. "I can't, Daniella." At the same time I reached out and pulled her against me.
"Can't." I whispered. "This is wrong."
"What is wrong?"
My eyes cracked open to see Anders propped up in bed looking at me with a gleam in his eye.
"Wait, what?" I looked around the room and realized I'd been asleep and dreaming a very real-seeming dream.
"You were moaning in your sleep. Very erotically, I might add. Then you began to writhe like a cat in heat." His smile twisted into a sly look. "That didn't seem like a darkspawn dream. Or if it was, you're way kinkier than even I knew."
"Hmmm," I said, turning over to look at him, "Not a darkspawn dream. I dreamed of…" I paused, wondering how Anders would react, "Well, it was a sex dream."
"All right, kind of guess that," he murmured, nuzzling my ear. "Details, woman. Did it involve pouring warm honey on your breasts? Because… I had that dream a while back."
"Well, no, Anders. It didn't involve food. And, um, you weren't in it." I paused a moment when his face fell and then remember he did have a bit part. "Oh wait, no you were there watching, with keen interest, I might add."
"Watching, huh?" His hands swarmed under the covers, converging on a thigh. "Tell me, what was I watching? And who was I watching?"
I flushed, as much from his hands gliding up my thigh and across my belly, as from embarrassment. "Well, you see, it was Daniella and me. We were sparring, like we do every day, only she pinned me against the compound wall and began to kiss me. Maker…" I trailed off, remembering the forbidden hotness of that kiss. I'd never done that with a woman and certainly hadn't gone to the place Dream Daniella was angling to take me.
From between my breasts, where Anders had his head buried, I heard a chortle. "I thought you said you weren't attracted to women? Although, I can hardly fault you. She is something else."
"I'm not—ordinarily. But she's been oozing sensuality in the weeks she's been here. She reminds me of Zevran in that way. Very flirty. I feel like every time she looks at me she's mentally undressing me and throwing me on the sofa." I laughed a little nervously, curious at my own reaction to her. "It must be an Antivan thing. I haven't met all that many Antivans but they always seem to be on the prowl in that way."
"Hm."
His hand tracked up my inner thigh and brushed lightly against my sex, a finger taking stock of the humidity in the region.
"Should I be jealous? Or turned on?" he asked.
"Mmmm, turned on. It was just a crazy dream. But I think I'm going to have a hard time going back to sleep unless…" I cut myself short by pushing Anders on his back and straddling him. "Mama needs some sugar."
I could see the flash of his grin in the dark. "The candy store is open, mama."
"Good. I want your peppermint stick."
The conversation ended and we both forgot about what it was that had awoken me.
~o~o~o~
His palms itched for the feel of his daggers. Anders—she loved him; that was obvious. When the mage was whispering whatever obscene things were making her laugh, a cold numbness gripped him. Not hot-blooded rage; that was trained out of Crows. This was the instinct to wait and watch, like a cat waiting quietly and patiently at a gopher hole. When the mage swung Danny onto his shoulder and brought a torrent of giggles from him, his killing instinct tugged at him. The mage had usurped his place.
But how could he resent anyone who made her as happy as this mage did? The last few weeks he and Lucy had bonded as only two women can, sharing stories of their lives—although his were invented—their loves, their heartbreaks. He was both one of those loves, and one of those heartbreaks. When she looked out into the distance, eyes glittering with unshed tears and spoke of Zevran, he wanted to confess his masquerade and end this game. But the mage made her happy. How could he take away yet another person she loved? She had lost too much.
It was only a matter of days before he realized he had no right to reclaim a part of her life, but he couldn't make himself leave. At night he climbed out onto the roof of the Warden compound and watched the stars, resolving that he would leave the next day. But Danny would wrap a chubby hand around his finger and his resolve would evaporate, or Lucy would give him a smile and a friendly hug, and he'd catch a whiff of her scent. Each time he would put it off a few more days.
Besides, Lucia needed whipping into shape. Pah! It was shameful how her fighting skills had deteriorated. Complacent. She'd grown far too content, too slow, too trusting. You can't trust life. Around every corner is someone who wants something you have and is willing to kill for it. This was life as he knew it, and trouble always swirled around her. Magic had its place, but in his experience it was unreliable. He decided he would work with her until she improved substantially.
"Faster!" he called to her as she went through the choreographed patterns of movement. "One, two, and three." He clapped his hands at the tempo he wanted her to follow. Zevran rose, shaking his head. "No, no. Too slow! Keep the pace up."
His pupil slashed viciously at the air to the front, then fell away into a ready stance, anticipating her invisible adversary's next move, but she turned her head toward him and glared. "I'm doing the best I can!"
Zevran almost laughed and relented, but for her own good he didn't. "You're a dead woman, Lucia." He threw up his hands and put them back on his hips. He had been particularly hard on her today, but she wasn't improving as fast as she should be—as fast as he wanted her to.
With eyes smoldering like black coals and face rigid with anger, the air began to shimmer around her. "I've got your fast right here," she growled. Suddenly she was right next to him, blunted dagger stroking his throat. "Now tell me I'm not fast enough."
Dripping with sweat, her hair escaping from her braids, still piqued by his stinging commentary on her performance, she was glorious. "Ragazza," he said, in his most sultry Daniella voice, "you are many things: Gorgeous, talented, desirable, but sadly, you are also too slow." He raised his hand and put his finger gently under her chin. Wanting to kiss her he slowly moved closer, watching her eyes widen with surprise and—could it be desire? How intriguing. But at the last moment he lightly bussed her cheek with his lips.
"Crow women know they have to sacrifice their tits and asses for the speed they need. Perhaps you should cut back on the chow a little, hm? Eat enough for three instead of four?"
What possessed him to say that? It came from a place of hurt; that he couldn't kiss her as she needed to be kissed right now. It was the realization that he had been lingering here too long, perhaps hoping for exactly this moment when Lucy would be sorely tempted by him… or rather, Daniella. But under all the false hope, he knew the pain she would feel betraying her mage lover, and that was what drove him to make the catty remark.
Lucy pulled away looking like she'd just been slapped, her mouth gaping in disbelief. "You… you… Did you just say I'm fat?"
Her voice rose to an octave above normal, a range Zevran knew well. This was his Lucia with hurt pride and in a high dudgeon. In another moment she'd storm away unless he soothed her, stroked her bruised ego, or turned what she perceived as an insult into a complement and then seduced her. That was always fun. She was always her best in bed when she was half angry. No. He wouldn't get to take advantage of her anger-fueled energy; the mage would.
It was a strange moment to finally understand that he had delayed too long. A part of him had clung to hope that something would change and she would be free of the mage—free to be his. He was a fool.
"Not fat, cara. You are perfection. I was being overzealous. I forget you are not a Crow hatchling. You're a Grey Warden, entirely different and just as deadly." He turned away from her and scanned his surroundings out of habit, and to avoid her eyes. "Perhaps we should stop for the day, yes?"
"What is it?" Lucy's anger was fading and she looked puzzled now. "Are you all right?"
"I am fine." The smile that stretched across his face felt false. "I must apologize, Lucia. You've actually improved a lot. I wish I could stay longer and continue to train you, but it is time for me to leave. There are things I must do. I have put them off too long."
"But… you can't just leave like that." Lucy looked bewildered, even sad. "I'm sorry. I'll work harder at my training and you're right. I haven't been attending to it like I should. Maker, if anyone should know I need to keep up with it, it should be me. Those templars…"
He closed his eyes a moment and let the music of her voice wash over him. "No, it isn't that. You should continue to train, but it is time I left."
"Daniella?"
Her voice sounded hurt and puzzled, but he turned away from her and began to walk back to the compound. The sound of Lucy running to catch him soon followed. She gripped his arm and stopped him.
"Will you at least stay one more evening? We can have a nice supper, throw back a few drinks, and maybe reminisce about Zevran once more?"
He stopped, turned to her and nodded. "One more night, bella."
Something in his face made Lucy stop following him and her expression turned to sadness. Perhaps subconsciously she had recognized him and so by his leaving she was losing him again. The handsome mage would be there to comfort her. He seemed like a fine man, devoted to her and Danny, with an irreverent sense of humor he knew she would appreciate.
Yes, Lucia would be fine.
And he—well, this time he could truly tackle the impossible. Perhaps he would kill Ignacio, or try to kill him. His chances of succeeding were miniscule, of course, but it would be a fun way to go. For one last time he could count the bodies and glory in his scorekeeping until he finally fell. He didn't have any desire to try to start life over somewhere else. Offering his services to a ruler would be anticlimactic after the Blight and the Crow war.
He undressed slowly, watching himself in the mirror. He no longer saw Daniella, just himself as he was without the glamour: a man disguised as a woman. Granted, he was credible looking, even without the spell, but his arms were too thick, and his bosom not thick enough. His jaw was too wide, and his neck was too thick. Once he left Denerim there would be no more need for this disguise. It would be a relief to be himself once again.
Lucy
I readily confess to being rather sad and out-of-sorts that evening. I could see the same emotion reflected in Daniella's mood. Anders kept trying to jolly us out of the funk we'd descended into on the last night of her visit. He plied us both with drinks until I was quite tipsy and spilling some of the more inane stories of the Blight.
"Did I ever tell you about how Zevran taught Alistair to kiss?" I said. My funk had mellowed into a slight downer, tinged with silliness, and wrapped in just a hint of irony.
"King Alistair?" Anders asked. "Our King Alistair?"
"Yup. Although back then he was just Alistair, or Ali-bear. Quite the prude and ever so innocent."
"That sounds like Zevran," Daniella said. "No one's virtue was safe from him. No templar, and certainly no Chantry sister."
"So how did he do it?" Anders asked. His curiosity truly piqued now.
"Well," I said, settling back in my chair and staring into the fire. The memories of the Blight came back. Funny how now I could conjure them up and my losses didn't sting as much. I poured myself another drink and noted the bottle was empty, so I laid it on its side and gave it a spin.
"Spin-the-bottle, actually. It was the night after the Landsmeet where I had dueled Arl Howe. We all got drunk and I confess most of the night is hidden in a fog of drunken amnesia. But reliable sources tell me that I taught my friends the adolescent kissing game and Zevran taught Alistair to kiss."
Daniella's eyebrow arched elegantly as she looked at me. "And who did you kiss?"
"Yes. Spill it, Lucy." Anders looked highly interested in the topic.
"Well, I don't actually remember that, but Riordan suggested I'd tried to suck his face off." My foolish face went hot with the memory. I would never forget how powerfully attracted I'd been to Riordan. Sure, drunk or not, I'd have probably leapt at the opportunity.
Anders reached across the table and took the bottle. "So you spin it and kiss who it points to?" He gave it an experimental twist and it began rotating. It slowed and then stopped, pointing to me.
"Yes. Of course, we added the rule that if it didn't point to anyone you had to take a shot of brandy."
"Shall we play?" Anders said, looking at me with a goofy mix of expressions: something like challenge combined with wide-eyed, puppy-dog begging.
"I'm game," Daniella said, looking at me expectantly.
This wasn't the Blight. I wasn't a middle-aged woman newly reborn into twenty-year-old woman's body with the excessive horniness of the Grey Warden—I still had that, but my self-control was better these days. I had a son. I was respectable. I wasn't carrying on like I expected the world to end any day. So what can I blame for my answer? It depends on how honest I wanted to be with myself. The easy answer was 'It's the booze.' The more nuanced answer was 'I want to,' but heavily laden with flimsy reasons on why it was okay and actually a good idea. From experience, I knew that I'd get around to filling out all those reasons why and would eventually make it sound fairly valid to my own ears. For the moment though, I wasn't thinking quite that critically.
"Then according to the rules, Anders, you spun the bottle, you'd need to kiss me."
He got out of his chair and circled to where I sat in mine. I took his extended hand and he pulled me out of the chair into his arms.
"Let's see how you do this in Ferelden," Daniella said. Her eyes sparkled with amusement.
Anders seemed intent on trying to impress Daniella. I let him take the lead and he put all his considerable skill into the kiss. He even augmented the experience with some minor magic that made gentle sparks fly off his fingers as he trailed them down my neck.
We finally broke off the kiss to Daniella's slow applause. Anders sat down and passed the bottle to Daniella. The bottle went around our circle again before the bottle actually pointed to a person and our Antivan house-guest finally had to kiss me. With a smile tinged by smugness, she pulled me out of my chair and into her arms with the same sort of intensity she did everything. There was just a moment of hesitation as her lips approached mine and she whispered, "Close your eyes, cara." Maybe she had sensed the little bit of trepidation I was feeling. I'd never kissed a woman before…well, not like this.
Obeying her, I shut my eyes. There seemed to be a long moment and then just the slightest brush of her lips against mine. I thought she was teasing me, making a big buildup just to leave me with a bare grazing of lips, but then they were back, a light kiss at the corner of my mouth and a quick scrape of teeth against my bottom lip. I was leaning toward her, my eyes still closed, hoping my more.
The third time I could feel her breath hot against my lips, waiting. That was when reality shifted. Could we have senses so subtle that they have never been defined? Isn't it possible there are pheromone receptors in our nostrils, or lips, and some part of the brain is dedicated to the processing and recognition of a mate? Whatever the reason, when her lips met mine I felt the presence of Zevran so keenly that it could have been him kissing me. I kept my eyes closed to preserve the illusion, but tears seeped out the sides anyway.
I melted into her, my arms held her as close as they possibly could trying to keep the illusion cemented by physical contact. She responded in kind, pulling me closer and kissing me deeper. I thought perhaps the oddly unreal illusion would go away but it only grew stronger. That! Right there, the way his… her… tongue slid across mine, the hand dropping from my waist to my hip then pulling me. I could practically feel his growing excitement. What?
Then she jumped away from me and I from her. My eyes flew open and she was staring at me with his amber-brown eyes.
"Ladies?" Anders said sounding a little aggrieved at being so completely forgotten.
I barely heard Anders. His amber eyes? Daniella has dark brown eyes, almost black. You could barely distinguish the pupil from the iris. Yet they were most certainly another color now. That was when I noticed a dozen other details: Daniella had a thick neck, large hands, not much of a waist, and no cleavage.
"Ladies!" Anders said, alarm growing in his voice. "What's going on?"
"Lady," I mumbled, unable to move my eyes, still trying to make sense of what my eyes were trying to tell me but my intellect was unable to accept.
Daniella did nothing but stare at me with the wrong eyes, awaiting my next move.
"Lucy? What is wrong…"
I cut him short. "There's only one woman in this room." That jaw… I'd nibbled on that jaw. I had kissed my way down that neck. What was wrong with me? Why hadn't I noticed it before this?
Anders got up and joined us, looking at her critically. "Have you lost your mind, Lucy?"
"Tsk, tsk," a familiar voice said, one I thought I'd never hear again. "That is no way to talk to the most desirable woman in all of Thedas." Daniella reached up to her throat and yanked at her necklace. It broke and she… he casually threw it on the table.
"Andraste's knickers…" Anders favorite oath trailed off in mid-curse.
My hands flew to my mouth and I stared at him, my mind still unable to process anything.
"A glamour. A fucking glamour," Anders said. He picked up the amulet and examined it closely. "A damned good one. I've never seen such a powerful illusion spell."
"The Crows can afford the best magic available. Even forbidden magics," Zevran said. He looked at me, his eyes softening with concern. "Lucia…"
The realization that he had nearly left without revealing himself, allowing me continue to believe he was dead, punctured my dazed mind. That thought was followed by anger. How could he? I lashed out with my hand and struck him across the cheek. "You jerk! You complete and utter jerk!"
I could see him watching the trajectory of my hand and he never bothered to dodge the blow, taking the force of it. It left a red handprint on his cheek.
"I am sorry, mi amore. I should not have come. Better to let you think I am dead than to disrupt your life like this. I wanted to see our… to see Daniel, to see you one last time. It was selfish of me. I knew better."
"No!" This defeated man/woman in front of me was Zevran? He had somehow survived his trip to Antiva just to give up now? To part from me forever? "You can't. You survived whatever happened and you're going to run away and hide? From Daniel and me?" I whirled around to look at Anders and saw him change before my eyes. From bemused, to puzzled, and now his face echoed the same defeat I saw in Zevran's.
"I'm the intruder here," he said softly. "I always knew this day might come. Well, at least until we heard you were dead. I'll pack my things in the morning. I'm sure they've still got room for me at the Vigil."
"Goddammit, Anders!" I ran my hands through my hair, pulling on it with my frustration until it escaped its tie and blossomed into a shrub. "No!"
Zevran was starting to look more like a drag queen as my brain resolved the illusion into reality. Then it hit me, his tattoo was gone. That graceful double-swoop that followed his cheekbones down to his chin was completely missing. I reached out a hand to trace where it should have been. His hand came up to capture mine and he closed his eyes for a moment as if relishing my touch and embossing it onto his memory forever.
"Ah, this is an interesting situation," he said lightly, his voice now sounding exactly like I remembered, even tinged with his sense of irony. "It reminds me of a time when I had my knife to the throat of an enemy and someone else had a loaded crossbow pointed at my back. A Rivaini stand-off they call it. Fortunately for me, there was a fourth person no one saw who lobbed a fireball." He sighed heavily. "Although this is much less violent."
"Maker, Zevran." I started to cry, despite my intention to stay stoic. "Why did you let me believe you were dead? Why didn't you write? Why…" I hiccupped with a particularly loud sob, unable to finish.
"Cara, please. Don't be angry. I would have written if it were possible, but I feared they might decide to go after you and the baby again to get to me. I had to die. They needed to think I was gone. After that I became Daniella, and Ignacio and I fought our way to the top. They will never bother us again. I trust Ignacio, at least that far."
"I just can't believe—You're alive, Zevran!" Suddenly I was laughing and crying. I threw myself into his arms and sobbed into his neck. "I should have known you'd find a way."
"Ah, my Lucia, not even I knew that." He stroked my hair and kissed my cheek. "I nearly died, more than once. That I could live to return to you and Daniel, I never would have believed possible."
"That fortune-teller was right, Zev. You're going to live to be an old man." I remembered him telling me that story one night around the camp fire. My heart sang. In a way, having Zevran back was almost like having Riordan back too. He was my connection to everything that had happened in the Blight: our successes, our losses, and our eventual victory over the archdemon.
In the emotional tsunami, I had forgotten about Anders. When Zevran kissed me again, I remembered. Turning around to look for him, I saw that he was gone. Reality slapped me even more viciously than I had slapped Zevran. I was going to lose someone I loved and there was no getting around it. Even worse, I had to make the decision.
~o~o~o~
Notes: Phew! Going back and forth between my two stories is really hard. I don't make the shift easily. Anyway, I've been super busy lately. I'm having issues with my back and I'm doing MRIs, physical therapy, and so on. I'm often too exhausted at the end of the day to write and I got out of the habit.
If there's one thing that I know makes the muse disappear it is inconsistency. So I'm going to try very hard to write more consistently. I won't promise anything, but I think I'll stay with this story until I'm finished. I'm very close!
My thanks to Biff for beta-reading! Woo hoo! And Zevgirl for being my buddy, Biff too for that matter.
And a special thanks to xKimathyx, CynderJenn, Penelore, ShadowDmn, Shi, Aynslesa, rubberleg, AndAgain, Arsinoe de Blassenville, tgcgoddess, KatDancer2, Biff and Zevgirl, for taking the time to review.
Translations
testa di cazzo - dickhead
cara - dear
Mia cara - my dear
fabbrica - factory