Authors Note: Hallo! As always, don't own Dragon Age nor do I claim any use other than pure entertainment of its properties, etc, etc. The next few chapters are 'move alnog chapters' and for that reason, are quite shorter than they should be. We are still with our favorite Antivan Rogue, and I hope you enjoy this rather quiet chapter. Please Read and Review and let me know what you think, and thank you to my friends and beta-readers for keeping me on the right track.

Chapter 4

The warm rays of the Antivan sun woke him. Like every other night he had fallen asleep in the chair next to her bedside. It had been a pleasant dream, a memory of a stolen kiss in the Brecilian Forests. She had to have realized how right it felt, how her body fit against his like a puzzle piece, how they tasted, how they kissed...But like always, she would break the kiss before it threatened to go any further, and retreat to the tent she shared with the human knight. Maker's balls, they shared much more than being Wardens did! They were elves, their histories, their parents...Damnit, he had her first, back when he first joined their camp, back when he first saw her for the young frightened thing she was, needy and fragile. She had shown him mercy and he had intended to do the same, coaxing the story of her failed wedding to another elf, how a different sort of blood had been shed that night and she had emerged a changed woman. He remembered her bitter laugh at the irony of the situation. How in both cases a human had taken her from her home, changed her. When Sylrien spoke of it, there had been a gleam in those grey eyes of her. It had reminded him of cold steel, of justice.

Zevran had wooed her with with words he had spoken to many a woman before, inviting her to his tent and teaching her what being a woman really meant. Afterwards, when the panting had subsided and as she lay quivering and gasping, her head swimming in the first experience of unadulterated bliss, when the pain had lessened and turned into unbelievable pleasure, she asked him about love.

Something had passed between them, some spark, and her question woke him to the fact she felt it too. That was dangerous, so he told her exactly what he thought about love in his coldest voice. He saw her flinch, felt her tense up in their embrace, but still he kept talking. When he had finished, when he finally loosened his grip around her, he watched with an empty sense of satisfaction as she dressed quickly and left. She did not come back to his tent the next night, and she took the late watch for the rest of the week. They had arrived at Redcliffe soon after, and that boy, that human had been at her side constantly, showing her the village and the castle. Zevran noticed how each time he tried to talk to her, there was always someone else, someone who would ask something of her before they could actually speak. He wasn't sure what he would say to her, but he had to say something to smooth over the rift that he had created between them. She did not deserve such treatment, he had been too cruel.

Wynne, Leliana, and Alistair were the worst of them as her self appointed guardians from the 'wicked Crow'. Morrigan and Sten had no patience and paid no mind to their little intrigues. He was certain that when she first began to share a tent with the knight, their vigil had ended. When he was finally able to talk to her unharassed, she had smiled softly and told him she did not begrudge him anything, thanked him for the experience. Syl had leaned over and pecked his cheek in a chaste manner, apologizing to *him* for her actions. While he laughed and called her a seductive minx, as they had carried on as if they were the closest of friends, ("No, we are friends," Sylrien had told him, before showing him a pair of leather boots, Antivan boots, purchased from who knows where. "You are far from home, as I am. Neither of us can return. Let us share in our misery together?" He had smirked, told her about other things they could share to dispell such sour moods. He immediately saw that he had cut her with such a remark, the wound was still fresh. He hastily apologized and gave her much praise for the thoughtful gift.) he could still not forget that electrictiy, that chemistry that surged through them both at every intimate touch.

Still he knew she had not been with Alistair yet. One could tell when a boy (how could he have ever been called a man caused Zevran great wonder) like Alistair had his first woman, and it was some time later that he saw that bounce in his step or that look in his eye. That was when he had suggested various roots and herbs to enhance the boy's performance. Perhaps Alistair had picked up on his true intent- they would have not had their intended effect, Zevran would have made sure of that - because he seemed so intent on not hearing Zevran. Sylrien had the luck to be passing by them as they trudged down the road, and quipped that "Not all men are loud lovers, Zev..." Before continuing to speak to Sten at the head of their 'train'. Alistair had blushed and Zevran could only laugh. He wondered if she even realized how her smart mouth only kindled the flames of jealousy he felt for the human.

But there was no use in dwelling on the past. She was with him now, and he would find a way to wake her, and then he would make her happy and put all thought of human kings far from her mind. As he went about preparing for a long day of reviewing contracts and accepting the bids on new marks, he marveled at how management suited his new-found role and caretaker. It allowed his people the chance to compete against each-other and aspire to...some greater heights than they might if he were still interested in getting his hands dirty. Another smirk spread across his lips as he bound his hair in a neat braid, drawing aside the curtain to their bedroom, looking out over his ward.
"My dear, I go to bring home the bacon, or whatever type of dead animal you would prefer-"

She was not there. The sheets lay twisted in heap at the foot of the bed and a pair of his boots were missing. His eyes widened and he started for the door nearly shouting as he opened it. "Did you see her leave? Did you see a woman walk past here?!" He grabbed at the guards collar as others peeked their heads out of windows and doors. "Where did she go? I swear that I will...." The hiss of a dagger escaping its sheathe cut the sounds of the busy street, soon held to a hapless man's throat. "I...I....I...." The thug stuttered, pointing past Zevran's shoulder. "We didn't know we had to stop her, boss..." Another stammered. 'We've seen lots of women leave your place..." The scene drew more spectators, more of his people left their apartments to see what had riled their leader so. Suddenly a voice cut through the crowd, crystal clear. "Zevran?"

There she was, in broad daylight, standing in front of him and looking at him with those grey eyes. "You were...you were asleep. And I was so hungry, I had left to get some food-" There she stood, in oversized boots and a costume fit for a noblewoman. What she was saying did not matter. She was speaking and looking at him and reaching out to him with one arm as she held a basket in another. He took her hand with his own, grabbed her wrist with the other and pulled her, no, he yanked her to him. Sylrien yelped out in surprise and in pain, but he didn't care. He held her tightly, buried his face in her hair and did not speak for a long while. Finally his grip loosened and she drew back. Looking up at him with a detached sense of wonder, she began tracing his features with her fingers. "I....I know this face. But it has changed somewhat. Zevran, what has happened? Where am I?" Her whispers were laced with uncertainty and concern, concern for him. The corners of his lips twitched upwards into a smirk.

"You've forgotten so soon, lovely Sylrien? We were madly in love and ran away to the farthest corners of the earth-well, we were going to, and then my boots wore out and you complained about the heat so we changed plans and decided to have a go at domesticity among the cabals of assassins and thieves and the like in fair Antiva. Woman, I swear you will be the end of me!"