Authors Note: Please, this chapter is rated T, for suggestive sexual scenes. If the powers that be think it qualifies for an M rating, please let me know. That being said, finally, Zevran does what he really does best. Thank you friends and beta-readers for your opinions, comments and suggestions, for making sure that this all flows right. It's a shorter chapter, but sometimes the most important things are actions, rather than words.

Chapter 5: Waking Up

Twelve years, she thought. She had been dead for twelve years. Looking at her hands, she could only marvel at the fact that once, these hands had wasted away to bone. How much of the world had changed in so long a time? Zevran had filled in some of the blanks, informed her of many things: Alistair as king in Ferelden, the passing of Wynne, the whispers of an invasion from Sten's people...She had seen the changes etched on his face. His sharp features had been dulled slightly by time, giving him an almost noble coutenance...A smile grew across her lips. She had teased him about it, being an older man. He had laughed and swung his arm around her, scooped her into a tight embrace. But strangely enough, he made no further move, no whispers of things he could do to her, no stolen kisses or suggestive glances. Instead he never left her side for those first few days. When he grew tired he would lead her wordlessly to his bed, sink onto the mattress with his arms wrapped around her tightly. "I don't want to wake up..." He would say, "And find you gone. And find this all a dream. Please, just stay with me." She couldn't refuse him, so the long evening hours passed with her idly stroking his hair, his head nestled in the crook of her shoulder. Only on the fourth night did her eyes finally grow heavy, and she gave in to sleeps embrace only after he assured her that there would be a morning after, that she would wake up. He wouldn't let anything prevent her from doing otherwise. It had been...pleasant.

But the warm days in Antiva had to end. The more time she spent in the waking world, the more she realized exactly what had happened and what she must do. On the fifth day, as her eyes opened to see him looking down at her, his fingers idly tracing embroidery on her sleeve, she could only shake her head. "You know this cannot last. I must go home." He flinched at her words, gripping her arm and squeezing it slightly. "Is it so unpleasant here? Anything your heart desires, I can give you. I am a man of some considerable means now." He smiled, though he knew it to be a futile effort as she replied. "No, there is business left unfinished...you know I should not be here. We both know this. My soul was destroyed, Zevran- bound to the Archdemon's. If I am whole and living...Each passing moment I realize that I was a side effect of the witch's plans. She..." Shaking her head, Sylrien rolled on her back, looking up at the ceiling. "There is much I must explain. The only thing I am sure of is that I am here because Flemeth wanted the essence of an Old God. To bring it back, she had to bring me back..." Looking down at her arms, she marveled at the smooth skin. Sylrien knew that a short time ago, they had been riddled with strange carvings and symbols. Where did they go? What purpose had they served?

Zevran watched her quietly. He knew it couldn't last forever but he had hoped it might. He did not fear the journey back nor did he mind that this was another grand quest of hers. The only thing that gave him pause was the idea of her being in his presence again. These past few days he had felt something grow between them, something sure and real and wonderful. She was cruel, with all her soft smiles and embraces, cruel to give him such attentions so freely, yet deny him the taste of her lips. While it had been beyond wonderful, it had been also been torture to have the flames of passion fed by every touch of hers, yet go unquenched. But he knew for sure that no matter what transpired between them, he would go with her. That had never been in doubt.
"Then one more day, Syl. Let us have one more day in this fleeting dreamworld, and then we will have the grand adventures to save the world and stop your witch. Just one more night..."

Sylrien looked at him for a few moments before nodding, leaning over to press her lips against his. The forward gesture drove him to press onward as his hands tightened around her arms, pulled her closer as their tongues met. "Then wake me up." She murmured, ordered him as they shifted about on the bed. This was meant to be, this was supposed to happen, he was sure of it. "Wake me up..." Again she spoke, needy and demanding. He flashed back to their first encounter, years ago when they had first shared a bed. His hands delighted in the expanses of skin exposed by the cut of her dress - how could she have ever worn leathers when silks suited her so much more? As her nails dug into his shoulders, he was reminded of where he was and who he was with. He felt her hands travel down his body, tug at straps and lacings as he tore away the silk that acted as a barrier between them. He explored her body with his hands first, then with his mouth, delighting in the sounds she made, urging him to drive her to gasp and moan his name. Her lips, he decided, as he nibbled and licked at her ear, were made for saying his name. If they were to leave Antiva, he would brand this night into her memory, just as he would commit her body to his. Zevran was a man dying of thirst, and she was the only thing that could save him. All other thoughts were driven from his mind as they finally joined and lost themselves in eachother. The day passed into night and still they could not part. Few words were spoken besides cries of names and single words to spur the other on, but so much seemed to be said. When she finally collapsed against his chest, covered in sweat and worn out from their daylong exertions, as he felt her heart beating and fluttering against his own....He'd follow her to hell and back. Even hells that smelled of wet dogs and rotting garbage, no matter how many witches or boy-kings stood in his way.