Sorry for the long wait/long chapter. This one just did not want to come out the way I wanted it. That and I procrastinate.
This was utterly ridiculous. Giving herself a firm mental shake, Elspeth reached for the door handle once again—and again her hand dropped to her side. With a small growl of frustration, she turned away from the door and resumed pacing her room. She bit her lip and gazed thoughtfully at the door. She had never been one of those girls who sighed over knights in shining armor and dreamed of gowns and weddings; and beyond one awkward and embarrassing kiss that she and Rory Gilmore had sworn never to speak of again, her experience with boys was virtually nonexistent.
But then… Zevran wasn't exactly a "boy", was he? He was a worldly, experienced man, and for all his flirting, a part of her was paralyzed with the fear that, if she ever did gather the courage to leave her room and invite him back to it, she would receive nothing more than a mocking smile and a pat on the head for her troubles. Elspeth sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She would speak to him, she told herself. Because she had to. Because anything—even derision and rejection—was better than being stuck here, trapped in a borrowed bedroom in Arl Eamon's estate by her own fear. That decided, she gritted her teeth and reached out again. This time her hand made it to the door handle and turned. The door swung open to reveal Zevran standing in the hallway, his hand raised as if to knock. Elspeth stopped breathing. What was he doing here? He wasn't supposed to be here! She wasn't ready for him to be here yet! She stood frozen to the spot, one hand still on the door, staring blankly at him.
Zevran was the first to speak. "May I come in?" he asked mildly, ignoring Elspeth's look of shock.
She blushed furiously. "Oh! Um. Yes," she stammered, stepping backwards out of the doorway to let him through.
He walked into the room, his eyes fixed on something in his hands. After toying with the thing a moment longer, he seemed to come to a decision. "Here," he said shortly, holding it out to her.
Automatically she held out her hand, and he dropped something small and shining into it. "It seems an appropriate moment to give you this," His voice sounded almost hesitant.
Elspeth blinked at the object. "An earring?"
He smiled reminiscently. "Taken from my first ever mark with the Crows. A… trophy if you will. I always have it on me somewhere; you hadn't noticed?"
"No," she said softly, running one finger along the smooth metal curve. It almost sounded as if… But no. If there was one thing Zevran was not, it was sentimental. He could not afford to be. He had already explained that to her.
So then why did…?
"You… want to give it to me?" Maybe he could tell her what he meant by it.
He held up a hand. "Now don't get the wrong idea about it. You killed Taliesin. As far as the Crows will be concerned, I died with him. That means I'm free, at least for now. Feel free to sell it, or wear it… or whatever you'd like. It's really the least I could give you in return."
That made more sense. Sort of. Elspeth smiled and shook her head, offering the trinket back to him. "You don't need to thank me for that. And you certainly don't need to give me your earring."
Zevran reached out and gently curled her fingers back over the earring. "I…" he stopped, staring at her hand inside of his, as if searching for words. After a moment he shook his head sharply. "Look, just… just take it. It's meant a lot to me but so have…" his voice caught, but he recovered himself quickly and went on, "so has what you've done. Please," his fingers slid away from hers, "take it."
"All right," She had the feeling there was more to this than he was telling her, but if it was so important to him… "I promise I'll take good care of it."
He smiled. "I have no better way to say it. Thank you."
She sat down on the edge of the bed and held the earring up, watching the firelight play in the gem. "So this mark of yours…?"
He sat beside her, grinning. "Was a Rivaini merchant prince. He was wearing a single jeweled earring when I killed him… and not much of anything else."
Elspeth smiled mischievously. "And what were you wearing?" she asked, a little surprised at her own boldness.
Zevran chuckled. "My boots," he stretched out one leg to examine the Antivan boots she had given him. "They were not so nice as these, but a good pair of boots can be hard to come by. I like to hang on to them when I can."
She shook her head. "Princes, mages, Grey Wardens… I guess you don't meet many normal people in your line of work."
"No," he agreed. "Aside from the occasional mother-in-law, there's not much demand for the assassination of normal people. I did kill a grocer once though," he added thoughtfully.
"A grocer?" Elspeth laughed incredulously. "What was he doing? Selling people poisoned cabbages?"
"I never could get a straight answer about that," he replied with a shrug. "I believe he was either cheating his customers or competing with the wrong person for business. Possibly both. He was very paranoid—had been taking poison for years in small doses, so he was immune to everything I tried to use on him. Worse than a cockroach. Eventually I had to just cut his throat. The blood completely ruined my favorite shirt," he added, looking sad.
Elspeth bit back another laugh. "Oh dear…Wait…A cockroach?" She looked confused.
He nodded. "You can pour concentrated venom straight on them and they don't even notice. You didn't know that?"
"Um, no," she admitted. "I've never tried pouring venom on a cockroach."
"It's a demonstration they make all the Crow apprentices watch," he explained. "To show that even the smallest and weakest of targets may be able to resist the usual methods. One must know how to be… flexible."
Zevran did not know how long they sat and talked before Elspeth drifted off to sleep in mid-sentence, her head resting comfortably against his shoulder. He gave a soft snort of self-mockery. Here he was, perhaps the most feared assassin and the most skilled lover in Thedas, and she slept in his arms completely unafraid and fully clothed. He must be losing his touch—and possibly his mind. Leaning back against the pillows slowly so as not to disturb Elspeth, he pressed a too-tender kiss to her brow and sighed. This was utterly ridiculous.