Rhodri did carry Zevran back to her tent after dinner– which was a hurried affair in itself. So eager was he that Zevran sped through his meal and cleared his plate before anyone else. Rhodri, upon noticing this, had nearly abandoned the last few mouthfuls of her dinner to cart him off until Zevran, in an extraordinary triumph of self-control and commonsense over temptation, insisted that she finish eating first.

But finish she did, and as Rhodri scooped him up in her arms and strode them away from the campfire, Zevran looked over her shoulder and bid a cheery wave goodbye to Leliana and Alistair, who waved back with a smug wink between themselves.

There was something warming about returning to Rhodri's tent. Not that Zevran felt nothing for his own quarters; certainly, he had gotten things in his tent the way he liked them. Six months' travelling with the party had been long enough to acquire an interesting collection of ownerless (or requisitioned) books, tools, and other knick-knacks that had caught his eye. A striker he had found on the roof of their inn in Crestwood was the most prized of them, and was the second thing (his prayer beads were the first) to go into his pocket when dressing of a morning. By the head of his bedroll, he kept a curious dual-publication book, filched from a dusty corner of the Gnawed Noble Inn. The first half of the volume outlined various types of mending stitches (suitable for both body and fabrics, so the author advised), and the second half was a tepid copper-dreadful romance with suitably Fereldan (read: underwhelming) erotic scenes. And, of course, there was the treasure found on the edge of the Brecilian Forest, a copper bracelet with the inner-band engravement: "S- you had the hole of me from the beginning– love J." Zevran couldn't decide if 'hole' had been intentionally spelled thusly or not, and kept it for the chuckle it gave him whenever he saw it. These, and a few other things, were carefully placed throughout his tent and, Zevran felt, gave the interior a comfortably lived-in look. And, more importantly, that it had been lived in by him.

And he had lived in Rhodri's tent, too. For all of five nights, it had to be said, and a good five months ago now, but even so, coming back to it was as wonderful as coming back to his own. Perhaps even more so.

Not because of any particular attachment to the tent's owner, of course. Who wouldn't appreciate the flasks of lyrium glowing in the corner like a clear summer sky, night and day, no matter the weather? Or the handsome stack of well-thumbed books beside them, a sight that would have made eight-year-old Zevran ache with envy? And of course, the salt and starch that permeated the air was not to be overlooked– in fact, as Rhodri's arms floated Zevran through the flap and into the tent's cosy interior, it was the first thing he noticed, and he couldn't help but breathe it in deeply.

"You look pleased," Rhodri murmured to him warmly as she set him down on her bedroll.

Zevran swallowed down the reflexive unease of being caught out (as he ought! After all, wouldn't it put his lover at ease to know he was enjoying himself?) and shot her a saucy grin.

"I will be even more pleased when all these clothes are gone." He reached out before Rhodri could finish standing up, twining her collar between his fingers and pulling it aside enough to show a fraction more flesh. Rhodri paused, stooped over as she was. Her eyes darted down to his hand, throat bobbing as she swallowed thickly. Zevran chuckled, "Though I suppose we will not be discussing our rules in a state of undress, no?"

Rhodri arched a playful eyebrow at him. "And what do you think the answer to that is, domine?"

"Mmm… perhaps not, is my guess." He gave a melodramatic sigh as she nodded, and released her, "Ah, well. It was worth checking, at least."

She snorted and sat down cross-legged opposite him. On the far wall of the tent, Rhodri's silhouette, black against the gentle blue lyrium-glow, towered over Zevran's. How funny, Zevran pondered as he turned back to the flesh-and-blood person across from him, who didn't seem anywhere near as inaccessible, or imposing. There was barely a difference between him and her at all.

Zevran shot her a crooked little smile, which was enough for Rhodri to straighten up with one of her own.

"Right," she said with a firm nod. What, precisely, she was nodding about was anyone's guess, but she was satisfied all the same. "Well, before we start with rules, we should talk about safety."

"Safety, you say?" He chuckled, "You are not worried I will try to kill you now, are you?"

Rhodri waved a hand and shook her head far more seriously than necessary. "Absurditum. It's nothing to do with your background. If anything, mine is the risky one. A Magewarden isn't the easiest bedfellow, after all–" she quickly held her hands up, "but I'd like to put your mind at ease right now."

Zevran raised his eyebrows. Was this the moment she revealed that mages could, in the throes of passion, accidentally turn their lover into a toad? Or, perhaps, that Darkspawn could sense rutting Grey Wardens from miles away, and were liable to traverse the country to find them and demolish their erotic bliss?

Or, when Zevran took a moment to think sensibly, now was perhaps the time to consider realistic issues– monthly bleeding, for example. And then, in the absence of such things, the chance of pregnancy.

… Could Grey Wardens birth Darkspawn? Surely not. Still, if it turned out they could and the Circle didn't educate about preventative herbs, Zevran wouldn't waste a second in advising Rhodri of their existence.

All this, of course, was moot when Rhodri hadn't had the chance to open her mouth yet, let alone detail the actual risks that might face them. Zevran swept aside thoughts of herbs and Darkspawn births and invited Rhodri to speak. She accepted with an appreciative nod and pushed on.

"Right, well. Let me just say that you're at no risk from magic," she held up her hands for emphasis. "I'm only telling you this because I know magic unsettles you, and you probably haven't slept with a mage before–"

"I did once, with a mark," Zevran nodded, and then paused. That escapee from the Antivan Circle, Beatris, hadn't been a noteworthy lay. Not because of magic, in any case.

… Had she?

Rhodri's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh!" she said. "Well, if you already know about magical discharges, then there's nothing to worry about–"

"Discharges?" Zevran echoed. "Forgive me for interrupting, I– discharges? Magical–? I cannot recall any magic from her. Not during the sex, certainly."

She frowned. "You're quite sure she was a mage?"

"Hah! Oh, I think so. She tried to kill me with an odd little spell when I climbed into her carriage." Zevran shrugged and added, as Rhodri's eyes widened, "She failed, of course. The only thing she managed to do was startle me, and now that I think on it, probably exhaust herself. I do not suppose that is what you meant, though?"

Rhodri smiled shook her head. "If she exhausted herself, the chance of discharging during sex was negligible. When a mage is not depleted, though, it's rather more likely."

"Ooh! Is this where I find out you may turn me into a toad by accident?"

"Hah! You know, with all these toad references, I'm starting to think you want to be turned into one." She laughed and nudged his knee, "Which begs the question why you thought it would be better to sleep with me than Morrigan the obvious shapeshifter! As far as accidental magic goes, the best I can offer is a frozen pillow. Not very exciting, is it?"

With an impish smile, Zevran waved the question away. "My darling, what a thing to say! The frozen pillow is the superior choice by far, no? At least that can be dried out. Toad Zevran… I like the idea much less. Too much green and not enough pouty lips."

"Yes, I thought so," Rhodri chuckled. "Well, you should know that you're safe in the event of a discharge. It only happens when mages are physically overwhelmed, and you'll see it coming before I can feel it."

"Will I, now?"

She nodded and gestured at her face. "My eyes will glow."

"... Glow?"

"Mm. White. Not blindingly bright, but certainly visible if my eyes are open. If you want to waylay it, tell me it's happening and we'll wait a moment until it dies down." Rhodri shrugged. "Anyway, that's all I had to say as far as magic goes. As I said, not exciting, but I'd rather you were aware and unimpressed than surprised and afraid."

Zevran smiled, "Just so. Now, that was the 'mage' part of the 'Magewarden.' I cannot help but think there is a 'Warden' part to our little safety discussion, no?"

"You're right. Now, that is a risky affair. No making me bleed, of course, and if we were in battle that day, we should check ourselves for cuts first. If we find anything, we heal it and bathe, and then the night is ours."

"Quite fair. And, ah…" Zevran delicately pointed his nose down, "What of monthly bleeding?"

Rhodri chuckled and shook her head. "Not an issue. The Taint, I found out recently, makes Grey Wardens all but infertile. I haven't bled since the Joining, and I doubt it will come again."

The good-naturedness of it all made Zevran's eyebrows rise. For someone who had spoken so excitedly about having children of her own, Rhodri didn't look the least bit disappointed by this new development. Did Tevinters permit adoptive heirs? … Did Magisters steal babies when they couldn't have any of their own? Just sneak up to a mother or father out with their infant, distract the adult with a spell, and then swipe the child?

And what then? It was hardly as though the work stopped post-kidnapping. Magisters would have to spend hours, if not days, creating an elaborate backstory for the sudden heir. Whatever did they do if they stole the child without getting a proper look first, only to find that said child didn't look a thing like them? How did a family of humans explain a sudden elf or dwarf? Elf ears could be concealed, albeit uncomfortably, with hats, but dwarf infants sported beards that would be obvious even after the closest shave. What did one do then?

Oh, now he was just being absurd.

… Wasn't he?

Then again, wasn't it about time the Tevinter Magister's heir came out with a horrifying opinion? If anything, it was long overdue.

Spurred on by his own ghoulish curiosity, Zevran let out an 'Ah.'

"I am sorry," he said, and genuinely meant it if her explanation merited the sympathy. "I do recall you speaking of the children you wished to have. It would be complicated, I am sure, if Tevinters are obliged to make their heirs themselves."

Rhodri shrugged. "I could adopt if I wished, but I will be carrying any children myself."

Zevran squinted. "But…?"

A moment passed as Rhodri watched him blankly, and when no explanation came, Zevran prompted her with a gentle, "But… did you not say that the Taint prevents…?"

"Oh!" She laughed and waved a hand. "That's nothing blood magic can't fix. My family will gladly put aside some of their own blood for me for that. No trouble at all."

Illegal, undoubtedly, but as far as morals went, perfectly acceptable. Zevran let out what would have easily passed for a sigh of relief had he not cleverly caught it in time and schooled it into another, 'Ah.'

Rhodri took his response with a wink and added, "Well, it's no trouble unless you were hoping to get a child out of tonight's encounter, of course. If you were, I hope you're not too disappointed."

Zevran could have choked. In fact, he did a little. Whether the cause of the sudden obstruction was a trapped scream, laugh, or something else again was unclear, but it was definitely there.

"Oh, I–" he said (gasped, really), and stopped.

Or, rather, blessed commonsense stopped him before he could say something stupid. And thank goodness it had! What if Rhodri took a knock to the head one of these days and suggested they marry? Whatever Zevran said at this moment would be noted as his opinion on parenthood, and it didn't pay to be remembered as not wanting children– and, as Zevran pondered coming into guardianship of an infant with softly-pointed ears and a quizzical little frown, he decided he was anything but against the idea.

At the same time, though, it wasn't well to be desperate for children either– especially not with Rhodri. As far as suitable co-parents and spouses went, Zevran was undoubtedly at the bottom of the barrel compared to the Minrathous elite, and it wouldn't do at all for him to be brazenly hopeful when she had expressed no such interest in him. No, it was best to be open, but not too open. Happily available if needed, as it were.

Zevran smiled and, time being far too short now to actually think of something clever to say, prayed that whatever fell out of his mouth would be the right response. Just this once.

"Oh, the making of a new life is all very fine and well," he said with an airy wave of the hand, "but practising is just as nice, no?"

He could have cheered as Rhodri grinned and nodded.

"I think you're right," she agreed. "Well then, was there anything you wanted to cover regarding safety, or shall we move onto the rules?"

"Oh, I think we could do the rules now, if it suits?" He gave an inviting gesture, "Please, go ahead."'

"Right. For me, the most important things are that you don't make loud noises next to my ears, and don't touch my hair where it's grown long," Rhodri's hand hovered over her ponytail indicatively. "The shaved parts are fine, though."

Zevran must have failed to keep his curiosity under wraps, because she glanced at him and then added, a little reluctantly, "extremely painful."

"Ah." He nodded quickly. "Of course. I shall keep my hands well away from any and all long hair."

She brushed her knuckles over his cheek. "Thank you. The only other important thing, really, is that I dislike being pleasured from behind." Rhodri sighed and rubbed her neck, unprompted this time as she added, "I find it too lonely, among other things."

The admission made Zevran's heart give a funny little squeeze; a palpitation, he decided it had been, brought on by poor sleep over the past few nights. Bodies were strange like that. He dismissed thoughts of sleep and the cardiovascular system at large, and shot Rhodri a rakish smile.

"Well now," he said in a purr. "We cannot have you feeling lonesome, can we? Consider me well informed, my Warden. And what of these other things, hmm? The things you did not classify as 'important.'"

She shrugged. "I don't enjoy being entered anally, I suppose? It's not awful, but I don't get much pleasure either, so I consider it something of a time-waster when I have two other holes that are much more fun." Rhodri waggled her eyebrows; Zevran gave a low, dark chuckle. She rubbed her chin for a moment, and then shrugged, "That's all for me."

"Good to know," he smirked. "I think we can afford to leave that part of you in peace, then, if it isn't much fun for you. Sex should be done well, after all, and truly that is my only rule."

Rhodri's mouth drew into a small, puzzled frown, and Zevran had to concede that next to her few clear requirements for sex, his own rule could be considered vague and insufficient. In the hopes of keeping things simple, he racked his brains for something– and with all the sex he'd had, there had to be something– that might contribute to a more explicit list of his own rules.

And then, when the search failed to turn up a single damn thing and the weight of Rhodri's patience became uncomfortable, his belly tensed and a defensive part of Zevran wondered why having a single rule was so unthinkable, when there were many factors that complicated sexual encounters. One had to pay attention to time constraints; whom one was sleeping with and their preferences; the bedding; the location; any clothing or accessories; the need for secrecy or a lack thereof. Where did anyone find the time, amid all that, to examine patterns of their own pleasure and displeasure to make rules, and remember them too? Rhodri did, apparently, and thought such knowledge necessary for good sex.

Zevran's outlook was not so complicated. He could admit, perhaps, that when bedding a mark, they usually enjoyed themselves far more than he did, but the sex had still been done well. And that was during work, wasn't it? The sex he had had on his own time had been with carefully-chosen participants, and those had been excellent encounters.

Ah, and perhaps that was it! He hadn't ever needed to wonder what his own rules might be, because he had never needed to list them with the partners he chose. Which meant… what? That he had a sixth sense when it came to detecting excellent bedfellows? It wasn't so unthinkable. After all, he had known that Isabela would be tremendous in bed, and wasn't he right? Wasn't he?!

That explained all of the odd feelings he had had about Rhodri, too, then. All of those odd little pangs and stalled breaths he couldn't brush off had, evidently, all been Zevran's lucky feeling trying to reach out to him. Isabela had even said herself that sleeping with a mage was an experience in itself, and she would know. And to think he had been worrying about it being some other foolish thing– which, for purposes of efficiency and only efficiency, he would refuse to name or even consider.

Oh, Zevran, you are a genius.

His chest puffing in triumph, Zevran turned back to Rhodri, who was still watching him with gently knitted brows.

"One rule might not seem like much information, no?" he said, smiling and nodding as Rhodri replied that it was not much information at all. "But you see, I have never needed to make any more rules for myself because I have a gift."

Rhodri hummed. "A present, is it? Is the present a guide on the workings of your brain? Because that would be very helpful."

"Ha! Not that kind of gift, no. This is even better!" He leaned a little closer, as if to impart secret, exciting news (though wasn't this revelation precisely that?). Rhodri did the same.

"I have the Maker-given ability," Zevran declared to his rapt audience of one, "to know who is going to be excellent in bed, simply by being around them."

Said audience blinked. Her mouth opened and closed, and then opened again. "... I'm sorry?"

"It's true!" He rubbed his hands together. "I have never needed more rules than that one because I get a… how can I put it…? A 'premonition,' perhaps, about someone that sex will be very good with them. It has never let me down! And as it happens, I already have an excellent feeling about tonight." Zevran chuckled. "You know, I wonder if this sense for good sex is an undiscovered branch of divination magic."

"You would have to ask a Rivaini mage about divination magic," Rhodri advised–- with an unexpected calmness, it had to be said, given that she had been gaping like a fish moments ago. "They don't teach that anywhere else in Thedas." She touched a hand to her chest, "And as far as your premonitions about me go, they're reasonable. By all accounts, I'm very good at pleasuring others. Even so, though, I would at least like you to tell me explicitly what you don't like, for my own reference."

Zevran's belly plummeted. He trained his uncomfortable shifting into a one-shouldered shrug. "Ah, well, therein lies the difficulty, no? I could not name my preferences off the top of my head, because I have never needed to wonder, you see."

Rhodri's brows sloped into a soft, sad little frown. "Has nobody ever asked you what you want, dulcis?"

Zevran shrugged again and opted not to consider the question too carefully. "Not like this, certainly," he said, avoiding the inevitable Wounded Tevinter Look by keeping his eyes on the back wall of the tent. "Though, I am sure we can make a list of preferences, but it would have to be compiled as we go. And that might delay proceedings. Which," he shrugged yet again, "if you are in a hurry, perhaps might not be very desirable for you."

The sound of a low chuckle turned Zevran's gaze back to Rhodri, who was watching him with a tender smile.

"I have plenty of time," she soothed. A rather more saucy look came to her as she added, "And if you don't feel the need to rush, I have an offer that might be of interest to you."

Zevran blessed the Maker, Shartan, and Andraste, and nodded with the wickedest grin he had to hand.

"An offer?" he bit his lip. "Oh, I do love those. Please, whatever you'd like to suggest."

Rhodri held up her hands cautiously, "It may take a little explanation, but it's better to have the full picture."

Oh, she liked to tie people up, didn't she? Maybe somewhere under her pile of dirty clothes, she had a stash of accessories– Maker forgive him, how ravishing she would be in skin-tight black leather pants, glistening with sweat, with Zevran's knees up around her ears as she split him open with a colossal glass–

You fool, shut up! Shut up!

Zevran let out an unexpectedly pent-up breath, and forced calmness.

"I completely agree," he said steadily. "A full picture is best for all, no? Take as long as you need, mi sol. You have my full, captive attention."

Rhodri took this with a smile. "Right. You'll remember I said I have plenty of exciting magic when it comes to sex?"

Oh, even better! Zevran nodded excitedly and swore to himself and to the ever-beneficent Maker he'd tithe at least twenty sovereigns to the next Chantry they passed.

"Good. Well, here's the thing…" She opened her hands out like a book. "There are common spells that are easy to modify for sex that you and I can enjoy immediately. Things like heating and cooling," Rhodri counted these off on her fingers, "a diluted thunder spell that causes vibration–" she laughed as a thrilled 'Ooh!' tumbled out of Zevran unannounced, and said, "Yes, that one is very popular– and toning down lightning spells gives off a warm tickling sensation… and there are myriad other things like that."

"Oh, Rhodri," Zevran licked his lips and rubbed his hands together. "I am ready for all of them. When can we start, my darling, hmm?"

She snorted. "I haven't finished yet. The simple magic was only a part of the offer."

"Oh, there is more?" He cackled delightedly. "Forgive me, lovely Warden, you have made me over-excited. I shall behave, I swear. Do go ahead."

Rhodri smiled and nodded again. "There are… other magics for sex. Highly complex ones that I mostly developed myself through experimentation." She paused and regarded a lip-chewing Zevran with a self-assured smile. "Completely safe, of course, and in a league of their own in terms of pleasure– but very difficult. Enough so that I would need some time to map your body out in my head before trying to perform them."

"'Map it out,' you say?" Zevran raised an eyebrow.

"In much the same way you would need to if you're to establish whatever preferences you might have," Rhodri asserted. "Though owing to the nature of entropy spells–"

Zevran's eyes widened. "Entropy? Ooh, I had not guessed that the death magic discipline would feature in naughty spells!" He grinned like a fool as Rhodri folded her arms and watched him with playful reproach.

"Entropy," she said crisply, "is the magic of death, and…?"

He chuckled and gave an acceding nod. "And removal, and transference."

"Precisely. Now, in fairness, that definition is the official one you read in books, and isn't especially useful here." She gestured confidently at herself, "Let me give you my definition: entropy, as it applies to magic, is the manipulation of life force and psychic energy."

"Mmm? That makes it sound much less fearsome."

"Then you have a much better idea of it now. Entropy has over a hundred known uses, most of which are for chirurgy, sleep, and pain relief. Entropic magic in sex, I find, is hard to do well because life force is unevenly distributed through the body. And body composition, pleasure points, sensitive spots, all vary from person to person, which makes it a more time-intensive application. But if we can take things slowly, let me get to know you, what you need, what you crave…"

Rhodri huffed a soft, smouldering laugh that made Zevran's belly simmer. Her voice dropped down to a burr, "My sweet one, I could make the most complex magics fit you like a glove. I can move all the pleasure in your body to one place, or spread it so that every bit of you feels your orgasm."

Zevran let out a fraction of a breath, heat coiling tight in his belly. "Oh, my."

Rhodri smirked. "Better still, I can do that to myself, and then take every sensation in my body and give it to you. Four times the pleasure." She shrugged playfully as he bit his lip, "And if you want a hands-off experience, I can conjure erotic dreams and daydreams so vivid you can feel the heat of the other body. Plenty of things, in short. But again, it takes time, and I would need a period of no magic during sex to learn how you function at a basic level before we could move on to anything else.

"Anyway, though," she stretched and sighed, "that's my offer. Have a think about it, if you like, and–"

"I'll take it," Zevran blurted, surprising himself as he cut over Rhodri. Rhodri, however, looked positively ecstatic at the interruption, and any reflexive motions to apologise evaporated.

"Wonderful!" Her fingers drummed on her thighs, and she quickly added, "Ah! And of course, you can change your mind at any time if you decide you'd rather our entanglement was a short one."

"Oh, I–" Zevran paused and cleared his throat. His stomach was getting ready to depart via his oesophagus, but he had already started speaking, and really, what did it matter if he hoped it went longer than a few encounters? Who wouldn't, when offered quadruple orgasms for an extended period? Only fools and those who didn't partake, and Zevran was neither of those.

"... I am certainly in no hurry to see this end quickly if you are not," he finally said.

Rhodri's chest swelled– briefly, but unmistakably, and the corners of her mouth twitched upwards, only to be pursed into straightness again. She nodded and sandwiched her fingers behind her knees.

"I'm in no hurry," she said in a near-mumble. "Not at all. Anyway, so long as you know you can change your mind, that's– that's what counts. Ah… right. Good." She nodded, "Well then, that's that sorted. We're entangled, with a plan, and we can start whenever we like. Good."

If ever there was a climactic moment with Zevran's name on it, it was now. And Zevran, who was a terribly clever man and not one to squander a good thing, followed the invisible pull in his shoulders that took him into Rhodri's lap. She swallowed and brushed an errant strand of hair off his face, eyebrows rising as Zevran leaned forward until they were nearly nose-to-nose.

"Whenever we like?" he husked. "Such as now?

She swallowed again. Her hand went up to his cheek and cupped it, light and tentative. "If it pleases you."

Zevran smirked and pulled her into a short, teasing kiss. "Oh, it certainly does," he said, and after kissing her again for a second, much longer time, chuckled. "'The first fuck,' hmm?"

Rhodri laughed breathlessly and nodded. "'Conterus primus,'" she mumbled. "'Primus' you'll know already, I'm sure, and ' conterus' means to grind something until it falls to pieces."

"Ooh," Zevran grinned. "Much more fun than 'fuck.' 'Conterus…' that might be my favourite Tevene word now." He bit his lip, "Coincidentally, I rather find myself hoping to be ground until I fall to pieces tonight."

"Hah." Rhodri said nothing further, but Zevran thought it reasonable to presume the imminent fulfilment of his wish as she slowly, carefully pressed her mouth against his. The hand on his cheek was as light as ever– strained, though, as though she was struggling to keep it in place. In the hopes of encouraging her to roam as she saw fit (and not having to pull his mouth off hers to do so), Zevran placed her captive hand onto his chest, slipping a fingertip or two under the neckline of his shirt. Her breath caught; she kissed him a fraction harder, and the fingers that had been guided beneath his clothing massaged the skin there in small circles, not moving a whisper further in– or further back, either, when it came to that.

Zevran ignored the protest of his guts (and so many other parts of him) as he broke the kiss. Rhodri's hands flew off him before her eyes could finish opening, and she watched him worriedly.

"Are you all right?" she whispered, holding her hands up where he could see them. She nodded at his chest, "The kissing wasn't good? Or the rubbing?"

"Oh, I was enjoying myself plenty," Zevran soothed with a wink. Rhodri sighed like she had been given a last-minute reprieve at the gallows. He pushed on: "I think you are holding back on me a little, mi sol, no?"

He wasn't sure whether to be surprised or not as she, looking entirely unsurprised, shrugged and nodded.

"As I should," she said simply. "We don't know what you like, or what you need. You should have plenty of room to decide early on, before something gets too intense and you find yourself very uncomfortable."

"Mmm," he hummed. "And suppose I did not wish for you to restrain yourself with me?"

Rhodri turned her hands up to indicate him, "Whether I hold back or not is your decision, dulcis, but I wouldn't presume that one 'yes' covers everything, especially in this early stage."

Zevran chewed on his lips thoughtfully. "Well now, I suppose that is quite a fair thing. Then perhaps we can make a new rule?"

"Of course. Just one moment, if you please…" Rhodri reached for her satchel in the corner of the tent, and produced a pencil and a black leatherbound book. The covers and spine were embellished with spiralling gilded snakes and sharp runic text. She opened the book to a blank page and spun the pencil in her fingers.

"My grimoire," Rhodri held up the book indicatively before beginning to write. "I have enough sense to write things down this time, see, and I'll go over the rules until I know them perfectly."

Zevran raised his eyebrows. "Flemeth had a grimoire, too, did she not?"

She nodded. "Most every mage does, to keep track of spells and such. And, of course, anyone who has sex makes notes for that in them, too. It's the one thing of yours the Templars mustn't throw out or deface, see, so it's safe to put in here."

At the top of the page, she wrote, in Common script, 'Rules with Zevran,' and then placed a number one. She looked up and nodded with a warm smile. "What's our rule, then, dulcis?"

Suddenly feeling like something of a lawmaker, Zevran cleared his throat and wondered privately if politicians felt this way when they were about to make a speech of great judicial import.

"Well, you see," he began, "I was thinking that perhaps if one of us is holding back and the other is ready for more, we could have a word…?"

He watched on with fascination as Rhodri's hand sped across the page; and then she paused.

"We could say, 'More?'" she suggested. "Fairly straightforward, don't you think? And hard to misinterpret."

Zevran nodded, "Just so."

With a nod, Rhodri added the word and held the grimoire out to him. "Does this read as what you meant?"

He took the grimoire and read what was, in practice, a near-transcription of what he had said. Returning a nod, he handed it back. "Precisely."

Rhodri glanced over the page briefly, and then put the book and pen back in her satchel.

"Well then," she said as she turned back, "that's that settled. Has taking the lead suited you, or would you rather I were more active?"

Zevran's mind reeled with delicious questions of how Rhodri might feast on him, given her 'druthers, and he let out a hum of delight loud and forceful enough to make his lips itch. At some point, he would need to buy another gift for Leliana, who had been right once again about Rhodri's keenness in this sort of thing. He should have said something, and he knew it. How long had that poor Warden been sitting with that question burning a hole in her? And all because Zevran, who was fast becoming a wishy-washy man to outrival wishy-washy men, had been too precious to ask her first.

Well, that wouldn't do at all. The time for diving headfirst into passion and pleasure had finally arrived, and not of a mind to neglect either of them any longer, Zevran grinned broadly, hooked a finger into Rhodri's collar, and pulled her back until her lips were brushing his.

"Do whatever you like with me," he murmured. "No need to wait for any signal, my dear. I am ready for anything."

Rhodri gave an uncertain-sounding hum, but the blush turning her ears scarlet was unmistakable.

"I'll ask before I try something new," she said after a moment. "Will that do?"

Zevran nodded. Quickly, perhaps, and excitedly– but not unreasonably so given the situation. "Marvellous," he burbled.

"Right. Well, since our lips are already touching, I wonder if I might continue to kiss y–"

A part of him, Zevran knew, would later have to concede that subsequently leaning in and kissing her hardly gave her the opportunity to oblige him, but Rhodri's low, throaty groan gave the distinct impression of immediate forgiveness for any impatience on Zevran's part. Without breaking the kiss, Rhodri slowly, carefully turned her body to face his, her hands stroking his cheeks lightly enough to itch.

Zevran inched his mouth away, making a point of keeping a firm grip on her collar as he did. Rhodri stilled and watched him with a gentle, heavy-lidded frown, panting softly onto his chin.

"More," he rasped.

A thrill shot through him as her eyes darkened and her body surged closer. Without thinking, he leaned back and pulled her down onto the bedroll with him. She went carefully, settling like a feather on top of him at first, melting into him with an encouraging hum when Zevran's legs went around her and tightened insistently. Thoughts of testing for the hum again evaporated as Rhodri's mouth met his, open and slow and savouring, and how good it was to be savoured for once. Her tongue dragged over his lower lip; Zevran parted them for her quickly enough to reprimand himself for looking desperate. But her tongue was gentle and probing, and his was fast and insistent, and she held him a little tighter for that; he decided to forgive himself.

Kissing Rhodri wasn't a difficult thing to do. In fact, in the short (and admittedly terribly kiss-addled) moment he allowed himself to think on it, Zevran couldn't recall having done many easier things than applying his mouth to hers.

A logistical difficulty did present itself, however, when Zevran prepared to trail kisses along her cheek, with the end destination of her neck in mind. In a state of heady enjoyment, Rhodri would ideally have bared her neck to him– and from there, of course, Zevran gently pulling at the collar of her robe, which obscured everything south of it, would have started the process of undressing. It was a somewhat lengthier operation than what impatient, greedy bodies screamed out for, but it didn't do to haphazardly tug at an article of clothing and whine for it to disappear. No, every Antivan– every Northerner, most probably– knew that good sex was like a passage of prose, with each paragraph feeding into the next, and if the thing was to be any good, the sequence had to flow. And, since Zevran was the seducer, it made perfect sense that he would be the one to create and oversee the structure himself.

But Rhodri, who had been trapped in that shoebox of a tower in the worst country in Thedas, appeared to have been denied such critical information. There was no blissful tipping back of the head from her, and not a smidgen of additionally bared flesh. If anything, now that she had begun kissing her way down his jaw (when was the last time someone had done that for him?), her own neck was even less accessible than usual.

Zevran's neck, however, appeared not to mind this hindrance in the least, already flexing under Rhodri's mouth and making his head fall back in precisely the way Zevran had envisioned Rhodri's doing. What, then, did that make him? The seduced? The blissful receiver?

… And what if that was the case? Nowhere in the rules of excellent sex did it say that he wasn't allowed to enjoy whatever the other party wanted to lavish onto him. In fact, if it was the desire of said other party, that would surely mean that the overall level of satisfaction would be much higher than average encounters, and thus guaranteed that the overarching requirement of high quality would be met.

Eschewing any and all further arguments on the matter, Zevran's fingers set to work undoing the fasteners on Rhodri's robe, and before he could take a moment to exercise a little self-control, Rhodri broke the kiss to examine his handiwork. Several fasteners were open, and the long sinews in her neck cast shadows up the column of her throat.

She looked down at his hands, which were now attacking the fasteners below her collarbones, and then looked up at him with a grin.

"Off?" she asked.

Zevran snickered and nodded, and as Rhodri joined him in the hasty unbuttoning effort– and looking perfectly thrilled to be doing so– it was hard not to wonder if the rules of excellent sex were all they were purported to be, if they considered pleasure to be impossible when approached with hasty abandon. The 'known' rules of excellent sex was perhaps a better term.

When the last fastener was undone and both robe and tunic were thrown off Zevran decided, while supplying a considerable number of kisses to Rhodri's newly-bare upper half, that there would be no more critical thinking for the evening. After all, didn't he have a lucky feeling guiding him? That would be enough, and if it turned out it wasn't, there would be plenty of time afterward for reflection. For now, though, Rhodri was biting her lip and hissing encouragements and curses, and Maker what a horrible thing it was to tear oneself away, but–

He sat back on his haunches, catching a baffled Rhodri's eye before tearing his shirt off and adding it to the growing pile of discarded clothes. Her gaze slid from his face down to his chest, his belly, waistband– ah, and back up to his face again. Zevran smirked and pinned her down to the bedroll with his mouth on her collarbone, letting his hands wander over her belly as he worked his way up to her jawline. The gentlest attempt to insinuate a leg between Rhodri's, both for purposes of postural stability and wickedness, saw them open instantly for him. Zevran slid his leg up along the inseam of her breeches, winning a gasp he wished he could have bottled. He nudged his knee just a little higher; Rhodri's mouth opened in a choked groan, her hips curling up to meet his.

With a low chuckle, Zevran adjusted his erection, dropped onto his elbows and lowered his mouth to Rhodri's cheek.

"I think you are enjoying that," he whispered. "More?"

Zevran heard Rhodri swallow before she reached up and kissed his nose.

"Please," she rasped, her eyes shutting tightly. "Please, I need– I can finish myself if you'd rather not–"

"Shhh," he smiled into her cheek and eased her back down onto the bedroll. "Leave yourself in my capable hands, hmm?" Zevran slid his thigh back up into place, adding with a chuckle, "And my capable legs, of course."

Rhodri nodded, shuddering as he rubbed his thigh against her in a slow, smooth rhythm. Her breaths quickly grew erratic despite the unhurried pace he had set, her fingers reaching around and pressing into his back hard enough to make Zevran's elbows buckle and give out from under him. His face was plunged into the crook of her neck, where dark heat and salt and sweet abounded. He drank the air down and let an indulgent moan drag the breath back out of him, unreasonably thrilled as the noise– seemingly, at least– made Rhodri stiffen with a snarl, jerkily grinding against his thigh and growling curses until she fell still again.

A few moments later, Rhodri's face emerged from beside Zevran's ear, flushed and beaded with sweat. She fixed him with a decidedly confident-looking smile and pushed a drenched strand of hair out of her eyes.

"I have neglected you, dulcis," she declared in a pant.

"Neglected?" he echoed. "Now where did you get that idea, hmm? It was only a moment ago you were doing wicked things to my neck."

Rhodri laughed and rubbed her neck. "More than a moment, surely. I didn't finish that quickly, did I?"

"No-o-o," he crooned. "Of course not."

"Good. Now, where may I kiss you?"

"Anywhere," he purred, tilting his hips up to her, "and everywhere." Rhodri chuckled, pulled him into a brief, greedy kiss, and then mouthed her way down his neck, to the hollow of one collarbone and then the next–

And then she paused. Dragged her teeth over the bone there and looked up at him with a smirk.

"And where may I lick you?" she enquired with a crispness that looked entirely manufactured against her heavy-lidded eyes. Zevran shivered and cursed the general tightness of leather breeches as warm hands found their way to his nipples, her thumbs working languid circles around them.

"Everywhere," he mumbled.

Rhodri gave a low, dark chuckle and trailed her tongue down to his belly button, circling the ridge before dropping a kiss there. "And what about sucking, hmm? Where may I do that?"

"Mmm… I do think my answer is the same, there."

Her eyebrows rose. She pointed her nose at his decidedly obvious (and at this stage, decidedly painful) erection. "Even here?"

He laughed breathlessly. "Especially there."

Rhodri hummed and settled between his legs. After a moment, her shoulders drew up in a shrug. "I must say, sucking is impeded somewhat by clothing."

Zevran raised an eyebrow playfully. "I have a suggestion that will… how did you put it once? 'Knock your socks off?'"

"I'm barefoot," she smiled and pointed her nose at her feet, "but I'm sure it will impress me anyway. Please, go ahead."

He snorted. "Well now, I think that in much the same way that your socks were removed, these clothes," Zevran hitched a thumb into his waistband and tugged at it, "can come off as well. Makes for an easier time for all, no?"

"Ingenious," she murmured. "May I… ?"

After Zevran advised that she may indeed, Rhodri nodded and proceeded to untie the laces to what was a frankly bothersome set of pants at this point. Now and then, she would drop small kisses to his belly, and then further down as the material was peeled away and the skin beneath became accessible.

When the pants and underclothes were finally threaded off his ankles, Rhodri folded the breeches. It shouldn't have come as a surprise, Zevran knew, given the way she tended to remove his shoes, but watching on was like looking into the sun all the same, and when she went to do the same to the shirt he had thrown off earlier, Zevran leaned forward and gently eased the shirt out of her hands. Rhodri gave him a worried frown, and before she could finish opening her mouth– no doubt to ask why she shouldn't treat Zevran like light shone out of every orifice– Zevran pre-empted her by shooting her a filthy smile.

"Leave those," he crooned, hooking a finger into her own breeches and thumbing the laces. "Take these off for me, mi sol, and come back to bed."

Rhodri's eyes widened. Darkened. She let out a breathless laugh, and if she nodded any harder, her head would fall off.

"Yes," she hissed, ripping her laces open. "I won't keep you, dulcis. Not a second more. Sic."

Her own garments landed in a heap beside his neatly-folded pants, and Rhodri herself was back on Zevran in an instant, kissing a trail down his belly and stopping at his inner thighs. Her eyes slid over to his erection, and then met his gaze.

"I'm allowed to lick here, you said?" Rhodri asked in a soft burr, her hands massaging even lines up and down his legs. Zevran swallowed thickly and nodded, biting his lip as Rhodri's tongue traced its way up the underside of his length. She paused at the tip, flickering her tongue once, twice, over the slit before adding, "I seem to recall I was especially welcome to suck here, too."

Zevran, feeling a lump in his hands, glanced down and caught sight of the bedroll bunched up in his fists. He let go with a breathless chuckle and used a freed hand to brush his knuckles over Rhodri's cheek. A clever remark should have been readily available, something about mouths or welcomeness to do all manner of filthy things, but there was nothing. And because there was nothing, and because Rhodri was nestling her face into his hand like it was a genuinely enjoyable thing to nestle into, Zevran stroked her jaw a little longer, and nodded apologetically.

She took the reply– and seemed to consider it a valid one– with a broad, tender smile, and held up a hand.

"Oil?" she asked, and set to greasing her palm when Zevran nodded again. Rhodri settled back between his legs and wrapped her glistening hand around him. Zevran's eyes fell shut, head tipping back as she stroked indulgently, smooth palm feeding onto rippling fingers. Her other hand ventured up his thigh and he felt a slick thumb kneading the seam of his perineum. Gentle, easy palpations of the sensitive flesh massaged the bulb beneath, made his back arch like a strung bow. Her name tumbled out of his mouth again, and then again as her lips slid over his frenulum before she took him entirely in her mouth, sucking and laving him with that tongue like he was made of boiled sugar. Zevran gasped and bucked his hips, hands mindlessly clutching the bedroll as his self-control started to ebb. Sweat was pouring, muscles winding too tightly too soon, everything primed and ready to snap long and Maker, Ferelden had wrecked his stamina.

Zevran forcibly cracked an eye open, and in the dimness he saw a pair of gleaming eyes fixed on him as her mouth and hands worked him. From between her legs, a long, crystalline strand of slick was strung from her opening to where it had found purchase on her thigh.

"Rhodri."

She stopped immediately, sitting upright and holding her hands up where he could see them.

"Are you all right?" Rhodri asked. She pointed her nose down. "It wasn't good?"

"It was better than good," he panted, half relieved and half frustrated by the abrupt cessation. "Too good, perhaps. We might need to leave that for now, if you would like to do other things."

"Oh?" Rhodri smiled with the sort of winsomeness that betrayed all manner of crimes, and gave an enquiring shrug. "What sort of other things, for example?"

"Have you a preference?" he returned reflexively.

Rhodri shook her head. "No preference. I'm enjoying all of this very much and could happily continue as we are. But if you're interested in trying other things, I have another warm, wet place that would gladly accommodate you."

Zevran snorted. "You speak of yourself as though you are a holiday destination."

She grinned. "Hopefully one of the good ones. I think I'll be wounded beyond repair if you see me and think of Ferelden."

"Not for a moment, my Warden," he soothed with a laugh. "Ferelden is the last place I would associate you with. Then let us try this other place, hmm?"

Rhodri nodded, "Excellent. Where would you like me?"

"Mm… surprise me."

It was a stroke of genius, really, to have her decide. Up to now, hadn't it mostly been him pulling Rhodri on top of him? And that was all very fine– most fine, really, but Zevran wasn't a selfish lover by any means. Better to see where she would pick, given the choice. And, as Rhodri nodded again and straddled him, Zevran offered a delighted thanks to the Maker and ran his hands up Rhodri's thighs.

"Mmm," he purred as his fingers breached the slippery little strand he had been eyeing before. A glance higher up revealed an entire glistening patch at the top of her thighs, and Zevran hummed approvingly again. He pointed with his nose, " Someone is pleased to see me."

Rhodri sighed and nodded. "It's been like this all day," she mumbled, face reddening. "You've been on my mind without pause. My underwear was soaked. "

Zevran laughed wickedly; Rhodri rubbed her neck. "I washed this morning, but I can wash it again now if you like– well, I should probably, shouldn't I–?"

"Oh no," he shook his head. "Please, no need for that. Or, if you must get it off, I could lick it all clean for you?"

"Mm," she gave a pleased little wobble of the head. "That could be fun. Next time, maybe?"

"I will keep that in mind." He nodded down, "Back to the original plan, then?"

Zevran nodded and sucked in a breath as she slowly, carefully sank down onto him. His hands settled on her upper thighs, thumbs massaging whatever they could reach until Rhodri stiffened with a grunt. Her hands flew onto Zevran's, holding them still as a series of flutters gripped around his cock.

"Ah," he said quickly, apologetically. "Forgive me. Too much?"

She chuckled thickly and released his hands. "It is if you were hoping to get to the good bit for you."

"Lovely Rhodri," Zevran waved a hand, "when the sex is good, everything is the good bit, no?"

With a smile, Rhodri leaned down and settled on top of him, her chest sliding over his as she started to move in long, even motions. "Then maybe this is the especially good bit, sic?"

A quiet, deep hum rumbled in his throat. Rhodri's lips pressed softly against his; Zevran's eyes fell shut and he kissed back weakly, his head too light and disobedient to allow him to do anything even vaguely reflective of his proper seductive skillset. It never happened with the people one wanted to impress, did it?

And it didn't help that Zevran couldn't settle for having his hands in any one place on her. Her nipples, her rump, her waist, her shoulders. But if his unprofessionalism bothered Rhodri, she didn't show it, pressing against his hands with unabashed craving. She dipped down to kiss his neck, her mouth sealing hard on his skin like she was drinking him alive, and Zevran, lacking anything better to offer, bared more neck and blurted uncurated praise.

Rhodri increased her pace, her fingers gripping his biceps and damn-near encircling them completely. Zevran furled his arms up her back until his hands rested on her shoulders, bringing her deeper onto him with gentle but firm tugs that made his head bury itself into her neck. A gentle, shuddering whine from her made his back tighten, prompting him to speak before he was too overwhelmed to.

"Close again, Rhodri," he barely managed to rasp.

She lifted her head and nodded, slowing up a little. "Mmm."

"So am I. Let us finish together, yes?"

Another nod, and he started to bring his hips up to meet hers. A luxuriant sigh slipped out of him, his own end close enough to taste as Rhodri's breaths quickened and his name fell off her lips.

"Zev."

Oh , that sounded good. Tevinter vowels made his name so much sharper and more urgent.

"Again, Rhodri," he hissed, firming his grip on her and snapping his hips up. "Say my name again."

The sudden change in pace coaxed a groan out of her that made his muscles quiver.

"Zev," she gasped. "Zev- ahvenhedis-!"

Without warning, Rhodri's hands shot under him and snatched his upper body off the bedroll to crush them together as she groaned hoarsely near his ear. His desperate thrusts were met halfway as Rhodri's hips slammed against him, heat squeezing him everywhere until after a torturous second on the knife's edge, the tension burst and he spilled into her with a loud, throaty moan.

Rhodri was shaking when she eased off him a moment later, both of them cursing softly at the sudden separation. She flopped on the bedroll beside him with glassy eyes and hair everywhere, and gave him a lopsided grin.

"That was…" she gave a low whistle. "Excellent. Will you drink some water?"

Zevran nodded and propped himself up on one elbow. "If you have any to spare. Thank you, mi sol, very considerate of you."

"You should expect nothing less," she murmured, and shuffled up against him. "Sit up a little more for me, dulcis," her arm went behind his back and eased him upward. "Bonus."

Rhodri brought an empty cupped hand near his mouth. Zevran watched water slowly fill her palm, and couldn't quite decide why his eyes slid shut when her hand met his mouth, or why he cradled said hand in both of his as he drank so very deeply. The water was weighty, if water could be such a thing. A little sweet, a little salty, and crisp enough to quench a forest fire. He could have guzzled it down, greedy man that he was, until he burst at the seams. But Rhodri wasn't the monzón, and Maker only knew what energy it took to conjure water out of thin air.

He pulled away with thanks after a cup's worth.

And then, when he realised he was still clutching onto her, he let go of the poor creature's hand and stifled any pre-emptive mortification with a winsome smile.

"Today I learned that mage-made water is not the same as regular water," he said cheerfully, and kissed his fingers. "Marvellous. Tastes like summer in Antiva City!"

Rhodri smiled. "Mana has a funny influence on water and ice. I'll spare you the lecture on the phenomenon of humoral pre-shaping, but I will say that because of the effect, the flavour of conjured water varies from person to person, and tends to taste a little like the caster smells."

"Ah," Zevran nodded. "Yes, it does rather, now you mention it."

She lay down and stuck a finger between her legs. "And apparently, mine tastes like Antivan summer," she said, frowning a little until– "ah, that's got it."

Her finger came into view again, the top knuckle obscured by something opaque and white.

Zevran raised his eyebrows. "Is that…?"

"Your seed? Yes, it is." She stuck her hand through the tent flap and flicked it away. "Easy clean-up, don't you think?"

"Very," he mumbled. His eyes reluctantly drifted away from her and over to the same tent flap that he would have to be departing through shortly. After all, cleanup was, as Rhodri had quite rightly said, easy– and finished now. If that weren't enough of a cue to leave, giving him water to replenish himself straight after the act certainly was.

There might have been cause to stay, perhaps, if Rhodri had need of him. But hadn't she said, quite a few times now, that that wasn't the case? And unlike with Taliesen and Rinna, where space constraints necessitated sharing a bed, Zevran had his own bedroll and it was situated in a tent Rhodri had gone to some trouble acquiring and weatherproofing for him. His sleeping pants were in there, along with his Rivaini jewelled earring and coin purse– and his new poisons belt, too. No, on balance there was no logical reason to remain here a single second longer.

Zevran accepted his own defeat with a sigh.

"Ah well," he said, giving a rueful chuckle. "I suppose I had best leave you to sleep this off."

He went to haul himself upright, and even had his hands ready to push off from the bedroll when Rhodri said, "Oh."

He paused; she sounded surprised. Perhaps disappointed? It would be terrible to disappoint her. He could easily stay with her if she needed him close by. Most likely for protection as she slept– Maker knew Zevran had kept her busy enough to warrant a very deep sleep indeed– but the reason was immaterial. Rhodri never asked for things she didn't need, and who was Zevran to deny her?

He turned to look at her, perhaps a little too hastily, but naturally, she had not noticed. "Mmm?"

"You need not leave if you'd rather stay," she offered. "I'm not sure what the customs are outside of the Circle, but if you enjoy sleeping with company, you're most welcome with me."

That sounded like she preferred having people to share a bed with. It was a vague statement, but she never made an offer she didn't mean, and she didn't just say he could , after all. No, Zevran was most welcome. A superlative, no doubt a product of bone-deep Tevinter hospitality. He, Zevran, could not have been more welcome in Rhodri's domain, because he had reached the pinnacle of welcomeness. She had just said so. And what kind of damned fool turned down Tevinter hospitality? Not him, that much was certain.

Furthermore, not that more reasons were required– but just in case they were: it was freezing cold outside. Positively wretched weather. And Zevran, Maker forgive him, was a terribly lazy man. Not one for straining himself in unseasonable winters– and why should he, when it was a well-known fact that being out in the cold, even for a few moments, was bad for the health? It was best to minimise exposure wherever possible; who could predict the tipping point where coldness escalated into disease? Not him. No, it was better for all concerned that he stayed put for the night.

And, from beneath his mountain of compelling evidence, Zevran accepted the offer with a nod. Rhodri beamed, bouncing a little on her heels.

"Great!" she enthused. "Well, I– ah, do you need a cloth to wipe off? Or– mm! Pyjamas, perhaps, if you don't care to sleep naked? I have a clean shirt, if that suits."

A part of Zevran wondered if wearing a person's clothing for one night would make them smell like the other person– purely because of that ridiculous dream he'd had; his was an academic curiosity more than anything else– and took both with thanks.

When they were both washed and dressed (how Rhodri could stand to sleep in full-length sleeping pants when she felt the heat so badly was anyone's guess), they settled side-by-side onto the bedroll. Rhodri shifted the pillow until the vast majority was closer to him. "Here, make yourself comfortable." She pulled the blanket over them both. "Is this warm enough?"

"A blanket and a hot-blooded Grey Warden? Oh, yes, I think so."

Rhodri smiled again and lay on her back, leaving a distance between them that was too respectable not to find funny. He eyed the gap and spoke up again.

"But you know, I imagine I would be even warmer if I were closer to you." No lie there, she was like a furnace. Better to be too warm than too cold in these harsh winters.

She acknowledged his comment with a thoughtful nod. "You probably would be, yes." Nothing was said for a moment until her eyebrows shot up and she turned to him. "Oh! Do you mean you want to move closer? You can do that." She nodded again.

Thanking the Maker the copper had dropped before he had to try and elaborate, he shuffled closer until he was up against her arm. Her muscles tensed under his skin.

"I… can move this arm if you wish to move even closer," she said hesitantly. "Only if you wanted, of course."

"Oh, I think I would like that very much," he purred. Warmth. We are keeping each other warm. Ferelden is cold. It is convenient.

Rhodri quickly lifted her arm and Zevran moved nearer until his head was resting on her chest and an arm and a leg were draped over her. Her hand shifted onto his shoulder, and she gave it a small squeeze.

Pleased, boneless, and drowsy, he felt himself sinking into the heaviness smothering his eyes shut– or, at the very least, he did until Rhodri's voice stirred him.

"Zev?"

He cracked an eye open and looked up at her with a groggy smile. "You call?"

"Is there a name for this… ah… this thing that we're doing?"

"... Thing? Do you mean the way we are lying right now?"

Rhodri shook her head. "No. This arrangement. This… relationship, if you will. We never had a name for it in the Circle. Are we entanglees?"

"Ah." Zevran nodded. "Lovers, is the name. We are lovers."

She squinted. "Lovers? How did it get that name?"

Oh, no.

He sighed patiently. "We made love, Rhodri. People who make a habit of making love to each other are called lovers."

Rhodri blinked. "That's not how love is made," she murmured. "I love my family very much, but I can assure you I never did any of what we just did with them."

It took all of Zevran's willpower not to hide his face in his hands; whether it was to weep or laugh hysterically, he did not know. He compromised by silently praying for strength. "It is poetic, my Warden."

A contemplative silence fell over them that was pierced when Rhodri suddenly said, "You know, I think fuckers would have been a more apt name."

A graceless, lengthy snort burst out of Zevran before he could stop it, and he conceded with a nod. She wasn't wrong, after all.

"Still, though, I suppose the name's already been chosen," she shrugged before glancing at him. "Well, do lovers out here ever kiss each other before they fall asleep?"

He smirked. "Many do, yes. Hmm, Rhodri! Are you hoping for a goodnight kiss?"

Rhodri's eyes widened. She cleared her throat and looked away. "I– ah–! Well, I–"

Zevran cut off her splutters as he glided up and caught her lips with his own; Rhodri kissed back with a sigh. Her hands framed his face, fingers lazily stroking his jaw until Zevran, conceding to himself that at some point they would need to sleep (and he was, it had to be said, getting very drowsy), moved away again and with a smile.

"Sleep well, Rhodri." He settled his head back down onto her chest.

"You too, Zev," he heard her mumble. "Wake me if you want or need anything, sic?"

Zevran nodded against her breast because he was too tired to do anything cleverer. Under his cheek, Rhodri's heartbeat was slowing to a crawl, and if there was a better invitation to fall asleep than that, Zevran didn't know it.

He closed his eyes.