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“Tell me, Zev,” Lily started, watching the sky darken as she lay by the camp fire. “How did you ever intend to kill me if you can’t even reach high enough to make a fatal blow?”
Ah. So he was one of those - the perverse who took a sick fascination from his history and grotesque markings. “Keep your hands to yourself or lose them.”
Dorian wasn’t exactly the most observant person, but it wasn’t like he paid no attention to his surroundings. He was more observant than most others from Tevinter, but compared to someone trained in all of that rogue-ery nonsense? He wasn’t very good.
But, he was still good enough to detect a presence somewhere behind him, only if because his magic instinctively flared. “I’ve come here for one moment of silence, I would ask you to make that silence longer and bother me later with any questions or concerns you may have,” he lazily drawls, and it’s only until he hears the slight noise of a dagger cutting through the air that he turns and casts a rather unneeded barrier spell, since the dagger wasn’t mean for him. The person he presumes he detected falls to the ground with a solid thump, their weapon falling with a violent clang. The dagger is embedded in their neck, and they’re quite unattractively choking on their own blood. “Well, that’s absolutely lovely. It’s not a party unless someone dies, I suppose. I’d ask you not attempt my life, however, since an attempted assassinated of the Archon is usually never met well, and as I get on in age, one death is more than enough for me per week, and we’re already up to four,” he says, directing his words to whoever threw the dagger, unable to see them in the dark room from the lighted balcony.
Ileanna never remembered beingattracted to Zevran. He was smaller than she was, more seductive and secretive.These, of course, were all truths for most men that Ileanna met, and while shecould easily look them over in other gentlemen, the fact that he was originallysent to kill her didn’t help Zevran’s case that much. That, and the realitythat Ileanna had only ever had feelings for one man before. And he was gone.
ButZevran had always been there. He’d been her friend, and they had acceptedtogether that there was nothing more between them. She confided in him. About herfamily and their end. About her life before the Blight and how she missed it soterribly that her chest ached at night. On more than one occasion, he’d offeredto massage it for her, bringing out the laughter once again. She even went sofar as to tell him of her old affection to a knight sworn to Highever’sservice. Zevran had understood, and that was when they had decided as friendsto simply stay that way. She was grieving. He wouldn’t take advantage of her.
Itwas a surprise to him that she had been a voracious flirt, in her day. Backbefore the war ever started and she had fewer things to worry about than thesafety of an entire nation and the restoration of her family’s honor. She toldhim of the tricks she used to pull on her suitors, of the batting eyelashes andthe stolen kisses and hinting words. She didn’t seem the type, he’d always toldher. But after a few months he started to see it. The eyelashes bat once more,and the giggles returned and she’d glance at him in such a way that touched hisheart. Though, with Ileanna, it felt more like a punch than a caress.
Sowhen she invited him to speak with her in her tent one night, he wasn’tconcerned. They were friends, and they’d spoken often of the past and of hertrials. This was a common occurrence, and it was far too cold this night tostay out in the central camp and speak. They hadn’t spoken all day, but she wasbusy, and their conversations often lasted well into the night. He wasunconcerned
Untilhe pulled back her tent flap and saw her standing, almost pacing in theconfined space. She looked distressed, moreso than she had been moments beforewhen she invited him. She’d stripped off her armor and was down to herunderclothes, a plain tunic and soft leather trousers. He could see the fabricof her tunic shaking, and for a moment he wondered if she had actually beenweeping.
“Ileanna?”He asked, his tone concerned. “Are you alright?”
“Zevran!”She practically jumped out of her own skin, but Zevran was just relieved thatshe seemed nervous and not in distress. “Oh, um, please – come in,” shegestured at the small space around her. “I’d, uh – I – I’d like to speak withyou.”
“Whatis it, dear friend? You seem nervous.”
Ileannadidn’t answer. She took the one step required to reach him, towering over himbriefly before reaching up, one hand gently cupping his cheek, the othersliding around the back of his neck to pull him closer to her, tilting his headup. She hesitated when they were mere inches apart, but she needn’t have. Hemet her half way, their lips sealing together in a gentle, careful kiss. Hernerves were worse than he initially thought – the moment they made contact, shepractically melted against him, her hand leaving his face so that she couldwrap it around his waist.
Zevranhummed into the kiss, sliding his hands to her hips. This was a surprise, butnot one that he would complain about.
Whenshe broke from him, a moment too soon for his liking, her cheeks were flushedin embarrassment and thrill, a nervous giggle spilling from newly swollen lips.She didn’t part far from him, and she didn’t let go.
“Staywith me,” Ileanna breathed, her chest rising and falling rapidly as the nervesbuilt up again. “Zevran, please… stay with me?”
Zevransmiled as he pulled her down for another kiss.
“Oh,my dear,” he whispered against her lips, leading her back to her bedroll stepby careful step. “You never had to ask.”