The Last Warden

Chapter Five

"I wanted to say that I was sorry... for earlier... for what I said."

Leliana straightened from her packs, eyes narrowing in the firelight. They had made camp just beyond the shores of Lake Calenhad. The Tower loomed light against the darkness of the waters but he had somehow thought it... better not to beg favors of the mages at this hour. Daylight wouldn't make a difference when it came to some of the things that they were capable of, but he certainly wasn't afraid.

She shook her head. "There is no need."

"I-I snapped at you. It's not... it wasn't your fault. I did what I had to. Connor... it was my choice."

With a tired sigh, she moved closer, blinking up at him. "And I do not envy you that. No one here does, I think."

"Except maybe Sten."

She smirked, lips twisting into something of a smile. "Do not let him catch you apologizing."

Alistair chuckled, running a nervous hand through his hair as he shifted. "And there is... well, there is something else. This, actually..." His hand slipped from behind his back, holding the rose delicately to avoid the thorns. It was full, blooming soft and red and real. "I... I found it just beyond the trees there. Thought it... well, I don't know why I picked it really."

Her fingers flexed, stretching toward the petals before curling away. "Alistair..."

"I know... Your dream – err – vision... All the dead roses."

She raised her eyes to his.

"But this one's not... not dead, not yet anyway." He shrugged. "Somehow that just... seemed important. I-I thought I'd give it to you..."

Leliana held his gaze a long moment before laying her hand over his, taking the rose as she rolled the stem between her fingers. Her lips pursed, almost smiling.

"See? And I know it sounds strange but... I think you should smile more. Like... maybe you're supposed to. Weird, I know." He shrugged.

"No... I... Before the vision, before...all this." She gestured round, taking in more than just the camp. "I remember the flowers in Val Royeaux, how they used to bloom in the springtime. Even in the Chantry, I remember when things were... different." She did smile now, though it was twisted, bitter.

He lay a hand on her arm. "Well... I guess it's a start."

"You know, in Orlais, when a man gives a woman a flower..."

"Oh. Right.... I think I know where you're—"

"—It means he thinks she is beautiful." There was something mischievous behind her grin, but it softened as she brought the flower to her nose.

"Oh... okay. I mean, yes. Obviously."

The petals fluttered as she laughed, the sound strange but somehow... right. Still it did not last, her face again falling as she shook her head. Her arm brushed against his as she pushed past, hesitating before ducking into her tent. "Goodnight, Alistair."

He stood a moment, lost in thought. But soon enough it set his spine to tingling, the weighing stare of watching eyes. They glinted gold in the firelight, the glare reflecting off of the assassin's dagger as it idly flicked the dirt from beneath his fingernails. He sat against one of the logs, elbow resting on his upraised knee, clucking his tongue as his grin spread wide.

"Poor form, my friend."

"What would you know about it?"

"A good deal indeed." Zevran shifted, sliding over to make room, but Alistair remained standing, keeping both eyes firmly on the elf. "She wants you to follow her."

"What? No she – no she doesn't."

"You think so?" He arched a brow. "Unless you are... unwilling?"

"No... I-I'm not just going to... Why are we talking about this?"

"My advice to you is this, my friend. Take your pleasures where you can find them, while you can."

"Riiight. Like I need romantic advice from a guy who kills people."

Throwing back his head, Zevran laughed. "We all do our share of murdering around here, do we not?"

"You know what I mean. You... you enjoy it."

"Oh? Should I not? There is a certain... satisfaction to taking pleasure in one's work, or so they say." He uncurled slowly, coming to his feet, lithe and lean and graceful. "Don't tell me you do not feel it."

"Do I enjoy killing people?" He shook his head. "Absolutely not."

"Or darkspawn, if that is your preference." His eyes shifted over Alistair's shoulder, grin slipping into a smirk as he nodded toward Leliana's tent. "But what is it you do enjoy, I wonder? Obviously not the attentions of our dear Sister."

"Will you just..." He trailed off with a sigh, shaking his head as he shrugged. "Cheese, I guess. And I have this minor obsession with my hair."

Zevran's lip curled. "Truly?"

"Hey."

"Well, I suppose it is a bit..." He chuckled. "Myself, I fancy things that are beautiful, things that are strong..." He stepped closer, grin turning wicked. "Would it offend if I said that I fancied you?"

Alistair blinked. "Wait... wait, are you...?"

Zevran only quirked a brow.

"You tried to kill me!"

Again he laughed, the sound whispered and unsettling. "And seducing you would be a sound tactical choice."

"For killing me?!"

"Certainly."

"Great. Right. Good to know."

Zevran tsked. "But I have given you my oath; I am no longer in the business of killing you. You have spared my life, freed me from the Crows. I am your man for so long as you shall have me." He grinned. "And I can think of worse things that fighting at the side of a dashing and deadly Warden such as yourself."

"I thought you weren't trying to seduce me."

"I said that I was not trying to kill you, my friend. Seduction, though, is always a possibility."

"Right. Y'know, what?" Alistair stepped back, folding his arms. "Just don't. Don't give me advice, don't make fun of my hair and don't-don't do... that. 'Oh yes, let's bring the assassin along. Let's ask the assassin what he thinks we should do.'"

Zevran's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You judge too quickly, my friend."

"And stop calling me that. I'm not your friend." Already he had turned away, making for his tent. "I'm just the guy who's wondering what in Andraste's name he was thinking bringing you along."

Still he stood, silhouetted against the flames, face hidden in shadow. "And when you are through with me?"

Alistair sighed before ducking beneath the flap. "I don't know. We'll see."