Fanfic: Blood Poison 16
Neria awakens in a room filled with light to find herself alone. She slides out of the bed and discovers that she is wearing a shift and that her body is achingly stiff. There is a washbasin in the room and she wobbles toward it to bathe her face. Her fingers inform her that her hair is clean; this is faintly disturbing news, as she does not remember cleaning it.
She opens the door and braces herself in the frame, standing there with legs skinny and naked beneath her shift. Outside there is a hallway that she does not recognize. It is clean. This is also disturbing because nowhere in Ferelden ought to be clean right after a Blight and she can’t sense darkspawn for miles around.
Footsteps. An elf comes up the hall carrying a bundle, but upon seeing the bare-legged wan Neria, she turns and dashes back the way she came. Neria stares after her and then pushes away from the frame with a sigh to follow the woman.
She hasn’t gone eight footsteps when Leliana turns a corner. “You’re awake! We were all so worried for you!” Neria is bustled back into the light-filled room and takes refuge cross-legged on the bed.
“Did anyone fall?” Neria asks as Leliana climbs up in the bed beside her.
“I cannot say for Morrigan, but everyone else is fine, my dear.” Leliana is just radiant with joy and reaches over to smooth the hair over Neria’s ear. Neria holds herself still and suffers through this touch with eyes turned away.
The door opens and in comes a woman with a tray of food followed soon after by Zevran. Neria twists in bed to face him better and Leliana laughs. “I think I’ll go tell the others the good news,” she says with a cheerful wink.
“So you are awake and it was not just a tale as I had feared,” Zevran says when they are alone, bringing the food to the bed. Neria moves to lean against him. He is so solid and warm and breathing and alive and so she says in a low voice, “I am glad that you survived the battle, my friend.”
“Likewise, my Warden.” His arm goes around her waist and he kisses her shoulder as she reaches for the bread. They are both quiet for a moment after this.
Neria swallows her mouthful. “Were you able to kill Morrigan?”
“Ah, going to start with the easy questions, are we?” He takes a breath and lifts his head from her shoulder. “No. I am sorry, my friend, for I failed you in this. She turned to a bird and, though I did not see it, I believe that she flew away. May I ask what Morrigan did to deserve her death then? I have found myself curious on this point.” So Neria begins explaining about how an archdemon dies and about Morrigan’s offer between bites of her breakfast, hand cupped beneath her mouth to catch crumbs.
“So our Chantry virgin’s first experience in the intimate arts was with Morrigan?”
“Yes, I felt horrible. She is probably very selfish in bed. And also awkward. Besides,” Neria adds, feebly defensive, “We don’t know that it was Alistair’s first time.”
Zevran just laughs and shakes his head at that thought before falling silent. Neria pushes the tray away and leans from him to reach for a water-cup on a nearby table. Zevran’s question comes in a soft voice behind her.
“So when you told me to kill Morrigan, you knew that if I succeeded, you would die.”
Neria swallows and sets down the cup. “Yes.” She straightens to lean against him again but he is stiff and pulls away.
“You ordered me to do something that would kill you.”
Neria doesn’t answer him this time. Zevran stands and walks across the room. She watches him in silence as he changes into his leather armor and buckles his blades to his back. He counts out money from a purse and goes to the door. There is one brief, hooded glance of his golden eyes before the door is shut and the assassin is gone.