Re: Of Warriors and Assassins 3/?
anonymous
August 28 2010, 09:42:54 UTC
The next morning Elissa felt much more herself. She had armor again. She threw the blasted dress into the rag pile with relish. Let it become bandages. She was never wearing it again.
“Tsk, tsk,” came a voice, “And you looked so lovely in it.”
She turned to see the elf watching her from across the campfire. Her mabari still trailed him. He’d watch the assassin every moment until she gave the say so.
“I’m not the dress type,” she said shortly.
“On the contrary, I think you’re very much the dress type. And the way that one drew the eye to your… assets. It’s a shame to throw it away.”
Elissa flushed. She didn’t even know why she’d spared his life. He should’ve died as soon as she’d heard who contracted him. He was an assassin, for Andraste’s sake. Sent to kill them. But they did need every hand they could get in the upcoming days. Someone of his skills would be very useful. And it was not because he exuded sensuality, or had a thing for dangerous men, no matter what Alistair had accused her of last night.
“You should be watching your own assets, Zevran,” she said and nodded to her dog, who was growling softly, his mouth very close to Zevran’s groin.
“Ahh… I meant no offense, my dear Warden. Surely you wouldn’t punish me for an innocent compliment to your beauty?”
“It’s not my beauty you should be concerned with.”
“I see. What is it then, that I should be concerned with?”
“I am your commander. You should be concerned with following my orders.”
“And nothing else? I am sure your other companions share more concerns that that.”
Sten walked into view, carrying a basket of greens he’d gathered from the countryside. His gathering skills never ceased to amaze her. She would never have thought when looking at him that he would know more types of mushrooms than her old cook did.
“If anything else,” she said, glancing from Sten back to Zevran, “it should be my skill as a leader and warrior. But I think both were proven to you thoroughly to you yesterday.”
“And your skill as a healer, no?”
“A healer?” Elissa exclaimed, “I am not a healer.”
“But you cared for Sten. And you healed me quite nicely, last night. I don’t think I’ve ever felt hands so tender.”
Elissa’s jaw clenched. “I am not a healer,” she repeated. “No one else was willing to heal you. And I don’t have tender hands!”
“My mistake,” Zevran said smiling and bowing slightly. “You have very deft, strong hands. Ones that could make a man shake, with the expert pressure you applied.”
“This conversation is done.” Elissa turned on her heel and began striding across camp. She heard an amusing chuckle, as Zevran ran to catch up.
“I see now, you thought I didn’t approve of the armor you’re wearing? It is not quite as lovely as the dress, but you still look quite fetching. It’s very nice quality leather,” he inhaled next to her, “an unexpected find among those thugs I’d hired out with me.”
“It’ll do.”
“And that mailed breastplate… that is quite appealing. Although you do now match your other Grey Warden. Are you a… set?”
“Are we a what?”
“A set. A match. Do you tumble together in the night.”
“That is none of your business!”
“Ah, I see that you do not.”
“Zevran, you may want to get out of my way now. I’m about to start my practice, and if you don’t step away, you can be the dummy.”
“You practice fighting?” his mouth quirked into an amused smile. “Ah yes, you are a warrior not a healer.”
“Smirk away. You were the one trussed up like a bird yesterday. You saw me fight.”
“Alas, I did not. That witch of yours did something to my senses. I’m afraid I only experienced the great might of your pet Quanri, there.” He grimaced. “And your hound. But I trust your word. We Antivan’s have no woman warriors, but I have heard many stories of the ferociousness of Ferelden’s females.”
“I… You…” Elissa sputtered. She couldn’t line up her thoughts coherently. He was so infuriating! No one had doubted her fighting prowess in years. Even that clod Jory hadn’t had the audacity to question her.
Re: Of Warriors and Assassins 4/?
anonymous
August 28 2010, 09:44:10 UTC
“I am sure you are an excellent fighter,” he was saying now, “but perhaps I could train you in some of the more womanly arts? Have you tried your hand at poison? Or there are these quite wonderful little daggers Antivan women sometimes use, once you seduce your prey…”
“Seduce my prey?! Womanly arts??!!” Elissa exploded. “I fight with skill and honor, and I’m deadlier than any back-handed sneak assassin.” She slid her swords from her newly purloined sheaths and dropped into a fighter’s stance, beckoning him forward.
Zevran smiled, drawing his daggers with the quick sound of steel, “I’m sure you are very deadly, my fair Warden. Just as are all of Ferelden’s woman warriors.” His voice dropped into amusement on the last two words, as they circled one another.
Elissa ignored his taunts now. This was her realm. This was when her blood sang. She made a few quick feints, testing his speed. Fast, but she was faster, and had longer reach. They crossed blades, the ringing sound of steel on steel echoing through the small glen they’d camped in. Elissa’s breath came faster, the blood surging in her veins. She smiled wickedly. Their weapons clashed, back and forth, as they danced around one another.
Zevran, for his part, was a little shocked at the blurring speed in which she parried him. When he’d taken this job, he’d assumed the senior Warden was the one to watch for, and the exaggerated tales were just that, exaggeration. Yet for the first time since sparring with Taliesin, he felt a keening sense of excitement. She was good. She was very good. She could beat him. The thought sent his heart racing faster than exertion she forced from him.
“She’s decided to kill him now?” Alistair’s voice came from somewhere behind them. “I call dibs on his bedroll. I don’t see why he got to keep it, anyway.”
“Would you really want the elf’s bedroll, Alistair? From what I saw, he sleeps without a stitch of clothing on. But then, I’m not surprised. All that time with the templars, and no women,” Morrigan replied with a mock tone of sadness.
“I… no. I don’t… I would wash it!”
“Mmmm,” Morrigan answered, noncommittally. Elissa and Zevran wove together, blades dancing. The rising sun glinted off the sparkling steel, moving almost too fast to see. Exhilarated laughter rang out from Elissa, and Zevran gave a soft groan. First blood, Morrigan could smell it. She could also smell the pheromones rising from the pair of them. “Alistair…” she drawled, “I think you might want to leave.”
“What? Why?”
“I want to watch.” Leliana said, with a small, cat-like smile.
Alistair looked from one to the other, and then back to the pair who’d drawn apart only to come clashing together again, their blades and bodies weaving together with an orchestrated grace.
Morrigan left, sighing. She might as well cook the fish she’d caught for breakfast. They were obviously going to be hungry when they were finished.
Re: Of Warriors and Assassins 5/?
anonymous
August 28 2010, 09:47:13 UTC
Elissa parried another strike, and their blades slid together, bringing them in close. Zevran’s second blade came from below, but she caught that easily. For a moment they stood, blades locked, faces inches away. He was shorter than she was, and she had to look down into his face. It should’ve been disconcerting, but instead it sent a heat quickening through her. His eyes were large and sultry, bedroom eyes, her mother would’ve called them. Although she’d never heard them referred to on a man before. His hair gleamed blonde in the sunlight. It had been braided yesterday, but now it was loose, falling around his shoulders. Her hair had come loose as well; she could feel strands of it tickling down her neck.
“I take it back,” he murmured, “you are much more captivating like this.”
She twisted the grip on her sword, breaking their contact. They made another flurry of strikes that sent them spinning about the small clearing, leaving them both breathless. Slowly they paced around one another. They knew each other’s movements now, watching for the minute signs that would give a fresh attack away.
“You think so? You don’t want to see me back in a dress?”
“No, no. This is much more… enticing,” he smiled slightly, looking her up and down. “You are like a fierce ocean storm. Dangerous and intoxicating.”
“An ocean storm, am I?” she made a feint to the right that he parried easily, then dodged her follow-up blow, but he missed the third strike, and she scored a long line down his leather armor.
“Beautiful and dazzling and deadly,” he replied, his Antivan accent caressing the words. She smiled wickedly, feeling her body respond to the heat in his tone. She hadn’t felt this alive since Howe. Not since he’d ripped her family away from her, murdering every one of them down to her defenseless nephew. Even Fergus was probably dead by now too, either by betrayal or darkspawn. Howe had to suffer for that. His men had even killed her lover in her own bed.
Anger boiled up inside her, and she made a flashing series of blows, driving Zevran back with force. He barely dodged a strike that would’ve made much more than a score in his armor. Using every bit of skill he had, he wove in close to her, purposefully locking the hilts of their weapons together.
“There is another way to ease your pain,” he said, lips inches from hers. She stared at him, eyes glittering dangerously. “One even more enjoyable than this.”
She made a move to dislodge their swords, but Zevran moved with her and they slipped, sprawling into the grass. Their swords still interlocked, Elissa caught her breath as she found herself on top of him.
“You did that on purpose,” she breathed.
“I did not, but I can not say I am sorry it happened,” Zevran moved slightly under her, so one of his thighs pressed between hers. Elissa gave a small gasp and froze on top if him, her body rigid. She couldn’t be considering this. This was the most foolhardy thing she’d done since… ever. This man tried to kill her yesterday, she reminded herself. She could not do this. But still she didn’t move. She stared down into his face. He was waiting, waiting for her to make the first move. He wouldn’t kiss her, she realized.
“Let go of your daggers,” she said, softly. Zevran opened both hands, laying them by the side of his head. She threw their weapons to the side. “Do you have any more weapons on you? Poisons? A dagger in your boot?”
“I am defenseless against you,” Zevran said, making that one simple sentence hold a world of meaning.
Re: Of Warriors and Assassins 6/6 FIN!
anonymous
August 28 2010, 09:48:18 UTC
Elissa slowly, breath by breath, moved her mouth closer to his. She watched his eyes as their faces drew close. He made no move to kiss her. This was so stupid, it was so incredibly stupid, but she didn’t care. Softly, she pressed her lips to his. His hand came up to curl into her hair, and she turned her mouth on his, her lips parting as the kiss deepened. The first touch of his tongue against hers suffused her body with a hot need, one she hadn’t felt in so long. She didn’t know where the others were, or what they would think of this. She pushed the thoughts away, pressing herself closer, wanting the full contact of his body against hers.
Zevran gasped, “Warden.”
“Yes,” she captured his mouth again, and he gave in, kissing her long and deep, both hands threading through her hair now. Slowly he parted their kiss, trying to turn them to the side.
“Warden,” he gasped again, “I don’t want to complain, but your armor…”
Elissa felt color rush to her face, as she realized her armor was pressing painfully against his skin. She pulled away quickly, but Zevran grasped her wrist.
“No, just… let me.” His fingers expertly unlaced the sides of her chest piece, all the while pressing hot, quick kisses to her skin. She groaned as one of his hands found her free breast, under the loose linen shift.
“The others…” She glanced around them. She couldn’t see anyone.
“They aren’t here.” He’d pulled the shift over her head now, and she groaned as his mouth found her nipple. “Do you want to stop?” he asked, brushing his lips over the hard point.
“No,” gasped out Elissa, as his hand slid down her taunt body. Fierce need coursed through her, and her fingers frantically helped Zevran free himself of his leathers. She’d had other lovers, but no one since Darrien. Who was dead, all because of the bastard. Anger mixed with desire, and she shoved Zevran back on the grass, straddling his thighs. She ground down into the hard length of him, pinning his shoulders to the ground. He laughed, a glorious, intoxicating sound.
“You surprise even me,” he breathed, looking up at her. His hands traced the fullness of her breasts. Then he was inside her, and she forgot everything in their movement. The rocking, sliding, in and out connection of their bodies. She drove herself onto him, and then somehow he was on top of her, the rhythm of his body making her gasp as euphoric waves of pleasure crashed through her. She cried out, meeting every thrust, nails scraping down his back. Zevran cried out in pain or pleasure, or both, she couldn’t tell. The world spun into a moment of pure exultation.
Zevran lay on the grass, looking up at the sun still barely rising into the morning sky. It seemed as if so much more time had gone by. A lifetime. A new life. He knew someday they would come for him, he would have to face what he’d left. But that wasn’t today. He looked over to the fierce woman across from him. Every move she made was economical, but as graceful as a tiger. He wondered if she truly new how beautiful she was.
She was already dressing, strapping on her armor, tying up her hair. This was nothing, meant nothing, he reminded himself. He’d always taken pleasure where he found it, and she’d affirmed afterwards that was all this was. She was a true warrior, unlike any woman he’d known and because of that she was exotic. There was nothing more to it. But when she met his eyes, she smiled and the sun seemed to grow a little brighter. Zevran couldn’t help but smile back.
“Tsk, tsk,” came a voice, “And you looked so lovely in it.”
She turned to see the elf watching her from across the campfire. Her mabari still trailed him. He’d watch the assassin every moment until she gave the say so.
“I’m not the dress type,” she said shortly.
“On the contrary, I think you’re very much the dress type. And the way that one drew the eye to your… assets. It’s a shame to throw it away.”
Elissa flushed. She didn’t even know why she’d spared his life. He should’ve died as soon as she’d heard who contracted him. He was an assassin, for Andraste’s sake. Sent to kill them. But they did need every hand they could get in the upcoming days. Someone of his skills would be very useful. And it was not because he exuded sensuality, or had a thing for dangerous men, no matter what Alistair had accused her of last night.
“You should be watching your own assets, Zevran,” she said and nodded to her dog, who was growling softly, his mouth very close to Zevran’s groin.
“Ahh… I meant no offense, my dear Warden. Surely you wouldn’t punish me for an innocent compliment to your beauty?”
“It’s not my beauty you should be concerned with.”
“I see. What is it then, that I should be concerned with?”
“I am your commander. You should be concerned with following my orders.”
“And nothing else? I am sure your other companions share more concerns that that.”
Sten walked into view, carrying a basket of greens he’d gathered from the countryside. His gathering skills never ceased to amaze her. She would never have thought when looking at him that he would know more types of mushrooms than her old cook did.
“If anything else,” she said, glancing from Sten back to Zevran, “it should be my skill as a leader and warrior. But I think both were proven to you thoroughly to you yesterday.”
“And your skill as a healer, no?”
“A healer?” Elissa exclaimed, “I am not a healer.”
“But you cared for Sten. And you healed me quite nicely, last night. I don’t think I’ve ever felt hands so tender.”
Elissa’s jaw clenched. “I am not a healer,” she repeated. “No one else was willing to heal you. And I don’t have tender hands!”
“My mistake,” Zevran said smiling and bowing slightly. “You have very deft, strong hands. Ones that could make a man shake, with the expert pressure you applied.”
“This conversation is done.” Elissa turned on her heel and began striding across camp. She heard an amusing chuckle, as Zevran ran to catch up.
“I see now, you thought I didn’t approve of the armor you’re wearing? It is not quite as lovely as the dress, but you still look quite fetching. It’s very nice quality leather,” he inhaled next to her, “an unexpected find among those thugs I’d hired out with me.”
“It’ll do.”
“And that mailed breastplate… that is quite appealing. Although you do now match your other Grey Warden. Are you a… set?”
“Are we a what?”
“A set. A match. Do you tumble together in the night.”
“That is none of your business!”
“Ah, I see that you do not.”
“Zevran, you may want to get out of my way now. I’m about to start my practice, and if you don’t step away, you can be the dummy.”
“You practice fighting?” his mouth quirked into an amused smile. “Ah yes, you are a warrior not a healer.”
“Smirk away. You were the one trussed up like a bird yesterday. You saw me fight.”
“Alas, I did not. That witch of yours did something to my senses. I’m afraid I only experienced the great might of your pet Quanri, there.” He grimaced. “And your hound. But I trust your word. We Antivan’s have no woman warriors, but I have heard many stories of the ferociousness of Ferelden’s females.”
“I… You…” Elissa sputtered. She couldn’t line up her thoughts coherently. He was so infuriating! No one had doubted her fighting prowess in years. Even that clod Jory hadn’t had the audacity to question her.
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“Seduce my prey?! Womanly arts??!!” Elissa exploded. “I fight with skill and honor, and I’m deadlier than any back-handed sneak assassin.” She slid her swords from her newly purloined sheaths and dropped into a fighter’s stance, beckoning him forward.
Zevran smiled, drawing his daggers with the quick sound of steel, “I’m sure you are very deadly, my fair Warden. Just as are all of Ferelden’s woman warriors.” His voice dropped into amusement on the last two words, as they circled one another.
Elissa ignored his taunts now. This was her realm. This was when her blood sang. She made a few quick feints, testing his speed. Fast, but she was faster, and had longer reach. They crossed blades, the ringing sound of steel on steel echoing through the small glen they’d camped in. Elissa’s breath came faster, the blood surging in her veins. She smiled wickedly. Their weapons clashed, back and forth, as they danced around one another.
Zevran, for his part, was a little shocked at the blurring speed in which she parried him. When he’d taken this job, he’d assumed the senior Warden was the one to watch for, and the exaggerated tales were just that, exaggeration. Yet for the first time since sparring with Taliesin, he felt a keening sense of excitement. She was good. She was very good. She could beat him. The thought sent his heart racing faster than exertion she forced from him.
“She’s decided to kill him now?” Alistair’s voice came from somewhere behind them. “I call dibs on his bedroll. I don’t see why he got to keep it, anyway.”
“Would you really want the elf’s bedroll, Alistair? From what I saw, he sleeps without a stitch of clothing on. But then, I’m not surprised. All that time with the templars, and no women,” Morrigan replied with a mock tone of sadness.
“I… no. I don’t… I would wash it!”
“Mmmm,” Morrigan answered, noncommittally. Elissa and Zevran wove together, blades dancing. The rising sun glinted off the sparkling steel, moving almost too fast to see. Exhilarated laughter rang out from Elissa, and Zevran gave a soft groan. First blood, Morrigan could smell it. She could also smell the pheromones rising from the pair of them. “Alistair…” she drawled, “I think you might want to leave.”
“What? Why?”
“I want to watch.” Leliana said, with a small, cat-like smile.
Alistair looked from one to the other, and then back to the pair who’d drawn apart only to come clashing together again, their blades and bodies weaving together with an orchestrated grace.
Morrigan left, sighing. She might as well cook the fish she’d caught for breakfast. They were obviously going to be hungry when they were finished.
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“I take it back,” he murmured, “you are much more captivating like this.”
She twisted the grip on her sword, breaking their contact. They made another flurry of strikes that sent them spinning about the small clearing, leaving them both breathless.
Slowly they paced around one another. They knew each other’s movements now, watching for the minute signs that would give a fresh attack away.
“You think so? You don’t want to see me back in a dress?”
“No, no. This is much more… enticing,” he smiled slightly, looking her up and down. “You are like a fierce ocean storm. Dangerous and intoxicating.”
“An ocean storm, am I?” she made a feint to the right that he parried easily, then dodged her follow-up blow, but he missed the third strike, and she scored a long line down his leather armor.
“Beautiful and dazzling and deadly,” he replied, his Antivan accent caressing the words. She smiled wickedly, feeling her body respond to the heat in his tone. She hadn’t felt this alive since Howe. Not since he’d ripped her family away from her, murdering every one of them down to her defenseless nephew. Even Fergus was probably dead by now too, either by betrayal or darkspawn. Howe had to suffer for that. His men had even killed her lover in her own bed.
Anger boiled up inside her, and she made a flashing series of blows, driving Zevran back with force. He barely dodged a strike that would’ve made much more than a score in his armor. Using every bit of skill he had, he wove in close to her, purposefully locking the hilts of their weapons together.
“There is another way to ease your pain,” he said, lips inches from hers. She stared at him, eyes glittering dangerously. “One even more enjoyable than this.”
She made a move to dislodge their swords, but Zevran moved with her and they slipped, sprawling into the grass. Their swords still interlocked, Elissa caught her breath as she found herself on top of him.
“You did that on purpose,” she breathed.
“I did not, but I can not say I am sorry it happened,” Zevran moved slightly under her, so one of his thighs pressed between hers. Elissa gave a small gasp and froze on top if him, her body rigid. She couldn’t be considering this. This was the most foolhardy thing she’d done since… ever. This man tried to kill her yesterday, she reminded herself. She could not do this. But still she didn’t move. She stared down into his face. He was waiting, waiting for her to make the first move. He wouldn’t kiss her, she realized.
“Let go of your daggers,” she said, softly. Zevran opened both hands, laying them by the side of his head. She threw their weapons to the side. “Do you have any more weapons on you? Poisons? A dagger in your boot?”
“I am defenseless against you,” Zevran said, making that one simple sentence hold a world of meaning.
“If you do, you’ll pay.”
He smiled languidly, “Promises, promises.”
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Zevran gasped, “Warden.”
“Yes,” she captured his mouth again, and he gave in, kissing her long and deep, both hands threading through her hair now. Slowly he parted their kiss, trying to turn them to the side.
“Warden,” he gasped again, “I don’t want to complain, but your armor…”
Elissa felt color rush to her face, as she realized her armor was pressing painfully against his skin. She pulled away quickly, but Zevran grasped her wrist.
“No, just… let me.” His fingers expertly unlaced the sides of her chest piece, all the while pressing hot, quick kisses to her skin. She groaned as one of his hands found her free breast, under the loose linen shift.
“The others…” She glanced around them. She couldn’t see anyone.
“They aren’t here.” He’d pulled the shift over her head now, and she groaned as his mouth found her nipple. “Do you want to stop?” he asked, brushing his lips over the hard point.
“No,” gasped out Elissa, as his hand slid down her taunt body. Fierce need coursed through her, and her fingers frantically helped Zevran free himself of his leathers. She’d had other lovers, but no one since Darrien. Who was dead, all because of the bastard. Anger mixed with desire, and she shoved Zevran back on the grass, straddling his thighs. She ground down into the hard length of him, pinning his shoulders to the ground. He laughed, a glorious, intoxicating sound.
“You surprise even me,” he breathed, looking up at her. His hands traced the fullness of her breasts. Then he was inside her, and she forgot everything in their movement. The rocking, sliding, in and out connection of their bodies. She drove herself onto him, and then somehow he was on top of her, the rhythm of his body making her gasp as euphoric waves of pleasure crashed through her. She cried out, meeting every thrust, nails scraping down his back. Zevran cried out in pain or pleasure, or both, she couldn’t tell. The world spun into a moment of pure exultation.
Zevran lay on the grass, looking up at the sun still barely rising into the morning sky. It seemed as if so much more time had gone by. A lifetime. A new life. He knew someday they would come for him, he would have to face what he’d left. But that wasn’t today. He looked over to the fierce woman across from him. Every move she made was economical, but as graceful as a tiger. He wondered if she truly new how beautiful she was.
She was already dressing, strapping on her armor, tying up her hair. This was nothing, meant nothing, he reminded himself. He’d always taken pleasure where he found it, and she’d affirmed afterwards that was all this was. She was a true warrior, unlike any woman he’d known and because of that she was exotic. There was nothing more to it. But when she met his eyes, she smiled and the sun seemed to grow a little brighter. Zevran couldn’t help but smile back.
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So great! Thank you my dear anon!
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