Dragon Age: Origins/Awakening, Part 5: Permanently Frozen
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The woman was ugly as sin. That nose was a crooked, broken wreck that no one had bothered to set right before it had healed -- multiple times. Her skin was seamed in puckered, gruesome scars that pulled at her eyelids and and lips just enough to be disconcerting, stretched taut over hard cheekbones and the sharp line of her jaw, and undoubtedly continued beneath her heavy plate armor that suggested little in the way of a figure beneath it.
Her voice matched her face. She sounded like she'd gargled with broken glass, and her hands with their crooked, broken fingers were horrible to behold once the gloves were pulled off -- which only one person had managed to do so far. And he hadn't even flinched at the sight of them. Much.
That person was Zevran Arainai, who had a bit of a problem on his own perfectly-intact and perfectly-preserved hands. Alleyana Tabris was a formidable force of nature whose shield had bashed him into unconsciousness at first meeting, and everything about the ugly, twisted, wrecked woman screamed that if you fucked with her, she would make you and everyone you'd ever known regret it.
She was easily the most likely thing in hundreds of miles that could possibly stop the Crows in their tracks. And while Zevran was attracted to the beautiful and the exotic, he was also attracted to the strong and the tough... and there was no denying that the taciturn woman was three of those things even if she was markedly not all four. Getting into her good graces should have been a simple matter of flirting his way into her bed.
It wasn't as though he'd mind. She certainly didn't seem to have any idea how to handle his advances... when he managed to make them at all... which was almost as intriguing as it was frustrating.
But complications arose, of course, because she was not the only Grey Warden here. Oh, there was Alistair, who was about as harmless as a kitten (and thus, he was about as useful to Zevran as one), but there was also the mage. The purring, prowling, drawling mage who had no problem matching Zevran's formidable libido and had all but set up camp inside Zevran's personal space.
Tannusen Surana, with his long white-blond hair and his fair, only faintly-scarred skin knew his way around ropes and gags and all sorts of creative uses of magic that wouldn't likely grow old any time soon.
And that was glorious, and shouldn't have been a problem at all. It certainly wasn't in the heat of the moment! But the Crows were always a worry, and that woman's protection was still uncertain... and if he could only manage to spend enough time not being debauched in all sorts of wickedly-inventive ways by Surana, maybe he could cement her as an ally as well...
But ah, the mage had such a way with that pliant, talented mouth of his. Zevran would just have to worry about it in the morning.
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http://archiveofourown.org/works/123250/chapters/173501
(Or on ffnet, though AO3 has been much kinder to my formatting over time.)
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5841677/1/Immovable_Object
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