[Short Fic] "Lethallin" [FemPC/Zevran]
Title: Lethallin
Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins
Pairing: FemPC/Zevran (Dalish), FemPC&Everyone
Challenge Word: "001. Beginnings"
Summary: It's the evening after the events of Zevran's joining and it's up to the Dalish Warden to welcome him into the group.
Note: So, my first Dragon Age fic. Be gentle, but I'd love some feedback. Zevran's a hard guy to write. There's hopefully going to be sequels, so your thoughts are welcome. Now all of you attempt a word challenge! Go here and pick a word and have fun! :)
It was late in the evening when they finally set up camp, each of them weary and almost to the point of collapse. Only Morrigan had any energy to throw what scraps and herbs they had into a pot and call it supper.
The quiet of the campsite rung in her ears, making Lyna feel uneasy. All the nights before had been chatty and pleasant amongst their tents, but tonight a shadow sat out of sight, slowly assembling his tent. Even though Zevran’s back was turn, she knew he was listening for any sign that they were whispering about him. She could sense the defenses building up all around his body, ready to survive through wit and charm alone if he had to. He was easier to read than he knew. He was Elven, despite himself, and the earth hummed at their feet as it reconnected their roots, welcoming him back to his people without him knowing it.
Lyna blinked, realizing she had been staring and Morrigan was pressing a crude bowl of soup into her hands. “Wake up, this slop isn’t edible cold.” Her voice went down an octave, almost a whisper between them. “And don’t you dare give him anything.”
She glared at Morrigan’s back as she left, wishing she had the gall to throw something at the human’s head. It was a wonder how they got along.
Everyone drew into their tents for the night, tired and wanting to eat in peace, she supposed. The elven assassin had caused so much tension in the last few hours of the day that it was a wonder he didn’t sneak away when they weren’t looking.
She, despite her company, felt differently. Lyna drew several ladles of soup into a bowl and stood, stepping quietly towards Zevran’s tent so as not to startle the camp. The ex-assassin immediately heard her, looking up from sharpening his blades.
“Are you sure you want to feed the man that just hours ago tried to kill you?” The elf smirked, if only slightly. There had hardly been time for him to collect himself before they were off again and he looked it.
“Last I remember, Lethallin, you were paid to kill me. I carry no ills for you, only Logain.” She handed him the bowl and took a seat where the glow of the fire could reveal their faces. “Even, it would be a great burden on me to kill a fellow elf, especially one who has not been welcomed back into the clans.”
The smirk died a little, curiosity hidden under a cautious glint that held her in the firelight. “What did you just call me? I’ve been called many things, but that word escapes me.”
She took a bite of her stew and hid her smile behind her spoon. “It means “friend”. Abelas, I meant no harm by it if that offends you.”
The smirk returned full force, his white teeth gleaming in the yellow light. “Ah, you feed me and call me friend after an afternoon of almost killing each other. If this were another life, we would be making love by firelight in Antiva by now.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and she found herself biting back a laugh. “Oh, and such a suggestive bite of the lip - you tease me, woman.” Zevran leaned back, a hand to his chest, a true smile gracing his lips, she realized, before he quickly tucked it back into hiding.
Lyna heard him give a small, tired sigh, half hidden by a bite of stew. “I’m sorry, Zevran, I should leave you be. You’ve had a long day and you need your rest.”
She went to stand, but a smooth, firm hand took her own and drew it to warm lips. Hot breath grazed her skin and she felt her body shiver as Zevran kissed her hand.
“Thank you, Warden. You have made a grateful man of me. I am in your debt.” He let her hand slip from his as he took another bite from his bowl. “Good night.”
Lyna felt her skin flush suddenly, clutching her soup bowl tightly. Without realizing it, she took only a step back towards her tent before turning around again. “Vir Adahlen, Lethallin. Sleep well.”
Without another word she rushed off to her tent, sets of curious eyes at her back.
Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins
Pairing: FemPC/Zevran (Dalish), FemPC&Everyone
Challenge Word: "001. Beginnings"
Summary: It's the evening after the events of Zevran's joining and it's up to the Dalish Warden to welcome him into the group.
Note: So, my first Dragon Age fic. Be gentle, but I'd love some feedback. Zevran's a hard guy to write. There's hopefully going to be sequels, so your thoughts are welcome. Now all of you attempt a word challenge! Go here and pick a word and have fun! :)
It was late in the evening when they finally set up camp, each of them weary and almost to the point of collapse. Only Morrigan had any energy to throw what scraps and herbs they had into a pot and call it supper.
The quiet of the campsite rung in her ears, making Lyna feel uneasy. All the nights before had been chatty and pleasant amongst their tents, but tonight a shadow sat out of sight, slowly assembling his tent. Even though Zevran’s back was turn, she knew he was listening for any sign that they were whispering about him. She could sense the defenses building up all around his body, ready to survive through wit and charm alone if he had to. He was easier to read than he knew. He was Elven, despite himself, and the earth hummed at their feet as it reconnected their roots, welcoming him back to his people without him knowing it.
Lyna blinked, realizing she had been staring and Morrigan was pressing a crude bowl of soup into her hands. “Wake up, this slop isn’t edible cold.” Her voice went down an octave, almost a whisper between them. “And don’t you dare give him anything.”
She glared at Morrigan’s back as she left, wishing she had the gall to throw something at the human’s head. It was a wonder how they got along.
Everyone drew into their tents for the night, tired and wanting to eat in peace, she supposed. The elven assassin had caused so much tension in the last few hours of the day that it was a wonder he didn’t sneak away when they weren’t looking.
She, despite her company, felt differently. Lyna drew several ladles of soup into a bowl and stood, stepping quietly towards Zevran’s tent so as not to startle the camp. The ex-assassin immediately heard her, looking up from sharpening his blades.
“Are you sure you want to feed the man that just hours ago tried to kill you?” The elf smirked, if only slightly. There had hardly been time for him to collect himself before they were off again and he looked it.
“Last I remember, Lethallin, you were paid to kill me. I carry no ills for you, only Logain.” She handed him the bowl and took a seat where the glow of the fire could reveal their faces. “Even, it would be a great burden on me to kill a fellow elf, especially one who has not been welcomed back into the clans.”
The smirk died a little, curiosity hidden under a cautious glint that held her in the firelight. “What did you just call me? I’ve been called many things, but that word escapes me.”
She took a bite of her stew and hid her smile behind her spoon. “It means “friend”. Abelas, I meant no harm by it if that offends you.”
The smirk returned full force, his white teeth gleaming in the yellow light. “Ah, you feed me and call me friend after an afternoon of almost killing each other. If this were another life, we would be making love by firelight in Antiva by now.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and she found herself biting back a laugh. “Oh, and such a suggestive bite of the lip - you tease me, woman.” Zevran leaned back, a hand to his chest, a true smile gracing his lips, she realized, before he quickly tucked it back into hiding.
Lyna heard him give a small, tired sigh, half hidden by a bite of stew. “I’m sorry, Zevran, I should leave you be. You’ve had a long day and you need your rest.”
She went to stand, but a smooth, firm hand took her own and drew it to warm lips. Hot breath grazed her skin and she felt her body shiver as Zevran kissed her hand.
“Thank you, Warden. You have made a grateful man of me. I am in your debt.” He let her hand slip from his as he took another bite from his bowl. “Good night.”
Lyna felt her skin flush suddenly, clutching her soup bowl tightly. Without realizing it, she took only a step back towards her tent before turning around again. “Vir Adahlen, Lethallin. Sleep well.”
Without another word she rushed off to her tent, sets of curious eyes at her back.