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The elf in front of her isn’t begging for his life. To her surprise it’s more of a negotiation. Her team has beaten him, though he doesn’t seem too concerned. If anything he’s amused. She wonders if she should be concerned. Maybe he’s unwell. He is surrounded by the bodies of his companions yet he isn’t affected at all.
“I mean having an ex-Antivan crow would be beneficial, no? I could keep the bed warm as well.” Leliana giggles and Alistair scowls. Morrigan looks like she doesn’t care, and Dog is just being Dog. Realistically, Harea should just kill him. Yet, a part of her is intrigued. His aloof and cheery attitude in the face of death is interesting. Where he’s from is interesting. She’s never heard of Antiva or the Antivan Crows before.
Also, could it really hurt to have a handsome talented elf around? Her aversion to humans has gotten better since spending more time with everyone, but it’s been a while since she’s had the comfort of her people. So, she nods at him.
“Okay,” she says, “but warm Dog’s bed first.” His smile is wide, she notices his canines look extra sharp.
In the background, Alistair is sputtering his disapproval, she continues to look at their new companion.
“What is your name?” She reaches out to help him up, he returns her grip and rises. There is a flinch in his movements, she notices the injuries. She lets out a quiet apology.
He waves her comment off. “Zevran Arainai, a pleasure to meet you.”
-
Months pass and after Zevran they meet plenty of new people. They witness death but also the profuse gratitude of the people they help. Harea tries to take on each task with efficiency. She accepts the thanks quietly and continues to move forward. Throughout it all Zevran’s voice rings in her ears. His demeanor is a welcome reprieve. For an assassin the man has quite the sense of humor.
Alistair gets irritated, and Leliana likes to join in on the flirts. Zevran teases everyone but he seems to enjoy poking at her the most. Harea usually just waves him off but tries to hide the blush that starts to form. She realizes her composure breaks easily to flirtations.
When she finally decides to tease him back he has the widest smile on his face. It sticks into her memory for the next couple of days.
-
Zevran likes to stare. He doesn’t even try to hide it. She’ll be cleaning her weapons and she’d look up to find him just staring. There isn’t a sign of bashfulness. The elf just smiles and winks. Harea immediately looks down to hide the redness of her face.
It’s a lot to get used to. She’s never been interested in anyone before. The only time she got close to dating was her wedding night. There was never time for her to flirt in the alienage.
Currently, the pair sit across from each other, a fire separating them. It casts a warm glow on Zevran making his golden hair shine even brighter. She can’t help but feel jealous. Harea’s hair is a sandy blonde and rather brittle. Zevran’s hair looks smooth. It’s tempting to ask if she could touch it but she wouldn’t hear the end of it from him.
“Warden.” She looks up, he’s leaned forward, elbows against his knees. His chin rests against his gloved palm. “I’ve been thinking about something.”
“Something inappropriate?” she says lightly. This causes him to let out a chuckle.
“Well, usually,” he says, “but not right now.” He motions towards his head.
“Do you ever think about braiding your hair?”
She reaches up and runs a hand through her hair. It lays straight and reaches just past her chest. The only form of styling she has is her choppy bangs.
“I never have.”
“Why not?” She shrugs at his response.
“My mother wasn’t into styling hair. My cousin has short hair so she never bothered.” Whenever her mom would train her she’d just tie it up or leave it down. Her mom also said that if she’s fighting someone they should never get close enough to touch her hair anyway.
He makes a ‘tsk tsk’ sound towards her, but his eyes look bright.
“Now that’s no fun at all.”
“Is it really that important?” Zevran’s line of thought is a mystery to her. Surely there are bigger things to worry about than her hair during their rare moments of downtime.
“Let me braid your hair.” Her eyes widened.
“Why?” A laugh bursts out of him.
“Why not? Maybe I want to appreciate the Warden’s beautiful hair.” He leans back against the log. “Maybe, I find it therapeutic. Maybe you’ll find it therapeutic.” His eyes narrow playfully.
“Or,” his voice deepens, “maybe this is my plan of seduction.”
Harea feels her face heat up and she lets out a small cough into her hand. She tries to ignore the way his eyes fill with amusement. It’s obvious he gets entertainment from this. He flirts with anyone just to get a reaction out of them. It makes her feel a little disappointed which she immediately buries.
“If you want to, feel free,” she says, “just know my hair doesn’t feel great.”
He moves towards her and sits next to her. She turns so her back is facing him. Zevran then gathers all her hair so it lays against her back. Gently, he combs through her hair, working from the ends to her scalp. His fingers are nimble and Harea instantly feels herself relax into his touch. It’s been so long since anyone has combed her hair. The last person had been her mother. She feels herself leaning back until Zevran pushes her up with a light chuckle.
“Glad to know my touch has such a relaxing effect on you,” he whispers into her ear. She straightens her back and tries to ignore the goosebumps that appear on her arm. His fingers continue to deftly work through the knots. The lack of care Harea put into her hair was apparent.
“Sorry,” she murmurs, embarrassed. “I’m just a little tired.”
“A little,” he scoffs, “it feels like we’ve been non-stop since I’ve joined this merry band.”
She just hums in response, feeling drowsy. Zevran stops combing through her hair and starts to gather strands near her crown. Focusing on what he’s doing is difficult, but it feels delightful. Harea feels her eyes droop but she fights against sleep. Zevran is quiet now, focusing on the task before him. His fingertips graze against the back of her neck which causes her to suppress a shiver. The action is likely purposeful on his end.
“Your hair is quite long,” he comments.
“I like it longer.”
“Most warriors prefer it short.”
“Well, ideally they aren’t getting close to me.” Harea always prefers attacking from a distance. She feels her fingers twitch from just thinking about her bow.
“With how well you shoot they never will.”
“I also have an ex-Antivan Crow to get rid of those who get too close.”
He laughs. “That you do, Harea.” She could hear the smile on his lips. His fingers are grazing her back now, the end of the braid approaching.
“There.” He taps her shoulder. “Turn around please.” She turns and he stares at her, his grin wide. Carefully he messes with strands in front of her face and moves the end of the braid towards her front. It makes her realize how long her hair actually is. Her fingers fiddle with the end before she looks back up.
“Does it look nice?”
“You look beautiful,” he says smoothly. His eyes are sparkling, pleased with himself. The comment is expected, but it makes her feel bashful. She looks away and back at him, trying to compose her thoughts. It’s hard for her to understand how he could just say these things without hesitation.
“Thank you,” she finally says, “where’d you learn how to do this?”
“It’s quite easy, I can show you one day, but I learned from all the whores I lived with.” Harea must still look confused because he continues. “They enjoyed the extra hands and having their hair played with so they taught me how to do it, I actually know quite an array of hairstyles.”
“I can see why they’d teach you,” she says, “the experience is nice.”
“Well then maybe I just won’t teach you.” He winks. “I’ll have an excuse to keep playing around with you.” Harea stares at him, trying to resist the urge to hit his shoulder, before he starts to laugh again.
“I truly enjoy your reactions, they’re rather loud despite how subdued they are.”
“You’re ridiculous,” she mutters before standing up, “also you don’t need an excuse.”
“Huh.”
“What?” she continues, flatly, “I like hanging out with you.”
“Oh,” he says, eyes widened, “really?”
“I’m not saying it again,” she starts to turn away, “thanks for this, but I’m heading to bed.”
“May I join you?”
“Maker, Zevran,” she laughs, “no.”
“Maybe next time?”
“I’m not even going to bother responding to that.”
“But it isn’t a no?” Zevran says, an eyebrow raised.
“I suppose it isn’t,” she says, a small smile on her face, “goodnight Zevran.” His responding laugh rings in her ears as she continues to walk towards her tent, trying to focus on calming her quickening heartbeat.