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Half the surrounding area had been burnt crispy by fireballs, leaving dead plants and charred corpses behind. Her party wasted no time picking the remains of the dead. They were well past being squeamish about these things. Sorona cast a glance to Morrigan, who was digging in a dead assassin's pockets. She had been right during their first conversation: How does one steal from dead men?
Sorona dipped down to reach the apparent leader of this ambush. He must have something valuable. Perhaps a decent health poultice?
She brushed his fingers against his armor and he stirred. Sorona yelped, panicked, and kicked the waking blond in the jaw.
Now he was awake. And groaning in pain.
Heads turned towards the party leader as she recollected herself. Quickly they gathered behind her. Morrigan took her usual place at Sorona's right with Alistair on her left. Leliana hung behind, quietly observing like a vulture.
Harried whispers came to Sorona's ears.
“I say we end this and go.”
“He could have answers.”
“We can't let just him live!”
Oxford gave a short bark. Even the dog seemed to have an opinion.
“Ugh,” the assassin finally began to speak. Sorona hushed her party. “I much thought I would wake up dead or not at all.” He rolled onto his side and stared up at Sorona. “Though it seems you have not killed me yet.”
Sorona had gotten to know his face intimately during the battle. He had spent most of his time chasing her, after all. Perhaps it was the way the sun had started to set or maybe this different angle but he appeared... different now. Something in his eyes was less focused, sadder. Sorona took a deep breath of air. By the maker, he was beautiful though.
“Sten, restrain him.”
The Qunari did as bid with haste.
“Ah, so I am to be interrogated.” Something in him came to life. He became warmer, more aware. Sorona swallowed and fought to remain stoic. If it were even possible she would daresay he became even more attractive. “Let me spare you some time.”
His name was Zevran Arainai, he worked for the Antivan Crows, and Loghain had sent him. He also thought he should join Sorona's party. That alone had sparked a divisive debate. Sorona stood with her most trusted allies, huddled together as they spoke in whispers. Alistair's views were obvious. He was simply aghast at the man laid before them and would take no risks.
“We have to kill him,” Alistair suggested. Morrigan rolled her eyes.
“There is nothing we 'have' to do except let his own deal with him,” Morrigan countered.
“I think we could use a man of his particular skills,” Leliana spoke up. Their discussion corrupted into whisper-shouting and bickering.
“He's a slave.” Sorona finally interjected. She had said that and the party's conversation became very uncomfortable.
They were discussing his fate. He had done all he could to plead for his life. Now all he could do is wait while his future was decided by others. Typical.
“So,” he started speaking to the Qunari keeping his face in the dirt. “You do this often?”
Sten stayed silent. Zevran huffed dramatically.
He watched from his place in the filth of the road as his captor spoke with her allies. This Grey Warden was more than Loghain had made her seem.
For one, she was a beauty. Sharp lines drew her face, jutting over pale skin and freckles. Her eyes were lit like moonshine. They were wary, tired, and intelligent. Even if her face remained stoic those eyes would give her heart away. An intensity surrounded this woman, making her dangerous and sexy. How lucky for him. If he was to die at least the view would be nothing to scoff at.
Sorona cast a glance back to check on the assassin. She caught him staring, but he was shameless and winked. Her eyebrows shot up. She almost looked like she would laugh.
Now she was walking back over to him. Sorona stood above him, arms crossed, her eyes giving away her amusement despite her blank face.
“You tried to kill myself and my friends, then you sell out your employer, and now you want to join my party? You must think I'm royally stupid,” she said.
“I think you are royally tough to kill. And utterly gorgeous.”
“What.” Sorona blinked.
“Not that I think you'll respond to simple flattery. But there are worse things in life than serving the whims of a deadly sex goddess.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Sorona stared. She stared at him for what felt like an hour and was probably one stunned minute. The audacity! To not even have picked yourself up out of your own blood yet and then flirt! It was all a bit too much like she had been. But that felt like years ago. Or it had before this.
Zevran waited for his captor to say something. While she stared he contemplated if he'd gone too far this time. Perhaps she truly wasn't the type to respond to flattery. Maybe she would kill him on principle now, like the Crows would have. The longer he had to wait the more dreaded her response became.
“Very well. I accept your offer.”
He was shocked. Truly and terribly shocked. He hadn't thought she would ever actually let him live. The weight on his back left him when Sten released him. Alistair's protesting, Sorona attempting to persuade him, and all other sounds became white noise. He would live. More than that, he would live apart from the Crows and now with this 'deadly sex goddess' as he'd called her.
Zevran barely felt himself move to stand. He barely heard the oath he swore. It was all a deaf buzz. The world became a sightless blur, centering on one clear picture: the woman who had given him a second chance at life.