A Red Promise, Chapter 5

[brynna]

Title: A Red Promise
Characters: Fenris, Zevran
Rating: AO
Summary: Fenris has remained with Hawke and the mage revolutionaries, but he can't forget a certain assassin he met in Kirkwall.

Many thanks to Zevgirl and Scarylady for editing and critiquing the story! We can never appreciate betas enough :)

"We have spent enough time running and gathering our people. It's time to fight back."

A murmur of assent rippled through the crowd that surrounded Marian Hawke. A sea of robes in shades of gray, blue, and black surrounded the wide stump upon which she stood, filling the small clearing in the middle of the camp. Fenris felt his difference from the mages more distinctly than usual, a weed amidst a field of flowers. Gritting his teeth, he hunched his shoulders and bristled within his forbidding armor like a hedgehog keeping enemies at bay. He didn't want to be here; but Hawke had insisted, using his own curiosity against him, dangling her next move before his eyes while promising a fight.

Fenris badly needed a fight; he grew weary of fleeing. For this, he would endure a meeting surrounded by mages and their auras of magic, a constant bombardment upon his brands. His skin was crawling, tendrils of Fade weaving through the lyrium beneath his skin like cloying vines. Only the presence of Zevran at his side kept him from bolting, but he could not suppress the persistent twitching of his body in reaction to the discomfort. Zevran laid his hand against the exposed skin of Fenris’s forearm, clearly sensing his unease. The gesture grounded him, a calm river in the middle of a roiling sea of sensation, and he touched Zevran's hand briefly in thanks before turning his attention back to Hawke.

"Some Circles have succeeded in freeing themselves from the templars, but the Circle in Ansburg has become a prison. The Margrave chose to support the Chantry and gave his troops to the templars to help subdue the mages. Our people are being held in cells and smited daily to keep them drained of their powers. They live like dogs. They are thrown scraps for food. Templars pour buckets of icy water over their heads instead of allowing them a proper bath. They are forced to make waste in the corners of their cells, which are rarely cleaned. We will not permit this to continue!"

The magic under Fenris’s skin buzzed and sizzled as the mages around him reacted in anger. He shifted uncomfortably, brow furrowing as he tried to shake off his growing irritation.

"We hope to find a way to help our people peacefully, but if not, we will fight until every last mage has escaped that place. A small group will remain here to maintain our base and keep the revolution alive if we should fail. The rest of us shall leave tomorrow at dawn. We go to Ansburg!" The mages met her words with a resounding cheer.

Anders took her place on the stump and began to divide the mages, telling each one whether they would be staying or leaving in the morning. Those who were told to remain at camp drooped in disappointment, but did not voice any complaint. Hawke had taken an oath from each mage she accepted into her group, making them promise to follow orders. No one wished to be expelled and left to the mercy of the templars.

As most of the crowd drifted away to make their preparations, Hawke beckoned Fenris, Varric, Merrill, Isabela, Zevran, and several other mages to follow her to one side of the clearing for a private conference. Fenris relaxed more as the agonizing influence of the mages' presence dwindled. After a few minutes, Anders finished his task and joined them as Hawke began to explain her plans.

"We need to know exactly what we're up against before we reveal ourselves in an outright attack. Fenris, I want you and Isabela to infiltrate the Circle. The building is an old palace that was used by the Margrave of Ansburg before the Third Blight, and we have a parchment that shows the layout. It was turned over to the Chantry when the new palace was built, and the templars converted it to a home for mages. I need to know where the mages are currently being held within the building and if there's a way to free them during the attack so they can assist us."

"Infiltration is a specialty of a trained assassin," said Zevran in his soft, lilting accent. "And yet, you would leave me behind?" He tucked a loose tendril of silky hair behind his ear and gave an aggrieved pout.

One of the mages looked at him in sharp suspicion. "How do we even know we can trust you? You are not a mage."

"Neither am I." Fenris’s deep rumble caught their attention. He rarely spoke at meetings, content to let others make the decisions. "I will take responsibility for Zevran if he wishes to accompany us."

"Oh, I wouldn't miss it for all the brandy in Antiva!" Zevran grinned. "Since none is available at the moment, anyway."

Hawke rubbed her chin to hide a smile. "I think Zevran would be better off coming with us. Then we can keep an eye on him." Her eyes narrowed. "This won't be a lark, Zevran. I cannot promise we will win."

The assassin lazily withdrew a knife from his belt and tossed it into the air, catching it neatly in a firm grip. "Death and I dance well with one another, Lady Hawke. Every journey is a risk, and some promises are better kept than others." Amber eyes found green ones as he said this, and Fenris felt a sharp sensation in his chest that was not quite pain, but still enough to pull the air from his lungs in a hitch of breath. He needed badly to feel those full lips against his own.

Hawke caught the exchange and gave Zevran a long, measured look before finally nodding in acceptance. "Very well. You come with us, and you will accompany Fenris and Isabela into the Circle."

"Oh, a threesome!" Isabela raked her eyes over the two elves. "I will adore spending some private time with two such handsome men." She blew a kiss at Fenris’s glare and smirked widely at Zevran. "It has been far too long, Zevran." Zevran merely lifted an eyebrow, but Fenris stiffened at Isabela's words. He was aware that Isabela and Zevran knew each other but hadn't realized that their relationship might have been more... physical.

"Just make sure you save me the juicy tidbits," said Varric while Anders rolled his eyes. He met Fenris’s irritated look with an apologetic shrug.

"Enough, guys. Go get your stuff ready for tomorrow. It will probably take almost a week to reach Ansburg." Hawke grabbed Anders’s arm and maneuvered him toward their tent. As the others dispersed, Zevran sidled up to Fenris with a particularly lascivious smirk.

"So it would seem that we are traveling the road together, my friend. Might I continue to share your tent?"

Fenris glanced at Isabela's retreating back with a frown. "What has been too long for you and Isabela?"

The smirk disappeared as swiftly as if Fenris had wiped it off. When Zevran spoke, his voice was quiet and serious. "I will not deny that Isabela and I shared pleasure in the distant past. You already know I have bedded many others. I have never hid my history from you."

Fenris dropped his gaze to the ground, where loamy soil bunched between his toes. "I am aware of it, but I do not know the extent of the... feelings... you might have had."

"Ah." Zevran stepped closer, but mindful of their public location, did not touch the other elf. "There have been only two women in my life that ever affected me, mi querido. One is dead. The other remains in Ferelden with her King and is still my friend. Neither can lay claim to my heart."

Neither can I. But Zevran's words calmed the rising poison in his gut, and he relaxed his stiffened posture.

"I will share my tent with you, so long as Isabela and Varric are not invited."

There was a moment of silence before Zevran threw back his head, laughing hard enough to draw eyes in their direction.

"No threesome or even a foursome, mi amigo. This I promise."

###

The evening sun flashed brightly on the surface of the water, momentarily blinding Fenris as he entered the stream. Water bugs skated in lazy paths, leaving tiny V's behind them that Fenris erased with the palm of his hand. The day had been hot, and the stream was still warm except in the deep places on the far bank that were overshaded by heavy oak trees. The gurgling of the current was the only sound in the area, and it soothed the anxiety lingering in Fenris’s thoughts.

This would be the revolution's first attack, and he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it. At one time, he would have been on the other side, supporting the templars. How did I get here? He knew how, of course... Hawke. She was his friend and had shown him that not all mages were reprehensible. Anders was an abomination, but Hawke was someone he respected. He trusted her as he had no other... until now.

Did he trust Zevran? Tilting his head back, he ducked his head beneath the water and surfaced with rivulets streaming over his face like rain. The assassin spoke little of his past of the Crows, but Fenris suspected Zevran’s reasons were the same as his in not speaking of his time with Danarius. They both bore the marks of a tumultuous past, and Fenris wasn't yet ready to explore that dangerous territory. Zevran had been open and honest in his intentions, however baffling they were.

Fenris still puzzled over Zevran's attraction to him. Stretching his arms above him, he squinted up into the sunlight to watch the play of water over the lines of his biceps. His gaze then drifted down to examine the smooth planes of his stomach and the sparse dark hair that grew between his legs. Ordinary. When he had lived with Danarius, other elves had shied away from his heavily tattooed appearance, looking with disgust at the brands that marred his skin. The magisters had seemed fascinated, however, on those occasions when Danarius had shared him with guests. Fenris closed his eyes and shivered, pushing those memories back into the cage in which he kept them hidden from everyday thought. If he allowed them space in his mind, they would drive him mad.

A faint rustle of leaves caught his ear, and he turned to find Zevran stooping over the ground near the bank, laying some clothes and a towel next to where Fenris had left his. He had left the assassin back at camp eating dinner, saying only that he wished to bathe before sleep since it was unknown whether they would encounter any water on their journey. Fenris’s preferred bathing spot was farther downstream from where most of the camp bathed, so as to ensure his privacy, but Zevran had obviously tracked him here.

Fenris had never been self-conscious of his nudity; slaves were often denied clothes at auctions so that buyers could see exactly what they were getting. Some magisters preferred to keep their attractive slaves unclothed for their own enjoyment. During his time in Kirkwall, he had often bathed with Hawke and her companions with no embarrassment, in spite of Isabela's catcalls. This was Zevran, however, and a particular look from Zevran felt as sensuous as a caress, much like the look he was giving Fenris now.

Fenris flushed but refused to turn away from Zevran's appreciative gaze. Instead, he watched with equal fascination as Zevran calmly removed his armor and underclothes, amber eyes unwavering. He had seen Zevran naked during the assassin's recovery, but he had not allowed himself to indulge then. Since Zevran was openly assessing Fenris’s physique, he saw no problem in returning the favor.

It was easy to imagine Zevran with a plethora of bed partners. His hair was the color and texture of corn silk and gleamed gold in the waning sunlight. The elf was slim, but well-toned with smooth, hairless skin that had seen much sun. His age was indeterminate but for the fine lines at the corners of his golden eyes. His body had weathered many wounds, and scars of various textures interrupted the smooth expanse of bronzed skin. Fenris took special note of raised, pale lines that criss-crossed Zevran's back in an intricate pattern, a pattern he knew well from his days in slavery when he had been forced to watch as others were whipped until blood pooled on the ground.

Fenris continued to admire Zevran’s body as he entered the stream and waded slowly to where Fenris stood in water that was waist-deep.

"I hope my presence does not offend you, mi querido. I, too, wish to bathe before we leave, and the sun sets early still, even though summer is fast approaching."

"I do not mind."

Zevran raised his hand from the water to display a green bar within his palm. "Hawke was kind enough to lend me her herbal soap. I do so detest the harshness of lye. Skin should be treated well, just as Antivans treat their leather, and it shall last longer." He smiled up at the taller elf. "Perhaps you would allow me to bathe you? It is difficult to wash one's own backside."

Fenris nodded his assent, and Zevran pulled him to slightly deeper water. They had continued to share a bedroll at night, which led to many caresses and kisses, but they had not progressed to removing their trousers. Zevran's touch was no longer unfamiliar, and when the assassin placed his lathered hands on Fenris’s skin, Fenris relaxed into the touch with a contented sigh. The rippling current served as a sensual counterpoint to Zevran's circular rubs, and Fenris closed his eyes, soothed by the dual sensations. Zevran's hands made their way from shoulders to lower back, leaving no piece of skin untouched.

It wasn't until Zevran pressed against his back, encircling Fenris’s torso with his arms and washing his chest, that the mood shifted. When Zevran's thumbs brushed over Fenris’s nipples, the air became heavy; the rushing sound of the water suddenly too loud as his skin flushed with queer warmth. Zevran's hands moved methodically toward his hips, and Fenris’s muscles tensed, struggling to hold still. He was certain Zevran knew of the effect he was having on Fenris and perhaps had even planned it.

"I cannot wash your legs while they are underwater. Would you like to move to the bank?" Zevran's voice was neutral, betraying nothing, and Fenris wondered what the other elf intended. The thought of Zevran kneeling on the ground before him with his long, blond hair cascading over his shoulders as he lathered Fenris’s thighs....

"I can wash them before I step out." By the Void... the images in his head, the tingling in his skin, the slow stiffening of his cock... the sight of Zevran kneeling before him would undo him completely.

"As you wish." Then everything changed as Zevran placed a light kiss directly between Fenris’s shoulder blades, sealing it with a flick of his tongue along the ridge of Fenris’s spine.

Fenris gasped and almost lost his footing on the rocks under his feet, but Zevran held him firmly by the hips, sliding his tongue slowly up protruding vertebrae to the nape of Fenris’s neck. Teeth closed over the sensitive skin there as Zevran nipped it gently, pulling Fenris firmly against his chest.

Heat surged through Fenris’s groin and straight into his cock, and he could hear his heartbeat through the roar in his ears. The world collapsed, no longer consisting of anything except him and Zevran. His skin was a live thing with a mind of its own, aching... yearning... for Zevran's touch, for more of his moist tongue's caress. He was barely even aware that he was being guided toward shallower water. His body responded with alacrity to the pressure of Zevran's hands.

Only when the clever fingers left him, to lather the bar of soap, did clarity sear through the haze. A flash of buried memory surfaced: harsh, mocking laughter, rough hands on his hips turning him around as eager eyes raked his body, fingers grabbing his hair and pulling his head back in a vicious yank as he was forced to kneel....

Immediately, soothing hands rubbed his shoulders, and a soft voice murmured in his ear.

"Shh. I have promised you, mi querido, that I will never take advantage. If you wish me to stop, you need only say the word. I desire only to give you pleasure."

Fenris took a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. This was Zevran, not Danarius. He had a choice here, and he never doubted that Zevran would stop if asked. Do I want him to stop? His body still quivered, and he could feel the needy ache in his groin. I want... I want. But to give himself over to another so completely... was he ready? I am not vulnerable this time. I am strong.

Behind him, Zevran withdrew his hands but remained close enough for Fenris to feel the heat radiating from the other elf's body. "I have moved too fast, and for this, I apologize, my friend. I would not endanger our relationship."

"No.” Fenris turned his head sharply and grasped Zevran's hands, bringing them back to his hips. "I will not give in to my fear."

"And what is your fear?" Fenris realized then, from the gentle tone in Zevran's voice, that the assassin already knew.

"To appear weak in front of another. To place myself in another's power." It was the first time he had voiced this aloud, for to confess this was another fear, another weakness.

"Sharing pleasure is a strength, not a weakness. To be able to give and to receive... it is a powerful thing, no? When you see the joy, the ecstasy, in your partner's eyes... when you feel the pleasure given to you freely by another... there is nothing that can compare to this. When you are ready, I will show you."

"I want... I do not wish for you to stop." Fenris was trembling now, his body craving Zevran's continued touch, his mind needing to banish those memories that simmered just beneath the surface.

"We will take it slowly, hmm?" Zevran's breath ghosted over wet skin, and his hands rubbed once more at Fenris’s back in soothing circles.

Within minutes, Fenris had relaxed again, leaning back into Zevran's chest as the other elf drew him closer to stroke the taut skin over his abdomen.

"Yes, like that, querido." A hot tongue traced the shell of Fenris’s ear in between reassuring words. "Let me do this for you."

Zevran stayed close as he lathered his hands again, distracting Fenris with tantalizing licks along his shoulder. Slick palms moved lower, brushing against the triangle of dark hair below Fenris’s navel. Fenris sucked in his breath, and then Zevran was there, slender hand closing gently around Fenris’s erection.

He couldn't help it, couldn't hold back the thrust of his hips into the heat encircling his cock. So good. He arched back, head tilting back as unfocused eyes took in the deep blue of the sky.

"You are beautiful when you let go of your control, mi querido. Magnificent... stunning."

The words stoked the fire within further, and Fenris hissed as Zevran began to move his hand in long, firm strokes, forming a rhythm with the thrusts of Fenris’s hips. When he circled the head with his thumb, dipping it in the clear fluid beading there, Fenris groaned.

It was incredible, so much more exquisite than when done alone, and he trusted Zevran. He could relax and give himself over to the pleasure without shame or fear of abuse. Zevran slipped into his native tongue, words of encouragement spilling out in a melodic cadence that was as sensual as his touch. As Zevran quickened his strokes, Fenris reached back, twining his fingers into Zevran's silky hair. Zevran hummed in approval, and the vibration traveled into the soft skin beneath Fenris’s ear, which Zevran was teasing with flicks of his tongue.

Pressure built, expanded, and then Zevran pressed close, his erection brushing into the cleft between Fenris’s buttocks. It was a simple caress, heated skin seeking an instinctual release, and the intimacy of it unraveled Fenris. With a strangled cry, he came hard, his lanky body convulsing in Zevran's arms. The smaller elf gripped him firmly, holding him up as the shockwaves sent his mind spiraling out into the Void, and for a time, there was nothing but the sweetness of release.

When he returned to the present, to the stream, the trees, and the fading sun, he was still leaning against Zevran. Every sense was heightened, and his skin still tingled. He could hear the chirps of birds as they settled down for the night and Zevran’s deep breaths behind him. He could feel the pressure of Zevran's erection against his flank and the trickle of semen down the front of his thigh.

"You were amazing, mi querido, beautiful. Thank you for allowing me to give you this."

The words were whispered, reverent in the aftermath, but Fenris could hear the unevenness in his voice as Zevran struggled to contain his own arousal. He turned slowly to face the other elf, taking in the flush of Zevran's skin, the pupils wide enough to blot out the gold, the cock standing proudly erect and wanting.

"I...." His voice faltered as uncertainty crept back into his mind. He had never been allowed to make his own choices before; Danarius had always commanded his actions. Zevran saw his indecision and reached out to take Fenris’s hand, bringing the palm to his lips to plant a gentle kiss there.

"You owe me nothing, my friend. I wished only to give you pleasure. For myself, I can wait until you are ready." He gave Fenris a mischievous grin. "Shall we go bathe again? I fear I have ruined my earlier efforts."

By the time they had returned to the deeper area of the water, Zevran's erection had diminished, and they both took their time leisurely washing each other. Fenris used the opportunity to familiarize himself with Zevran's body, running his lathered hands over tanned skin and admiring the tattoos that accentuated the muscles in his chest, back, and stomach. For the first time, he began to believe that his brands might have some aesthetic beauty as well, given their similarity to Zevran's.

When finished, they toweled off and dressed in the clean clothes they had brought. As he followed Zevran back up the path leading to the camp, Fenris gave the stream one last glance. Would they be able to return here in the future? He smiled to himself as they made their way through dense trees, storing forever the memory of Zevran standing nude amidst the rushing water, and of pleasure given freely and received in gratitude.

Comments

[msbarrows]

That was just beautiful. I loved how Fenris overcame his fears, and how careful Zevran was with him. That slightly-pushy-but-not-too-much dynamic always seems to work so well with him.

[brynna]

They both have had rough pasts, and Zevran can lend his considerable experience. It's killing him to take it so slow!

[(Anonymous)]

Really enjoying this series - beautifully written and characterised. Love the way you write and very much looking forward to seeing where you are taking the story :)

[brynna]

Why, thank you. This story has become quite important to me, and I hope to do it justice.