She hands him over both the sword and the dagger hilt-first. She and Zevran are the only ones at the camp at the moment.

Zevran looks up at her curiously, knowing very well that the weapons she is giving him this time are not of ordinary sorts. "Are you sure?" he asks, glancing down at the blades, then up to her face once more.

Filauria presses her lips into a tight line and nods. "I'm sure," she says. "It would honor them most to put their weapons into good use."

Zevran takes the blades carefully, taking a particular interest at the runed sword, which glinted in the firelight – the legendary sword of King Maric.

"Shouldn't Alistair be the one to use this?" Zevran inquires, still awed at the blade's sheer beauty.

"He wanted to use, Duncan's," Filauria answers as she moves to sit with him by the fire. "He also has Cailan's shield with him now."

Filauria brings her knees close to her chest and wraps her arms around them tightly. She'd also given Zevran Duncan's dagger, with Alistairs consent. They had agreed that the only way to honor their sacrifice is to use their weapons against the thing they had died for.

She looks on quietly to the fire, remembering that night at Ostagar once more.

She closes her golden green eyes. Why? she asks to whoever is listening. She asks to Andraste – to the Maker. Why did they all have to die?

"Filauria," Zevran calls her name softly. Filauria's head shoots up in surprise. After all, it is the first time he'd actually called her by her name. There is certain… warmth in his eyes as he looks at her.

Zevran carefully puts the blades down and reaches to touch her face. "Thank you," he whispers.

Filauria closes her eyes once more and leans into his palm. She does not know if it is the chill of the night, or the lingering sadness from their visit from Ostagar, but she is grateful for the touch, the warmth…

When she opens her eyes again, she sees Zevran's eyes darken. He moves closer towards her, and she feels her heart begin to beat faster against her chest.

His thumb sweeps through her cheek lightly. "You should not be saddened about being alive, my Warden," he says, his warm breath fanning against her face. He tilts his head slightly and leans closer. "You are Ferelden's hope now."

Filauria slowly closes her eyes.

She feels Zevran's gentle kiss against her lips. The kiss is chaste… cautious - a million light years different from the kiss they'd shared at Orzamar. Yet it sends shivers down her spine just the same. He draws back.

She opens her light green eyes and meets his brown ones. She thinks his eyes are beautiful – like chocolate speckled with gold. It is like looking through water at night. She thinks she might very well drown at its depths.

She reaches towards him before she even has time to think. Her hands find his hair as she kisses him hard, letting all her pent-up frustrations out.

Zevran responds quickly. He licks her bottom lip and she gasps against the kiss. He takes this opportunity to slip his tongue inside her mouth.

She feels his arms pull her closer against his chest. His tongue slips below hers, coaxing her. She moans quietly.

His hand lightly slides from her back to her thigh. She gasps as he pushes her circle robes up, revealing her milky white skin. His thumb draws lazy circles against her flesh and she feels goose bumps run along her arms and her back.

"Zevran," she whispers, suddenly unsure. Zevran bites her lower lip lightly before tilting her head with his free hand to press open-mouthed kisses against her throat. She moans when he reaches the sensitive spot at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

Zevran's other hand slides down her arm now. And then to her waist, then back up to the side of her breast. She pants heavily at the sensation. Zevran bites hard against her neck and she gasps loudly in pleasure, despite the sting. He showers light kisses up her neck, to her jaw, and finally, his mouth finds hers again.

…That's when she hears the footsteps.

Filauria pushes Zevran off of her with a start, and just in time. A moment longer and they might have been seen by Ogrhen and Alistair who had been scouting the perimeter.

Zevran casts her an amused look before she hastily pulls her robes down and attempts to fix her hair.

Filauria glares at him in return, blushing.

"Shut up," she says through gritted teeth.

Zevran chuckles. "I don't believe I've even said anything yet, my warden."

Author's Notes:

Hello, my lovely reader! Thank you for sticking with me through my very short chapters. I have found that it is better this way since I am notorious for leaving my fics on hiatus for long periods of time. Fear not, however, because since the chapters I post are short, I've been ahead of my writing for some time so expect for some regularity between my posting. I post whenever I remember, and whenever I can squeeze it into my tight schedule but rest assured I will finish this one.

Also, I really appreciate all the positive feedback I am getting. I am not a chatty author, and I rarely put notes in my publications, but it's good to know that despite that, there are people who speak to the person behind all the Zevran-ness and Filauria-ness of it all. (Also, I most of the time don't make sense, so that's that.)

I love, love, love you guys! I don't have a beta reader so if you encounter confusing sentences, wrong grammar and whatnot that I fail to edit because I've read the lines so many times already that it becomes a chore to read by them one by one, drop me a review so I can go and correct it and everything.

So there goes my long-ish note. Again, reader, I love you. Bye~