Title of this fic comes from this song, which has the name Elizabeth in it. And it has lots of passion in it, and the words interpret pretty well.

Warning: sex, again, because Liz and Zev can’t keep their hands off each other : P

Different warning: I haven’t played DAI, and I still haven’t finished DA2, so this may have very little relation to the Dragon Age official canon as it now stands. However, I don’t really care too much, as I may never get around to playing DAI. I’ll definitely finish DA2 someday, but DAI is yet another big long singleplayer game and I already have a lot of those.

Part 1

Antiva City was the strangest, most exotic city she’d ever been to. Considering she’d been outside of Ferelden exactly never, this was hardly surprising. She’d been expecting things to be different from home, but… not this different. The climate was hot, humid, and her clothes clung to her skin under her ironbark armour. The sun was brighter, the sky bluer, the sea in the harbour milder. The crowds were more brightly dressed, dazzling and shimmering before her eyes; the buildings whiter and taller and festooned with greenery, wide arches letting the wind blow through the hot city.
And the noise. She’d thought the crowds were bad in Denerim, but it was nothing compared to here. It was autumn, and harvest was coming in, and the raucous rumble of conversation, of merchants selling their wares, of children running and shrieking, it was fit to deafen her. And there was constantly music coming from somewhere, with street musicians everywhere, competing for attention and coins.
She knew she stood out like a Qunari among dwarves, in her elven armour and Fereldan helm, her enchanted sword Starfang hanging at her side. She didn’t mind; she knew to watch her back, and anyone trying to shank her in the street would have a difficult time of it for various reasons. Besides, it wasn’t common cutthroats who occupied her attention. And for her purposes, she wanted to stand out.
Normally one tried to avoid the Crows and their attention, whether favourable or unfavourable, even in other countries. Certainly one did not want to track them down in their home territory. But she was. Alone, to boot. Most people in the world would call it foolish, if not downright suicidal.
Not that it was easy. She was acting on a spare lead that Leliana, now Spymaster of the Inquisition, had thrown her on the rare occasion she wasn’t busy, for old times’ sake. That woman had grown strong and confident, like Elizabeth herself had grown. She’d even tried to recruit Elizabeth to the Inquisition, but for once, she’d turned Leliana down. She’d given of herself wholly to the Wardens these last ten years, and she needed to do this for herself before she lost any more time; if she got sucked in to a new cause, she’d never get out again. Leliana had strong allies. The Inquisition could deal with Corypheus without her.
She could smell many conflicting things; food and piss and flowers and tar and the strong scent of tanners’ workshops. She smirked a little to herself. “I should have known. He always was sentimental.”
She turned right into the Rusty Rake tavern and marched straight up to the counter, her teyrn swagger in full force.
The tavernkeep blinked at her. “E bene, what can I get for you, signora?”
“Information. I’m looking for the Crows.”
The tavernkeep tried not to react, but she caught a hesitation, a slight tremble in his hands. “I can’t help you with that, signora.”
“I think you can,” she said. “I have reason to believe they’re not unaware of my presence here in Antiva. I just need to meet them. Specifically, I’d like to meet the Grandmaster.”
Now he definitely looked frightened. “Signora, no one meets the Grandmaster and lives.” So he did know where they were to be found. Leliana’s clue had been good.
“I’ll live,” she said. And if she didn’t, she hardly cared anymore. “Just point me in their direction.”
“No need,” said another voice, and the waitress stepped from behind the counter, her eyes cool and wary. “I’ll take you.”
“Giselle-”
“There will be no danger,” the woman said, with a sly smile. “As she said, we know who she is. This way, signora.”
“Thank you,” she said, although this was definitely a trap. That smile told her as much.
She followed the woman down a hallway, down into the cellar of the tavern, through a tunnel into another cellar, poorly lit. It was much quieter down here, and she could hear several people in the darkness. “If you’re planning to dispose of me here, don’t bother. I mean no harm, I only want to talk, but I will defend myself if you attack me.”
“You think you can fool the Crows?” the woman asked coldly. “Using a foreigner to assassinate our master is nothing new. It would be a shame to kill someone of your confidence, Commander of the Grey, but pride goes before a fall, as you Fereldans say.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Why, how did you know?”
“You are incredibly unsubtle,” the woman said, and behind her, Elizabeth heard the whisper of a knife and soft footsteps. She had a moment more to listen to her monologue, though. “You knew exactly where to go to find us, the main cell; you come armed, and in armour, with the heraldry of your order emblazoned on your shield, and you don’t even pretend otherwise. But your unsubtlety is incredibly stupid. You came alone. No one will know what happened to you. You won’t be missed.”
Elizabeth jumped sideways, spinning with her shield in her hand, and it connected with the head of the man sneaking up on her. “I beg to differ. Now, is that the way in? Excuse me, I have a long-overdue conversation ahead of me.” She jumped for the door, wrenched it open, rolled under the attacks of the guards, and ran down the hall, followed by shrieks of outrage. They’d be training crossbows on her if they had any sense, and she ran fast, trying to outrun them if possible.
She came to a main corridor, full of people, people who stared and drew weapons. She couldn’t lose her momentum now; she was a brawler, not an assassin, so her best asset was to bull through them all, heedless of sharp pointy objects, and through those double doors ahead of her.
She crashed through, into a hall filled with golden light from high windows, with galleries on either side. Several figures stood at the high end, but she only had eyes for one – the one in black leather, with the mask of a giant crow skull covering his eyes. At the commotion, they all turned, and he raised the mask to see her better. Her breath caught for the briefest of moments – he was even more beautiful than she remembered. But seeing him only reignited her wrath. “Zevran Arainai!” she bellowed.
He laughed abruptly. “Liz, Liz, my darling Liz. Stand down, my friends.”
The assassins at her heels stopped short, tense and with raised weapons, but she didn’t. He watched her warily. Her heart pounding within her, she stomped right up to him, drew back her right fist, and punched him square in the face. His head snapped back and he fell to the floor on his backside.
There was a clatter as every other person in the room lunged towards her; crossbows were raised from the galleries. She dropped into a crouch, ready to fight for her life. What would he do? Would he attack her?
“Hold!” Zevran climbed dazedly back to his feet, holding out a hand for stillness, and the assassins obeyed. “It’s all right. I deserved that.”
“You most certainly did,” Elizabeth snapped. She hadn’t missed that among the people Zevran had been talking to was a very pretty young lady with dark skin, shining black hair, and liquid black eyes. Probably the woman wasn’t at all connected to Zevran in that way but she wasn’t in a mood to be calm. “How long were you going to wait?”
“How long were you going to wait?” he countered. “You didn’t have to wait for an invitation, did you?”
“Maybe I did! I’ve been busy as Commander!”
“And I’ve been busy as Grandmaster.”
“You said you would return!” she shouted, eyes sparking.
He lowered his gaze a little. “I did, didn’t I? And I am sorry. But come, let’s discuss this more in private.”
“But Grandmaster, letting an outsider-”
Zevran raised a hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s Liz.” His minions still seemed confused, but Zevran did not stop to explain, and she followed him.
Alone, he led her down a corridor at the back of the hall, across a courtyard, and into what seemed like a residential complex. He chose a door, seemingly at random, and walked in; she closed it firmly behind her. The room was small and plain, with only a bed and a desk and a coatrack, on which he casually hung his crow skull mask. The window was barred and shuttered, and only a little of the strong sunlight outside glowed through into the room, bathing it in a rather eerie light.
Now that they were alone, she wasn’t sure how to begin. Her anger still smouldered, but she hadn’t seen or heard from him in a long time. Things had slowly spiralled down into distance and disconnection for both of them, until at some point about three years previous, the letters had stopped entirely.
He seemed wary again, the sardonic smile on his face that masked whatever he was truly feeling and thinking. “Well, now we are alone. Would you like to talk, or would you like to murder me?”
“I can do the latter after the former, can’t I?” she grumbled, and her temper flared again. “Ten years. Ten years you’ve been gone! Do you know how long a Grey Warden’s lifespan is?”
“How long?” he asked cautiously, as if bracing himself for an unpleasant answer.
The answer wasn’t pleasant from her point of view. “Not long! Thirty years after my Joining, give or take. Probably take. If you wanted a relationship with me, time is running out. I thought you knew that! You didn’t even write for years! I don’t even know if we still have a relationship! How could you!?”
“I’m sorry that managing a Thedas-wide assassin organization takes all of my time and attention,” he answered sarcastically. “And why didn’t you get the bright idea of coming to visit sooner? It’s unfair to blame me for every part of our mess, mi amor. All you were doing was sitting in cushy little Amaranthine, weren’t you?”
Her chest heaved, her hands balled into fists. She’d already pointed out that he’d promised to return, and he’d acknowledged she was right. She couldn’t bring up that point again. And other than that, she had nothing to base her fury on. “You know how hard I work, don’t tell me about Amaranthine. Or I suppose you don’t know, since we were only together for a year. You don’t know me! And I don’t know you! How do I know you haven’t been flirting with every woman to cross your path? Like that beautiful woman back there?”
“Flirt with them, yes, sleep with them, no,” he snapped, his own expression darkening. “Which woman? I’ve been true to you, whatever you’ve been up to with Nathaniel and Alistair.”
“Nathaniel and Alistair have nothing to do with anything,” she growled. “I was faithful too! But for what point? I thought I loved you, even though I want to kill you right now. Do you love me?”
His amber eyes were serious. “I truly cared for you then, you know that, Elizabeth. But maybe you’re right. It’s been ten years. We’ve both changed. I want to love you-”
“Then prove it,” she snarled, stepping forward into his personal space.
“You prove it,” he answered, smirking, a challenging sneer that twisted his face and made him oh-so-ridiculously sexy.
For a moment, she hesitated, shades of the reserved girl she had once been slowing her decisions. Fine. She hadn’t come this far to not prove it. She reached out with both hands, grabbed his face, and smashed her lips into his.
She hadn’t kissed or been kissed in years, and the half-forgotten sensation hit her in the heart like an arrow, exploding through her body in a sheer wave of want. There wasn’t anything of love in it; it was rough, aggressive, even violent – their teeth clacked together at least once, jarring and horrible. She didn’t care. All that mattered was she was back in Zevran’s arms, and he was the only one she trusted with her entire being, and she’d been away from him for too long, and she needed him now. His breath on her face, the low growl building in his throat, his strong arms clutching at her waist, all of it was reminder of what she’d been missing for so long she almost didn’t notice how desperately she craved it.
They fell onto the bed, somehow enough of their clothes loosened that he could plunge into her, and she flung her head back, crying out at the welcome intrusion. Their joining was hard and fast and she hadn’t had this in forever and oh Maker it felt so good–
She screamed as she came, overly sensitive from the long dearth of stimulation. It took her a while to recover herself, panting and moaning and writhing in the aftermath. She hardly noticed what he did, only concerned with wringing every last bit of pleasure from the sensation.
When she was able to focus again, Zevran looked equally overwhelmed, like he wasn’t sure what had just happened. They hadn’t even gotten their armour off, and now she really was sweating underneath it. “So… that just happened.”
“That’s one way to duel,” she agreed, the teeth of her emotions pulled, and he chuckled.
“You did kill me, for I have died a ‘little death’,” he said. “Well. My dear, here we are, in Antiva, and the past is behind us and can’t be changed. Shall we start anew, and make the most of the time we have left together?”
She frowned. “Just like that?”
He shrugged. “As well as we can. Not even I think it will happen instantly. But…” He trailed off, and his hand went to cup her cheek, and there was a deep yearning in his eyes. “I’ve missed you, mi amor. I kept my word to you. There is no one else in my life.” A slight smile, that did nothing to change the yearning. “Though your jealousy is heartwarming.”
If she’d been younger, with the thinner skin she’d used to have, she would have blushed; instead, she only turned her gaze away, grumbling. “It shouldn’t be.” He laughed and leaned in for a kiss, a sweeter kiss. Her eyes were apologetic as they parted. “I missed you too. I wish I’d come to find you sooner.”
“How did you find me so quickly, anyway? Is my security that bad that a simple Grey Warden can march in within three days of arriving?”
“Leliana sent me a tip. And I don’t think your security has trained with the dwarves and the Dalish. So you did know I was in Amaranthine.”
“I did. I wanted to see what you would do to find me.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Testing me?”
“I just wanted to be sure you weren’t going to give up easily.”
“Playing hard to get? Zevran, I crossed the ocean for the first time for you. I’d fight another Blight for you. I’m not going home so easily. I think you were just shy.”
He smiled. “Perhaps.” She began pulling off her armour. “Want to go again?”
“Yes, but not yet. I’m just hot. Is it always this hot in Antiva?”
“I’m afraid so. But please, allow me to help.”
So she let him, his deftly gentle hands bereaving her of her swordbelt, hanging it beside his mask; her gloves, one finger at a time; her boots, kneeling at her feet; her ironbark plates, even her tunic and pants, until she was in her underthings, every touch caressing her, his lips paying homage to each new piece of exposed pale scarred skin. Even though she was still sweating, she shivered, with desire again, longing to have those strong arms around her again. And he let her do the same for him, pulling at buckles and black leather straps, tracing tattoos with her fingertips, threading her fingers through his golden hair. It was longer now, still pulled back, but down to his shoulderblades instead of just brushing his shoulders. Hers was pinned into the two braided buns it always was, and he unpinned them, casting the pins carelessly to the floor and undoing the bindings. She’d make him pick them up later.
She hadn’t planned on sex again immediately, but his kisses on her mouth, her throat, her shoulders, her cleavage, weakened her resolve. Her dark hair, down to her waist again, shot with silver, fanned out around her as he laid her down, spreading her legs and sliding back into her, tenderly now. And she opened herself to him, embracing him with all her heart, all her passion for him flooding through her, memories and feelings washing over her until she thought her heart would burst. She reached up and kissed him, pouring her desperate passionate longing into it, trying to show him her true feelings that she couldn’t in any other way. And when he released her from the kiss, her head fell back and she whined with the unbearably sweet torture she was undergoing, her back arching in pleasure.
“You still trust me,” he said, panting, as they came down from their high together.
“You still trust me,” she countered. “Does that mean we can love each other again, despite how we’ve changed in the last ten years?” That was all she wanted. All she had come here for. They’d had something once, and she wanted it again. Was that so bad?
His gaze was tender, and his voice was like music to her ears. “You haven’t truly changed, Liz. Matured, deepened, grown, but you’re still the same compassionate, stubborn, determined Liz who knocked me down and set me on my feet again. And I… you are still the most precious person in the world to me.”
“You’re right,” she said. “You’re still insufferable and cocksure and smug… and patient, and generous, and I adore you, your smile, your wit, your light. You are beautiful to me and I love you, I love you with all my heart…” He kissed her again.
“So what now?” he asked, gazing into her eyes as they lay side by side, one arm draped loosely over her waist. They’d had moments like this, long ago, some of the fondest memories of her life. “Will you be going back to Ferelden, now that you’ve found me, made sure I’ve been faithful?”
She shook her head a little. “No. Nathaniel is Commander of the Grey of Ferelden now. I have no pressing reason to return. I… I was hoping I could stay with you.”
“I would like that. But it won’t be easy, or safe. I have many enemies.”
“I guessed you might. I’m not afraid. I want to work.”
“A Grey Warden, become an assassin?” His eyes danced wickedly.
She shrugged with her eyes. “It would not be my first choice, but why should I turn my nose up at the work you do? And I refuse to be idle, set on a pedestal to be kept safe. I want to work.”
“I think I can manage something. A woman of your talents, skills, and experience would be most welcome under normal circumstances, let alone the consort of the Grandmaster.”
“Consort?” she asked, amused. “Is this actually your room? It doesn’t seem a room fit for the title of Grandmaster.”
“No, I don’t have a room of my own. Many of the Crows sleep in this building, and I pick a different room every night. Lessens the chances of successful assassinations.”
“How tiresome,” she said lightly. “Would I be allowed to share your randomly determined room?”
“My dear, I insist upon it. I wouldn’t trust you anywhere else.” He pulled her closer, gently, and began to kiss her throat and collarbone, his fingers tangling in her hair. She gasped and arched into him.
“Again!?” She was not surprised, only amused.
“I’ve been starved, this last decade. You can’t blame me.” His grin was wicked. “Besides, you want it as badly as I do.”
She did.

Part 2