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It was a risky plan, but Ramsay knew it was the best option they had. "You're sure you can set that up within two minutes?" they checked, rubbing their forehead. Zevran was talented, sure, but there were still limits to what he was capable of.
A warm hand cupped her cheek, causing their eyes to glance at the elf it belonged to. "You know me, I can last two minutes or practically an eternity," he teased, before planting a kiss on her cheek. Of course Zevran would think of their favourite pastime. And he could last quite long if he needed to... A soft chuckle pulled Ramsay's mind out of the gutter. They grabbed his hand, squeezing it once before letting go.
"Well, I need you to be done in two minutes. As attractive as your smear would be, I doubt it would be as skilled a masseuse as I'm going to need after this," she sighed. She gestured to a few folk behind them to bring a selection of items and spat out orders to the remaining folk.
As Zevran took the proffered items, he shot a twisted grin toward his partner. "Two minutes. I still plan on ravaging you in celebration," he chirped, before seemingly melding into the shadows. Ramsay hated how he could do that, just disappear before your eyes. It was, frankly, unsettling.
So they started counting. Fifteen seconds pass. Thirty. Then on forty-five they heard the first explosion and a surge of mist in the air. Ramsay slid her blades out of their sheathes as they counted under their breath.
Sixty seconds heralded the cry of an ogre. Shit. If it got to Zev before he could finish laying traps and planting explosives, he wouldn't make it out alive. But the other attackers at the gate were relying on him, Alistair was relying on him, and so were most of the people of Denerim.
By seventy-five seconds, Ramsay was itching to attack. The first few darkspawn were pouring through destroyed buildings and the damaged walls. Not enough though. The horde needed to come, and the call of their blood wasn't enough with the overwhelming song of the archdemon. Zevran was nowhere to be seen, but the explosions seemed to be drawing nearer.
She knew her archers had itchy trigger fingers as more hurlocks and genlocks started to filter into the clearing. More than anything she wanted to plunge her daggers into them and watch them bleed. But only ninety seconds had elapsed and she had left her impatience in the ruins of Highever. She signalled them to ready their bows.
Ramsay glanced over their shoulder to assess how much damage the other squads had taken. They were faltering back, and the warden was all too aware of how little time they had. One hundred and five seconds had passed and she needed Zevran to show in fifteen. She squinted, trying to make out any sign that he was alive.
Two minutes. Ramsay couldn't find Zevran and darkspawn weren't entering the clearing fast enough to warrant an assault. More than anything, her mind screamed to charge anyway. He had to be there, had to come back. Had to be at their side when they slew the archdemon. Yet she couldn't sacrifice Denerim for Zevran. As much as she wanted to.
She jumped at an arm wrapping itself around her shoulders. "Andraste's firm ass cheeks, don't scare me like that. We nearly left," Ramsay growled, slapping the person suddenly at her side. Even in the clamour of battle, they know it's Zevran based on the shape of his armour. "You need to get better with timing."
"Archers, forty five! Draw!" she shouted. The arm on her shoulders withdrew, likely to pull out his swords. They felt hands rummaging on their belt, a few quiet words explaining her acid coating was being swapped for fleshrot. Additional health poultices were slid into boots and pockets, before he kissed her cheek.
Any response Ramsay gave was drowned out by simultaneous explosions. Tainted bodies flooded into the clearing, scrambling into traps and tripping over one another. Zevran ignited a flare as Ramsay's lieutenant ordered the archers to fire. "Got my back?" Zevran asked, rocking on his toes as he prepared to dash into battle.
"Always. For some reason I trust an assassin with watching my back in battle," they confirmed before initiating the melee. Their unit was outmatched, but the flare should rally nearby units to their location.
In the thick of battle was where Ramsay felt most safe. No worrying about courtly manners or upsetting Father's allies. No distressing their parents over the lack of a suitable match. And definitely no concern over saying the right thing. Those things made battle easy, but their assassin, their Crow, their Zevran? Zevran parried the blows she couldn't see and would treat the wounds he couldn't block, the same as she did for him. They fought as one.
They wanted it no other way. The two of them cleared a path to the gates of Denerim, with the help of converging troops. As they broke through the gates, Zevran and Ramsay managed to pull aside, for a moment alone.
"How are you doing my love? Surely, you're not tired already," he smirked, pulling Ramsay into a tight hug. Blood and guts were spattered on his face. They took one of the larger chunks out of his hair and smeared away some of the drops running down his face. They never got a good look at him in battle, and if he was half as attractive as he was in the aftermath the pair would never get any fighting done.
They place a hand on his chest and nestle their head in the crook of his neck. "We're just getting started. We haven't made it to the good bits," she responded, enjoying the heat radiating off him. They traced the ornamentation on his breast. Zev hummed and pressed a kiss into their hair.
Ramsay kissed his neck before leaning back to look him in his eyes. "I hope you know when we're in battle I trust you with my life," they sighed. She focused on his lips, wanting to kiss him senseless. But now wasn't the time or place.
"And I you. When I feel your blade slide by and stab someone I miss, that's when I am most sure about us. Even in the chaos, you're there," Zev responded huskily. They see a look in his face, one that suggested he desired them carnally. A look that also knew that their enjoyment of each other would have to wait.
They knew he craved battling alongside them. But to fight an archdemon, a dragon? She couldn't ask that of him. "I don't want to lose you," she whispered, a small tremble in her voice. "I might die. You might die. I can't ask you to fight the archdemon with me."
Zevran tightened his grip on them, as if they could be impossibly closer. "I would rather die at your side, knowing I tried to save you. If I lived knowing it might have been different were I at your side..." he urged. His voice cracked, trailing off. "Let me fight with you. That way the ravishing part can come quicker."
Ramsay looked up at the blond elf and nodded. "Okay," they stated.
"Okay?" Zevran responded.
"Together. We'll survive together," they stated, before pulling him into a crushing kiss.