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[Shadow of Light Dragon]

(Also on FF.Net.)

Author’s Notes: Dear Readers, this fic is a sequel to 'Dragon Age: The Hunt'. While that tale is not necessary reading in order to enjoy this one, The Kill will have some references to events and characters from its predecessor, and certain companions from the game will remain affected by what happened in the first story.

The Kill will also be making references to the City Elf Origin, which in this setting Duncan was not present for, so if anything in that game scenario disturbed you then be warned there will eventually be mention of it here.

To readers of The Hunt, welcome back.

**

Zevran dashed between the night-darkened trees towards the noises of clashing steel and raised voices.

A short distance away on his right there was an elven shadow with a bow keeping easy pace, and on his left a human with twin swords. The three of them had been coming in from the east to attempt an unseen flank against a band of darkspawn, an attack that should have coincided with a more direct assault planned by the Warden Commander, but by the sounds of things something had gone wrong.

Boots pounded against damp soil and fallen leaves, all colour muted in the darkness until, from up ahead, there was a ghastly roar followed by a brilliant golden light. Zevran cleared the last tree just in time to see one of two hurlock emissaries with its arms outstretched towards the Commander, flames jetting from its fingertips. Asleena had one arm upraised and her helmeted head turned away, but was still moving towards the monster as the fire danced around her dragonbone armour. Two other darkspawn that had been caught in the blaze were writhing on the leaf-strewn ground behind her.

The colder, starker flash of lightning illuminated the clearing as the second emissary finished a spell of its own, sending crackling energy lancing between bodies to the sound of pained shouts, but then it flew backwards as Alistair leapt and slammed Duncan’s shield into its body. He was forced away from a killing blow as four darkspawn archers targeted him with their bows.

“Shield the civilians!” Asleena shouted, still surrounded by flames, and it was only then that Zevran noticed the cowering trio of peasants crouched to one side, currently being protected by a sword-wielding elven woman who was aglow with magic. Sindel’s face was a mask of fury as she employed her Arcane Warrior training to hold two genlocks at bay with spell and blade, and Alistair was quickly beside her as he used shield and body to block the huddled people from wayward arrows.

Zevran glanced quickly at his two companions. The elf, Galahan, was already nocking an arrow to his bowstring and taking aim at the emissary Alistair had knocked down. The human, Xai, sped straight for the cluster of archers and impaled two from behind before they even knew he was there.

Zevran darted around the edge of the clearing, angling for the emissary attacking Asleena and avoiding notice until he could come up behind it. His sword slid from its scabbard across his back, then smoothly between the hurlock’s ribs and out its chest. The beast arched backwards with a gurgle at the blow, and Zevran, feeling the long-familiar death-quiver travelling from his blade to tremble up his arm, indulged himself with a satisfied grin.

That is how it is done.

A second later there was a swish of heavy metal and the emissary’s head parted company with its shoulders. Foul-smelling blood fountained from the stump, a good potion of it splattering straight into Zevran’s hair.

The assassin let his victim slide to the ground with a sigh and gave Asleena a reproachful look. “Thank you ever so much,” he said dryly, running a couple of fingers over his sullied blond locks.

“Oh, I’ve given you an excuse to tumble another servant in the bathtub, have I?” she riposted with a slight smirk and arched brow visible behind the nose guard of her helm. “Is this where I’m meant to apologise?”

Zevran laughed. “There are still a fair few darkspawn as yet unslain,” he pointed out. “Be sure to properly dirty me up, my Grey Warden.”

Without the support of their spellcasters, the remaining darkspawn did not take long to dispatch between the combined force of five Grey Wardens and a former Antivan Crow. The clearing and its occupants were liberally soaked in blood by the time it was all over, but the fight had Zevran in high spirits. He’d escaped without a wound too, which was always a nice boost to his pride.

Wiping his blades clean, he ambled over to where Asleena was talking quietly to Galahan.

“…didn’t have much choice but to follow her when she ran ahead,” the Warden Commander was saying, keeping her voice low as she nodded to where Sindel, with Alistair’s aid, was tending to the civilians the darkspawn had captured. “There was no harm this time, but if you, Zevran and Xai hadn’t been coming in to back us up things would have turned nasty very quickly.”

“Do you want me to talk to her about it?” the Dalish hunter replied.

Asleena sighed and leaned on her sword Yusaris. “Her reaction is perfectly understandable. Had the darkspawn actually been doing anything to them I’m positive I’d have charged just as quickly…but they weren’t. Just seeing them tied up provoked her. Talk to her about it if you like, she is your bonded, but I’ll have to bring it up to her too once we get back to Highever.” Asleena grimaced. “I’m her commander.”

Galahan nodded, shouldered his bow and crossed the clearing to his wife. Zevran glanced at Asleena, who was counting darkspawn corpses under her breath. Xai was making a circuit of the bodies, double-checking to ensure they were all dead.

“I thought the Blight ended a year ago,” Zevran remarked once Asleena had finished her tally and shaken her head.

“It did,” she muttered, pulling off her helmet. She ran a hand through her dark, sweaty hair “This makes no sense, Zev. They should be retreating to the Deep Roads, not pushing towards the coast, but every month their presence just increases. It’s too organised.”

“Another archdemon?” he suggested.

She shook her head again, firmly this time. “No…of that we’re sure of.”

“No dreams,” Alistair put in, coming up to join them as he slung his shield across his back.

“I might have to go to Denerim or Amaranthine to get some answers,” Asleena said, with noticeable reluctance. Alistair, too, looked unhappy at the suggestion. “We can discuss it when we return to the castle, but we all knew I’d have to go eventually.”

Zevran was well aware that Alistair had no desire to visit Denerim, and some of his reasons were actually good ones. Grinning, the assassin threw a companionable arm around the former Templar’s armoured shoulder and said, “Take heart, my friend! I can accompany your fair lady to Ferelden’s capital, and I swear to you right here that I will allow no trouble to befall her.”

“Zevran,” Alistair said with marked patience, “you are trouble.”

“But I will not befall her.” Zevran winked at Asleena, who rolled her eyes, folded her arms and regarded both men with commingled irritation and amusement.

“I could order you to stay here,” she told him.

“Truly?” the Antivan murmured, still smiling. “I do so adore a woman who gives orders. What say you, my good friend Alistair? Do you not love it when she gives you orders?”

“Er. Sometimes? I guess?”

“Only sometimes? Why, just the other evening I happened to be passing by the room you two share, and I heard her ordering you to press your—“

“Woah!” Alistair blushed to the roots of his hair, hastily disentangling himself from the assassin’s half-embrace while Asleena made a sound that was halfway between choking and laughter. “That stuff’s personal!”

“You did seem to be quite enjoying it as I recall, yes, but next time might I suggest flexing your—“

“That is so it,” Alistair interrupted, rounding on Asleena. “I’m going to talk to your brother when we get back to the castle. We’re getting a thicker door. A much thicker door.”

He stalked off towards Galahan and Sindel, muttering to himself and leaving Asleena to fix the grinning Zevran with a reproving look that didn’t quite hide her smile.

“He’s right, you know,” she said. “You’re trouble.”

“One of my many fine qualities,” he agreed with a florid bow. “So, shall I be accompanying you to Denerim? I must admit I am interested to see the big city again after so many months.”

“The Crows might have re-established a cell there since the siege.”

“And if they try anything, we will kill them quite messily, no? Besides, perhaps a change of scenery is in order. I have rather missed the excitement of travelling and getting tangled up in villainous plots.”

She smiled at that. “We’ll talk it over at the castle. We should get these people to safety and healing first.”

If any healing will help them.

The Warden Commander left those words unspoken, but Zevran knew she thought them every time they came across a situation such as this. He watched her go over to Sindel and Alistair before he himself went to help Galahan drag the corpses into a pile for burning.

Sometimes the darkspawn captives hadn’t been taken or tainted. Sometimes they were broken beyond saving. Frequently, all that could be done for them was to kill them. It was an act of mercy in Zevran’s eyes, a release from a slow and painful descent into inevitable madness, but Asleena, Alistair and Sindel took every such case hard. Galahan didn’t seem to mind it so much, or perhaps he merely hid it well. And as for Xai Merras…

Zevran glanced to where the former master Crow was standing watch, blades still unsheathed and dripping blood.

The first time they had encountered darkspawn with prisoners, several months ago, they had found a young elven man who was showing all the signs of becoming a ghoul. Xai had offered to do the deed when Asleena’s sword had wavered, but as soon as the words had left his lips the Warden Commander had acted, swift and fatal, the first of many tainted innocents to die by her blade because she was incapable of ordering another to do such a thing on her behalf.

Xai still knew how to make the kill without wielding a weapon.


**

Later that night, a fire was blazing in the gigantic hearth of Castle Cousland’s entrance hall and the companions stood or sat at varying definitions of ‘at ease’ in the comfortable glow of warmth. For Zevran, this amounted to lounging back in a velvet-upholstered chair with one leg hooked casually over a carved wooden arm, a posture that showed off a decent portion of tanned, lithely-muscled calf and thigh to anyone who cared look his way.

Not that living in luxury for the past several months had made him complacent. He kept an eye on the doors leading into the hall as well as glancing to the high ceilings every so often. The Crows had never attempted anything while he’d been here (he suspected the guild did not dare any sort of attack on Asleena’s home after what had happened with Rendon Howe), and he had made no small efforts of his own to identify weak points in the keep, blind areas where the household guard didn’t look, and generally assist in the security of the castle. This had earned him the gratitude of Teyrn Fergus, an actual income, and a certain level of self-satisfaction that any assassins who came looking to fulfil a contract at Castle Cousland would be in for all sorts of unpleasant surprises.

Otherwise, when he wasn’t relaxing or enjoying the pleasures Highever had to offer, Zevran had made himself useful training both the household guard and the Grey Warden recruits—although the latter had been limited to Galahan and Sindel. Xai Merras tended to smirk at the notion that Zevran could teach him a single useful move he didn’t already know, and deigned to spar only at Asleena’s request.

Thought of the master assassin again caused Zevran to cast his eyes in the man’s direction. Xai was standing in half-shadow by the fireplace and listening intently to something Asleena was saying to him. She was the only person the man took orders from without question and, as far as Zevran was aware, the only person he openly spoke with. Oh, he would talk to anyone, but personal questions were deflected or answered vaguely unless one happened to be the Warden Commander. Even Galahan, who had a talent for drawing people out and learning what drove them, admitted he remained in the dark where Xai was concerned. The master assassin knew how to hide, and whatever confidences he shared with Asleena were kept private. All she had revealed was that Xai considered it risky to allow Zevran’s presence in Highever, believing it would sooner or later attract Crows and possibly result in collateral damage.

Asleena had accepted her recruit’s position, told him in no uncertain terms that Zevran would only be leaving when he chose to, then ordered that if Zevran was ever in significant danger then Xai was to defend his life with as much zeal as he would Asleena’s.

Personally, Zevran hoped he would never have to thank Xai for saving his life.

One of the doors opened and Teyrn Fergus stepped into the hall, flanked by two guards. Those who were sitting made to rise, but the young lord waved them all back into their seats.

“It’s too late to bother with formalities, my friends,” he said with a tired smile, then glanced to his sister. “What’s this all about?”

“The darkspawn threat isn’t easing, Fergus,” she replied bluntly. “If anything, it’s getting worse. I want to ride for Denerim and then Amaranthine to work out what’s going on. Some of the more senior Grey Wardens have to know something.”

Fergus instantly looked concerned. “You’re not taking everyone with you, are you?”

“And leave Highever unprotected?” Asleena grinned. “You know me better than that. No, that’s what I wanted to talk about. I suggest that Alistair remains here with Galahan and Sindel to assist.”

“I still think leaving me in charge is a bad idea,” Alistair pointed out. “But…I guess I have two good friends to back me up, or kick me if I do something stupid.” The ex-Templar looked to the Dalish couple with a wry smile. “You will let me know if I forget to put my pants on the right way around, won’t you?”

“You’re not going with Asleena?” Fergus asked, looking surprised.

“We talked about it,” Alistair admitted. “The thing is…when someone attempts a coup on the throne in your name, it makes things really awkward when you want to pay a friendly visit to court. I’m even less popular in Ferelden now than I was a year ago.”

Only ten days past the palace at Denerim had been infiltrated and armed men and women had made a bold attempt to seize the crown from Anora in the name of ‘King Alistair Theirin’. There had been no proof of Alistair’s involvement, but enough people had died in the bloodbath to stir ill will.

“I’m going to talk to Anora about that,” Asleena promised. “I’ll get your name cleared. If both Fergus and I can vouch for you, that should prevent official repercussions.”

Fergus nodded. “Everyone in Highever is behind you in this, Alistair,” he said. “You’re out there almost every day helping to fight the darkspawn. I’ll vouch for you, if necessary.”

Asleena said, “As for me going to Denerim, I’ll take Ferrix if he’s healed by tomorrow morning.”

Ferrix, Asleena’s mabari warhound, had finally fallen afoul of the blight sickness…naturally several months after the end of the Blight. Remedies existed for the magically-bred hounds, however, and he was slowly recovering. Zevran had heard that surviving the infection would even grant the dog an immunity from becoming ill a second time.

“Zevran has also offered to come along," Asleena continued, "and Xai will be riding with us.”

The two former Crows exchanged a look, the human with a faint smile, the elf with a resigned shake of his head.

“Marvellous,” Zevran said sourly.

Modifié par Shadow of Light Dragon, 27 décembre 2011 - 11:39 .

[Corker]

*fist pump* Woo! SoLD is back and with more Xai!

[Jules8445]

YESSSSSSSS!



I've been checking every day for this to show up! So stoked to read more!

[Shadow of Light Dragon]

Thanks guys Hopefully the frequency of posts will pick up soon. Didn't expect a busy week.


Part 2 - Highever

There was a long, contented sigh as Zevran ran a gloved hand down shoulder, across ribs and over a hip.

“I suppose this will be the last we see of each other for a time,” the elf said musingly, his head canted back against the wooden wall as his fingers rubbed back up the warm body pressed to his hip and thigh.

His companion shifted slightly, rolling over to allow more access but otherwise silent.

“No need to say anything,” Zevran went on, “I shall miss these moments of ours almost as much as you, my friend. Although I suspect you will find a replacement for me quite soon enough, no?”

Ferrix made a grumbling sound.

“But it’s true. You need only roll over and any number of young men and women will want to rub your belly.” Zevran grinned as he scratched just beneath the last rib in that sensitive spot that made one of the mabari’s hind legs twitch. “Another benefit to being a dog, yes?”

There was a lazy blink of brown eyes at this and a grunt.

“Quite so. It is like the canine equivalent to sauntering around with one’s shirt off. And being sick? Attention and table scraps will be showered upon you, my friend.”

Ferrix rolled over to lie on his stomach and settled his heavy head in Zevran’s lap, whimpering softly. The assassin chuckled, hoping the dog was simply playing up his discomfort to take advantage, and slipped him a piece of dried meat. He always kept a few treats hidden about his person, purely for bribery purposes if anyone asked, but supposed he wouldn’t be needing them after today.

“Yes, I shall be terribly sad to part ways with such a fine companion,” he said, half to himself as the dog munched on the snack and left drool on his leathers.

It was dawn and Zevran would be leaving Highever today. After a round of farewells to various people he’d made the acquaintances of over the past few months, he’d found himself in the stables and sitting in the stall Ferrix had reserved for himself. The mabari liked the horses and the hay, and as he couldn’t be kept inside while sick Asleena had brought his blankets down here.

As much as Zevran liked to remark on the warhound’s smell and inability to clean up after himself, he had a fondness for the animal. Ferrix never asked questions and was always inexplicably happy to see him. And he was a more agreeable companion than Xai Merras by far.

“What do you think of our resident master assassin, my friend?” he asked Ferrix. “Do you like him?”

Ferrix’s stubby tail wagged once or twice. Zevran frowned.

“Hm. But you like me more, yes?”

For answer, the mabari lifted his head and proceeded to lick Zevran’s face. With enthusiasm.

Asleena’s amused voice said, “When you said you wanted to say goodbye to a few people, Zev, I had no idea…”

Zevran cracked an eye open on the side that wasn’t being liberally smeared with saliva and grinned up at the armoured woman leaning over the door of the stall. “I will take my kisses where I can get them, my dear.”

“So I see.” She reached down, having to stretch to scratch Ferrix’s head. “And you’re still worrying about Xai. You can remain in Highever, you know.”

“I would sooner drink that foul swill Oghren brews than watch you and Xai head off together,” Zevran replied darkly as he rose to his feet. “I neither trust him nor like him.”

Animosity wasn’t something Zevran was accustomed to. He’d known dislike, disdain and scorn, but couldn’t rightly say if he’d ever hated anyone, and definitely not so far as to want to slit their throat or season their evening tea with something painful and deadly. Murder had always been an impersonal act for him…and one he’d been paid quite well for.

Xai frequently toed that line though. He would say something apparently innocuous, Zevran would take the bait, then some detail of his Crow past would be dredged up and cast in as foul a light as the context would allow for all to hear. Worse, Zevran knew he was being played but couldn’t manage to keep his mouth shut half the time. It left him irritated enough that he inevitably failed to follow up with clever ripostes or witty jokes, anything that would have his friends grinning rather than exchanging uneasy glances…

And the human smiled every time it happened. “Like a smug bastard,” Alistair had said on more than one occasion.

Zevran had not been able to figure out if Xai’s cheerful needling was for pure entertainment value, a deliberate goad or to some other point. He certainly didn’t single out anyone else—no one in Asleena’s direct sphere of influence, anyway.

She opened the gate for him now. “At least he’s not trying to kill you.”

Zevran snorted, stood and brushed straw from his armour. “For the opportunity to shove my sword through his chest and claim self-defence I would welcome the attempt. Do you trust him?”

“Not as much as I trust you,” she said, which Zevran took to mean that she did, if only a bit. When he scowled, she sighed. “Listen…I’d rather we keep an eye on him than let Alistair, Galahan and Sindel deal with his presence. Those three make a good team, and I think the Dalish would be a better influence on Alistair without Xai being around. Alistair can learn a lot about leadership from them, and they know how to guide without mocking.”

“Hmm.” Zevran narrowed his eyes slightly and smiled. “What are you not telling me, my dear? Surely you are not bringing Xai Merras along to Denerim just so the two of us can keep him out of the way?”

“I also think he’d be useful looking out for Crows,” Asleena said. “He can provide some additional protection for both of us.”

Zevran made a disgusted noise. “Did I ever tell you how little I approve of the idea of him watching our backs?”

“Yes, actually,” she said dryly, taking his place in the stall and kneeling to give Ferrix a goodbye hug. “You might be able to stay suspicious of him forever, Zev, but I can’t afford to ostracise him. Like it or not, Xai is a Grey Warden.”

“Do you like him?” Zevran pressed.

“I don’t care for how he treats you,” Asleena replied, glancing up at him. “I…think I understand him, though, from what he’s told me of himself.”

If what he’s told you is true, Zevran thought to himself, but out loud he noted, “Understanding isn’t the same as liking.”

“No,” she agreed, unsmiling. “It isn’t.” Settling down on the floor with Ferrix, she changed the subject. “We’ll be leaving in a few minutes. The horses are in the courtyard and the others are waiting there to see us off. Galahan was waiting for you to show up…he said he wanted to talk to you about something.”

Recognising this as a subtle request for him to leave her with Ferrix so she could say her own farewells, he nodded and crouched to give the mabari a final pat on the head.

“Bonne niviati,” he said. “Be well, my friend. When we return I will expect at least a dozen fair maidens rhapsodizing about how you rescued them from evil towers or darkspawn or other such ugly fates.”

Ferrix wagged his tail and made a wuffling noise while Asleena smiled softly, and Zevran strode out of the stable before he could feel any more awkward about getting sentimental over saying goodbye to a dog.

Outside it was all clear skies and the promise of fair weather, an excellent start for a day of riding. The stable had been a late addition to Castle Cousland, built after the end of the Blight between the outer walls of the keep and castle proper, erected chiefly to give Asleena’s warhorse (along with Zevran and Alistair’s lesser animals) a dry place to sleep and provide suitable storage for riding tack. Horses were not common in Ferelden, but since the Orlesian Chevaliers had assisted in beating back the darkspawn, the animals were steadily growing in popularity. In the south, away from the troubles plaguing the Coastlands, some banns had started purchasing horses for breeding.

Zevran made his way to the courtyard and found, as predicted, three horses saddled and ready for the ride to Denerim. Bridles were being gripped by servants, and a number of bystanders had gathered to watch the eventual departure. Among the throng stood Galahan, who was talking with Sindel, Alistair and Fergus until he caught sight of Zevran, excused himself and walked over.

“Come to bid me a fond farewell?” Zevran asked with a grin when the golden-haired hunter drew near.

“You will be missed,” the other man said, “by more people than you may believe, I think.”

Zevran shrugged at that, not sure himself if he did believe, and glanced up at the high towers. “I have grown fond of the place, I admit, and the company has not been bad. I daresay the air will smell sweeter with a certain man leaving in my company.”

“I wish I could give you some advice regarding him,” Galahan murmured, his eyes flicking briefly to an alcove wherein a solitary shadow leaned against a wall. “Asleena seems to trust him somewhat, and while I trust her…I remain wary. I suspect his training as a Crow was more thorough than your own.”

“This would not surprise me,” Zevran said. “Masters are said to be tested rigorously before they are promoted. More fun on the rack, perhaps.” He cocked his head. “Is this what you told Asleena you wished to speak to me about?”

“Oh…no. I dreamed about you last night.”

“Truly? Well, it was bound to happen eventually,” Zevran replied with a wicked grin, placing a hand on his friend’s leather-clad shoulder. “Our romp in the Fade was pleasant, I hope? You enjoyed yourself?”

“Very much, yes,” the hunter agreed, his expression grave but a smile in his green eyes. “A pity you don’t recall any of it, lethallin.”

Zevran sighed. “It is most unfair, yes. And now you come to torture me with the delicious details. What were we up to, then?”

“’We’?” Galahan shook his head sadly. “Unfortunately I was only watching your adventure. I did not take part.”

“So we both missed out? Alas. But what was I doing, if it was not a handsome Dalish Warden?”

A slight smile curved Galahan’s lips. “Flying. You touched the sky.”

Zevran deliberately lifted his brows. “And this warrants mentioning because...?”

Galahan’s smile broadened. “Dreams have long been of interest to me. It is how I first started taking an interest in Alistair when we met in the Free Marches.

“Dirthamen, the Keeper of Secrets, once walked with those who ventured beyond the Veil and explained the meanings behind what the dreamers saw. When he was sealed away with the other Creators, his guidance was lost. We still dream, but what we see is often clouded, forgotten or corrupted by our fears. More often than not they are meaningless to us, but some dreams share a common theme and the People…remember, or recover lore from the days of Arlathan that grants clarity.

“This dream I had of you, such as I remember it, is…auspicious.”

“You are being vague, my friend,” Zevran remarked, clicking his tongue reprovingly. “Telling me nothing with many words. Usually you reveal a lot more with far fewer.”

“Abelas,” Galahan apologised, chuckling. “Interpreting dreams is imprecise and I have no wish to give you an explanation that may prove misguided or incomplete.” He spread his hands. “I woke…feeling I had to share this with you. There is a Dalish saying about touching the sky…but another time. Perhaps when you return and tell us of your travels it will mean something.”

“Perhaps,” Zevran said, a touch wryly. In his opinion prophetic dreams and fortune-tellings often ‘made sense’ in retrospect, but he respected Galahan too much to voice this. “I think I prefer my own dreams. Would you like me to describe the one I had last night to you?”

“I’m surprised you had time to dream at all, lethallin. Weren’t you busy saying goodbye to people?”

Zevran laughed and nodded towards Alistair, Fergus and Sindel. “Is this my cue to farewell your wife?”

“Be my guest. Just remember that you taught her how to fend off unwanted attention with a sword.”

“Naturally.” Zevran grinned. “After all, how could I forget such a beautiful sparring partner?”

They both wandered over, Zevran taking the opportunity to press a lingering kiss to Sindel’s fingers and grip the wrists of the two humans.

“Dareth shirel,” Sindel said, smiling. “It won’t be the same without you and Asleena around.”

Fergus was grinning at that. “Well I, for one, am glad to see you go, Zev. Maybe when you’re gone I’ll be able to attract a lady who won’t melt at the mere sight of you slinking through Highever’s halls, or the sound of your smooth, Maker-cursed Antivan accent.”

They all laughed, in part because Zevran did tend to pull the eyes of visiting Ferelden ladies, but mostly because it was Fergus making the jest. For a long time after losing his wife and son he had been reluctant to endure the attentions of the opposite sex, and his humour on such subjects (something Asleena said he’d used to joke about all the time) had been slow to return.

Zevran liked to think he’d had a hand in that recovery.

Alistair said, “Watch your back out there, and come back in one piece. Oh, and if you return feeling some pressing need to prove a point with me…could you just hit me next time?”

“Hit you?” Zevran echoed innocently, then tsked. “I do not think that would be a good idea, my friend. Hands are delicate instruments in my line of work and you have a manly, chiselled jaw. I would hate to hurt myself.”

“So…you’d rather I hit you?”

“Hrm. I am quite fond of my face.” Zevran smiled. “But if you wish to hit me elsewhere, I would not object to a good spanking.”

“S…sp-spank you? I don’t…think…” Alistair stopped, gave Zevran a long look, then said, “If I shut up now, I won’t be able to look like an idiot. So I’ll do that.”

Zevran only grinned. He didn’t say he’d watch out for Asleena on the road, and Alistair didn’t ask him to. Both men knew some things didn’t have to be said. While Zevran doubted he’d ever consider the former Templar a close friend, they had reached an accord of sorts since Starkhaven. That Alistair trusted the assassin at his back in a fight now was a big step from almost two years ago, when the Warden had loudly protested accepting Zevran into the party after the attempt on his and Asleena’s lives.

A few minutes passed of idle talk while they waited for Asleena to return, and when the Warden Commander entered the courtyard there was a general stir as humans and elves turned to look. She was a popular figure in her ancestral home. Not only was it widely known that one of the Teyrn’s family personally fought the darkspawn to protect their homes, she made frequent visits to the local Alienage with Galahan and Sindel, at the latter’s request, then discussed with her brother how things might be improved there. Seeing the lot of Denerim’s elves during the Blight had opened her eyes, and she seemed determined that those who lived in Highever would be treated more fairly.

Xai detached from his wall to shadow her as she approached her friends, lover and brother, but kept a respectful distance when she reached the group and made her own farewells. She embraced all of them in turn, kissing her brother on the cheek and Alistair on the lips (provoking a few cheers and whistles from the crowd, which made both Wardens blush).

Zevran was able to smile at the spectacle, but did not watch too attentively. His affection for Asleena had not disappeared but enough time had passed that he was comfortable with how things were, and he considered himself too practical to pine for something he would never possess. It was clear who held her heart. Alistair’s moral values were more in tune with Asleena’s own, and even if they squabbled like children at times they were undoubtedly in love.

And then, a moment later, horses were being mounted and the Warden Commander was leading the way out the gates on her grey charger. There were some shouted farewells and benedictions for Maker’s blessings from behind, and Asleena laughed.

“The way they’re carrying on you’d think we were planning to be away for weeks!”

“Asleena, my dear,” Zevran remarked, “where you go, interesting things happen and interesting people die in interesting ways. We may well be away for more than a little while.”

She looked back at him and made a face. “Maybe. But we’re only going to Denerim and Amaranthine. It’s really not that far.”

“Which one were you planning on visiting first, if I may ask?”

“Denerim. It’s further away, but I want to handle Anora first. We can then take the Pilgrim’s Path north to the arling and head home along the coast.” She turned to glance at Xai Merras then. “There will be darkspawn along the way, so try sensing them as best you can and let me know when you feel anything. I want to see how you’re developing.”

“So it shall be, Commander,” he agreed.

“All right.” Asleena turned her face ahead and rubbed the neck of her stallion. “Let’s get some distance behind us.”

Heels pressed to flanks and the horses picked up speed, bearing the three travellers towards Denerim City.

[Jules8445]

Nice start I was just thinking to myself that if this were a book I'd bought, my entire day would be wasted because I'd JUST HAVE to read the whole thing in one sitting.



So, thanks, for keeping me from being a hermit.

[Arassi]

First they announce DA 2, then I find your new story. Can my week get any better? I gotta say it, "We're not worthy! We're not worthy!"



I'm with Zev, I don't trust him...

[Shadow of Light Dragon]

Hehe, I'm a little sad DA2 looks like it'll be in the Free Marches, since there's a very good chance it'll make areas I visited in The Hunt different one way or another. I take being canon too seriously. XD

Part 3 - Denerim

It took longer than usual to reach Denerim; a full week, due to the troubles along the way. They travelled cross-country at a canter most of the time, southeast across the Bannorn to skirt the Hafter River before finally reaching the West Road which would lead them directly to the city. While patrols were doing what they could at keeping the lands clear of darkspawn, they didn’t have the advantages Grey Wardens possessed of sensing nearby but unseen threats. As a result, Asleena and (more frequently) Xai constantly reined in their horses to look off in some seemingly random direction before saying something along the lines of, “A small group of darkspawn is at rest,” or “A larger force is in conflict.” This led to inevitable deviations and, almost always, violence. On one occasion they had sat in their saddles to watch from a grassy hilltop as two groups of darkspawn butchered each other for no readily apparent reason, only to ride in afterwards and take care of the victors.

Sometimes the three slept in shifts, but occasionally they were fortunate enough to meet up with patrols and share their camps for the evening. Once convinced of the riders’ identities (Asleena had brought both her family signet ring and a Grey Warden token), the soldiers were always more than happy to accommodate them. Zevran assumed they were going on the principle that a Grey Warden would be able to sense any threats sneaking up on them in the night. He wondered, with a hint of amusement, if any of them knew the taint-sense worked both ways.

The journey itself, or the company rather, wasn’t as unpleasant as Zevran had expected it to be. Asleena would speak to each assassin in turn, and the one she was not addressing at the time would keep out of the conversation completely. On Zevran’s part this was a conscious effort to keep his mouth shut at times, but he couldn’t tell if Xai had been ordered to behave or not. He noticed the Warden Commander made no attempt to get her two companions talking to each other—a relief when he thought about it, though at one point he wondered if the effort to avoid friction wearied her. She even took the second watch on nights they had no other company, just so neither assassin would be forced to wake the other.

Zevran couldn’t have called the whole trip enjoyable, however. He was simply unable to relax with the former master around, and constantly looked forward to the end of each day where Xai would retire for the evening, leaving Asleena and him alone at the campfire for a time.

He was relieved when the walls of Denerim came into view, though he masked it with a wry comment: “There it is: the jewel of Ferelden’s crown, as our friend Leliana would say. Do you think it is still as muddy and dog-infested as it was last time?”

“And Antiva, with its corrupt politicians and assassins is any better?” Asleena said in a mild voice.

“One can have quite a pleasant evening with a politician or assassin, my dear. Dogs and mud, on the other hand…not as appealing.” Zevran paused, then amended, “Though in certain situations, mud can be put to pleasurable use…hm. Perhaps I have been looking at Denerim from completely the wrong angle for all this time.”

“I don’t want to know.”

Zevran grinned. “That is entirely your choice, of course.”

“Do you have an opinion on Denerim, Xai?” she asked the other assassin.

“Given its recent history,” the man replied, “I would say Denerim has its own share of corrupt politicians, Commander. And what was the coup if not an assassination attempt, albeit a poor one?”

“So we’ve established that Ferelden’s shining jewel isn’t so immaculate,” Asleena said dryly.

“Did you ever believe otherwise, Commander?”

“Once. When I was younger than I am now.” She nodded towards the distant bulk of the palace. “Let’s pay Her Majesty a visit.”

The ride to the palace was uneventful. Although Zevran knew three armed riders were unlikely to be challenged, he kept his eyes open for ambitious bowmen all the same.

“Whatever happened to that Crow who attacked us in Denerim after the coronation?” he asked. “Did we ever find out the reasons behind that?”

“Anora had him hanged before Xai got to question him,” Asleena replied. “He also tried to track down Master Ignacio for some answers, but didn’t find anything. Ignacio probably cleared out of Denerim before the siege.”

“Xai found nothing,” Zevran repeated, his tone flat. “Truly.”

“Don’t worry, Zevran,” Xai said with a smile. “I am to try and locate a Crow cell again on our current visit. You will be able to accuse me of whatever dire plots you wish.”

“You think they will just let you in for a chat,” Zevran retorted, “after leaving them for the Grey Wardens?”

A dark brow quirked upwards, that insufferable smile widening a taunting fraction. “Why not? I never failed any of my contracts, and I was recruited into the Grey. I didn’t grovel to be taken in.”

“If Xai still has any connections, Zev,” Asleena interrupted before the elf could do more than grind his teeth, “I’m going to try to get some use out of them. I want to know if anything’s going on, and if I can get the Crows off your back as well as mine and Alistair’s, so much the better.”

“I doubt it will be so easy as asking, my dear,” Zevran pointed out, trying to control his annoyance. “Ignacio wanted you to take contracts from him, no? And even then he said the price on your head would not simply go away.”

“We’ll see. That’s what Xai’s going to try and find out.”

“Zevran is correct about the contract not being lifted, Commander,” Xai said, becoming serious. “The best you can hope for is convincing other cells not to assist in any future attempts.”

“Reducing the threat is better than nothing. But what about getting them to leave Zevran alone?”

Xai only shook his head. “One day they will come for him.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Zevran muttered under his breath, his eyes on the former master rather than the rooftops.

**

The damage dealt by the darkspawn had almost been completely erased in the more affluent sections of the city, and from what Zevran could judge the Watch had been restored to a respectable number. There were no signs of Orlesian soldiers or chevaliers; these had returned west some time ago, both at Anora’s proclamation that Ferelden had regained enough strength at arms to stand on its own, and in order to fight the darkspawn threatening Orlais’ south-eastern borders.

When they reached the palace and Asleena requested an audience with the queen, the chancellor (one Lord Uisdean) greeted them in an office off the main entrance hall.

“Warden Commander,” he said, rising from his chair with a bow. Uisdean was an aging Ferelden gentleman with sharp blue eyes, and while he wore courtly attire there was also a serviceable sword at his side. “This is unexpected. May I offer you or your companions refreshments?”

“Wine, if it’s not too much trouble,” Asleena said, and glanced to the men flanking her. Xai shook his head, but Zevran indicated he would have a glass.

“Regretfully, Commander, Queen Anora is not in Denerim at this point in time,” Uisdean said once servants had poured drinks. “After the attempt on her throne earlier this month, Ser Cauthrien thought it prudent to remove Her Majesty from the palace while those of us left here ensured no more…rebels had infiltrated the grounds. I do not know when she will return, but she left in the protection of Maric’s Shield.”

“I had hoped to discuss the coup, specifically Alistair’s part in it,” Asleena said. “I can secure several testimonies to his recent whereabouts and actions, from both Grey Wardens and the Teyrn of Highever, possibly even the Arl of West Hill if required.”

“While I can see that the queen receives these testimonies, it will be her judgement on how to proceed with them,” Uisdean replied.

“I don’t have them written down,” Asleena admitted. “I was hoping I could simply discuss the matter with the queen first. We have worked to agreements together in the past.”

“I am aware, my lady. Unfortunately…” he shrugged. “I cannot say how long you may be waiting.”

Zevran took a cautious sip of his wine while waiting for Asleena to compose a reply. To his surprise it actually tasted good, which probably meant it wasn’t Ferelden. He wasn’t a connoisseur, but he had enough experience with the finer luxuries of life that he could recognise swill when it touched his tongue.

“I’ll be heading for Amaranthine tomorrow,” Asleena said finally. “I may be there for a few days, so if Her Majesty returns in that time a messenger can be sent there to fetch me. Otherwise, you can send to Highever.”

Uisdean wrote something down and nodded. “I will ensure she receives your words, my lady. Can I serve you in any other respect?”

“Are any Grey Wardens in the palace?”

“No, but there are still some of them in Denerim. They have a compound in the Market District, I believe?”

She nodded. “I know the way, thank you. Oh, and is there a stable in the city we can make use of?”

Fifteen minutes later they were outside again, the horses taken to some facilities on the palace grounds, and Asleena muttering about this portion of the trip being a waste of time.

“Maybe she will come looking for you,” Zevran suggested with a grin. “The Queen of Ferelden visiting at Highever!”

“Maker, no. I can see the faces of Alistair and Fergus now,” Asleena said, rolling her eyes. “She only tried to have one executed and the other…well. There would be all sorts of rumours started if Ferelden’s most powerful and eligible woman visited my brother. I’m sure he’d be thrilled.”

She turned to Xai. “You might as well see what you can sniff out now. Meet at the Grey Warden compound before dark. Remember the directions?”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Good.” Zevran found her green eyes upon him again. “You’re welcome to come along with me or find something to entertain yourself for the rest of the day. I doubt talking about darkspawn will interest you much.”

Zevran chuckled. “If you have no need of me, I may do some sneaking around of my own.”

“By which you mean you’re going to try to follow me,” Xai observed.

Zevran didn’t bother to deny it. “Let us see how good you are, hm?”

The master grinned and said, “In bocca al lupo, Zevran.”

“Crepi il lupo, Xai,” Zevran replied, his answering grin just this side of predatory.

Asleena sighed. “Now they’re talking Antivan. What was that? Threats? Chest-beating?”

“It loses something in translation to the King’s Tongue, Commander, but I was wishing Zevran luck,” Xai said. “Zevran’s response was customary to the idiom.”

She studied the two of them with a hard expression. As much as she’d told Zevran she didn’t believe Xai ever directly lied to her, he suspected she didn’t really believe the man always told her the full truth. Zevran certainly didn’t, despite Xai’s claims to the contrary.

The master’s good luck wish was indeed an Antivan idiom, translating roughly to ‘Into the wolf’s mouth’. Zevran’s response, customary just as Xai had said, came out as ‘May the wolf choke on me.’

“If either of you turn up dead by tomorrow and there’s no one else to blame,” Asleena said, “I’ll probably end up skinning the other. Understood?”

“Yes, Commander,” Xai said, respectfully, while Zevran only continued to grin.

“I can think of worse fates than being turned into Antivan leather, my dear. Be a good friend and ensure I am fashioned into something pretty, hm?”

“Why do I get the feeling I’m going to regret this?” she muttered. “Go, then. And for Andraste’s sake, be careful.”

Xai inclined his head and set off at once, heading for a small crowd of people beyond the outer walls of the palace, the typical gathering of those who wanted to see whoever was in charge but didn’t have an appointment or a legitimate grievance.

Asleena gave Zevran a final cautionary glance and he responded with a reassuring smile before setting off after his prey.

**

The first few streets were simple. The Palace District had straight avenues and walled estates, and Xai made no effort to conceal himself. Zevran followed at a distance, keeping an eye on his surroundings as well as the master. Once they reached one of the city’s major roads, however, Xai picked up the pace and darted straight across into the section of city bordering the lower docks, a collection of rundown houses, warehouses and filthy alleys.

Zevran followed swiftly, barely getting out of the path of a wagon on his dash across the road, and causing its driver to shake an angry fist and shout something uncomplimentary about elves. He hesitated upon reaching the narrow street beyond, though, gazing at the grey, puddle-infested and rubbish-littered cobbles

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d ventured into the poorer quarter of Denerim…in fact, last time he’d known Taliesen was out in force he’d come down here to follow the Wardens, but he hadn’t been required to run to track his quarry. Stealth was done best in a more careful fashion, and an armed elf travelling at speed in daylight through a rough part of town might not be wise. While he dearly wanted to pit his skills against a master assassin’s, as well as discover what he could about the Crows’ intentions, he didn’t want to run headlong into a situation by being incautious.

Zevran hadn’t lived this long by being completely reckless.

“Brasca,” he swore softly, watching Xai disappear between two buildings.

**

“Hey! Hey, you! Wait!”

Zevran glanced back, keeping a hand near his belt dagger in case this was some kind of distraction. Even though he’d returned to the city as a recognised companion of the Hero of Ferelden, wandering alone in Denerim could present all sorts of wonderful opportunities for those who still wanted him dead.

He’d just passed through the Alienage en route to the Market District, and the woman who’d called and was chasing after him was plainly dressed, not armed in any obvious way, and elven. She was pretty of face and brown of eye, her hair fiery red and cut short above the shoulder. Normally Zevran would have paused to admire more than a woman’s face and hair, but he realised he’d seen her before.

“You’re one of the ones who was with the Grey Wardens, aren’t you?” the woman demanded, slightly breathless after her run. “I remember seeing you in the Alienage before. You went against the slavers and fought during the siege.”

“Indeed I did,” Zevran agreed, examining her more closely. “Zevran Arainai at your service. And you, I believe, are that feisty minx who was shouting at the Tevinter slavers and defending the Alienage against darkspawn. Shianni, unless I am greatly mistaken.” He gave her one of his winning smiles. “I never forget a face, especially a beautiful one such as yours.”

“People say you were an assassin,” Shianni said, completely ignoring the compliment.

“I still am, my dear,” Zevran said, cocking his head slightly and raising a brow. “Were you looking to hire one, perchance?”

She hesitated, glancing around the street and the numerous bystanders, then nodded.

“Then perhaps we should retire to more suitable surrounds for discussing business.”

“I can’t afford to pay much,” she muttered quietly. “I was hoping, we both being elves, you’d do it out of a sense of kinship.”

Zevran chuckled and took a step back, shaking his head. “My dear, how would I make my way in the world if I did favours for every elf who asked, lovely though they may be?”

“During the Blight he kidnapped several women from the Alienage, who were raped by him and his…friends,” Shianni whispered fiercely, almost spitting.

“Excuse me?”

“The man I want you to kill. He’s a rapist. The human courts don’t care…it’s only a knife-ear’s word against that of nobles, and I’m the only one left who’s willing to speak. The other women are dead since the siege or carted off to Tevinter, like my cousin.”

Zevran stared off at a distant building so he wouldn’t be forced to look at the angry light in her eyes. Growing up in a ****house and then amongst assassins had familiarised him with a great number of unsavoury appetites possessed by the races of Thedas, and experience had taught him very early in life that it was usually wise to look the other way when something was happening he found distasteful. It wasn’t an assassin’s job to ask why a mark was wanted dead, though admittedly he’d liked to believe in the past that the people he’d killed had mostly deserved their fates.

Sticking one’s neck out only led to trouble, and charity was for heroes. He was an assassin, not a crusader for the weak.

Still…the world would not miss one abusive human. And it would not hurt to have a favour to call upon if he ever needed to lay low in Denerim. Yes. A place to stay in case of an emergency would be a fair price, and then no one could say he was working gratis out of anything foolish like pity or a sense of justice.

“Who is this man you want dead?” he asked, expecting it to be some minor lordling who would prove ridiculously easy to cut the throat of and whom nobody would even care had turned up dead, including his relatives.

“The Arl of Denerim,” Shianni said, still speaking as quietly as she could, though her voice was thick with hatred. “Arl Vaughan.”

Zevran cocked his head, recognising the name. “A human about this tall, yes? Reddish blond hair, dark eyes and a short beard? Unpleasant, slimy fellow?”

“You’ve met him?”

“Once, yes,” Zevran said thoughtfully. “He called a friend of mine a fat ****.”

This had been after Asleena decided to leave the human in the cell Rendon Howe had locked him in. Evidently Vaughan had been discovered before the siege, released, and had his father’s estates restored to him.

“So you’ll do it?” Shianni whispered hopefully, eyes wide and fixed on him.

Normally Zevran wouldn’t have cared who his mark was, but being the companion of a woman who was attempting to restore some stability to Ferelden came with certain requirements. While he doubted Asleena would shed any tears for a dead rapist, if the murder was linked to her then it could get politically ugly. Alistair’s name had already been attributed to the coup on the crown not even three weeks ago, what would happen if Asleena’s was then connected to the death of Denerim’s arl?

Someone was always watching, if not the Crows then another agent. Intelligence was an even larger game than assassination.

“This friend of mine,” Zevran said, “the Warden Commander, is a human noble herself with the ear of the queen. I suggest you come with me and speak with her. She has been doing marvellous things for the Alienage in Highever, and I assure you, my dear, that she will listen. She has a soft spot for justice.”

And she has a friend who has been abused, he added silently.

“She’s the same shem who also helped with the slavers and siege, right? And who rescued Soris?” Shianni nodded. “I remember her. Did she like that ring I gave her?”

“Actually…” Zevran grinned and removed a glove, displaying the luminous band of topaz, Dawn, that encircled one of his fingers. It’s amethyst sister, Dusk, was on his other hand, but Zevran was particularly fond of Dawn for its lustrous honey colour. “I hope this does not displease you?”

“Why would it?” Shianni asked, seeming quite pleased. “You helped as well. So where’s your Warden friend? Should I wait in the Alienage?” she added with a distrustful glance into the human-thronged district of stalls and shops.

“No, no, you will be safe with me, I assure you.” Zevran pulled the glove back on and extended a hand to gesture gallantly ahead. “Come.”

[Jules8445]

Excellent chapter as always! On vacation in the beautiful Colorado Rockies, but managed to find time to read! As always, can't wait for more!

[Phoenix Swordsinger]

Shadow! So glad to have you back. I just found this today. Wonderful as always.

[Shadow of Light Dragon]

Thanks guys

Part 4 - City Elves and Noble Humans

“You call that justice, shem?” Shianni stormed. “The queen feels obligated to restore that bastard Vaughan’s title because Howe deposed him under her father’s nose, but not hold him responsible for his own crimes?”

Zevran winced and was taken by a strong urge to step back from the two women, just in case Asleena responded in kind. One thing he had never witnessed, and he hoped he’d never be so unfortunate, was the Warden Commander in a towering rage. In his personal experience, aside from the occasional slip that usually involved a confrontation with someone she was close to, she had a tendency to retain calm and bite her tongue when angered.

In another corner of the barracks-style building, three human Wardens were grouped together. Two of the men were talking, but a third was observing the Commander.

“I don’t call it justice at all,” Asleena was saying, her voice and face sympathetic. “It’s unfair. The laws in Denerim afford common folk little protection, especially when they’re elves, and if Vaughan is Denerim’s arl then he not only controls the garrison but officiates over trials that aren’t capital offences.”

“Abduction and rape aren’t capital offences?” Shianni spat.

“I mean things like treason, Shianni,” Asleena said gently. “Offences against the crown.”

“So even something like murder is fine so long as the person who died isn’t important, or human.” Shianni raked a hand through her close-cropped red hair. “You can’t tell me there’s nothing that can be done to make that bastard pay, Warden.

“Come on,” she urged when Asleena looked like she was hesitating. “You went up against the most powerful man in Ferelden and you won. There has to be a way to put a stop to a little weasel like Vaughan!”

“Loghain managed to step on the toes of a lot of powerful people, including the Chantry, Shianni,” Zevran put in. “There was plenty of evidence, and even highborn victims to speak against him.”

“Whose side are you on?” Shianni snapped at him.

Zevran raised his hands in a gesture of peace. “Yours, my dear, but you must understand—“

“I understand plenty!” the elven woman cut across him angrily. “I understand that people like us are nothing. Had Vaughan killed someone’s mabari warhound it’d cause more of an uproar to humans than an elf suffering the same. If we so much as killed in simple self-defence an angry mob would be burning our houses down!”

Zevran said nothing, glancing instead to Asleena, and he was familiar enough with the woman to know she was frustrated. In Highever she could have done something via her brother, but Denerim was beyond the influence of the Cousland family. A moral injustice committed by the lord of any city was unlikely to be tried without someone at least equally powerful backing the victim.

“Were there any human witnesses?” Asleena asked finally.

“Besides Vaughan himself, two of his friends and his shem guards?” Shianni shrugged. “Mother Boann saw them take us from the Alienage, even tried to intercede, but I haven’t seen her since that day. She might have died in the war, I don’t know.”

“Vaughan practically admitted once, in my presence, that he had raped elven women,” Asleena began.

“And you didn’t just gut him where he stood for that?” Shianni flared.

“No, but as I doubt you’d think any reasons I gave would be good enough, I won’t explain them,” the Warden replied, and there was a warning in her voice that made the shorter woman back down some.

Asleena continued. “I have the power to mention this matter to the queen when she returns to the city. There is no guarantee it would concern her, but you have my word I would do what I can to make her listen.

“Alternately I can attempt to confront the arl himself. Given what little I know of the man, I doubt he will change his ways at my request when I left him locked in his own dungeon. It might make things worse for you.”

Shianni shook her head quickly. “Andraste’s Ass, don’t go to Vaughan about this.”

“Asleena,” Zevran interrupted. “A word, if I may?”

She followed him to a quiet corner. “Yes?”

“There is the option of dealing with this Vaughan through more pointed means,” the assassin said delicately.

She studied him for a long, silent moment, and her voice was quiet when she replied. “Some people simply need killing?”

“Do you disagree?”

They looked at Shianni standing alone in the centre of the room, and Zevran saw the young woman was also under the scrutiny of two of the male Wardens beyond. The elf’s arms were folded and she was defiantly ignoring the human men, as though their attention was beneath her notice and not crawling under her skin.

Zevran returned his gaze to Asleena, knowing that if he could convince her, if he got her permission, he would murder Vaughan without a second thought for consequences.

“If you came across a man forcing himself upon an unwilling victim,” the Antivan pressed in an undertone, “you would deal with him yourself, no? No matter the local laws?”

Her expression hardened and he knew instantly he had both scored and lost points for that observation.

“Why are you so interested in this case, Zev?” Asleena inquired, her voice just as soft but her green eyes piercing. “Why do you want to help her so much?”

Zevran blinked at her, the questions taking him by surprise, but not nearly so much as the answer that popped out of his own mouth.

“Because it…because it is it is what we do, yes? The murdering of villains and the helping of innocents?”

She studied him for a disconcerting moment longer and then, incredibly, grinned. “So it would seem,” she murmured, but then her face clouded again. “The problem with murdering villains in the shadows is that no one knows why, Zev. Nothing changes for the elves except who’s in control, and Vaughan’s successor might be worse than he is…it could be another Rendon Howe for all we know. I would rather change the situation, the laws, than merely who Denerim’s arl is.”

“This is not Highever, Asleena,” Zevran reminded her. “You yourself just said there is little you can do here.”

“Anora still owes me a boon. I could do a lot.”

Zevran hesitated. “Are you sure about using that, my friend? An open promise from the Queen of Ferelden is…not something to spend lightly.”

“That’s why I’m going to get as much out of it as I possibly can,” she said, and Zevran narrowed his eyes slightly at the offhandedness in her tone. That boon could be used to save anyone she loved. With suspicions cast on Alistair for his possible association in the coup, Asleena could use that boon to protect him if it became necessary, just as she had used her first one to spare him execution at the Landsmeet.

He suspected she was thinking exactly the same thing, and stamping down her reservations in favour of ‘the many’.

“Alistair—“ he began.

“—will be safe,” she interjected immediately, proving the assassin right.

Zevran cocked his head. “You don’t know that, my dear. Whoever borrowed his name did it for a reason, and that could be getting your fellow Grey Warden killed as much as crowned.”

“We’ll deal with that as it comes,” she told him. “Alistair currently has enough protection, and he can take care of himself. For now, I’m concerned with the Denerim Alienage. Plus,” she added with a small smile, “Anora may yet listen without me needing to play my trump.”

“It is your call, of course. Personally I prefer the idea of slitting the man’s throat, but”—Zevran grinned here—“public hangings have their charm, no?” He chuckled when she made a face. “Well, then, does this mean we are staying in Denerim until Her Majesty returns?”

“I can’t,” Asleena said. “There’s a recruit here from Vigil’s Keep who was sent to fetch me to Amaranthine at once. Another Warden was apparently sent to Highever as well in case I was still there.

“I want you to stay here in Denerim with Xai—“

“What?!” Zevran protested.

“—until Anora returns, at which point you can give her a letter I’ll draft tonight. After that you can rejoin me in Amaranthine, return to Highever or choose your own path.”

Zevran realised his mouth was hanging open and shut it, but he continued to stare at her as a horrible feeling settled in his heart. Was she trying to get rid of him all of a sudden? “You present me with…choices? Asleena…why do you think I would not choose to continue fighting at your side?”

“Because you might find something else to fight for.” She grinned reassuringly. “You never know.”

Zevran doubted it, but let it pass. “As you wish, but…Xai? Come now, Asleena…I cannot abide the man.”

Before Asleena could reply, Shianni interrupted with: “Um…hello? Elven girl standing all alone waiting to hear what’s going on?”

Giving Zevran a tight smile, Asleena led the way back to their guest and said, “Sorry about that. We’ve got good news.”

Shianni’s look was sceptical. “Yes?”

“For now, I guarantee the queen will do something about Vaughan.”

“But before you said—“

“The rules have changed,” Asleena interrupted cheerfully, and Zevran had to shake his head a bit. The woman always seemed to enjoy this so much, this simple matter of giving people good news. “Basically, the queen owes me a big favour, so if she won’t listen then I intend to collect.”

“Well…thanks,” Shianni said, “but if it’s all the same I’ll save the cheering until something actually happens. I mean, not that I’m not grateful for what you’ve done in the past—” she added hastily.

“I understand. In any case, until Anora returns to Denerim we’ll have to wait.” Asleena gestured to Zevran. “I’ll leave some letters with Zev to give to her when that happens, and if you wouldn’t mind going with him…”

“Me? See the queen?” Shianni’s shock gave way to disbelieving laughter. “Oh, Maker, that might not be a good idea. There are so many things I want to tell that woman, I know I’d just mess everything up.”

Asleena was grinning. “Trust me, you’ll want to be there.”

“You have something up that armoured sleeve of yours, my dear,” Zevran accused, eyeing his friend suspiciously. “And it is more than a shapely arm, I wager.”

The Warden Commander’s grin widened to an obvious smirk. “I wouldn’t want to spoil it. On that note, I have some writing to do and unfinished Grey Warden business to attend. Can you see Shianni back into the Alienage or wherever she wishes to go, Zev?”

“It would be my pleasure, if the lady requires such?” Zevran glanced at the elven woman, who nodded.

“That might not be a bad idea. Thank you.” Shianni made to starts towards the door, halted, then gave Asleena an awkward, apologetic smile. “And…ah…sorry for all the yelling before.”

Asleena smiled back and nodded, then raised a brow at Zevran as he levelled a finger at her.

“We will discuss this matter of Xai later,” he said.

“Later,” she agreed with a nod.

**

“Well,” Shianni said when they stopped outside a modest abode, “this is it.”

Zevran had been into a few alienages in his lifetime, but usually only while passing through on business. He found them rather depressing really…large filthy cages for the most part, slums in which elves had been made to believe they were safer than anywhere else they might go. Visiting one sometimes made him deem himself fortunate for having been raised in a ****house and then further up as a Crow, for his cage had been quite different. Better, he tended to think. He’d been an elf, but being a Crow superseded that. People looked past the pointed ears to the tattoos and blades, then positively cringed to avoid giving offence (at least in Antiva). He’d had to follow orders, even the ones he’d have preferred not to, he’d had to abide by rules, but few people outside the guild would never have dared to cross his path.

But…his concepts of family and friendship had been stilted in that life. After associating with the Cousland siblings and the companions who had remained in Highever, he knew that neither the House of Crows nor the brothel he’d been born in had been home as the word was meant to be used.

Wondering if he’d have been happier growing up in a communal gutter like this made alienages depressing for an entirely different reason.

He shrugged these thoughts off. He was who he was, there was no going back and little point to wondering what might have been. All he could do was make the most of what he had.

“You should come in and have a drink,” Shianni went on, pushing the simple wooden door open. “Least I could offer.”

“That is generous of you,” Zevran said, trying not to dwell on the quality of beverages a place like this could afford. “My presence seems to be drawing some attention from the locals, however.”

Shianni looked in the direction he nodded. Several elves standing in the late afternoon sunlight were watching them with open frowns. “Ignore them,” she said. “It’s me they’re scowling at. I’m a troublemaker,” she finished with a twisted grin. “Look at Shianni, bringing a tattooed and armed elf home! Whatever will the neighbours think?”

“Ah…” Zevran grinned and tried a careful probe of a question. “You have company often, then?”

The woman scoffed and went inside, holding the door for him. “No, I just stir up trouble often. Hitting noblemen across the head with bottles, yelling abuse at blood mages, talking people into picking up illegal weaponry to defend ourselves against darkspawn, and let’s not forget trying to raise a protest rally against Vaughan being recognised as our arl. Inviting an outsider for a friendly drink is just the next in a growing list of mistakes that’ll bring doom upon the Alienage.”

The Antivan chuckled as he followed her over the threshold, noting the complete lack of any intimate overtones in Shianni’s offer. He could respect that, but it was the first time he could ever remember a young woman inviting him into her home for nothing more than a drink. If it looked like this could develop into a night of intoxication and intercourse then certain boundaries would have to be established while she was still sober…namely which ones he would be unwelcome to cross.

“I have been labelled trouble myself, in truth,” he said, glancing around at his surrounds and almost unconsciously noting optimal hiding places and avenues of escape. “But, in my experience, a little trouble can be fun, no?”

“Your experiences must be better than mine,” Shianni replied. Crossing to a wooden table she crouched to drag out a crate from beneath and rummage through the contents—bottles from the sound of it.

Hearing the slight edge to the young woman’s voice, Zevran put a smile into his voice. “Oh? Then I shall endeavour to make this…’drinking with a tattooed and armed elf’ the enjoyable kind of trouble.”

“Good.” Shianni grinned at him as she emerged with two dark bottles, which she placed atop the table. Kicking one chair out and motioning to it, she sank into the other. “I should warn you that this stuff is rumoured to put hair even on elven chests. I know a guy who brews the stuff…completely illicit of course.”

Zevran claimed the other chair, sneaking a look into the crate while he did so and noting the number of empty bottles. “Do you live alone?” he asked. “You have family, yes?”

“Just my brother Soris. We both live here.” Shianni glanced around as she took a long pull from the bottle. “This used to be my Uncle Cyrion’s house, but after the Tevinter slavers took him and my cousin—his daughter—Ciela…” She shrugged a shoulder. “Are there slaves in Antiva?”

“Indeed there are. I was sold on the block when I was seven years old.” Zevran grinned at Shianni’s shocked expression. “The Crows bought me, and now here I am.”

“Weren’t they angry when you escaped?”

He laughed. “Oh yes. Yes. Angry enough to try and kill me at least three times, I think?”

“But how did you manage it?” she asked, leaning eagerly across the table.

“Well, now, that is quite a story.” Zevran grinned, picking his bottle up. “To be completely honest, I was not trying to escape at the time. I had become used to being a Crow you see…I even enjoyed some of the benefits it afforded me. But my last contract was…a dangerous one. I knew when I took it that there was little chance of success or survival.”

“You thought you’d die? Why do it then? Did you have no choice?”

Zevran paused, sighed inwardly as he considered the full truth, and managed an almost natural-sounding chuckle upon deciding against it. “You must understand that when I was a Crow I had a habit of bidding for risky marks. I built my reputation on taking down difficult targets…but my luck was not to last. Or it changed, depending on how you look at it.

“My final mission involved killing two Grey Wardens, the only two known to have survived the slaughter at Ostagar, and one of them was Asleena.” He made a small motion with his right hand. “As you may have guessed having spoken to her today, I failed.”

“But…you’re still alive,” Shianni said, looking confused. “You’re an elf and an assassin, she’s a human and you were trying to kill her. So why are you still alive?”

“No one was more surprised than me, I assure you. I survived the fight and they bound me while I was unconscious, then questioned me as to who had put the contract on their lives—Loghain and Howe, in case you didn’t know. Afterwards, I promised Asleena that if she spared my life I would serve her instead in whatever capacity she desired.”

Shianni immediately bristled. “What? So you’re her slave now?”

That got a more genuine laugh out of him. “At first I expected such might be the case. I swore myself to her, you see, and said I would do anything from polishing her armour to warming her bed, but alas...it was not to be.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Maybe I am!” He laughed again. “You saw her, yes? She is beautiful, she is strong, and she is…a good friend to me.” Zevran stopped suddenly and frowned at the bottle in his hands. He hadn’t taken one sip and here he was talking a little too freely. Maybe he’d been associating with people he trusted for too long. “But to answer your question,” he said, back-peddling, “I am not her slave and she never treated me like one. When the Crows came to take me back, we fought them together.”

Shianni mulled on this for a moment before reaching across with her bottle. “Thank the Maker for the few good ones out there.”

“Truly,” he agreed, clinking his drink against hers before lifting it to his lips. “Salute.”

He took a deep swig only to discover the alcohol was a good deal more robust than he’d been expecting, having watched the way Shianni was drinking it like cider. Liquor sprayed across the table in a great cloud, then Zevran was coughing uncontrollably.

“Maker’s Breath,” he croaked, wiping his mouth as Shianni roared with laughter. “This is horrible, woman. Did your friend brew it in a horse trough?”

“I did warn you!”

“I may have to keep the rest,” he apologised, sealing the bottle and still trying to get his voice back. “I know a certain dwarf who may offer to bear my children for a treat such as this.”

Shianni grinned. “You’re welcome to it. I hope she enjoys it!”

Zevran sniggered a bit and decided not to correct the pronoun.

**

An hour or so later, Shianni had her head laid down on her folded arms and was snoring gently.

Zevran leaned back in his chair and tried to figure out whether he should leave her as she was, which would result in an incredibly uncomfortable neck when she woke, or carry her to one of the two beds he’d noticed in the small house. He’d prefer the latter, but it risked awkwardness if she regained consciousness while he was assisting.

He was spared a decision when he heard a noise from the front door. One hand flew quickly to a blade in his belt, but the portal opened before he could make any other move.

The plainly-clothed elven man who entered had darker hair than Shianni and blue eyes instead of brown, and he went stone still when he noticed Zevran sitting at the table with his unconscious? dead? sister.

“What—“ Soris began, eyes widening as they went from Zevran’s face to the hilts peeking above either shoulder.

Zevran very carefully moved his hand away from his belt dagger. “Zevran Arainai,” the Antivan introduced himself smoothly. “We have met, Soris. I was merely keeping an eye upon your sister here.” He flicked a finger against his bottle of homebrew for emphasis.

“Well if you’re done watching her drink herself into a stupor,” Soris replied, his tone flat and unfriendly, “maybe you should leave. As in now. We don’t want any trouble here.”

“I see. Well, let it not be said that Zevran lingers where he is not wanted.” The assassin rose, taking care to look unthreatening as he crossed to the open door and stepped outside into the dusk.

“What set her off?” Soris asked from behind him.

“Excuse me?”

“What were you talking about? Your mothers? Vaughan? Slavers? Uncle Cyrion and Ciela?”

Zevran hesitated. He was fairly certain all of those had been mentioned with the exception of the first, but he said, “Vaughan. She has convinced the Warden Commander to speak with Queen Anora about him.”

“She has?” Soris looked surprised, glancing back at the figure slumped in her chair.

“Indeed, yes. I was asked to escort her home and she invited me in for a drink.”

“Don’t…judge her from this,” Soris muttered. “She was getting better until they made him arl. I’ve been trying to convince her go to Highever with me, things are meant to be better up there, but she just says that leaving means Vaughan wins.” He shook his head in disgust, looking bitter. “Like it’s a game.”

“I have every intention to see that it’s a game she wins,” Zevran said. “One way or another.”

Soris’ eyes flickered to the assassin’s blades again and narrowed. “I’ve heard stories about you.”

“Yes, they do seem to be circulating. They sound intriguing if you ask me.”

“They say you kill people, rob them and have…have sex with them.”

“In a different order usually, and sometimes completely disconnected with each other, but broadly true, yes,” Zevran replied, but he could tell this conversation was not going in a good direction.

“We don’t need any humans killed,” Soris said, lowering his voice. “So whatever you meant with that ‘one way or another’ remark, just forget it. Please.”

“You don’t want him dead?”

“Of course I do, but if an elf is blamed for it—which is exactly what will happen if no one admits they were the killer—then we’ll all suffer! It’s happened before and it’ll happen again.” Soris’ eyes slid away and Zevran followed his gaze to a small patrol of Denerim guards walking through the Alienage, heading in their direction but not seemingly aware of them yet.

“Just go,” Soris muttered. “I hope you have a way to explain your sword. We’re not allowed to own weapons, let alone bear them.”

As soon as the door closed, Zevran slid carefully into the shadows. The setting sun made the vhenadahl growing from the Alienage’s centre appear even larger than it was, oddly-coloured and strangely ominous. The human guards clanked past, heading south towards the bridge that spanned the Drakon River, and Zevran quickly headed the other way, eager to leave this strange, unhappy place.

[Jules8445]

"In a different order usually, and sometimes completely disconnected with each other, but broadly true, yes," Zevran replied."



This line...excellent. I mean, the whole chapter was excellent, but this in particular. As always, can't wait for the next!

[Phoenix Swordsinger]

4 chapters and already I'm hooked.

[frostajulie]

Dammit! What a treart to stumble upon in the zev thread I clicked on your signature, love the art from Aimo for the Hunt and this is definitely turning out to be a prize bit of fiction. Thank you for writing more because you are amazingly talented and so in character. I can;t wait for more!

[Shadow of Light Dragon]

Really sorry for the delay. >.< Real Life drainage and then too *much* inspiration so I was wanting to write in several different directions. My muse is torturing me. Thanks for waiting, reading, and of course replying. The good news is that chapter 6 is almost finished so it won't be long in following.

Part 5 - An Assassin's Life

Xai Merras was in the Grey Warden compound by the time Zevran returned, and he was the only one in the main room.

The former master had his swords drawn and had apparently been making use of the floor space to go through some forms before Zevran made his appearance, but he stopped when the elven assassin crossed the threshold, swords crossed and lowering.

The weapons were identical as far as Zevran could tell; Imperium renditions of the qunari saw sword, called an ‘Imperial Edge’ in Tevinter. They were curious-looking weapons, unwieldy in Zevran’s opinion, slender a quarter of the way from the hilt before flaring out into a curved, wider shape along one edge. The opposite side was serrated for almost the entire length, stopping short of the beak-like point. Even the grip was unusually shaped; bent back to echo the curvature of the blade.

Crows tended towards guild-issued weapons and armour for the most part, but, as there were those who earned wealth enough to buy their own custom equipment, splurging on exotic weapons or superior Antivan leather was not unheard of. For all the contracts Zevran had fulfilled, he had never managed to spend his gold on anything more lasting than boots. Most of his gold had gone towards fleeting pleasures, good food, fine wines and beautiful ****s the Guild would never be so generous as to provide. Things you experienced rather than owned.

“I do not understand why you are so secretive about your stances,” Zevran remarked when Xai gave him a strangely hesitant look. “As you have taken such pleasure reminding me in the past, we are on the same side, no?”

“And if you believe that,” Xai said, “you will make yourself scarce.” He made a small motion with his head towards a door on the other side of the room, behind himself, but his eyes never left Zevran’s. “The Commander has guests. Crows.”

Zevran gave a casual shrug. “Is this reason for concern? If they try anything—“

At that moment the door opened and three human men emerged. They moved to flank Xai, every sharp eye on Zevran, but his attention went straight to the senior assassin and it suddenly felt like the world was crystallising around him.

There was more grey in the master’s brown hair and beard, giving it the appearance of rust-streaked iron, more lines in his tattooed and tanned face, but the pale green eyes were the same. The smile was the same…

**

“You seem to have returned from your mission one less hand than you departed…”

“Rinna didn’t make it, master,” Taliesen said when Zevran utterly failed to respond. As the leader, as the one who had been granted the contract, it should have been the elf’s duty to reply. Indeed, Zevran should have been all but gloating about his success at killing such a difficult mark. Everyone knew the contract had been granted with the intent of knocking him down a peg or two, if not killing him.

It seemed to have knocked him flat.

“No matter,” the master said with a thin-lipped smile. “She can be replaced easily enough.” He stood before them, eyes shifting from human to elf and back again. “What went amiss?”

“Just a stupid mistake, ser,” Taliesen said with a shake of his head. He kept his gaze respectfully lowered. “The girl wasn’t experienced enough. She underestimated the guards and—“

The master’s fist, ringed with bronze as it emerged from his robe, swished towards Taliesen’s jaw. There was a crunch and a sharp grunt of commingled surprise and pain, then a second fist slammed into Taliesen’s gut and a knee met his face as he doubled up.

Zevran stood rigidly immobile as his companion hit the floor backwards, bleeding and barely succeeding at not making a noise through his agony.

The master pulled off the knuckleduster and massaged his hand with a thoughtful air. “I don’t appreciate deception,” he said in mild tones, “especially when it’s ineptly delivered, Taliesen. Lying is an art, you see, and it pains me to see it done so poorly.

“The Crows know you killed Rinna. We know the why, we know the where. We even know about your fond farewell.” This he said while standing directly before Zevran. “Lift your face, assassin. I wish to see it as I speak. Poets say that eyes are the windows to the soul.”

Golden-brown eyes, carefully empty of emotion, met those the shade of new spring grass.

“We know, Zevran,” he said, “and we don’t care. Rinna served her purpose; you will keep serving yours until your time comes. It’s as simple as that.”

And there they were. The words that brought his fanciful beliefs that skill and prowess were a measure of his worth as an assassin down around his ears. He had thought for so long that his many successes made him more valuable to the House of Crows, that being the best meant something…but it was not so. He was nothing. He could be replaced, just as she would be, and the Crows would shed as many tears over his corpse as he had for Rinna’s.

None.

“Congratulations, by the way, on the success of your mission,” the master added, staring unblinkingly into Zevran’s eyes and smiling as though he could see a light there, somewhere in the golden depths, flicker and die.

**

“Master Dario,” Xai said in a smoothly unconcerned voice, “you do, of course, remember Zevran Arainai?”

“Mm. Yes. The walking corpse himself.” Green eyes studied the elf briefly, then dismissed him. “Fascinating, Merras, but if you’ve seen one dead elf you’ve seen them all. He’s not my problem unless the House says otherwise.”

Zevran’s interruption was as quiet as the sound of his blades sliding into his hands. “What if I make myself your problem?”

“Ah.” A flash of teeth showed in Dario’s beard. “Then, naturally, I will see you split up the middle.”

“You planted the lies that led to Rinna’s death,” Zevran accused. “You meant for Taliesen and I to kill her.”

Dario stared at him for a second before laughing. “****son, you imagine an importance in your dear dead paramour that simply never existed! Why in the world would I set up a nobody if I wasn’t getting paid?”

“For twisted amusement, no doubt,” Zevran countered, but his eyes flicked to Xai as he spoke. “I was informed…she was a test.”

“Informed? Enlighten me, please. I do so love a good lie.”

“Killing Rinna was to have hardened my character…or broken it.” Zevran was oblivious to Master Dario’s grin now, staring fixedly at Xai who was looking straight back at him without expression. Uncertainty gnawed…he had been so quick to believe the man’s words when he’d spoken them in Markham City. They had fit. They had given him an excuse to believe he wasn’t fully responsible. They had given him someone to blame.

“Zevran…” Dario’s voice could have come from another world, “someone has been slipping you gilt disguised as gold, and with great success. This seems to have become a distressing habit of yours, just believing what you’re fed without looking into the matter. That might get someone killed one day, wouldn’t you agree, Xai?”

The room fell silent. It wasn’t lost on any of the assassins that Zevran and Xai alone had their weapons unsheathed and were watching each other like wolves with bared fangs.

Master Dario approached Zevran with his hands held out from his sides, away from his weapons, then patted him on the shoulder a couple of times. “Just so you know,” he said in a confidential undertone, “my coin’s on you.”

The Crows departed.

“I cannot say I’m surprised,” Zevran said, finding his voice at last. His fingers twitched around the hilts of his weapons. “Well, surprised at myself, perhaps. But do tell me why. What purpose?”

Xai’s brows lifted. There was a subtle hiss of silverite as his blades scraped against each other. “Twisted amusement?”

“At least you are not denying it.”

There was a creak of floorboards then and a clink of armour. Asleena emerged from the doorway behind Xai—he had to turn and expose his back to Zevran in order to see her, and she leaned against the frame with her arms folded. “The truth, please,” she said softly to the former master.

“My intent was to remove Zevran from your side, Commander,” Xai replied promptly, without a hint of apology in his voice. “I believed the Crows would follow his trail or lie in ambush at Starkhaven, which might have endangered you if you travelled together. Tricking him to leave for Antiva would have removed the threat.”

“What if I had gone with him to Antiva?” Asleena asked.

“I felt such an option unlikely while you were pursuing Alistair. Furthermore, you had spared me in Markham after I’d manipulating Taelin’s death, so why go with Zevran to kill someone else for a similar crime?”

Zevran met Asleena’s eyes when she didn’t reply. “And you wish him to remain with me in Denerim?” he asked pointedly.

“With respect,” Xai said, “I have not attempted anything which might lead to Zevran’s physical harm since you ordered me not to, Commander. My deception was made many months ago, in another country.”

“Yet never corrected until now,” Zevran noted.

“You would have had no reason to believe me if I told you I’d been lying, Zevran,” the other man said with a shrug. “Anyway, I did not think it would matter to stay silent. You never showed any intention of leaving Highever in pursuit of vengeance.”

Asleena sighed and rubbed her eyes with a thumb and forefinger, muttering something Zevran didn’t catch. “Xai,” she said, “get something to eat from the larder and find a spare bed; I’ll talk to you in the morning. Zev, come with me, please.”

Xai bowed and left without further comment, leaving Zevran to accompany Asleena down the wooden passage to an office-like room. There was a rather simple wooden desk and chair, a shelf of books and a few paintings, but the overall effect was severe. The Grey Wardens clearly hadn’t had luxury in mind when they’d furnished the place.

Zevran found himself wondering how uncomfortable the beds would turn out to be.

“Are you all right?” was the first thing Asleena asked, turning to face him.

“I…yes. Thank you.” Zevran managed a smile. “Seeing Master Dario was simply unexpected. I did not realise how much I still wanted to kill him until just now.”

She nodded. “Rinna?”

Zevran shrugged, uncomfortable. He had stopped berating himself so much for those events a long time ago now, no small part thanks to Asleena. The past was done and, while he might never forget, it would not dictate the man he was or stop him from living his life.

But sometimes… it still hurt to be reminded. The wound still twinged if prodded.

“Can you blame me for desiring to spill blood, my friend?”

“No. Of course not. Maker, if Howe was still alive…” She sat on the edge of the desk. It creaked under the weight of her armour and she stood up again with a distracted and faintly worried look that had nothing to do with concern for the furniture.

The assassin cocked his head at her. “Are you worried about going to Amaranthine, my dear?” he asked shrewdly. “You have yet to speak to the late arl’s children about his death, am I correct?”

“Got it in one guess, Zev,” she muttered. “Thomas and Delilah. If you wanted to cut up Dario, what will Rendon Howe’s children feel towards me?”

“I wish you would let me go with you,” Zevran said. “Xai and the other Wardens can see your letters to Anora. I need not stay here.”

“Shianni came to you first, Zev, not me,” Asleena reminded him.

He snorted inelegantly. “She wished to hire me as an assassin, not a courier.”

Her lips quirked into a smile. “You were the one who turned down her contract, weren’t you?” Then she laughed at the disgusted look he gave her. “Sorry, Zev, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to imply you should have done as she asked. I’m glad you came to me. But I’m serious about her going to you. It would be appropriate for you to see it through as far as possible, don’t you think?”

“What if the Crows stir up trouble?”

“Master Dario assured me that he had no interest in killing you, me, Alistair or Xai, but he wouldn’t say if anyone else was currently after our blood.” She spread her hands. “If you can believe him. He wasn’t the one who took the Grey Warden contract though, was he?”

Zevran shook his head. “No, but that does not mean he couldn’t be persuaded to assist in the matter.”

“Well, I gave him something to think about that might convince him not to,” Asleena said, smiling again. “I offered to pay him for any evidence he can dig up on the coup, whether that be written material or conspirators.”

“You offered to pay him?” Zevran repeated. “They did not demand payment up front?”

“Dario said the price will all depend on what he finds.”

“I cannot say I like the sound of that, my dear.”

“I made it clear he could ask for gold, jewels, relics I still have lying around, but not services and definitely not lives. Besides, I can always say no if I don’t like what I hear…or hand it to Anora. She’s richer than me.”

Zevran said nothing for a moment, then nodded to her. “I will see if I can find any leads myself while I am here. I might as well do something useful, no?”

“Please stop looking so grim, Zev. Just because we’re parting company for a little while doesn’t mean I’ll go falling into a broodmother nest at the earliest opportunity, or get ambushed by assassins. I’ll be in a keep full of Grey Wardens and well protected.”

“Do not say ‘what could go wrong?’” Zevran advised drily, turning for the door. “Something always goes wrong when someone says that.”

**

Zevran and Xai accompanied Asleena and the Warden recruit from Amaranthine to the palace the next morning. Zevran didn’t catch the young woman’s name, but took his customary time to appraise her while she spoke freely with Xai about her soldiering days and how she looked forward to her Joining. She was of a height with the Warden Commander, human, armed with a sword and shield and garbed in red steel plate. Blue eyes, short black hair and a pretty nose completed the picture.

He didn’t bother to listen to what they were saying, half of his attention on the rooftops and alleys while the rest of him was lost in contemplation. Being in Denerim for a while wouldn’t be so bad, he thought, but leaving Asleena to ride off with some unknown Ferelden soldier…

Listen to me. Zevran Arainai, the great Antivan nursemaid. The first thing I must do when she rides from Denerim is visit The Pearl to enjoy myself for a while. No darkspawn, no Wardens.

“And you, ser?” the recruit said suddenly to Zevran, bringing him back to the present while Xai looked on. “I have heard tales of you fighting at the sides of the Wardens during the Blight. How is it that you never formally joined their ranks?”

“Oh, I have been around them long enough to know their life is not mine,” Zevran replied easily.

Her brow furrowed. “But you’re still with them now. How would life be any different as a Warden?”

Zevran responded with a chuckle. “Perhaps you will understand after your Joining, my dear, and then we can discuss the matter further.”

“I’ll look forward to it, ser.” She returned to her discussion with Xai, and Zevran slanted a look at Asleena, who was walking beside him.

“What do you think?” he asked quietly.

Asleena shook her head. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “There’s supposed to be some sense on who has a good chance of surviving the Joining, but I haven’t seen enough of them to get a feel for it. I don’t know if she’ll live. I don’t know if you’d live.”

“Another reason not to sign up, hm?”

“Would it be so terrible, being a Warden?”

“My prospects for old age are slim enough being a renegade Crow,” Zevran pointed out with a grin. “Best not to stack the odds too heavily against myself. I like living, and intend to keep doing so for as long as I can. Besides, I am doing just fine as I am, no?”

She grinned. “There is that.”

Grooms brought out Asleena’s charger and a serviceable mount for the recruit, who mounted without too much difficulty. Before following suit, the Commander turned to her companions and brought out a scroll case bearing the Cousland family insignia.

“This is for the queen,” she instructed, handing it to Zevran. “Deliver it personally. Court intrigue as it is, don’t let anyone else touch it.”

Zevran took it, bowed low and smirked. “If I need to slip into the royal bedchamber itself to achieve this task, so it shall be.”

“Zevran, I’d think twice about trying to seduce Anora.”

“As would I, my dear. Three times, even.”

She shook her head and turned her attention to Xai. “Remember what we discussed,” was all she said, and the former master inclined his head.

“Yes, Commander. I’ll be seeing you in Amaranthine.”

“Watch your backs, and please look out for each other. The other Wardens here may be able to help if something bad happens.” Asleena looked at Zevran again, for slightly too long considering she didn’t say anything further, he thought, then she gave him a little nod and quickly turned to her stallion.

Zevran too remained silent. He wanted to give some sort of farewell to her, but any words he conjured in his mind felt too private to say aloud in company no matter how simple the sentiment. As comfortable as he’d become expressing certain things to people he trusted, he was still rarely open with emotions he would have once called soft, weak or wrong.

But she knew that…

Then Asleena Cousland, Commander of the Grey, was riding out the gates of the palace with her Warden recruit in tow.

And, as Zevran watched without words, she was gone.

**

Almost precisely one hour later, Queen Anora and her entourage were seen coming back into Denerim.

[Jules8445]

Excellent chapter. I can't wait to see what kind of trouble our little Crow Mice get into while the big bad Asleena kitty is away.

[Phoenix Swordsinger]

Ah, Zevran!

[Shadow of Light Dragon]

Part 6 - The Boon

Zevran, Xai and Shianni stood in a well-appointed chamber that connected to the throne room, watching as Anora read over the parchments. The Queen of Ferelden didn’t look any different to when Zevran had last seen her; she still wore her blonde hair braided and pinned to the back of her head, and for all that she’d been out of the city for the past several days there was not a single strand out of place and her clothes were fresh and clean. Her maids must have pounced upon her as soon as she entered the palace. She looked every inch regal, confident, and unflappable.

Yet she paced as she perused the Warden Commander’s missive, and there was a small frown wrinkling her brow. When she shuffled one page aside to read the next, she glanced at the three guests in a measuring fashion.

Lord Uisdean was in attendance, along with Ser Cauthrien and a number of guards. All were silent as their queen read, and the only sounds came from the adjoining corridor as the rest of the palace went on with day-to-day affairs.

“Do you know what this says?” Anora asked Xai at last, her blue eyes settling on him. It was no wonder that she chose to address her words to the human, Zevran thought with an inner shrug. Xai was also a Grey Warden, and he hadn’t been hired by her father to kill the Hero of Ferelden.

“Your Majesty,” came the respectful reply. “She mentioned writing of the coup to me, and some affair concerning the alienage, but otherwise no.”

Anora took one of the papers and folded it, smoothing the single long crease with a compression of her thumb and forefinger, then tore it cleanly down the centre. “Well,” she said, “your Commander may be surprising more than myself this day, Warden.”

Zevran barely managed to keep his brows from arching, while Shianni fidgeted at his side. Anora sounded less than pleased, her voice clipped and cold. He began to wonder exactly how diplomatically Asleena had phrased her boon request.

“She wishes the lot of the elves improved,” the queen went on, examining Zevran and Shianni now, as though expecting this was all their fault by dint of their presence and species. “And there are certain allegations against the Arl of Denerim she wants addressed.” She focussed directly on Shianni at the last, her expression neither cold nor sympathetic.

Despite common sentiment that Anora was held in high regard and an able ruler, she was not beloved by her people. She was respected, even admired in some quarters, her beauty had brought suitors from far and wide, but she didn’t inspire affection. The queen was, Zevran thought, intelligent, ambitious, practical and ruthless when it suited her purposes, but good at concealing her emotions behind a public mask.

He had seen that façade slip only once: the day of her coronation when Asleena had been honoured for her part in ending the Blight. After the public speeches and offering of the boon (which Asleena, of course, had elected not to use at that point), Zevran had watched the Warden approach the newly crowned queen at one corner of the dais where the two women had spoken. He hadn’t been close enough to hear above the hubbub of noise in the throne room, but from the emotion threatening to shatter Anora’s composure and the expression on Asleena’s face afterwards as she’d gone to embrace her brother, he strongly suspected they had spoken of Loghain’s final moments.

Anora was not made of ice as many believed, but she allowed almost everyone to see her as such.

Some training with weapons and poisons, Zevran mused, some pain endurance trials on the rack, and she might have made a good Crow…

“For what it is worth,” the queen said to Shianni, “I am sorry for what you and your people have suffered.”

“That makes it all better,” the red-head muttered, not quite softly enough to be unheard, but while Cauthrien glared Anora was too skilled a politician to indicate the words had even reached her ears.

“Asleena Cousland has presented me with two options,” the queen said, brandishing the parchments, “one of which makes use of a favour I promised her, and I must say she has outdone herself in the breadth of her request. But to the point: I am inclined to have a talk with the Arl of Denerim to hear his defence. I can censure him, he will not be punished, but I will have him watched. Any attempt to repeat these crimes you accuse him of will carry lethal consequences—of this you have the word of Ferelden’s queen.”

“Censure?” Shianni echoed blankly, shooting a glance at Zevran.

“It means Vaughan will be told what a very naughty boy he is in public,” Zevran said with a sardonic grin.

“So a slap on the wrist and he still remains master of Denerim,” Shianni translated.

Cauthrien’s scowl deepened. “You should show more gratitude, knife-ears.”

“Peace,” Anora said, holding up a hand towards the knight as Shianni drew herself up angrily. “Being held against one’s will by a loathsome snake who takes pleasure in brutality is something I can sympathise with, Cauthrien.”

“Somehow,” Zevran put in while Shianni’s face went from offended to quizzical, “I don’t think Vaughan’s tastes are as eccentric as Howe’s.” He paused, then added, “Yet.”

“Noted,” the queen replied. “Leave Vaughan to me for now. There is still the matter of Asleena’s boon, and she has left it to the three of you to decide if it will be spent.” She unrolled the parchment before herself, ignoring the shared glances her remark provoked. “In brief, it involves adopting the laws the Teyrnir of Highever has been using in its alienage to give elves legal rights. This will necessitate sending agents to the Tevinter Imperium to buy back or otherwise liberate those who were illegally sold into slavery during the Blight.”

Shianni’s gasp was clearly audible at that, and Anora calmly lowered Asleena’s letters.

“For the latter task of travelling to the Imperium and bringing our elven citizens home, you three have been nominated as the ideal candidates.”

Zevran stared in poorly-concealed disbelief, oblivious to the reactions of his companions. “Forgive me, your Majesty, but has the Warden Commander given reasons for her…generous recommendation?”

Anora’s elegant blonde brows lifted a fraction. “That she has, ser.” She glanced at one of the parchments. “Shianni has been mentioned for her dedication to her people, and of course hers would be a face her kin recognise and trust. Xai Merras is Tevinter-born—“ both she and Zevran glanced at the Grey Warden, who inclined his head in the affirmative, “—he is fluent in the native tongue of Arcanum, and he has been to the capital of Minrathous, your destination, when he served as an Antivan Crow.

“As for yourself, Master Arainai,” the queen went on briskly, “Asleena need not have recited your credentials or suitability to me. Not only was I present when you, she, Alistair and Leliana liberated me from Howe’s hospitality, but after the Wardens surrendered to Ser Cauthrien and were imprisoned in Fort Drakon—” the knight shifted in her armour, her uneasy expression bringing a tiny smirk to Zevran’s lips, “—I saw you leave Arl Eamon’s estate with no other company but a mabari warhound and saw you return with them in your company. I would say you have infiltration and rescue down pat, wouldn’t you?”

Except for Xai and Anora, everyone else in the room was suddenly staring at him—especially Shianni, whose eyes were wide. Apparently those stories hadn’t been nosed around as much as the stabbing, stealing and sex…probably because they involved elves getting the one-up on over-authoritative humans and sounded like…

…well, sounded like elves could be heroes.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “This…nomination to sail to the Tevinter Imperium is not mandatory, your majesty?”

Shianni made a sound like she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. “But you have to come!” she insisted before Anora could reply. “All this…none of it would be happening if not for you! Andraste’s Ass, on top of all that other stuff you fought the archdemon with the Grey Wardens! Please, Zevran,” she begged, both hands lifting to her lips like one who prayed to the Maker. “Please come.”

He gazed at her now, feeling oddly unsure of himself in the face of being looked upon as though he was being looked up to. A casual ‘No, but good luck,’ and he could bid farewell to this charity voyage and be riding towards Amaranthine before the hour was out. He might even get rid of Xai while he was at it.

Remembering the former master’s presence had him slanting a look to the thus-far silent Warden. To his curiosity, there was an unaccustomed intensity in Xai’s expression. His Tevinter heritage was a revelation to Zevran, but it didn’t necessarily mean anything—Zevran had a Dalish tie after all, but felt no attachment to the Wandering Clans. Nevertheless, it looked like something was there…and he wondered what it was.

Anora said, “To answer your previous question, it is not required if you do not desire to go.” She took the two pieces of the parchment she had torn earlier and offered either half to the assassins. “However, Asleena did leave each of you some final words to help you decide your path.”

Both men glanced at the other’s note, locked eyes for a drawn-out second, then backed away to read their respective letters.

What have you gotten me into this time, woman? Zevran thought darkly before lowering his gaze to the torn page. It was folded in his grip, hiding the inked script. Why suggest I leave?

It felt like a long time before he could bring himself to open it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it said, because he had a feeling it would convince him to go. He did not want to go. He liked it here, wherever she was, where he felt accepted, valued and happier than anywhere he’d known. He could leave, he didn’t doubt it, he was free to do as he pleased or travel as he liked, but simply had no wish to.

Bracing himself with a deep breath, he started to read.

“Zevran,

“I hope you will give serious thought to this trip. In the Green Dales we talked once about worthy deeds. Do you remember?”

He did…very well. He was an assassin, and were it not for Asleena and his tenure at Highever he assumed he would have continued to make his living doing what he did best: paid murder. He had told Asleena…that being in her company gave him reason to strive for worthy goals.

And she believed he was capable of such. Of worthy things. Her faith reflected in him in a way he could not put to words.

She inspired him.

“I know you don’t think you can do it on your own, but I believe otherwise. And rescuing people from a prison tower should be no problem for you, right?”

He snorted quietly under his breath, but felt a small and somewhat anticipatory smile curve his lips. The Circle Tower of Minrathous with all its mages might be a bit more challenging than Fort Drakon…and why did that only make the whole idea sound more dangerously appealing?

“I feel you should go. What will you see with me but more darkspawn and Grey Wardens? If that’s what you want, though, I will of course happily welcome your company when I see you again. But I want you to fly at least this once…just so you know you’re able and can feel what it’s like.

“Touch the sky, Zev.

“Ever your friend,
“~Asleena~”

Zevran’s brow furrowed at the closing words. He folded the letter quickly and tucked it into his armour, glancing at Xai to see the other man doing much the same thing.

“Well?” Shianni asked breathlessly.

He looked up at the vaulted ceiling, thought to himself a moment, then said, “You know, I have always wanted to travel. Until coming to Ferelden I had never set foot outside Antiva—unless you count the Nevarran embassy and the island of Llomerryn, a place so full of disrepute it is Antivan by it’s very nature, a home away from home so to speak, but I digress.”

Summoning a smile for Shianni’s benefit, he swept a courtly bow. “It will be as you say, my dear lady. To Tevinter.”

“And you, Master Merras?” Anora asked the other man. “Will you be joining them?”

“I wouldn’t miss it, your Majesty,” Xai replied with a serene smile, and Zevran’s eyes flicked unconsciously to the spot he’d seen Asleena’s letter tucked away…

Shianni coughed and said, “I…er…technically need a permit to leave Denerim, your Majesty.”

“Lord Uisdean will see to that,” the queen answered without missing a beat, “and a ship will be fitted to leave on the morning tide. Papers were acquired during the Blight that give us some rough estimates of how many elves were taken and how much gold the Tevinters paid to be allowed to ply their trade here. With that information, we may be able to make a rough estimate of what it will cost to purchase the elves back from the Minrathous Circle.”

However many left who are alive, at least, Zevran thought to himself. He didn’t know how well the Tevinters would have treated their newly-acquired chattel, but some were bound to have died on the long ocean voyage and still more could have perished in slavery.

Anora folded Asleena’s missive up and nodded to them. “Now if you will excuse me, I have an arl to speak with and preparations to make for a trip of my own. I suggest you do what you must before tomorrow comes.”

The three bowed to her, Shianni with the awkwardness of one not used to genuflecting, then were ushered out of the palace by a pair of palace guards. As soon as they were outside Shianni sucked in a great lungful of air and stared at the blue sky above, her eyes gleaming.

“I don’t believe it,” she said to world at large. “The Imperium! The Tevinter sodding Imperium! We could rescue…we could rescue my uncle, my cousin…all of them!” She laughed suddenly, turning to include both Zevran and Xai in her broad smile, and Zevran didn’t have the heart to warn her against being too optimistic. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you for agreeing to come.”

She virtually bounced down the palace steps, leaving the two assassins to share a long look carefully devoid of expression.

“Tevinter, hm?” Zevran said.

“By blood only, Zevran,” Xai answered, his mask shifting as he smiled in a slightly odd fashion. “All Crows are Antivan, as you well know.”

“Of course,” the elf murmured. “So why do you have such an interest in returning, I wonder?”

“And you, Zevran, are going out of the goodness of your heart?” The former master gave a faint sneer before glancing off in the direction Shianni had taken to the grounds. “Or is this merely another pair of legs to sniff after? Another conquest you have in those cold sights of yours?”

Zevran didn’t give a damn what the man said when no one else was around to hear, so he only chuckled. “Do I detect a note of jealousy there, my good friend Xai?”

But the human ignored him. Still staring after Shianni, his eyes suddenly narrowed and he said, “Who is that?”

Zevran looked, then without a word in reply started to run.

Shianni was rooted to the spot in the middle of the wide road, frozen stock-still halfway between the palace proper and the gates that circled the grounds.

Approaching her position from the gates was a complement of guards bearing the green and white heraldry of Denerim, their polished armour shining in the sunlight.

At their head strode Arl Vaughan.

[LadyKarrakaz]

I had already read The hunt (and didn't post as rewiews, although some scenes really screamed for reviews, like Zevran "assaulting" Asleena when captured by the crows, or the Zevran/Alistair legendary confrontation), and it's with a great pleasure that I read your first chapters of the Kill. You have a really nice way of respecting the original characters and creating new ones Xai for instance is a jewel of intelligence, I really adore hating him! A true master of the game. What can I say about your Zevran except that I love him, I think you're doing a great job deepening his character. He is cold, calculating, cautious, and in the same time, just fragile and so human. Do I sense a romance coming with Shianni (Xai surely will use her against him, after all, he has promised not to physically hurt Zevran, but hurting someone Zevran loves...). Another theory is, your make the 2 of them learn to trust, at least a little, each other... hum...

I laughed to the reference Asleena made of not falling again in broodmother's nest... knowing what happens in the Awakening storyline...

Great story and great writing style. I love the fact that you respect the original universe and follow a logical storyline, it really makes me believe in your story. Thanks for sharing it!

[Jules8445]

Yet another great chapter! I can't wait to see what develops between these three on their trip. Are we going to get to see any bits and pieces from Asleena and Alistair in later chapters?

[maradeux]

Dear Shadow of Light Dragon,

(how will I ever overcome my fear of writing in English? But I'll try...)
I've read your story "The Hunt" with great pleasure. Your fantasy had created brilliant places, characters and events. And you have a great talent to put them into words. Only the end made me sad: There is a man who is by Asleena's side all the time, stands by her, fights for her, loves her, does everything for her. And what does she do? Decides for the idiot who dumped her, run away, shouted at her, hurt her and only returns to her, because Zevran convinced him to do so. How stupid can a woman be? *headdesk* And the same for Zevran: He could have nearly every woman (or other man) in entire Thedas. But he falls in love with a foolish woman, who follows a sulky pighead around half the world. *headdesk again*

I found it interesting to read that you also wrestled with this end and I am very glad that you finally decided to write this sequel exclusively for Zevran. And as this story again has begun very interesting, I am curious to learn how it will go on.

(purple lady) Do I sense a romance coming with Shianni

Oh no! Please not! Shianni might be sweet, but she is ridiculous compared to Asleena. That would be terrible! (I hope for the cousin ) But however - I would read it anyway. :innocent:

[Shadow of Light Dragon]

(Next chapter half written, but not ready yet! Like giving birth to a baby elephant...)



@Purple Lady - Thank you very much! Quite a few people got the love-to-hate vibe with Xai, and I thought it might be an interesting dynamic to saddle Zev with a guy he doesn't get along with, trust or like AT ALL. As for Shianni...I'm not telling! And yes to the Awakening thing...glad you got that, hehe.



@Jules - Thankee If the story ends up where I'm expecting it to, you will indeed hear something of Asleena and Alistair eventually.



@maradeux - Thanks! *laugh* I know, a few people have said that about Asleena's choice. It kinda makes me want to do a story that's actually of the Blight so people can see the relationship Asleena had with Alistair - a relationship that spanned months and months before the Landsmeet took place. You only get a very small idea of what they had in The Hunt, but that was intentional as I didn't want to drown Zev's voice. Maybe she's stupid anyway...but love often is.



You'll see who Zev ends up with eventually... *grin*

[maradeux]

Maybe she's stupid anyway...but love often is.

Sad but true *sigh*

(I hope the birth is not going to become too painful )

[Shadow of Light Dragon]

Part 7 - Confrontations

How did he get here so quickly? Did someone tell him what was happening?

Unlike his soldiers, Vaughan was dressed in a fine weave of amber-and-gold silk with dark red embroidery around the collar and down the front. He was, however, armed; a serviceable sword and dagger hung from his belt, proper weapons from what Zevran could see and not the fancy toys nobles sometimes wore in the same fashion that society ladies accessorised jewellery with gowns. Zevran knew very little about Vaughan and until now had only laid eyes upon the man once, in the dungeons beneath the Denerim estate. That sole meeting and what he’d heard from Soris and Shianni had been enough for him to form certain opinions, but none of those told him how dangerous the man might be in a fight.

Zevran managed to reach Shianni before Vaughan and his entourage, but just as he was about to grab her arm to get her attention or pull her off the road he froze, realising in a flash he had no idea what the contact would do to her in her present state. Her eyes were huge in her pale face and her breath was coming in short, shallow gasps.

“Shianni,” he hissed, lowering his hand, but he got no response…and then a deeper voice, laced with arrogance and malice, spoke from behind him.

“Well, well…what do we have here?”

As first words went, Zevran thought, they weren’t very original. The assassin turned, moving just so in order to put his body firmly and obviously between Vaughan and Shianni, then granted the nobleman a raised brow and pleasant smile.

Vaughan was not especially tall as humans went, but he was the sort of person who liked to stand offensively close when talking down to someone. It forced a shorter person, such as an elf, to cant his head back in order to meet the man’s eyes, and gave the illusion of being loomed over.

In Zevran’s opinion, Vaughan’s choice of proximity just brought certain pieces of male anatomy that much closer to the tools of his trade, most of which could be used to ensure Vaughan would be singing several octaves higher for the rest of his life.

“Oh yes, I remember you,” Vaughan purred, looking at Shianni over Zevran’s shoulder. “The knife-eared **** with the bottle. Well!” He chuckled when the girl said nothing, “your temper seems to have sweetened since you were broken in. And what’s this?” He smirked down at Zevran, no spark of recognition glinting in his eyes. “Do you know what the law says about elves carrying weaponry?”

“Wait, I know this one! I have seen the posters in the Alienage, what did they say…” Zevran made a show of thinking.

“Elves who carry swords will die upon them,” Vaughan supplied in a satisfied sort of way. “Now be a good knife-ears and hand them over.”

“Where would you like them…ser?”

Vaughan threw his head back and laughed. “That’s funny. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that was a threat. All your sort know what to use blades for is cutting vegetables, so give up this…act of competency. Give me your weapons and stand aside so I can get reacquainted with my little pet there.”

Zevran heard Shianni’s breath hitch on a soft sob of fear and was tempted, then and there, to force-feed Vaughan his own manhood. The Antivan was no priest of the Maker by any stretch, but he detested the practise of rape. Anything that made a man or woman feel afraid of sex, what should be the most pleasurable experience anyone alive could have in his opinion, was offensive to him.

Crows were not supposed to get involved with such things. They had rules, very strict rules, and letting certain things happen—muggings, rapes, murders and so forth, was generally good for business.

It meant more contracts from people thirsting for revenge.

But Zevran wasn’t a Crow anymore…and Shianni had already asked him for revenge.

“Why don’t you try me on for size?” he invited the arl, standing his ground. “Or I can try you on for size. Whatever tickles your fancy.”

“Oh, I think I know what I fancy,” Vaughan replied. “I was going to pay a personal visit to our beautiful queen…but she can wait.” He began to reach past Zevran’s head with one hand, intent on fingering Shianni’s hair, and Zevran almost unconsciously slid a slim blade from the inside of his left bracer to nestle within his palm—

“My lord!” Xai had just reached them. “I suggest you reconsider your appetite for elves—especially these two. A permit is currently being drawn to allow this girl to leave Denerim in my charge, and her mentor here is a skilled assassin.” He bowed, Antivan fashion, his accent deliberately thickened. “Xai Merras of the House of Crows. You are Arl Vaughan, are you not?”

Vaughan quickly withdrew his hand and stepped back a pace. His eyes dropped to the needle-fine stiletto that had materialised in Zevran’s left hand and the elf, willing to play his part in Xai’s charade for now, casually flicked the weapon between his fingers in an idle show of manual dexterity.

Vaughan managed a patrician sneer. “I had no idea the infamous Crows hired livestock.”

“Certainly,” Xai said, unruffled. “We have found that humans much prefer the sensual charms of elves to women of our own kind, and sex is a tried and true method of getting close to a target. Methods vary, naturally…” Xai’s manner remained perfectly professional as Vaughan’s guards exchanged glances, and Vaughan himself tried to look unmoved. “Some are direct and employ a sharp blade. Suffocation and strangulation are not unheard of. Many prefer to use poison that is transferred with bodily fluids, since it requires nothing more strenuous than to make love to their mark.”

There was an awkward silence. Vaughan seemed to be trying to decide whether or not he was being threatened.

“What is an assassin doing in the Ferelden palace grounds?” he demanded finally. “I thought you people skulked around in the dark and committed murder in filthy back alleys. Isn’t walking around in daylight for all to see against the norm?”

Xai chuckled. “My lord, assassination is not all the House of Crows is involved in. We are also greatly interested in politics, and as such we have been investigating the merits of a marriage between the royal houses of Antiva and Ferelden.”

“That’s preposterous,” Vaughan snorted, but his attention was now fully focussed upon the former master. “Ferelden would never accept an Antivan Prince-Consort.”

“I am sure I don’t know who your queen will favour,” Xai replied smoothly, “however, I heard rumours that the current stock of Ferelden gentlemen have failed to impress her.” As Vaughan’s eyes narrowed and he began a retort, the Warden added, “Except for yourself perhaps, my lord. Queen Anora mentioned you by name when I was in her august presence.”

Vaughan’s brows lifted in surprise. “She mentioned me?” Then he grinned. “Ha! About damned time; that woman isn’t easy to melt. Tell me, what did she say?”

“She expressed a desire to speak with you this day, my lord, and hinted at some sort of upcoming public announcement. I expect you will receive word from the palace soon enough.” Xai smiled. “If it means what it sounds like, please allow me to be the first to congratulate you.”

“Of course it’s what it sounds like,” Vaughan said, looking obscenely pleased. “But why wait? I’m already here, so I think I may surprise her. On to the palace, boys,” he added to his guards, and the Denerim party diverted around the supposed Crows to march on their destination.

After a moment or two, Xai smirked at nothing and said, “I don’t know if he’ll behave so ****sure of himself towards the queen that she’ll have him hanged, but the results should be entertaining all the same.”

Zevran said nothing as he returned his blade to its sheath, and hid his grudging admiration of the ploy. Vaughan sauntering into Anora’s presence as though expecting to be handed a crown and a key to the royal apartments would almost certainly get up the queen’s nose, and considering she’d been going to summon him regarding accusations of rape and not propositions of marriage…things could get complicated.

“Thank you,” Shianni whispered. Both men turned to look at her as she wiped self-consciously at her face. “I’m sorry, I—I should get home. Need to pack for tomorrow.”

It was doubtful she owned enough to warrant having to collect her belongings so early in the day, but Zevran didn’t question her excuse to leave. “I will escort you, if you wish?” he offered, and she gave a quick little nod.

“You can come too if you like,” she said to Xai, and missed Zevran’s small frown when the former master smiled.

“I would be delighted.”

They left the palace, Xai strolling ahead while the two elves followed. Zevran managed to keep silent for the space of a street before glancing at Shianni and saying, “Might I ask a question?” At her nod, he said, “Yesterday you mentioned hitting noblemen over the head with bottles, and I couldn’t help noticing something the arl said just before. Would I be correct in assuming that you struck him?”

“Yes,” she said quietly, hugging her arms. “It’s what started this whole mess. I didn’t know who he was, or I’d never have—” Shianni stopped abruptly and ran both hands over her face and through her hair. “Maker, I’m babbling. Just forget I said anything.”

“Do not tell me you are blaming yourself for what he did,” Zevran said, frowning.

“Shouldn’t I? If I’d kept out of it it might have been better. M-maybe he would have only taken me instead of the whole bridal party, or-or maybe it wouldn’t have…hurt so m-much.” She folded her arms tightly again and fell silent.

Likely you should have hit him harder, Zevran thought with a dark glance back towards the palace, but didn’t say so. It wouldn’t change what had already happened.

He wanted to say something clever or witty that’d make her smile and revert to the fiery woman he’d seen before, not this…timid and self-doubting creature, but he was no good at talking seriously or being comforting. He’d probably suggest something ridiculous to reduce her tension, like a sensual massage. He was much better at things involving touch than speech.

But he was also good at fighting…

“This trip to Tevinter,” he remarked, “it is likely to take some time, no? Two months? Maybe more?”

Shianni looked uncertain where this was going. “So?”

“So, how well do you know how to use one of these?” Zevran tapped a dagger in his belt.

She shook her head. “Not very.”

Zevran grinned. “Would you like to learn?”

**

By the time they reached the Alienage, Shianni was in better spirits and seemed to be looking forward to the voyage for more reasons than rescuing her kin and getting away from Denerim. She talked freely to both men, and soon started asking Xai questions about Tevinter.

“The Imperium and Antiva are closely connected with the slave trade,” Xai explained. “Elves are the most common merchandise, but there are sometimes humans and even qunari prisoners of war. Dwarves are rarest, I assume due to their magical resistance and thus the difficulty of controlling them if they misbehave. Some people even sell themselves into slavery; it is not uncommon for an elf to provide for his or her family by selling himself and having the profit go to improve the lives of his kin.”

“That’s horrible,” Shianni said flatly.

Xai chuckled. “Is it?” He gestured around at the Denerim Alienge. “Even in disrepair, this is not so rundown a place as the slums in Minrathous, Shianni. The ghettos of your kind and mine stretch further than you will believe, and above the shanties and hovels tower the soaring palaces of the magisters. If you are not a mage in Minrathous, or working for them, then you are worthless.”

“Is Minrathous the only place you’ve been to?”

“When I was a child my family travelled a great deal. I saw several cities before we ended up in Antiva, though I can’t say I remember much of them.”

“You travelled?” Shianni looked interested. “Why? What did your family do?”

Xai paused, glanced at Zevran and then grinned. “We were circus performers.”

Zevran snorted. “Of course you were.”

“Why can’t he be a circus performer?” Shianni challenged, making Zevran blink. “What did you do before you were a Crow?”

“I lived in an Antivan ****house.”

“And why is that any more believable than working in a circus?” she asked, hands on her hips. Behind her, Xai looked on in amusement.

“Because…” Zevran floundered, taken aback and irritated that this was being witnessed by someone he despised. He suspected, however, if he made some comment about Xai being an untrustworthy bastard then the man would make him regret it with a remark of his own. “Fine!” he said at last. “As you wish. Xai worked in a circus.”

“Thank you,” Shianni said, and returned her attention to Xai. “Did you juggle?”

The human was, by now, grinning broadly. “Amongst other things. I preferred to dance.”

Zevran chewed off a disbelieving swear word under his breath. Strictly speaking there was no reason why Xai might not be telling the truth, but after their months of association in Highever and especially after what had been revealed thanks to Master Dario, he was not inclined to trust the human any further than he could be thrown.

Plus, the idea of Shianni befriending him was just…just…

Calm down, Zevran…Yes, the man is a bastard; he was a Crow Master. So stop being so obvious about your disapproval, hm? Being unbalanced around him is unwise.

At the door of Shianni’s house, Xai bade the girl farewell, implicated to Zevran that he would be in the Market District or the Warden compound for the remainder of the day, and departed.

“You don’t like him, do you?” Shianni observed, folding her arms and tilting her head.

“He was a relatively powerful Crow before he became a Warden, and followed a code there was not much to like about,” Zevran said. “He has also tried to work me into positions where I would be killed on a number of occasions. Believe me, my dear, I am fully justified in my dislike.”

“That’s rich,” Shianni said. “You don’t like him because he tried to get you killed? Isn’t that what you did to the Grey Wardens?”

“That was different.” Zevran waved a hand, trying to sound dismissive despite being nettled by her observation. “Besides, even when I was a Crow I had heard some truly delightful stories about him.”

“Oh? Like the stories we’ve heard about you?”

Zevran forced a smile. “Or you can just ignore my instincts,” he said. “After all, they got me where I am now, no?”

“I don’t mean—” Shianni took a deep breath. “Maker, it’s just that we’re going to be on a ship for however long…are you sure the two of you won’t kill each other before we get to Minrathous?”

“I will try to curb my murderous habits, never fear.” He bowed. “I should let you pack. I have errands of my own to see to.”

She nodded. “I have to talk to our elder Valendrian as well. He should be able to give me a list of names of who the Tevinters took. And I might see Alarith too; he used to live in the Imperium. Oh, Zevran?” she added as he inclined his head and moved to leave. “Thanks for standing up to Vaughan before. I mean it.”

Zevran hesitated before bowing a second time. “When we return to Denerim, things will be different,” he assured her. “Anora will have received word from Highever and Vaughan will not possess the same power over this place as he does now. You will see.”

She ventured a smile. “I hope so.”

**

Once back at the Grey Warden compound, Zevran found himself a private space, some parchment and ink, and began scratching out a letter to Alistair, Fergus, Galahan and Sindel. It would take over a week for it to reach Highever, but he would not get another chance for a long time once out at sea.

Greetings from Denerim!

We have only been here little over a day and much has happened, most of it unexpected. Fergus will be pleased to know that his sister is a devious woman, and Alistair will enjoy to hear that she caught Ferelden’s fair queen completely by surprise. As for Galahan and Sindel, I bear news of the Alienage here that will be of interest.

I will explain all, of course, but I must also ask a favour of the fair Sindel…

[Corker]

*blows kisses to Xai* Good form, ser!

[maradeux]

Always these cliffhangers! You are so mean! *shakes a fist*

So, what do I think... Yes, it was a good reaction by Xai. But I hope Xai will not outstrip Zevran. I remember Zevran much more ready-witted than he seems to be in the last chapters. I hope he will not always succumb Xai. That would not be fair towards his character.