954 réponses à ce sujet

[bob-san]

Decision? Perhaps about Keyley? Mayhaps that be the reason for Zev's hesitation and uncertainty about his self. Does he see these feelings as weaknesses as he keeps proclaiming? Or strengths as someone like Aeden would?



Or am I just talking out my keister and completely off base?



Stay tuned for Sisi's next exciting chapter!

[Sisimka]

bob-san wrote...

Does he see these feelings as weaknesses as he keeps proclaiming? Or strengths as someone like Aeden would?

That is so profound! I've been writing this crap for months now and you've summed up the difference between Zev and Aedan in two sentences! Bravo!

Yes, Aedan sees it as a strength, his relationship with Leli is what keeps him going. But I think as we saw at the end of 'Hero' (feels like she's holding a seminar now), when he had partially accepted her death and given himself to a new purpose  - protecting Ferelden - he would go on without her. But undoubtedly, without her, Luke's induction into the Grey Wardens would have broken him.

Zevran, on the other hand, has seen what opening your heart can do in a different way. There was Rinna, Juilden's family/betrayal, and also, he helped rescue Leli, he was there through that whole ordeal and saw how it tore the two of them to pieces.

He's had 'emotion' beaten out of him from a young age whereas Aedan comes from a very stable and loving background. It's natural that they have different ideals, but as their stories unfold, it's interesting to see what might change their minds...

Kayley will be a part of Zevran's decision...

[MireliA]

Good to see some fighting



And both Zevran and Aedan may have been influenced by each other. Zev is certainly not the same person that he was when he tried to kill the wardens. Strange how people can have an influence on you in so many ways.

[Olwaye]

So, you've heard the lady Zev, your choice, good luck making up your mind.

Great work Sisi.

[Maximus741000]

That was a great chapter with some exciting scenes! I really liked how much you delved into Zevran's character and how similar he is to Aedan in the way his emotions conflict, but reacts to them differently. I also liked your reason for Aedan feeling total resentment for the nobility, it's an interesting perspective for me because my character did not want to give up his noble background, and felt Loghain was not as much his enemy as Howe was, so he let Alistair take that final blow.

[Kulkodar]

Gods this is a wonderful story. I'm supposed to be headed to bed, but had to catch up. Loving the intricacies and Zev's complexity. Well done Sisi!

[Sisimka]

Chapter Nine

Zevran drew in a breath and glanced about him into the darkness. Detecting no sound, no movement, he dropped to his knees beside the first of the three bodies and rolled it over. Fear, raw and unchecked, swirled through him as he checked each leather-clad form, hoping each time he turned over a shoulder that it would not be his brother. Juilden did not lie among them.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness Zevran saw a trail of blood leading across the flagstone path and into the garden. He stood and winced at his own various wounds and took a moment to shake the stiffness out of his limbs before following. The trail widened and Zevran’s heart thudded as he rounded the carefully manicured edge of a hedge to find Juilden leaning against the outer wall, his hands clutched about his abdomen. Dropping to his knees beside his brother Zevran immediately felt about his belt for the potions and poultices they had readied for this mission. He pulled the stopper from a bottle and held it to Juilden’s dark lips.

“Drink, brother.”

Juilden attempted to swallow and coughed. Though the sound was horrible, Zevran took comfort in the fact his brother had produced a deep, wracking cough rather than any wet hissing sounds. It confirmed a relative soundness of body. As the potion began to take effect colour returned to Juilden’s cheeks and his eyes opened. His voice rasped. “They were waiting for me.”

“I know, we should have stayed together. I am sorry.”

Juilden weakly waved a hand. “Either way might have been the same.” His eyes sharpened then and he grabbed at Zevran’s leathers. “You are here, you live!”

Zevran chuckled, a dry, humorless sound and nodded. “We could say my meeting with the Baron went well, yes?”

Juilden simply nodded in response and his eyes began to drift closed. Panic welled up within Zevran and he patted at his cheeks. “Stay with me now.”

His brother’s unremarkable brown eyes opened and focused once more. Zevran moved Juilden’s hands away from his leathers and began to inspect and dress his wounds. The deepest had parted the leather and nicked a rib bone. It had to hurt and Zevran did what he could to numb the pain with what materials he had on hand. His own aches, bruises and cuts complained, but he ignored them as he tended his brother. Juilden’s eyes fell closed again, but his chest rose and fell evenly and Zevran let him sleep as he finally tended to his own wounds. His back crawled constantly as though eyes watched them, but his senses did not detect any in the garden but themselves.

After packing away his first aid supplies and properly cleaning his weapons Zevran looked around for Anora’s head. His lips stretched into a grin as he stealthily retraced his steps to the balcony when he contemplated his gruesome task. But it would not do to leave this estate without his prize. He found the pillowcase beneath a rose bush and saw that it had become stained and torn, but it would hold his trophy until he found a better receptacle.

Juilden still slept when he returned to the alcove between the hedge and the wall and after a moment, Zevran sat beside his brother and stretched out his legs. Leaning his head against the wall he allowed his eyes to drop closed. He didn’t sleep, he merely meditated, letting his senses extend beyond himself and into the garden, laying in wait for any disturbance as he sought to rest and find some peace within his mind. Though enormously relieved no more assassins were on their way to Ferelden, he still worried about the remaining four. Also, there was the matter of the baron to consider. He would discover his dead assassins and know that Zevran still lived. Would the game end here, would the baron tip his hat to the superior rogue and call the contest even? Other unfinished business included the matter of Juilden’s family and the proposed meeting with the guild master.

Zevran sighed softly, letting his limbs loosen and relax further. He had now been in Antiva two days and already the swift pace of life as a Crow had caught up with him. It had only been three years, and one of those had been nearly as torturous as this, though granted, the darkspawn generally fought with less skill, but the last two had been somewhat restful. Zevran had a choice to make and he reflected on the choice he had made two years ago when Aedan had asked him to stay in Ferelden, as a friend. Both of them had known it might be temporary. Aedan was not a stupid man, he’d acknowledged the danger of the Crows even then. Now Zevran saw a chance to put aside that danger once and for all.

The edges of the sky had started to grey with the approaching dawn when Juilden stirred and Zevran opened his eyes. “Brother, are you well?”

Juilden squinted into the murky light and nodded. “I will live. What is our next move?”

“As I see it we have two choices this morning, excluding the needs for food and rest.” Zevran smiled and he saw Juilden’s countenance lighten in return. Working with a partner again revitalized Zevran, it felt good to discuss a plan of action rather than take sole responsibility for it. Zevran enumerated their choices. “One, we check on your family and if possible, secure them. Two, we take our meeting with the Crows. What say you, brother?”

Juilden’s eyes darkened at the mention of his family and his face dropped toward his lap a moment. “I have been trying not to think about them, Zevran. I almost do not want to know their fate. I have been trying to harden my heart again, but once breached, that wall is forever weak.” Juilden sighed. “But thoughts of them will only torture me unless I can hold them in my arms or finally lay them to rest.”

Zevran nodded quietly and sympathetically. He waited for Juilden to finish reflecting upon his words and to speak again.

“Let us take this meeting first. Then we must get you to a ship, brother. The King of Ferelden awaits your service!”

Zevran placed a hand on Juilden’s shoulder. “I will see this out with you first. We will settle the matter of your family before I leave.”

They nodded shortly at one another, an affirmation and agreement and Zevran rose gracefully to his feet holding out a hand t his brother. Juilden stood with remarkably little assistance; the Brethren obviously spent good coin on their potions and poultices and he looked much recovered. They both looked at the sack and Zevran reached for it first. He hefted the slight weight and then tied it to his belt. No doubt the morning would involve more climbing and he wanted his hands free. They stopped by a fountain and both drank greedily before splashing their hands and faces, working the worst of the dried blood away. They looked at one another in the brightening light and laughed softly, pointing out another smudge here and there. It would not do to be seen on the streets looking quite so… bloodied.

Climbing the wall, the rogues paused at the top and took in the vista below. Behind them the palace rose against the dawn sky, a grand structure surrounded by vast gardens. They had both had occasion to visit there, neither of them as an invited guest. Zevran’s mind flicked quickly to that last assignment, the prince, his mistress and the baron’s daughter. Her dying, pleading face came to mind and he blinked, shook his head and banished it. What is done is done. They dropped to the ground and slipped into the shadow of the wall. Once again they travelled in the long grey shadows of morning light, hugging walls, avoiding lampposts and taking to the roofs as necessary as they crossed town to the merchant district once more.

They slowed upon approach to the official Crow headquarters and glanced down at themselves, checking their gear and appearance and then at each other. Exchanging a curt nod they stepped to the front door and rang the bell. An elf greeted them and his expression clearly indicated they were expected and they followed him to the same sitting room as on their previous visit.

“Good morning, Zevran.” Sebastian’s tone held a surprising amount of friendliness and respect. Zevran raised a brow and then smiled in return. Ah, so this meeting is a mere formality and Sebastian already curries favour with the master’s new second. This thought warmed him, immeasurably so. It had been a long time since anyone had accorded him that sort of respect and it unlocked something within him. Zevran glanced at Juilden and saw that his brother had taken a straighter stance, had also responded to the unspoken exchange and stood at his side.

A shadow passed the doorway and from it emerged a man, an elf. Zevran schooled his expression to one of neutrality with a hint of the respect he should show the guild master he had never met. The master was a slight man, pale, yet dark. His skin almost resembled white ash, it was so colourless, and his dark hair looked inky black against it. Pointed ears poked beneath the braids that held his long hair away from his face and he surveyed the room with cat-like eyes which looked at one moment green, the next yellow. He was not a young man, though his demeanor was youthful, and Zevran put him at roughly the same age as himself. He knew this man had led the Antivan crows for about ten years, having ascended to the position in the usual way – assassinating his predecessor.

The master crossed the room and extended a hand. “Welcome, Zevran. I thank you for accepting my invitation.”

Zevran took the outstretched hand and found himself momentarily lost for words. This man had such a presence, a magnetism, it almost overwhelmed him. He felt a tingle as their fingers brushed and found his voice. “It is my pleasure, Master.”

Dropping his hand the master smiled. “You may call me Seryer.” Seryer turned to Juilden and repeated his gesture, holding out his hand and offering a genial greeting. “Juilden, it would be my pleasure to welcome you back into the fold.”

Zevran sensed Juilden’s reaction mirrored his own and the three of them stood silently regarding one another a moment before Seryer spoke over his shoulder. “Sebastian, perhaps you might assist Derik this morning. I would like to conduct a private meeting with Zevran and Juilden.”

A slight flitter of annoyance crossed Sebastian’s features before he bowed slightly and silently left to do his master’s bidding. That he had met the master, knew his name and his face, must have appeased him enough to not take more insult at his dismissal. Though he did enjoy the position of second in the guild, he had undoubtedly risen high.

Seryer took a seat and gestured for them to do the same and Zevran sat back into the upholstered chair he had chosen. Though he had rested, his body was weary and he still felt his wounds. He sat with the guild master himself and was most likely surrounded by Crows. He would not be fighting his way out of this situation, therefore he relaxed back into the comfortable cushions and let out a small sigh of pleasure. Juilden did exactly the same.

“Rough night?” A smile played about Seryer’s lips as he shifted his eyes from one to the other in appreciation of their relaxed state.

“You could say that, yes.” Zevran replied. He then noticed that the pillowcase had flopped into his lap and he looked at it dumbly for a moment.  Laughter bubbled up inside him. Here he sat in what might undoubtedly be the most important meeting of his life and he had a head in his lap. How appropriate, he thought. His mouth twitched and when he looked up, Seryer had raised a hand above his head in a summoning gesture. Unseeing eyes answered his call and a slight elf slipped into the room.

“Find Zevran a suitable container for his trophy would you?”

The elf nodded his head in a bow and left the room only to return a few moments later with a small wooden crate appropriately sized for a head. They had many of these in storage; severed heads were popular requests. Between them the transfer went smoothly and the elf said he would return the crate after it had been treated and sealed. Zevran nodded.

“Now, to business!” Seryer spread his arms out to either side of himself across the back of the couch and relaxed with the demeanor of a man who had not a care in the world. Zevran envied his relaxed posture, his confidence, his assured manner. This was not a man in conflict with himself.

Zevran did not want to speak first, he experienced a sudden flutter of nerves. Perhaps he’d misinterpreted the offer? Seryer continued, however.

“When you left Antiva not to return I did not expect to see you alive again, Zevran.” Seryer’s shoulders shrugged lightly. “This is the way of the Crow. I did not mourn you, nor would you have expected me to, no? But to see you now, after the number of assassins that have been sent after you, I am impressed!” Seryer’s almond shaped eyes moved to Juilden. “I understand your brother had a great deal to do with this. Tsk, tsk, killing your brethren to save the life of your brother. Would you believe me if I said I was touched by the gesture?”

Juilden nodded and Zevran felt his head bobbing along. He did believe it, otherwise why did they both sit here now, alive? Seryer did not wait for any response, he merely continued as if they conversed like this every day.

“Despite your training, you two have retained a bond. This interests me and I have a use for it. I see strength in this bond of blood that exceeds that of simple brotherhood and I think it will serve us all well. An assassin can never really trust the man at his back, can he? But perhaps you can, Zevran, and you, Juilden.”

Seryer leaned forward and rubbed his hands together. “Join me, brothers! This war has decimated both organizations, now is not a time to be weak. Let us take the Crows in a new direction, to new heights!”

Juilden spoke up then, his voice quiet and plain spoken. “You are aware that I caused this war, and yet you would reward me?”

“You yet live!” Seryer’s manner sobered a little. “You are Antivan, Juilden; this is hardly the first guild war you have experienced. It happens. You actions merely tipped the scales once again. If I were dead, perhaps I would feel differently, but I am not, and so I would rather have you at my side. You, my friend, are a dangerous man.”

Zevran liked Seryer, he couldn’t help it. He almost felt he had stars in his eyes as he gazed at the guild leader, absorbing his words and his mannerisms. The confidence, the assurance, the vision for the future of the Crows, it enticed and excited him as nothing had for so long.

A knock at the door preceded the return of the elf with Zevran’s box. Zevran nodded at him in thanks and studied the box on the floor beside his chair. It represented duty; he had to return to Ferelden. Looking at the box, he saw not Anora’s head, but Alistair’s face, Aedan and Leliana. He could even picture their children, the stout Riordan and the shy Luke. He felt a tug and though he wanted to deny it, it was there. He realised he loved these people in a way, they had become his family. He had even developed a fondness for Brenna, Ferelden’s future queen. Last of all, he saw Kayley, her pretty elven features that contrasted so with his own. She had a delicate face and a serene and down to earth outlook on life. Her presence always soothed him and as though his refusal to think of her these past few days was being punished, he now found it hard to think of anything else. He fought his feelings, he resisted the pull, but a small voice, a combination of Aedan’s and Seryer’s had started to whisper at him. Perhaps his heart was not a weakness after all?

In a voice gruff with repressed emotion, Zevran gave his reply. “I have unfinished business in Ferelden.”

“That you do. Here is what I propose: Finish your task, Zevran, it does not reflect well to leave a job undone. If you return to Antiva, I will take you as my second.” Seryer’s entire manner darkened as he continued. “If you fail to return, you will be as dead to me. You know what this means, yes?”

Zevran nodded. It meant he would never be able to return to Antiva again.

[Sandtigress]

Juilden refused to die, huh? I expected you to kill him! :-P Ah, stubborn stubborn characters...

[Sisimka]

Sandtigress wrote...

Juilden refused to die, huh? I expected you to kill him! :-P Ah, stubborn stubborn characters...

Oh, Sandi, his name was pencilled in on the Dead Body List, I swear, but ... *sigh*... I couldn't do it. He was supposed to die then. There will be another price to pay instead...

[Sandtigress]

Uh oh....you're not going to go Final Destination on him, are you? :-P

[bob-san]

Hmmmm, well, knowing Zev's appearance in Gifts, "The elf looked like a different man. His eyes lacked their usual warmth and luster and his mouth formed a hard line were usually he held an easy smile.", my guess is there is/was some sort of sacrifice. I would say quite possibly his brother and/or Antiva.

[FerreusVir]

Man! The introduction of Seyer was awesome, felt like the Godfather talking to two of his prodigal sons or something.



I figure Juilden may take the position if his family lives but not Zev, and that may be why he looks so different at the end of Gifts.

[Sisimka]

FerreusVir wrote...

Man! The introduction of Seyer was awesome, felt like the Godfather talking to two of his prodigal sons or something.

I'm glad you liked him. As I wrote that paragraph I got shivers, honestly! I am going to write more Seryer, I'm in love! A sequel to Brothers has officially been added to the 'to do (write)' list!

To the rest of you, thanks for reading - as always - I'm enjoying reading all your speculations!

[Masticetobbacco]

lol your zevran is starting to become your mary sue isnt he

anyway:

[Olwaye]

This Seyer should have die there and then, he's charismatic, stylish, probably deadly, got a vision and is probably perfectly ok with what he is, and he's quite likeable, and makes the kind of offer you can not refuse.

One should always kill people like that in a story, they're always trouble, kill them first ask question later says I



Choices have been made, prices will be paid, and Sisi just showed how good she was at telling great stories and creating intersting characters.

[Sisimka]

Sorry, sorry, sorry. I'm working on the next chapter. When I post it I think you will all understand the delay. It's been a really HARD chapter to write. Will continue to edit tonight and hopefully post tomorrow.

[Maximus741000]

Sisi, don't worry - not one tiny bit. As much as I was waiting for your wonderful return, I knew you would have good reason to be absent. Nevertheless I look forward to it.

[Sisimka]

Chapter Ten

Zevran cleared his throat gently and Seryer raised a brow in his direction. Trying not to flinch beneath the master’s penetrating glare he stated his second purpose. “Juilden also has a duty to discharge before he is free to join,” he hesitated between saying ‘you’ or ‘us’, “the Crows.”

“The matter of his family?”

Zevran echoed Juilden’s quiet gasp. They shouldn’t have been shocked, either of them, not really, but it still surprised to know just how much information Seryer had access to.

Juilden’s voice almost cracked. “Do you have any information?”

“Only that they exist, Juilden, and that they are not where they should be, hm?” Seryer studied the former brethren a moment before continuing. “Perhaps there is something I can do on this score.”

Juilden swallowed and Zevran could almost hear the lump in his brother’s throat. Accepting this offer would effectively bind Juilden to Seryer and despite his love for his family, this would be a hard decision, or so Zevran felt, but Juilden immediately followed his dry swallow with, “Anything, Seryer, anything you could do would be appreciated.”

Another raised hand summoned the same elven rogue and Seryer spoke almost inaudibly into his ear a moment before looking up. “I will call for a parlay.” His shoulders shrugged lightly once again. “If Cerin honors it, you will have an audience with her and may ask after your family.”

Zevran could not hide the shock on his face, Juilden simply looked almost pathetically grateful. Zevran reached forward and placed a hand on his brother’s arm. “Juilden, you…” He had no right to talk his brother out of this move. This was Juilden’s wife and child! Aedan would do the same with even less hesitation and more at stake.

Juilden turned to look at his hand and then raised his face to meet his eyes. Zevran merely nodded and removed his hand.

“Would it surprise you, Zevran, that I make this gesture as Juilden’s payment for services rendered?”

Zevran turned to Seryer in surprise. “You are not at all as I expected, Seryer, I do not think anything you could do would surprise me any longer.”

Seryer clapped his hands together and laughed. “You have discovered my secret then! Always keep them guessing my young rogues! Always keep them on their toes.”

The way he said young caught Zevran’s attention and he studied Seryer properly, discovering that he looked older than he had at first appeared. He carried more age and wisdom within his eyes than his youthful aspect accounted for, and the deep gloss of his hair might have been perhaps a bit too shiny. An application of colour over the beginnings of grey? The master obviously relied upon his cunning and perhaps had the art of glamour to subtly blur his appearance upon first meeting. This was not unheard of and would indeed be a skill someone in his position would cultivate and use. Seryer’s eyes met his and Zevran flicked his glance away.

“Thank you, Seryer.” Juilden’s voice showed proper respect and Zevran echoed it.

They left Anora’s head in the Crows’ diligent care. Under instruction from Seryer, Sebastian would undertake two tasks on behalf of the brothers. The first would be to secure them passage to Ferelden the following day, courtesy of the Crows.

“Consider this your payment for services rendered.” Seryer put forth in a tone that invited no further discussion.

The second task did not sit well with Sebastian, he’d been unable to hide his scowl upon receiving his instructions. He would be waiting at the docks for them at the appropriate time with the box. Zevran understood the gesture. Sebastian would learn his place in the order of things and Zevran would be officially escorted onto the ship and away from Antiva.

Further, the brothers were invited to rest, clean up and have their wounds properly tended. Zevran took advantage of the offer – looking back over the previous few days, he had no idea when such an opportunity might come again, and though he hoped to be aboard a ship to Ferelden tomorrow he knew nothing was certain until it was done. 

A rested and refreshed pair of rogues left the house several hours later and Zevran gestured to Juilden to take the lead. Out of habit they slipped from shadow to shadow, taking advantage of the slanting afternoon light, but both knew it wasn’t really necessary. If the leader of the Crows had sent them to visit the leader of the Brethren only a fool would intervene. The house they had escaped from two nights earlier stood only a short distance away and they reached it within twenty minutes, both them completing the journey in silence. They stopped across the street and glanced at one another, the house and then one another again. Zevran didn’t have to ask what Juilden thought. His own mind screamed at him that they were fools to come back here, despite assurances of talk and deals.

Squaring their shoulders they crossed the road together with Juilden taking the lead as they nimbly ascended the three stone steps to the portico. The front door almost opened before Juilden finished knocking and they were invited into the building.

Cerin waited for them in a downstairs sitting room, an altogether more pleasantly furnished chamber than the room Zevran had awoken to on his previous visit. She rose and greeted them coolly, but cordially, and her manner made it plain only her honor kept her from having the pair of them dragged into the dungeon on sight. The war must have cost the Brethren as greatly as the Crows if she did not seek to anger Seryer.

No one sat. They all stood awkwardly in front of chairs until Cerin perched on the edge of the chair behind her, looking down as she smoothed her skirts. Zevran and Juilden copied her, also resting the barest amount of leather on the chairs behind them, their legs evenly spaced, their hands resting lightly atop their thighs. The silence continued a moment until Cerin cleared her throat in a professional manner and said, “Well, gentlemen, you called this meeting, how can I help you?”

Juilden got straight to the point. “I have come for my family.”

Cerin purred in return, “Ah. And what will you give me in exchange?”

Juilden blinked and Zevran did too. “Exchange?”

“We are making a trade, yes?” Cerin arched a brow and her expression clearly read, ‘You should have expected this.’

Zevran felt his shoulders slump. Whatever the price, he knew it would be too high. Juilden dropped forward from his chair, on his knees in front of Cerin. Zevran shook his head. “Juilden, no.”

“Me. That is the price, am I correct?”

Cerin turned an eye upon Zevran. “You see, Zevran, I do pick the clever ones.”

“No.” Zevran stood. He did not reach for his weapons, but his posture clearly stated his intention.

Cerin merely looked at him without inviting or deterring and a lengthy silence ensued. Finally Cerin said, “Are you going to draw your blades or not, Zevran?”

Zevran did not know what he would do. He didn’t want his brother to die, but he didn’t quite like the idea of dying himself, either, which is what would happen if he drew his blades in front of Cerin. He dropped his hands and said, “Something else, Cerin. Name another price.”

Cerin laughed harshly. “I am touched! Your brother betrayed you, Zevran. He killed his brethren! He killed Crows! Yet you would beg for his life?”

Zevran dropped his head and looked at Juilden, examined his brother’s face. He saw a broken man again. “If I pay the price, will you give Juilden his family and let them sail to Ferelden?”

“Are you offering yourself, Zevran?”

“In a way.”

“Oh? This should be interesting.” Cerin looked intrigued.

“We have come here with honorable intent, Cerin. I propose we settle this the same way, as has been done for centuries. A duel. Will you fight me yourself?” Zevran allowed himself to give her an appraising look. “Or choose a champion?”

Zevran had no idea if this would work, he merely stalled for time as his mind ticked over the possible ways he could extract both himself and Juilden from this nest of Brethren and get them both on the ship to Ferelden. His brother might forgive him, in time. Cerin looked at him oddly and then she smiled, slowly, a predatory sort of smile.

“And intriguing idea, Zevran. What do you think, Juilden?”

Juilden worked his mouth, but not words came out.

“He is dumbstruck!” Cerin cackled.

Zevran lowered his brows and said quietly, “Juilden?”

Juilden got to his feet. “I will fight.”

Zevran looked into his brother’s eyes expecting to see the broken spirit of a man who would not last one minute in a duel and found instead determination. They stared at one another and Juilden’s brown eyes deepened, darkened and Zevran almost flinched. He nodded and stepped back.

Juilden turned to Cerin. “Name your champion.”

“Though it would amuse me to have you fight one another, that would hardly be fair, now would it. And not really within the rules seeing as neither of you serve me.” Her eyes locked with Juilden’s and her intent was clear. She no longer considered him a member of the Brethren.

“You may stand down gentlemen there is no need for your duel. Though the idea amuses me to no end, I’m not sure you’d find the reward equal to the task. I have already extracted my payment, you see. I am a wicked woman, am I not, seeking further exchange? But our banter has been such a light moment in an otherwise dull day.”

Zevran shivered then, he had an inkling of what was to come but his mind refused to nudge it further and even shied away from the thought.

Cerin lifted her chin, her gesture to unseen eyes so much more subtle than Seryer’s raised hand. The door opened and two brethren came in holding two bulging sacks. They stepped forward and dumped the sacks in front of her and then quietly left the room. Zevran took a step back and closed his eyes.

Juilden dropped to his knees with a cry that didn’t sound human and his fingers clutched at the rope tied around the top of the largest one. Zevran quickly crouched beside him and stayed his hand.

“Juilden, don’t…”

Juilden shoved his hand away and continued pulling at the rope, his face a mask of pain. Zevran honestly didn’t know what to do, he didn’t want to see what made these sacks bulge with odd protrusions and he didn’t think Juilden’s mind would stand it either. But on the other hand, perhaps he Juilden needed to know, needed to see, so that he could…no, no one needed to see this.

He pulled at Juilden’s hands again and held them both tightly within his. “Juilden stop! You do not want to see, trust me brother, you do not want to see this.”

Turning toward the sacks again, Juilden pulled weakly against Zevran’s grip and then folded completely for a moment and Zevran thought his brother was going to collapse on the floor he leaned so heavily into his hands. Then Juilden pushed himself against Zevran’s hands and launched himself to his feet with a strangled cry. He ran at Cerin with his hands outstretched.

“You *****!”

Zevran sprang to his feet and stepped up to restrain Juilden. Not because he feared for Cerin’s life, but for that of his brother. “Juilden, no!”

Juilden elbowed him across the face and Zevran stumbled back as his brother threw himself at Cerin. The door to the room banged open and the two men were back and they fell on Juilden, pulling him away from the leader of the Brethren before he even touched her and bore him to the floor, pinning him there. Zevran shook his head and steadied his footing but did not move to intervene. His mind whirled. That the brethren merely held Juilden to the floor rather than outright killing him was a good sign. Zevran laughed bitterly at this thought, there was nothing good about any of this. He looked up at Cerin and noted she looked completely unfazed, her honey coloured eyes resting dispassionately on Juilden.

“Escort these Crows from my house.” She flicked a glance toward the sacks. “And make sure he does not forget to take his family.”

Juilden continued to struggle against the men holding him on the floor and they made no move to let him go until he quieted a little. Zevran still stood dumbly, his eyes on his brother, but barely focused. Of all the contracts he had fulfilled, of all the assassinations he had performed, nothing had ever been like this. He’d never killed a child, never, and the thought that one lay inside a sack, his eyes flicked to the smallest sack, filled him with a grief he’d never experienced before. He felt an odd curiosity over the sack, a draw to it, but shaking his head he stood his ground and waited cautiously for Juilden to calm down. It would do no good to intervene; he would comfort his brother at a better time, in a better place.

Finally Zevran crouched down and inserted himself between the two brethren to put a hand on Juilden’s shoulder. Juilden looked up at him and seemed to calm for a moment. “Juilden, we need to leave.”

He hated saying these words, they seemed so cold, but Zevran was at a complete loss. He just wanted to get his brother out of here, away from Cerin and a situation that would likely drive him mad. He said his name again, “Juilden.”

Juilden stopped struggling and the brethren leaned back. Zevran helped him to his feet and without a backward glance at Cerin he led his brother to the door, down the hall, and out of the house. They walked down the stairs, across the street and around the corner. Zevran saw a small public garden and led Juilden into it. His brother walked stiffly, one foot in front of the other, not making a sound, his eyes staring dully ahead. When Zevran stopped Juilden stopped, turned and said, “We have to go back, I cannot leave them there.”

Then he crumpled. He put his arms out and fell to his knees and made awful sobbing sounds. Zevran knelt next to him and slipped beneath Juilden’s arms so that he hugged his brother. Juilden dropped his head to Zevran’s shoulder and shook with tears and sorrow. Zevran had no idea how long they stayed in that garden, but the air cooled and night fell and still Juilden grieved. Zevran sat there and thought about a lot of things. None of it new, the same faces the same places, the same confusing tugs of emotion. He knew he was avoiding thinking about the decision he had to make and eventually he closed his eyes and let those thoughts come too. If he returned to Antiva and took a position at Seryer’s side, he would be condoning this sort of action. This would be his lot - this web of deceit and lies and this devaluing of life, the hardening of hearts and the fulfilling of contracts. He did not doubt that Seryer would be capable of actions similar to what Cerin had done and he shivered at the thought. He had harbored ambitions to lead the Antivan Crows? He had desired to be that kind of man? He had changed, he accepted it now, and his decision would be whether or not he accepted that change.

[Sandtigress]

Oh, I knew you were going to do that, right when I started the chapter!!!!! Especially after seeing that particular episode of you know what that made me all sad!



Great chapter though, and Zevran has a lot to think about now. Think think think Zevran, you know what's best for you!

[Olwaye]

Back in black aren't we?



Great chapter Sisi, and where are we going now? From despair to where?

[MireliA]

Poor Juilden . I had a feeling it would not be a straightforward trade.

[Maximus741000]

I too felt sorry for Juliden, I sure hope Zevran and Juliden bring those Brethren to justice.

[FerreusVir]

Cerin needs to die, slowly and painfully.



Well written Sisi, a true sense of sorrow and loss, while I can only assume rage is a close third.

[Sisimka]

Chapter Eleven
 
Zevran had a surprisingly easy time getting Juilden aboard the ship to Ferelden. He had not planned to take his brother with him, but now he did not dare leave Juilden unattended or alone in Antiva.  Juilden functioned, but barely. Cerin had Juilden’s family delivered to them by way of the Crows. Zevran made discreet arrangements to have them buried and allowed Juilden to finally pay his respects at the freshly filled gravesides. He covered all the expenses himself, not wanting to be further beholden to Seryer.
 
The voyage to Ferelden proved restful and did much to ease both men. Zevran encouraged Juilden to work out with him daily and did his best not to allow his brother to brood. But every now and then he left him to his own devices knowing that sometimes a man just needs to be left alone with his thoughts.
The evening before they were due to reach Denerim found Zevran on deck pursuing an oft repeated ritual, leaning over the railing and gazing upon the approaching coastline of Ferelden as it lay within the shadows of the setting sun.
 
“Contemplating your future?”
 
Zevran turned, surprised to find Juilden on deck and in what appeared to be a conversational mood. “I do little else. What of you?”
 
Zevran didn’t directly ask after his health, mental or physical, but waited for Juilden to supply a response as he saw fit. Juilden’s eyes clouded and the now familiar mask of grief settled into the features of his face, but it had softened by the smallest amount and his brother took a deep breath before answering, “I abide.”
 
Zevran dropped his gaze to the polished deck. When they did not spar or train together their conversations became stilted like this. It was to be expected and Zevran did not mind so much. But he did wonder what Juilden’s future held also, if his brother had given it any thought, or if he allowed his mind only to be consumed by thoughts of his family and their loss.
 
“Have you…”
 
“Will you…”
 
They smiled at one another and shared a quiet chuckle. Juilden gestured toward him and Zevran started again. “Have you given any thought to your future?”
 
Juilden surprised him by nodding, briefly and decisively. “I have, brother. But what of you? I would hear your plans first. Will you return to Antiva?”
 
Zevran raised brow at Juilden’s tone and his question. His brother seemed more peaceful today. Perhaps a week at sea had that effect, the endless days, the unchanging vista, the peaceful wind tugging gently at the sail. Suddenly he was glad he’d brought Juilden back to Ferelden with him, he felt that he’d finally done something right.
 
“I do not think so, Juilden, I…” and Zevran couldn’t speak further on it. Every time he thought of Seryer images of Cerin, Juilden’s family, the baron, the baron’s daughter, Taliesin, and Rinna and his head would begin to spin. He’d not thought so hard about some of these people in years and others he never wanted to think about again. And yet, despite the fact he didn’t feel he could step back into that world once more, that he’d changed too much and that the wanton disregard for life actually bordered on horrifying him, he wasn’t sure he could remain in Ferelden anymore either. Because of that very same change.
 
He looked up and caught a familiar hollow look in his brother’s eyes. It reminded him somewhat of himself.
 
“We will arrive in Denerim tomorrow, Juilden. I will find accommodations for you, deliver my package, and then we will talk. Decide our future.” Zevran didn’t know if he and Juilden would continue on together, as brothers, but an increasing part of him hoped so.
 
With that he turned to watch the sun finish its descent and Juilden joined him against the rail and they stood there until the night turned black and they could not see the water below.
 
+++++
 
Zevran could hear the familiar sounds of metal upon metal, the thump and whack of shields and practice dummies, the yell of men and the genial laughter of comradeship as he approached the practice yard at the side of Fort Drakon.
 
He’d stopped at the palace first and been directed to the fort. Though the city had seemed peaceful when they arrived, with no ominous cloud of grief hovering in the air and no proclamations that the king was dead, Zevran still derived a huge sense of relief at finding the palace bustling as usual. The guard had been tripled and though he was well known, they still detained and questioned him, asked about the contents of the box he held beneath his arm.
 
Leliana came to greet him and as always she wrapped her arms about him in a hug. It was a simple gesture, one she gave with little thought beyond her own desire to connect with or comfort a friend. Zevran felt himself stiffen within the fond clasp and she drew back and gave him a worried look.
 
“Zevran, I am so happy to see you, but you do not look happy to see me.”
 
Though happy to see her, she made him feel uncomfortable. Leliana’s presence could be at once complicated and simple. She knew what sat in the box beneath his arm, he could see it in her eyes, and she likely knew better than any other in Ferelden the swirl of uncertainty that churned his gut. She would listen if he wanted to talk, but Zevran found himself oddly reluctant to take the opening. Leliana radiated a sense of peace and he would only disturb it with his tale.
 
Instead he asked after their companions and their fate. “Alistair, Aedan? The assassins?” He didn’t know which to ask after first, but her serene manner seemed to indicate most of the answers he sought.
 
She placed a hand on his arm. “They are at the Fort, Zevran. Aedan sent Runir to replace you, they are fine.”
 
“My Lady?”
 
Leliana turned and stepped away to listen to the palace steward, Zevran heard them discussing something about the kitchen, the wedding banquet and disgruntled cooks. “Did you ask Brenna?” she said and the steward explained, “She said to check with you?”
 
Leliana turned and gave Zevran and apologetic smile. “Go to the Fort, Zevran, we can catch up later. I must…” and she waved her hand in an gesture, rolling her eyes to indicate her amusement over being summoned to the kitchens to sort out a dispute.
 
It was all so normal and odd at the same time. Zevran backed away with a nod and left the palace.
 
He paused at the gates to the practice yard and surveyed the men and women. Many of the faces were familiar as a good portion of Ferelden’s wardens were in Denerim for Alistair’s wedding. He watched them working out for a moment, his practiced eye noting clever moves and picking out faults, and remembered the sense of fulfillment he’d had helping not only the rogues but the warriors learn new techniques, the familiarity of working with men and women he’d come to admire and respect, and the sense that they were fighting for a true cause, not a purse.  He now felt disconnected from them and his face dropped as a hollow feeling enveloped him.
 
Stepping through the gate Zevran moved his eyes over the clustered figures until he finally picked out Aedan and Alistair sitting on a bench. Oghren stood before them and the three men laughed together. A twinge took Zevran, a sadness he couldn’t describe. They had all become so close during the Blight, he even felt some small affection for the dwarf, mostly in regards to his ability to horrify and amuse at the same time.
 
As if sensing his gaze Aedan looked up and caught his gaze, the smile dropping from his face as he reached over to tap Alistair on the arm. Alistair looked up, his expression warm, as always, and beckoned him forward. It was a confident and regal gesture, so far removed from the young warden he’d stopped in the road that fateful day. Zevran nodded, a short jerk of his head, and set his lips into a hard line as he stepped forward, making his way through the soldiers and wardens until he stood before the king.
 
Bowing his head he said formally, “Your Majesty.”

Alistair’s brow creased with concern and he stepped forward to lay a hand on Zevran’s shoulder. He looked him up and down. “You are returned and alive, Zevran. Thank the Maker.” 

“I see you are alive as well, Alistair.” Zevran glanced over Alistair’s shoulder saw Runir leaning against the wall with a studied casualness. Runir had not been a Crow, but was well known to Zevran, they had grown up together to a certain extent. They’d been raised in the same brothel and had competed for the same pockets in the market place. Runir knew his brother. Zevran felt a cold ball form in his stomach as he wondered if Runir knew who the captured brethren had been. He met the other rogue’s eyes and saw immediately that he did. Whether he had shared this news with Alistair and Aedan or not didn’t seem to matter as both the king and Aedan looked at him with warmth, concern and respect. Zevran exchanged a professional nod with Runir and it was returned. They would talk later.
 
Silence fell then, there were too many questions that begged to be asked at once, but everyone’s eyes were on the box. Zevran ignored the direction of their gaze for the moment and asked a question of his own. “The other assassins, were they caught?”

“Yes and one of them turned out to be quite talkative.” Alistair answered.

Zevran nodded quietly, “That would have been Kusin. A mage, yes?” He and Juilden had discussed the other brethren that had been sent. Of all the assassins after Alistair, Kusin could have proved the most dangerous. He had been the one both of them feared might succeed.

“Yes.”

“You dealt with them all I trust?” Zevran’s tone made it abundantly clear what he meant by ‘dealt’.

Alistair answered in the affirmative once again.

“Then this business is done with, Alistair.” He handed the king the box. “Perhaps this is not the most appropriate of wedding gifts, but I think it will serve. I wouldn’t share it with your new wife however.”

Zevran turned and started to walk away. As if delivering the box had lifted a terrible weight from his shoulders he suddenly felt very tired. Weary to his bones, the sort of fatigue that sleep would never cure. The job was done, finished, complete. Alistair lived, Anora did not, and no more assassins were due to arrive. Yet he felt no satisfaction, only a sense of something ending.
 
 Aedan stepped to his side and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Zev, wait.”

Zevran turned reluctantly and he knew his eyes were clouded with weariness and perhaps his sense of loss.
 
Aedan hesitated and Zevran could almost read the questions in his friend’s face. He saw concern there too, he saw that Aedan worried for him. Thankfully Aedan decided not to pursue the matter further right now, there would be time later, perhaps after Alistair’s wedding. He said, “Thank you, Zevran. Ferelden owes you a great debt of gratitude.”

Zevran merely inclined his head and then something, someone, caught his eye and for the first time since he’d stepped through the gates warmth flooded him. Kayley stood behind Aedan and he found the sight of her unexpectedly stirring. He’d thought of her so little in the past three weeks, not because he didn’t want to, but because he feared to. But now that he saw her face, her delicate brows creased in concern and the affection in her eyes, he felt differently. A part of him knew she was an ‘issue’ he needed to resolve, but another part of him also recognised that he was genuinely pleased to see her, and not just because he found her desirable. Besides his lover, she was also his friend.  
 
Aedan turned and gestured her over before returning his attention to Zevran. “It gladdens my heart to see you returned safe, Zev. We’ll talk later?”

Zevran gripped his arm. “As you wish, Aedan.” Then he offered a tentative smile. “It is good to see you too.”

“Commander?” Kayley stood there nervously clasping her hands.

“I’m assigning you to Zevran for the rest of the day, Warden. I don’t want to see either of you until tomorrow, understand?” Aedan’s face held a familiar cheeky grin, though he’d tried for mock seriousness.

Kayley flushed and grinned. “Yes, Commander.”
 
Zevran reached out and took her hand, leading her back through the gates, around to the front of the Fort and out into the street. He had quarters at the palace, a room he actually quite liked. Though small, it was situated on a corner and so had windows facing in two directions, a vantage point he treasured. But instead of leading her to his room, he took her to the gardens nestled within the centre of the palace. If Kayley was surprised he didn’t immediately take her upstairs and ravage her, she didn’t let on, she walked quietly at his side, as was her way.
 
Many thought Kayley to be shy, and she could be, but usually her lack of words simply meant she was listening or waiting until she had just the right thing to say. Zevran found her quietness soothing. Though he enjoyed talking, very much so, and recalled fondly hours spent in conversation with all his companions, he also enjoyed Kayley’s tranquility.
 
They walked for a time, as if they’d simply decided to take a stroll in the gardens, and then Zevran spied a bench set into an alcove of hedge and led her to it, allowing her to sit before he settled beside her.
 
Turning to the side he took her small hand in his again and looked down at it. He’d expected to feel awkward in her company, but he did not. He actually felt calm.
 
“I missed you, Kayley.” The words came unbidden, they simply tumbled from his lips, but that didn’t make them any less true. He didn’t think he’d ever said that to someone before and he chuckled at himself. Kayley was a warden and she often went out on patrol or accompanied Aedan to Denerim and beyond. He’d had plenty of opportunities over the previous two years to miss her, and yet he’d never told her so.
 
Kayley smiled. “I missed you too, Zevran. But I knew you would return.”
 
“Oh, and why is that? Am I really so honorable a man?”
 
Kayley’s eyes widened and she regarded him with an almost stern expression. “Of course you are! The Commander holds your honor as an example to the rest of us. Surely you know this.”
 
He did, but Kayley’s presence had lightened his mood somewhat. He hadn’t completely decided his future yet, but sitting here with Kayley felt more natural than he had imagined it would be. He found himself smiling at her. “So you didn’t think I would return just for you?”
 
Kayley blushed very prettily and as he kissed her he wondered if perhaps his heart hadn’t been as hard as he’d imagined it to be after all.

[bob-san]

Well done Sisi! Seems I got my money's worth missing weekend updates with two to catch up on.



Can I assume, based on the last few bits, that this concludes this tale? It feels like it would be the perfect closer to this story. Zev's still indecisive, but finally coming to see that what he saw as an 'issue' might actually be the best thing for him.



Again, nicely done!