Zevran Arainai was, according to all who claimed to know him, a man with no morals. He'd never bothered correcting anyone on that fact. After all, he worked for some rather shady people, ones who knew the value of someone who could be depended upon to do even the dirtiest of jobs. The fact that most women also liked bad boys was just another perk.

Working as a writer for Antiva's Crow Magazine certainly provided no lack of opportunities for getting oneself involved in "questionable" undercover situations. Zevran had only been working there for a few years, but already he'd been involved in many such situations. The time he uncovered an IT worker who was programming viruses into politician's computer networks, or his coverage of the attempted coup of Antiva's (outdated) monarchy a few years back. His favorite shoes had been stolen in the chaos of that second one. Then there was the Lanthrax scare of two years ago, when Zevran watched a man go through all 6 stages of Lantrhax poisoning. After experiencing things like that (and a good deal more work even dirtier than that) it was no surprise to Zevran when his boss, Senior Editor Nuncio C. Lanos, asked to see him one average Monday morning.

Zevran finished the sentence he'd been typing, locked his computer, and then followed the man into his office. Upon entering, he noticed another man whom he'd never before met standing at the window, his back turned to Zevran. The type of "private chat" Zevran knew was coming had happened many times before and required privacy, so Zevran closed and locked the office door behind himself. There were security cameras everywhere at Crow, except for in this office, with good reason. Nuncio tuned to Zevran from his desk.

"Zevran Arainai, I'd like you to meet Rendon Howe. No doubt you've heard of his recent takeover of Highever Advertising?" Zevran inclined his head ever so slightly, saying "Yes, of course. It is a pleasure to meet you, ser."

"Indeed," Howe said as he turned around, a cool sneer in his voice. Howe surveyed the man in front of him, and seemed to find him satisfactory in the way that only sleazy businessmen can.

"To business, then," Began Howe. "I have a job for you, Arainai."

Denerim, two weeks earlier.

"Unacceptable!" Roared Loghain Mac Tir as he slammed the latest copy of Bannorn onto his desk. Gracing its front cover was a large photo of the current thorn in Loghain's side; a new punk rock band called The Wardens. As head of River Dane Records, Loghain had heard them play before, and he had to admit that they were good. Too good, in fact. Maker, he thought, I hope Anora doesn't see this.

Too late. Ferelden's Princess of Pop was already bursting through his office doors, a copy of Bannorn in hand, which she too slammed onto his desk.

"Father, what is the meaning of this? You said you'd take care of this! Make them go away!" She demanded.

Loghain massaged the inner corners of his eyes. "I thought I had, Anora. I made sure that no record label would sign them."

"Then how do you explain this?! She screeched.

Her father sighed, and remained silent. Anora knew by now how to read her father, and she knew a signal to change tactics when she saw one. "Daddy," she said, her eyes growing large and her mouth pouting just a little, "you're the most powerful man in all of Ferelden! Surely there is something more you can do."

Loghain released another sigh and looked at his daughter. Maker help him, he was no match for her. He smiled at her, relenting. "You know I could never say not to you, my girl." He thought for a moment, then walked behind his desk and pressed a button on the intercom and spoke to his secretary. "Miss Cauthrien, get Rendon Howe on the phone for me."

"Right away, ser." She responded.

Anora beamed with malice

Three weeks later, in a small town near Amaranthine.

"Alright, guys, the Battle of the Bands is in two months, and we only get to play one song, so let's make sure it's the best it can possibly be!" Andra Tabris spoke to the rest of the band. She turned to the bass player. "Sten, how's that progression on the bridge coming?"

"It will be perfect with more practice." He vowed stoically.

Andra, deadpan, replied "Terrific. Leliana, have you gotten those chords figured out yet?"

Leliana looked up from her keyboard and smiled apologetically. "Almost, Andra. Dont worry, we'll be ready in time."

Andra sighed, and the room was silent for a moment before a spontaneous drum solo burst from the back of the room.

"Alistair!" Andra yelled to be heard above the din. "Cut that out!"

He ceased his drumming with a shrug and a small smirk, saying "Well, someone had to break the uncomfortable silence."

Andra rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that evening and turned to their lead guitarist. "And Oghren, how many times do I have to tell you not to smash your guitar?"

Once Oghren had been thoroughly admonished, Andra returned to the microphone and took up lead vocals and back-up guitar. Three hours later, the group deemed themselves ready for their gig the next night at the Crown & Lion.

Zevran sat at a table in the Crown & Lion, swirling his drink in its glass. These Fereldens have no idea how to make a proper mojito. he thought. The Wardens were due to start playing any moment now, but currently there was nothing onstage but their instruments and equipment. He was impatient to get to work. Zevran looked around; there were plenty of lovely ladies here tonight who at least appeared to be single. Not that that mattered to him in the least. Right now, he could be enjoying the company of any number of these women, and yet here he was, waiting for someone who was consistently described as a "man-eating shrew" in the press. He took another large swallow of his poorly-made mojito.

Finally The Wardens appeared onstage. Zevran couldn't help but notice the...attributes of the Keyboard player, but then he reminded himself that she wasn't his target. Once everyone else was in place, his true mark, Andra Tabris, walked onstage, and he had to admit to himself that she was utterly gorgeous. The publicity photos he'd seen of her really didn't do her justice. Long, bright red hair, lips full and luscious, a slender waist... and her breasts...

Zevran had seen many fine bosoms in his lifetime, and hers made all those others look water balloons tacked onto a maypole.

Zevran smiled lustfully at her as the band began to play. Seducing her was going to be more fun than he'd thought.