A few words before we start:

If you haven't read By Any Other Name, some things referred to may not be understandable. In later chapters that will not matter overly much, by and large this text can stand alone. If you read this alone, just be prepared for the odd reference to something that happened previously, most things are not that unclear I assume.

And yet again I considered calling the entire story The Song of the Birds, and again I refrain, even though it would really fit. I have now made up my mind to continue well beyond Awakening, how the endeavour after the events of the game will end I do not even know myself yet, however. The title I chose is a song by Serj Tankian. The other title will appear on one of the chapters I reckon, but throughout the story this fits better. I know it's supposed to be a political song, as all of his are, but his lyrics always can be seen from many different angles and I chose one that fits very well.

The chapter heading is also a song, but by Korn, although I always have the Evanescence cover in my ears for some reason.

It says in the summary that this is slightly AU. By that I mean very simply that I have a storyline that is absolutely not in the games or epilogues, and that I might handle some things in a way that is not available in the game. And what happens after Awakening is certainly not anything indicated at any point at the game even though it was conceived because of a codex entry. You'll see what I mean.

Chapter 1

Thoughtless
Zevran

A gloomy light lay over Denerim, and a rotting smell was on the constant wind. Since the defeat of the archdemon seven months ago, it had rained almost ceaselessly with occasional days of dry weather, and the amount of water was turning into a problem. Denerim itself was safe enough, but in some parts of Ferelden, rivers were overflowing, flooding farmlands and houses. What was left of the army helped rebuilding the city and keeping the water at bay with more or less success.

Anora and Alistair's wedding was a grand affair, and enjoyed by the people. The new king promised funds and hands for reconstruction where he could spare them and even helped in person whenever his time allowed it.

The many inhabitants of the palace slowly slunk off to their new destination. One qunari warrior headed for his home. The Hero of Ferelden planned her departure to Amaranthine with a woman called Mhairi: a soldier, and a noble who had sworn to serve the wardens. Her infamous assassin of an escort was also supposed to leave with her, and rumours said that he was going to train all future wardens to be shadows descending on their foes out of nowhere. A young red-headed woman was seen running errands for the royalty wherever a silver tongue was needed, either to soothe people or convince them into something they might not like. Little did they know that her eloquence was not the only reason, but that there was barely a thing that escaped her, which made her a very valuable person when it came to stopping unrest before it arose. This, in turn, made the new king and queen very popular indeed, since they soon got the reputation of always knowing where help was needed. When the young woman announced she would leave for Orzammar soon to learn more about the darkspawn, those who had met her were all in one mind that this was a pity, really, despite her being Orlesian.

A few of the band of misfits that had saved the country were going to stay. King Alistair of course would not leave his city. The drunken dwarf Oghren had disappeared only a fortnight after the defeat of the archdemon and was seen chasing stray darkspawn. The trouble was that he seemed to be in more than one place at once according to the reports, so the information of him wasn't very reliable. The elderly mage Wynne stayed as counsellor for the king, and the warden and her elven lover spent their days discussing what they would teach the recruits and their nights making love. Or at least, that was what the citizens of Denerim said in the taverns up until the day people started claiming he had taken off towards the Free Marches.

A hooded figure in a mage robe hurried through the broken city of Denerim, tripping over stray stones occasionally, eyes everywhere but on the ground. The people rebuilding the city watched without concern. He might be a scavenger, but if that was the case, he would find nothing. More likely he was mad, his wits broken by the horrible fight or the mere presence of the darkspawn. Some people just didn't survive such things with their health intact, and mages were always on the weird side to begin with, weren't they? Funnily enough, scavenger was closer to the truth. Only that valuables were not what the figure was after. It was a person.

Indeed, the figure found his quarry rather soon. Well, not precisely who he had been hoping for, but nearly. 'Si te gustan tus ojos donde están, sigueme. Y cállate.' With that whispered warning, he turned on his heels, striding away, still looking as though his path was erratic. He wondered if his prey scared easily enough to obey, and when he finally stopped and turned after he had walked around a corner, he found that he had judged the man correctly. He pulled him into the blind alley and shoved him hard against the wall. 'Is Ignacio still alive?' he demanded, still in his native tongue, and the scared man nodded. 'Where? In Denerim?'

'No … Not here.'

'Right. Where then?' The man tried to twist out of his grasp but failed. It was rather pathetic.

'I may not tell,' he said desperately.

'Oh, you may tell me. Do you even know who you're talking to?' The man nodded, giving up his efforts to get away.

'Good, then you know what's good for you I suppose. I'll ask one more time. Where is Ignacio?'

'Ju-just outside. Said there was an abandoned qunari camp.'

'Ah, yes, that makes sense. Now let's see if you're smart. Are you going to warn him?'

'N-no, I'll not say a word.' A soft laugh followed this.

'Good boy. Tell me, do you like him?'

'What?'

'Difficult question, is it? Do you like Ignacio? I know he has a thing for the likes of you. I also know that he doesn't have a soul, but you just might have missed that.'

'I … I'd rather not …'

'Thanks, that's my answer. Well, you do not want to look for him then. You might not like what you'll find. Don't mourn him too much in case I have to kill him, he doesn't deserve it.' With that, he slammed his fist into the man's jaw to make sure he would keep his word and slipped quietly out of the city.

The camp still looked as it had the first time. There was a small tent, considering that it had once belonged to a qunari. The remnants of the small fire were warm, and a couple of pots lying beside it indicated that their owner was still around or would return shortly. Well, checking in the tent couldn't hurt.

The man called Ignacio was lying on the bedroll, looking peaceful. The intruder quickly and silently searched for weapons and found several. He moved them all out of the sleeping man's reach and wondered if he was actually awake and hiding another dagger under the blankets. He might have fooled all of Denerim into believing he was merely a friendly merchant, but the fact that he was an assassin, and a master, too, was one that had not escaped the man in the robe. He fished for his own dagger and cleared his throat. Ignacio stirred, but so slowly that he might actually have slept. Well, the sun had risen long ago, so it was time to get up anyway. 'Tsk, tsk, getting careless now you're not in the city?' Ignacio shot to his feet, blinking at the intruder.

'What … you're … Zevran? What do you look like?' His eyes darted to the tent flap and back.

'I preferred not to be recognised,' the answer came simply. 'Do not be fooled into believing you could kill me, though. I am warning you, I am not the man you think you knew. And currently, I am very angry indeed.' He searched in a pocket of the robes and produced a letter. 'Now would you kindly tell me whose handwriting this is?' He extended the piece of paper, and Ignacio took it with a frown.

'Now why would I tell you that?' he asked darkly.

'Because being killed by a dead man is not a worthwhile thing,' Zevran said softly. 'Trust me, you will not do so much as glance hard at your weapons before I kill you. Cesar is dead already, do you really wish to follow?' The lie slipped off his tongue easily, and it had the effect he wished. Not that he fooled himself into believing that the younger man meant anything to Ignacio, but showing that he had not in fact gone soft could not hurt. Ironic really, that Cesar was probably just now getting to his feet and rubbing his jaw. Ignacio would not be so lucky unless he was very cooperative.

'Sandor Vian has a similar handwriting,' Ignacio offered, and Zevran sighed. With one fluid motion he was behind the still slightly sleepy man, pressing his dagger against the skin of his throat.

'I didn't ask for similar,' he said warningly. 'It's not his style, as you very well know.' Ignacio was not as easily scared though, or at least he didn't show it.

'Right … It might also be Miguel Niades,' he said softly. 'Yes, that might fit.' Zevran let go of Ignacio.

'See, that's what I was thinking,' he said. 'The man always chose the tasteless path wherever it was available. So that leaves us with one question. Why would he be bothered to threaten me? Is there a contract on me?' Ignacio eyed the dagger.

'Not a contract,' he said carefully. 'A price on your head.'

'Oh, what an honour,' said Zevran. 'How much?'

'Five-hundred sovereigns,' Ignacio said lightly, and Zevran's eyebrows shot up.

'Would I not end up dead, I'd deliver my own head,' he said. 'But that would normally send apprentices running off to win a bit of glory, but not a man like Niades. He doesn't need that.'

'He does,' Ignacio replied with a pained look on his face. 'There's a price on his head too, the same amount. You understand?'

'He reckons if he brings me dead, he'll be free?' Ignacio nodded. 'Would that work?'

'It might,' Ignacio told him. 'It might work for you as well. Perhaps you should try to kill him first, and I bet you they'll let you return.'

'After Taliesen?' Zevran asked incredulously. 'Never.'

'Taliesen was an ambitious man who liked you too much for his own good, Arainai,' Ignacio said coldly. 'No one misses him, really. But you showed what you're capable of. Do you think it has gone unnoticed that you took part in stopping the blight? Tell them you always intended to return after, you simply saw a danger for Antiva too.'

'That wouldn't be so far from the truth,' Zevran said darkly. 'What will he do if I leave?' Ignacio shrugged.

'Probably nothing,' he said. 'She isn't worth the risk if you're not there.'

'Ignacio … You have seen me leaving Denerim to the west. And you are going to tell that to everyone who will listen, right?' Zevran asked, playing with his dagger. Ignacio nodded hastily. 'Now there's just one thing I need to know. Where is Niades? Not in Antiva, I take it. Denerim?'

'Amaranthine,' Ignacio replied with a wry grin. 'He heard that you would be going there.'

'Then let everyone know that I left for West Hill,' Zevran said. 'Tell them you caught me sneaking out of the city or whatever.' Ignacio blinked at him and nodded again. 'I will know, you're aware of that. And I swear, you will pay if you do not do as I bid.' With that he left the slightly flustered man. He headed back to Denerim as quickly as he could to take his possessions from where he had hidden them and leave on a horse whose owner was probably one of the corpses still piling directly outside the gates, emitting a strong smell of decay that was carried into the city by the wind.

Zevran read the letter he had found in his and Núria's room for the eleventh time now, and it still said the same thing.

The next time the dagger will come before she leaves. After that, it will be you. No one messes with the Crows and lives, Arainai. Consider yourself dead. But first you will watch her go. You shame the House of Crows, and that cannot be tolerated.

Niades had some nerve. This way to act shamed the house of Crows, if anything did! It simply was not the way assassins worked. They didn't pull third parties into business unless they had to, and to kill Núria would not even endear Niades to the Crows. On the contrary, if the Master who'd had the contract on her still had ambitions to finish the job, he would be very angry indeed if Niades did it before him. And warning Zevran that he intended to kill him wasn't exactly wise, either. But this horrible man had always ticked like that. He had no subtlety and Zevran had no idea how he had managed to rise to the rank of a master. Normally those people didn't survive their first job. But what he lacked in style, he had amply in cruelty, and he was feared by many people. Zevran wondered whom Niades had crossed to get a price onto his head. Perhaps Zevran's master? That would make sense, especially killing him would make sense then. But then it would also help with returning to his old life. If his master wanted Niades dead, he could probably return if he killed him.

Zevran closed his eyes and played the scenario through in his head. He would be watched carefully for a time, that much was sure, and if there was any sign of Núria he would have to kill her. But she would go to Vigil's Keep to rebuild her order, and not to Antiva. He simply had to avoid being seen by her. Zevran figured himself in his beautiful Antiva City, at the docks. He pictured Núria leaving a ship in travelling attire, him approaching with a cheerful look on his face, pulling her into an embrace, only to slip a dagger between her ribs. He could see her face, full of shock and sadness, and he shuddered. He had no illusions about this: He would not hurt her. Antiva was out of bounds for good, and the Crows were something he was still glad to consider his past. It wouldn't take him long to find Niades, he hoped, and then he would tell Núria the truth. All would be fine in a short while.

The journey to Amaranthine was far, but all the same he would take a detour to the west in case he was followed. He didn't trust Ignacio and wondered if it hadn't been a mistake to let him live, but he couldn't return. If he was seen by the wrong people he wouldn't be able to do this. He could imagine what Leliana would say to him, and to hear her calling him a faithless traitor was more than he thought he could bear without running back to the palace. Part of him thought that Núria was able to resist attacks very well, but the fact remained that he had not heard anyone sneaking into their room, and he was ready to bet his head that she wouldn't have noticed them either. If anything happened to her because of him, he would never forgive himself.

A nasty voice in Zevran's head pointed out that Núria was unlikely to forgive that he had left her again, which was the one thing she had asked him not to do. He would have to explain everything to her, then perhaps she might. But that was something to be pondered when Niades was out of the way.

There weren't too many who would move against Zevran, and most of those foolish enough would be manageable. But Niades had no conscience. He was cruel and devious, and if Zevran stayed, Núria was as good as dead, no matter what protection they had. If he couldn't just cut her throat in her sleep, he'd poison her or wait for her to be alone for only a moment. No, he had to know that Zevran had fled, only then would he leave her alone. He would send someone looking for him, and Zevran knew how to lay a false trail. His led to West Hill. There he would find people who would swear they had seen him boarding a ship to the Free Marches. Anyone following him could decide whether he was mad enough to return to Antiva, or if he had set out to Tevinter instead.

With his heart bleeding, he chanced a glance back at the walls of Denerim. 'Que te vaya bien, mi amora,' he whispered and turned his mare around. Lifting his right leg to the flank of the animal he spurred her with his left, and she ran off in a swift gallop. The only reason why his eyes were watering was the wind blowing in his face, he told himself.