-1Author's Note: I've always found Adaia kind of interesting and pondered how the city elves mother may have died. And what kind of effect it had on her as a warden since I like to make decisions based on my origin :P. But yes, here's a Zev x Tabris on both the death of Connor(little abomination boy of Eamon's) and the underlying circumstances involving Adaia Tabris.

Perhaps one of these days I'll write a happy DAO drabble. But I think not…

"I miss thee, my Mother! Thy image is still

The deepest impressed on my heart." ~ Eliza Cook

"I didn't enjoy it, Alistair." Evaine bit a whole in her lip, feeling the blood trickle down her chin. What does he think I am? Some sort of heartless murderer? The child was an abomination… She hadn't expected Alistair, of all people, to take it this way. She hadn't exactly thought that support in her decision to kill the boy would abound and it hadn't, Sten's awkward shoulder pat notwithstanding. But for Alistair to treat her as though she was some pointy eared demon herself, delighting in the fact that she'd had to crush the arlessa's soul and slit the throat of an innocent and unconscious boy was intolerable.

"You just-there had to be another way! There had to! You should have let Isolde sacrifice herself-"

"And then what? Leave Redcliffe with only one possible ruler who might not even recover and a son who has to live forever with the guilt of knowing that she killed her own mother?" She snarled back, her hand's fisting in the studded leather gloves as she fought the irrational urge to hit him, to sock this smug human in his blunted jaw.

"Bann Teagan could have-" Alistair stumbled over what he was going to say, his angry expression changing to one of startled realisation. "Wait…you just said she-?"

"Shut up, Alistair. I made a decision. Everybody makes decisions and that was the one I made because I'm in charge because you don't have the brains you were born with, you witless, worthless human!" He reached for her and she dodged backwards, furious beyond words and trying to wick the tears out of her eyes only to rub dried blood from her gloves into them. Connor's blood.

She ripped off the gauntlet and flung it into the fire, startling a moping Leliana, her throat closing with the sobs that threatened to burst from her lips. And it was just as much self-loathing as it was guilt…which made it worse. She tore at the straps on her side, ripping off the armor right there in the middle of camp and flinging it all on the fire. The animal hide and the metal studs and all of the blood that had spurted from the innocent boy's little throat and spattered her-blood and tears and sweat-all of it up in flames. She was halfway out of her mother's boots before she realized what she was doing and clutched them to her chest, stepping back out of the circle of the fire with the only earthly possessions that were truly cherished pressed against her frantically thumping heart. Someone reached for her elbows and she struck out angrily, ignoring the cry of pain and surprise that emanated from behind her as she stormed across camp.

Oghren burped and wiped the back of his hand across his beard, calmly holding out a bottle of amber liquid to her as she passed. She snatched it, sinking her teeth into the cork and letting the sounds of Alistair's smart-arsed protest fade amidst the sound of the crickets and peepers. The alcohol burned all the way down her throat as she guzzled a few swallows, the tears spilling down her cheeks.

She reached the very edge of camp at about three hundred or so paces into the woods, collapsing to her knees in the gravel shore of the brook. She ignored the cold water welling around her knees and toes, snatched the bottle and took another swig, choking as the drink burned hotter and some sprayed out her nose. The two swallows alone were dizzying and she listed to the side before plunging her head under the cold water with a savage shriek. She skinned her nose on a rock and spluttered to the surface. Setting the bottle down, she clawed at the pebbles beneath her hands, ripping through them and flinging them over her shoulder. She dug her fingernails into the flesh at the back of her neck until warm blood stained the damp grit that clung to her skin.

He's right, Creator above, what have I done? She dug her fingernails deeper into the tiny wounds, wanting to tear the flesh from her spine and punish herself. Nothing could be more wrong than what she'd done, nothing. Isolde had begged her to kill her instead and she hadn't…she couldn't. Because it wasn't right to leave your child with only one heartbroken parent. It was selfish-no, she was selfish. It wasn't about you, it wasn't about your mother, you silly fool! Evaine screamed again, a sound of rage and hatred and bitter, bitter sorrow. She tore at the gravel, trying to dig a hole with her bare hands only for the water to rush in and fill it with stray sand. A never-ending battle, a hopeless task…endless, interminable guilt.

"Stop. No, no." The smooth accent clucked gently, and surprisingly warm, dry fingers wrapped around her wrists. "Calm-"

Evaine kicked off the bed of the stream with her bare feet, sharp rocks grinding into their soles as she lashed out against her captor's grip, flinging a fistful of rocks that went wide of their mark. She slammed back into Zevran's chest with all the force she could muster, trying to fling him off, to attack him, to channel all of her anger into getting away. His hands tightened from a gentle grasp to a death grip on her wrists as he lost his footing but turned her grief driven assault into a clean somersault that rolled her back with him and ended with him pinning her to the dirt. She tried to get her legs up to her chest to gain momentum but was too slow, he wrapped his own around her waist and over hers. She arched her back and sent an ache racing through her shoulder blades as he pinned her wrists to the small of her back.

"Get off of me! Get the hell off of me before I…before I-" And she was sobbing, her head hanging between her shoulders and her wet hair plastered to her forehead, the tidy bun half unraveled down one shoulder. She was exhausted and tired and she didn't even have the effort to fight him. "Let me go, Zevran. Please."

"Only if you promise me you will not-"

"Get off me now." She twisted, tried to writhe out of his grasp. But it was fruitless…he was simply too strong for her.

"Shush, shush. Come now, will you give that Alistair the satisfaction of knowing he riled you up like this, my beauty?" Evaine strained once and then collapsed into his hold, exhausted. Her sobs cut harsh, sharp sounds through the muted burbling of the stream; pathetic and childish in their cadence and rhythm.

"I shouldn't have done it. I killed a little boy, Zevran. And his mother wanted to save him and I just couldn't let her do that, not again-" The drink was making her babble and she felt him shift slightly, his lips pressed into her damp hair.

"Again? What do you mean?"

"No…I can't…it doesn't-! I know, it's not the same, it wasn't the same, I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have been where I was, I should have listened. Why cant I listen?" She had the use of her hands back and she buried them in her hair, clutching at her temples and biting her lip against the panic. "She…it was all my fault. My mother died and it was all my fault."

"Wait. I thought this was about the boy?"

"Connor, it is about Connor. He had a demon and we could have got it out with blood magic but I didn't-" She stopped, unable to continue.

"You would have had to kill the boy's mother for this magic?" She nodded miserably, sinking into his embrace and shaking her head violently from side to side. Zevran was quiet and in the silence, she trembled with fear for what he would say.

"Some things, my Warden, just are. They are neither right nor wrong. The decision to kill is not an easy one and it is made worse when fools like Alistair criticize others for decisions that they themselves are not brave enough to make. He would have been just as angry had you killed the mother-" At the word mother, she broke down, her torn and bloodied fingernails clutching convulsively at loose pebbles. "Shush now, do not cry."

It took her a few moments before she could dry her eyes in earnest and tell him the story, trying to ignore the niggling pain of the grit under her nails and the thousand tiny stinging cuts that now traced her palms and soles. She didn't tell anyone the story, she hadn't even told her father the whole story. She didn't like being pitied, precisely because she didn't deserve it . Because it was all her fault, all over again…

A tiny elf girl, her bony knees tucked up close into the hollow formed between her prominent ribcage and hips, crouched amid the squalor of the Denerim alienage. With hollow green eyes she watched the humans enter, a ragtag bunch of men clearly coming from the nearest tavern. They swaggered around splashing heedlessly through the puddles of filth and offal that lay in the square. She was so focused on the intruders that the leather ball Shianni tossed towards her nailed her in the side of the head.

"Evai? I'm sorry! Are you alright, I thought you'd-" Shianni squealed, her red pigtails bouncing around her ear tips. Evaine grabs her cousin by the wrist as she attempts to help her to her feet, pressing a finger to her lips and pointing to the men, who are making their way towards the child's game.

"Shianni? Evai? What is it?" Soris stops, holding the ball at his hip.

"We should go, get Lehta inside quick." Shianni speaks, her voice betraying her fear. Soris drops the ball and grabs his three year old sister from where she sits under the shade of the Vhenadahl, snatching the threadbare blanket she was nestled in and walking quickly to the house.

"Come on, Evai. Let's get out of here-"

"No, they shouldn't be in our alienage. Why isn't anyone doing anything?" She snapped at her cousin, glaring at the men as they leered at a young elf a few year's her senior. The young woman looked away in horror, rushing inside her shack and shutting the door behind her.

"Where's mother? She'd do something about them."

Her mother was renowned for her skills as a rogue, her thievery was what kept families who were struggling to make ends meet alive in the alienage. Adaia could have kept the coin and supplies she was able to steal for herself, but she didn't. She shared her spoils and kept everyone alive. But she wouldn't have to steal, Evailain wouldn't have to cherish her one meal a day, none of them would have to live in filth if it wasn't for the dirty shems staggering around the alienage with fat coin purses clinking at their hips.

"Evai-"

"Go hide, Shianni. Quick! I'm right behind you."

Getting behind the men had been easy, their senses were too dull to notice her hiding in the shadows. She was brave enough, clever enough. Her mother would be so proud when she brought them the coin, the sovereigns in each man's purse could keep a family fed through a winter. It was a simple matter of reaching out and-

"Oi! This little knife-ears a thief!" She felt herself bodily lifted off the ground by a man with two knives strapped to his shoulders and flung down on the cobbles with enough force to knock the breath from her lungs. The man lifted his foot and slammed it into her chest with rib-breaking force. She screamed and coiled up around his boot in agony. A second kick to the side of her face and then a third to her belly. Her blood painted the sun-lit stones and caked the grime…her chest hurt horribly when she tried to breathe- suddenly, the man prepared to kick her again fell on her instead.

Evaine gasped and squirmed out from under the man's dead body, staring at the throwing knife lodged in his skull in horror. Her mother was there, standing over her with a snarl on her face and her twin blades out; the buttery leather of her infamous 'squeakless' boots gleaming tawny in the mid-day sun.

"Get away from my child, human trash." With Adaia's threatening words, the fight began. Evaine managed to crawl away, hide between the roots of Vhenadahl. She watched her mother fight like she was dancing, each swipe of her blades well placed and every dodge perfectly timed. She killed the second man within seconds, the third took a moment but she was able to sweep around and flank the clumsy warrior with ease. It was beautiful and it was amazing and it was horrible.

The last man of the seven fell in the mud with a squelching thump. Adaia stumbled slightly, clutching at her side and panting. Her pale skin gleamed with a sheen of sweat and blood, her dark red hair escaping it's bun in wild strands. She stepped back from the last body stiffly, rubbing the back of her hand across her mouth sloppily and wincing, a small sound of pain escaping her lips. With a huff she dropped one blade and approached Evaine's hiding place, her expression stern.

"Evaine Tabris, come here." Evaine emerged, overjoyed with her mother's victory. She'd been silly to think that her mother-the invincible hero of the alienage-could get even a scratch in something so little as a skirmish. She ran to hug her mother but instead got a smart, backhanded slap to the side of the face.

"Never steal from another rogue unless their dead and you've stabbed them a few times to make completely sure. Rookie mistake, little one. Are you alright?" Evaine nodded at her mother, pressing one hand to her flushed and stinging cheek. Adaia smiled down at her then, but it was a smile that didn't quite make it to her eyes.

"Oh Adaia! Thank the Maker you're alright!" Dilwyn came tottering down the steps of her shack, reaching for her friend. The rogue waves away the gesture, favoring her left side but kneeling stiffly and taking Evaine's hands in her own. Father is rushing to them, out from whatever rock he was hiding under.

Something is wrong. She knows her mother should be much angrier than she is, after all, they could both have been killed. But her mother is still wearing that oddly sad smile, one corner of her lips turned down in pain. One delicate, shaking hand covers Evaine's and rest's it's cool fingertips against her temple. She presses her lips to her daughter's forehead in a quick kiss, making the 'mwaa' sound effect intended to coax a giggle from Evaine's suddenly closed throat.

"Mamae-"

"Ah uh, listen. I love you and your father very much. You have to promise to take care of him for me, alright? And not to go out of your way to stir up trouble. Protect Shianni and Soris and everyone, can you do that? Can you?" Adaia shook her daughter a little for emphasis, her crystal blue eyes gleaming in the light.

"I promise."

"That's my girl. You're going to grow up and make me proud." Adaia rose to her feet shakily, her entire body trembling and the smile on her lips faltering as she straightened; her left arm pressed into her side tightly.

"Where are you going? Mother-?"

"Shush, love. I'm staying right here. With you…forever…" Then Adaia listed sideways and fell, finally displaying the bloody scratch in her side. Just a scratch…and yet it's edges were frothed with poison.

"Adaia! Quick, someone fetch Valendrian!" Adaia grabbed her husbands tunic, dragging him down to kneel beside her. She whispered something Evaine couldn't hear from where she stood, frozen over her mother's prone form. Dilwyn was trying to lead her away, Shianni tugging at her elbow.

"Mamae! Mother!" Adaia's wrist went limp in Valendrian's grip, her father's wail joined the sounds of grief that reverberated through the alienage like the lonely howls of a pack of wolves. But no expression of pain, no amount of tears and rocking and begging could bring her back. Adaia was gone forever…

"…and it was all my fault. She died for me, because of something foolish that I did. I know I shouldn't dwell on it, that I shouldn't care. It was years ago but I…I failed. And then again, just before Duncan recruited me. With Shianni. And now with Connor and Isolde. I just-" Evaine let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Oh Creator, I'm a terrible Warden! A great and noble defender of Fereldan, right! One who goes around murdering innocents because she cant tell her arse from her elbow-"

"Warden, forgive me if I am wrong, but I fail to see how any of this was your fault. The boy became a demon because his mother wished to hide his nature from the circle and thusly hired an assassin who in a strangely confusing turn of events, ended up being responsible for the boy invoking the creature in the first place. Isolde is at fault, in all of this. I know little of what happened in the alienage and the rest I can fill in on my own. Your mother…" Zevran paused here, biting his lips. "Eh…I suppose it would not do to tell you that I killed my mother?"

"What?" She sniffed and rubbed her nose, glancing up at him wearily.

"Merely by being born at all. She died in childbirth. Do not look so sad, little Warden. It was a long time ago. It happened, it was terrible. Forget about it." Evaine looked like she was about to protest and he held up a hand. "No, no. I know 'tis different, you knew your mother and looked up to her. But if you dwell, you will never overcome this and the blight. And if you think Alistair is going to be able to do it by himself well, you are mistaken."

"I'm sure there will be more opportunities for me to royally fuck up in the future." She half-smiled, choking a little on tears she wasn't shedding.

"That's the spirit! Now, speaking of making love-"

"Zevran." The edge of shaky but definite warning to her tone was unmistakable.

"Ah, too early to joke about such matters?" She nodded wearily into his shoulder, her eyelids drooping despite herself.

"I want a bath and then I just want to go to bed. To sleep. The oblivious kind of sleep…"

He stripped off her under tunic and helped her step out of her breeches, tossing the blood sodden cloth off to the side. Maybe she would want to wash it. He thought it more likely she'd want to burn it like the armor. He helped her stumble into a deeper part of the stream, stopped her from clawing her skin off in an attempt to rid it of imagined blood stains. Ran his fingers through her hair until the water ran clear instead of rust-tinged. Gently chipped away at the stubborn dried blood in her pointed ears. Let the moonlight and the fresh flowing water cleanse everything away from both skin and soul.

Author's End Note: Wrote it on a whim and can never seem to end my drabbles properly. :/ But I liked the idea of writing something that tells how Adaia died, since there are no codex entries to that effect and this came to me as I was playing through and getting bitched out by Alistair. I ended it here in the interest of a nice, pretty ending. But there is a section where Zev gets back to camp and Alistair bitches and whines and Morrigan, Sten and Zev are very stfu to him. I enjoyed taking Alistair down a notch, especially since I can never seemed to befriend him without selling out all my principles(or lack there of). Give a review, pwetty please? XD