I don't believe Cyrion ever made it quite clear what Adaia's profession was, just that she was a rogue/warrior, depending on the Tabris's class. So, that leaves it wide open for what she could've been; maybe she was a Crow? And if she was, was it possible that Tabris and Zevran might've met before he tried to kill her? Oh, how I do love these possibilities. Zev did say it was his first time out of Antiva, but I think he could've been lying.
Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age. Or Adaia. Or Tabris. Or Zevran. Or anything cool.
The Crows were not only well known in Antiva; they were well known in Ferelden as well. Master Ignacio, Master Verdas, and others kept Denerim on their toes with their agents and assassins.
One of these great "workers" was Adaia Tabris. She was reliable, as renowned for getting the job done as the Crows themselves were, and skilled.
So, it was natural that her employer, Master Ignacio, attends her funeral.
"Take an apprentice with you, show them some of the consequences of letting even one sign you're there." Said the leader of the Crows, Arevorin. She puffed out a ring of smoke from her tobacco pipe, which Ignacio took as his signal to leave his leader.
Taliesin has already gone to an assassin's funeral. So has Rinna, and Trivas... Hmm...
The apprentices were eleven, which meant that a good half of them were dead. Ignacio, personally, was quite disappointed; majority of the dead apprentices showed damn good skills. The ones left seemed to be the runts of the litter.
Arainai. He has not gone to an assassin's funeral yet. It is his turn. And now that I think about it, it is time he see Ferelden. He'll stay there for a while as well. The middle-aged human decides. Ignacio never truly liked Zevran Arainai. He was not nearly as serious as Rinna or Taliesin were, and did not honor the skill the Crows were teaching him. But, Ignacio has to realize, all apprentices are like that at the beginning. And while he still had a way to go, he was quite good at his training.
Zevran currently resided in a tiny apartment near the center of Antiva City. The journey to Denerim, though, would not be too long, compared to that of the journey to Orlais or Seheron. It only took about a week.
Ignacio knocked on the elf's door. "Boy, come out this minute!" He barked.
Only a few seconds later, the door opened and out came Zevran. He was not as loving over his hair yet, that was obvious. Long and shaggy, it hung around his face in an effortlessly handsome style.
"Yes, Master Ignacio?" Zevran responded politely. Ignacio knew the eleven-year-old apprentice was expecting some harsh mark, and held down a snort with difficulty.
"One of our assassins, Adaia Tabris, is dead. She will be buried at the Denerim Graveyard in Ferelden. You, boy, are to accompany me while I go to her funeral."
This piqued Zevran's interest. "Ferelden? Why such hassle over someone in that disgusting country?" He asked.
"Because," Ignacio growled, "we Crows pay respect to our best assassins. Adaia Tabris died in the line of duty, and I'll sooner eat my own ear than let her be laid to rest without respect from her employers! Do you understand, Arainai?"
Zevran nodded. "Yes, ser!"
Zevran would be lying if he said the trip to Ferelden was interesting. It was bloody boring, with rats scuttling across the ship. Ignacio turned a deaf ear to the apprentice's complaints, infuriating the normally calm apprentice.
Zevran was used to such treatment from his mentors, but Ignacio seemed determined to make the elf's life a living hell. Why was beyond him.
"You're lucky, Arainai." Said Ignacio one morning. "We've arrived in Denerim. But before we leave this bloody ship," he added, as Zevran stood up and leaped to get his few belongings, "we need to get a few things clear. First, you are not to bed any of the nobles' daughters. Anyone else, like an Alienage elf, or a commoner, you may."
"...Bed them...? What does that - oh." Zevran wondered, until he remembered the definition of bedding someone. "I wouldn't! I'm eleven!" Ignacio ignored this comment.
"Second, you are to report back to our inn as soon as the sun sets. We'll be staying here for about a month."
The elf raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Because, Adaia's death isn't my only business here. I also have to handle some of my other workers." Ignacio crossed his arms. Zevran sighed.
"So, you mean to say that I'm going to stay in this flea-ridden country for a month?"
"That's exactly what I mean to say, boy!" Ignacio snapped. "Just think, someday you'll get to do this to your own annoying, blonde, elf apprentice. This is for your experience. Rinna, Taliesin, Evans, and hundreds of other apprentices did this for their masters. This is for you to understand the culture of different countries. This - "
"I get it, Master Ignacio, I get it!" Snapped Zevran. "We've been over your rules a thousand times before."
Ignacio grinned. "Boy, I was teasing you. And your last rule is to stay inside of Denerim at all times."
This somewhat disappointed Zevran. As much as he pretended to hate staying in a different country, he was excited to see a place so different from Antiva. But, he had a notorious reputation for never agreeing with Master Ignacio and annoying him at whatever cost. And Maker help him, he'd sooner die than let that reputation go!
The ship swayed lazily beside the dock, a long piece of wood drawn out from the dock to act as a bridge for the passengers of The Lady's Voyage.
Ignacio pulled his belongings into a sack, swinging it over his shoulder, and hitting Zevran over the head with much care. The elf cursed inaudibly, rubbing his head as he gathered his own clothes and items. One of his most loved possessions was a pair of Dalish gloves, left for him by his mother, Iryndria. He had to make sure that Ignacio or some other Crow master never saw, though, or they'd be taken from him and torn apart in front of his eyes.
Ignacio took the lead, walking onto the dock. One thing Zevran immediately noticed was that Ferelden was much more humid than Antiva. It was raining right now, and the elf's hair was plastered to his face.
"Does it always rain this much in Fereden?" Complained Zevran. Ignacio sighed, not even bothering to hide his hatred for the apprentice. Than again, he never did.
"Majority of the time, yes, Arainai." Grumbled the human assassin. He rubbed his temple and sighed.
"Dear master, I've only been talking for two minutes, and already you grow irritated with me." Grinned Zevran.
"You have a gift, then, for creating a most succesfully annoyed person in an incredibly short amount of time."
Many of the people from the docks glanced at the two speaking in Antivan. This was not past Ignacio.
"Speak in Fereldan, now, boy, or they'll suspect that we're Crows."
"But we are Crows, Master Ignacio."
"And it won't do us any damned favors if they find out!"
Ignacio ended the conversation there, heading to the city.
"Where are you going?" Zevran called after him.
"Business. Go about your own interests boy, but go to the Gnawed Noble Tavern at sunset." Ignacio called back, not even bothering to look back at the confused apprentice.
It was his third day at the capital of Ferelden, and Zevran was intrigued by the way Denerim lived. There were women carrying weapons, and men being merchants. It was the exact opposite in Antiva; the women there were pure, not to be spoiled, and no one would dare dream that they would be seen even holding a dagger. This was an exception with the Crows, of course, but even in public they appeared like any other common woman.
One thing he was not to happy with was the Alienage. It disgusted him that his kind could let themselves live in such terrible treatment. There were Alienages in Antiva, of course, and when he thought about it, there was hardly any difference between the one in Antiva City and the one in Denerim.
" - Come on, cousin! There's some really cool - "
Zevran turned to see two elven girls, both with similar hairstyles. One was taller and had red hair; the other was short and with black hair. The redhead had brown eyes, and the brunette had violet. The redhead was pointing at him.
"Cousin, that's the Antivan I saw earlier!" She whispered, but she must've had a naturally loud voice or something, because it carried over to Zevran.
"Well, if you think he's so cute, you can go over and say hello." Smirked the black-haired girl, eyebrow raised in a questioning position. Zevran chuckled. The redhead blushed, her cheeks as red as her hair.
The brunette snorted at her friend's embarrassment. "If you don't want to say hi, then I will!" She stuck out her tongue at her friend.
"Fine, if you're so cool." The redhead stuck out her tongue, equally immature.
Before he knew it, the girl had walked over to Zevran. "Hi! What's your name?" She asked confidently; the redhead couldn't stop giggling.
"Zevran, Zev to my friends." He said, his voice already smooth with an Antivan accent.
"So, are you new here?" She asked.
"Yes, it is." Zevran replied.
"Well, my cousin and I can show you around Denerim!" The elf girl offered. Zevran smiled.
"Sure!"
"By the way, my name is - "
She was his first - and maybe his only - friend during his childhood. Zevran thought he'd remember her forever.
But right now, he couldn't remember her name, only their games and adventures...
So far, he's quite irritated. These Grey Wardens have yet to arrive, and he just wants this assignment to end... one way or another.
From the distance, a woman and a man seemed to be deep in an arguement. " - shut up! I will run this sword through you, I'm not joking!" The man said angrily.
"Oh, most serious then." Chuckled the woman.
"This discussion is over!"
"Go, Esmerel." Zevran whispered to his mage, then signaling to the rest of his group to take their hiding positions.
"Oh, thank the Maker! They came and overtook the wagon - please help!"
Sounds of running came closer, and at last the Grey Wardens came into view. The only male there had blondish-brown hair, so he had to assume that was the one in that arguement. One of the women had black hair, and wore robes that barely covered her chest. The other one had orange-red hair, and a concerned look over her face.
At the lead of the group was an elven woman, with small black ponytails around her head and a set of violet eyes... Where have I...? No. Time to get to work. He signaled for his group to show themselves and their weapons. "The Grey Warden dies here!" He shouted as a tree fell, nearly crushing the elf. She dodged it with easy grace, unsheathing her blades and meeting Zevran in battle.
The upperhand seemed to switch between them, sometimes it being Zevran, and at others it was the elf woman. He, however, did not see it coming when she rendered him unconscious with a strike of her blade pommel.
"Oh... what? I... Oh."
The woman stood in front of him with her arms crossed, eyebrow raised in a questioning position. "Talk."
"Ah! So I'm to be interrogated, then? Let me save you some time. My name is Zevran. Zev to my friends."
He answered her questions, and took great pleasure in the blush that appeared on her face when he commented that she was utterly gorgeous.
"Very well. I accept your offer." She said, lifting Zevran's hand up and tying his hands together.
"I am your man. This I swear." He vowed. "By the way, what is your name? Loghain never mentioned."
The elf woman turned back. "Faith."
"Favorite color?" the girl asked.
The two were sitting outside the Chantry garden. The redhead had left a while ago to see her brother, leaving the girl and Zevran to get to know each other for a while.
"Hmm... green, right now." The elf answered. "Yours?"
"Purple!" She replied. Zevran thought she would say that, looking at her violet eyes. "I wish I could have a purple dress, instead of these gross gray ones."
Zevran shrugged. "Clothes are clothes. I think your wanting for a purple dress, though, is pretty small compared to Orlais."
She laughed. "True. One of my friends in the Alienage is from Orlais, and she's always pretty - " Her voice lowered, her eyes lit with mischeif, "pissed - " She giggled at using the word, "that we always get these rags."
"Well, I guess I would be too, if I lived in an Alienage." said Zevran. Faith looked confused.
"You don't live in an Alienage? Are you Dalish?" She didn't look like she believed the Dalish could exist, though.
"No, I don't. I'm proud of it, too!" Said the apprentice happily.
"Where do you live, then?" She asked again.
"I'm an - " Zevran stopped suddenly, remembering that Ignacio told him not to tell anyone that he was a Crow. " - an apprentice! For, err, the, umm, White Doves!"
She raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. "Soooo... umm.... favorite.... animal?"
"Hmm... I guess my favorite animal... is a... huh. Never really thought about it before. I guess a cat, because they're really sneaky!"
She giggled. "Mine's a cat, too!"
The elves laughed, asking each other more questions as they sat in the sun.
"So, Zevran... favorite color?" Faith Tabris asked as the sat by the fire, looking at the moon.
"Yellow." He replied. "Yours?"
"Purple!" said the elf. "When I was a little girl, I always wanted to have a purple dress, but it was pretty small compared to an Orlesian elf in the Alienage. She was soddin' pissed that we Fereldan elves had such stupid clothes."
"Ah, those Orlesians. I met a very lovely looking one on a trip outside of Antiva City once - "
"Zevran! Naughty boy!" Faith laughed, her face in a mocking disapproving position. "Okay... favorite animal?"
"Is an Antivan prostitute an answer? Because most of the time, they are very - " Zevran smirked while Faith snorted in amusement. "Hmm... I've only thought about it once. I said cat. I guess that will do."
"Coincidence enough, cats are my favorite animal too." Her Mabari, Barkspawn, whined unhappily. "Oh, I mean Mabari!" Barkspawn licked Faith's face.
Zevarn chuckled. "So, you grew up in the Alienage?"
"I did." Faith answered. "It was hard, but I had family and friends there, so it wasn't as terrible as others would think."
"Ah. I grew up in a whorehouse, until I was purchased by the Crows. For three soveirgns, or so I'm told. Which is a good price, considering I was rib and bone and didn't know the pommel of a dagger from the pointy end."
"Do the Crows get all of their workers that way?" Faith asked.
"The Crows buy all of their assassins that way, yes, buy them young and train them to know nothing but murder." Zevran answered.
"Hmm..." She looked to be considering that lifestyle. "That's an interesting way to run a place, for sure."
The two continued to talk, until Faith finally yawned and left to her tent for the night.
"Zev, look at what I found!" Said the girl excitedly, holding up a pouch of silvers.
"Wow! Where'd you get those?" Asked Zevran, brushing the blonde hair from his face to take a better look. He'd have to cut his hair sometime...
"My cousin found them! She had a whole bag of them, and she gave me this little pouch!" Zevran raised an eyebrow.
"Where'd she get a whole bag of silvers?" She shrugged.
"I dunno. Let's go buy some sweets or something!" she said, changing the subject. She was acting as though this was the first time she had more than a few bits - which, Zevran considered, was probably true.
"Okay!" He agreed, smiling happily and walking off with his friend. The two were just outside the sweetshop when her cousin came running out of nowhere, the bag of silvers in her hand.
"Thief! Get back here!" One of them shouted.
"What're you - " Zevran was cut off as she picked up a very large and heavy brick. She threw it at the guard's head with surprising accuracy, rendering him unconscious.
"What the sod - " The rest of their group turned to see the angry little elf girl, her arms crossed in anger. '
"Leave Shianni alone, you big bullies!" She yelled, turning and running. "Come on, Zev! There coming for us next!"
"You idiot!" Said Zevran, but did as she said and ran. The distraction enabled Shianni to run away from the angry guards. With the thief gone and a girl who knocked out a guard in site, the fools chose to chase the girl and Zevran next.
"Quick, this way!" Whispered the girl, turning suddenly and hiding in a smelly alley.
"What were you thinking?" Zevran whispered in irritation.
"That guard I threw the brick at is the same guy who killed my mom! He was going to kill my cousin! I couldn't let that happen!" She answered.
"Oh..." Said Zevran slowly as her purple eyes turned wide and sad. "I'm sorry I brought it up - "
"Don't worry about it." She whimpered. Then, without warning, she hugged Zevran tightly. The eleven-year-old apprentice was caught off guard, and had no idea what to do. He simply kept patting her back as she started to cry.
"It was t-terrible! He called her a b-bad word, and then he k-killed her!"
It was one of many moments where Zevran regretted being an assassin, at least until he became twelve. Then, he honored his training. He forgot about regret. He did remember, though, that an old friend knew what regret was, and how it felt. Soon, he forgot about her, too.
"Jackpot!" Faith hummed happily, a pile of gleaming silver bars in her arms. Zevran raised an eyebrow.
"Faith, have you been stealing again?" He asked, half amused. She grinned mischieviously.
"It's from Arl Howe, so it doesn't count!" Faith protested. Zevran laughed.
"Well, I cannot argue with that logic." The elf grinned.
"Shall we go spend our new-found fortune?" She asked.
"Why, let us do so." Zevran agreed.
"Good, because I could definetely use some sweets right now."
"Couldn't we all." The assassin muttered, earning a jab in the ribs.
The two went on their way to the sweetshop when a clad of heavy metal followed them.
"Thief!"
"Oh sod." Whispered Faith, breaking into a sprint. Zevran had no choice but to follow the lovely elf.
"What in the Maker's name were you thinking?!" He demanded. Faith said nothing, but grabbed his wrist and hid in a nearby alley.
"I couldn't help myself. Arl Howe is a bastard who deserves to have his guards killed and silvers stolen." Faith hissed. A mad grin came onto her face. "That bastard that killed my mother deserved it more."
"I wasn't aware that you were an orphan." Said Zevran in surprise.
"Oh, I'm not." She dismissed. "My dad's alive. My mom's dead."
Faith didn't cry anymore; that was for eleven-year-old girls. But she grew silent, and the assassin simply patted her on the back until she spoke again.
"We... we ought to leave, soon."
Zevran couldn't agree more. For the first time in ten years, he remembered just what regret was.
"That son of a - "
"Zevran! That's a bad word!"
"Sorry."
The girl was inside her kitchen putting together some sandwiches while her father was at work.
"What's wrong, Zev?" The girl asked, analyzing the glare on Zevran's face.
"Ignacio happened." He growled. "He found my mom's gloves. Ripped em' apart right in front of me." She gasped.
"Zev, I'm so sorry!" She said sadly, for she knew just how much her friend loved those gloves.
"It's not your fault." Zevran smiled sadly. "But that stupid old man won't get away with this." His face lit up. "Let's run away!"
"What?!"
"Think about it!" Said Zevran excitedly. "We'll run away, and go see the Circle Tower, and the Dalish elves, and Orzammar!"
"Zev, I dunno..."
"Ignacio'll never be able to hurt me again, and you won't live in this stupid Alienage!" He tugged on the girl's sleeve. "Let's do it!"
She pushed his arm away gently. "I can't! Zevran, you're my best friend, but I can't run away from my daddy!"
Zevran glared for a minute, than sighed. "Well, I couldn't either if I had a family." His face lit up. "I'll just stay here forever and ever! I'll never go back to Antiva! Never!"
"You'll have to go back someday, Zev! Your mom and dad will get worried!"
"What mom and dad? I'm an orphan, my friend." She blinked blinked.
"Have you ever been happy?"
He really had to think about that question.
"I know little of the Dalish, apart from the fact that my mother was one. She was quite loyal to her Clan, until she fell in love with an elven woodcutter and left for the city. There, the woodcutter died of some filthy disease and my mother was forced into prostitution to pay off his debts. Oldest tale in the book."
Faith smiled sadly. "Zev, I'm so sorry."
"All I had of her was a pair of Dalish gloves. Lovely, soft things. But then my old Master Ignacio found them and tore them apart."
Faith blinked. "Dalish gloves? Hold on a minute..." She dug in her pack for a moment, until she pulled out a pair of Dalish gloves. "Like these?"
"Just like those!" Said Zevran happily. "My mother's were less thick and had more embroidery, but these are quite close." He paused, then added. "Thank you, my dear."
Faith smiled. "You're quite welcome."
"You know... this Blight, it's kind of the equivalent of running away, isn't it?" Zevran wondered. "Here you are, away from the Alienage, and here am I, running from the Crows."
"I guess you could say that, Zev." Faith tilted her head to the side. "That's an interesting way to put it."
"I wanted to run away, once." Said Zevran. "To just leave the Crows, get away from their orders. I did, for a while."
"You ran away from Antiva?"
"No, just from the Crows. I joined a wandering Dalish Clan that was just outside the city. But, the reality didn't live up to all of those fantasies that I made, staring at those gloves." Replied Zevran. "But I did enjoy the freedom."
Faith grinned. "Has there been no joy in your life at all?"
Zevran laughed, but he recalled that he only ever thought of this once before. Once.
"Adaia Tabris was a fine woman, who had friends, family, and love, despite the way she lived. In the hardest times of her life, she had her family there to help her, a daughter and a husband."
Zevran never knew Adaia Tabris, but apparently she hailed from Antiva and migrated to Ferelden, as the Antivan Crows wished to spread their power.
The woman, Adaia Tabris, was lying in her coffin, her eyes closed, wounds sealed, and armor replaced with lovely clothes. Flowers were scattered around her head. Clearly, the best funeral an Alienage elf ever had.
"Bow your head, boy!" Ignacio hissed in Antivan. Zevran glared before dipping his head, keeping it forced down.
"Her daughter was named - " Zevran didn't pay any attention, though - he was too busy thinking up some terrible way to slaughter Ignacio.
"Zevran? What're you doing here?"
The apprentice turned to see the girl, her violet eyes wide in surprise. "What're you doing here?"
She blinked. "Adaia Tabris is - was - my mother."
It made sense. The alikeness of the two, the way she hailed from the Alienage, her sometimes assassin-like behavior, the guard that killed her mother... It made sense.
Faith stood outside her mother's grave, placing a bouquet of roses on the soil.
"May you rest in peace, mother dear." She whispered, a tear sliding down her face. Zevran placed his hand on her shoulder.
"I am sorry for your mother, my dear." He whispered, not trying to seduce Faith, or to end up bedding her... just to comfort her.
"Her name was Adaia Tabris." Faith replied, her voice ragged.
The memories came back; hours under the sun, asking question, planning to run away, hiding from guards, and attending the funeral of Adaia Tabris, with a girl whose name he couldn't remember...
"It was you." He whispered.
"I'm sorry?" Asked Faith, her head tilted to the side.
"When I was eleven, I came to Denerim for Adaia Tabris's funeral. I stayed there for a month, and met a good friend whose name I can't remember. I do know that she was Adaia Tabris's daughter."
Faith's eyes widened in surprise. "I remember an Antivan that came to the city, for my mother's funeral. I couldn't remember his name... it was ten years ago..."
"It was you?!" They both said at the same time. Now, all he wanted was for those childhood days back, with a girl he was such good friends with, and even had a crush on for a while.
"I can't believe it!" Faith said in shock, but she smiled. "You said we'd go to the Circle Tower, and Orzammar, and the Dalish elves..."
"Fate's such a tricky whore, isn't she?" Zevran smiled.
Things were so simple when they were children. But now, Zevran was happy to be with the girl, as she caught him by surprise by placing a kiss on his lips.
The girl, he now remembered, was Faith Tabris.
This has to be my favorite story of mine right now. Took me quite a while to write, I'm very proud. And who's to say Zev wasn't lying when he said this was his first time out of Antiva?
~AerisSerris