"So, a human, an elf, and a dwarf are walking down a trail beside a stream, and they stop to take a piss." Zevran righted his mount to walk alongside hers.

"You told me this one, Zev. Throughout the entire joke, I was fixated on the relevance of your specifying 'a trail beside a stream.'"

"Joke immersion? I was setting up the scene." He shrugged, seeing an example of his Nyla's brain at work, he was not surprised, and it was endearing.

"Joke immersion!" Nyla cackled, snorted, and sighed, shaking her head. "Tell me a different one, my awe inspiring bard."

"The young chantry sister innocently asks the Revered Mother 'What's a blow job?' The Reverend Mother replies, 'Twenty gold, same as in town."

"Ohhh no!" Nyla began with a chuckle, intensity building until she doubled over with peals of laughter, eventually reduced to snorts as she clutched at her armored belly. Horse huffed with agitation at her movement. Satisfied Zevran wore an impish grin, having achieved his daily goal of seeing her laughter reduced to snorts.

Breathing deeply, calming from raucous laughter, Nyla wiped a tear from the corner of her eye with a gloved knuckle. "You know, Zev… I like those tight leather pants on you. They remind me of a cheap inn."

He didn't know where she was going with this one, but he was intrigued. "Oh yes? Why a cheap inn?"

"Because-" She stifled laughter and pursed her lips for a moment. "There's no ballroom."

"Nyla!" He cackled, reaching over to her and batting playfully with both hands. How had he not heard that one before? "There is plenty of ball room in my tight pants, shall I show you?"

"You showed me earlier!" She leaned away from his playful pawing, grinning ear to ear, chuckles bubbling through her chest. "It wasn't a joke at your balls or your pants, it was a joke about cheap inns, I swear it!"

"There are few things in life more dangerous than joking about a former Crow's testicles, Nyla. We are a very insecure establishment! Braska!" With swift movements and a firm grab he caught her forearm and pulled her. "Both feet in stirrups helps keeps your ass in the saddle."

"A stirrup almost killed me at one point, if you recall." She pouted in embarrassment and slid her feet back into them.

"Yes, amor, of course I recall. I am the only one who recalls, if you recall." He quirked an eyebrow at her, "And perhaps it may not have happened if you had both feet in the stirrups."

"They were! Probably were. Just... stop this. I'm just... I'm not fucking inept. I did not learn to ride with a saddle! It was never my preference to have one."

"Ooh, Warden is feisty. Almost time for her moon." He meant it in kind understanding, but it didn't land as such. Quick to anger, easy to hurt, less likely to take things in stride, Zevran still loved his Warden, as always.

"You would know, you're the one who counts the days until the next dry spell." Fuming, she pursed her lips and looked ahead. "And you don't get to dismiss my feelings because of my approaching moon."

"Zevran has no qualms with a dry spell. Dry spell begins day after tomorrow." Zevran smiled; her mouth in a cute, frustrated pout, he wanted to kiss her. "I never dismiss your feelings, I just have to be mindful of how I treat you."

"So you're walking on eggshells," she shook her head with a frustrated tsk.

"Si." He nodded, tilting his head at her. "Te amo, Nyla. Zevran does not mind."

"Te amo. I believe you." Nyla melted and looked at him, adoration in Zevran's gaze, as always. "I have been gone five months, and I didn't tell anyone I was leaving. This might be a bit of a mess."

"That is a very un-Nyla thing for Nyla to do." He looked at her questioningly.

With a soft smile and downcast eyes she spoke, "I had no intent to return."

Dismounting in front of the stables, they handed off their reins to the horsemaster. Zevran enjoyed how tall she walked as they entered Vigil's Keep, recruits nodding to her with a muttered 'Commander' and a salute. She acknowledged them each by name, and Zevran thought it a very Nyla way to be. He enjoyed seeing her this way. Strutting with head high, her voice deepened, she sounded more her. More… noble. He also felt special; Nyla did not speak to others in the tone she used for him. Zevran followed her to an office. Very tidy, organized, a man sitting straight-backed behind a desk.

"Constable Howe." Nyla spoke professionally. "Anything to report?"

"Commander where have you been?" He stood and saluted her. "You look well! New recruit?" He looked the intimidating elf over, sizing him up with a furrowed brow.

"I have been busy, Nathaniel. This is Zevran Arainai. He is not a recruit, he is my partner." With a pointed glare, she enunciated, "Not a recruit."

"The Zevran who fought by your side during the blight?" Nathaniel extended a hand. "Warden-Constable Nathaniel Howe."

"He's my second, Zevran." Nyla could feel the tension building as Zevran refused his hand. "Está a salvo. Es mi amigo." He is safe. He is a friend of mine.

Nathaniel, professional as always, held eye contact with the assassin, until Zevran met his hand with a firm grasp.

While Zevran trusted his Warden, he harbored too much anger to call this man a friend. Nyla may have forgiven him, but he could not deny the sparks of anger he felt at imagining her tears, the nightmares that plagued her, the way she still ached over her young nephew Oren… Nathaniel could never know what that did to her, and Zevran wanted him to.

Nyla could see the tension between them, and it wasn't her problem. "Alright. Report, Nathaniel."

Nathaniel chuckled and smirked, raising an eyebrow, "I haven't committed the last five months to memory, Commander, please reference the high stack of parchments on your desk. More importantly, given that you went missing in action, the High Constable is here."

"Ah, shit." Nyla bit her lip with an irritated sigh, her hands rested on her hips. "He's going to fuck with me, I just know it. I wish I had more women above me." She heard a breathy chuckle and glared at Zevran, "Ni se te ocurra." Don't you dare.

"Jamás se me ocurriría hacer algo así, mi amore." I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing. He spoke jovially with a smirk. Yes, he found what she said to be hilarious, and a chuckle snuck up on him, and she walked right into it… but he would not intentionally, blatantly disrespect her in front of her comrades. He flashed his canines at Nathaniel, and the man postured; Zevran found him to be predictable.

"Right. Well, I'm going to go find the High-Fucking-Constable." She paused, "Both of you wait here." Taking a moment to meet Zevran's gaze, the corner of her mouth twitching, she winked, "Se agradable, mi amore." Be nice, my love before turning and leaving the room. The tension between the men was palpable, but they were both good men; they simply needed a moment to work their shit out.

Zevran leaned against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, glaring at Howe.

"So, companion to the Commander again?" Nathaniel sat at his desk and leaned on his elbows.

"Let us just say, she is not keeping me around for my lockpicking skills," Zevran asserted with a wry grin. "And I find it hard not to resent you for what your house did to her."

"The Howes are pariahs now-"

Zevran strode to his desk, laying his palms flat on its surface. Leaning in, he snarled bitterly, "The Couslands are dead."

Nathaniel had no reply, only stared at him patiently for the expected onslaught. As if he hadn't heard it a hundred times before. As if he hadn't been atoning for his father's actions since they occurred. Zevran continued his embittered rant.

"You have not seen her suffering. Family torn from her, betrayed by one trusted, one they called friend. Sold to the Wardens to survive your father's men, she lost her life, and horrors forced upon her, Howe. You should thank the Maker you get to be pariah, and not dead."

"I am aware of what happened. Had I known what my father planned, I would have done everything in my power to stop it. She was not the only one ruined by my house." Nathaniel leaned back in his chair to put distance between them. His voice softened, and Zevran could hear the undertones of remorse; exactly what Zevran needed to hear. "The commander and I have spoken about this at great length, and I am glad I'm not the one she trusts enough to let see her suffering."

"Because it is too akin to your own?" Zevran relaxed and backed away, gaze never leaving his.

Nathaniel tilted his head at Zevran, misery behind his eyes, "Yes."

"I can relate." Zevran sighed and sat in a chair near his desk. "You're not so bad. Thank you for your patience." He relaxed, an ankle resting on his knee, hands laced together and resting on his stomach. "So how's the Wardening, Howe?"

"Good!" He nodded, capping his inkwell, glad that was out of the way. Nathaniel had a great deal of respect for the elf, despite the remaining tension. Having received his message, do not fuck with her, Nathaniel only felt relief in knowing someone had her back. "Ever thought of becoming one? Maker knows you have spent enough time with them."

"I have thought about it. Though, it doesn't occur that my lady would appreciate such a thing. That, and I cannot see any real benefit at this point, as we are currently blightless."

"Well, I am aware you are a former Crow and all that entails. Becoming a Warden saved me from those that would hunt me. Nobody trifles with Wardens. I am an outcast, but not from here." He felt relaxed with the elf, enjoying their simple conversation which had a level of ease to it that was uncommon for him.

"What do you mean, nobody trifles with Wardens?"

"Well, nobody wants the wrath of the Wardens. We are untouchable, to the point that common folk simply don't interact with us. Same with governments. Let's say the Crows killed the Commander. This would be considered an act of war against all Wardens. Nobody wants to clean up that mess."

"Ah. Good to know. I however, will remain un-wardened, as my lady seems to prefer it that way."

"You do everything your lady tells you?" Nathaniel chuckled good-naturedly.

"Well." Zevran shrugged, "She has never lead me astray. Except that one time. She led me astray then. But just that once. Twice, actually. Twice she led me astray. I think that's it. To answer your question, yes I do everything my lady tells me, especially when I know she knows better than I do."

"Smart man." He smirked. "She's a good woman, but has always been a pain in the ass."

"I am inclined to agree, and find her well worth the work she involves."

"Nyla- the Commander, seems…better than I have seen her in years."

"Yes, we found each other. Had a shared venture." Zevran shrugged at his own grievous understatement.

"I'm glad for that. She was not the same after-"

"You knew her growing up, no?" Zevran spoke up, unwilling to talk about something so painful for her, and himself.

"As I said, always been a pain in the ass." He chuckled through his nose with a shake of his head.

"This, I must hear." Zevran wanted a story of little carefree Nyla, the spoiled noble who lived in a castle until the world landed on her shoulders.

Nathaniel sighed deeply, "Where to begin. She had always been kind of a softie, however, if you crossed her, which wasn't easy, mind you, she struck low, from stealth in the dead of night. All smiles and softness one moment, and the next, your testicles were in your own hand."

Zevran quirked an inquiring eyebrow at him. Howe spoke like Nyla, their accents and tonality very similar; it was eerie. "This sounds like her."

"Oh, I've got one. You will like this one." He laughed, enjoying the memory. "She had a mabari who was quite devoted to her, and as such, only took orders from her. This mabari was always in the larder, and Nyla would have to fetch him. One afternoon I was hiding beyond the doorway of her father's room, and I heard her father scolding her. Nyla, as always was very respectful, with her 'yes father' and 'I'm sorry father.' Once he dismissed her, she breezed past me, Dog on her heel, she mutters, 'Go fuck up the larder.' Dog, of course, bolts away-"

"Nate!" Nyla walked in briskly with a chuckle, "I had no idea you saw that." She spoke playfully, but Zevran could sense the tension behind her jovial demeanor. "Nos vamos ahora, Zevran." We are leaving now.

"Nyla, nos vamos." We are leaving now, he corrected her.

"How does that make sense?" Nyla asked with hands on her hips. Zevran simply shrugged. "Bésame el culo." Kiss my ass, she chuckled, rolling her eyes.

"Si tú quieres." If you want me to.

"¡Tenemos que huír! ¡Ahora!" We have to flee! Now! Nyla shrugged and looked at him questioningly, not sure if she got it right.

"¡Si! ¡Bien hecho! ¿La hemos cagado?" Yes! Well done! Shit is going down?

"Yes! Si! Fuck!" Nyla was growing frustrated.

"¡Carajo!" Fuck! Zevran instructed her as enthusiastically as she had spoken, including mimicking her hand gesture.

"Fucking… ¡Carajo! You know, that's not nearly as satisfying," She laughed, catching onto what he was doing, "Maker damn it, Zevran, quit fucking with me! Goodbye, Nate." She stopped to salute the startled and confused man with arms crossed against her chest.

"Bye, Commander." He returned her salute.

Nyla walked briskly toward the exit, Zevran pacing her. Once outside of the keep, Nyla broke into a sprint, and Zevran kept up with her, wondering what was going on. Entering the stables, Nyla snapped her fingers at the horsemaster and pointed to Zevran's mount. Saddled and ready within minutes, they charged away as if death was on their heel.

Galloping hard, Zevran followed, she periodically looked back to make sure he was still there. After an hour of hard running, Nyla slowed and dismounted.

"Amor?" He inquired softly as he dropped from his horse.

"They conscripted you, Zev." She sniffed and wiped her cheek with her wrist. "Their rationale was one of practicality, and utility. He knew the Crows are still after you. He insisted you are a liability to their Warden-Commander. Being a former Crow, they considered you an asset, they imagined you would have useful knowledge or… or Crow secrets." She paced, running her hand over her head. "I tried to argue at first, but I thought if I kept arguing… fuck… I said I understand, played it off that I agree… that's when we fled. Andraste's tits, forced fucking conscription? We're not even in a fucking blight!" She turned around and punched a tree with a frustrated growl.

He rushed toward her and grabbed her hands. "No no no no, amor, do not punch trees." This was odd; his woman never punched things.

"They conscripted you!" She pulled away from him, pacing, animated with wide gestures expressing her sense of incredulity. "I was the only Warden when the blight ended, Zevran. I had to single-fucking-handedly rebuild this order, and I did. One would think I could have just one liberty, one fucking thing for myself. Have I not given enough?" She slowed down, pacing, eyes on the ground, wide with panic. "Zevran, they likely won't pursue, but… we're not going back. We should be fine. They aren't going to use their time to chase one conscript."

Pacing heightened his own sense of urgency and he grasped her arms gently, holding her still. "Nyla, why did you not let them conscript me? I wouldn't mind being Warden, especially if it served you."

"Because, listen, I'm going to tell you. I'm not supposed to." Nyla stood close to him, meeting his eyes. "Because the joining could kill you, and I do not like the odds."

"Zevran does not like them either." It did not elude him that Nyla had just given up her Warden life to ensure his survival; he would have done the same. Zevran gazed into her eyes feeling his love for her, so rich, so deep and profound the word love seemed insufficient. "Nyla... you had me."

"Yes, I will always have you," she paused, biting pursed lips and wondering how to continue. "There was no way of knowing if you would survive the Joining, and there's one more thing… another reason I don't want you to be a Warden. I keep putting it off telling you this, and it is going to hurt."

"Go on," he spoke patiently, his apprehensive gaze still on her.

"Wardens typically have thirty years to live from the time of their joining."

"There is no cure for this?" He asked quickly as agony rolled through him.

"Zev… no. There's no cure. I joined during the Blight. Senior Wardens speculate that I may only have half that."

"Shit." Zevran wavered on his feet. "Shit." It hit him hard; eleven-ish years was far too few. "No, Nyla. Absolutely not."

"Darling," she tried not to cry as abject horror flashed over his gaze, "Zevran, we can't will it away."

"How will you die? Just fall over dead?" He reached up a shaky, gloved hand and wiped her tears away. "How unpredictable is this?"

"I don't know what it's like, but they say we know when it's time. We refer to it as our Calling. At that point we go into the Deep Roads to die honorably." She sighed, swallowed, the next part harder to say. "Or, given time, we become a ghoul."

"No." He spoke firmly, his anger flared. "No fucking Calling. No becoming a ghoul. We will grow old together, Nyla, we will die together." His aching heart pounded in his chest. "This is bullshit, Nyla. I do not want my Nyla with the fucking Wardens anyway; doing their bidding, constant darkspawn killing and bullshit caves." His anger got bigger the more he examined it, and his voice louder as he spoke. "Bad enough you must live with a taint, making you feel connected to evil things… and… and… you fucking pay for it?"

"Come here." Nyla whispered, pulling him close. He leaned into her embrace. "I'm sorry. That was too much at once. Te amo. What time I have left in this world, I am yours."

"No, Nyla." He pulled away from her. "You are not hearing me. No taint, no Calling. We have years to find a cure, we will find one."

"Zev?" She felt soft, so very in love as she looked into his golden eyes. "You are everything to me, as well."

"I know." With a rich sigh, his anger calmed under the hope she did not have to die. He no longer felt powerless, and he relaxed in her arms. "Now say it in Antivan."

"I don't want to." Nyla wrapped her arms more snugly around him.

"When we get to camp, I will do that thing with my tongue that makes Nyla's toes curl."

"Lo eres todo para mi." You are everything to me. She purred with a coquettish grin and leaned in for a kiss.