The frist part of the story starts with an episode of Zevran's early childhood in the whorehouse. The next few chapters are about his training with the Crows. These are childhood memories, loose little episodes, so it's not a coherent story in this part. Also: There is no Taliesin in the first few chapters. You have to wait a bit. ;)

Translation help for this chapter came from DreGregoire and Corker (Corkerite on FF). Thank you so much!

An Assassin's Childhood

1. The First Years

1.1 The Naughty Boy

Many women lived in his home. None of them were his mother. It was a very big house with many rooms. The women were all very pretty, wore nice clothes, painted their faces and curled their hair. There were always many visitors and there was lots of laughter.

The only problem was that he was bothersome. He should always hide, should not be heard and not be seen. If he was, then he was beaten - mostly by Olinda, a woman who was not quite as beautiful, because her face had wrinkles and was painted too much. But Olinda was the woman who gave him and the other children something to eat from time to time. So Zevran was not sure whether he should like her or not. There was another woman whom he liked without doubts, and that was Dimeloé. She always looked sad when Olinda struck one of the children. Often she took such a child to her room and told him a story. Reason enough for Zevran to ensure that Olinda had to punish him very often ...

"Why have you pulled down the wallpaper, you silly boy?" Dimeloé said with a sigh as she cooled the bruises on his legs with a damp cloth.

The blond elf boy replied with a deep sad look in his amber eyes, "I do not know why I'm always so naughty."

Dimeloé got tears in her eyes at the sight of the little angel face "If your mother would see how you have to live here, she would turn in her grave." sniffed the young elven woman.

"You knew my mother?" the boy asked and hung on her every word.

"Of course I knew her. We were best friends. She was very pretty, had blond hair - just like you. But her eyes were deep green - such as the lakes in the Arlathan Forest."

"Alata forest?"

Dimeloé giggled "Arlathan - that is Dalish and means something like 'I love this place,' Your mother was a Dalish. She wore signs on her face - curved ornaments on her forehead and cheeks. I have no idea what they meant. But she looked so beautiful and mysterious. She was very popular here, you know? "

"Why did my mom not stay in the forest?"

"She fell in love with a man from the city and left her tribe behind to follow him."

"This man - was that my daddy?"

Dimeloé hesitated with her answer. "That, my child, only the maker knows. But your mother - I know she would have loved you. She had been looking forward to her child, even though she had a lot of pain."

"What had happened?"

"When she brought you into the world, the maker had taken her to himself."

"That's mean of him!"

Dimeloé laughed touched when she saw the angry face of the little boy. But then she became serious and continued very quietly. "You know, they say the maker only takes the very best of his creatures that early."

In gold-brown children's eyes tears formed. Dimeloé took the little boy on her lap and hugged him, hummed him a song she had learned as a little girl from one of the whores - as she was also brought up here without having known her mother. "You've got these gloves, am I right, Zevran?" The boy nodded silently and stealthily moved his treasure from his pocket - finely crafted, intricately embroidered ladies gloves of a very thin leather. "They belonged to your mother. She wore them quite often. It was the only reminder of her homeland. As long as you carry these gloves with you, there will always be a part of your mom with you."