Glancing toward the wall, Shianni's eyes narrowed. It was darker here, the stone looming over the clustered row of houses. There was a gap between them, an alley. She took a step forward.

Corienne lay a hand on her arm. "What is it?"

Taking another sip from her flask, Shianni scowled. "I… thought I saw something." She didn't have to turn to see the other woman's stare, the look that would pass between her and the others. All of them were deep in drink and yet she was the only one that ever seemed to inspire the raised brows, the pitying glances. None of them knew; none of them had been there. But this wasn't about that. She had seen something, she was sure of it now.

Moving deeper into the alley, she snorted. "I saw that, you know."

The others shared a look behind her back but made no move to follow.

They were a good distance from the gate still. The stone of the wall was older here, pitted and patched. Running a hand across the cracks, she let her eyes wander upward. Bloody wall.

It descended as if on wings, the shadow fluttering in whispering folds. Beside her it dropped, the figure cloaked and hooded, landing with ease. Cursing beneath her breath, Shianni whirled, dropping her flask as she shoved the thing hard against the wall.

Small, too small for a human. But it made no move to fight, the shadowed face tilting as it chuckled. One hand moved slow, showing her its palm as it lowered the hood.

An elf, tanned and golden-haired. There were marks curling cross his cheek, twitching as he smiled down at her. One of the Dalish? Here? Never had she seen the Vallaslin - their tattoos – , not up close. It was… prettier than she would have thought. But the stranger was watching her eyes, grinning now. Again she scowled, bracing her palms against his chest for emphasis.

"Such a welcome! You would think the Alienage would have more visitors." The words were strange, his accent thick and lilting, an edge beneath the slurs.

"Who are you?"

He slipped from her with startling ease, flourishing his cloak as he dropped into a sweeping bow. "My name is Zevran. Zev, to my friends. But as to who I am…" He hesitated, lowering his voice as he glanced round. "Ahh, that is something of a delicate matter. And the reason I am here. There are… elders, yes? Someone in charge?"

Folding her arms, Shianni glowered. "Maybe."

His eyes lit on the flask, leaking slow into the dirt. Scooping it up, he took an experimental sniff. "I see you are a woman of… interesting tastes. And I have disturbed you. My apologies." He dropped it into her hand with a deep nod.

After a long moment she took a sip, watching him over the rim. "You're not Dalish."

He smiled. "Alas, no."

"Who sneaks into the Alienage?"

"Perhaps someone who has nowhere else to go."

Still she watched him, saw those lips purse beneath darkening eyes. With a sigh, Shianni turned for the square. "Come with me."

Valendrian and Cyrion had been closeted with the stranger for some time now. Shianni had protested when they had told her to wait outside, welcoming this-this Zevran into their homes without even a question. She had seen the leathers beneath that cloak, too fine, too gaudy for any sort of down-on-his-luck beggar. They hadn't even bothered to search him for weapons, ignoring her advice, ushering her out as they always did. The stranger, though, had watched her, something in his eyes smiling still.

Pressing her ear against the wood of the door, Shianni held her breath.

"…by a Grey Warden… show my face again…"

She pushed the door aside, bursting into the room.

"Shianni!"

"Grey Warden!" She moved to Zevran's chair, bending to brace her hands against his shoulders. "He said something about a Grey Warden." She shook him. "What did you say?"

Raising a brow, he tilted his head to look behind her.

Cyrion sighed. "She is my niece. I apologize."

Zevran blinked up at her, lips twitching. "I had an… unfortunate encounter with a Grey Warden, this is true."

"Who?" Again she slammed him back.

"Shianni! He is our guest!"

"Kallian Tabris! My cousin. She's a Grey Warden. Or she… left to join them."

Slowly, Zevran shook his head. "I know of only the one. And he said that he was the last."

"The last?"

"There is talk of a battle in a place called Ostagar. It is said that all of the Wardens perished there. Except for him."

Releasing him at last, she felt herself stagger. Shianni pinched shut her eyes, fists clenching as she paced. "No."

There were arms around her now, Cyrion's chin quivering where it rested against her head. "You are certain?"

Zevran watched them, somehow understanding, his whisper hushed. "Yes."

She was running then, turning from the room without a thought for the stranger.

"You know for someone who's supposed to be in hiding, you sure aren't doing a very good job." Shianni paused, bracing the washbasket against her hip.

Zevran sat on the platform above, dandling a leg over the side as he looked out over the bridge to the city. It had become a daily vigil of his, this watch, and though he might appear at ease, there was no mistaking the focus of that glare, the coiled tension as he reclined. Smiling down at her, he chuckled.

"Elves don't prance about, you know. And we certainly don't dress like that." He wore his leathers beneath a simple and loose-fitting tunic and breeches. But they were brightly colored, the seams altered at his direction by a rather confused and put-upon tailor.

"Then it seems you do not know much about elves." Leaping down, he landed lightly beside her. "Or fashion."

"Right."

"Come." He took the basket from her, starting toward her home. "Yours is a face made for smiling, dear Shianni. Your hands for something more than wash water."

"And yours? What were they meant for?" She watched him from the corner of her eye. "I heard… a rumor. About you."

"Mmm? Something suitably scandalous, I hope."

"About what you were. What you are."

"Charming? Funny? Ridiculously handsome?"

The walk had been short. Pushing the door open, she took the basket from him and set it inside. Hesitating there, she shook her head. It had been long since she had invited anyone inside.

Zevran eyes had roamed as she bent, snapping skyward with an innocent expression as he grinned. "Do not keep me in suspense."

With a sigh, Shianni grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. Folding her arms, she sank back against the door. "You're an Antivan Crow."

He walked deeper into the room, surveying it openly. Chuckling, he tsked. "You try so hard to be discreet… Ahh, well."

"Did they know? Valendrian and Cyrion? Did they know that when they allowed you to stay?"

"Of course." His expression became serious as he turned. "I did not lie."

"Just to everyone else."

"And what do they say, this 'everyone else'? Since they seem to know so much?"

Shianni hesitated. She still could barely believe it herself. "They… are excited. They think you can protect them. Some of the younger ones even want to send you into the city, let you 'take care of things.'"

Throwing back his head, Zevran laughed.

"It's not funny." She stalked forward now. "It's the Crows that hunt you, isn't it? Them and that Grey Warden. Everybody seems to want you dead and so you come here, to us. You'd bring them down upon us!"

He stepped close, pressing her back against the door. "That is not my intention."

"Then what is?"

"This Ferelden is… unkind to elves."

She scoffed, but he held up a warning finger.

"I merely had nowhere else to go."

"You could have found the Dalish, gone back to Antiva or Nevarra or something, anywhere but here!"

His smile was wistful. "I did live amongst the Dalish for a time… It did not end well."

"That's not exactly comforting."

Zevran smiled down at her. "But I rather like it here. More than I expected, truth be told. And perhaps they are right, perhaps there is some good that I can do here. Would that truly be so bad?"

So close he was, her eyes again straying to those marks, the way they followed the lines of his jaw. There were more, she saw, curling up his neck and almost hidden beneath his hair. They seemed to continue, disappearing beneath his tunic.

His smile thickened, twisting crooked. "Ahh."

Shianni shoved him away. "If you… do anything… if you bring any trouble you'll… have to answer to me."

He leaned close, the whisper warm against her cheek. "I would have it no other way. In fact, I almost look forward to the day."

She tried to twist away, but he turned in the same moment, their lips brushing. There was a chuckle there as he covered her mouth with his, her hands fluttering, clenching, unclenching indecisive between them. Oh, sod it. Shianni found herself leaning upward, into him, the stiffness slowly abating.

After a long moment, Zevran pulled away, cupping a hand against her cheek. There was something searching, almost tender behind his eyes. "Are you drunk?"

"No." She grinned. "But I think I want to be."

Pacing impatiently, Shianni shot a glare up the alley. It had to be nearly noon. She had finished her morning chores, slipped away as the others sat down to the midday meal. Almost a habit now and still her stomach fluttered every time.

Arms closed hard round her waist, the familiar chuckle whispered against her ear. But she had stiffened, startled. Zevran released her and stepped round.

Shianni smirked. "Don't do that."

"Apologies." She couldn't help but smile as he bowed. There had been such obvious relief there. Never would he hurt her; she knew that now.

Still his hand was gentle as it closed round hers, pulling her into their favored spot behind the gardens. Already her hands were running over his chest. A pity that she could not see the marks this time, couldn't take the time to trace her fingers over those now-familiar whorls. But that was the problem with a secret affair, she supposed. Shianni found herself laughing.

Zevran lifted her with ease, pressing her back against the wall of the building. Holding his eyes for a long moment, she shifted, sighing as she felt him enter her.

He chuckled for the ease of it. "Impatient, were we?"

"Just a bit." Her teeth found his ear, echoing his gasp.

"Ahem."

Maker's—! Her arms tightened around his neck even as he dropped her, catching her round the waist to prevent her from falling.

Cyrion stood with arms folded. "Zevran. Shianni."

"U-Uncle!" She could feel her face heating, did her best to hide it beneath a scowl.

"So it is true."

"I'm a grown woman, Uncle."

"I do not doubt that." There was something almost… bemused behind his sternness. "But you can understand my concern. And Zevran. If you are going to live among us, it would be best if you hold to our customs."

"Uncle!"

He couldn't know what Cyrion meant, couldn't possibly. But there was a tiny smile there as Zevran gazed down at her, a quiet chuckle as he nodded. "Of course. Whatever it takes."

Humans. In the Alienage. The mages were bad enough, but now this… Standing at the back of the crowd, Shianni scowled. But these new humans were different, they said. They were making trouble for the Arl. And trouble for the Arl was something she could get to like.

She spotted them as she glanced over her shoulder. Hand straying to the earring, she rolled it between her fingers, feeling that strange calm wash over her as she moved to meet them.

They also said the man was a Grey Warden. She had heard enough now to know that the rumors were true. None of the others had survived Ostagar. Kallian hadn't survived. But for the last of his order, this human looked little more than a boy.

"Shianni?"

She nodded.

"I… uh…"

The woman beside him gave an impatient sniff, folding her arms in a way that only accentuated her barely-covered curves. Whore.

"They told you I was the one to come to if you wanted to get into trouble?"

He laughed with relief, too loud, too awkward. They already seemed to know most of the details, but she did what she could to fill them in. The so-called plague, the sudden appearance of the mages, the elves gone missing since.

"And why haven't you done anything?" There was real concern in the red-haired woman's voice, but still she judged.

"We would love to, but you'll find most of the others… less excited about the idea."

"They do not believe you."

Shianni shook her head. "They do, I think. But still they do nothing. They won't listen to us, but maybe with you here…"

The Grey Warden blinked. "Who is 'us?'"

She saw the man's eyes widen as the familiar arm slipped round her waist. "I have been quite eager to do the job myself, but one—"

Shianni elbowed him.

"—Two against so many is not exactly favorable odds, my friend."

"Zevran." The man had stiffened, lowering his hand before it could stray to his blade.

"Grey Warden."

Shianni quirked a brow as she looked up at him. "I thought you were going to stay out of sight."

"And miss the opportunity for such a touching reunion? Tsk."

"What are you doing here?"

He only shrugged, grinning. "I had always wanted to see a Ferelden Alienage. Beautiful, no?"

"I told you if I ever saw you again…"

Shianni held up her hands, positioning herself between them. "We know. But is it really important now?" She nodded toward the crowd, to the guards forcing the elves away from the hospice doors.

Again Zevran wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin against her shoulder. "I believe what my wife is trying to say is, can we not let bygones be bygones?"

The human goggled. "Your wife?"

Standing on the platform, Shianni looked out across the bridge. Beyond the city burned, the screams, the clash of arms echoing even here. Never had she thought to be grateful for that gate.

Their own fortifications stood ready. She wanted to know if they would hold, she needed to know. She should be staying, fighting. That was how it should end.

He slipped behind her as he always did. Quiet as he was, she always knew when he was there. She remembered how he had sat at this spot, how he had said that he would save them. And he had. With the Grey Warden's help they had defeated the mages, exposed the slave trade. The Grey Warden had even pleaded their case at the Landsmeet. But it was all for nothing now. The darkspawn had breeched the city. Soon enough the Alienage would burn.

"Amora, it is time."

Shianni chewed her lip, refusing to turn round.

"Amora, please."

"Why?" She whirled. "I can stay! I can fight!"

His eyes held hers, so wide, so golden. "They need you to lead them."

"That's not why and you know it."

"No. It is not."

Taking her hand in his, he helped her down from the platform. The others were waiting, the old ones, the children, the women who could not fight. But she could fight. She was supposed to fight!

"Zevran." She traced her fingers along the marks, her other fist clenching against his chest. "Come with us." Desperate yes, and she knew better. But it had to be said.

He shook his head, the argument long past. "I have something of a talent for running away, you might say… for surviving."

"Then do it. Sod it, sod this place, sod it all. Survive."

The chuckle was whispered, his lips pressing lingeringly against her forehead. "That, I think, is up to you now."

She could feel the sting welling behind her eyes, teeth digging painfully into her lip.

Zevran brushed fingers there, moving to sweep aside her hair. They curled gently round the earring as he bent to press his lips to hers. Stepping back he looked down at her, hand moving now to rest against her belly.

"You are right, you know."

"What?"

"Kallian is a beautiful name."