Two days later Alistair and Zevran board the ship they booked passage on that will take them to Rivain. Zevran knows to try and lie low, as there may be Crows aboard ship, this close to Antiva. To save coin Alistair agreed to share a cabin with him, although they would be sleeping together in much tighter quarters than they had been in the inn.

Thankfully the voyage would only last three days, and they decided they would remain in their cabin for as much of the trip as they could stand. For Zevran, it was to avoid running into any of his former associates, and for Alistair, it was to avoid the temptation of the bottle. It was known that rum flowed liberally aboard these ships and the last thing Alistair needed was to spiral back into his old ways while stuck aboard ship.

Alistair was now struggling between two temptations, although Zevran was sure of only one of them. While they were just traveling along the road it was easy to maintain a healthy enough distance from each other. Once they were bunking together at the inn, he was in closer quarters with the handsome elf and it was already becoming hard to ignore his attraction, but Maker's Breath he now had to share an even smaller space with him, and Alistair was mortified. Alistair wasn't even entirely sure why the Maker hadn't struck him down for all his impure thoughts.

Alistair really enjoyed the friendship that he and Zevran were forming, and he knew he still needed Zevran's help to keep him from spiraling out of control again like he had in Kirkwall, but this was going to be difficult. Very difficult.

...

Zevran had scouted the ship after they left dock and confirmed there were indeed Crows aboard ship. Three of them. That was going to severely restrict his movements if he wanted to remain undetected. He was still the Crows most wanted man and he really wasn't equipped to deal with three of them right now. His only choice was to lay low.

That meant sending Alistair out to procure food and water for them. It was a fairly short voyage, but Zevran worried about Alistair being tempted to drink without him nearby. Unfortunately there was nothing for it.

He returned to their small cabin, frowning. "There are three of them."

"Maker. So what do we do?" Alistair asked.

"I will have to remain hidden. Dinner is being served in the mess, can you go and bring us back food and water? Can you trust yourself to not be tempted?" Zevran asked sternly.

Alistair swallowed visibly and shook his head. "I don't know. At the inn it was so difficult and you were right there. Alone? I just don't know."

Zevran walked over to the larger man and sat next to him on the bed. He grabbed Alistair by the shoulders and turned the warrior to face him. "Can you try? For me?"

"Y…yes. I'll try. I'm just a lot better at failing, these days," Alistair said forlornly.

"Hush. You were successful at purging that poison from your system. Do you really want to poison yourself like that again?" Zevran said seriously.

"Maker no. I really don't…but these cravings…they are still so bad," Alistair admitted.

"Just go down to the galley, ask for 2 plates of dinner and a skein of water and then come directly back here. Do not stop and talk to anyone. Can you do that, my friend?" Zevran queried.

"Well, when you put it that way… it doesn't sound so difficult. Alright. I'll try." Alistair agreed.

"Thank you, my friend," Zevran sighed. "Now off with you. The sooner you go the sooner you can return."

...

Alistair made his way through the bowels of the ship, wending his way towards the galley. He had hoped to not have to talk to anyone along the way, but he hadn't expected that he'd have to walk through the mess to get to the galley, although it made perfect sense when he thought about it.

The problem with going through the mess was that it was filled with people. Drunken and drinking. The smell of ale and rum assailed his nose and he groaned internally before setting his jaw and wending his way through the crowded mess towards the galley.

"Oi, Ferelden!" shouted a man who looked very much like a Rivaini pirate. "Come share a drink with me!"

Alistair kept walking, reminding himself of how disappointed Zevran would be if he gave into temptation now.

"Oi!" the pirate shouted again. "Am I too good for you to drink with? Who do you think you are? The King of Ferelden?" Laughter erupted around him and Alistair flushed in shame.

Alistair turned around and tried to speak calmly. "I am just here to get some dinner and return to my quarters. I'm afraid I'm not good company right now. I have been ill."

"Well then a drink is exactly what you need, mate!" the pirate grinned. "Oi, wench, get this man a glass of your best rum!"

Alistair tried to back away, but others crowded in behind him. "Please, I have been very ill. I couldn't stomach it," Alistair pleaded.

"It's just one drink. Humor me, Ferelden," the pirate smirked, grabbing the glass of rum offered by the serving wench and pressing it into Alistair's hand.

Alistair looked down at the drink in his hand, his heart thumping, and a sheen of sweat breaking out across his brow. He began visibly trembling.

"Go on, Ferelden, drink up! You look like you could use it!" the pirate roared with laughter.

Alistair began to lift the drink to his lips. Two conflicting voices roared in his brain, one saying It's only one drink. What harm could that do? The other tried to remind him of the pain and anguish he had gone through to get this poison out of his system in the first place, and how disappointed Zevran would be with him if he failed now.

Taking a deep breath, the internal conflict ceased and one clear voice won out. Alistair tipped up the glass and slammed back the rum in one gulp, savoring the burn as it went down his throat.

"There, satisfied?" Alistair asked before turning and pushing his way through the crowd and heading towards the galley. Alistair managed to make it to the galley and make his request for dinner when the rum hit him. The pleasant wooziness and warmth spread and he noticeably relaxed. Grasping his plates of food he marched back over to the pirate, full of false confidence.

"As a matter of fact," Alistair began. "I am in fact Ferelden royalty."

"Are you now?" the pirate asked, quirking a brow. "Who are you? The bastard prince?"

"As a matter-of-fact, I am," Alistair responded.

"We'd heard you died, your highness," the pirate said. "What are you doing on a ship bound for Rivain?"

"That is none of your business," Alistair stated firmly. "Now I must return to my quarters. Thanks for the drink."

As Alistair tried to make his way back out of the mess, the wench approached him with a second glass of rum. "For Your Highness. Compliments of the Captain, dearie," she indicated another man at the head table in the mess, giving him a smile and a wave.

No, no, no. One was more than he should have had to begin with. Two was worse.

"Go on, take it, I wouldn't be insulting the Captain if I were you," the wench said threateningly.

Alistair realized he was well and truly fucked, and he grabbed the glass and slammed the second one down, shoving the glass back at the wench before grabbing his plates of food and stalking out of the mess, the pirates and other patrons roaring with laughter again.

At first Alistair felt fine, with just a mild wooziness, something he thought he could play off and not have Zevran notice. It wasn't until he was just in the door of their cabin and Alistair was handing Zevran his plate of food when the second rum hit Alistair. Hard.

Alistair nearly stumbled against Zevran and wobbled to try and stay upright as the room began to spin. Alistair was trying very hard to play it off, but Zevran knew immediately what was going on.

"Alistair! What have you done!?" Zevran hissed at him angrily.

"'s'Nothing, I just went to get some food, thas' all," Alistair slurred thickly.

Zevran grabbed Alistair's plate and set both down on the small table in their cabin before turning to slap Alistair hard across the face. "You fool! I warned you not to drink. You made all that progress for nothing!"

Zevran's slap had the effect of slightly sobering up Alistair, but only slightly. "I'sorry Zev. I didn't mean to. The mean pirate made me. An' then the Captain did too."

"What…pirate? And the ship's Captain?" Zevran asked.

"There's a pirate, in the mess. He was…making fun of me and…and forced me to drink a glass of rum," Alistair explained. "A…and then…the Captain bought me a glass too, and…they said it would be rude…for me to refuse."

"Puta mierda," Zevran swore angrily. "If those Crows were not aboard I would give that pirate a piece of my mind, at the pointy end of my blade."

Zevran then softened his gaze, realizing it really wasn't Alistair's fault. He knew the cravings were already making things difficult. Having people shove drinks at him made them impossible.

"Come Alistair, sit," Zevran instructed. "I am sorry to have to do this but we must try and get that rum out of you quickly before it hits you any harder."

Zevran went to his pack and retrieved the herbs he'd used on Alistair before, sprinkling a liberal amount in a cup and then filling it with water.

"Drink."

Alistair drank, and was soon purging the remnants of the rum from his stomach into their chamber pot. Once it was purged to Zevran's satisfaction, he went about undressing Alistair in order to get him tucked into bed to rest.

Zevran noted that Alistair seemed to be getting aroused by his undressing him, but said nothing. Most likely Alistair was seeing him as some beautiful elven girl in his drunken state.

Then, Alistair reached out and grabbed Zevran, trying to pull the elf closer. "C'mere Zev, give me a kiss."

Zevran was taken aback…had Alistair actually asked him for a kiss?

"Zev, please! I don't care about the Maker-forsaken Chantry anymore. I just want to kiss you…so bad…please!" Alistair whined.

Zevran struggled against the larger man's grasp and finally got a firm hold on this hands. "No, my friend. I will not kiss you. Not tonight."

"Why, Zev?! I thought you wanted me…" Alistair cried.

Zevran sat down next to Alistair and cupped his face. "Look at me. I will not kiss you, or do anything else except tuck you into this bed, because you are not thinking clearly. If you really want a kiss from me, wait until you are sober, and ask me again," Zevran said sincerely. "I would never take advantage of you when you're in such a condition. I care for you too much to do so. Do you understand?"

Alistair nodded and began to cry. "Could you at least, hold me?"

"Si, this I can do," Zevran nodded. "Come, get under the covers and I will hold you as we get some rest."

Their dinner entirely forgotten, Alistair slipped under the covers and Zevran followed suit after stripping down to just his breeches. He then wrapped his arms around the weeping warrior, who curled himself around the elf as if there would be no tomorrow. Zevran felt Alistair's obvious arousal pressing against his hip.

"Dios me libre," Zevran breathed as held his weeping friend until they both drifted into the Fade.