Bioware's sandbox. I'm just borrowing the sandcastle.

Part 7

Zevran sat down across from Moira, unwilling to drip water on her. "Did he hurt you?" he asked as Moira was rubbing her wrist. The Mabari flopped down at her feet again.

"No, he didn't." She looked over at Zevran. "He is so sodding angry. It's palpable. How does someone get to be that angry?"

"You torture someone enough," Zevran said, wringing out his hair, "that's all they can remember. Sunshine and moonlight, flowers and pretty girls and pretty boys, they go away." His voice was matter-of-fact. "Some start thinking they deserve it. Some start liking it. Few can put it aside and move on."

"Did you? Move on?"

Zevran looked at her, his hands still wringing out his hair, "Sometimes, I fall asleep and I'm still in the Crows, strapped to a table. Then I wake up and realize I have you to thank for my life, my Warden." He stood up, "But much more of this and I will weep. And you have told me that I cannot weep on your bosom." He grinned. "One that is even more magical than Wynne's!" She laughed, shaking her head at him.

"You are incorrigible, Zevran," she stood up and walked over to him. She had watched the show with the dagger and was glad the elf was there. She risked the white shirt against his wet body to hug him, turning her face outward rather than toward his neck and laying her head on his shoulder. The assassin's arms went around her, the hidden strength in them holding her tight. He released her the minute she moved, though, and she placed a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you." She turned and went back to checking the stew. Without looking up, she asked, "Do you need me to help braid your hair before it dries?"

"No, my dear Warden. I think seeing you do that small task for me would unhinge our large friend. He's been watching you, Moira. Be careful, your faithful Mabari might not always fetch me in time, and you may be forced to do something you'll forever regret."

She straightened and looked at the elf. "You're right." She looked toward where Cullen had disappeared to bathe. "We were barely friends, you know, back at the Tower."

"My dear Warden, you do not have to explain anything," Zevran told her. He sat down, cross-legged on the ground and helped himself to the stew.

"He was always there, though. Mages and Templars, even as children, aren't allowed to associate with one another. To play. The only time we were allowed to be in the same room was chantry and religious lessons." Absently, her fingers reached down to scratch the Mabari's ears. She needed to tell this. Hopefully, by the time they found Alistair, she'd hoped to have Cullen at least less fixated on her. "He'd follow me, some times. Completely against the rules, of course. There were rumors that some Templars watched us bathe. I never found out if he was one of them, but I wouldn't be surprised. But if he did, it would only be me he watched. He was faithful in his obsession. The entire time I was there, he never looked at another woman, human or elf." She sighed, her eyes focused on Perrin as she pet him. "Before my Harrowing, a day or so before, he managed to catch me alone and kissed me." She finally looked at Zevran, the elf's fork had stopped halfway to his mouth. "It was my first kiss. He was so gentle and intense and I let his tongue in my mouth." She closed her eyes in memory. "It was, at the time, wonderful. I spent the next day before they came for me, imagining all sorts of silly girlish fantasies where we ran off together, of course.

"Then, Jowan betrayed me, Ostagar happened, and Uldred betrayed the whole tower."

"And the rest is history," Zevran smiled.

"And then you became the King's whore," Cullen said angrily. He'd put on a loose black shirt over the plain brown leathers that went under the armor. Heart pounding in the spike of rage that surged through her veins, Moira stood up and walked over to him. She considered just slapping him, but that wouldn't be enough. She wrapped her magic around her fist as if it were a sword and punched him in the jaw has hard as she could. Cullen fell back on his rear end. The clatter of a dropped tin plate on the hard ground as Zevran leapt to his feet was ignored by the mage and the Templar.

Moira stood over the man who'd once given her her first kiss. "And what I would have been to you would be any better?" She spun on her heel and went to help herself to the stew. She didn't really feel all that hungry any more, but she'd be sick in the morning without it. Perrin barked in warning and something big hit her from behind. She managed to twist around and found Cullen on top of her, pinning her down. She got her hand free enough to gesture to Zevran to wait. "I suggest you get off me and eat dinner. You're still injured and you need to rest." Cullen sat up, still straddling her, knees on either side of her hips, pinning her legs. His fists clenched and unclenched at his side. She saw the anger in his face, the uncertainty. "What are you going to do, Cullen? Hit me? Kill me? Then what? Go back to the Tower and kill innocent mages?" She saw Zevran walk around until he was directly behind the former Templar and Perrin circled around to stand near her head, growling softly.

He scowled down at her, "None of your kind are innocents! They are born corrupted!"

Her eyes narrowed, "If you truly believe that, then what are you waiting for? Isn't it your duty to remove my corruption from this world? Send me back to the Fade where my evil belongs!"

Emotions raced across his features: the scowl of his anger and hatred to sorrow to the knotted brow and tight lips of pain. The big man covered his face with his hands. "I – I can't! You – you aren't like them!"

She slid her legs out from under him, and stood up. Putting a finger under his chin, she tilted his face up to look at her, "Yes, I am."

They decided not to stop in West Hill. It wasn't that large of a port city and unlikely to have any ships going to the Tevinter Imperium or the Anderfels. At least, that was the decision Moira and Zevran came to. Cullen just glowered when he was asked his opinion. Zevran convinced Moira that he should be the one to continue training Cullen. At least until the former Templar calmed down. Fighting Moira, even in training, was likely to bring out the worst in the younger man. The elf wasn't sure why he kept thinking of Cullen as so much younger. Chronologically, he was older than Moira. However, Moira had definitely seen a great deal more of the world. Even saved it once. He allowed how that might warp his perception of the two former childhood friends.

They finally reached Highever. Moira was back in her armor, her staff tied to her pack and Spellweaver and Duncan's old dagger strapped to her back. Zevran had been the one to help both mage and ex-Templar into their respective armors the last few days, neither he nor Moira trusted Cullen being that close to her even for a few minutes. Zevran would just as soon have run the man through for all the trouble he was causing, but he knew better than to even propose that solution to Moira.

Highever seemed to be far more crowded than Denerim at this time of year. A banner strung across the main gate declared that the town was celebrating its, "Remembrance Day Festival." They joined the stream of people entering the town. They didn't exactly blend in, however. Everyone else was wearing their finest clothes and chattering happily. The two elves, the human and the Mabari were decidedly not in the celebrating spirit.

"What in the Maker's name is Remembrance Day?" Cullen asked, sullenly, glaring around at all the booths and wandering minstrels and clumps of dancing people.

Moira glanced at him, "The town of Highever remembers the anniversary every year of the day the Teryn's family was killed by the Arl of Amaranthine. They also throw in prayers for those lost at Ostagar. They have a huge party for a week, then on the last day spend all day at the Chantry, fasting." She looked at Zevran, "I'd like to avoid attracting the Teryn's attention. I've no desire to partake in their feasts and balls tonight."

Zevran shrugged, "If we can escape the notice of the Teryn, that would be preferable. However, Arl Teagan Guerrin of Redcliffe has already spotted us." Moira groaned. She could see no way to avoid the man without being rude. He had been watching some of the dancing from a stand of bleachers off to one side and sitting near the top, so he'd been in an excellent position to spot their arrival. Resigned, Moira approached their old friend, plastering a grin on her face.

Seeing them head for him, Teagan spryly leapt down from the middle riser, an impressive feat in red-steel plate mail, and ignoring Moira's offered hand, embraced her – armor and all. He shook Zevran's hand in greeting, and bowed slightly at Cullen, "Chancellor! It's wonderful to see you! Are you here for Fergus' festival?"

Moira looked him, thoughtfully. Remembering the letter she'd given Oghren, she decided she probably did need to talk to the red-haired Arl in confidence. Someone needed to know what she suspected, and the Arl would tell his brother. "Unfortunately, no, Arl Teagan. Is there somewhere we can speak privately?"

His brow knotted in concern, "Fergus is hosting me at his estate. And I'm afraid every inn in the city is booked solid. I'm sure the Teryn can provide accommodations for you and your friends?" His eyebrows went up with the question.

"Forgive me, Arl Teagan. You remember Zevran, Alistair's Minister of Foreign Affairs, I expect?" She caught Zevran's grin at his sudden appointment as she turned to gesture at Cullen, "Cullen of Lake Calenhad, the most recent Grey Warden Recruit." The Mabari barked, causing Moira to laugh and Teagan to smile, "And you've met Perrin." The Arl reached down to scratch the Mabari's ears in welcome.

"Congratulations on your appointment, Ser," Teagan bowed at the assassin. Then, turning to Cullen, he bowed also, "Thank you for your service, Ser." Moira could tell Zevran was still highly amused by his sudden promotion. She'd given him the title on impulse, confident Alistair would confirm it when they found him. She was just so tired of having his presence questioned as it had been in the Tower. She just wished she'd thought of it there. It was also somewhat amusing to appoint a former assassin as the foreign minister. It would certainly send an interesting note to Ferelden's neighbors. Teagan gestured to his own entourage and said, "Chancellor, if you would come with me, I'd be delighted to lead you to the Teryn's estate." She could tell he considered holding out his elbow as a gentleman would, but she defied convention at the moment in her plate armor. The small group began navigating the crowded streets of Highever, Teagan's men in a tight bubble around Moira's small group, with Teagan, Moira and Perrin walking abreast and Cullen and Zevran behind them.

It was a long walk to the Teryn's Estates. The party, however, seemed to be limited to the main thoroughfare near the front of the city. Within a few streets, the crowds had thinned out, only stragglers running and dancing towards the festival. Soon, even they trickled off. Moira glanced back at Zevran who nodded. The streets were awfully empty. Before she looked away, she saw the elf nudge Cullen and gesture with two fingers to his eyes and to the alleys. Cullen stopped sulking and began to watch alertly. Moira nudged Teagan who looked down at her. She moved her finger in a circle surreptitiously, the arl's eye brows climbed into his hairline, but he nodded and began to keep a closer watch. Zevran hissed at her, "We just picked up some company for the evening, my Warden. Shall we ask them to dance?" She glanced backward and held up her hand. She couldn't snap her fingers in the armor, but she tapped her leg. She heard the Mabari growl softly. "Amateurs," Zevran snarled.

On the heels of his statement, dozens of ragged-looking street toughs poured out of the alleys and buildings. One of them shouted, "The Chancellor dies here!" at the same time Teagan shouted, "Protect the Chancellor!" Moira rolled her eyes. Gallant idiot. If anyone needed protecting here it wasn't she. Teagan wasn't quite as battle hardened as she, and wasn't a mage wearing full plate armor

"See? Amateurs!" Zevran shouted.

Moira grinned tightly and drew Spellweaver and Duncan's dagger. "They stole your line, too."

"Like I said," Zevran launched himself at the first wave of attackers, Cullen and the Mabari at his heels. All three were in their now well-worn spaces in her mind, so she could monitor the damage they took.

She yanked Teagan to stand next to her, "Makes their job easier and bad guys' harder if we're together for them to protect." She gasped then as Cullen took a vicious swipe on his sword arm and Zevran didn't manage to duck a mace to his head. She quickly sheathed her weapons, gathered her focus and her will and flung healing energy at them. A couple of would-be assassins managed to break through the line her friends and Teagan's guards made and rushed at them. The Arl and the mage drew their weapons and defended themselves. Moira cursed the narrow streets that wouldn't let her use her magic without harming the Arl or his men. Especially since her senses were too filled with Cullen, Zevran and Perrin to add him to the mix so she could keep him alive as well. She parried and struck, somehow not getting in Teagan's way nor he hers. She felt Perrin take a warhammer in the ribs, and almost missed parrying her attacker's next blow as the pain shot through her own ribcage. She decapitated her opponent and flung a healing spell in the Mabari's direction. As suddenly as the attack occurred, it was over. Moira stood, panting as adrenaline ebbed and her companions' presences left her consciousness. Zevran was cleaning his blades on the clothing of the men he'd killed and Cullen shrugged and did the same. The Mabari ran back over to Moira and flopped down, tongue lolling and stub of a tail wagging. Teagan was panting as well. There were five guards left of Teagan's entourage. They carefully picked up their fallen comrade.

"What was that all about?" The arl asked.

"I think that should wait until we're at the Teryn's Estates," Moira said. She called to Zevran, "Anything interesting?"

"They weren't Crows, if that's what you're asking. Crows are only this clumsy on purpose," he grinned at her. "However, this is interesting." He brought her a rolled-up sheet of parchment. She unfurled it and read, "The Chancellor is beginning to suspect. Take care of her. – T"

"Curiouser and curiouser. The faster we get to the Teryn's estates the better. How far are we Teagan?" She asked.

"A mile, maybe less," he replied.

"We leave your men here, they're safer without us, and we run," she waited for the Arl to tell his men their orders and then the five of them set out at a run to the Teryn's estates.