The world was hazy as he desperately tried to stay unconscious, he'd been hurt before, he'd been hurt a lot, but it wasn't anything quite like this. His body burnt from the inside, wounds screamed at him, calling for attention. He tried to open his eyes yet his face was so swollen he could only open them a crack. The world around him glowed orange and the cold stone beneath his body cooled the fever a little. There were feet in front of him, sandals, simple leather soles tied up the legs with thin strips of thong. The legs and feet were dirty and splashed with blood.

Someone was talking above him and he struggled to listen and his heart sank, he didn't understand the language but he heard the gruff throaty grunting of darkspawn. Why wasn't he dead, they couldn't be keeping him alive because of his pretty face. Well they could but he didn't really like to think about it. He was too hot, his body was in too much pain to stay awake. So when he was yanked upright he passed out.

He drifted in and out of consciousness, he was occasionally fed healing poultices, feeling the warming magic keep the burning at bay for a little while each time. When he woke there was a wet cloth on his head and his eyes had become less swollen. The world around him was darkened and he could feel the presence of someone opposite him. He turned his head slowly, the cloth falling from his brow as he started back. The Hurlock stared at him with hungry eyes but wordlessly stood and left the room.

Zevran grunted as he tried to push himself up. Well there was the answer as to the question if he could escape. He couldn't move two feet upwards very well how was he supposed to stealth out? He wasn't about to question why he was alive, he was, that was enough, where there was life there was hope.

He recognised the place but he couldn't quite think enough to put a place to a name. The door opened to the large area and he turned. She walked through the door in semi darkness, silhouetted for a moment by the orange light outside and watched him for a moment before turning and snarling something to the creatures outside. She shut the door behind her and crossed over to him fluidly, there was something almost boneless about her, she didn't move, she flowed. Of course, it didn't matter how injured you were, look at a woman like that and you would wonder all sorts of things you shouldn't.

'You elf.' She said, her words were harsh and difficult to understand, she swallowed vowels and her speech was reminiscent of a language he had heard too often. The blood in his veins seemed to burn hotter as she approached and he gave a soft whimper. 'You know… the paragon.' His head hurt as he tried to process her words, she didn't let him think. Her fingers twisted into a bite on his chest and she pulled, tearing the flesh, her skin made his blood scream in protest, his brain burning with the touch of her.

'Yes!' He screamed unwilling and she let go of him. He panted and she reached out to a chest, pulling out a healing poultice and uncorking it. She jammed the open end into his mouth, pulling his head back so he had to swallow. He felt the magic run through him and he wilted against the bench. 'Yes, I know your mother.' She gazed down hard at him for a long second before licking her finger and rubbing her saliva against the open wound. He clenched his jaw against the sudden pain that began to flare hotter and hotter. His body began to shake from the agony of it, he wasn't thinking anymore, all that was left of him screamed to simply hold on. The knife digging out a divot of burning flesh was a welcome relief after that. He watched it as she cast it to the floor, the little lump of flesh blackening and shrivelling. He trembled.

'My mother. She is no dwarf thing.' The words were sharp and discordant to a normal speaking voice. 'Paragon left me for my mother.'

'No, she did not, she…' He was interrupted by a mocking laughter, which was probably good because he wasn't sure how to end that sentence. She turned again and looked down at him. He was struck by how she looked so much like her mother, only taller. The round cherubic face with large eyes, dark hair cut short, off her face. The eyes were Alistair's though, by all rights a monstrous inside should be seen from the outside yet she looked merely curious.

'They took me to mother. She made me grow and be strong.' She walked, no flowed, across the room and closed her eyes. Something black flitted into the corner of his vision, sliding itself around the girls waist and then another over her shoulder. She leant into the tentacles and she was gently lifted from the floor, cradled tenderly. 'Mother speaks. Tells me of dwarves. Teaches me words.'

'And very fine words they are too.' He said and her eyes snapped open to look at him. 'For a three year old.' She looked at him quizzically for a moment and then cocked her head as if listening.

'She calls this mockery. That you should die for it.' She was lowered back to the ground. 'They are so hungry. I am so hungry.' She crossed the floor to him, the armour she wore was leather, she obviously didn't fight enough to need her mother's equipment. 'She wants me to eat you.'

'Well, far be it from me to spoil dinner.' He said, feeling a bead of sweat form on his brow as she got close enough to start his blood burning again.

'I have plans.' She whispered to him softly stroking her finger down his cheek.

'Plans that involve me?' He questioned, knowing he probably didn't want to know the answer for this.

'You die.' She said softly. 'Your blood is tainted.' She murmured, almost lovingly. 'The others said I hurt. I was near. I hurt.' She smiled, there was a little joy in that. 'But you can be saved.' Her eyes were fixed onto his. 'This was our home, in the dark roads, until the dwarves stole it. We took it back. It is ours. We will be left alone. The Paragon and the King must be told.' Zevran was pretty sure that neither wanted to hear this. 'They can save you.'

'And if I do not want to be saved?' He asked her seriously.

'Only you can come back.' She said. 'You talk. To me. We desire life. Not die. My people. Mine.' He hesitated.

'I think I understand.' He said seriously. 'What should I call you?'

She frowned at that question, cocking her head to one side, listening for a moment. 'They call me Rmva.' She smiled at the growl that came out of her mouth. 'The baby.'