Chapter 14
The Truth

Blackness. Utter and absolute.

Zevran opened his eyes, then shut them, then opened them again. Other than the feeling of his lids pressing together, there was nothing else to indicate that he'd actually woken. He could see nothing, had no idea if there was a wall two inches from his face or if he'd been dumped into the center of a cavernous chamber. But the more he blinked, the more he noticed.

Pain was the first thing, dark and nebulous as it pulsed beneath his temple. Cold, and grit beneath his cheek, the air musty with the smell of rock and water. His clothing damp, the light cottons and buttery leathers clinging to skin gone clammy with chill and sweat.

"Antiva?"

Zevran's heart clenched. He'd been huddled on his side, but now he struggled to rise, hissing at the agony that shot through his head when he managed to push himself up off the floor. "Kallian!"

"Thank the Maker... I was starting to think you'd never wake up."

Her weakened voice broke his heart. The sound came from somewhere ahead of him, off to the right, and he dragged himself forward a few inches before giving up. Wherever they were - a cell, he'd wager - he'd been hurt, and badly. "Are you well?"

"Well as I can be, I guess." A sad laugh punctuated the end of her statement. "How's your head?"

Wincing, Zevran touched his right temple, biting back a grunt of pain. "It rests upon my shoulders. Aside from that..."

"They really knocked you good." Breathy now, her distress clear. "Antiva, why'd you do that?"

Slowly, the last hour he could recall filtered back into his brain. The guards arriving at Vaughan's house, Kallian's confession, his own mad attempt to keep them from arresting her. Sergeant Kylon arriving, the order to restrain him, his own panic spinning him into berserker mode...

Elves, as it turned out, made miserable berserkers.

"I could not let them take you, my blossom."

Her heavy sigh complemented the dreary setting. "Fat lot of good it did you. Now we're both in here. You and Soris could have gone free, you know."

"Kallian..." he swallowed, moistening his swollen tongue. "Why did you confess so easily? Between the two of us, we could have escaped. There were only a few of them, easily overpowered."

Silence for a moment. "I dunno. I didn't want you arrested I guess."

"I would never have left you to such a fate..."

"But maybe you should have," she blurted, her voice strained. "I mean, look at me. I got myself caught in the forest - you told me to keep my blade to myself, but I couldn't help it. Vaughan showed up and - I could have cowered, groveled a little, and he might have had a little fun with me and let me go. But no..." The words were drawled, dripping with disgust. "I had to go waving my sword around, challenge him to do something about it. Damn it! I hate humans!"

"Not all are like Vaughan," he offered. "I have had many human friends."

"Where are they now?" she bit out. "Any of them coming to get you?"

"One can hope," he said, attempting a cheerful jibe. But the smile did nothing but send another sharp pain caroming through his head, and he settled his face back into neutral. "Where is Soris?"

"They're questioning him," she replied. "They've dragged me off twice already, and him once. With luck, he's doing what I told him and saying he didn't do anything."

"Kallian, you haven't confessed, have you?"

"Of course," she said staunchly. "I'm guilty, after all. And you'd better not screw this up, Antiva. I'll get sent to a prison camp, most likely, but it'll only be ten years or so-"

"Ten years?! She says as if it was nothing!"

"Ten years - unless you break me out." The unmistakable verve in her voice was almost funny. "How hard can it be? We'll figure it out. This way, though, I'm the only one to blame. If we'd escaped, Zevran - what do you think would have happened to the other elves?"

He sighed.

"Exactly," she finished for him, taking his tired noise as answer. "And I couldn't let that happen. I'd rather live a hunted criminal than risk anyone else in my family being hurt or threatened. Shianni, Soris - they're too young to deal with this crap."

He said nothing, his head aching too much to respond. There was no way he'd allow her to be sentenced. She'd killed a human nobleman... Zevran would have bet his best boots that the punishment for such a thing was a bit more than ten years breaking rocks.

Anything he might have said was interrupted by the creak of rusty hinges, and Zevran squinted against the sudden beam from a lantern held aloft. A disembodied hand carried the light, and as Zevran's eyes adjusted he made out the gaoler belonging to the hand. Another followed behind, and Zevran took the opportunity to inspect his prison before they stole the brightness away again.

Cells. His own looked roughly six by six, with rough stone for the floors and bars on three sides. The back wall was more rock, gleaming with minerals and damp as the ray of mock sun glinted in the blackness. A simple lock built into the metal - laughable. Across the way, Kallian sat cross-legged on the floor of another cell, one hand raised to shield her vision against the lantern's invasive glare. She seemed unharmed, though her clothing and hair remained matted and gummed with blood and sweat.

The guard stopped just inside the door, his hand lifting the lantern to shine the way for a third person, decked in a pale cloak with a voluminous hood. "Thank you," a low voice murmured from within the fabric, and Zevran's eyes widened.

"Call if you have need of us, Majesty," the first guard said in a gruff voice, then both men bowed and exited after affixing the lantern to the wall.

Kallian's green eyes flew wide as feminine hands folded back the cloth from a cultured face, though it hid her rounding figure. Shining dark hair had been tucked into a neat bun at the back of her head, Lyra Theirin's blue eyes roaming the jail before coming to rest on Zevran. Those eyes tapered as the queen strode forward to kneel before his cell. "Zev," she said softly.

"Bella flor, where is the man who is supposed to guard your very life?" Zevran demanded in an indignant voice. "Irresponsible, both of you. This damp air cannot be healthy."

"As if damp air could keep me away." A wry twist of her lips as she delved into an inner pocket of her cloak. "Alistair is meeting with the nobility, trying to clean up the mess you made. They wouldn't let me bring Anders - Wynne's besides herself, you know. She's dying to come down here and see you. But she's got no strength for healing... not anymore, anyway. She sent this, instead." A shimmering blue flask was pressed into his hands, and Zevran didn't hesitate to lever the cork free and put the glass to his lips. The first sips were soothing if bitter, clearing his headache and his vision. Aside from magical healing, no one could concoct a potion like Wynne. Sighing with relief, he lowered the flask, then urged Lyra to give some to Kallian.

"Forgive me... I should have offered it to you first," Lyra said in a soft voice as she turned to Kallian. "Are you badly hurt?"

"You're the queen, aren't you?" Kallian squeaked, her gaze locked on Lyra's face. "He - the guard - he called you Majesty!"

"Oh. Yes." Lyra fed her a slight smile, then waved the potion in her direction. "Take it. This will heal you, you know. You look a bit bloody."

Kallian's frightened eyes stared, unblinking, at her monarch. Still as a statue, she couldn't have looked more flabbergasted if Andraste herself had appeared and begun standing on her head.

"Oh, Maker," Lyra sighed, turning back to the assassin. "Zevran?"

"She is a woman, just as you are, my Kallian." Zevran reached through the bars, wishing more than anything he could take his love's hand in his own. "She is a warrior, just as you are, and she brings you healing - do not refuse her. She means well."

Kallian's fingers twitched as Lyra offered the flask once more, then she snatched it and drank deeply. Relaxation spread over her pained features, her heavy gulps draining the rest of the precious fluid. One arm dragged across her mouth as she thrust the flask back at the queen, who tucked it safely into her cloak once more. Wariness replaced the shock, and Kallian scooted to the back of the cell, distrust masking her beautiful features.

"I came today to find out the truth of what happened," Lyra said then. "In your own words. There's all sorts of rumors flying about - we heard the formal bit from Kylon, but I need to know. Alistair needs to know. Please, Kallian... Zevran." She glanced from elf to elf, her eyes entreating. "Your lives depend upon it."

Kallian threw Zevran a glance, her distrustful eyes flicking from him to Lyra and back again.

"I know the first part, so we can skip that," Lyra continued. "Leliana told me what happened in the Alienage. You have no idea how worried I was when she didn't show up at the ball..." The sad ghost of a smile teased the queen's mouth. "We had some excitement of our own to contend with."

Her words put Zevran on instant alert. "What happened?"

"Empress Celene tried to poison Alistair."

Zevran swore.

"By kissing him."

Zevran swore again, with more feeling than before. Such was his frustration that he forgot Kallian sitting in the corner, drinking in every word. "This is exactly what I was afraid of. And I would wager that Alistair never even suspected."

"None of us did," Lyra agreed. "You were right... we need those guards."

"And I am in prison," Zevran grumbled. "What royal magic can you work to get us out?"

Lyra hesitated. "It doesn't look good, Zev. Alistair just passed that law - the one about elves openly carrying weapons - and it's already caused problems. He's had a bit of trouble with the Chantry lately, and now this... we have to tread very carefully here. I know Kylon wants to question you further, but the nobility are crying out for blood."

"Vaughan was a cursed rapist," Zevran said through grit teeth. "Why anyone should be punished for his death-"

"His death, maybe not. But his father's... what in the Maker's cold void happened, Zevran?"

Zevran blinked, taken aback. "Arl Urien? He is dead?"

"He was found in his room, as if asleep, his throat sliced open." Lyra's sharp eyes bored through him. "You didn't know of his death?"

"I walked into the manse and saw Kallian and the girls surrounded by the corpses of Vaughan and his friends. Ten minutes later I was being carted to prison with a stone-sized lump on my head. Why would anyone kill Arl Urien?"

He was interrupted by the tiny tink of a pebble dropping to the floor. Zevran's gaze flew to Kallian, whose idle fingers scooped the pebble back up, only to drop it again. With a hefty sigh, Kallian huddled herself into a ball, her arms wrapping around her knees. Their continued silence drew her attention a moment later. "What?"

"Did you kill him?"

Kallian gasped at him, indignant. "What are you saying?"

"Kallian, we have to know," Lyra said. "An Arl and his only son lie dead, and you were in the house where they died, covered in blood and holding a dagger. The city guard reported that you insisted you were the only one who did any killing. So..." she allowed the words to trail away.

Kallian gaped. "I never did any such thing!" Her eyes flashed. "Why would I kill anyone other than Vaughan? Arl Urien never gave the elves any trouble... well, not beyond anything any normal human would do. Not like Vaughan. Urien was just an old man!"

"He was in power," Lyra pointed out. "He ruled Denerim - and by extension, the Alienage - for many years. Your whole lifetime. It would have been easy enough for you to make sure both of them were dead-"

"It's a filthy lie!" Kallian spat through clenched teeth. Even in the low light her eyes shimmered with righteous anger. "Vaughan deserved to be gutted, he had it coming to him, and I'd kill him again without a second though. But I would never murder anyone who didn't deserve it - especially an old man asleep in his bed!"

"You have to admit it looks bad," Lyra pointed out. "Can you offer me any proof that you didn't do it?"

"How about 'I've never killed anyone in cold blood before'," Kallian said snidely. "Can you say the same, majesty?"

Lyra's compassionate eyes turned to stone.

"Kallian speaks the truth," Zevran put in. "Bella flor-"

"Be that as it may." Frost rimed each word. "It doesn't look good. I'll do what I can to get you out, Zevran. As for Kallian... it may not be that simple."

"I don't care," Kallian snarled. "Lock me up. It's no worse than what you shem have always done to us. I suppose you're going to revoke the law, too?"

"No, the law stands." Lyra's steady gaze drilled into the defiant elf. "Alistair is a man of his word. Elves will retain the right to carry weaponry and join the army and the guard. It's past time they were allowed to do so." Her judgmental eyes slid over Kallian. "There are bad apples in any bushel. It's only a matter of finding them before they can spoil the rest."

Kallian glowered, her fingers wrapping around the bars of her cell. "You don't know me, human."

"And I never shall, if your attitude fails to improve." Lyra flashed an imperious glare at the girl, turning then to Zevran. "Give me a day. I'll get you out of here."

"I cannot leave," Zevran insisted. "Not without Kallian."

"Then trust me when I say you'll hang with her." Lyra's words were dipped with pain. "Don't make that choice, Zev... we all love you too much to see you destroy yourself that way." Gentle fingers reached out to touch his face, and then the queen was gone, disappearing back through the door but leaving the lamp behind.

"Hang?!" Kallian squeaked. "She can't mean it! I'm innocent!"

Zevran's stomach churned. "Please, Kallian, tell me you did not kill the Arl." If she had committed such a crime, there would be no saving her. Zevran had hoped to cobble together enough evidence to prove self defense, but this...

"What?! Of course I didn't!" Kallian cried. "I killed the ones who attacked me, who tried to hurt Shianni and Nesiara! That's all!"

"Then believe me, my blossom. I will not rest until you walk free."

Kallian slumped away from the bars, her face bleak. "What can you do? You're just an elf... and she's a human, with all the power. And I actually thought... wait." Recognition sparked in her eyes, and she rose up on her knees, her fingers lifting to touch the cold metal once more. "Wait... she knew you."

Zevran swallowed, his heart flinching at Kallian's accusing tone. Mind racing, he forced a chuckle. "Of course Queen Lyra knows me. I am Lord Oghren's servant, and in that role I have waited upon her many times."

"No." Kallian shook her head, her knuckles whitening as her grip on the bars tightened. "She knew you. And you knew her. You called her something - bella something. Like a nickname. And-" A maelstrom of emotions danced over her face. Betrayal, confusion, realization. "She was way too friendly. What did she mean, 'we all love you too much?' Who's we, Antiva?"

"The household," Zevran said, desperate. "Lord Oghren, Anders. King Alistair has grown fond of me, as well-"

"Bullshit!" Kallian cried. "She said - damn it! What did she say? Something about how a healer wanted to come see you? What human healer sends potions to a lowly elven servant? Why should they care so much? And you talked to her about guards of some kind? Like... what, you're a damned advisor?" Kallian's voice rose another octave. "What's going on, Zevran?"

"Nothing, my blossom! I am a simple manservant. I have... charisma, charm. Many people love me. Did you not fall prey to this yourself?"

"Too much so," she snapped in a pained voice. "No one is that charming. You're lying to me. Aren't you?"

The half second of silence that followed was one half second too long. "Kallian-"

"Damn it! You are!" The raw shredding of tears had infiltrated her voice, and the sound tore Zevran's heart in two. "I knew this was all too good to be true! I knew it!"

Kallian buried her face in her hands, shrinking away from her prison and his hand that reached out.

"Please, my blossom," Zevran said desperately. His eyes raked the bars, seeking the laughable lock. A mere keyhole, large enough to drive a wagon through, simple enough for even a babe in arms. Patting his pockets, he reached instead behind his head and slid free the hairpin he kept tucked into one of his braids. Silly, some of the Crows had said, but when one had been stripped of one's lockpicks, having a hidden length of metal had often proved invaluable.

Zevran paused for a moment, cooling his need to rush to her. No sound echoed from the outer chamber, and so he made quick work of the lock, testing his door for unoiled hinges half a heartbeat later. Indeed, creaky as an old woman. Zev slipped through as soon as he'd widened the space enough, then opened her lock in half an instance.

Kallian's eyes snapped up as her lock clicked open. "Holy shit," she breathed. "What-"

"You are right," he said in a crisp voice. "I am not as I appear. I have many skills, I have done many things and been many places. But one thing is certain, my darling. You are the thing I care for most in the world, and I would move heaven and earth to ensure your safety."

Her lower lip vanished between her teeth, her suspicious eyes shadowed by lashes dappled with wetness. "So tell me the truth. ...who are you?"

"First, Kallian... please. May I hold you in my arms?"

She shook her head, scooting herself back on the stone. The trust that had so often sparkled in her eyes was gone, replaced by steely guard. Her arms wound around her knees once more. "Talk first."

Zevran's eyes fell shut, an apprehensive breath slumping his shoulders. The moment of... well, truth. And it was every bit as frightening as he'd been dreading.

Graceful as a shadowcat, he folded himself down to sit cross-legged before her. Perhaps if he simply told her, as quickly as possible. "My name, you know. I am Zevran Arainai, born in Antiva, just as I told you when first we met. What you do not know is... I am... not the servant of Lord Oghren. At a young age, I became an Antivan Crow - an... assassin. I came to Ferelden on a contract; to kill the Wardens Lyra Cousland and Alistair Theirin."

The whites of Kallian's eyes showed, ringing vivid green. "The king and queen," she croaked.

"Indeed. Though they were not such when first we met." Zevran detailed his ambush, how Lyra had been wounded by a poisoned arrow, how Alistair had been inches from killing him until Leliana intervened. How they'd marched him back to Redcliffe, how he'd spent the night in the dungeon, awaiting news. He left out how he'd been torn between worry that the young Warden would die from his poison, and worry that she would not. He spoke of Wynne's saving of Lyra's life, and how he'd begun his adventures with the Wardens and their strange party. He told her of Orzammar, and meeting Oghren.

"Not 'Lord Oghren', then," Kallian uttered, her cool voice chilling his heart.

"Ahh... no."

Kallian waved an impatient hand, inviting him to continue.

By the time he'd detailed the last, how he'd helped the Wardens kill the Archdemon, how he'd sworn to himself to aid the new rulers in every way that he could, Kallian had relaxed her posture. Her eyes had turned downward, one idle finger tracing patterns upon the floor. His words ceased, and her silence continued, stretching out and coiling around them both until Zevran felt as if it might choke him.

"Please, my pear blossom. Please, say something."

Still, silence. Zevran was on the verge of crawling across the floor to take her hands in his - when his sharp ears caught the faint echo of boots in the outer hall.

"Stay there," he hissed, slipping through her door and pulling it shut. The lock engaged with the clank of iron, and another breath saw him safe in his own cell, secured behind metal bars.