After the spat they'd had following the festival, Zevran wanted to speak to Jessimyn, but he wanted her to come to him. He knew he had made her angry, but he'd only said what he thought she needed to hear. Zevran couldn't understand why she put up with Alistair. Sure, he could understand the initial attraction. Alistair was handsome enough, and he'd always had that charming, naive innocence working for him. However, as Zevran had been forced to watch their awkward courtship, he couldn't believe that she had the patience for him. Zevran certainly wouldn't have turned Jessimyn down had she invited him back to her tent. Nor could he understand how Alistair had just let her leave after his coronation, especially if Alistair truly loved her as much as he'd always claimed to.

But too many times over the next couple of days, Zevran found himself wondering what he would have done, had he been in Alistair's place. He found his fascination in the subject to be unsettling, so he did what he could to put Jessimyn from his mind. Most of his days were spent in the yards, working with the possibles. That first day, they had pestered him with questions about the festival, but he refused to answer them, chastising them for not staying focused on their training.

It was a couple days later when Jessimyn finally made it out to the practice yards, fully dressed in her armor, to watch him train. The possibles all stopped and stared at her when she arrived, and Zevran could tell that irritated her. They'd always treated her with a sort of awed reverence, but this was different. It wasn't a loss of respect, but it was almost as if they didn't quite take her seriously anymore, as if seeing her dressed up as a lady made them forget she was still a deadly fighter.

She jumped over the railing and walked to the center of the yard. Without preamble, she said, "I want to see how your training is coming along, so I will spar each of you. Eli, you're first."

The boys exchanged glances, but then Eli moved to face her as Zevran and the others moved to the sides to watch. She made short work of Eli, disarming him almost immediately before hitting him in the neck with her practice sword. Will was next, and he was beaten almost as quickly. He made an awkward lunge at her, but Jessimyn ducked and kicked his feet out from under him before bringing her sword down on his helmet. Kellen lasted a little longer, but when he tried to thrust his shield at her, Jessimyn danced out of the way and was able to get behind him, jabbing him in the back with the tip of her practice dagger.

Tivven at least gave her a bit of a fight. He was quick with his shield, managing to block the blows she was raining down on him, but he made few offensive moves. He managed to catch her arm with the corner of her shield, and Zevran thought he had her as she dropped to the ground, but she was too fast. She struck Tivven's leg with a loud thwack, causing him to jerk to one side. The swing he'd been throwing at her missed, and she hit him twice more, once on his sword arm, and then on his head.

While watching her move, Zevran found himself admiring her. Jessimyn was quick and limber, and she seemed to be able to slip out of any tight spot. But what made her spectacular was her confidence. Zevran had seen too many people die, some at his own hand, because they hesitated in a critical moment. Jessimyn seemed to be able to spot a weakness and attack it without pause. It never ceased to amaze him that she was a noblewoman, but he certainly wouldn't hold that against her.

Once Tivven was bested, Jessimyn threw her practice weapons to the ground. "I should send all of you home," she growled at the possibles.

"But... you don't even fight fair," Will muttered.

In a flash, Jessimyn was on him, her face only inches from his. "You want to be a Grey Warden. Do you even know what that means? It means you give your life to fight against the darkspawn threat. Do you think darkspawn fight fair? Are they going to send a general out to treat with you, should your army be facing theirs across a field? Are they going to salute before they attack?"

She raised her voice, and Zevran could tell she was angry. "We are not preparing for a tourney. If you are here because you think you'll find glory or fame, I'd suggest packing your things now. There will be no fair damsel standing nearby to give you her favor. There will be no purse to take home to your family, as there will be no family, outside of the Wardens. And there will be no excuses. If you're too scared to fight me, how will you face an ogre? Or a desire demon? If you're not willing to sacrifice everything for this, then stop wasting my time and go home to your mothers."

A dramatic sigh came from behind Zevran, and he turned to see Jakob standing there, a strange smile on his face. "She may very well be the perfect woman, don't you think?" He grinned.

Zevran couldn't tell if the man was being serious or not, but he doubted he was. He chose to ignore the question. Not that he could have answered it anyway. That was the beginning of a dangerous path. "You didn't think so the last time she spoke to you so," he said.

Jakob just laughed and jumped over the railing, striding to the center of the yards. "Shall we show them what a real fight looks like, then?"

Jessimyn gave him an annoyed look. "If you're so eager to help out, then you can run them through some drills." She stalked away, and Zevran almost laughed at the disappointed look on Jakob's face.

It was still a few days after that when Jessimyn finally spoke to Zevran. He'd been having breakfast, a week after the festival, and she sat down at his table. "What do you have planned for today?" She asked.

He shrugged. "I had a message yesterday that the armor we sent for repair was ready, so I was going to go pick it up later. Did you need something?"

She shook her head. "No. Let me know when you're going to leave, though, and I'll go with you. I could use a chance to stretch my legs. I've been feeling a little cooped up lately."

Zevran nodded at her, and she left the hall. Well, it was a start at least. He suddenly wondered if she'd been waiting for him to apologize to her. He would not, of course, as everything he had said was absolutely true. The sooner she realized this, the better off she would be. But why do you even care so much? A little voice asked inside his head. He refused to let himself dwell on such things and focused on his breakfast. When he finished his meal, he found Jessimyn outside talking with Jakob.

"...but why do I have to do it?" Jakob was saying.

"Because I told you to. Stop arguing with me about it," Jessimyn said, her hands on her hips.

Jakob just muttered something under his breath and stalked off, leaving Jessimyn to glare after him. She realized Zevran was standing there and nodded to him.

"Jakob causing you trouble?" He asked.

"Does he ever do anything else?"

Zevran smiled at her. "We can go now to the armorer's, if you like. It's hot already, and it's just going to get hotter."

Jessimyn nodded. "Very well."

As they made their way out of the compound and through the first few alleys, neither of them spoke. Finally, Jessimyn said, "The Landsmeet should be underway right now."

Zevran eyed her. "Are we reduced to idle chitchat, then?"

"I prefer it to the alternative, I think." When Zevran was about to respond, she spoke over him. "I don't want to hear about how you're just looking out for me, or how you have my best interests at heart. I am an adult, as everyone has seemed to forget, and I can make my own decisions."

"Of course," Zevran said.

They walked in silence a while longer, Zevran glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She didn't look angry, which was good, but she might become so if he were to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, which is what he felt like doing just then.

"Stop," said Zevran, placing a hand on Jessimyn's arm.

"What is it?"

He'd caught some sort of movement to their side, and he looked around. With a grimace, he said, "I think we are surrounded."

As he spoke, men appeared from all sides. They were all dressed in flimsy armor, carrying cheap swords, but there were quite a few of them, eight by Zevran's count. The way they stalked towards them made their intentions clear. He heard Jessimyn draw her weapons as he did the same. "Just like old times," Zevran said with a laugh as they stood back to back.

Then the first person charged. "Get 'm!"

Jessimyn and Zevran fought as two arms of one body. Zevran heard the clangs of metal on metal coming from behind him. He knew he could trust her to protect his back, just as she trusted him with hers. Zevran cut down the first man quickly, his sword easily slicing through the leather over his chest. Another man thrust a sword at him, but Zevran deflected it with the dagger in his offhand, bringing his sword slashing across the man's throat. A sword flew at his arm, and Zevran took the hit with a slight wince, grateful for the armor that absorbed most of the blow. Another slash came at his head, but Zevran ducked quickly, then thrust his sword into the man's stomach. He fell, taking Zevran's sword with him. The dagger was shifted to his main hand right as the fourth man came at him.

The man had a shield and deflected what Zevran threw at him. Having only the dagger shortened his reach, and Zevran found himself dancing back to keep from being hit. After ducking a blow that came very close to slicing the top of his head off, Zevran charged. The surprise on the man's face almost made Zevran laugh as he shoved the shield back into the man's face, knocking him to the ground. Zevran went down with him, jumping on top of the shield as he plunged his dagger into the man's throat. He turned around quickly, only to see the last man who had been fighting Jessimyn fall. He went to retrieve his sword from the third man, who was still alive.

Zevran kneeled on his chest, his knee right next to where the sword was piercing his gut. "Who are you?" He demanded. "Who sent you."

Blood bubbled from the man's mouth as he tried to speak. "...Crimson... Oars... you..." He choked and said no more. Zevran growled, jerking the sword free.

"Zev?"

Her voice sounded... off. Zevran turned to see Jessimyn standing, her hands pressed to her chest. There was blood all down her front, trailing down her right leg, and she looked pale. He rushed to her.

"I think... I'm hit," she said, trying to smile before she collapsed.

Zevran just barely managed to catch her. "Jess!" He cried, but she was unconscious. It was clear she'd taken a sword straight through her chest, just below her right breast, and she was losing blood fast. He lifted her as gently as he could before rushing back to the compound. She made soft, pained sounds as he ran, and he did everything he could, trying not to bounce her. Jessimyn's face was as pale as paper, and by the time they made it back to the compound, he was covered in her blood.

"Jakob," Zevran yelled at the first person he spotted. "Get Kyran. Hurry!"

For once, Jakob didn't protest, and he was off running for the mage. The two returned quickly, and Zevran saw all of the other men pouring out of the barracks. He reluctantly moved back as Kyran knelt at her side.

"Jakob," he said again. "Go tell..." Who? He was going to say Alistair, but changed it at the last minute. "Go find her brother. Teyrn Cousland. He should be at the Landsmeet." Alistair would be at the Landsmeet, too, so he would still find out what happened.

Again, Jakob ran off without comment. Zevran turned back to Kyran. "Is she..."

"She's lost a lot of blood," said the mage. "And this is not a simple wound. I've mostly stopped the bleeding for now, but we need to move her to her room. This... will not be easy to heal... if I can heal it at all." A look of anguish crossed Kyran's face.

Without a word, Zevran gently lifted her and carried her to her barracks, Kyran hurrying in front of him to open the doors. Thankfully, the others all stayed outside, and once Zevran placed Jessimyn on her bed, he took a step back.

Don't die, he thought. You can't die. He watched as Kyran stood over her and realized he'd never felt more helpless in all his life.