Title: Snow and Ice

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Sexual content, minor language, violence, blood, use of alcohol

Summary: Once upon a time, a maleficar had stopped the blight. Afterwards, she'd left for the colder North, leaving love for a life of loneliness and wandering. No one was to look for her. So why was Alistair calling her back? Zev/Surana

Author's Note: Thank you for reading. Review please.


All this feels strange and untrue

And I won't waste a minute without you.

-Open your eyes, Snow Patrol


Chapter 29

She seemed to be falling forever, the last remnants of Ikilai's filthy, white-hot tentacles melting from her body as she tumbled through what felt like molasses. Try as she might, she couldn't move. Her eyes wouldn't open, yet she knew she was falling. The last of the pain was ebbing away into a slow, pulsing sensation. Vrinda and Ferias's voices were completely gone as though her ears had been plugged. Ikilai wasn't even whispering in her mind anymore, and she felt unusually light. Yet, despite all these feelings, it was as though she were missing a limb. The usual awareness of her surroundings that she normally had was gone. There was just her physical shell able to take in what it could. The thought frightened her.

Then there was only a softness beneath her. Languidly, she stretched her fingertips, feeling warm fur and blankets. Sound came next, the crackling of a fire, deep breathing somewhere, distant chatter and explosive laughter. The smell of blood and dried meats and wine filled the air, a bit of delicate perfume and sweat mixing in perfect harmony. Slowly, she opened her eyes, finding it difficult beyond belief. The second they were open, though, she scrambled backward.

It was the room at the castle, to be sure. More specifically, it was her and Zevran's room at Alistair's castle that she was in, sparkling new with recent furniture bought from Orlais, her armor buffed and shining on its stand, new books still wet with preservative. Syn was lying on his side in the corner by the fire, snuffling softly in his sleep, one paw gently scratching at the ground. Glancing down, she immediately hugged the comforter to her chest, realizing she was naked. But then she pulled the comforter back and glanced down. At least half of her tattoos were gone, the large scar that ran parallel to her stomach healed as though it had never been there, skin much lighter as though she'd recently taken a bath in milk.

Where was she? Or more appropriately, when was she?

Leaping out of the bed, she nearly tripped as the blankets tangled around her ankles to the bathroom. There, she stared hard in the mirror. She was younger, that much was certain. It hadn't been until two years after her departure from Ferelden that she'd made a deal for everlasting youth. Fewer crinkles around her eyes lent a delicate curve to each almond shape, her mouth in a perfect heart, pink and kiss-bruised. Her nose wasn't as pointed, hair long and curling as it had been when she was an apprentice. She'd grown it out after the battle with the archdemon.

The intimidating light in her eyes was gone completely. Instead of the startling blue she'd gotten used to after all the years, they were a softer, stormy color. Deep and very beautiful, holding a superior knowledge despite the youth of her body. It was the face of an elf who had seen much and hadn't let it affect her. It was her from a time before the weight of the world had crashed on top of her, and, too weak to dig her way out, she had let it crush her entirely.

Someone opened the door to her room, a blast of cooler air forcing a shiver out of her, and a familiar and missed voice drifted through. She peeked around the corner. "Ha! How I love the nobles! You should have seen their faces when I walked out there without my shirt," Zevran joked, tossing a thumb at the door behind him. He sank his teeth into an apple with a sharp snap.

"Zevran..." she whispered and flew into his arms. Startled, he stumbled backward a few steps but hooked his arms around her waist anyway.

"What a welcoming party," he commented. He kissed her forehead. "I was only gone for a few minutes."

Her trembling hands went to his face, feeling the rough hair that had grown there, his smooth skin. She traced the marking on his face, biting her lip to keep from crying. It was true. He was really there. Pressed against her, his heart beat slow and warm and alive. Confusion spread across his face. Tentatively, she kissed his mouth. Sweet wine and apples and Zevran. "Creators," she gasped. "You're really alive."

"As I have been for some time now, and you'll be the first to know should that change. Is this some new sort of game you've come up with?" he asked, looking at her as though she'd grown a second head. "I'm not adverse to trying something new, and I am proud of you. Leliana was just saying to me that you lacked imagination."

Leliana was still in the castle. Elda put a hand over her stomach, glancing down. Was she pregnant yet? There seemed to be a tiny bulge, a hardness there, but she couldn't be certain.

"Did you want to go back down the celebration? A king only gets married a virgin once, you know," he laughed, taking another bit of his apple, her strangeness already forgotten. An arm snaked around her waist. "Though we could stay up here."

Her head snapped up. "Alistair got married today?"

"Did you try to out-drink Oghren again?" he demanded a bit worriedly. "My dear, you're just not up to the task. There is no way that an elf can-"

"Shh," she whispered, putting a finger to his lips. She hugged him and buried her head into his chest, breathing in his scent. So she was pregnant, although only by a few weeks. Everything still felt like a dream sequence. The fact that Zevran was alive, that Rinna was alive, was almost too much to take in.

But the price...

"Zevran, is Wynne here?" she asked. The price had been steep indeed. That acute awareness of all things magical seemed to be gone. It was as though she were standing on only one leg, off balance. Wynne could tell her if all of her powers were gone, though she suspected it was completely true.

Again he looked at her strangely. "You were just speaking with her. Are you all right?"

Reaper's vestments were on the floor, and she bent to pick up the rest of her clothes. Stuffing them into a ball on the bed, she began pulling them on frantically. "I've got to talk with her." After she had slipped on her underclothes, Zevran put an arm on her shoulder.

"You need to talk with me. Did I miss something?" he was holding out her staff with one hand.

She yanked the rest of her clothes on and then sat on the bed to pull on her shoes. "Yes, but I'll explain it to you," Elda promised hurriedly. Then she stood up and started for the door. Pausing on the threshold, she turned back and stalked up to him. "Um, come with me. I'd rather not leave you alone."

"If you'd like," he responded. A crushing disappointment settled in her gut as she looked at the staff. It was a different weapon than the one she'd just been using, lacking the lyrium crust and polished indention for a handle. It was the weapon she'd used to kill the archdemon and protect Alistair and Zevran and Oghren from the fiery dragon's breath. Never again would she be able to use it.

Using the back of her hand, she pushed it away from her. "Get dressed," she murmured. "There's something important I need to explain to you all, you especially."

Talking with him was harder than it should have been. Not only did her throat keep clogging up with emotion, but it was also hard to think that this was a younger man. Zevran was all of a sudden six years younger than her, less experienced in almost everything. He didn't know about all the pain she'd caused him. This was a man who'd yet to kill his former masters, become friends with Alistair, and mourn for the loss of their love. He didn't know that soon he would have a daughter or that in the days to come he would discover the art of tattooing and they would mark each other. Creators, he was still laughing with relief to have survived the Blight at all, drunk on their lovemaking and the wine that never seemed to run out. He thought he was in heaven, and she would have to burden him almost immediately.

But I won't run away, she said to herself. I won't do that to him again.

And she wouldn't. Zevran was more of a novice than before and less mature, surely, but he still felt the same deep inside. She would tell him of the child growing in her womb because she owed him that much. She owed Rinna that much. Before, there had been a rift between father and daughter, things unsaid, times when he should have been there. This time Rinna would grow up with the love of a father in her life. This time Elda wouldn't shoulder the burden alone, even if it was hard, even if he rejected her. Zevran had given his life for her. She owed him the chance if nothing else.

And if he did reject the child, then she would always be there. Forever she would wait in the wings, and Rinna would to. If time was needed, she would give him that. They had all the time in the world.

Meanwhile, Zevran was pulling on a shirt and buckling his leather armor on over it. His daggers were polished and leaning against the fireplace, flames reflected in the shining surfaces. She cast a forlorn glance at her staff and then began sizing up the weapons. Zevran would have to train her extensively on the use of such things. Of course she had basic training. After traveling with an assassin and a bard, she had picked up a few tricks. Knowing the basics of using weapons had helped on a few occasions but building upon that would take time. She'd have to rely heavily on Zevran and the rest of her friends to accomplish what she had in mind.

He stood there in his Antivan boots and Dalish gloves and dragon scale armor, arms crossed, waiting. Smiling sadly, she put a hand on his chest, patting at imaginary dirt. "I love you," she told him.

"Oh, that word," he murmured. "This must be serious."

"More serious than you can ever know," she answered before leaning up to kiss him. "Now come on."


"I do not understand it," Wynne declared worriedly. "I can sense absolutely no mana in you at all. It is as if you were never a mage to begin with."

"That was the point," Elda sighed, rubbing at her arm. She looked at Zevran who hadn't even glanced at her since she'd finished the story.

"You've lost all your magic," he whispered. "For me."

"And the baby," Leliana added thoughtfully.

Elda sighed. He had handled it well so far. The shock of the pregnancy had worn off quickly as he'd already suspected as much. The rest of it was a little harder to swallow. To think that in the future he would die if she left him...well, it certainly was putting things in perspective. As she had been telling it, the wild truth of it had dawned on her. No one in a million years should have believed her, but they all did. Wynne, in her quiet wisdom, had accepted it with the bow of her head, even her traitorous actions. Alistair had spluttered a bit, asking question after question, but in his eyes it was apparent that he knew she was telling the truth. Blind in her faith, Leliana was only focused on the new future and the baby growing steadily inside of Elda. Zevran...he hadn't said much. One of the reasons she'd fallen in love with him was his careful way of hiding emotions. She admired that. For once, however, she wanted him to tell her how he felt.

As for not being able to use magic, when Wynne had told her initially, she'd felt a crushing disappointment. Acceptance of the situation was there, but it was buried deep. A part of her had hoped her magic might have still been there, but that was a foolish notion from the start. Ikilai would have taken his payment, of course. Still, in comparison to what she had lost to what she had gained, there was very little regret. The more she thought of Ferias and Vrinda, even Greagoir, the more she felt that staying out of their lives would be more beneficial.

"I made a decision, and I'll live with the consequences," Elda told him before looking to Alistair. She'd deal with Zevran later. "But to make sure that nothing like that ever happens again, there are a few things I need to do."

"Like what?" Leliana asked, surprised.

Alistair nodded. "I'll help however I can."

"Actually," she smiled uncertainly, "I'll need Antivan expertise for this. Crow expertise as a matter of fact." She shot a glance at Zevran who raised an eyebrow.

"Crow expertise?" he murmured aloud. "Oh! That would be me." Stepping past Leliana, he slipped an arm around her waist. "Where are we going?"

"How about a bloodbath?" she whispered in his pointed ear. "I was thinking we might spill a little Crow blood in Antiva City."

"See? This is why I like you," he laughed. "Always game for a little fun." Those words had been spoken just after Alistair's coronation when she had suggested that a bloodbath would be a fun idea. His large hands went around her waist and picked her up, twirling her around once. She yelped in surprise, but threw her arms around his neck.

Zevran's kiss was sweeter than honey.

"We're going to hunt down Alaeze," Elda said once he'd set her down. "And I'm going to need your help, Leliana. And if anyone can reach him, I'd like Oghren to come along as well."

Alistair said, "I'll have someone send a message to him right away."

Leliana was chewing on her bottom lip. "Elda, you're completely powerless. And with the baby..." she trailed off.

Zevran put a palm to her stomach. "That's right," he said. "You are carrying my legacy now. What are we to do about that?"

"Legacy," Alistair snorted.

Covering his hand with hers and lacing their fingers, she said, "That's not going to be a problem. I'm only a few weeks along, and I'll wear my armor."

"Endurance training," Wynne mumbled.

Leliana glanced at her. "What?"

"You will have to do some endurance training," Wynne repeated a bit louder. She was speaking to Zevran. "You'll have to teach her to be a rogue now. Obviously, with ever last bit of her mana gone, you'll have to teach her how to defend herself. Without her powers as an arcane warrior, that armor will be far too heavy."

"That's right," Elda sighed. "I could channel my magic to balance the weight. It wasn't real endurance at all. But we don't have time for that."

"If what you said is true," Leliana gripped her arm, "then this Alaeze will only be about ten years old. Surely you can't think to kill a child."

"To protect our own?" Zevran asked, eyes dark. "Then why not?"

"She's no older than Connor was," Alistair whispered sadly.

"And you did not kill him," Wynne offered.

"I don't know what I'm going to do, yet," Elda snapped at them. "I don't know how long she's been with the Crows. All I know is that I have to get her away from them so that she can never attack me again."

"If they choose someone else?" Zevran asked lightly, toying with a strand of her hair. "Contracts can be passed down."

"Then we'll deal with that," she answered. "I don't have all the answers. Alaeze was the one that killed Zevran. If we can somehow eliminated her as an opposing factor..."

"By kidnapping her perhaps? Taking her to Ferelden?" Leliana wondered aloud.

"She can't be any different than a normal ten year old," Alistair argued. "Why not just keep her here with us? That way we can keep an eye on her."

Zevran frowned. "You want my future murderer in the castle? And we were just becoming good friends!" His head rolled around to give Elda a forlorn glance. "And you wonder why I want to go back to Antiva."

Elda shook her head but otherwise ignored Zevran. "I think that's actually a good idea."

"Pardon?" Zevran protested.

"She'll never be able to get to you," Elda told him sadly, "because you and I are leaving Ferelden for good."


So, what do you think? Have I ruined it for all of you? Haha. Thanks for reading. Review please.