Fair warning for suicidal thoughts and just general not-nice-shit.

Forgotten But Not Lost.

~Set a few days before the last chapter~

With a bitter snarl, Zevran swatted Rinna's hands away. He could see fear widen those bright wet eyes of hers. They flickered pleadingly across his face, searching desperately for some way to convince him.

"Please Zevran," she begged. "Don't do this. It's me."

He hated the way his gut twisted at the sound of her voice cracking. Hated that he had allowed himself to care for her at all. Jaw clenched, he shook his head, taking a step back away from her grabbing hands. A sob fell from her trembling lips and her hands fell to the dirt of the floor where she knelt pathetically before him.

"I love you," she whispered up at him. "I did not betray you."

He laughed loudly, head thrown back, even as his heart clenched at her words. He wanted to believe her. But he did not.

"Even if that is true," he said as he stared down at her, "I do not care."

He heard the hitch of her breath in her throat, saw the widening of her eyes. He had hurt her with his words. Good, he thought harshly, for she had hurt him too.

He gave Taliesen a nod. The warrior stepped forward and grabbed her by that favoured braid of hers. He yanked her head back, making her yelp, but the sound stuttered off into a gurgled gasp as Taliesen brought his knife clean across her throat.

Zevran watched, staring down at her wide and slowly dulling eyes as blood flowed freely from her neck. His lips twisted and he spat on her, disgusted that she would betray the Crows. That she would betray him.

"But I didn't," her voice suddenly echoed in his mind, cold and full of hatred.

He woke with a gasp, his eyes flying open.

He recognised the bed he was in immediately. It was one he and Rinna often visited together for weekends by the sea. The doors that led out to the decking were open and the net curtains billowed in the warm Antivan breeze. Something shifted next to him and his gaze fell on the stirring form of Rinna. He let out a relived sigh at seeing her alive and well. One of her eyes squinted open to look at him as a soft hand slid up his still rapidly rising and falling chest, coming to a stop over his pounding heart.

"Another nightmare?" she asked, voice slightly mumbled by the pillow.

"Mmmh," he hummed back, still disturbed by the images he had seen, by the things he had done to the woman he loved.

She sensed his dark mood and sat up more fully, a worried frown furrowing her brows. "Tell me."

He joined her in sitting against the headboard and found her hand with his, needing to hold her. He let out a sigh as he nodded. "You died," he said plainly. "We killed you, Taliesen and I." He studied her face, watching as her brows lifted slightly. He focused his gaze back on their entwined hands. "I thought you had betrayed us, betrayed me. So, I let him slit your throat."

Her hand tightened its grip on his and her gaze flicked across his face, eyes searching, just as they had in his dream. "I would never betray you, Zev," she said firmly. He nodded, his mouth suddenly dry.

"I know this, amore mia."

She smiled and leant in to kiss him.

He moaned into the contact of her soft lips against his, some of the tension from his nightmare getting washed away by the warmth of her mouth. He wrapped his arms around her slender waist, tugging her closer to him so she straddled him, their bodies flush together. Her long hair tickled his knuckles as he slid his fingers up into her hair and fisted the loose tresses, pulling her head back to deepen the kiss.

He lost himself to the taste of her, the smell of her, the feel of her.

She was alive, she was here, and she was okay.

Her teeth sank down into his lip, drawing blood – and a moan – from his mouth. Her tongue slipped past his kiss-swollen lips to tangle with his own and he happily hummed, letting her control the kiss for the moment.

It was the sudden return of that metallic taste of blood that had him frowning, however. He could feel it smeared across his upper lip so he pulled back, briefly, to wipe it away. A startled gasp left his lips when his hand came back coated in blood – much more blood than he had expected from a simple love bite.

Rinna shuddered, drawing his gaze back to her, back to the blood now gurgling out of her mouth and running down her chin. She collapsed against him, choking as he caught her, held her. He stared in horror at the gash along her neck, at the blood running freely from it, his hands automatically lifting to try to stem the flow of blood. It was no use, though, the wound was too deep.

More blood bubbled out of her mouth as she tried to talk and he tightened his clammy grip on her, his arms shaking as he held her tight to him. He dragged his gaze away from the wound, from where his hands desperately tried to hold back the blood, to look into her eyes. And his breath caught in his throat at the sight of the absolute hatred in them.

"You…you did this," she garbled, choking on her blood, her once beautiful lips twisted into a sickening sneer.

"N-no," he replied shakily. His heart thudded in his chest as terror crept up his spine. "I did not know, Rinna. I thought you had betrayed me." His eyes stung with tears and he tried to blink them away, but it was no use. They fell hot and wet down his cheeks, falling onto her face.

"You killed me." Another shudder, more blood rushing past his fingers. "Spat on me," she hissed. Her eyes narrowed into steely slits. "You deserve death."

There was a dagger in her hands. He did not know where it had come from. But as it came toward him, as it slipped up between his ribs to his pounding heart, he did not flinch or resist.

Zevran awoke screaming and clutching at his aching chest. It felt very much like the knife he had dreamt was stabbing him; he knew it was simply his guilt, however. He closed his eyes, sighing, and then thought better of it, not wishing to see Rinna's dying eyes stare back at him again. He focused instead on getting his breathing back under control, bitterly remembering his Crow training for such things.

It was only then that he noticed his surroundings. It was warm, yes, but there was a great deal more humidity here than he was used to. Antiva always had a much drier heat, one that did not leave you quite so sweaty, not that there was very much wrong with sweat, of course. The room, too, was not the one he recalled falling asleep in. He should have been in the shared dormitory of the Crows outpost he had been stationed at for months, sleeping in the bottom bunk below Taliesen. Instead, he was in a small stone built room, alone.

Light poured in through one long stain-glassed window casting shimmery colour on the grey walls, and, just across from his bed was a small fireplace filled with long-since burned out firewood and ash. It was not impossible he had gone out drinking after finding little chance of sleep—that was how he had spent many nights since Rinna's death, since they found out she had not in fact betrayed them. But he was due to leave for Ferelden soon and he had wanted to sleep at least a little before taking ship. Suicide mission or no, he wanted to put up a good fight against the Wardens before dying and he wouldn't be able to do that hungover or exhausted.

He sat up slowly, wincing as his head throbbed. Odd that he didn't recall drinking the night before, but with this hangover, he could hardly claim otherwise. He rubbed at his temples, sighing heavily. Usually his hangovers left him feeling lethargic and weak, but this time it was only his head that seemed affected by the alcohol he had apparently consumed.

Wearily, he pushed the covers off of himself and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Clothes he assumed were his, yet had never seen before hung on a chair and fine leather boots were tucked underneath it. He stood up to admire the fine armour more closely. It looked well-worn but properly cared for and, interestingly, it was in his size. The gloves, they looked just like…like his mother's had. He frowned, not understanding where such fineries had come from. Was this some sort of apology gift from Taliesen? After all, he had been the one to slide the knife across Rinna's throat. Still, it wasn't like the Crows to hand out gifts; it would be a first, in fact.

The door suddenly opened and, out of instinct, Zevran grabbed the fire iron from next to the fire place and held out in front of him. Standing in the doorway was an older woman. Robes swished around her ankles as she came to a stop just inside the room. Her dark hair was flecked with grey and tied atop her head in a messy bun. The wrinkles around her eyes crinkled as she chuckled at the sight of him. He lifted the fire iron a little higher, trying and failing to look terribly threatening given that he was only in a loose night shirt and smalls.

"Who are you?" he asked, even as he tried to figure out how much of a threat she posed. She was certainly no Crow. She looked like a mage and that made him tighten his grip on his makeshift weapon.

"I'm Bea," she said. "And you are Zevran Arainai, formerly of the Antivan Crows."

He tried to hide his frown even as he replied to her. "Formerly?" he laughed. "No, I am very much still a Crow, cara mia."

She sighed slightly, looking disappointed. "Tell me, what is the last thing you remember before waking up today?"

"I –" He frowned slightly. "I was to assassinate the Grey Wardens of Ferelden."

Her shoulders slumped as her lips pressed into a thin line. "I see. I had hoped you would not lose so much of your memory, or any at all." She shook her head, giving him a sympathetic look. "The year is 9:32 Dragon. You've forgotten two years of your life, sonny."

He let out a short incredulous breath of laughter, but her expression remained grim. If this was some sort of jest by the other Crows, it was one done in poor taste. He was in no mood for such things.

"An amusing joke. Did Taliesen put you up to this in some foolish attempt to lighten my mood?" he asked offhandedly, his voice tinged with bitterness.

"I haven't got a clue who that is, hon." She nodded with her head, drawing his attention to a large book sitting on a dresser at the end of the bed. "Your diary," she explained. "You knew you might lose your memories, so you wrote everything important down. I suggest you give it a read."

He stared at it, scowling, as the woman lingered in the doorway. Could what she said be true? Could any of it? Two years had passed since Rinna had died? He could not wrap his mind around that. The grief, the anger, the guilt clung to him as if it had all just happened yesterday, and it had, more or less. Rinna had been dead a week to him. It was all so fresh in his mind. How could so much time have passed?

"Time passes quickly, it's always ticking away. Blink and its gone," Bea said, making him shiver.

He scowled at her. "Surely you did not just-"

"Read your thoughts?" she laughed out. "You asked me that the first time we met." His scowl deepened, eyes narrowing. Her features softened. "You've been through a lot – but it will sound better coming from yourself," she said with a smile. "Read the journal. Your journal. Then we will talk again." With a nod, she exited the room and closed the door behind her.

He lowered the fire iron, suddenly exhausted, and sat on the edge of the bed. His gaze lingered on the book, on his supposed diary. Curiosity got the better of him and with a thick swallow, he reached over and picked it up.

It looked to be a very new diary and recently placed on the dresser if the lack of dust on it was anything to go by. He ran his fingers over the intricate pattern on its cover, his gut twisting as he suddenly realised it was the tattoo design Rinna had wanted to get; had wanted him to give her. They had drawn it together, two weeks—two years ago, if this Bea woman was to be believed. No other eyes had seen the design. Not even Taliesen's. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and opened it to the first page.

If you are reading this, my very handsome future self, then it means that, quite tragically, your –our – my memories have indeed been lost. A fact which is most inconvenient. Ah, but you must be so confused right now. Although, that does rather depend on just how much of your memory is gone, does it not? And I have no way of knowing just how far back the amnesia goes. So I shall start at the beginning, to be safe. Alas, as much as I would enjoy writing a full biography, because we are so very awesome, I am short on time.

Zevran slammed the book shut, his hands shaking. The words, they sounded like him, that much he would admit. It was even in his own hand. But he could not believe them. Awesome was the last thing he felt right now. Comparing his current state of mind with this… this other him, it seemed an impossibility. He knew further reading might enlighten him as to what had happened, as to how he ended up so cheery, but he could not bring himself to care. Rinna was dead. He was nothing. And all he wanted was for it to end.

If he could not die throwing himself at the fabled Grey Wardens, then he would do so by some other means. There were, after all, numerous ways to take a life; that much he knew well.

He lifted the fire iron and held it over his left arm. It would not take much, he knew. One long cut down the length of his arm would do the trick. And he had more than enough time for it if that woman was to leave him long enough to read this diary. He took a steadying breath. He would see Rinna again soon. Perhaps in death he could earn her forgiveness. He would do that, even if it took an eternity to do so.

The door suddenly flew open, revealing a pretty, young woman. "Really? You're going to do it like that?" she asked, lip twisting disappointedly. "Where's your flair for the dramatic, Zev?" He arched a brow at her, confused. She rolled her eyes then stepped closer, noticing the closed diary on the bed next to him. "Did you even bother to read more than the first page?"

He was about to answer, his ire rising, when, faster than he could react, she snatched the fire iron from his grasp and danced back away from him. Her long brown hair billowed around her with her quick movements and she grinned as he pushed to his feet.

"Hand that back."

She laughed, her green eyes shining in challenge. "Make me, Crow."

His hands clenched at his sides. It was to be a game, then; yet more people making light of this situation. Perhaps they were Crows; they had already proven how little they cared, after all.

"Come on, Zev, you want to die – fight for it," she said with a playful smile.

"Why, so you can continue to mock me?"

"Is that what you think I'm doing, hermoso?"

"Sì," he replied, scowling at her.

She grinned. "Come on, don't be boring. Wouldn't you rather die duelling the world's best master thief? I know I'm not some legendary Warden, but isn't this a better way to die than cutting your wrist open, pajarito?"

He scoffed at the nickname. "And if I win and kill you?" he asked.

"You won't," she laughed. Lightning fast, she landed a hit with the fire iron to his thigh. He hissed in pain and she giggled. "Come on, where is that Antivan pride?"

It was gone the day he allowed Rinna to die, he knew. Still, he did not take kindly to being mocked and laughed at. And he realised that dying could wait; fighting her, getting pay back for her taunting was more tempting right now, and, if it ended with his death, all the better. With a growl, he charged at her.

"Your innuendos have insulted enough people here; might want to put some trousers on!" she called out as she darted back out of the door and ran off.

He grabbed the loose pair of trousers hanging over the chair with an annoyed growl and shrugged them on as he began chasing after her. For a supposed master thief, she was not quiet on her feet, although that may have been purposeful on her part; she was mocking him yet again.

He chased her laughter through the stone corridors, down a set of spiral stairs and then outside into a courtyard. Nobody else was around, only the thief who was standing in the middle of the yard, grinning. She tossed the fire iron aside and started tying her long hair up in a messy ponytail.

"Are you ready to get your arse kicked, little Crow?"

He felt a feral sort of smirk curl his lips. "We'll see who kicks more ass, gattina."

Her cat-like grin widened and she stalked over to the weapons wrack. "Two daggers." she said. "Poisoned, naturally." She tossed two at him which he caught nimbly, before she grabbed two herself. He admired the poison coating the blades, surprised she had given him weapons at all given how suicidal he was, let alone poisoned ones.

Before he could do any harm to himself, however, instinct took over as he brought those daggers up to parry her first attack. She was a vicious little thing, faster than most humans he had met. He only just managed to avoid her blades as she pressed him back toward the fencing. He felt slower than he ought to have been and he had to keep blinking away the pesky dizziness in his vision.

He leapt to the side, watching as her blades slammed down into the wood of the fence instead of into him. He slashed at her, but she ducked under his first swipe, dislodged one of her daggers and then swiped it wildly at him. He only just managed to avoid it slicing open his gut, before she was on him again.

"Is that all you've got, Zevran?" she mocked. "I though the Antivan Crows were supposed to be good fighters."

At the mention of the Crows, he felt anger boil in his belly. Years of mistreatment from them bubbling to the surface. All the anger he felt toward them for what they did, for what they didn't do. He snarled and returned his own series of brutal attacks. He had more power behind each clash of their blades than she did, and he soon had her backing up across the courtyard.

"Aww, is the little elf angry?" she laughed. "You're cute when you're huffing and puffing."

He snarled again. "It is you that will be huffing and puffing when I bury this dagger in your chest, amica."

The thief grinned. "You'll forgive me if I tell you I don't want your dagger inside me."

Their blades clashed again, ringing out across the silent yard, and he was forced back a step, his breath panting.

"Stamina not what it used to be?" she cooed. "I guess the last two years weren't very kind to you."

There was that mention of time passed again. He still could not believe such a thing to be true. It was too surreal. It was easier to believe this some hoax by the Crows than that. At the same time, however, he couldn't help but worry she spoke the truth. Something was wrong with him; why else was he slower and more exhausted than usual?

"I do not believe it," he said as he slammed his daggers into hers, gritting his teeth.

She rolled her eyes. "Bit silly, not believing in a fact." With a flick of her wrist, one of his daggers went flying into the dirt. She blocked his way from retrieving it and he had to fend her off with just the one dagger as he lunged for the fire iron. She hadn't been expecting that, if the look on her face was anything to go by. He smirked and charged at her, letting his fury and grief fuel him.

"Rinna died two years ago, by your order," the thief taunted. "You moved on, forgot about her."

"No!"

His attacks had her backing up again. "Even Taliesen's dead. You killed him yourself."

"You lie," he hissed. His brutal swipes knocked both her blades clean out of her hands, then he sliced his dagger across her gut. She gasped and fell to her knees as clutching at the wound.

"Zev," she said, gasping.

His head hurt, so much as he backed up. He realised he was crying but he did not know why. He felt so utterly overwhelmed. He wanted it to end again, he just wanted it all to stop.

He slashed his wrists and watched the blood flow out, hot and wet over his tanned skin. He sighed in relief and dropped to his knees. All the pain and misery would soon be over. And he'd see Rinna again. He closed his eyes and waited for death.

But the wounds felt…odd, almost itchy, and he opened his eyes to glance down at them with a frown, realising they were…closing up. Healing.

"Che cazzo?" He brought the dagger across his wrist again, drawing yet more blood, only to watch it seal up immediately. The thief started to giggle where she was lying face down in the dirt. He had thought her dead, but her entire body was shaking with her laughter.

She lifted her head, grinning. "Okay, so, I lied," she said as she pushed into a sitting position with a slight grimace. "They're not coated with poison but a powerful healing agent."

"Brasca," he breathed out.

The thief checked her wound, lifting up her tunic to do so. Her wound was still open but it didn't appear to be bleeding any longer. She winced slightly as she put the tunic back down. "Rather mean of you to try to gut me me after I told you I didn't want your dagger inside of me, don't you think?"

He let out a bitter laugh. "I am certain worse things have been inside you, no?"

She chuckled. "No doubt." With a groan, the thief got to her feet. She held out her hand and Zev took it. She pulled him to his feet and he dusted himself off, his wrists fully healed now. She clutched at her stomach as she walked, nodding for him to follow. He did so. His anger was gone now. He still felt hollow, but it was clear death did not await him on this day.

"My name's Sofía, by the way. I'm a friend of Isabela's."

His ears flicked in surprise. "Truly?"

The thief nodded. "We go way back. You and I met a while ago-I helped you get a meeting with the Seers here in Rivain. They're the ones who put you through the Ritual that cost you your memories."

"Ritual?" he asked, scowling.

She sighed slightly. "A blood mage had gotten into your mind. She was able to control you, or something. The mages here got rid of her grip on you but they had never seen such powerful blood magic before, so they aren't certain it will keep you safe should you encounter the witch again." She opened a door for them and limped inside. "Your journal goes into more detail about it all. I strongly suggest reading it."

He shook his head, still struggling to believe it all.

"Just look at your body, when you get back to your room. There's a mirror on the wall. Your hair is longer, you have scars you didn't have two years ago; new tattoos, too. Time has passed."

Idly, he played with the braid his hair was in, realising that she was correct; it was nearly double the length he remembered it being.

"I promised you, before the Ritual, that I'd do whatever it took to help you recover," Sofía said.

"Ah, and trying to kill me was your best solution, I see," he said wryly.

She snickered. "You were upset and angry and barely wanted to talk about any of it, so yes."

"No doubt you did not expect me to win quite so thoroughly."

"I let you, Zev."

"Keep telling yourself such things if they help you sleep at night, mia amica."

"See? It worked, you're back to being insufferable."

He chuckled, head shaking. "Perhaps you do know me."

"Of course I do." She started to smirk. "And, honestly, it's a little insulting that you don't remember me at all."

"Mm, and surprising," he said as he let his eyes rake down her body.

She laughed. "Not for you; I'm taken."

"Ah, and not wanting to be stolen, I take it?"

"You wouldn't be able to, even if you wanted to," she said as she pulled her hair out of her messy ponytail.

He hummed, tiredness making him sluggish as they walked back up the steps. "This amnesia, will it last long? Is such a thing permanent?"

"They don't know. We're all hoping it's not, obviously." She stopped looking serious for the first time since he had…met her. "There's something you need to do – someone who needs you, Zev."

"Who?" he asked, frowning up at her.

"Read the journal," she said, just as he realised he was back outside his room. "I'll give you some privacy to do that, but please don't try to hurt yourself again, okay?" He nodded and she smiled softly, squeezed his shoulder, then walked away. With a sigh, he opened his door and headed in. The book was where he had left it on the bed. He picked it up, running his fingers over the pattern on the front again as he sat down, then opened the first page and carried on from where he had left off.

…

It was odd, reading an account of his life when he could not recall two years of it. But…he finally believed it. Believed that all that time had indeed passed him by. He had forgotten much; an entire Blight, in fact. Apparently, he had even been on the rooftop when the Archdemon was slain, and thus was considered one of the heroes of the Blight-an odd thought, but one that made him feel a little smug, he had to admit. To think, he had gone from wanting nothing but death after losing Rinna, to finding purpose and happiness again. And it was all thanks to this one person, Neri. Most of the journal was about her, in fact.

He had read through pages and pages of his adventures with her, and even more pages of detailed drawings of her- in armour, smirking over her shoulder at him, sleeping, grinning, and laughing—as well as other important people in this forgotten life of his. Neri was beautiful; there was no other word for her. And staring at those pages, he thought he might have felt a brief flicker of recognition there. He certainly had a vivid enough picture of her from the words and drawings alone. Her hair was apparently as vibrant as a cornfield, her eyes bright like autumn, her freckles only adding to her cheekiness.

Over and over again he had written about his feelings for her, how he had come to love her, cherish her, miss her. And there it had also begun to explain why he was not currently with her. An Antivan woman by the name of Carina had tried to kill Neri at the Royal Wedding—which Zevran had also attended because he was apparently friends with Ferelden's royal couple. That had been a bizarre revelation, indeed. This Carina had used an assassin Templar to do her work for her. Work that had very tragically failed. But the woman had tricked them all. In truth, she was a blood mage, a powerful one at that, who had come after Zev himself when his investigations into her had gotten too close to the truth.

From there things had only gotten worse, it seemed. She had controlled his mind, threatened him, forced him to leave Neri's side. And Neri herself had lost all memories of that encounter with the witch. He had no way of knowing how much she had figured out since that fateful night, if anything, and thus, she remained in grave danger from the witch. He did not know exactly what the witch wanted from her or indeed both her lovers; that was not something the old him had figured out. And without his memories, he was not likely to do much better now.

He trailed his fingers over a drawing of Neri once more, the smirking cheerful one of her. If…if he loved this woman as much as he had loved Rinna, then he knew that, memories or no, he had to save her. He could not let another that he loved die, not if there was something that could be done to prevent such a thing.

He closed the diary and pushed up from the bed. Sofía had popped in some time ago with food and drink for him, and he suspected, just to make sure he hadn't killed himself. She had told him where he could find her once he was done reading the journal. That was where he headed now. He needed to figure out how he could help Neri—he did not even know where she was currently, or what she was doing.

He ran a hand through his silvery hair; it was slightly wavy from the braid it had been stuck in for Maker only knew how long, and he shoved it away from his face. He rounded the corner and slammed straight into a young man. Wide, hazel eyes stared up at him and then a big smile bloomed across the boy's lips.

"They said you were awake!" the human said, brushing his shaggy black hair away from his eyes. Suddenly Zevran was being hugged and he froze in surprise. The boy pulled back a second later, clearing his throat. "Sorry, I know you don't like hugs."

"On the contrary, I like them very much…from my lovers. Are you such?"

The boy went bright red. "No!" he squeaked. "I'm Beltrán, do you…remember me?"

Zevran smiled a little awkwardly. "Alas, I do not. Although…" He pulled his journal out again. "The name does ring a bell," he said as he flicked through the pages. "Aha! Here we are. Beltrán: impatient, struggles to see the bigger picture. Good at killing, less so at the sneaking. Recently lost his virginity in a whore house. Ah, yes, that does sound like something I would encourage. Currently sleeping with Sofía. My, my," he hummed. "Nicely done."

The boy was blushing hard when Zevran glanced back at him, smirking. "What else have you written about me!?"

"Ah ah ahh," Zevran tsked, pulling the diary away from the boy's grabbing hands and closing it shut. "This is for my eyes only, my little apprentice."

The boy huffed. "I don't know whether to be pleased or annoyed that you said the same thing to me before and after the Ritual."

Zevran laughed. "Perhaps I should add a note in here about you being cheeky and persistent too, hmm?"

"Are you planning on losing your memories again?" Bel asked.

"Not if I can help it," Zev replied. "Now, enough chit-chat, take me to see your…amante."

Beltrán groaned, his dusky cheeks blushing prettily again. "I just got used to you not teasing me about that, now you're going to start up all over again," he sighed.

"Naturally; that's half the fun of losing your memories, sì? You get to repeat the same old jokes."

His apprentice rolled his eyes and Zevran followed him, smirking. He never thought he'd have his own apprentice; it was oddly satisfying knowing he had someone under his wing, so to speak. Especially a boy who had been a Crow too.

It was not much farther until Beltrán stopped outside a door and nodded his head. "She should be inside. I, uhh, just came from there."

"Came did you?" Zevran asked, smirking yet again. The boy coughed loudly.

"I'll leave you to it," he said quickly before rushing off.

Zevran let out a light laugh then knocked on the door.

"Entrar!"

He pushed the door open and found Sofía tidying her messy hair. He gave her a knowing smile and closed the door behind him. "So," he said. "I read the whole thing."

"Good. Would have been a waste of the nights you spent writing that journal instead of sleeping if you didn't." She offered him a seat as she sat down on the other side of the desk herself. "I imagine you wish to discuss Neri first, sí?"

"Certo," Zevran said. "From what I can gather, she may be in danger. I need to warn her."

Sofía nodded. "Yes, before the Ritual you were adamant that you help her, memories or not, once you woke up."

"If I loved her half as much as I loved Rinna…" He swallowed. "Do you know where she is at this very moment?"

"Kirkwall, apparently. I have a contact there who confirms as much." Sofía tucked her hair behind her ears. "That same contact is also willing to act as a go-between for us. Passing on notes and other such things. You made it clear that such a messenger should be someone Neri does not currently know, just in case the blood mage had messed with anyone else close to her. She meets that criteria."

"And we can trust her?"

Sofía smiled sweetly. "She's an ex-Crow, just like you. So, probably."

Zevran snorted. "Very well. I will write a note to her."

"Best keep it short and sweet, at first. I know Bea was working on another means for you to communicate but it's not ready yet so notes will have to do, for now."

He nodded and began writing his message on the parchment she passed to him. It felt good to be doing this, having a purpose of saving another's life when he had spent so much of his life taking lives. The guilt and sadness from Rinna's death still clung to him like a shroud, but already this was helping to distract himself from that.

"They're hopeful that the memories Neri lost will come back to her at the mere mention of one powerful word. A trigger of sorts."

"Carina," he whispered. "Neri does not know she is the blood mage, that she is the one that took her memories. If I tell her that much…"

"Then just maybe it'll work to make her remember," Sofía nodded, smiling.

"Even if it doesn't, I can tell her all I know, and like me, she can get to work without such memories."

"That sounds like the most frustrating scenario ever concocted," Sofía muttered.

Zevran chuckled. "That does seem to be the way of things, yes."

Message complete, he handed it back to the thief. She rolled it up and smiled at him. "I'll make sure it gets to my contact safely."

"What, ah, what shall I do in the meantime?"

"I would train, if I were you. The Ritual left you weak, had you knocked out for days. And if this blood mage is truly as powerful as the Seers say she was…then you're going to want to be the strongest you've ever been."

He swallowed thickly, nodding.

"The mages will give you as much advice and protection as they can, but what you're facing…they're not even sure she is just a blood mage, Zev."

His face hardened with grim determination. "I will be ready for her, this time."

A/N: This chapter was horrible to write. I hope you all loved it. XD.

This, of course, is the start of Zev coming back into the story. Finally.

For those who hadn't read the prequels to this, I hope it wasn't too confusing. If I need to explain anything more, feel free to PM me or just leave a comment with your question(s) and I'll answer them as thoroughly as I can.

Back with the usual gang next week.

And thank you for all the support and to my wonderful beta, Lys.