Not for the first time, Zevran found himself relieved that Asleena was wearing dragonbone armour. Had she been adorned in riding leathers he doubted his self-control would have held out as long as it had, or held out now as the Grey Warden supported him to the Circle Tower for healing. He had always had a high level of pride that he could master himself when it came to things like lust and desire, a quality one needed for seduction lest one become the seduced. Only Rinna had ever been able to break through that wall, and he had killed her rather than acknowledge the reason why this should be so.

"How do you do it?"

"…you have to figure it out yourself."

As mages were called out to tend him and Ferrix, he wondered if he should be feeling particularly noble for stopping Asleena from speaking on before. Had she been anyone else, someone he didn't care for, they would be wrapped around each other right now and thinking of nothing but passion.

Things had been so much easier when he'd only looked out for himself and put his own pleasures first.

When the healing was completed he led Asleena and Ferrix to the northern outskirts of Starkhaven. The Crows had said Alistair was staying at The Red Oak, an inn and tavern set up specifically for those who had business with the Circle Tower but didn't want to sleep within its ancient stone walls. Its patrons were mainly those doing tasks for the Chantry, and as such it wasn't a frequent haunt for Starkhaven's hunters and trappers.

Halfway to their destination, Zevran noticed the change in Asleena's stride and expression and he knew she could sense her fellow Grey Warden. She glanced at him when she realised he was looking at her and nodded slightly, but said nothing. She did not look afraid or trepidatious. Perhaps enough time had finally passed between the Landsmeet and now that she was ready to face her lover and see this business done. Perhaps Zevran had given her less reason to dread that Alistair would reject her…

Well…it was beyond him now. Alistair and Asleena would have their confrontation, and how it ended would be up to them and the Maker. Zevran had helped her find him, as he'd promised he would.

The Red Oak itself was a two-storey establishment of wood and stone with a pleasant little balcony running around the ground level. Ferrix was left outside while Zevran and Asleena went within. The common room was deserted but for the tavern-keeper, two Templars and a mage who was in discussion with a pair of travellers. A wooden staircase led up to a railed area of open floor…Zevran judged that the common room extended that way, and while he couldn't hear anyone up there Asleena was staring in the same direction as though she could.

"I'll need to empty this place out," she murmured. "Chances are we'll be talking about Grey Warden secrets at some point, and I can't go blabbing them in public."

Zevran agreed and they both went to the tavern-keeper.

"So he is a Grey Warden?" the man remarked upon hearing Asleena's request to speak with Alistair in an empty tavern. "He got drunk enough last night to claim to be one, but when he started talking about being a prince as well I just started nodding and kept the ale flowing."

"How much has he had today?" Asleena asked quietly.

"A few, but he's been quiet so far. He's waiting for a mage to see him, so I wager he's trying to keep at least marginally sober until it gets late." He nodded at the table with the Templars, mage and travellers. "They'll be leaving in a couple more minutes, so I'll lock the door for you, Warden. Dead quiet today…I don't mind doing the Grey a favour and I can run some personal errands in the meantime."

True to his word, chairs were shortly scraping floorboards, hands were being shaken and the small party on the lower floor trooped out of the building. Asleena walked Zevran and the tavern-keeper to the door, silent until the two men were outside with Ferrix on the balcony.

"I'll see you soon, Zev," she said, and in those words he could just make out the tremor of her fear. When he could do nothing more than nod she turned away and started towards the wooden stairs.

"Asleena," he called quietly when her foot fell on the first step, then he went up to her when she paused and slowly turned back to face him.

A hundred things he could have said and should have said before this moment, but had been too afraid or arrogant to admit. A hundred things…ultimately one thing. But she knew. She had figured it out before she'd prompted his pathetic excuse for a confession. 'Affection'…how completely and laughably inadequate a word…she had not accepted it, but for some reason she had still treated it like something fragile and precious.

Maybe nothing more needed to be said. She knew he would wait. She knew he would abide by whatever choice she made and still stand by her side, be it as lover or friend.

"Good luck," he said at last.

She inclined her head gravely. "Thank you."

They looked at each other a moment longer, then Zevran went outside and watched the tavern-keeper shut and lock the door. The man gave Zevran a shrug and strolled off south on whatever business he had.

Zevran lasted about two seconds gazing at the sky before going to glance through one of the front windows of The Red Oak. He endured Asleena's painfully slow ascent to the upper floor, then looked down at Ferrix and produced a scrap of dried meat—or it would have been dry had it not been in the river with Zevran earlier that day. With a careless toss, the assassin flicked the soggy treat and the mabari snatched it from the air with an eager snap of his jaws.

Another strip appeared, joined by a set of lockpicks. Zevran tilted the latter towards the door of the tavern and arched a meaningful brow at Ferrix. "Can I rely on your discretion, my friend?"

Ferrix glanced from door to assassin and whined.

"Ah, but you are perfectly capable of guarding the door by yourself, no?" Zevran flicked the meat over and set about picking the lock, which gave way easily. "And I promise not to interfere. You trust me, yes?"

The mabari glowered, having clearly not forgiven him for luring Asleena into a trap not even an hour ago, but a third meat strip convinced him to look in a different direction.

Zevran smiled to himself, slipped inside and shut the door with not a sound to mark his passage.

It took Asleena a while to prise her fingers from the banister once she reached the second floor, and her heart was beating loudly enough to make her believe she'd scaled a mountain. She stood there for at least a minute, head turned in the direction of the furthest of the small square tables where a lone man in battered splint mail sat.

The sound of her footsteps and the clink of her armour echoed in the empty tavern, but Alistair did not seem to notice her approach. Besides a slight hunch to his shoulders and a sleepless shadow beneath his eyes he looked much the same as she remembered. He sat with his forearms resting along the tabletop and hands clasped around a tankard, staring sightlessly into his drink. His sword hung sheathed across the back of his chair and a wooden shield, Dalish make by its looks, rested against its legs. His mother's amulet dangled loose against his armoured chest rather than being tucked away beneath clothes…she felt a small pang at the sight of it. Despite saying he'd wanted nothing more to do with the people of Ferelden, he'd been unable to get rid of the necklace Arl Eamon had painstakingly pieced back together and Asleena had returned to him.

"I thought I'd lost this to my own stupidity…"

Asleena stopped nearby, having failed to draw his attention even though she was now fewer than five feet away. It was funny…all her agonising over what to say to him and the one thing she had never considered was how to say 'Hello'.

Holy Maker, Blessed Andraste…please help me say the right things…

She went to the chair opposite him and sat down, making sure she made just enough noise dragging it across the floor. Finally, his dark eyes lifted and regarded her…

…with a total lack of surprise.

"You're early," he said.

"I am?" she replied, nonplussed.

Alistair glanced back down at his drink, lifted it and took a swallow. "It usually takes a few more of these before you start showing up. Then a few more before you go away."

"Alistair, I'm really here."

"Of course it depends what I'm drinking. There was this Nevarran mead I tried in Markham City—"

Asleena pulled off a gauntlet, reached across the table and put her hand against one of his larger ones.

"—could have used it to strip paint, and I had serious thoughts about sneaking some into the Chantry's consecrated wine just to…oh."

"I'm not early," Asleena said when he spoke no further. "I'm late. I should have run after you as soon as you left the Landsmeet."

There was a long pause and then Alistair was extricating his hand from hers. Asleena stared at where her fingers now lay abandoned atop the table, swallowed and slowly pulled back.

"Why didn't you?" Alistair invited quietly, watching her. "Too busy putting Loghain through the Joining and his daughter on the throne?"

She stiffened, took a firm grip on her temper and breathed out slowly. She shouldn't have mentioned the Landsmeet so quickly. "Can we…please…just talk first before throwing knives at each other?" she asked. "Please, Alistair…I didn't follow you all the way across the Free Marches to get into a fight with you. I…love you."

Dark brown eyes glanced away from her. "I didn't think you still would, after…" A flash of bitterness, pain and regret crossed his features. "I had such terrible dreams when I left you," he said slowly. "I still do. It's why…" He made a small gesture towards the tankard. "If it was just darkspawn nightmares it wouldn't have been so bad, but it was you, Asleena. I kept dreaming of you battling the Blight and going up against the archdemon, and me not…being there to help you. Sometimes it killed you or darkspawn did. Sometimes Loghain stabbed you in the back." His throat worked. "I'm glad you're alive."

The ache in her heart lessened a fraction. He didn't hate her, at least.

"The others…?" Alistair asked.

"They survived, except for Riordan. My brother is alive too." She hesitated. "And Loghain is dead."

"Fell in battle, huh?"

"He died killing the archdemon."

"Oh? Great. So he's a war hero again instead of a traitor? Are they melting the bronze down for a statue of him yet?" Alistair's voice had an edge of caustic jest to it, but when Asleena bit her lip he stared at her. "They are making a statue of him, aren't they? Wow." He sat back in his chair. "So that's how it is? Betray your king, get a whole lot of people killed, murdered and tortured, get a monument raised in your honour."

"It's not like Loghain asked for a statue," Asleena muttered.

"Yes, I'm sure the benevolent Queen Anora would have had one put up no matter if he died heroically or as he deserved." Alistair glared at her and folded his arms. "That's the point though, isn't it? People will remember him as the Grey Warden who ended the Blight, not a murdering criminal."

"He admitted he'd made mistakes," she said, and felt a bit ill to hear herself defending Loghain. "He didn't have to die either—Morrigan had a way out for all of us. He wanted to give his life to make up for what he'd done. He told me so."

"Then you should have killed him at the Landsmeet!" Alistair snapped. "Or let me do it! I would have been happy to see him give his life to make up for his treachery."

Asleena's hands clenched and her heart pounded savagely in her ears. "He yielded," she said in the coldest voice she could manage. "You expected me to kill him after surrendering? We'd beaten him, Alistair, politically and in personal combat! Wasn't he defeated enough for you?"

"Come on, it's not like you've spared everyone who begged for mercy. What about that Tevinter slaver in the Alienage? You didn't see fit to let him live!"

"That was different and you know it," she snarled. "Maker's breath…the man tried to bargain for his life by offering to kill his prisoners and use their life energies to fuel mine! If I'd let him go he'd have just gone off and terrorised someone else. Loghain at least could be useful, like Riordan said! And he was."

"Right, dying in battle fighting the archdemon, you said. Very useful. I could have done that without even trying," Alistair said, not noticing or not caring about the disbelieving stare this earned. "We didn't need him, Asleena. I don't care how useful he was…you can't sit there and tell me that what he'd done during the Blight wasn't evil. He didn't deserve to live after all the death he allowed, and he certainly didn't deserve the honour of being a Grey Warden after he tried to wipe us all out."

"He admitted he was wrong," Asleena repeated, gritting her teeth.

"Turning left by mistake at a crossroads instead of right? That's wrong. Putting peas in your soup instead of carrots like the recipe says? That's wrong too. Getting an entire army slaughtered by darkspawn then setting us up as the culprits? 'Wrong' doesn't begin to cover it! He deserved justice and instead he'll be revered. And me—" Alistair stopped abruptly, threw a frown to one side then muttered, "Well, look at me. I lost my mentor, my friends, my country and my love. How is that fair?"

"You can come back. I came here to try and talk you into returning." Asleena leaned forwards but resisted the impulse to reach across the table again. "Look…I know you were angry but it's over now—"

"It's not, you know. Over. Loghain will be remembered as the Grey Warden who saved Ferelden, and I'll be remembered as the man who abandoned his oaths right before the archdemon showed up. Do you think anyone in Ferelden would welcome me?"

"We don't…" Asleena took a breath to brace herself and steeled her heart against thinking of home. "We don't have to go back. Wherever you want to go I'll go with you. Anywhere."

Alistair said nothing for a moment, just watching her as though sorely tempted to accept her offer. But then he rubbed his eyes and shook his head. "No. I…I love you for coming this far and trying to talk this through, but no. You chose Loghain and Anora…not me."

"I don't care about Loghain and Anora! I didn't side with her because I didn't love you, I did it because we'd made a deal—a deal you were party to! You didn't want to be king and she did everything we asked to help us against he own damn father. She denounced him at the Landsmeet to his face and all she asked was that we support her as queen and be merciful to him."

"Making him a Grey Warden was a reward, not mercy!" Alistair retorted, his anger returning.

"So you would have betrayed our agreement with Anora just to see Loghain executed?" Asleena snapped back. "And when you were king, then what? Would you have killed Anora as well? Would you have expected me to stick around court after that or…or have me replace her as queen?"

"What? No! You couldn't be queen anyway. Grey Wardens can't have children with each other so I'd have had to marry someone—" Alistair froze when he realised what he was saying then stared at Asleena in horror. "Oh, Maker. Wait, I didn't mean—"

"You would have dumped me?" she whispered accusingly.

"No! I mean, if I'd become…Damn!" He paled and held up both hands as she began to swell with fury. "I wasn't thinking, all right? I didn't consider that until afterwards!"

"But you would have," she hissed angrily. "You would have taken the throne and sent me away so you could have your revenge on Loghain!"

"If you'd have killed him in the first place I never would have suggested being king! You know I didn't want to be and yes, it would have been a mistake. I'm sorry, is that what you want to hear?"

"What I want to hear is that you understand and accept my reasons for doing what I did," Asleena said, calming a bit. "It wasn't my idea to make Loghain a Grey Warden. I wanted him to face a fair trial and get his chance for mercy that way—"

"What kind of fair trial do you think he would have received with her as queen?" Alistair interrupted.

"Will you shut up and let me finish?" she snapped. He subsided with a frown. "Maybe he wouldn't have gotten a fair trial," she admitted. "But I wasn't about to kill him after he surrendered, and I wasn't going to let you do it either. Not in front of Anora."

He let out an impatient growl. "Why by Andraste's name not?"

"Because she's his daughter, you idiot!" Asleena shouted, her chair falling backwards as she jumped up and braced her fists on the table, trembling with rage. "You wanted to kill him in front of his own daughter, and no one deserves to see the father they love die before their eyes!"

Alistair went completely white, his mouth opening and shutting. He knew how Duncan had conscripted her into the Grey, and for a moment he looked utterly taken aback, ashamed and on the verge of saying he understood…but the words that popped out of his mouth were: "Forgive me for not having a lot of sympathy for the woman who ordered my head be chopped off."

She stared at him as the echoes died then straightened, withdrawing her hands, and looked away from him. Fury and hurt seethed in her heart and made her stomach ache. "I guess I wasted my time coming here after all," she said in a voice that shook in spite of her efforts to sound calm. "I had all these things I wanted to say about what could have happened if you'd got your way…but what's the point? You wanted revenge, not justice. You wanted him destroyed, not dead…why would you care if any good came of sparing him?

"I had more reason than you to want to make Loghain pay, Alistair. Howe might have been the one to send his soldiers through Highever, but Loghain sanctioned it. You lost people you'd known for six months…well guess what? I lost people I'd known my entire life. Riordan had been tortured and he still had the grace to give Loghain a chance.

"I love you. Maker help me, I probably always will. But if you'd rather wallow in your hatred of Loghain and Anora than accept you might have overreacted…" She shook her head and gave him the last words she'd received from his lips. "Take care of yourself."

"Asleena, wait," Alistair said in a strained voice. He shot to his feet as she began to walk away and grabbed her shoulder. "Don't leave."

"Let me go," she told him tonelessly.

"Look, I've had a few to drink and some of the things I've said—"

"If you don't let me go I swear I will run you through."

Alistair let his hand drop to his side. At the same time there was a soft noise from the ground floor, like wood creaking. Both Wardens glanced over the railing at the door, saw it was shut and thought nothing more of it.

"You have Duncan's shield with you," Alistair noted irrelevantly.

"Ferrix found it in a Denerim market."

"Oh." Alistair hesitated. "He came with you, of course. Did anyone else? I…wouldn't mind saying hello to people. If that's all right. I've missed…everyone," he finished lamely, and even after all the words that had been spat across the table a moment ago the way he looked at her still ached. She hated that she could be so angry with him yet still be a slave to that gaze. She despised she could hurt so much at his leaving her, but somehow feel pain for his loneliness.

It made no sense. Love made no sense.

"Zevran came," she said finally.

His face clouded. "Zevran? Just Zevran?"

"Yes, just Zevran." Asleena frowned at him and folded her arms. "Go on," she challenged when he stared at her in open dismay. "Ask."

"I only thought…Wynne or Leliana might have cared," he said quietly, looking wounded.

It wasn't what she'd expected to hear, and it made her ache even more with shared pain. "Yeah," she muttered. "Tell me about it. I didn't…I didn't tell them I was going after you, though. Maybe they would have..." She sighed. "I can call Zev up if you seriously wanted to say something to him. He fought the archdemon by my side, you know."

Alistair flinched visibly at that. "I'm sorry, Asleena," he said, and he actually sounded reasonable this time. "Listen…I came to Starkhaven for a reason and I…I really want to see this through considering I bailed on the Blight and…on you. There's a demon possession down near the city of Ostwick and I need a mage to fix it, like with Connor. Once I organise that and stop drinking so damn much maybe we can try this talk again?"

He was looking at her hopefully and sincerely, and she could only return it with a rising sense of despair.

"The demon possession you're talking about…isn't there any more, Alistair."

"What do you…mean? Somebody else fixed it? Wait…how do you even know about it?"

"We followed your trail past Ostwick and ran into the same problem," Asleena said quietly. She wanted to shut up or lie, but couldn't. She was hanging over the earthwound again and waiting for the inevitable fall…

"You had a mage with you?"

"No…"

He stared at her like she'd suddenly turned into a darkspawn and took a step back. "You killed her. You killed that girl. How could you do that? Loghain's worth 'giving a chance' but not some poor woman who's done no wrong?"

"You don't understand. You weren't there."

"You know what?" Alistair said, sitting down and picking up his tankard. "I don't want to hear any more. I'm sure you had your reasons. You always do," he finished snidely.

"If you'd just hear me out this time—"

"How many of the villagers did it throw at you before you got to the host?" he asked suddenly, his eyes narrowing while hers widened in shock. "How many more did you kill?"

"It's not that simple," she exclaimed, and something inside her finally broke and bled. "You always think it is, like the solution is one plain and easy answer, but it's not! It must be so wonderful for you sitting back while others lead and make the hard choices, all so you don't have to live with the consequences of any mistakes!"

"What consequences do you have to live with?" he growled. "You united Ferelden, you have a home to return to…you're a hero, for Andraste's sake."

"I lost you!" Asleena flung at him bitterly. "I lost you…"

The hands wrapped around his tankard trembled and his jaw tightened, but he did not look at her. Asleena waited until the silence filled her soul…then turned away and stumbled down the stairs alone.

When she got outside only Ferrix was there to greet her. She rubbed the tears from her face and figured in a numb, empty sort of way that it was just as well. Had Zevran been there…Maker. He was probably giving her space so she didn't have the chance do anything she'd regret. By the feel of things she'd need at least a week.

"We're going home," she told Ferrix softly.

He wagged his tail a bit, but then looked at the door and whined.

Asleena shook her head and stepped from the balcony, heading away. "He's not coming with us."

Zevran waited until she had moved off from the window before standing. He frowned after her, considered the upper floor a moment, then made his way behind the bar and managed, with a minimum of noise, to pour himself a glass of fine wine. Checking to see that his weapons were in order (the fortuitous demise of fellow assassins had given him opportunity to claim a replacement sword), he crept across the floor, up the stairs and towards Alistair's table as stealthily as only he could be.

The ex-Templar was seated with his face buried in his hands, shoulders shaking, and it was obvious the man-child wept. This suited Zevran perfectly. He had seen the tears on Asleena's cheeks as she'd fled the building and it was only justice that Alistair share that pain. In Zevran's mind, however, Alistair wasn't hurting anywhere near enough.

Silently, he righted the chair Asleena had toppled earlier in her anger. He eased himself into the seat, readied himself for maximum effect, then lifted both legs and brought his booted feet slamming down atop the table.

Thus it was that when Alistair's head jerked up to stare, he was faced with Zevran Arainai, chair tilted back ever-so-slightly, a pristine glass of expensive red held in one hand, and gold-glinted eyes relishing the surprise at his appearance.

"I heard something about you wanting to say 'hello', my friend," the assassin said, and smiled pleasantly. "Miss me?"