Dinner with the Family

CONTENT:
Rating: Mature
Flavor: Adventure/Drama
Language: yes
Violence: no
Nudity: no
Sex: discussed in general terms
Other: none

Author's Notes:

And now for one of the FIRST chapters, written oh so many years ago... along with 'Life's Most Embarrassing Moments' and 'Assassining Can Be Fun' and all that. Whew! Probably the record for the longest time between original writing and posting. Oh, no wait... I wrote "Candy" way back when, and that is at the start of BOOK THREE! ::headdesk!::

Get a snack, this is LONG!

Dinner with the Family

==#==

Dinner time rolled around, so Zevran, Bannon, and Alistair dug deep into their packs to try to find something to wear that wasn't armored. Wynne stood fussing outside the door. "Honestly!" she exclaimed. "You men take longer to get dressed than a dozen schoolgirls on their first date."

"Well it's easy for you," Alistair whined. "You just have robes to wear. Has anyone seen a pair of my socks that match?"

"You have socks that match?" Zevran quipped.

Just before they left, Alistair pulled Bannon aside. "Listen," he said, "would you mind terribly if..." He chewed his lip. "I don't know everything you've told your family, but it would really mean a lot to me if I could just be plain old Alistair tonight. Not 'challenger to the throne' Alistair," he said in a mocking, doom-laden voice. "Or 'prince-apparent Alistair.' Or 'bastard vying to be king' Alistair, or anything like that."

Bannon grinned. "I only said you're my friend and a Grey Warden. Though... I thought it would give them some prestige to have had the future king as a guest, but I suppose they'd be more comfortable with just 'perfectly normal nothing to see here' Alistair."

"Thanks," Alistair said, releasing a pent breath. "This means a lot to me."

==#==

They came to the alienage gate as the sun was setting. The gate guard ushered them along, as it was time for the gate to be closed for evening curfew. Alistair was nervous, as he was the only one unarmed, and without his plate armor to boot. Bannon told him to relax.

Cyrian's apartment was not far from the gate, and they arrived without incident. Bannon made introductions all around, to his father Cyrian, Shianni, and even Soris was there. Cyrian welcomed them and shook Alistair's hand. "I'm sorry we don't have more proper accommodations for you," he said to the humans.

"Think nothing of that," Wynne said. "Both Alistair and I come from simple folk. You have no idea what a relief it is to be treated as no one special."

"No idea," Alistair agreed heartily.

"We would be most honored," said Zevran sincerely, "if you would treat us as you would your own family."

"But," said Shianni, "you're Grey Wardens! And you're a mage, from the Circle..."

"My dear," Wynne replied, "Just because I live in a tower, doesn't make me a princess."

Cyrian laughed and motioned them all to take seats. Bannon brought out the bounty of liquor bottles they had as everyone settled in. He poured everyone a glass of wine.

"A toast!" called Cyrian. "To the safe return of my son, now and always."

Everyone raised his glass, Soris only reluctantly. Bannon added, "And to us all, in these dangerous times." He looked pointedly at his cousin, who refused to meet his gaze.

They drank and set their glasses down. Zevran said to Cyrian, "I understand your hahren was taken by those Tevinter dogs. I am sorry for your loss."

"We've lost so many," Cyrian replied glumly.

Bannon asked, "Have they decided on someone to take the office?"

"Well, there was talk of appointing you." Cyrian looked his son in the eye.

"Huh? Me?"

His father nodded. "You're a Grey Warden. And you've travelled far, and... well," he added with a smile, "one hopes you've picked up some wisdom on the way."

Bannon stammered. "I-I couldn't. I mean... I'm not even old!"

Zevran and Alistair laughed. Alistair said, "Oh, here we go, a reluctant victim stuck in political office." Bannon gave him an evil look.

Cyrian shook his head. "You don't have to be old to be the elder. Besides, do you know of anyone better qualified?"

"'Anyone' would be better qualified," Bannon insisted. Frantically, his thoughts raced, his eyes darted as if searching for an escape route. Suddenly, he looked up. "What about Shianni?"

"Me?" she sputtered, twice as startled as he had been.

"Who was out there telling people, 'don't listen to those Tevinter charlatans' and 'go home to take care of your families'?"

She stared at him wide-eyed. "Yeah, but nobody listens to me!"

"Maybe they should," said Zevran.

Shianni looked at him, flustered. She excused herself from the table. "Look, I have to check on the goose. It should be almost done."

"Let me help you," said Wynne, also rising.

"Oh, no; I couldn't," she said quickly. "You're our guest."

Wynne waved that off. "Oh, posh. Now is a good time to escape to the kitchen and let the men get on with their tedious 'men talk.'" She winked, then accompanied the grateful woman into the other room.

==#==

Shianni bustled around the cramped kitchen, fussing over the pots on the stove and the goose cooking in the oven. Wynne stood back out of her way in one corner. She said, "It's a great honor to finally meet you. Everyone in your family is so brave."

"You mean Bannon and Soris?" Shianni towards the mage. "He told you what happened?" She looked aside, one arm unconsciously crossed over her stomach.

"I mean you," Wynne said. "I understand you thwarted that bastard in his first attempt to abduct the women. Unarmed too, and you knocked him out cold."

Shianni smiled a moment, then it crumbled. She sniffled. "I shouldn't have done that."

Wynne stepped to her. "Don't ever say that!" she said harshly. "Never say you shouldn't stand up for what you believe in. And especially never believe that!"

The elf cringed, and Wynne softened her voice. "I'm sorry, Shianni. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"I'm always frightened, now. No one respects me. No one listens." She squeezed her eyes shut. "It's just Shianni, the damaged one. The trouble-maker who got what she deserved, and got everyone else killed, too. The meekling. I should have died in the Purge."

"You know that's not true," Wynne said. "Bannon's told us about what a spirited woman you are. You are not meek."

"That was before." Silent tears ran down her face. "I- I tried to fight them. But they were too strong. Th-There were too many..." Her voice broke.

Wynne put her arm around the elf's shoulders, and Shianni huddled against her. "You're stronger than that," the mage told her.

"No, I'm not."

"They're gone, but you're still here," Wynne told her firmly. "And you're still looking out for your people, trying to keep them from harm. They could never break your spirit."

Shianni looked up at her. "But I am afraid. I'm afraid of men. I can't stand to be touched. I... It still hurts, inside."

"Did you see a healer when you came back?"

The elf shook her head. "We don't have that kind of money. I just stayed in my bed for days. And then there was the riot... and they started taking people away..."

"Shianni, i'm a healer. Will you let me help you?"

"I don't know what you could do, now." She hung her head.

"I don't either," Wynne admitted. "But I do have a strong spirit." Shianni nodded, and Wynne put her hands over the girl's stomach. Closing her eyes, she let the spirit's healing magic flow through her hands. In her mind's eye, she saw the blue glow of power overcoming the blackened and broken places within Shianni's own body and spirit.

Shianni gasped as the gentling power flowed over her. She looked down as Wynne withdrew her hands. "I feel..." She looked up into the mage's eyes. "Sweet Andraste, I feel whole again. as if... something within me were missing. How can I ever thank you?"

Wynne smiled gently. "By doing what you are best at, and protecting your people."

"Do you think I could really become hahren? Will... will I be able to have children?"

"You should try to take things slowly, but you must know Shianni: you can do whatever it is you put your mind to."

A smile illuminated the elf's clouded face. "Thank you. Thank you! Thank you, your... ladyship - I don't even know how to address you properly."

"Oh, please! 'Wynne' will do just fine." The mage smiled. "And let's not burn that goose, or we'll never hear the end of it."

"Men can complain endlessly, can't they?"

"And that's the Maker's truth!"

==#==

Soris gulped down his wine. "So, cousin," he said darkly. "Are you finally going to explain why you left me to rot in the arl's dungeon?"

Cyrian shot him a warning look. "Soris!"

"No," said Bannon. "He has a right to be angry." He looked at his hands for a moment, then met his cousin's accusatory stare. "I let you down, Soris. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" He coughed out a bitter laugh. "That's it?"

"What else do you want me to say?"

"How about you give me a reason!" Soris banged the table with his fist. "I was counting on you to come and get me out! You were so gung-ho to go rescue the women, I figured that would be a piece of cake to you, but no! You never came! Well, why the hell not?"

Bannon folded his hands on the table. "Duncan pulled me out of the guard's clutches with that 'Right of Conscription.' I begged him to do the same for you, but he wouldn't. Then he dragged me off to Ostagar."

"Oh, he dragged you," Soris drawled. "Physically? Because it seems to me you should have been able to give him the slip easily. Did you even try?"

"I thought they took you to Fort Drakon," Bannon answered, looking at his hands. "I didn't think there was anything more I could do."

Soris threw up his hands. "So you didn't try. thanks a lot, cousin," he snarled. "You didn't even try to find out where they took me."

"When we came to Denerim, the Alienage was sealed off! They wouldn't let us in. No one would tell me what was going on; what had happened," Bannon said desperately. "All I heard was that there was a riot. Andraste's Tits, Soris, i thought they had executed you!"

Cyrian cleared his throat. "Language at the dinner table," he warned.

Bannon looked directly at Soris. "You have no idea how glad I am that you are alive." Soris looked away. "I know you are bitter. I don't blame you."

"You should be glad you're alive," Alistair said.

"Don't patronize me, shem," Soris spit back at him.

"Soris!" Cyrian barked. "Please try to act in a civilized manner while you are under my roof."

The elf helped himself to more wine. "I just don't see why anyone thinks he's a hero. All this bloodshed and suffering; they're all his fault."

"I don't understand," Bannon said. "Duncan took me away, and you were in custody. We were the ones who killed Vaughn. Why was there a purge?"

Soris laughed humorlessly. "Why do you think? The new arl came in, and he didn't believe only the two of us could have taken on Vaughn and all his trained guards." He gulped his wine too quickly. "They tortured me for the names of our conspirators."

"And you told them what?" Zevran asked pointedly.

"They were torturing me, for Andraste's sake! I don't know what I said! I just started saying names, hoping they would stop!"

Bannon paled. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing to him," Zevran said harshly. "It is his own weakness that has caused this. There was nothing you could do."

"I should have done something." Bannon hung his head.

Soris drained the rest of his wine and thumped the glass down on the table. "Yeah, you should have."

"All right," Cyrian snapped. "Soris, i'm sorry you have suffered, But we all have. I don't want to see my kin fighting. I don't want to see any of us fighting each other. This subject is closed."

"Yes, Uncle."

"Alistair, Zevran," said Cyrian, "I apologize for my family's bad behavior on what should be a pleasant occasion."

"Don't worry about it," Alistair said cheerily. "That's what families are for - to embarrass you at the big get-togethers."

Zevran shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I didn't have much of a family."

"Are you an orphan?" Cyrian asked.

"Not exactly."

Before Zevran could launch into a lurid tale of his checkered past, the kitchen door opened. "Dinner's ready!" Shianni sang out, bringing the goose out in its pan, her hands covered with thick, mis-matched oven mitts. Wynne followed up with the vegetables. The small elven home was filled with the sounds of a big dinner being served: plates clattering, portions being passed, admiration given to the cook and her creations. Cyrian carved the goose, and served everyone a generous portion.

"Andraste's Blessing on our meal," the head of household said. "Her blessing on our family and our friends." He smiled. "Well, we don't stand much on ceremony, so let's eat!"

They ate companionably in silence for a while. Soris poured himself some more wine. "So, Bannon," he said, swallowing a chunk of meat and washing it down, "There's been this rumor about you going around the Alienage."

Cyrian choked, and Shianni rolled her eyes. "Oh, please."

Alistair and Wynne looked up with mild curiosity. Bannon looked across the table as well. Zevran said, "Do tell about this rumor. I hope it is a juicy one."

"It's nothing," Cyrian growled.

"No, no," Soris insisted. "He's right here, we can ask him."

"Ask me what?" Bannon asked guilelessly.

"They say you've been seen kissing another man."

Alistair choked on his carrots.

"I know!" Shianni said, "Isn't that ridiculous?"

Zevran said, "You have to be kidding. In Ferelden, this is a big rumor? Hah, in Antiva, no one would bat an eyelash until they had been seen at least running naked through the streets together."

Bannon put a hand over his face. "Zevran!"

"What? Is true! Then they leap into a fountain and swim about until the city guard fishes them out." He paused thoughtfully. "But you don't seem to have fountains here in ferelden."

"Ice," Bannon explained to him in an undertone.

"Ah."

"He was seen," Soris growled, not to be derailed, "kissing a man who looks a lot like you," he accused the Antivan.

"Soris," said Shianni, "have you considered the source of this rumor? Orsen is old, and he's blind as a bat!"

"Zack says he saw it too!"

Shianni rolled her eyes. "Zack will believe anything that anyone tells him. He still believes he saw a dragonling swimming in the river that one time!"

Bannon laughed. "Definitely a rotten cabbage."

Soris frowned. "You still didn't answer the question."

"Hello?" Shianni said. "This is Bannon we're talking about here. Am I the only one who remembers how many girlfriends he's had?"

"Oh ho," said Zevran. "Quite the lady-killer are you? I just hope you haven't had more than I. I would be very put out."

"At least five!" Shianni assured him.

"Oh, only five; is that all?" The Antivan seemed quite relieved.

"That she knows of," Bannon said out the side of his mouth.

"Do tell!"

"Don't worry," Bannon assured him. "Nobody could ever top you."

"Who was worried?"

Alistair just kept laughing.

"This is serious," insisted Soris.

"It is not," Cyrian said. "It's a ridiculous rumor. It should not be repeated, and it should die a swift death."

Wynne asked him, "Do you have a lot of that here? I mean, men being together."

"Certainly not," he answered.

"Oh, we have plenty in Antiva," Zevran said. "It is not a big deal."

"Well, we have decent folk here," Cyrian insisted. "Mostly. The few disreputable elements keep to themselves." He shrugged.

Soris narrowed his eyes at Bannon. "You didn't want to get married to Nesiara."

"So? You didn't want to get married to Valora. You said she squeaked like a mouse. I thought she was rather nice, actually."

"I'm sure you'll both find yourselves fine wives," said Cyrian. "Someday. I hope."

"Maybe when I'm ready to settle down," Bannon said vaguely.

"That's settled, then" his father said. "Another unpleasant topic of conversation can be closed." He shot Soris a pointed look.

"Fine." Soris wolfed down the rest of his food. "If you'll excuse me, I have things to do." He took one of the bottles, and without bothering to wait for formalities or goodbyes, he left.

"Well, for a new topic," said Alistair, "How about this gravy? This is fantastic! What's your secret?"

"Oh, that special taste is the dead cat that's been rotting out in the back alley for a week," Shianni told him.

Alistair spit out a mouthful and started choking.

"Shianni!" Cyrian scolded.

"I'm sorry!" She covered her mouth with her hand and struggled not to laugh. "I'm sorry, that's just a bit of Alienage humor."

Alistair coughed some more, grabbed his wineglass and gulped a mouthful. He laughed. "That's all right, you got me good, there." He grinned over at Bannon. "Just like the little sister I always wanted," he said in mock drollness.

Shianni laughed aloud, still lightly covering her mouth. "Well, it's just my mother's recipe. no cat ingredients, I promise."

==#==

They finished eating and set the dishes aside for later. Bannon produced a jug of dwarven ale, and they sat around drinking. Shianni said, "Why don't you tell us about some of your adventures?"

"Mm!" said Alistair, raising one finger while he swallowed. "Tell them about that assassin they sent to kill us."

"They sent an assassin after you?" Shianni gasped.

Alistair nodded through another gulp. Bannon said, "Oh yeah, remember that guy?"

"So arrogant!" Wynne chimed in.

"So annoying," Alistair agreed heartily.

Zevran just stared. Bannon laughed and started spinning his yarn. "Yes, he was so cocky! 'I am the Antivan Crow, the master assassin sent to kill you - prepare to die!'" Alistair started giggling, and Shianni laughed. "And we were like, 'You think so?' Swish! Whomp! Whomp!" Bannon pantomimed a battle with one hand, and a great many sound effects. "Wham! smack! 'Oh, and by the way,'" he said, holding out his hand with a flourish, "'here's your butt.'"

Alistair roared with laughter. Wynne doubled over and had to set her mug on the table lest she spill it. Zevran tried to protest, but they couldn't hear him for laughing so hard.

"No no no," the Antivan insisted. "I do not recall it going like that."

"I was there," said Alistair, "and that's exactly how it went!" He howled and pounded the table with one hand. "'Oh, by the way, here's your butt!'" he said to Wynne. Her laughter redoubled, and she started turning red in the face.

Bannon turned to Zevran. "I think you were unconscious for the most part. You do remember being tied up, I know that."

"That would be the 'here's your butt' part," Alistair told him, breaking up with more laughter.

"Wait," said Shianni; "you were the assassin?"

"Yes, carita." Zevran touched his heart and bowed his head. "Guilty as charged."

"If that's so," Cyrian said, reining in his own laughter, "How is it that you're with them now?"

"I am often surprised at the strange twists and turns fate can take. Plus, I am very lucky." He grinned and sipped his ale. "But I think Alistair said it best when he said... what did you say? 'If there is a huge sign reading 'we are desperate,' it has just knocked on our door.'"

They laughed again. Wynne sat back in her chair, gasping for breath. "Dear spirits!"

"All right, wait," Shianni said to Zevran, "why were you trying to kill them?"

He shrugged. "Is my job."

"You just... what? Switched sides?"

Zevran said, "Yes, actually, I did just switch sides. Although I worked for the Crows, I was still a slave. A highly paid and privileged slave, but nonetheless..." He shrugged. "I figured if the Grey Wardens could defeat the best the Antivan Crows had to send against them, then I would be safe from those selfsame Crows if i joined them. Happily, this has been true so far."

She looked at Bannon. "Why would you trust someone sent to kill you?"

He smiled. "Oh, we didn't; not at first. But Zevran pledged to serve me loyally, and as long as he continues to do so..." He turned one hand up. "He hasn't failed us yet."

"Nor would I dream of doing so. The Crows sent another assassin after me, and well it was: swish swish, clang clang, and here's your butt!" He grinned evilly.

They laughed and drank, except Wynne, who fanned herself. Then Cyrian asked, "Did you meet any Dalish elves?" The group all nodded. "What are they really like?"

"Definitely different," Bannon said. "I don't know, just... free, I suppose. A little wild. Like wolves, I guess." He set his mug down and stood up. "Zev, entertain them with some of our exploits there. I need to visit..." He gestured vaguely off to the back of the apartment.

"Certainly!" The Antivan smiled. He leaned forward over the table. "The Dalish were under attack by ferocious beasts...," he began the lurid tale. Slowly he revealed each new challenge, like the opening of a rose's petals, in turn. Even Alistair hung on his every word, and Shianni gasped at the revelation of the crux of the matter.

Bannon returned as he was finishing the tale. Cyrian said, "You were gone a while, you all right?" Bannon nodded and smiled at his father.

"It must be something to live among the Dales," Shianni said. "Out in the open spaces."

"I'm a city elf, myself," Zevran said. "The outdoors is just so full of dirt!"

"Me too," said Bannon. "I kept getting lost in all those trees and twisted paths."

Cyrian chuckled. "I agree; i like my city just fine."

Alistair said, "Wouldn't you like it better, though, without the Alienage wall?"

The elf wrinkled his brow. "I don't think so. Take down the wall?" He shook his head. "It keeps us safe from the outside."

"No it doesn't, Uncle," Shianni said. "It keeps us trapped in here, where the shems can do anything they want to us. Uh..." She looked sheepishly at the humans. "Sorry."

Wynne said, "No need to be sorry, dear. It is sadly true."

"If you think it is bad now, imagine how much worse it would be if there were no walls at all," Cyrian insisted. "Nothing to stop them from coming into our town, walking on our streets. Maker knows what they'd do to our tree."

"But don't you feel imprisoned here?" Alistair asked.

"Not really."

"Dad," Bannon said, "If there was no wall, you could go where you liked, live wherever you wanted."

"Go live out in the human neighborhoods? You know Karson and Shelia tried that. They couldn't come back fast enough." He quaffed his ale and shook his head again. "They were alone against the humans, and made very unwelcome. They were better off with all of us, here."

Wynne said, "They say a gilded cage is still a cage. And no offense, Cyrian, but the Alienage is hardly what I would call 'gilded.'"

"We live just fine," the carpenter insisted. "We don't need fancy clothing and fancy houses."

"We don't need privacy and breathing space and roofs that don't leak, either," Shianni added bitterly.

"It's not that bad," said Cyrian. "We are a close-knit community. We take care of our own."

Bannon said, "It isn't bad at all. Especially compared to Dust Town. Remember that place?" He grinned and Zevran nodded. "That was a real sh- uh, er, craphole," he said, mindful of his father's repeated insistence on civilized language at the dinner table.

"What's Dust Town?" asked Shianni.

"A place in Orzammar, the dwarven kingdom," Bannon told her. "The dwarves live underground inside a mountain, you see. And up at the top lives the king, and the nobles and all. And then in the middle are the different working castes, like warriors and smiths, merchants and servants. And then below them lives the criminal caste."

He paused to wet his throat with ale. Alistair told Shianni, "The dwarves have a caste system. It's like different levels of society, and whatever you are born as, you stay that way your whole life."

Bannon nodded. "But it's crazy, because they can marry other castes. And then the children, what caste they are? That depends on if they are a boy or a girl. See, if a warrior marries a servant... okay, if the wife is a servant, all the daughters would be servants. But the sons would be warriors."

"That's not fair," said Shianni.

Zevran said, "Well, it could be the other way around. The wife could be the warrior, and the husband could be the servant."

"Then the boys are servants and the girls are warriors?"

"Just so."

Shianni shook her head. "That's just crazy."

"That's dwarves for you," Bannon said. "The worst thing is, that any criminals? They get branded, here on the face." He nodded as Shianni winced. "And then they have no caste. So they can't get a job or do any work. They have to live in Dust Town under the city.

"And then," he went on, "if they have children? The babies are branded and they are in the criminal caste too."

"That's horrid," said Shianni.

"Yes, it is," Wynne agreed.

"And then, since they are branded as criminal caste, they can't get jobs; nobody will hire them. So they have to rob and steal, or beg... and then the other dwarves complain that the criminals only ever rob, steal, and beg!"

"As if there is anything else they could do," Zevran added. To Bannon he said, "I think you have had your fill of that dwarven meade, my friend."

"What? Didn't I explain that eloquently?" Bannon fixed him with a crooked stare.

"I've heard better from you."

Bannon looked to his father. "You understand my point?"

"Yes, I think I do," the elder said thoughtfully.

Wynne finished the last of her mug and set it down. "Well, it's been a lovely evening, Cyrian, but I think I'd better get the boys home before i need a wheelbarrow to cart them in."

"But there's more ale," Bannon insisted.

"Yeah," Alistair echoed.

"Wynne can hold her ale," Zevran said, "but you two, you wouldn't last three rounds of Antivan brandy."

"It's called lady-like sips," Wynne retorted.

"I'll drink to that," Zevran replied, draining his glass.

Cyrian stood. "I think Wynne is right. I'm sure the Grey Wardens have a lot of work they need to be clear-headed to do tomorrow."

Alistair groaned. "Don't remind me."

"But we haven't told you about the golem," Bannon said.

"Next time," his father insisted. At this, the rest of the company pushed back their chairs and stood, getting ready to leave. "Just one moment," said Cyrian. "I told you I had something for you..."

He went into the back room, and came out a few minutes later with a sheathed dagger. He went to Bannon. "This was your mother's. I- well, I should have thought to give it to you before you left, but everything happened so quickly."

Bannon slowly drew the dagger from its sheath, watching it shine in the lamplight. Zevran said quietly, "It is a very fine blade."

"I know I've never been very... supportive of your mother's talents," Cyrian told his son. "And Andraste knows I tried to discourage you from following in her footsteps, but..." He shook his head. "When I saw you pop that lock on that slave cage, I have never been more grateful to her than that moment." He smiled.

Bannon sheathed the dagger. "Thanks, Dad," he said rather huskily.

The two embraced. "I'm proud of you, son," Cyrian told him.

"I, uh... don't know what to say."

"Well, that's a first," said Shianni. She came over to Bannon. "It was good to see you, cousin." She hugged him and, somewhat surprised, he hugged her back. "Thank you so much for everything."

"I... well, you're welcome," he stammered.

Cyrian shook Zevran's hand, then Alistair's. "Thank you for coming." They thanked him for having them over.

Wynne said, "Cyrian, it was a pleasure meeting you, and your fine family. Shianni, thank you for the wonderful meal."

"You're welcome. And thank you, Wynne. Here, let me walk you out." She went out the door with them.

Bannon turned to her. "You take care of yourself, all right? And tell Soris..." he faltered. "Well... maybe when he's ready to hear it, you can tell him I'm glad he's home."

"You can tell him," Shianni said. "I'm just sorry he's being such a-"

"It's all right, I understand." Bannon sighed sadly. "It's my fault they took him away."

"No, it isn't," she insisted. "Being outside really has changed you."

"What do you mean?"

She raised her brows. "Taking responsibility for something bad happening? That's not like you. I think you've grown up," she told him frankly.

"What?" He touched his temples. "Are my eyes wrinkled? Am I getting grey hair?"

Shianni smiled. "Oh, stop." She nudged him on his way. "Get going."

"If you need anything - anything at all- just send me a message at Arl Eamon's estate."

"We will." Shianni lightly touched Zevran's arm as he turned to go. "Will you come back to see us soon?"

The Antivan turned back and looked into her face. She seemed about to step back from him, but then firmed her resolve. Zevran smiled sadly. He took her hand and bowed over it, giving her knuckles a soft kiss. "Alas, carita, it is not to be." He straightened, but did not release her hand. "I am a terribly disreputable man. And if should even cast the most spurious of glances in your vague direction, your very gallant cousin would put out my eyes and unman me with a spoon. Not necessarily in that order."

"I'm thinking of exactly that now," Bannon called back to them.

Zevran grinned sheepishly. "You see? He misses nothing! I wish you all the best, carita." He loosed her hand and turned to follow his companions.

"I think she likes me," the Antivan said shamelessly.

"Of course," Bannon replied; "she has good taste."

"Do you think-?"

"Zev," Bannon told him succinctly, "Family. off limits."

"I understand completely."

They passed the inner gate and started across the bridge. Alistair said, "Your family is the greatest!"

Bannon told him, "You're drunk."

"Doesn't matter. They're wonderful." A dreamy expression covered his face.

"They are indeed, amore'," Zevran agreed.

"Oh, and you," Alistair said to Zevran, "every time you start teasing me, I'm going to say, 'oh by the way, here's your butt!'"

Zevran slapped a palm to his face. "Why did you tell that story?"

Bannon shook his head, then looked at Wynne. "Did you talk to Shianni?"

She nodded. "Yes, I did. She'll be just fine, Bannon." She smiled.

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Wynne."

Alistair stopped and turned back. "Listen, guys. For what it's worth... I'm sorry you couldn't tell your family."

"It's all right." Bannon shrugged.

Zevran pursed his lips. "I thought you did not approve of such relationships."

"No," said Alistair. "I mean- no! It's not that. It's just..." He fidgeted, trying to think. "I don't... mind or anything, I just... find it weird. I'm sorry, it's just too weird for me. That doesn't mean I don't want you to be happy. I mean... you are my friends."

"Seriously?" said Zevran.

"Uh, well, you know. Barring the trying to kill me and all."

"Very well, I accept!" The Antivan sketched him a flourished bow. "To honor our friendship, I vow never to tease you again."

"That's very- hey! Wait... I finally figure out how to get back at you, and now you won't tease me any more?"

"Oh, no; that would not be proper, my good friend."

"But friends tease each other all the time," Alistair cried. "I like it when you tease me."

Zevran coughed into his hand, trying so hard not to laugh. Wynne chuckled in her throat as Zevran teased Alistair so mercilessly, the knight was begging to be treated badly. The two continued all the way to the gate, where Alistair called for the gatekeeper to let them out.

Bannon trailed behind, lost in his own thoughts. He took the earring out of his pocket and stared down at it. Zevran moved closer to him, until their hands bumped. Bannon looked over at him a moment, then clasped the Antivan's hand with his own.

==#==

They ducked out of the gate, and Bannon whispered something to Zevran, then slipped away. The other elf frowned after him in puzzlement.

Zevran followed Wynne and Alistair to Arl Eamon's estate. Alistair rang for the doorman to let them in. "You wait for that," the elf told them. "I'll just use the servants' entrance. Oh, and look, here's the servants' latrine facilities." He took a left off to a dilapidated bush by the corner of the building.

"Zevran...," Wynne's voice floated across the courtyard. "I see you quite clearly!"

"Oh...! Wynne! You know how I hate that!"

"Yes I do, so now behave like a civilized elf and use the proper facilities inside."

Groaning a litany of complaints, Zevran shuffled after her. Arms folded, she waited for him. "But Wynne," he whined, "Alistair will get there first, and I will have to wait outside the door all that time...!" He made sad eyes at her.

Relentless, she shook her head. "Don't try that on me, young man. Now get inside!" Still groaning and hanging his head, Zevran did so. "I swear," Wynne said to herself, "How I came to be mother hen to these three I'll never know!" She caught up to Zevran. "Where's Bannon?"

"He said he had to do something."

"You don't know where he went?" She threw up her hands as the elf just shrugged. "I'll tell the doorman to keep an eye out for him."

==#==

Getting ready for bed, Wynne put on her nightgown and loosed her hair. She bent to turn down the coverlet on her cot, when she was startled nearly out of her skin by a sudden presence.

"Wynne!" Zevran whispered, moving silently even in his boots.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded in a strained whisper, hoping not to wake Leliana and Morrigan whose cots were nearby. "I might not have been decent."

Oddly, Zevran did not seem distracted by that thought. "I need your help. I- something has happened."

"What is it? Is it Bannon? Is he ill?"

The elf shook his head. "It's not him. It is me. I feel... it's... I feel something. For him."

Wynne sat down on the edge of her cot, the near panic draining out of her. "You're in love with him? And you're just now figuring that out?" She rubbed her forehead.

Leliana stirred and half sat up. "Wynne?" she asked sleepily. "What is going on? Who is there?"

"Nothing, dear," the mage told her. "Go back to sleep."

The bard's eyelids drooped, and she lay back down.

Zevran knelt down beside Wynne, the look on his face desperate. "This is a disaster of epic proportions! Don't you remember what you said? The Blight and the Archdemon and the end of the world as we know it?"

She sighed, praying for patience. "Don't you remember what you said? You have to take life's pleasures where you can, while you are still able. You two have grown so close, and I think you have both benefited from it."

"But everyone I love dies," he replied.

Her demeanor softened. "Everyone dies," she said gently. "It isn't because you love them."

"They die faster when I kill them," Zevran replied miserably. He ducked his head, trying to hide his tears.

Wynne bit her lip. Softly, she caressed his head. "That won't happen."

"But..."

"It won't, Zevran. you're a free man, now." She lifted his chin, then touched his shoulder firmly. "You don't have to do those things any more."

His body trembled under her hand. Cautiously, she leaned closer and pulled him against her shoulder, and held him in a comforting embrace. "It'll be all right." He tensed, and she felt his jaw muscle clenching as he tried to contain his emotion. Wynne tried not to shy away. She recalled what Bannon had said; that Zevran may never have been held this way, not even as a child. Her heart softened. Who could deny anyone such comfort?

After a few silent minutes, the elf regained control of his voice. "His family... his father loves him so much." Zevran moved back out of her embrace. "They don't like me," he said glumly.

"They don't know you," Wynne replied.

He shook his head and rose to his feet, not looking at her. "I know what I must do. Thank you, my dear sweet angel." He bowed low, gracefully, then departed as silently as he had come.

==#==

The armorer's was closed for the night, but Bannon could see a candle in the upstairs apartment. A little reconnoitering - not 'casing the joint' - led him to the back stairs. He climbed and knocked at the door and waited, still not sure in his drink-befuddled mind what he was doing. He slipped the earring out of his pocket again.

The door opened and Wade, shirtless, was silhouetted in the light. Bannon hadn't realized it when the human had been wearing his blowsy shirts, but he had the arms and chest of a blacksmith. Rather impressive, until he turned a bit more and the raking light caught the forest of dark hair across his torso.

"Warden?" Wade said.

"Yes, Wade. Hi." Bannon was glad this didn't turn out to be Herren's apartment. "Um, I need a... sort of a favor."

"What kind of favor?"

"It's... I need someone with a leather punch."

Wade's eyebrows went up.

Bannon held up the earring.

"Oh! Oh, that's no trouble at all." The armorer looked around a minute, then said, "You might as well come in."

He stepped back, and Bannon followed.

"Herren," Wade called. "Warden Bannon is here."

"What?" came Herren's voice, less constrained than it was during the day. "Why's he-?" Herren appeared in the doorway of the bedroom. "Why are you here?"

"Uh...," Bannon stammered.

"He needs a piercing," Wade explained, as if that sort of thing was a nightly occurrence.

Bannon was stuck staring at Herren's naked torso, his hastily-thrown-on pants low on his hips. What? Wade and Herren? In Ferelden? What?

Finally, a portion of his brain rose up and kicked the rest of it in the ass. Of course you don't hear about it in Ferelden! Where it's considered bad, wrong, taboo. Doesn't mean it doesn't exist.

And that meant Bannon was not alone. Not an anomaly. Had he seen signs of it all along and hadn't realized? Still dazed, he followed Wade and Herren downstairs into the armory. Wade scurried about in a flurry, looking for just the right tool, fussing up a storm.

Herren took Bannon to a chair and offered him a bottle. The elf took it gratefully. "Thanks. Has uh... Has he done this before?"

"Oh, yes," Herren reassured him. "Wade... don't take all night."

"Nonsense, Herren. You cannot rush art. It has to be set up perfectly."

"It's just a little hole," his partner complained. "It doesn't require a big production."

Bannon took a long pull on the bottle. This was no time to have second thoughts. "Why do you do that?" he quietly asked Herren.

"Do what?"

"You're always putting him down. Don't you care about him?"

"I..." The human frowned. "It's not like that. He's..." He looked over at Wade, gestured with a flip of one arm. "He needs a bit of tempering, of practicality. It's his nature. I'm his anchor."

"You hold him down?"

"No, I..."

"Why don't you support him?"

"I do." Herren pursed his lips.

"You could be nicer." Bannon put the bottle back to his lips to stop them from carrying on. Really, it was none of his business.

Wade brought over a lamp, a brazier, a portable table with cleaning cloths and some tools. "Really, Herren, if you ever got one of these done... What do you expect? For me to just pop over and stick you like a pig being tagged for market?"

"No, Wade," Herren said softly. "You're right."

Wade looked up and blinked a moment. Then he smiled. "I... well. Of course." He looked at Bannon. "Is everything to your satisfaction? Herren gave you the good stuff, didn't he?"

"I... uh, yeah. It's good. Thank you." Bannon drunkenly saluted the other man as well. "Thank you."

Wade heated up an awl over the brazier, then began polishing it with a clean cloth. The awl looked far too huge in Bannon's wide eyes. "Now..." The armorer smiled gently. "Where do you want it?"

==#==

Alistair was passed out on his side of the bed. Zevran lay awake, waiting for Bannon. he stared at the ceiling, barely visible in the dark, and tried not to think.

At last, the door swung quietly open, allowing faint lamplight in. Bannon came inside and closed it, as silent on his feet as an assassin. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it on the chair, then sat on the edge of the bed to pull his boots off.

"Your family means a great deal to you," Zevran said softly. "I understand completely if you wish to end our relationship now."

Bannon looked over his shoulder. "No, Zevran." He swung his legs up under the coverlet and lay back. "I don't expect I'll be seeing them much from now on. I can't go back to living there."

Zevran propped himself up on one elbow, staring down at him - not at these words, but at what he saw. The light was very dim, but there was no mistaking the glitter of the tiny jewels of the earring. The Antivan's mouth dropped open, because it was clasped through Bannon's left nipple. "When did you get that done?" he breathed.

"That's where I was just now," Bannon replied tiredly.

"Where did you get that done?" Zevran asked, mind spinning.

"Over at Wade's."

"The armorer?" His eyebrows went up. Finally, he could take his eye off the ring and look into Bannon's face. "Why did you do it?"

"Don't read too much into it," said Bannon. "I'm drunk. I'll probably regret it in the morning." He laid his left forearm over his eyes.

Zevran stared at him for several more minutes. His face wrinkled in sorrow.

Bannon lifted his arm and looked at him sidewise. "It's just a joke, Zev. Go to sleep."

The Antivan lay back down, and resumed staring at the ceiling. Eventually, sleep overcame him, but he tossed restlessly.

==X==