CHAPTER 3

.x.

Author's Note:

Hi guys. This is where I changed part of my fic, for those who already read it before. I modified Alistair's involvement in Everil's escape and removed some parts that didn't sound quite right.

As an extra disclaimer... I do not own Dragon Age lol, unfortunately.

Thanks again for reading! And please don't forget to leave me some feedback ;).

The paralyzed Everil could only see the back of the woman carrying her, her muscles still refusing to obey. She could hear voices, women's laughter, and the moans of men, while her nose was assaulted by the strong scent of ale and sweat. She couldn't make out the words spoken by those around her, but they were clearly in some sort of tavern.

Moments later, she was laid over a worn bed, her body flopping down on it as if lifeless. Whatever she inhaled before had robbed her of all strength and motion. Anger rose up within her as she struggled to lift her hands, her fingers twitching with every effort she made. Then she felt her arms being pulled and bound to the headboard, the rope scraping at the leather of her gloves.

Her captor pulled away and rose to her feet, tugging down her mask and staring at her with a satisfied smile. She wore a black cloak and black, hardened leather, a dark grey tunic underneath. There were several vials on her belt, as well as multiple small knives, while two daggers were strapped at her back. Footsteps had her whirling around and reaching for her weapon, gaze landing upon the hooded figure now standing in the doorway,l. One Everil recognized from their previous battle.

"Oh, it's you, Zevran," the woman said with relief, lowering her hand.

Zevran pulled back his hood, revealing a handsome, angular face, his pointed ears poking out from a long, platinum mane. The silver traces clashed against tanned skin, one silky strand caressing a swirling black tattoo over his left cheek. He wore leather under his black cloak and black gambeson and pants underneath the armor. The quality of his outfit screamed wealth, which meant these people were surely paid well for their deeds.

"Len, my dear. Is this your idea of a kinky eve? Because if it is, I am very interested in finding out where it leads," he teased, his seductive voice carrying an accent Everil recognized as Antivan—a faraway country north of Ferelden.

Len smirked, expertly twirling a dagger in her hand. "A nobleman by the name of Howe offered me a great deal of extra coin for bringing this one to him alive. I think killing the other one should satisfy Loghain."

Everil's eyes widened at the revelation. Both Loghain and Howe are behind this?

If these two were hired by their wealthy enemies, then that meant they were dangerous professionals. That realization made her resentment quickly change into deep concern. Alistair was a strong, capable warrior, but the odds weren't in their favor when she was taken. He was alone, left to fight whatever these two left behind. Maker, I hope he's all right…

"Len, Len, Len…" Zevran clicked his tongue, jokingly chastising his partner. "You know the Crows don't like it when we act on our own. Not killing the target and going around the original contract is… frowned upon."

"Yes, I know that. But this I could not pass up. With this much coin I could run away." A wicked grin spread over her lips. "I can leave the Crows and build my own life! Can you imagine?"

Zevran seemed amused by her. "You think they'll let you off the hook, just like that?"

"I'm sure they won't…" she sighed, averting her eyes from him. "But this is my chance to run away and hide."

"Oh, sure it is." His smile didn't waver, his tone chillingly nonchalant. "But you do realize I am also bound to kill you for doing this."

Len backed away, knowing well that, if he so wanted to, he could end her life on the spot. But despite her inner fear, the female assassin had a confident mask that matched his. "But we're friends, so you won't do it. Right, Zevran?"

"Hmm…" He cast her a pensive look she was unsure was genuine. "We shall see what this deal of yours brings you. I'm not particularly loyal to the Crows myself, after all." Zevran strode gracefully to the bed, inspecting her incapacitated hostage. The Grey Warden looked to be a capable fighter moments ago, now she lay helpless and at their mercy. This allowed him to take a closer look, however, and he wasn't disappointed.

Inquisitive brown eyes trailed over her features, from that dark-brown hair to the swell of her breasts and the curvature of her hips. She appeared to be quite delicate in spite of all the armor, dried blood, and dirt. Like a neglected porcelain doll whose face was chipped. He cupped her cheek, thumb stroking the slight imperfection on her otherwise perfect face. The raw anger in her eyes at the intrusion brought a smirk to his face and his curiosity grew further.

Len half-smiled. "Pretty one, isn't she?"

"I didn't know Grey Wardens allowed women in their ranks," he answered, glancing her way. "She even has a… sort of air of nobility about her."

"She is one, actually."

His head snapped to her. "Oh?"

"Yep. The nobleman gave me more information than he probably should have. He has a huge head, that one." The redhead placed a hand on her hip, still twirling the blade with the other. "He boasted about taking out the previous lord of this place called Highever, along with almost all of his family. He said she was the only one left. A loose end he wanted to tie up. Which is why he was willing to pay me handsomely for her."

Zevran raised an elegant eyebrow, puzzled by the man's logic. "Isn't it easier just to let us kill her?"

"You know nobles can be sick bastards. Maybe he has something planned for her?" Len shrugged with disinterest. "Either Way, I don't really care. I just want my sovereigns."

"Hm..." He returned his attention to the Warden, wondering if perhaps death was a more merciful fate for her.

.x.x.x.x.

"How could you let this happen? Were you not with her!" Morrigan questioned angrily, cat-like eyes following the man currently pacing back and forth like a caged animal. The rest of their companions were standing by, all crammed in the modest room with their gaze also upon him.

"Yes, but there was nothing I could do." Alistair anxiously ran a hand through his hair. "They took her, and then this… qunari came—"

"Of what use are you then! You call yourself a knight and yet you could not even—"

"I know, Morrigan!" Alistair spun about, desperately cutting her off. "I know that I couldn't protect the woman I care about! So if you're trying to make me feel any worse than I already do, then you're wasting your damn time!"

The witch opened her mouth to protest, but Wynne stepped in to put an end to their argument. "Now is not the time to point fingers! We should be thinking about what to do to find her and quickly."

"She's right," Leliana added worriedly. "If they were skilled enough to take her, they must be hired professionals. Did you hear them say anything that can help us?"

He took in a deep breath, then pinched the bridge of his nose, brow furrowed in concentration. "One of them… One of them mentioned something about… Crows."

Leliana gasped. "The Crows…"

He sent her a hopeful look. "You know of them?"

She nodded. "They are a renowned guild of assassins from Antiva. But they often do business elsewhere—if the person who hires them is willing to pay for it, that is."

"Then I bet Loghain is responsible for this…" Alistair angrily crossed his arms, glaring at the ground. His body still ached from the earlier fight but Wynne had thankfully used magic to heal his shoulder. All that was left was the bloodstain and the bruise on his pride.

"It's possible... They would have to possess a great deal of wealth to be able to afford their services." She pursed her lips in puzzlement. "I've never heard of them taking hostages, however. Perhaps a deal was struck outside the initial contract—an agreement to bring her in alive, but kill the other Warden."

Morrigan lifted an eyebrow at her. "How does a Chantry nun know about all this?"

She smiled innocently. "One hears many things during one's travels, no? I was a traveling minstrel in Orlais before I became a sister. Tales of intrigue were part of my repertoire."

"I see…" Morrigan's suspicious expression only deepened. There was definitely more to this woman than she let on.

"Well…" Alistair rubbed the back of his neck. "We at least know who we're dealing with. Now we have to figure out a way to find her."

A bark interrupted their conversation, drawing their attention to their hound. Bjorn padded to the door, scratching at it with his paw.

"You know where she is?" Wynne prompted with surprise.

The dog barked again.

Alistair observed him with interest, seeing him eagerly sniff the floor. "They say mabari can track anything from miles away... I bet he can follow her scent and lead us to her," he said, almost to himself before a thought occurred to him. If the hound could take them to her, then they could save her together. "All right," he regarded the group with renewed confidence. "Hurry up and get your gear. We're getting Everil back from these bastards."

.x.x.x.x.

This time, Alistair was the one leading the way with the others following behind him—which was surprising even to him. They were trekking after the hound through the back roads of Denerim, following Everil's trail without pause. It barked in another direction, taking them further into the least populated areas of the city. Areas through which his mistress was no doubt taken in an effort to avoid detection. Smiling a little, he made a mental note to reward him later, once Everil was found and brought back to them. To him.

Soon the night left them in near darkness, with only Morrigan's flame to light the way. They eventually neared Denerim's harbor, where ships were docked in big numbers. This was the main point of trade between Ferelden and other countries across the sea, and only fishermen and merchants lived or stayed nearby. That meant males of all races frequented the place, working in the docks or in their ships.

The group hid in one of the alleys leading to the harbor, while Alistair looked around the corner at the men strolling by. Bjorn stared at a well-lit building further down the port, whining quietly and revealing the location where their companion was being kept.

"Is that the sea?" Morrigan asked, hearing the rolling of the waves. She could smell the salt of the waters and the scent of the fish. It beckoned her, luring her as she pushed Alistair aside to get closer, curiosity getting the best of her.

A hand yanked her back, snapping her out of her trance. "What are you doing?" Alistair hissed. "You can't just go out there! What if the Crows saw you with us earlier?"

She roughly pulled her arm out of his grasp. "Then what do you suggest? Shall we hide until the Blight is upon us instead?"

Leliana and Wynne let out simultaneous sighs, while Sten merely watched the exchange.

"Just... give me a minute," he grumbled before poking his head around the corner again, trying to scan more of the scenery. He took a closer look at the building and the sign hanging from it, reading the words 'The Pearl' written over it. Men were gathered outside, laughing loudly while drinking and playing games as women served them ale.

Alistair recalled his last trip to Denerim with Duncan. The soldiers at the castle had suggested they visit the place, claiming it as their favorite spot for a pastime. Though he also heard from others that both guards and petty criminals gathered there, often too busy having their fun to notice—or perhaps even care about—each other's presence.

A group of five soldiers then caught his attention, their backs stiff as they took purposeful steps towards The Pearl. Anyone else would have likely seen a group of friends searching for some fun, but from a distance, they definitely lacked the merriment of men about to drink and get laid. They went towards the back of the brothel, possibly going in through the backdoor to avoid the crowd while granting him a glimpse of their shields.

Surprise fell on his face, immediately recognizing the coat of arms painted over them—the giant brown bear. "Howe… He was the one who ordered her capture!"

"What are you on about?" Morrigan asked moodily.

He moved to face them. "I don't have time to explain. But we have to hurry and get Everil out of there."

"What do you want us to do?" Leliana asked him, tilting her head.

A hesitant Alistair paused when they all looked at him, realizing the position he was in. As fellow Grey Wardens, he and Everil had somewhat shared some of the decision-making up until now, but this was the first time he was fully in charge of anything or anyone. He swallowed, looking at each of them as he considered their strengths and weaknesses, trying to think as she would in his situation. If he made the wrong call, he would either get himself and their leader killed or get everyone killed altogether.

Be more self-reliant… Everil's words as they sat upon those stairs suddenly came to his mind. More confident and independent.

Alistair returned his eyes to the brothel, his chest uncomfortably tight with worry for her. He had to save her. There was no time for doubt.

Fingers curled to fists as he steeled himself and sent a sharp stare towards them. "The place is dangerous as it is, with criminals and city guards swarming it. Plus we don't know how many Crows there are or where they're keeping her. Which means that all of us barging in as if we were a surprise party won't do. One man won't draw as much attention, so I'll go in on my own and try to blend in."

He then shifted his gaze to Leliana. "Leliana, you're a rogue, so you're good at sneaking around... I want you to go in through the back and deal with the soldiers we just saw. Delay them or get rid of them. Whatever it takes. Can you do that?"

A smirk formed over her features. "Of course."

He addressed the others. "Bjorn, Sten, Wynne, and Morrigan... You four will stay outside and watch for any reinforcements trying to enter the building. Sten and the hound can take on the enemy directly, while the two of you back them up. Got it?"

"Yes," Wynne replied with a confident nod. "Be careful in there."

Bjorn whined, padding closer to him and sniffing his hand. Alistair took a knee, lowering himself to his level to gently pat his head. "Don't worry, boy. I'll bring her back. I promise."

The dog gently touched his cheek with his nose, letting out another whine in response.

"All right…" Alistair blew out a breath as he stood, then pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, trying to hide his face and armor from view. "Let's do this…" He stepped out of the alley on casual strides, steadily making his way to The Pearl. Leliana waited a few minutes, covering her own face before nimbly rushing forth, using as much cover as she could to make her way to the brothel.

.x.x.x.x.

Alistair neared the place, cautiously observing those around him while also avoiding direct eye contact. The few men outside were all sailors, and they seemed too preoccupied burying their faces in women's breasts to even notice him. He pushed the door open and stepped through, drawing the glances of some of the patrons, who promptly went back to their women, games, and ale.

He advanced while observing the area, weaving his way through the tables. It was dimly lit on the inside, with only a few oil lamps here and there to keep people from tripping over each other. Women openly wrapped their legs around the men, while they were fondled freely and without shame. A bar was at the far corner, where ale was constantly being poured to be delivered to the guests. Moans and groans reached his ears from all sides and his nose was assaulted by a strong mixture of sweat and booze. Alistair made a face and wondered if one had to be completely drunk to endure the smell or if it just required a few visits to get used to it. He had his doubts about the latter.

It was strange to see such a venue in the capital of his country, but then again sailors and soldiers needed their entertainment. He imagined Cailan also knew little of it all, despite it practically sitting in his backyard. Not to mention there was probably some unspoken rule that kept everyone from speaking of what went on here—the one place in Denerim where most could very well get away with murder.

"Hi there, handsome..."

A bare-chested woman wandered up to him, her hands coming to rest over his broad shoulders. Alistair gulped, trying hard to avoid looking at her torso while gently pushing her away. "Sorry…" He cleared his throat. "Not here for that."

The prostitute shot him an insulted glare, lifting her chin up before stalking away, heading for another incoming guest. He let out a weary breath and climbed the stairs to the second floor of the brothel, which overlooked the entire bar. Rows of rooms surrounded the above area in a large square, a hallway opening up to more rooms on either side. A few couples leaned against the wooden railing on the top floor, completely oblivious of him. Pulling his hood down, he looked around, then continued on, a hand cautiously resting on the hilt of his sword.

.x.x.x.x.

Len paced the room anxiously. "They should be here by now."

"Who?" asked Zevran, who was taking a seat at the edge of the bed.

"Howe's soldiers, of course. I'll be back... I'm going to meet them and lead them in." She hurried to the door and stalked out, closing it behind her. A wicked smirk spread over her face as she made her way through the empty hallway, feeling good about her chances for freedom.

Of course an arrangement was already made. They were waiting for her, and all she needed to do was give them the room's location and take the money. Leaving Zevran behind was a must, else she could risk him killing her to save his own skin. She crossed the T shaped hallway, heading towards the linen storeroom in the back of the tavern while nearly bumping into a cloaked man in her haste.

Zevran shrugged, then shifted his stare to the Warden. She was pressing her lips into a line, eyes narrowed threateningly. A soft chuckle left him, finding her murderous glare admirable given her circumstances. "She gave you a strong dose, eh? But I suppose that's what it takes to keep you this docile, considering the look you're giving me."

He grinned and leaned over her. "You know, I don't much like the idea of handing you over to someone who wants to torture or make an example out of you. Instead, I could kill you and fulfill my contract…" A hand came up to her face and a bare finger traced her delicate jaw. "But then taking the life of such a ravishing creature would make me feel like such a terrible man—worse than I already am."

She stared back at him in silence, her beautiful blue pools still reflecting the promise of a slow, painful death.

"Or… I could be your knight in shining armor and set you free. Hmm… Decisions, decisions…" Zevran slowly sat up and rested his chin on a fist, seemingly pensive as he stared at her. "What say you? Shall I just roll the dice and we find out what happens together? Yes, I think I would rather try that." With a chuckle, he produced a small, triangled envelope from one of his bags and held it between two fingers for her to see. "I will help you out of your little predicament. Just please promise not to kill me after I do, all right? A life for a life."

There was a pause, then her eyes softened, which was a good enough answer for him.

"Good girl…" he murmured, then knocked his head back to pour the antidote into his mouth. After tossing the now empty envelope, he slowly lowered himself upon her and pressed his lips to hers, parting them with his tongue.

What is he…? Indignation flared up inside her and she whimpered in protest. But it all started to make sense when she felt the now moist powder slide into her mouth. She swallowed, groaning weakly against the elf's lips as a warm sensation gradually spread over her.

He released a pleasurable sound, enjoying the softness of her moist petals as his tongue gently stroked hers. There was no more antidote left to give her and it was time to withdraw. But by the Maker, was it difficult to pull away from her. To let go of this delicious mouth. If only he could continue to explore her. To taste her well into the sunrise until she lay in a breathless heap.

The door flew open. "Everil!"

Zevran quickly withdrew from her flushed face, head snapping in the direction of the voice. "Oh! You're alive?" he said with genuine surprise, immediately recognizing the intruder's stunned features. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then smiled broadly. "That means you beat Thorpe! Very impressive..."

For two seconds Alistair stood there, slack-jawed and rooted to the spot as his brain caught on to the image of the assassin kissing Everil's bound form. He clenched his jaw when shock gave way to searing rage, eyes turning murderous as his hand flew to the hilt of his sword. Which made Zevran quickly realize just how bad the scene he'd walked into really looked.

"W-Wait… I can explain," he attempted to clarify, but the Grey Warden drew his weapon, and in three strides, he was on him. He was grabbed by the front of his leathers, lifted from the mattress and slammed onto the nearest wall as the cold steel of a blade was pressed to his throat. "Wait!" he gasped, the edge scraping his adam's apple. "Let me expl—!"

"Save it, you son of a bitch!" Alistair yelled at his face, itching to slice him open. "You took her away, left me for dead, and now I find you trying to force yourself upon her! There's not a damn thing you can say that'll keep me from ending you!"

With a click of his tongue, the assassin pulled his weapon and ducked, slithering out of his grasp like a phantom and leaving only a cloak in his hand. Alistair found himself facing the empty wall, shocked and with a dagger pointed at his pulse. While Zevran shook his head, mockingly chastising him. "You've got it all wrong, Warden. Your friend was paralyzed by the woman I work with and I was giving her the antidote. She couldn't swallow it on her own so I helped her," he tried to reason with him, but couldn't resist the smirk that spread over his face. "Though I admit it was hard to stop tasting those lips of hers…"

"You…!" Alistair dropped the cloth and shoved the dagger away with his gauntlet. He whirled around and slashed, their blades clashing with a resounding clank.

A grin spread over the elf's lips, arms shaking as he held his sword back. "You don't take jokes very well, do you?"

"Shut up!" he growled, parried away his daggers, and swung again.

Zevran backed up, easily blocking the hits as the Warden continued to attack him. He ducked, dodging a diagonal slash while retreating further. Their weapons collided once more, Alistair's heavier strikes forcing him to take one, then two steps back. He leaned to evade as the sword narrowly missed his nose. And then he spun, deflected another hit, and delivered a swift kick at his ankles, sweeping his feet up from under him. Alistair fell and hit the floor, and in a blink of an eye, the elf pinned him like a lion would its prey, with a knee on his stomach and a dagger to the jugular.

Alistair's breath caught in his throat.

"You lose..." Zevran declared with a wicked grin.

"Curse you…" The Warden gritted his teeth, feeling the edge of the blade lightly pierce his skin.

"Maybe I shall kill you, instead of her," he purred as if seducing a lover, leaning over slightly to lock his gaze with his. "One Grey Warden is better than none, and I can just blame the rest on someone else. No one would be the wiser."

Amber eyes narrowed, anger and frustration swirling inside them. How could he have been defeated by someone like him? He needed to survive. To save her and stop the Blight. And yet here he was, with the dagger pressing deeper as fear crept up his spine.

"Zev… ran… N-No…!"

Upon hearing his name, he blinked out from his murderous spell and gazed towards the bed. The other Warden was struggling to prop herself up against the headboard while pleading to him. Those once fearsome eyes were now riddled with desperation, the fire in them completely extinguished. That expression... weak and afraid. It simply didn't suit her in the least.

Everil gulped and finally found her voice. "Please… don't."

Taking advantage of the brief distraction, Alistair tried to punch Zevran off of him but hit only air. The elf slithered away, putting distance between them and picking his cloak up from the floor in the process. In one swift move, he threw it over his shoulders, then gave him a toothy grin. "Too slow."

"Bastard…" Alistair sat up, sword at the ready and expecting another attack. But it never came. The assassin was already standing by the only window in the room, white drapes flowing around him with the light breeze.

"Looks like today's your lucky day, Grey Warden," Zevran teased, releasing a velvety chuckle. "That noble lady appears to care enough about you to actually throw away her pride and beg me for your life." He sighed in disappointment, sheathing his weapon. "Odd as it may be, I find myself not wanting to see such an ugly look on her beautiful face. So against my better judgment, I shall comply with her wishes and let you live."

He turned to Everil, the smirk softening into a seductive smile as he bowed to her. "We shall meet again soon, my dear. Please do leave here in one piece. After all... it was not only I who sought to claim your life." The wind blew the drapes over him like waves over a beach, and when they floated back down, he was gone.

Alistair got on his feet and rushed to look out the window, finding only the darkness of the ocean as it met with the black skies above. The assassin disappeared into the night as if he were death itself, leaving no trace of where he went. Huffing in irritation, he sheathed his sword and hurried towards the bed. Everil was feebly trying to untie herself when he sat at the edge, and almost desperately, reached over to set her free. Unsteady arms promptly wrapped about his neck and he held her tightly, burying his nose in the crook of her neck. "Maker's breath, I'm so glad you're safe…" he breathed, a great wave of relief washing over him.

"So am I… I thought the Crows… and Zevran…" Everil murmured shakily and withdrew to gaze up at him with deep concern, a hand over the patch of dried blood staining his armor. "You're injured…"

"I was a little but Wynne took care of it, so no big deal. Let's just worry about you right now, all right?" He offered her a small smile, careful fingers stroking her hair. "Can you stand?"

She swallowed and nodded slowly. "I can. But I'm not sure how well I can walk… My entire body still feels… numb…"

"Then we'll have to work together." He frowned and glanced briefly at the door. "Leliana should be taking care of Howe's men, but I need to get you out of here in case they somehow manage to survive her and come pay us a visit. I'll help you up."

"Got it…" Everil replied, trying to shift her weight to the edge of the mattress.

Alistair wrapped an arm around her waist and helped her to her feet, one of hers still over his shoulders for support. "Just take one step at a time…" he instructed as the two of them slowly made their way to the door.

.x.x.x.x.

Len met the soldiers just outside the brothel's back door, the darkness concealing them from prying eyes. "About time you showed up," said the only knight commanding the group, voice muffled by his helmet while the steel of his armor reflected the moonlight.

"She's all yours." She pointed a thumb over her shoulder, then extended her arm with an open hand. "Now, pay up."

"What?" he scoffed, pinning her with a contemptuous glare. "Did you honestly think I would just pay you without having the girl first? Are you stupid?"

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "But... The deal was—"

The knight leaned forward, so close she could see his green eyes through the narrow slots of his great helm. "The deal was a fair trade: The last Cousland for the coin. You're taking me to her first."

"All right, fine!" Len let out a frustrated breath. "Follow me." She spun on her heel, cursing under her breath and leading the men inside. As they stepped into the dark storeroom, a sound came from above, making the group stop and reach for their weapons.

"What was that?" whispered one of the soldiers, gazing up towards the wooden beams and seeing only darkness. "I don't—"

Two hands shot out, took hold of his head, and twisted, breaking his neck with a sickening crack. His body crumbled to the ground, while the others turned to watch in shock, unaware of what caused him to fall dead. They hurried forward, then another soldier followed, and Len could immediately tell there was another assassin in the room with them.

"Damn it!" She drew her blades, looking up at the dark ceiling, where only a bit of moonlight filtered through the cracks between the boards. The knight gritted his teeth, drawing his own blade. "We're sitting ducks here. We have to keep moving!"

Len clicked her tongue. "Just... run!"

The remaining three men made for the door, only to be halted by a female form that dropped from above. She fell on a knee and slowly rose, weapons in hand and smirking at the Crow. Leliana's seductive voice reached their ears, men fidgeted nervously. "Sorry, but I can't allow you to go any further."

"Who in damnation are you?" Len spat at the stranger's intrusion. These bastards had her coin and she had to make sure they lived to make it to the Grey Warden.

"Someone whose friend you took," she answered with a hint of anger.

Len arched a red eyebrow. "So you're another Grey Warden? I thought there were only two left."

"I am no Warden but I am their comrade nonetheless. And I will make you regret ever crossing our path." Leliana bent the knees, dropping into a fighting stance while flipping her blades. And she bolted into motion, darting towards Howe's knight.

A loud clank was heard when her daggers clashed against Len's, the Crow having jumped in between the two. "Hurry and go! I'll take care of her," she shouted, struggling against Leliana's strength while the nun simply stared at her through icy blue eyes.

The three men quickly went around, dashing for the door. Leliana tried to stop them but Len moved to stand in her way, glowering at her. "You're gonna pay for getting in my way!"

"We'll see about that." Leliana stepped up and struck at her, forcing the assassin to block. She parried her weapon out of the way and spun, swinging round. Len ducked to dodge, the blade swooshing over her head. They both slashed at each other, weapons clashing with each attack as their weapons flashed in the dark.

Leliana shifted, avoiding a slash before kicking at her feet. Flipping backward, Len avoided it, landing a distance away and reaching for the knives at her belt. She flung them in one fluid motion while Leliana ran, avoiding them as they stuck to the wall behind her.

"You can't beat me!" Len boasted, pulling her mask up and releasing one of her flasks. It landed by Leliana's feet, releasing a shroud of smoke that enveloped everything in the storeroom. And the Crow laughed, readying her daggers to go in for the kill when lithe arms snaked around her neck from behind, surprising her.

"Do you know what makes a good assassin?" Leliana whispered seductively into her ear, a delicate hand taking hold of the Crow's mask. "Immunity to your own tricks." She yanked her mask off, forcing her to breathe in the gas she'd just unleashed. Len gasped for air as the poison burned through her muscles, taking away her ability to move. It then paralyzed her lungs, robbing her of oxygen and suffocating her on the spot.

"I was trained to build resistance against such things by one of the best assassins in Orlais, you see. It seems you didn't receive the same sort of training." Leliana shook her head, clicking her tongue in mock pity. "Such a shame..." Having had enough of the squirming, she plunged her dagger into Len's back, the tip cutting through and out her chest. "May the Maker take you," she murmured in her ear one last time, then let her fall unceremoniously to the floor, blood pooling beneath her body as she struggled to breathe.

With her work done, Leliana swung her weapon clean and sheathed it at her hip. She glanced at the door the soldiers used to enter the brothel. They'd slipped past her and were no doubt reaching the Wardens by now. Which meant they probably needed her help.

"Curses…" She spun on her heel and rushed out of the room. While the Crow watched her go, left to bleed out in the dark, alone, and terrified.

.x.x.x.x.

Everil groaned as her body gradually regained feeling, her muscles tingling with the blood flow. She and Alistair had left the room and were trudging along the empty hallway, with her still clinging to him out of fear of falling. They could hear music and laughter coming from the bar, while sounds of pleasure came from the rooms they passed. Everyone around them was clearly having a good time, oblivious to their presence. And they had to keep it that way, so they moved quietly and as quickly as they possibly could, given her unsteady steps.

"Easy…" Alistair whispered to her.

"I can't believe I let this happen," she muttered, disappointed in herself. They had so many important things to do against the Blight, yet here she was. In some stinking brothel after having been abducted like an idiot.

"This wasn't your fault. We couldn't have known Loghain would go this far to get to us."

"Yes, but..." she sighed tiredly, shaking her head. "I slowed us down…"

He chuckled and grinned lightly at her. "Nah... Don't worry. We'll return to the ritual dismemberments by supper tomorrow and then we'll be back on schedule. I'm sure the darkspawn will be patiently waiting for us."

Everil laughed lightly. "Right."

After a few more steps, she felt her footing become steadier, giving her a little more confidence in her balance. "I think… I think I'm all right now." She paused and withdrew her arm from about his shoulders, careful to hold her own.

Alistair frowned worriedly. "Are you sure?"

She smiled a little. "Yes, I'm sure."

Heavy footsteps and the clanking of armor drew their attention away from each other as three well-armed men emerged from around the corner down the hall. They came to a halt a distance from them, effectively blocking their way out. A knight led the small group, face hidden behind his helmet while the two soldiers behind him regarded them with severe looks.

"Oh, great…" Alistair grumbled, gently pushing Everil behind him to stand between her and Howe's men.

"Two Grey Wardens? I was under the impression that the other was to be killed as agreed. It seems the assassins failed in their task," the knight spoke, a smirk in his voice. "No matter. Neither of you will get away now."

Alistair pulled out his blade, staring him down. "Wanna bet?"

"What does Howe want with me?" Everil questioned from over his shoulder. "He's already stolen everything from my family. Is he not satisfied?"

"That's for Teyrn Howe to decide." He calmly, reached out to her, sword in hand. "Now, Warden Cousland, please come with us to the Teyrn's Denerim estate. I promise you won't be harmed… at least not yet."

"Sorry but she's not going anywhere with you," Alistair stepped in with a threatening glare. "There's only three of you now, so I take it two of your men didn't survive our rogue. Make the smart choice and leave us alone. There doesn't need to be any more bloodshed."

"I can't do that," the knight declined in a cocky tone. "I have orders to bring her in alive. And if that means going through you, then that's what I'll do. I might as well claim the bounty on your head while I'm at it."

"Fine…" Alistair aimed his sword at him. "Then go ahead and try."

"Get them!" the knight cried out as he and his men charged.

The Warden blocked his attack, blades screeching as he parried him off and drove his sword into the wall beside them. With a roar, the knight plucked it from the wood boards and slashed sideways, foolishly leaving himself open. Alistair thrust in, piercing the armor and plunging his sword into his gut and out his back.

Before he could pull the blade out of him, a soldier came rushing from around him. Alistair blocked his blade with a gauntlet, let go of his weapon and grabbed him before slamming him onto the wall, the man's head bouncing off of it on impact. Seeing colors, the soldier dropped to the ground, disarmed and in a daze. Another cry was heard as the third enemy stormed towards the Wardens with a blade. Alistair stepped up to the now kneeling knight, put a foot to his chest, and shoved, reclaiming his sword in time to block the next one's attack.

"You're gonna be mine, Grey Warden!" he roared, breaking the stalemate and slashing sideways, while Alistair avoided it. Their weapons then met once more.

"Sorry but you're not my type," Alistair taunted with a wink, pushing against him. He drew back and struck, multiple clanks resonating in the narrow corridor as their weapons clashed again and again. Behind them, a few patrons and prostitutes poked their heads out from their rooms, covering their bodies with sheets and furs while voicing their confusion. The soldier who had been left shaken on the floor let out a curse and slowly pushed himself up, searching for his sword.

"Looking for this?"

He gazed up to see the blade being pointed at him by the woman he'd been sent to capture. His hand flew to a dagger at his belt and he swung, knocking the sword away. Everil gritted her teeth, her grip holding in spite of the tingling in her muscles. She held the hilt with both hands and blocked another strike, ignoring the pain while her arms screamed under the strain. Her blood pumped as her limbs regained their motion, her strength returning along with it. She pushed him off and spun, leading with the pommel and hitting the side of his head, briefly stunning him.

She withdrew and thrust, seeking to end him. But although recovering, he was still faster than her. The man narrowly dodged it, took hold of her arm, and shoved her. Her back hit the wall, then she was thrown to the floor and on her knees. He grabbed her from behind and lifted her, wrapping an arm about her neck to choke her into submission. "Give up and come quietly, Cousland!" he yelled into her ear, pressing the dagger to her side.

Alistair quickly glanced over the shoulder upon hearing him and then punched the one he'd been fighting, knocking him back. His blade then found his stomach, running him through before he pushed him and whirled about, intent on saving her. But as she found herself trapped, anger and the primal urge to survive surged within her.

With an enraged scream, Everil brought her legs up and kicked the wall in front of her, sending them crashing onto the one across from it. The dagger nicked at her armor on impact, but his hold on her loosened just enough for her to wedge herself free. She whirled around and slashed, cutting open his neck and sending red spraying over her and the floorboards. His body crumbled to its knees as he choked in his own blood, then dropped forward with a thud.

Running steps drew her wide eyes to Alistair, her hands still clasping the weapon.

"Hey, are you all right?" He gently cupped her cheek, his touch snapping her out of her fight or flight trance.

"Y-Yes..." Everil replied shakily, dropping the bloodied blade and letting it clatter by her feet.

"Good. Let's get out of here." He took her hand and pulled her with him through the rest of the corridor, heading for the tavern. Behind them, the men and women warily left their rooms, gazing at the bleeding corpses.

Both Wardens emerged from the hallway and into the walkway above the bar, halting in their tracks when several patrons spotted them. "Hey, those are Grey Wardens!" one of them yelled above the noise, echoed by others as they spotted their bright griffon armor, having been too preoccupied trying to escape to keep them hidden.

"Aren't Grey Wardens criminals?" another yelled drunkenly.

"Aye, Aye… There's a bounty on them… A nice, big one."

Alistair swallowed and stepped protectively in front of her when some of them rose from their seats and armed themselves. This was all they needed. To battle a room full of drunks, with one of them barely able to fight. He clenched his jaw, tightening the grip on his weapon. "Damn it…"

"Why are they covered in blood?" a woman asked, covering her mouth as she gasped. "Did they kill someone upstairs?"

As if on cue, the knight from earlier had somehow managed to get up and follow them, limping out from the corridor and dragging his sword behind him. He roared and tried to swing it at them, crimson dripping heavily from his open gut. Alistair brought his blade up to block the feeble attack, deflecting it to the side and away from them. Weakened by blood loss, the knight lost his balance and stumbled before Alistair kicked him over the rail, sending him plummeting to the floor below. He crashed onto a table, destroying it and sending the occupants screaming away from the corpse.

The entire place grew quiet, then whispers of the violent and traitorous nature of Grey Wardens filled the silence. Everil felt a spark of anger at their fearful, hateful words, her narrowed stare traveling over the small crowd of undesirables. It was unclear to her if whatever the Crow did to her was clouding her judgment or if she was stressed to the breaking point. But she was sick of it. Tired of it all.

She and Alistair were risking their lives trying to save this country and the very people currently judging them. But while she thought these people utterly ungrateful, their ignorance was not the real recipient of her ire. Loghain was the one constantly placing obstacles in their path and spreading these lies to the common folk, allied with the man who took everything from her. There was no doubt this scene was about to bolster the rumors both traitors have concocted about them, aggravating their already dire situation, and further tarnishing their reputation.

A scowl dawned over her features and she stepped around Alistair, seeking to put an end to those dark whispers.

"Everil…" he called softly, gently grabbing her arm, only to be silenced when she raised a hand to stop him. He reluctantly let her go, concern creasing his brow.

Everil put on an obstinate expression, approaching the railing with confidence. There was no way she would allow the liars and the traitors to paint them as being on the wrong side of history. They needed to learn that they wouldn't be silenced. To be shown they couldn't stop them or slander them out of existence. And this crowd of sailors, soldiers, merchants, and whores would serve as their messengers.

"Know that I was dragged here against my will by assassins hired by none other than Teyrn Loghain," she spoke in a voice filled with conviction as her eyes surveyed the room, seeing them listen while some carried stunned expressions. "We Grey Wardens were therefore forced to defend ourselves against them and against those who still seek to end our lives in his name. Loghain claims we betrayed the king at Ostagar..." Her words grew louder, laced with contempt. "We say he killed our king when he rode off with his men and left us all to die at darkspawn hands! We Grey Wardens say he's a traitor to you and to all of Ferelden!"

A few gasps were heard, while others grumbled protests. Leliana stood just outside of view, listening to her talk with a small smile.

Everil continued, lifting her chin proudly. "He tries to silence our truth by sending assassins to do his bidding or by using falsehoods to turn you against us! But know that in spite of his efforts to foil us, we shall not rest until the Blight is defeated and Loghain is brought to justice for his betrayal!" She brought her fist down on the wooden rail, her sharp stare upon them. "Let the deaths of this knight and his men be a warning to all who dare stand in our way! For nothing—and no one—will ever stop us in our fight against the darkspawn threat that comes for you all! Nothing and no one—not even a false king—will ever keep justice from us!" She raised her fist, crying out, "Justice for the Grey Wardens! And justice for King Cailan!"

She didn't know if it was the ale talking, but to her surprise, the majority of the crowd cheered. They banged their hands and pints on their tables, howling and cheering for her. While behind her, Alistair regarded her with quiet admiration, his chest swelling with pride. Maker… She's something else…

A hooded Zevran watched from a dark corner in amazement. This woman had been ill just moments ago, yet she still managed to command the authority of a general. The way she talked and that regal posture as she stood, covered in her enemy's blood while addressing whores and drunks with unwavering blue eyes. It was the most inspiring thing he'd ever witnessed, producing in him the intense desire to follow her. He wished to be part of this quest of hers and fight for her. To watch her back and lend her his blades.

Perhaps… With a smirk, he made for the door, his mind now set.

Everil faced Alistair with renewed strength. "Let's get out of here."

He offered her a half-smile, happy to see her back to her old self. "Lead on."

A relieved Leliana watched them from the shadows, then turned to leave through the same path from where she came. The Grey Wardens made their way down the stairs and through the crowd of cheering drunks, who parted for them and let them pass. They exited the brothel, leaving behind those who would soon spread their words throughout Denerim and beyond.

.x.x.x.x.

Morrigan was listening to the ocean and staring off at the docked ships when Bjorn let out an excited bark. She gazed towards The Pearl as the others did the same, seeing the pair walking in their direction. It seemed the Warden was unharmed, and she found herself a little surprised by the hint of relief that brought her. Still, she glared at them in irritation as they approached. "'Tis about time."

The hound ran to Everil, panting happily, while she took a knee to scratch behind his ear. "I'm sorry I worried you, boy."

"He wasn't the only one, young lady. We were all concerned. I'm glad to see both of you are safe," said Wynne, clasping her aging hands over her skirts.

"You left us to follow Alistair, of all people. Utterly irresponsible," Morrigan muttered, crossing her arms.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes. Because the hermit witch would've done a much better job."

Everil hopelessly shook her head, already feeling better upon being reunited with them. Only, there was one missing, her red hair nowhere to be seen. She frowned quizzically. "Where's Leliana?"

"She was to sneak in and try to take care of the men we fought earlier…" Alistair replied, glancing at the brothel. "I assumed she would be back by now."

"I am back."

Their heads spun to their rogue's velvet voice, seeing her by a stack of crates a distance behind them. And she wasn't alone. A hooded figure was standing before her, white teeth showing as he grinned, unfazed by the dagger currently pressed against his neck.

Everil blinked. "That's…"

"It's that damn Crow who attacked us before." Alistair glowered at him. "What do you want? Did you come to finish the job?"

The elf raised both hands as he was forced to step towards the Wardens, the woman's blade gracing his skin. "Oh, yes…" Zevran put on a teasing smirk. "You could say I came for another kiss..."

"You—" Alistair went to draw his sword but Everil's hand on his chest stopped him.

"Wait," she commanded, keeping hard eyes on Zevran.

The elf chuckled at the other man's reaction. He was outnumbered, but that didn't mean he couldn't at least have a little fun. Amused, Zevran scrutinized their little group. He hadn't expected them to have these many oddballs but it wasn't like he was all that normal himself. "So what is to be my fate, hm? Am I to be torn apart by the family dog?" he jested, earning a menacing growl from the hound.

"No…" Everil stepped closer, regarding him cooly. "Fortunately for you, I honor the deals I make. Though, there is one thing I want to do to you."

"Oh? My lips must have softened you up a little…" Zevran snickered shamelessly. "What is it, hm? Perhaps another—" Her hand connected with his cheek, the slap echoing through the narrow alleyway. He blinked the colors away, face burning as he returned his gaze to her. "All right, maybe not…"

She gave him a dignified stare, adjusting her cloak. "You may have helped me back there but no one touches me without my permission."

"Fair enough," Zevran laughed, attempting to recover from the blow to his pride while licking his lips. "Now that that's out of the way… May I make a humble request?"

"Make it quick," she said curtly, hands over her hips. He had spared her life when he could have easily killed her, the least she could do was listen to him.

He smirked slyly. "That little speech you gave back there made me realize that my purpose in life has been rather... dull. I feel it is time for a change. Let me join your cause."

The group exchanged glances, not expecting the request after his assassins abducted and nearly killed two of their own.

"Quite daring of you, elf," Morrigan pointed out with a raised brow, thinking him either brave or stupid.

Alistair sternly stepped in. "No. He's not to be trusted, and I damn well don't want to have to watch my back every night because of him."

"I agree." Everil set her hard stare upon him. "How can we trust you? For all I know, you could try to kill us again in our sleep."

Zevran chuckled. "Your caution is understandable but you must know how the Crows work. I couldn't go back to them now even if I wanted to. They would do away with me on the spot for failing to kill you the first time. Not to mention they'll be looking for me the moment they get word of my failure."

"How do I know you speak the truth?"

"He's speaking the truth," Leliana interjected with a serious expression. "If a Crow can't kill their target on the first attempt, they're considered unreliable. That means the guild will send others to hunt and execute them."

"It's sort of like… damage control," Zevran half-joked, grinning at the Wardens. "And a little incentive for us to get the job done right at any cost. After all, if the assassin fails and the target lives, their failure can spread like wildfire and make the Crows look bad. That damages the guild's image as the most fearsome assassins in all of Thedas. And believe you me, they very much value their reputation."

Wynne eyed him warily. "Does that not mean they will send more assassins our way if you followed us?"

He shrugged a shoulder at her. "Yes. But I know their tricks. They would not catch us by surprise. Of course, that also means they might send more to try and finish my job. Your friends will probably not be safe from them either… at least for a while."

Alistair huffed. "Wonderful..."

"Which means it would be beneficial for you to bring me along. I can warn you ahead of time if I smell a Crow nearby." He smiled teasingly, standing proudly.

"I'd rather take our chances. We defeated you already. We can do it again," Alistair said, glaring at him.

"I don't know…" Everil crossed her arms, a hand on her chin. "He seemed capable back at the brothel."

"Yeah, capable enough to stab you in the back." He shook his head and arched a questioning eyebrow at her. "Are you seriously considering taking him with us?"

She nodded confidently. "Grey Wardens don't turn away help when it is offered. Not during a Blight."

"Yes, but we usually take it from people who didn't just try to kill us."

Zevran and the rest looked back and forth between the two, watching their exchange.

"I don't think he will try anything." Everil insisted, tone firm. "Not after everything he's told us. I think we should give him a chance."

A sigh escaped him. "Everil, I don't trust him."

"Then trust me, instead. You're right to be cautious, but based on what Zevran said, we need him. If not for his skills, then as a precaution against others from his guild."

Alistair turned away from her, folding his arms and exhaling in exasperation. He utterly disliked the idea. Especially after what the elf pulled on her earlier. But, whether he liked it or not, she was right in that the benefits ultimately outweighed the risks. So he had to think as a Warden and agree, even if he hated his guts. "If there weren't a sign that we were desperate before, I think it just walked up and said hello," he grumbled, disapproving eyes going back to her. "Fine. He can come with us… But—" He shot the elf a suspicious glare. "—I'll be watching him."

"All right." Everil offered him a reassuring smile, then addressed Zevran, reaching for a handshake. "You're on board."

"Thank you, my lady." He shook her hand, his sly grin broadening before he bent over to gently kiss it. "I am your man to do as you wish. I will fight for you and follow you until the edge of the world for as long as I am in your service. This I swear."

"Oh, but this is gonna be great..." Alistair stalked past them, heading deeper into the alley without looking back.

She sighed helplessly. "Thank you, Zevran…"

Their journey just kept getting better and better.