Sorry for the wait, guys.
This chapter was really hard to write, and I'm still not happy with it, but I'm posting it anyway. We finally meet our favorite Antivan assassin, along with a certain lovable statue...
Again, a HUGE thank you to everyone who favorited, followed, and reviewed this story. Love you guys :)
Zevran
He wakes up.
With a bitch of a headache he might add, though he doesn't remember drinking last night...
His back isn't pleased with him either... probably because he's on the damned ground. Why is he here?
"Mmm... what?" he groans, finally opening his eyes. "I... oh."
Before him stands the three Grey Wardens he was tasked to kill: A tall blonde man, a tall dark-haired man, and a pretty little elven woman, along with several others who don't seem to like him very much. A mabari, a grey-haired mage woman, and a dark-haired witch.
He isn't restrained, as far as he can tell. And the only thing he's missing is his weapons. And he can understand why they'd take those; he'd tried to stab them with them. Which brings the question... why is he still alive?
"Oh. I rather thought I would wake up dead," he admits. "Or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you haven't killed me yet."
"We had a few questions for you," the dark-haired Grey Warden says. That probably makes him the leader, Zevran supposes.
"Ah, so I'm to be interrogated then? Let me save you a bit of time," he offers. "My name is Zevran. Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly."
The elven woman shrugs. "I'm rather happy you failed."
Zevran grins at her. "So would I be, in your shoes. For me, however, it sets a rather poor precedent, doesn't it? Getting captured by a target seems a tad bit detrimental to one's budding assassin career."
She shrugs again. "Too bad for you, then."
"Yes, it's true," he says sadly. "Too bad for me."
"And who hired you to kill us?" she asks, crossing her arms.
"A rather taciturn fellow in the capital," Zevran recalls. "Loghain, I think his name was. Yes, that's it."
The blonde fellow looks angry at this. "I knew it," he curses under his breath.
"Does that mean you are loyal to Loghain?" the elven woman continues.
"I have no idea what his issues are with you," Zevran admits. "The usual, I imagine. You threaten his power, yes? Beyond that, no. I am not loyal to him. I was contracted to preform a service."
"And now that you've failed that service?"
Zevran chuckles. "Well, that is between Loghain and the Crows. And between the Crows and myself."
She arches a fine brow at him. "And between you and me?"
"Isn't that what we're establishing now?"
A half-smile curls her lips. "Yes, I suppose so. When were you to see Loghain next?"
"I wasn't. If I had succeeded, I would have returned home and the Crows would have informed your Loghain of the results... if he didn't already know. If I had failed, I would be dead. Or I should be, at least as far as the Crows are concerned. No need to see Loghain then."
She doesn't look very happy at this. "If you had failed?"
"What can I say? I'm an eternal optimist. Although the chances of succeeding at this point seem a bit slim, don't they?" He laughs. "No, I don't suppose you'd find that funny, would you?"
"How much were you paid?" The dark-haired mage asks.
"I wasn't paid anything," Zevran reveals. "The Crows, however, were paid quite handsomely. Or so I understand. Which does make me about as poor as a Chantry mouse, come to think of it. Being an Antivan Crow isn't for the ambitious, to be perfectly honest."
The she-elf tilts her head to the side. "Then why are you one?"
"Well," Zevran sighs, "aside from a distinct lack of ambition I suppose it's because I wasn't given much of a choice. The Crows bought me young. I was a bargain, or so I'm led to believe."
She looks horrified, her eyes meeting the male mage's.
"But don't let my sad story influence you. The Crows aren't so bad," Zevran insists. "They keep one well supplied: Wine, women, men; whatever you happen to fancy. Though the whole severance package is garbage, let me tell you. If you were considering joining, I'd really think twice about it."
"Thanks," she laughs. "I'll take that under advisement."
"You seem like a bright girl," he comments. "I'm sure you've other options."
"So why are you telling us all this?" the male mage asks.
Zevran shrugs. "Why not? I wasn't paid for silence. Not that I offered it for sale, precisely."
"Aren't you at least loyal to your employers?"
"Loyalty is an interesting concept," he answers. "If you wish, and you're done interrogating me, we can discuss it further."
He looks at the elven mage for a moment, who gives a slight nod of her head. The man turns back to Zevran. "We're listening."
"Well, here's the thing," Zevran starts. "I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That's how it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will. Thing is, I like living. And you obviously are the type to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you, instead."
And that's when the argument starts.
Avina
In the end, though Alistair and Morrigan don't agree with the decision, they take Zevran with them.
He's quite the charmer, Avina learns, as they start looking for a place to camp for the night.
"You know, I've heard stories of your Circle of the Magi," he says casually to the three Circle mages.
"Is that so?" Wynne asks, sounding confused.
"There is a Circle in my country, of course," he tells them, "but perhaps things are different here. I visited the Antivan Circle on official Crow business, once. Met a beautiful young apprentice who was very eager for a taste of the outside world..." he winks at Avina, who flushes at the implication.
"Please, please get to the point," Wynne sighs.
"All I wonder is if the Templars guard the mages here as they do in Antiva. In Antiva, the Templars watch the Circle like a jealous husband guarding the chastity of a wanton bride."
Daylen lets out a bark of laughter, while Avina's brows lower.
"An interesting metaphor," Wynne grits out, "but yes, it is not too different in Ferelden."
"And is it also true," Zevran continues, "that when the moon swells to fullness, the mages of the Circle gather at the top floor of the tower and, naked under the stars, make love to each other?"
Daylen's laughter is uncontrollable now as he doubles over at the expression on Wynne's face. Even Avina has to admit it is rather priceless...
"What?!" Wynne sputters, incredulous. "No! Maker's breath..."
"Oh," Zevran sighs sadly. "I found out recently that it was not true in Antiva and hoped that it would be in Ferelden. Alas."
Vulgar as he may be, Avina thinks she's found a new friend.
They reach Redcliffe in late morning, and everything appears to be under control. The villagers are all fine, and Murdock tells them they've seen no trouble from the castle since they left.
They reach the castle quickly, and they're relieved to see that the gates are still open, which means it's still under their control.
Teagan, Isolde and Jowan are in the same spot that they left them in; Avina only hopes they haven't slept there.
"Well?" Isolde asks worriedly. "What happened?"
"The mages are on their way as we speak," Daylen assures her. "They should be here soon."
Isolde almost cries with relief, all but collapsing into Teagan's arms.
In the time it takes Irving and the other Circle mages to arrive, Avina and Daylen contemplate who alone will go into the Fade and face the demon.
The trouble is, everyone is willing to go. Avina, Daylen, Morrigan, Wynne, and even Jowan have volunteered.
Jowan is counted out almost immediately. Not that he isn't capable, but he's never encountered a demon in the Fade. Sending him would be a gamble, and they can't afford that at this point.
And Wynne may be an excellent healer, but she has few primal and entropy spells.
Five minutes into the discussion, Morrigan retracts her offer, complaining that they need to make up their minds.
That leaves Daylen and Avina. They aren't exactly arguing, but as everyone is in on the conversation they can't seem to agree. Sten doesn't trust mages at all, believing they should have just killed the boy. Wynne and Leliana support Avina going, but Morrigan and Alistair think Daylen should.
"Avina is balanced," Wynne states. "She can heal herself and she knows a few primal and entropic spells."
"Daylen is a battlemage," Morrigan counters. "He can handle himself."
"Why doesn't your senior mage go?" Sten grumbles. "Your first enchanter?"
"Whoever goes into the Fade will likely encounter Connor," Leliana reminds them. "Avina is good with children."
"Be that as it may, Daylen has been a mage longer," Alistair says. "He's older and has more experience."
Avina raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn't question his choice. Only the most logical option must go, after all.
And this was how it had been going for the past half an hour.
Teagan pokes his head into the room. "The mages have arrived," he informs them.
Avina nods. "Thank you, Bann Teagan. We'll be there in a moment."
Teagan leaves, and everyone is quiet for a moment. Then Daylen claps his hands together loudly, breaking the silence and making a couple of them flinch.
"You heard him. Everyone, head over to the main hall. Avina and I will be there in a moment."
Avina blinks in surprise, glancing over at Daylen, but he won't meet her eyes. One by one, their companions leave the room. Before he leaves, Alistair squeezes her shoulder reassuringly.
When they are alone, Daylen finally turns to her. He looks worn, tired. "I want you to go into the Fade."
"What?" Avina stutters. Last she checked, Daylen didn't care for her or her skills. "Why?"
"Remember Sloth?" he asks. "He was powerful, but all we had to do was keep going until he ran out of strength. If I'm the one who goes into the Fade, I won't be able to keep up the attack if I'm injured. You, on the other hand, can keep going indefinitely. Wynne is right; you are the best choice."
Her mouth opens and shuts, but she can't speak for a few moments. "But... but-"
He grabs her by the arm and starts leading her out of the room. "Come on, then," he orders. "You've got a boy to save. Best get to it, yes?"
Alistair
It might be selfish of him, but Alistair doesn't want Avina going into the Fade.
It's just... he knows how it feels to be helpless while she's in danger. He doesn't like it. At all.
So if he has the chance to keep her safe, to keep her out of danger, he's going to take it. Besides, Daylen has this covered, right? He's perfectly capable of facing down the demon. And as far as he can tell, Daylen doesn't really like her. He's always struck Alistair as an arrogant type, almost too confident in his skills.
At any rate, he doesn't have anything to worry about. He hopes.
He waits in the main hall with the others. But they don't have to wait long.
Only a couple minutes or so go by before Daylen and Avina return.
Irving comes up to meet them. "Ah, there you are. We have brought lyrium and begun preparation for the ritual. We can start anytime," he tells them.
Daylen nods. "Let's do it."
"I'm glad we decided to take this route," Alistair adds. "This is really the best option."
"Very well," Irving accepts. "I assume you are going into the Fade, or did you have someone else in mind?"
Daylen shakes his head. "Avina will go into the Fade."
"What?" Alistair gasps, his stomach dropping into his feet. Everyone ignores him.
"Good," Irving says. "Let us get the ritual underway, then."
The mages are set up in a room in the castle, and no one will be allowed in until Avina returns from the Fade.
Or until she dies in the Fade, losing all magical ability and becoming Tranquil.
He can't think about that. He can't. The thought of her, emotionless, a hollow shell, never to smile or blush or joke or laugh again...
He can't.
None of her companions are allowed into the room with her, but she asks everyone for a last bit of advice.
Daylen tells her not to be fooled by the demon in Connor's form. She will do everything in her power to keep a hold of the boy, even trying to appeal to Avina's mercy. He reminds her not to show this monster a shred of it.
Wynne tells her not to accept any deals the demon may offer. They may sound grand, glamorous and tempting, but the demon is only trying to keep her thrall.
Morrigan asks her not to take too long. Avina laughs, responding with "Love you too, Morrigan."
Alistair frowns.
Griffon licks a stripe up the side of her face from her jaw to her hairline, giving an affectionate bark. She wrinkles her nose as she chuckles fondly, rubbing his belly.
Sten tells her that killing the boy would have been easier, but he admits that she is brave to try to save him.
Leliana advises her to move quickly, not staying in the same place for too long. That would make it too easy for the demon to hunt her. The two hug before Leliana leaves the room.
Alistair is last, and he still doesn't know what to say.
"Hi," she says shyly.
"Hi," he responds, scratching the back of his neck. "Just... be careful in there, all right? I'd hate to lose another Warden." I'd hate to lose you.
She nods. "I will. I promise."
They stand there awkwardly for a moment. She glances at the door, as if she's dreading having to walk through it. He knows he is.
Before he realizes what's happening, she's thrown her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. For a few seconds he's too surprised to respond, but then he pulls her more tightly against him, resting his cheek on her head.
"Promise me you'll come back," he whispers.
Her squeezes him tightly before letting go, smiling up at him. "I promise. I'll be back before you can say darkspawn."
Then she walks back into the room and the door shuts behind her.
Avina
When she opens her eyes, she is alone.
With a deep breath through her mouth, she stretches her limbs and weighs her staff in her hand, making sure everything is as she remembers. With a wave of her hand, a purple glow shrouds her body in it's protective shield and a wisp forms above her, ready to aid her spells.
She is ready.
She takes off at a light jog, glancing every which way. Ghosts of Connor and Eamon seem to be everywhere, but they are just that. Ghosts. When she tries to touch one, her hand goes right through his shoulder.
She can hear Eamon crying out for his son. Connor answers with the frightened question of where he is.
When she sees the real Eamon, she approaches him.
He doesn't recognize that they're in the Fade, and he doesn't seem to realize that he and his son are in danger.
"Connor tried to save you after you were poisoned. When he did, a demon found and possessed him."
Eamon goes white. "Possessed? Then... we must help him! Is... that why you're here?"
"Yes," she promises. "I am here to help Connor escape the demon's grasp. You must trust me."
He gazes at her for a moment, scrutinizing her, and sighs. "I... I trust you. We must help my son. But I can never find him in this damnable fog. You must find him. Please. I beg you..."
"Listen to me, Eamon," she cautions. "When I kill the demon, Connor will wake up and you will be alone. But you mustn't lose hope; do not leave. If you do, it will mean you will die. I will save you once I am done helping Connor, I swear."
"Very well," Eamon agrees. "I will remain here, but... please save my son."
"I will not leave without him, I promise."
It feels as if she's running around in circles as sweat runs down her brow when she finally finds Connor in what appears to be a child's bedroom.
Connor's eyes narrow in suspicion. "Who are you?" he demands. Her heart sinks; this is not the true Connor. "Are you the one that made father ill? Tell me now!"
"You are not Connor. Only a demon in disguise."
He crosses his arms. "You could be a demon, too! You could be a demon that just looks like a person."
"Oh really?" she snaps back. "Do demons often hunt each other, then?"
"Fool!" the demon snarls. "You won't get near her! I won't let you!"
It is another several minutes before she finds him again.
"Why do you keep hurting me?" he asks. This cannot be Connor either. "Why are you trying to stop me?"
"Begone, demon," she commands, "and impede me no further."
"You will not find what you seek," he insists. "Turn back, now!"
She lifts her chin. "I will save Connor from her if I must tear him from her cold, dead claws."
"Tresspasser!" he cries. "I will drive you out!"
There must be many, many demons acting as Connor here, she realizes. The desire demon must have them here not only as protection, but to keep Eamon wandering the Fade.
Avina finds another in what looks to be a library.
"Father wanders, seeking me, trapped within my web. All is as it should be. Why must you interfere?"
"Because you interfere where you should not, demon," she replies.
"Connor invited her to come," the demon argues, "and they struck a bargain. She has every right to do as she wishes. No. It is time for you to go now. Do not persist, or things will go very badly for you."
She doesn't even need to say that she will not be leaving without Connor; the demon lunges forward for her, changing forms mid-flight.
Instead of finding another Connor replica, the next time she travels through a portal she walks into what can only be where the desire demon lives.
Fear clenches in her stomach, but Avina trudges forward to meet her anyway, purpose in every step.
"Well, well," the demon greets, her clawed hands sweeping over her lovely curves. "At last we meet face-to-face, little blood mage."
Avina's eyes widen. "I am not... I'm not a blood-"
The demon cuts her off with a laugh. "Don't lie to me, blood mage. I can see it on your soul. You may not use it, but you have the capability, don't you?"
Avina grits her teeth, choosing not to answer.
"I have no wish to fight you," the demon informs her. "Perhaps we could converse instead?"
"There will be no discussion," Avina refuses firmly, shifting her stance.
"Alas," the demon sighs. "That is sad. Very well then, if you wish a battle, you will have it. Let us see if you power matches your boldness, creature."
Alistair
Alistair taps his foot as he sits in one of the chairs outside the door. Before him, Teagan paces the floor while Isolde wrings a silk handkerchief.
Griffon lays just outside the door, his ears as close as possible without the possibility of getting hit if it were to open. Leliana sits beside him, stroking his fur.
"You are such a handsome dog," she tells him. "I think that every time I look at you."
Griffon's stubby tail wags and he gives a happy bark.
"Lady Cecilie - I lived with her after my mother died - had a dog. A small one, bred to fit under the arm and in the lap," she recalls. "What did she call it? Oh, yes. Bon-Bon. Bon-Bon was a terror. He would hide, you know, when he saw you coming... And then he would attack your ankles. Razor-sharp teeth in the ankles... very painful.
"He attacked me once," she continues. "Latched onto my leg. I thought it was a diseased rat and kicked. Bon-Bon flew across the room and over the banister. He survived, but he never came near me after that."
Griffon makes a huffing sound, and the room once more goes quiet.
Alistair counts the taps of his foot, trying to think of anything other than what they faced at the Circle.
Tap tap tap.
Or what's happening in the Fade right now.
Tap tap tap.
With Eamon's son.
Tap tap tap.
And -
The door slams open, scaring everyone in the room. Griffon, Leliana, and Alistair leap to their feet. Teagan whirls around. Isolde barely manages to cover her mouth before she screams.
When Alistair sees her in the doorway, smiling, breathing hard, alive and well, he can't stop the relieved grin that spreads across his face.
"It's done," she says simply.
Shale
Shale did not expect this.
These... darkspawn creatures don't seem interested in Shale; but the villagers are chased into their homes, killed, and mounted on spikes or hung around the village as if on display.
How amusing.
It's the first change Shale has seen in a long time. It is a welcome one, especially if it brings justice to the moronic humans who deserve it.
But even this grows boring after a time. The darkspawn only care about one thing: killing. True, the humans weren't much different, so dreadfully simple, so horribly squishy.
Shale wonders how long it will take for either the darkspawn to destroy everything, or for someone to come to fight them.
As it turns out, the latter happens first.
A group of squishy creatures - mostly mages, ironically - make their way through the village after a while, killing every darkspawn in their way. Four mages, two warriors, two rogues, and a dog.
Hopefully this one will keep it's urine to itself.
Shale doesn't remember ever seeing such battle prowess from flesh creatures. The larger warrior, especially, with it's greatsword and gray skin.
Eventually every darkspawn that was outside lies slain, and two of the mages approach Shale. The taller one pulls out something long and skinny; something Shale recognizes as a control rod.
"Dulef gar," it calls.
Nothing happens.
"Curse that merchant..." it hisses under it's breath while the others scratch their heads and look around.
"Maybe the rod is broken," the smaller mage says.
"We should check the houses anyway. If anyone survived, that's where they'll be," the taller mage states, and the group leaves.
And just when Shale was becoming entertained.
Tel'abelas.
Next chapter: Andraste's Ashes