Alim was more successful in dismissing him to rest, and having had good reason to acquire a knack for sleeping anywhere, actually managed to drift off into a restless, jerky dreamscape, leaping from image to image, all disquieting and the moreso for never being fully formed. Crows and darkspawn, Tali and Rinna, bits and pieces of lives that had been over for a long time, one way or another, or had yet to be ended but would surely come to grief soon.
He was trying to fight his way to Rinna, not for the first time or the hundredth, change anything, anything at all about what even his dream self knew had happened. She was held by those horrid shrieks, the ones that made him cringe more than any other creature from the dark for reasons he wasn't entirely clear on, but that was close enough to the betrayal of comrades in arms. He took long, slow steps, like he was forcing his way through wind and water, and never drew any closer.
The typical stuff of nightmares. What Crow had ever slept easy? He almost didn't mind, half aware as he tended to be in dreams. The ruthlessly organic sound of a blade tearing messily through flesh and bone was more vivid than usual. It didn't seem fair. He suddenly staggered forward, landing precisely where he would have to meet dead eyes and spattered blood. This, too, was business as usual. His dreams were not subtle.
What was new was the color of those eyes, a deeper, colder brown without hints of gold, shadowy and distant as a Fereldan moonrise. The shape, too, deep-set and hooded instead of classically almond-shaped. In life they were be mischievous and a bit bewildered, not wicked and wild.
Alim. Alim lay before him, not Rinna, already hopelessly cold.
He woke with a soft gasp, being gently prodded by Alistair's foot. "Come on, Zev, so many darkspawn to slay."
"How delightful." He was used to pushing back demons from the waking world, and he hauled himself up without more acknowledgment than a groan that had just as much to do with being stiff and cold.
If he was a little more worried about Alim that day, and the next, and so on, he wasn't really going to admit it to himself. Why would he? Everything was fairly worrisome in a horrible hole in the ground full of monsters. He didn't have Alim's horror of Orzammar, finding the laws a simplified version of what was to be found everywhere and the politics practically homey, but he was beginning to come around on objecting to the closed-in spaces that never seemed to end, that produced horrors even Antivan slums could not quite equal.
He was never tolerating spiders again, certainly.
But they all got out, battered and with new twitches and nightmares to add to the collection anyone strange enough to be a Warden's companion carried about with them. Alim limped back most of the way leaning on someone's arm, usually Alistair's. He'd been clipped by a darkspawn mace and had bits of golem bounce off his shin. He insisted on carrying Caridin's crown, though he practically dragged it in a burlap sack, apparently hoping it would shut up any dwarves they met if the more talkative Grey Warden could shake it in their faces.
Zevran was behind him and Alistair, hurriedly scanning their surroundings at every slight noise and feeling he'd never be properly warm, dry, and not in the presence of spiders again, and he tried to focus on the two of them rambling. It was more amusing than his aching feet and the stinging itch of a hastily bandaged gouge from a leghold trap improperly disarmed.
"What if we just take it to the assembly chamber and toss it in the middle of the floor, and we'll just tell them, 'Paragon says whoever touches it first gets the throne.'"
"I don't think that's a very good idea. What if two of them got there at once? We'll be back where we began."
"Alright, we'll give it to that woman who gave us pointers in Dusttown. Nice lady. She could use a break. Be queen."
"How hard did you hit your head?"
"I did not hit my head. Someone else hit it for me. But really. We could give it to anyone. Who did you like? I didn't like anybody."
"Your plans aren't usually this terrible. I'm worried, is all."
"You wouldn't let me have Zev assassinate them. I'm just trying to find a good solution."
Feeling summoned, Zevran hurried forward just enough to be slightly in Alistair's way. "I can still do some assassinating. Won't they be surprised then!"
"No! No assassinations! Ugh, give my arm a rest. You two deserve each other." Alistair unceremoniously transferred Alim to Zevran's arm with so little warning they nearly fell over. "Oh, oops, I didn't mean to actually drop you, just pretend to. Are you alright?"
"No, I'm going to die. You'll be sad, then." Alistair sighed to show them how put upon he was and moved to talk armor maintenance with Oghren. Alim tried to stand up straighter, not putting as much weight on a crutch who was also limping a bit and the same height he was. "He'd be terribly sad. He'd have to put up with all of you alone."
"That would be awful for the poor man. We must keep you alive." Zevran wanted to enjoy this, but there came a point where even he was just too bone-tired. "Morrigan would eat him alive."
"Poor Alistair."
Alright, he had to make some showing, or he'd start to worry himself. Alim wasn't competent to hold up his end of the banter right now. "And besides, that is such a charming face to allow to be damaged."
"Well, that's a... What did you do again?"
"I discovered the hard way that Leliana hadn't quite disarmed a trap."
"Such a charming... calf, thereabouts, I guess?"
"I hope you never have to do your own seducing, my sweet. I have never seen one so hopeless." Though it was so poorly executed as to be enthralling. Perhaps there was a sort of backwards genius in it.
"It's not me. It's all the lyrium. The raw stuff down here. Been giddy for days now."
"Of course, the lyrium makes you bad at flirting."
Limping and scraping, they made their way back to Orzammar, and did not give the crown to anyone other than the princeling they'd already been planning to, despite several suggestions from their fearless leader (the grumpy one up front, a dozing grandmother, a nug). Despite Alim's eagerness to put the damn place behind them, they stayed one night after the coronation to just sleep. And take baths. Long baths were necessary all around, except perhaps for Oghren.
Everyone but their new companion was a bit giddy to be on the surface again. Lingering aches aside, even cold sunshine and a biting wind might as well have been a proper Antivan summer at the moment. With only one more piece of their army to gather and the haunting miseries of the Deep Roads left behind, everything seemed so much brighter.
In late afternoon they reached a little village and stopped for the kind of supplies that Orzammar didn't offer. Food that didn't taste of must and mushrooms, for one thing, and they'd been out of touch for a bit, so gossip was on the shopping list, too. The village was small, but a nexus for traders and hunters, and they had managed to catch the place on a market day. They could, it was determined, stop a little early, spend the night in the inn, have a moment to breathe and remember that there was a world without Broodmothers that was worth keeping that way.
Leliana and Alistair were perfectly happy to wander around, and Oghren found an ale tent quickly enough. Sten and Morrigan chose to register their bored disinterest by lingering on the outskirts of town. Wynne wound up deep in conversation with a local weaver, somehow. Zevran was not especially drawn to the comings and goings of a country market and almost decided to go drinking with the dwarf, but once again he found Alim (followed by the dog) catching his eye.
Perhaps he'd never been let to wander before. He didn't speak to anyone and seemed reluctant to ask even the most businesslike questions of the vendors, but his bright eyes drank everything in. He even refrained from glaring at people who stared to find an elf wandering in their midst, though in a ragtag crossroads like this, it seemed less common than in much of Fereldan. A master of following marks without being caught at it, Zevran was quite amused during the twenty minutes or so he spent shadowing Alim.
He was distracted briefly by a set of neatly stamped leather bracers in a tanner's wares, but he really didn't have money to spare for pretty frivolities, even if leather cuffs had all sorts of uses beyond archery. He considered suggesting them to Leliana (and then explaining this point to her), but before he spotted her, he saw Alim again, talking to a pair of children.
Zevran wouldn't have guessed the flighty, somewhat crabby mage would relate well to the small and irritating creatures, but the interview seemed to be going well. Well, the boy looked close to tears and the girl very serious, but it didn't appear to be the elf's fault. The girl held up a little bundle. Alim peeked inside and nodded, and as Zevran approached, cautiously, both of their expressions lightened.
"I don't think it's infected, but give me a moment to look," Alim was saying. He took the child's burden and whispered a few words, then passed it back. "There, it took, I can tell. She'll want more sleep than usual, but she should be fine. Be gentle when you clean the wound, give her a very light elfroot tea tonight, and don't let her tangle with any more weasels."
Both had scampered off by the time Zevran reached his side. "And that was?"
"A rabbit. With little spots. Her name is Shiverin' Jemmy." He looked very pleased with himself.
"I wouldn't have guessed you were such a hand with little ones. Is it because you're so short you can pass as one of their own?"
Alim swatted ineffectively at his arm, but apparently a short joke from another elf didn't sting much. "Almost all mages are at the tower by they time they're ten. Much later and they just call you an apostate. We get some who are barely talking. It's much easier to be fond of them than annoyed all the time."
"But you're so good at being annoyed all the time." A little ways off, the two children seemed to have found their mother, who looked back at Alim with a less than grateful expression. "Perhaps she was hoping it would be for the stewpot and she did not appreciate your simples?"
"No simples. Wynne's insisting I learn basic medicinal magics. I was practicing."
"You... used magic on a pet rabbit. In a provincial little nowhere town, far from the circle and with a hut for a Chantry... Are you still lyrium-drunk?"
Alim frowned, looking like he'd rather not think about it. "I'm already a foreign elf in a dress with a glowing stick strapped to my back."
"Yes, perhaps we should have thought of that earlier." Zevran glanced about them. Morrigan was more likely to attract attention than Alim, but she was hanging back and wouldn't be caught dead performing spells to cheer up local brats. Usually a Crow was the cause of distracting disasters, but that had taught him a bit about how to spot them coming. "Shall we casually steer you to where the dwarven merchants congregate? They seem to be less nervous of men in dresses with shiny sticks."
"Alright, for a few minutes."
Zevran tried to make it look natural, tugging him toward the stand with the bracers. No sudden movements and no glancing about for dark looks being cast their way. "When did you last see Alistair?"
"I'm not sure. He's pretty tall, though." Alim rocked to his tiptoes and peered around, reminding Zevran again of a cat. "That woman's still watching us," he reported.
"I would have guessed. But no Alistair?" A town this small was unlikely to have any templars attached to the chantry. That could help. Alistair wouldn't seem hopelessly confused and ineffective if you weren't used to the real ones.
"He was going to ask about and see if there'd been darkspawn sightings. Maybe he went inside somewhere. There's Leliana."
"Will not do for my purposes, but it is always cheerful to have a pretty face in view." Come to think, if she could talk like a sister, she might be some help, even if she was currently dressed like a scruffy mercenary. He steered Alim toward her, but before they'd gone many steps, Zevran could feel pursuit closing on them. Quiet, stalking pursuit. And his own instincts aside, the dog was beginning to rumble threateningly. He began to drag Alim toward the ale tent, hoping a crowd would dissuade interest in them, but the man had longer legs than they did and no need to look casual. And, shiny sticks being what they were, he had no trouble aiming for Alim. Excellent mage he might be, but he had the physical combat instincts of a hedgehog. A hand on his shoulder spun him around.
"You! Keep away from my children!" The man was very big, and he had friends with him. Alim already looked pale. "Where'd you crawl out from?"
"O-orzammar." Oh, no, Alim wasn't fearless. All of a sudden he quaked and cringed like the most deferential alienage elf. It was uniquely disturbing to watch. "We just walked into town this hour."
"And I'm sure you don't know anything about the Hales farmstead."
"No, nothing." His eyes were firmly planted on the ground and he wound his fingers in his dog's collar, holding the beast carefully back.
"Apostate!" That came from the growing crowd. The epithets that followed were less distinct, but they seemed to have something specific to accuse him of. Just their luck. And it sounded messy, too, probably darkspawn, but easy to blame on the mage. Two of the crowd were armed with hunting knives and a thrown rock struck Alim on the shoulder. In another moment the wardog was going to go for offending throats with his master so menaced.
"Time to run, little flower."
He didn't move, too busy cowering. "No, no, I'm a mage of the Circle, I only just arrived, please..."
"What's going on here?" Alistair strode up, Leliana a step behind, with a large Andrastean medal around her neck that she usually kept tucked away for private devotions. "Templar coming through."
"You're a templar?" Zevran was disappointed to see the locals weren't quite as oblivious as he'd hoped, appraising Alistair's battered, mismatched armor with an air of distaste. But there were no more rocks.
"I'm... dressed for fieldwork." Leliana must have quickly coached him, but he wasn't a natural. This had better be concluded quickly. "And I... I'm not pleased to be dragged away from consulting with the Revered Mother because you couldn't leave my poor mage be."
"What happened at the Hales weren't natural!"
"And investigating unnatural things doesn't seem to you to be a good reason to bring along a sanctioned mage? That's exactly what we have them for, you know." He nodded, looking impressed at his own logic. Most of the crowd was backing down, though that might have more to do with a large man carrying a sword and shield instead of repurposed skinning knives. "I hope you're not interfering with chantry investigations," he added, his tone edging more on schoolyard taunt than imposing threat.
Zevran didn't find it very intimidating, but all but the first man seemed to be losing interest in antagonizing the mage. That one was determined, though. "He used magic on my children."
"Um..."
Alistair looked lost, and Zevran had to step in. "He healed a pet rabbit."
"Oh. I see. Well, that is an... infraction... of the... enchanting fur bearing animals statute. There will be discipline." He nodded solemnly, and Leliana caught Alim's arm and led him resolutely away while Alistair stood in the man's way. Zevran thought it best to beat a retreat, too, taking a different path around the market stalls and joining them on the other side.
"Alistair did a good job, all things considered, but I think we'd still better cut our shopping shot." She frowned. "I'll find everyone. You wait with Alim on the road." Zevran vaguely noted that she was avoiding being alone with him, for all they seemed to be friends again. He walked quickly, ushering Alim along and finding a stand of scrubby trees to slip behind to wait for the others.
Alim looked downcast and small the whole way, and Zevran found himself unsettled. He'd wanted to believe in his innocently fearless Warden, found something particularly alluring in that, maybe something to admire independent of his flirtation. It stung in more ways than he liked to see Alim reduced to scraping and whinging like that. Perhaps everyone had a weak spot, but...
"Well, sorry about that, I guess I cheated everyone out of a night in a bed." He straightened and stretched, all the deference and fear suddenly vanished. "Should have thought that through. But at least Bryony and Marthas have their bunny." He leaned against a tree trunk and scritched the dog's ears.
Zevran frowned, lost. "What?"
"I like bunnies. Boring, but very soft." He smiled at Zevran. "Oh, you mean angry mob procedure? It's something they taught us all at the Circle, if you didn't walk in already knowing it. Defer, whine, agree to everything, don't use magic if you can possibly avoid it. Seem harmless. Makes me feel dirty, but there it is."
"That was an act?" For a moment the thought crossed his mind that the other elves he'd learned to despise for their resignation to human control might have been acting a part, too, but that was much less pleasant than deciding he'd never been more attracted. "What hidden depths you have, my sweet."
"I'm not going to take any theater circuits by storm. It's just self preservation. If I hurt any of them I'm not sure even being a Grey Warden would help with the templars. Maleficar means whatever they want it to mean. And it wouldn't help." He sighed heavily. "What a town. I hope none of those children are mages." He was bothered, for all his bravado. He just wasn't cowed.
"If you were not so busy calling up skeletons and blizzards to fight your battles, I would say you had excellent instincts for a career in assassination."
"I can tell that's a compliment, but I think I'm much better off fixing bunnies."
"You are the strangest person I have ever met. And that, too, is a compliment." On a whim, he caught Alim in a one-armed embrace. He was willing to just squeeze and let go, but Alim flushed faintly and hugged him back. It was enough of an invitation. He slid his other arm around Alim's waist and pulled him close. From a few inches away and in daylight, he had his first chance to notice a slight touch of freckles on Alim's nose and cheekbones, dark on darker skin. "Yes?"
"Yes." He nodded shallowly, nervous but smiling. Zevran made a mental note to participate in rescuing Alim from any more mobs that might come up. It was only a quick little kiss, soft and sweet and indulgent. It was, he told himself, a deliberate tease. He'd already had hopes he'd finally see Alim in his bedroll tonight, and had every intention of keeping the mage's mind on that, too. It was rather pleasant to kiss without the pressure of what was to come next, though. Soothing.
"Oh, Maker, at least wait until there's a tent handy."
"We've done it now. Alistair's virgin eyes," Zevran teased, letting Alim go.
Alim was still a bit redder than usual, but he was game. "Oh, dear, this wasn't news to you, was it, Alistair? There's this thing called kissing. Apparently all the rage."
"These newfangled ideas. Came in from Orlais, did it?" Alistair said gamely, though he still wasn't looking at them and bent to pet the dog.
"Are we tormenting Alistair? May I join in?" Morrigan swept rather dramatically into the clearing.
"If you like. I was considering explaining to him that girls and boys often have different parts," Alim said, chipper.
"Don't break Alistair. I need him to reach things on high shelves." Leliana.
"What are high shelves even for, anyway? I don't see any damn reason." Oghren.
Sten just grunted, and Wynne caught Alim's eye, arms crossed. He immediately went to her side as they all started back down the road. Zevran listened in a bit, just feeling nosy.
"I'm sorry."
"These things do happen, and it was more or less contained. Honestly, I'm not even very surprised. From what Alistair and I were able to learn, the farmstead must have been destroyed by darkspawn with magic."
"But I probably shouldn't have used magic around children without permission."
"Well, yes, don't do that again. We're lucky Alistair was there and can more or less sound like someone who knows what he's doing." She sighed deeply. "Have you had a chance to read the book I loaned you?"
"The one I gave you?"
"Well, I've finished it."