I know I didn't update this story for ages, but I didn't abandon it. I was a bit stuck because I don't want to reveal spoilers about Failed to Fail, but as this is its sequel, it's more difficult than I expected. I finally found some balance, so I will start updating this more regularly.

This chapter was originally a story for Bloodsong's challenge at BSN: Interrogation. But as I know I won't resist to continue in this plotline, I decided to include it into Meet Cute. So now the intention is to have one chapter from Zev's POV after every five usual chapters of Meet Cuter from Anders' POV.

Thanks to my wonderful beta Seika for her help and encouragement to include this in MC. :D

INTERLUDE I

Birds of a Feather

Zevran slowly opened his eyes; when he saw what was in front of him, he quickly shut them tight again. Brasca! Of all possible Crows Xavier could have sent after him, he had to send this sadistic cretin? Not good. At all. And what was worse, the ground was rocking and that could mean only two things: either the hit in the head was much harder than he expected, or he was on a boat. For the first time in his life, he hoped it was the former one. He tried to move a little; he was tied, just as he expected. It seemed this time he wouldn't get out so easily.

He opened his eyes again and flashed his sexiest smile at his captor, who was a living proof that there were both ugly elves and dumb Crows.

"Ah, Emilio! What a pleasant surprise! Waking up in a cesspit couldn't please me more."

"Shut up, whore."

"Still eloquent as always, I see." He tried to look around, but he was tied too tight. "Mmmm so many ropes. I like that. But it would be better without the chair. It's... in the way."

"I said shut up! I'd rather die than touch you. Don't want to get something nasty."

Sweet Andraste, thank you for this mercy. I promise I'll never use your ass and other body parts as swear words again.

"Are you sure? Tsk, tsk. There goes another legend. I was told you already had every single illness and that it's a reason of–"

He was interrupted by a slap on the back of the head. "My master doesn't have to compensate for his incompetence as an assassin by whoring himself," someone hissed in an angry voice. "Now shut the fuck up and talk only when my master orders you, whore."

"Well said, Rico, well said. But don't think I won't punish you for that blunder earlier. We almost failed our mission because of you."

"Of course, master," said that young voice again, this time in most repentant tone. "I know that my behaviour in the stable was unforgivable. I'm ashamed of myself, truly, and I deserve any punishment you will give me."

Ah. It had to be Emilio's apprentice. As master, as apprentice, it seemed, both violent and dumb. That mistake in the stable–a ten year old would have done better. No wonder he was trying hard to get into Emilio's good grace again.

"Now then, Arainai. I will ask you a few questions. If you cooperate, your life will end sooner and in a less painful way. If you don't cooperate, Master Xavier will be most displeased. That's the message from him."

"Most displeased? How horrible. I'm so trembling with fear. Of course I will cooperate, I promise. Ask away, I'll tell you all my secrets."

"I don't care about your secrets. I want to know about the Warden."

"What about him?"

"Everything you know."

Zevran grinned. The rest of his life might be short, miserable and painful, but the next few moments should be fun.

"Everything I know? Hm... Let me see... Well, his name is Alistair Theirin, and he's the bastard son of the late–"

"The other Warden."

"The other one? Oh, you mean Faren Brosca, yes? He's a dwarf from Orzammar–"

"You know who I mean!"

Zevran blinked. "No. Who?"

"My master means the Warden Commander, the one who ended the Blight," said the apprentice, with the slightest hint of exasperation in his voice. Oh. So he was brighter than Emilio after all.

"Ah, he should have said that immediately! There are many Wardens in the world, after all." Zevran flashed another smile at Emilio. "The Warden Commander. Everything I know, was it? Hm… Well, his name is Airam Surana. Sex: male. Race: elf. Occupation: the Commander of Grey Wardens in Ferelden–"

"Are you making fun of me, Zevran? You said you would cooperate!"

He chuckled softly. The look at Emilio's face was priceless. "And I do as I promised! Am I not answering your question?"

"I already know he's a male elf!"

"You do? I'm impressed."

"Don't provoke me, Zevran. There are other ways to make you talk."

"But I am talking! Should I be more loud? More wordy? Anything you desire, oh my unsexy captor."

"I desire you to tell me things about the Warden Commander that are not known to everyone! You spent more than a year with him. Are you totally incompetent?"

"Things that are not known to everyone?" Zevran knitted his eyebrows. "Let me see... oh, this is difficult... we were living in a camp, most of the time, you know, not much privacy there... I admit, I have no idea what you may want to know. I must be truly incompetent, just as you said," he admitted with a sigh.

"Tell us what he does during the day, his routine, and what he likes and dislikes, anything relevant," ordered the apprentice. Interesting; it seemed in Emilio's case, the apprentice was the brighter and more experienced one. And Zevran didn't miss the 'us', in the command. He had a feeling that in different circumstances, he would probably like him.

"Aha! Now we're talking. The routine... there's isn't any, I'm afraid. We all had rounds in patrolling the camp, so we were all awake when necessary and slept when we could. In the morning, we would have a breakfast that was sometimes delicious, if Wynne or Leliana was cooking, and sometimes horrible, if it was Alistair's or Sten's turn. Sten was even worse than Alistair, because the Qun doesn't allow you to learn new things – if you're a warrior, you're a warrior, not a cook. And when it was delicious, it took longer, but when it was horrible, we wanted to finish it quickly. That is natural, no?"

Zevran looked up at Emilio with an innocent smile. "Then we would march, and I must say Alistair should really do something about the state of the roads, now that he's the King. It was awful! Half of the time I was covered in mud. The other half I was covered in darkspawn blood... ugh... because there were always at least two fights with the darkspawn before the lunch break-"

This time it was Emilio who hit him. It had been too long since someone hit him properly – the Airam's little punch didn't count – and the pain was much worse than he remembered.

"The Warden, Zevran. How did he fight? What was his fighting style?"

"Marvelous! Ah, truly, it was pleasure to watch. When we were in Redcliffe, fighting against the walking corpses, he and Wynne and Morrigan cast that spell... what did they call it... stormy night, I think, or something like that. It was a long time ago, I don't remember exactly, I'm afraid. But, that's not important, no? What I was going to say, was about the Warden. You know, he was standing there, against the dark sky, doing those things with his hands–I could show you, if you'd untie me... no? A pity. It was really gorgeous, and for a moment I forgot to fight completely, I just stood there gawping at him, until one of the walking dead almost cracked my skull..."

He was certain Emilio would hit him again, and he probably would have, if the apprentice hadn't laughed. "Are you sure it didn't?" he asked, in a rather amused tone. "Please forgive my boldness, master, but I thought he'd be much more impressive. Especially as Master Xavier assigned you to this mission. Why waste the best Crow in Antiva on someone like him?"

There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but Emilio was too dumb to notice it. Oh, this was priceless. What was Xavier thinking, wasting an apprentice like this on someone like Emilio?

"I've been wondering the same thing," Emilio muttered, in a much better mood. "All right, Zevran. This is your last chance to tell me something... something... relevant. Important stuff. Not your memories. If you don't, I'll... I'll send Vito and Giulio to persuade you. I'm sure you remember my two partners?"

Yes, Zevran remembered them; in fact, he was wondering why they were not here right now. Not that he wanted to see them. They were almost as bad as Emilio.

"You win," he sighed. "I'll tell you everything, and I'm risking much by doing so. I wasn't quiet because of some feelings... I'm a Crow, after all. I was quiet because the Warden would do anything–and I know what he's capable of, you can't imagine horrors that I've seen–I repeat, he would do anything to keep this secret..."

He dropped his voice to anxious whisper, and Emilio leaned closer to him. Even the clever apprentice was quiet, for once.

"You heard that he has white skin and purple hair, yes? It's a fraud. Make up and a clever spell. White, because it implies... purity. Yes? And purple, because purple is powerful, mysterious, makes him look badass..."

Emilio stared at him, speechless. The apprentice moaned softly.

"Or perhaps I should say, it makes her look badass."

Emilio winced. "You mean the Warden is..."

"A woman. Yes." Zevran nodded, and then, struck by sudden inspiration, added, "A human. Woman."

That was finally too much for Emilio. He blinked few times; Zevran could almost see the rusty cogs in his head, turning only with the great effort, and vee-ee-ery slo-oo-owly. The moment when they clicked together was quite obvious: Emilio's face turned the deepest shade of red that reminded Zevran of Alistair, his eyes widened, then narrowed, and his lips pressed together.

"You're having me on," he growled.

Zevran pouted. "Such distrust. I would never do such a thing."

He already had several other jokes ready, but before he could say another word, Emilio hit him and the world turned black.

oOo

He woke up at the sensation of something trickling down his nose. Probably blood, judging by how much his body hurt. He opened his eyes, trying to distance himself from the pain and focus on his surroundings instead.

"Are you're finally awake?" asked a big blur with a vaguely familiar voice that was standing in front of him.

Luckily, whoever it was, didn't want the answer, pressing something–a flask?–to his lips instead.

"Here, drink this. Don't worry, it's just a healing potion."

A faint voice in his brain protested that it was not a good idea, that it could be a poison, but he was too sore to care. Poison or not, if they wanted him to drink it he didn't have a real chance to disobey. He obediently opened his lips… and was surprised to find that it was a healing potion. As the familiar warm sensation spread through his body, the blur changed into more distinct shape. And a rather eye-catching one.

It had to be the apprentice from earlier. A young elf, no more than sixteen, tall and lean and with perfectly shaped head, like a masterpiece of one of the famous Antivan sculptors. His dark skin and hair contrasted nicely with the vivid blue of his eyes – which were now staring at Zevran with clear contempt.

"Why am I even wasting my time with you?" the boy asked accusingly, pursing his lips. "You're clearly no better than that cretin Emilio."

"Such cruel insults. That hurts more than a broken rib, you know. But I admit I am curious. Why are you wasting your time with me? I can't imagine Emilio ordered you to heal me."

"Well, isn't that obvious? I'm healing you because I need you healthy. You're not of any use to me in the shape Emilio left you after your idiotic, wannabe funny answers during interrogation."

"And why do you need me in a good shape? If you don't mind me asking."

"Because I have a… a business proposal." The boy hesitated. "Or I thought I had. I'm not so sure now. I heard a lot about you and your skills, but now… I can't decide if you really are so dumb or if you're pretending it."

A business proposal? Intriguing. And, he noticed, the boy was not worried that someone might walk in on them. An apprentice healing the prisoner against his master's orders–that would mean death.

"What business are we talking about?"

The apprentice folded his arms. "First tell me why you didn't run away, in those stables. I risked my neck there to give you a warning, yet you pretended not to notice. What in the Void were you thinking?"

It didn't make any sense. After a brief hesitation, Zevran decided that an honest answer would bring him further this time.

"Because Emilio is a stupid brute. He wouldn't hesitate to set the whole village on fire, or take a hostage, to get to me. And he wasn't this skilled, when I last met him. I wouldn't expect such a clever trap from him…"

The boy snorted. "It wasn't a clever trap. If that arrow wasn't coated in Toni's poison, maybe you would have defeated us."

"Toni?"

"You'll meet him later… if we make an agreement."

"So what is it you want from me?"

"Freedom."

Air would love that reply. He arched his brow. "I am your prisoner, at your mercy. Shouldn't it be the other way round?"

"Stop playing stupid. It's getting old," the boy snapped. "I want to get out of the Crows. But I'm not a fool to think I have a chance to survive alone. I'm still just an apprentice. They'd catch me within one month. You're the only one who managed to stay alive and free for more than a year. With you, I'd have a bigger chance to survive."

Zevran studied the boy for a while. Proud, but calm and calculating; he would have a nice career in front of him, as a Crow. Maybe it was a trap... though it would be the strangest and most complicated trap he had ever seen.

"And you'd trust me?" he asked. "What if I betray you later, or kill you?"

The boy shrugged. "Then I will be dead. I'm not afraid of death."

"Then what are you afraid of?"

"Of a cage," said the boy softly.

"Good answer." Zevran's grin widened. "Last three questions, before we make a deal. What's your name and how old are you?"

"Enrico Gallo and I'm sixteen, though I don't see how that matters. And the last one?"

"How in the Void did you end up as an apprentice to that thug?"

For the first time there was a sincere smile on the boy's face. "I've been asking myself the same thing for almost a year now."

oOo

Enrico untied him and gave him one more potion; when he was sure on his feet again, he took him into another cabin; judging by how comfortable it was, Zevran was sure it was Emilio's cabin. Yet the boy didn't seem worried at all. Impressive... and bit scary.

"What have you done to Emilio and others?" he asked, while Enrico prepared a soap and a towel for strip washing, and clean clothes.

"Nothing. They're having dinner now," said the boy, chuckling at Zevran's shocked face. "You don't need to worry. It will be their last one."

"Ah. I assume this 'Toni' you mentioned before poisoned them, yes?"

"Probably," said Enrico. "I prefer not to know. Toni is... bit different."

"Different?"

"You'll see."

oOo

And he did. When he was properly dressed again and his face finally showed some resemblance to its previous state, Enrico went to 'check the situation'. After a few moments, he returned with a little wiry elf, with half face covered in elaborate scarification and piercing grey eyes. Zevran guessed they were of approximately same age.

"You must be the Toni that Enrico mentioned," he said, flashing his trademark grin on the elf. "A pleasure to meet you. I heard you dealt with the other three all alone. Very impressive. A poison, yes?"

"You talk too much." the elf replied in a dry tone that immediately reminded Zevran of a certain Qunari. "I'm Antonio Salvatici. I agreed to help because I want to become a Grey Warden."

Zevran laughed, but Toni didn't join. "You're serious? But... that's... may I ask why?"

For a moment he was sure Toni would say 'No,' just like Sten. But then he replied, although it was clear he was annoyed. "Because I need to examine tainted blood for my ultimate poison. The Wardens won't let me, because I'm not one of them."

"I'm not one of them, either," Zevran said, determined not to let this crazy creature anywhere near Airam. "Sadly, I cannot help you."

"I want to use my blood, Arainai. I am no threat to the Wardens," said Toni frankly. "All I need from you is to take me to the Warden Commander and talk to him."

"Ah, but there is another problem. I will not go directly back now. I will go to Antiva and convince my former comrades that it is not advisable to hunt me or the Warden. Especially my dearest Master. But it can take quite some time. You should try to find another Warden, yes?"

It wasn't a lie. Desperate as it was, it was the only thing he could do. If he returned, more Crows would come soon... he couldn't risk that they would hurt Airam. And if it scared off this weird guy, it would be an added bonus.

But Toni simply nodded. "I assumed you would want to do it. I'll help. It will be over sooner."

"Awesome!" Enrico's eyes gleamed with excitement. "We will make you the new Guildmaster. And I'll be your secretary general, youngest in the history of Crows."

"I thought you didn't want to be a Crow."

"No, but this is different."

Zevran wasn't sure if he was amused, angry, desperate – or dreaming. Perhaps this was all just a bad dream... But deep inside, he knew no dream could be this ridiculous. He sighed.

"Well then, signor Segretario Generale. You may start by bringing me the strongest brandy you can find on this damned ship."

Enrico smiled, but before he could move or say anything, Toni sighed and took out a hipflask from his pouch. "Here, Arainai. I doubt there is anything stronger than this, on this ship or elsewhere."

Zevran cautiously sniffed at the bottle. His eyes watered, partly from the strong our, partly from the memories it brought.

Dragon Piss.