It took a lot for someone to genuinely surprise Zevran. As an assassin, he was well practiced at observing and reading people, but Eriana Tabris continued to surprise him. At their first meeting, he had incorrectly assessed her fighting prowess, assuming that since she was small and lithe that she would be easy to take in hand to hand combat. He quickly realized that he had vastly underestimated her there. When he learned that she was raised in the Denerim ailenage, he had assumed that she would be rather uneducated and poorly versed in politics. It wasn't long before she proved him wrong.

The day they entered Denerim was especially eye-opening for him. Much to his surprise, she chose to enter the city accompanied by only Morrigan, the dog, and him. After she told the group her plan, Leliana pulled her aside almost immediately.

"Are you sure you don't want to take Alistair or Sten? I don't mean to doubt you, but do you trust Zevran that much already?"

Eriana smiled, "Of course not, but I have my reasons, Lil. You're just going to have to trust me. I can't go in with a big, diverse group; it'll draw way too much attention. An armed elf like me will likely draw attention as it is. That and if I have to be near Alistair for another moment, I think may just lose it."

And with that, the small party headed toward the city. As it turns out, Eriana was right; their arrival in the market almost immediately drew the notice of a young guard who made a beeline toward the group.

"Hey, elf," barked the guard, derisively, "care to explain why you come into the market armed. Don't you know, elves who carry swords die on them?"

Eriana glanced over at Zevran looking aloof annoyed, and then, much to his surprise, Eriana began talking to him, perfectly mimicking his Antivan accent, "You see, dear friend, this is why I find this country so exasperating at times. I swear, if business didn't lead me here, I would never even bother crossing the border."

Zevran smiled, realizing instantly what she was doing. Very cleaver, he thought to himself. Her tan skin made her look slightly Antivan, and coupled with the accent, the guard would only assume that he was dealing with a pair of Crows. Cleaver indeed. "Indeed, perhaps we can be about our business quickly then, no?"

The guard shifted where he stood, now visibly uncomfortable. "You know the only good thing that has come from this wasteland is my dear Ramon here," she continued, stroking the mabari lightly on the head, "It is simply a shame that every time I bathe him, the smell brings me right back here," she said chuckling lightly. "You know that they like to corral their elves in this country, no? So uncivilized. Perhaps they assume we can be as easily detained."

The guard cleared his throat, obviously trying to reassert his authority and mask his nerves. "Excuse me."

Eriana looked back at the guard, annoyed, "Oh yes, right, you," she waited for him to continue. "Well, is there anything in particular you needed?" The guard started to stutter a bit, and Eriana surprised Zevran again. She glanced at Zevran, then said, in perfect Antivan, "Take out one of your daggers and just casually mess with them a bit." Her intent was clear, intimidate without overtly threatening, so Zevran simply pulled out a short dagger, casually examining it, feigning boredom.

"I, um, I just wanted to, well, make sure there was no trouble here."

Eriana discreetly pinched Ramoth's neck, causing the dog to emit a low growl, "Trouble, of course," she said, her eyes fixed intently on the guard, "well, I suppose that is entirely up to you, is it not? It seems to me that I was merely walking into the market when you approached me and began making threats, suggesting that I" and she emphasized the word as if it amused her, "I would die on my own sword. It seems to me that if you truly wanted to avoid trouble, then the wise thing to do would be to avoid me, no? Good, then I assure you, we will have no trouble." With that, she crossed her arms, glaring up at the guard.

"Of course, right, so sorry to disturb you," he managed to stutter, and he tried to maintain his dignity. He at least waited till he was almost out of sight before he began running.

Eriana grinned at her companions, "You know, I've always wanted to do that," speaking with her normal accent now. "I always hated those arrogant jerks who got stationed here. That will only work against the young, new guys, though. I'm afraid it won't fool the leader of the market guards, he knows me too well." Eriana glanced around the market. They had work to do, and it wouldn't be wise for them to split up now that they had garnered attention so quickly. So together, the party moved from vender to vender, and Eriana remarked that she was surprised by how many new faces tended the familiar stalls in the market. It seemed that most of the venders she remembered had moved into proper stores or left Denerim all together. That was good for them, thought Zevran; the fewer people who remembered her, the better.

As Morrigan was purchasing supplies for her potions and concoctions, Zevran looked over at the blond elf, "I have to say, that was quite surprising, my dear. Where ever did you learn to speak such perfect Antivan?"

"My mother taught me. She realized that there was a good chance that I may end up working in the market or with traders at some point, so it would be good for me to learn a second language. After she died, the bartender at the tavern continued giving me lessons."

"You got Antivan lessons from a bartender?"

"Yeah, well, I worked for him, and he was fluent. He would make me give him drink orders in Antivan, and then he would work with me as we were cleaning up."

"Was you mother from Antiva?" Zevran asked.

Eriana shrugged, "I'm not sure. I don't think she was Ferelden, but I never really thought to ask her, and Ada doesn't like to talk about her that much."

"Well, it was time well spent; the language rolls off your tongue like poetry. It has me very curious, however, as to what other hidden talents your tongue may possess; perhaps I could find out, no?"

"Ah, but alas, it would take far too long for me to demonstrate just what I can do, and our time is quite limited as it is. I suppose it's best left up to the imagination," Eriana said with a sly grin.

"I would consider it time well spent."

"And the rest of us will simply wait as we gouge out our mind's eye," Morrigan added dryly, as she walked up behind them.

Eriana laughed, shaking her head, as Morrigan joined them. "Come on, we need to get going." Zevran, grinning wickedly, fell in step beside her.

Alistair hated being left back at camp. He was furious with Eriana for going into the city and leaving him behind. Well, he was furious with her about a lot of things. How could this all have gone so wrong? That day before the battle in Redcliff seemed like a lifetime ago, but he could still remember the way her lips tasted on his, the she felt in his arms, and the way his heart hammered in his chest when she looked up at him. Then it all fell apart. Now, for the first time since she woke up in Flemeth's hut, she had left him, and with the assassin of all people. All he could do now was to wait for her to return.

"Alistair, this has to stop!"

Alistair's head jerked up to see Leliana standing infront of him, her hands on her hips, glaring at him. "I dunno what you're talking about."

"This, you, brooding. It has to stop. Do you want to drive her away, because if you do, you're doing a fantastic job of it." Leliana knelt down in front of him. "Look, Alistair, I know you are upset about Connor, but what's done is done, and we have to move on. She did what she believed to be right."

"Killing a child?" Alistair's voice started to rise.

"I'm not here to argue about that; I'm here to talk about Eriana. You need to talk to her. This brooding and ignoring her just isn't healthy. It's making you both completely miserable, and you can't afford to be miserable. She won't talk about it, and Maker forbid she show it, but this mess between you two is hurting her. Can't you see it? She's trying to be strong and trying to pretend that she isn't upset, but the tension between you is tearing her apart. I know that you care for her, and it's painfully obvious that this is hurting you too. Talk to her. Fix this and soon; because if you wait much longer, I'm afraid there may not be a relationship to save," Leliana finished sympathetically.

"What do you mean?"

"Simply this, you are not the only man in this camp who has his eye on our beautiful leader, and the Antivan, crude as he may seem, has his charms," she paused for a moment before walking away. "Talk to her."

"Braxton," Eriana said, smiling as she walked up to the bar. The barkeep's eyes lit up when he recognized the elf and he quickly came around the bar, lifting the blond woman into his arms.

"Ana Tabris, Maker bless me, I thought you were dead. When we heard what happened to the Wardens at Ostagar, we all assumed the worst."

"It was a close thing, but two of us made it out. How is my family, Braxton?"

Braxton shook his head, "I'm afraid I don't know. The ailenage has been shut up since you left. I'm sure you've noticed." Eriana nodded. "Speaking of which, what are you doing here? Don't you think coming back to Denerim is doubly dangerous for you?"

"I'll be gone before nightfall, I promise; I'm looking for Ferdinand Genitivi. Has he been in lately?"

"No, he still lives across the street, but I've not seen him in months. He left Weylon, his servant, behind though, so you may want to check with him."

They gave their quick goodbyes after Eraiana promised profusely that she would be careful, and the bartender promised to try to get contact her family. Zevran watched the entire exchange with great interest; it was like looking into Eriana's past for the briefest of moments. Her entire countenance seemed to change, to relax for a bit, and for a moment, she seemed younger, almost child-like. But the moment they left the tavern, the old Eriana returned, and it was back to business.

It was late afternoon before the party was ready to leave Denerim. The trip into Denerim had been surprisingly enjoyable for Zevran, and not just because they got to kill that fake assistant of Genitivi's, though that was fun. He was not ashamed to admit to himself that he enjoyed watching Eriana and not just because she was undeniably beautiful. The cocky swagger she had when she was dealing with that foolish guard was incredibly enticing, and he was intrigued by her even more as he learned about her past as well. Seeing her away from camp and away from that fool templar showed him a new side to her, a fun and light-hearted side. Of course, he still planned on killing her, eventually, but now, the prospect of bedding her first was almost too tempting to pass up. He glanced over at her as they walked, and she seemed rejuvenated in a way, he almost hated that they were headed back to camp.

"So, Warden, I had a question, something your bartender friend said confused me. Surprising, I know," Zevran said with a laugh. "He said it was doubly dangerous for you to be in Denerim."

"Well, you obviously know that as a Grey Warden, Denerim probably wasn't the safest place for me, but you see, I didn't exactly leave the city under the best of conditions." Eriana sighed, "I was conscripted into the Wardens. Duncan happened to be in the ailenage when I was being arrested and he conscripted me, probably saved my life."

"Arrested? Now I am intrigued, not that you were arrested but that you didn't evade capture. You seem too cleaver to be caught so easily, no?"

"There was no real escaping from what I'd done. I killed the son of the Arl of Denerim in his home. I also killed most of his personal guard; well, my cousin and I did."

It took everything in him to keep his jaw from dropping; killing nobility didn't seem her style. "I must confess, I did not see that one coming. Tell me, my dear, what drove you to such an act? You don't seem the noble-murdering type."

"What can I say," she said quite frankly, "some people need killing."

"A very enlightened way of looking at things; there aren't many who share that way of thinking though. So you killed Rendon Howe's son?"

"Rendon Howe, the Arl of Amaranthine? No, I killed Vaughan Urien. Is Arl Urien no longer in charge of Denerim?"

"No, from what I've heard, Howe had the former arl killed; I just hadn't realized it happened that recently, he seemed quite comfortable with the Regent."

"So Urien is dead? Serves him right," Eriana said bitterly. "The man was a snake. I remember him from the tavern; he always treated me like dirt just because I was an elf. He also took great pains to make sure the ailenage was kept in poverty and we elves, powerless. That being said, Howe isn't that much better. The elves from Amaranthine always complained about him, and from what I've heard from the other nobles, he's a snake, too. How do you know Howe anyway?"

Zevran chuckled softly, "He hired me to kill you, of course. He has a history of dealing with the Crows, a repeat customer, you may say. So you were not familiar with Howe himself then?"

"I met him a few times in the tavern; he only came into Denerim during a Landsmeet though, so I can't say I was familiar with him personally, just by reputation. Working in the tavern gave me an interesting perspective into politics. Sometimes I think more deals and policies were made in those booths than in the Landsmeet chambers. I can't say that I'm surprised he used the Blight and the confusion with Cailan's death to his advantage; he always seemed the opportunistic type."

"Lessons in Antivan and politics, this sounds more like a schoolhouse than a tavern. Tell me, did you learn any other lessons during your time as a barmaid?" Zevran asked as the camp came into sight.

"Yeah, don't drink anything labeled Orzammar unless you are a dwarf. If the smell doesn't knock you out, the sheer amount of alcohol in it will," she said, as they both laughed.

"Well, aren't you a wealth of knowledge, my dear little Warden," Zevran crooned in her ear.

"Eriana, Zevran, just call me Eriana."

"Ah, so I've earned the right to use your name, then."

"Well, anything is better than my little Warden," she grinned over at him, shoving him lightly with her forearm.

"Now that I'm allowed to say it, perhaps I can whisper it into your ear," he said, devilishly.

"Whisper?" Eriana sounded insulted, "No Zevran, I would hope you'd be screaming it, or gasping it, at least," she said as they walked into camp laughing.

Alistair played over the conversation in his mind. He would tell her that he had forgiven her for what she did in Redcliff and apologize for being so difficult. She would break down, crying in his arms, and apologize for everything; they would kiss and everything would be fine. Then she would say that keeping that dang assassin around was a mistake, and they would go off and kill him together. It would be perfect; they would be happy again, but his dream of a perfect reconciliation was shattered when the two elves strolled into camp, joking and laughing together. Eriana was almost glowing as she smiled over at that stupid, smug-looking Antivan, and pangs of jealousy ripped through Alistair's chest. He should be the one laughing and smiling with her he thought, forgetting for a moment the fact that his own behavior was the only thing keeping him from her side. Why is he laughing, and why is she touching him? Something snapped in Alistair's mind, and for the first time, his Templar discipline faltered as he strode angrily across camp to the returning party.

"We brought dinner," Eriana said cheerfully, "and it's not Fereldan rabbit stew."

Alistair grabbed her arm, sharply and pulled her toward him; ignoring her sharp, surprised cry of pain. "We need to talk," he said as he yanked her to the edge of camp. "Have you lost your mind or are you always this stupid?" She jerked back as if he slapped her, clearly hurt by his words, but he didn't care at the moment, he was just too angry. "I mean, not only did you keep the assassin alive, but you traipse off alone with him. Do you have a death wish, or something?"

"Okay, first off, I wasn't alone. Don't they teach you to count in the Chantry? I had Morrigan and Ramoth with me; that's three against one, one elf that I bested once already on my own. And don't stand there and pretend that this is about Zev because we both know it isn't."

Alistair flinched slightly when he heard her use the elf's nickname, "Are you so sure about that?"

"Yes, you've been more irritable than a hungry mabari since we left Redcliff. At least man up and admit you're still mad about Connor," she snapped at him.

"Okay, yes, I am," Alistair shouted at her. "We should have tried to save him, but you did the easy thing."

"The easy thing! The easy thing!" Eriana was now shouting too, "You think killing that boy was easy. Alistair don't you know me at all? That was the single hardest thing I've done in my entire life, but I had to do it. I had to make that call. But since you're the one with all the answers, tell me, Alistair, just what should I have done? You've had more than a week to think about it, what would you have done?"

"I don't know; I would have done something else, though," he retorted, angrily. "But he was just a boy; he didn't deserve to die. It was Isolde's fault."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing. Maker help me, are you a templar or aren't you. Are you telling me you would condone blood magic? Blood magic?" She was aghast. "So you would sacrifice the mother, risk our only mage in the Fade on the possibility that the blood ritual might work. If the ritual didn't work, we would have lost Isolde, Morrigan, and we would have still had to kill the boy."

Alistair threw up his hands, "Fine, but what about the Circle? They could have helped us."

"Eight days, Alistair. It would have taken us eight days at least to get to the Circle Tower and back, and while we were running off for help, we would have left that demon behind to terrorize Redcliff. Now, we're risking the lives of everyone still alive in the castle and the village. Do you think I want that kind of blood on my hands, that guilt hanging over me? Alistair, this was the only way to avoid more death, surely you can see that! Even if you can't see reason, tell me this. What do you call a mage possessed by a demon, Templar?" She said, spitting out the last word.

"An abomination," Alistair said quietly, "But.."

"No buts, it's an abomination. Now you told me about the Harrowing you witnessed. What happened to the mage who woke up possessed?" When Alistair said nothing, she continued, "The templars killed her. So could you please explain to me how this is any different? Huh? It's not; the only difference is that you are personally involved. You let your own feelings rule dictate your actions when you should have been thinking about the greater good."

Alistair looked down at his feet; he knew she was right. He had let his feelings for Eamon cloud his better judgment then berated Eriana for doing what was necessary. He started to speak when she cut him off.

She was still visibly angry, but at least she wasn't shouting anymore, "Look, you put me in charge because you didn't want to make the hard decisions. I get it, and I don't mind. What I do mind is you incessant need to question every single decision that I make." She poked him in the breastplate emphasizing the last few words. "If you wanted to make the hard calls, then you should have taken over in Lothering, but you didn't, so you lose the right to second guess and criticize everything I do. Ask me about stuff, advise me, but don't yell at me and pout if things don't go your way. This job is too hard without having to defend myself to you every time I make a decision, and it's not fair. If you're unhappy, you only have yourself to blame." And with that, she turned on her heel, and headed back into camp. "Someone wake me up for third watch; I need to get some sleep," she said ducking into her tent as Alistair followed her, into camp.

Leliana shook her head at him. "That's not exactly what I meant when I told you to talk to her," she said before ducking after Eriana into her tent.

On the outskirts of camp, Zevran sat in the shadows, silently observing the arguing Wardens. This job may be easier than he thought; if the two of them keep it up, they may very-well kill each other before Zevran had to do anything.