The group fell into an uneasy routine as they began the journey toward Haven. The three rogues usually walked in the lead, taking turns scouting ahead with the dog, Morrigan, who preferred walking in silence, served as a kind of buffer in the middle, and Sten and Alistair brought up the rear. The blow-up between her and Alistair had been weighing heavily on Eriana since they left Denerim, and she was slowly growing more irritable. She still cared for Alistair, but his words had left a deep hole in her heart. Only a handful of people had ever called her stupid, all of them human men, too. She tried to reassure herself that Alistair wasn't like the other men she had encountered, but right now, he was treating her just the same as they all had. It hut her more than she cared to admit, and it surprised and scared her just how much it hurt. Did she really care for Alistair that much that his words could hurt her so deeply, or was she simply feeling betrayed? She didn't really want to consider the fact that she may have such intense feelings for a human. It was far easier to let herself be distracted by her friends for the time being, and Leliana and Zevran were great for that. They usually kept the conversations light, Leliana often talking about Orlaisian fashion while Zevran entertained her with tales of his previous, successful, assassinations and his strange obsession with leather. It was easy to be friends with them, and it kept her mind off the person who used to walk beside her, entertaining her with stories of templars and wardens.

The evenings in camp followed much the same routine as well. Eriana would make it a point to speak with Morrigan each night, but she had all but given up on Sten and Alistair. She was sick of trying to force Sten to say more than a word or two to her, and until he acknowledged her, Alistair was a lost cause.

The party was camping in the foothills of the Frostback Mountains one evening, and Leliana was playing with the blond elf's hair, telling her stories about Orlesian hair trends.

"Now, wait a second. Women went out in public with live birds in their hair? On purpose?" Eriana said, laughing.

"Oh yes, for a time it was very fashionable. Then they realized what little birds do when they are frightened or startled. The trend ruined more than a few expensive dresses before it became passé," Leliana explained, twisting the elven woman's hair into an elegant twist at the base of her neck. "Eriana, my dear, you should let me do your hair more often."

"Right, because the darkspawn definitely care what I look like," Eriana said with a laugh. When Leliana started to pout, Eriana relented, "Okay, as long as you don't put anything alive in my hair, you can do it. Just nothing too crazy, okay?"

"Deal," Leliana squealed excitedly.

"Nothing too crazy, well that doesn't sound too fun," said a smooth, devious voice. The women both smiled as Zevran walked up, holding a few blankets. "I for one prefer things a bit crazy."

"We know, we've heard your stories. Anyway," Leliana said, getting up, "I'm on third watch tonight, so I probably need to get some sleep." She gave Eriana a quick peck on the cheek, and darted across camp.

Zevran handed Eriana one of the blankets, "It's a cold night to be on watch, perhaps I can provide more than a blanket to keep your warm, no?"

"Why don't you just keep me company, Zev; that should be enough," she said, patting the log beside her."

"Ah, so a cold night for me too then," he said, sitting beside the Warden. "I have a question, if I may."

"Of course, go ahead."

"I am very good at reading people, at observing them and surmising their behavior; it is why I excel at what I do. You however have mystified me on several occasions now."

Eriana raised an eyebrow at him, "Really?"

"Oh yes, and now that I am quite confident that you won't change your mind and kill me, my curiosity has gotten the better of me. Why didn't you kill me after I attacked you? I was quite certain that you were going to; that was your plan, no? To extract all useful knowledge from me then eliminate the threat."

Eriana nodded, sadly. "No offense, Zev, but it was very foolish of me to allow you to live. You were a liability that threatened me and my friends, and what we are doing is far too important to have allowed such a threat to remain." She glanced over at him, "I had already decided that you had to die, but when the time came, I just couldn't bring myself to do it."

"Well now I'm extremely curious; what was it that changed your mind?"

Eriana sighed, pulling Zevran's blaket tightly around her. "Something about the way you looked reminded me of my brother, and I just couldn't do it."

"Oh, so your brother is a devilishly handsome man, then?"

She chuckled lightly, "No, well, yes he was, but that wasn't it. You don't look a thing like Skylar, neither do I for that matter. He was too Fereldan, pale skin, dark hair." She sighed, "No, it was the way you were sitting, the way you looked up at me." Eriana stopped and tried to decide if she really wanted to talk about this; she had buried these feelings so long ago. "I haven't seen my brother in ten years, not since the day he left to get married. You see, in ailenages most marriages are arranged, often arranged with elves from other cities. If your parents are well off or save up enough, they can arrange a good match for you, but chances are you won't meet your betrothed till your wedding day. Well, my parents had arranged a marriage for my brother with a girl from the ailenage in Highever but couldn't afford to travel with him to the wedding, so they arranged for him to travel with some merchants who were going to Highever."

She sighed, "I remember the last time I saw him like it was yesterday. It was the morning he was to leave for Highever, and my parents sent me in to wake him up. Being an annoying little sister, I didn't do it gently. I jumped on his bed and poured water on his face shouting, 'wake up, Sky.'" She smiled sadly to herself, tears threatening to escape her eyes, "He pulled me down and tickled me before he rolled me onto the floor and kicked me out. Just before I left, I remember looking back at him, still lying in his bed, and he grinned up at me with the same sly look you had when we first met. That's why I couldn't kill you; when I looked down at you lying there, it was like looking back as Skylar all over."

"And you haven't seen him in ten years? Perhaps we should pay a visit to Highever then when we travel north."

Eriana shook her head, "My brother never made it to Highever. Three days after he left, a member of the traveling party returned to Denerim. Their caravan was attacked a day out of the city; the man who told us was the only survivor. Needless to say, the news devastated may parents; they blamed themselves, my father especially. When my mother heard the news, she grabbed me by the arm and took me into the alley behind the house; then she knelt in front of me and handed me two daggers. She looked me in the eyes and told me that I would know how to defend myself; she wasn't going to lose another child because she didn't train me to defend myself. I was seven years old."

"Your mother started training you to fight when you were seven?"

Eriana nodded, "She always regretted not training my brother; I guess she didn't think he had the aptitude for it, he could be rather clumsy. My mother taught me a lot of things over the years. I learned to pick locks and pockets, and she made sure I could read and write. I suppose that she didn't want me to have the life that she had, I don't know."

Zevran reached out and pulled her close to his side with one hand and brushed her hair out of her eyes with the other. She rested her head on his shoulder, fighting back tears, as they sat in silence for a while. "Wait a second," Zevran said, looking down at her, "you said this happened ten years ago, right?" Eriana nodded. "So does that mean you are only…"

"Seventeen, yes, no wait, what month is it? I may be eighteen now." She glanced up at him, "Why? Does that surprise you?"

"Frankly, yes. You have much wisdom and maturity for one so young."

"Maturity comes with a hard life. Most elves who live in the ailenage grow up quickly I'm afraid. Thank you for listening Zev. It's just hard to think about home sometimes; despite the difficulties we faced, there is so much I miss about it. I just never thought I'd leave it; I never imagined I'd be here."

"It seems you mother did; after all, she prepared you for a life outside the alienage, no?"

"I guess so, but honestly, what could prepare me for this?" she said, waving her hand around. "Building an army when I've only been in one battle ever; crossing Fereldan to collect allies when I'd never even left the city," she shrugged and snuggled closer to the assassin. "I've had to learn a lot on the fly; I just hope my mistakes aren't big enough to doom us all." Eriana looked up at Zevran, "For what it's worth, I'm glad I kept you alive, Zev. You've been a good friend, and it's been nice having another elf around. I've never been around this many humans in my life; nice as they are, it can be a bit unnerving."

"You know, any time you want to feel closer to home, my services are always available. I could give you a taste of what you've been missing," he said, raising an eyebrow, deviously at her.

"And then you make me regret it all over again."

"A friend, she called me a friend. After such a short time, she already considers me a friend; how could she be so naive?" Zevran thought to himself. True, he had not tried to kill her again, but she seemed too practical to take his oath at face value and drop her defenses so quickly. Perhaps the tension between her and Alistair was taking a greater toil on her than they realized; it seems to have broken her in a way, made her vulnerable, made her easy prey for the likes of him. In a way, Zevran almost felt sorry for her. It made sense, really. She had been shunned by the man she cared for, so she reached out for something familiar. Too bad for her, he wasn't one of her alienage elves; sure he would comfort her, tend to her needs, then he would finish the job he was contracted to do. Only one thing gave him pause. Eighteen, she was only eighteen, not much more than a child; even among the Crows she would have been little more than an apprentice. He tried quickly to banish the thoughts from his head; it would have only made his job more difficult. Best focus on the task at hand.

Zevran was pulled from his reverie as Eriana and Leliana returned from scouting the village of Haven. Eriana was explaining her plan for infiltrating the secluded village. "We can't go in there together, a group our size would be far too conspicuous. Morrigan, do you think you could fly around and keep an eye on things as a hawk or something? Leliana, you take Ramoth and follow us on the edges of the village, but stay hidden. If anything comes at us, you can attack from cover." Leliana nodded. "Alistair, Zev, Sten, and I will go in, pretending to be travelers, so carry your packs. The village seems quiet, but I just have a feeling that there is something very shady going on here."

Eriana was right, there was something very wrong in this village; the streets were eerily empty, missing the normal mid-morning bustle. The guard who met them at the gate was less than accommodating, telling them to do their business and then leave. Zevran could tell that Eriana was on edge about the whole situation, and her patience was wearing thin. Unfortunately, she wasn't the only one unhappy about the situation, and Sten made his objections very clear.

"An interesting strategy, tell me, do you intend to keep going north until it becomes south and attack the archdeamon from the rear?"

"Well, he'd never see it coming," Eriana barked back at him shortly, and Zevran realized immediately that it was a mistake.

"The archdeamon is our goal," Sten said sternly, "and instead of going after it, we are traipsing around in the opposite direction looking for the charred remnants of a dead woman. I will not simply follow in your shadow as you run from battle."

Eriana glanced over her shoulder at Sten, but kept walking, "Sorry you feel that way, but I'm in charge and there's nothing you can do about it."

"Not anymore; I'm taking command."

Eriana spun around and crossed her arms as she stared up at him, "I don't think so."

"Defend yourself Warden; we'll settle this," said Sten, drawing his long-sword.

Zevran watched in amazement as the petite elf went toe to toe with the giant Qunari warrior, her twin blades crashing with his two-handed sword. Sten's movements were slow, but powerful and precise. Eriana, on the other hand was quick and deftly avoided his blows, trying to maneuver behind the warrior. "Wear him out, and use his strength against him. Get him off balance then take him down. His armor is week just beneath the arm; a quick jab there would make his attacks less effective epically with your poisoned blade, so catch him when his arm is up," Zevran found himself silently coaching her, an unfamiliar feeling of concern growing in his chest. She was landing blows and avoiding the most violent of the Qunari's attacks, but she wasn't wearing him down fast enough. Suddenly, Sten seemed to catch the elven woman unaware and managed to land a hard blow to her left shoulder, but she managed to roll with the impact, using her momentum to knock Sten down hard on his side. She quickly righted herself and perched on the prostrate giant's back, her dagger on his throat, and Zevran felt himself breathe a sigh of relief.

"I was wrong, Warden; it seems you are strong enough," Sten conceded, "What now?"

"Just get back in line, Sten; we'll talk about this later. But if you pull anything like that again, don't think I won't hesitate to kill you," Eriana said, sternly. Then she handed him a vial, "You'll want to drink this, before the deathroot poison gets too deep into your system."

Zevran felt himself pulled toward her, desperately wanting to check her for cuts, bruises, any injuries the duel may have left on her, but he managed to stop himself before he moved more than a step. Was this true concern for her well-being that he was feeling? Surely not. He didn't have much time to process his thoughts any further; he was too distracted by a blur of silver that came hurdling past him, nearly careening into Eriana.

"Sweet Andraste, are you okay?" Alistair asked in a panicked voice, frantically searching her for injuries. "Oh, I thought he was going to take your arm off; I should have stopped him. I'm so sorry; I've been such a fool. I can't believe I almost lost you again; forgive me, please forgive me. I mean talk about a royal bastard…" He continued to babble over the bewildered looking elf as he spewed apologies. Talk about a sudden change of heart; Zevran imagined that seeing your woman nearly dismembered by a giant may just put things into perceptive. He watched as Eriana gently put a hand up to Alistair's mouth to quiet his senseless ramblings.

"Alistair, I'm okay, really. And I'm touched to see that you care," she said, much more sweetly than Zevran would have. The templar deserved to be blasted for the way he had treated her, but what did he care?

Alistair pulled her close to him with one hand and used the second to brush her hair back. "Could you ever forgive me, I've been such a fool? You are right, have been right about everything; I've just been too stubborn to admit it. Please say you forgive me."

Eriana smiled up at him, her face lighting up more than Zevran had ever seen; his stomach churned for a moment. "I do, but now isn't the time to talk about it. Why don't you see to Sten while Zevran and I checkout these houses, okay?"

Eriana locked eyes with the assassin and nodded toward one of the nearby homes; he followed her toward the house. Once they were inside, Eriana began removing the shoulder guard from the left side of her armor, revealing a deep gash following the curve of her shoulder. "Do you think you could sew this up, Zev?"

"Of course, but why ask me? Alistair and you are obviously back on speaking terms, why not ask him to do it?" he asked as he started cleaning her wound.

Eriana winced as he dabbed the deep wound with a poultice. "He's too emotional right now. If he saw this, he'd probably try to behead Sten."

"If this cut was much deeper, he may have just reason to; if you were any slower, you would have lost this arm. But, I must say, you perplex me once again, Warden. Why didn't you behead him yourself?"

Eriana sighed, "He's a good warrior, and this is probably how Qunari settle differences. Granted, if he tries it again, no mercy that time." She said, her shoulder twitching slightly as Zevran began to sew her skin together. "I guess I prefer keeping the people who try to kill me around. Keeps me on my toes."

Zevran was trying hard to concentrate on stitching up Eriana's injury, but he was finding it difficult being this close to her again, feeling her soft skin beneath his calloused fingers. She was vulnerable here, alone with him; he could easily kill her and sneak out while the others were distracted and scattered, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. She glanced back at her shoulder as he finished stitching her skin together and then smiled up at him. "That looks good, thanks, Zev." He swallowed hard and nodded, wrapping her arm in a bandage before helping her reattach her shoulder piece.

He allowed his hand to brush up and down the back of her arm, "You know, you need to be careful with that arm, no rough sword play or you may tear out the stitches," and he felt her shutter slightly under his hand.

He started to pull away, he heard her gasp and step back into him, grabbing his hand. "What is that?" she asked, pointing across the room. Directly in front of them was an alter surrounded by candles, dripping with blood. "Surely that's not human blood."

"I believe it is. I have heard of cults who perform human sacrifices, but have never been unfortunate enough to encounter them myself," he said, tightening his hold on her arm. She glanced up at him and he felt her shiver in under his hand.

"Come, on," she said taking his hand, "the sooner we get out of this town, the better."