Zevran should have been happy to get to Orzammar. Since arriving in Fereldan, he had struggled to adjust to the cold, harsh climate of the barbaric nation, but nothing prepared him for the trek through the frozen forests of the Frostback Mountains. Even the new Antivan leather boots on his feet, failed to keep him warm. The morning after they shared watch, Eriana had surprised him with the beautiful pair of boots. Apparently, she had found the boots while they were in Haven, but didn't realize that they were Antivan till Leliana pointed it out. Eriana said that she had intended on giving them to him the previous evening, but according to her, she had been a bit distracted. They then spent the next five days trudging uphill through the snow on their way to the dwarven city, and needless to say Zevran was miserable. He tried to remind himself that it was, in fact, summer in Fereldan, and the trip would have been much worse any other time of the year. But it was little consolation to the freezing elf who was acclimated to a much warmer climate. He wasn't the only one, however, who was struggling with the cold. Eriana was having as hard a time with the frigid temperatures as he was, often appearing so wrapped up in cloaks and blankets that all you could see of her were her bright blue eyes peeking out from the folds of fabric. All things considered, the warm air of Orzammar should have been a welcome relief. But it wasn't.

Zevran never really thought that his Dalish heritage had much influence over him, but from the moment the heavy iron doors of Orzammar closed behind him, Zevran just felt wrong. It wasn't the fact that there were too many dark corners and crevices, Zevran was used to moving through such places with ease; nor was it the warm, dry air, Antivan air was much the same. Maybe it was the absence of natural light or the over-abundance of stone; he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was that was bothering him, but he silently hoped that their stay underground would be a short one. Perhaps it was an elf thing because he wasn't the only one who seemed to feel that way. Eriana seemed to tense up as well when the huge metal doors closed behind them. The two elves hadn't really been alone since the last evening they kept watch together, the cold mountain weather wasn't exactly accommodating when it came to socializing, but he found that he was a bit more attuned to emotions and moods than he had ever been before. Perhaps this was because he was watching her much more intently now than before. He realized that there had been a change in the way she seemed to feel about him, so he was giving her time to work through her feelings and questions. Eriana was more than just another easy conquest for him. She had already proven to be much more than that, and the longer she held out, the more he found himself wanting her. She was proving to be quite irresistible, and the fact that she had withstood his charms for so long promised to make the moment when she finally succumbed to his advances positively sinful. But today, he was focused on his discomfort because he shared those particular feelings with her. He hoped to get out or Orzammar as quickly as possible, but it was painfully obvious that the problems in the dwarven city were no easy fix.

Like the rest of Fereldan, it seemed that Orzammar was in desperate need of a King, but the assembly was deadlocked, unable to decide between Prince Bhelen Aeducan and Lord Pyral Harrowmont. It also seemed that Orzammar held the Grey Wardens in very high esteem, and each would-be king scrambled to win the support of Eriana and Alistair because their endorsement may just be the key to turning the tide in the election. Eriana was not exactly happy about this.

"Do I have a sign on my back that says 'King Maker' or something?" she complained as they were leaving the Diamond Quarter. "I mean, really, how many kings do I have to crown to stop the Blight?"

"Just the two," Alistair said, "But if it's any consolation, I really don't want it." Eriana shot him a harsh glare, "okay, maybe not."

Eriana managed to arrange lodging for them in the Commons, and then she divided the group up to go gather information. Zevran found himself paired up with Morrigan, headed for Dust Town. Leliana and Alistair were assigned the Commons, while Sten and Eriana headed back into the Diamond Quarter. Before they broke up, Eriana pulled Zevran and Leliana aside for a moment.

"Look guys, I'm trusting your eyes and ears to see and hear more than the others. That's why I'm splitting us up. Find out all you can about these two men, what their policies are, their reputation. We'll meet back up in a few hours to hash out a plan." The two rogues nodded, and Zevran headed toward the slums of Dust Town.

After making the rounds in Dust Town, Zevran returned to their lodging, which was little more than a common room flanked by two bedrooms, and was surprised to find Eriana already there, deep in conversation with the Qunari.

"Please understand this, Sten, I wasn't making light of our situation because I don't care. I do, more than you realize, and I am dedicated to stopping the Blight. But sometimes it can be almost overwhelming, so I use humor to ease tension. It may seem like I'm not being serious, but in most cases, I'm just trying to keep my sanity."

"Your honesty is much appreciated, thank you for explaining Warden. I will be sure to discuss your motives with you before I challenge your leadership again," Sten said.

Eriana laughed, "And I will be sure to explain myself better to you. I also promise you this, Sten, when we go to recruit the mages, we will look for your sword," she said, patting him on the arm as he got up. Zevran watched as Eriana stretched out on the short couch with a sigh, rubbing her eyes and her temples. "Where's Morrigan?"

"She decided to research some herbal remedies at the Shaperate," he said as he crossed the room to sit with her, gently lifting her head and placing it in his lap. "Is your head hurting mia cara?"

Eriana nodded, "I've had this dull ache since we got here; I think it has something to do with being this close to the darkspawn in the deep roads. Or it could be all this stress is catching up with me," she said with a slight smile.

"Then let me help," he said as he started to massage her forehead. She sighed and closed her eyes, a peaceful, contented look crossing her face. "Did you and Sten work your differences out?"

She nodded, "He felt that my casual attitude meant I didn't care. It seems that the Qunari don't use humor to relieve stress. I think we understand each other now."

"So no more assassination attempts then?"

She looked up at him for a moment before closing her eyes again and snuggling closer to him, "Not from him at least."

Zevran looked down at her; she seemed so relaxed, at peace. He realized that moments like this were rare and special. Running his fingers through her hair, he savored it, feeling her close to him, listening to her quiet breathing as she began to doze off.

She was just beginning to fall asleep when Leliana opened the door to the common room. Leliana paused for a moment, giving Zevran a slightly puzzled look before she crossed the room. Eriana's eyes fluttered open and she grinned up at Zevran before she sat up, "Hey, you're back. Where's Alistair?"

"He went to scrounge up dinner for us, so what did you all find out?"

Together the three rogues discussed the two candidates for the throne. It seems that Bhelen was the third son of the late King, the last descendant of a long line of dwarven kings, but that didn't necessarily make him heir-apparent. It seems that the rulers or Orzammar appointed their successor, and King Endrin had apparently decided to appoint Harrowmont. Bhelen, it seems, tried to seize his father's throne, which lead to all the turmoil.

"So Harrowmont is the rightful king, then?" Eriana said, "But is he the best choice for us?"

Leliana looked up at her, "What do you mean? Does it matter who is better for us?"

Eriana nodded, "From what I've gathered, Harrowmont is a traditionalist. He dislikes working with surfacers like us and seems intent on keeping the casteless stuck in Dust Town. I also get the distinct feeling that he is a weak ruler; I'm afraid he'll be easily manipulated and swayed. Bhelen may seem like a tyrant, but he seems more willing to work with us after this is all over." Leliana started to protest, but Eriana cut her off, "Look, I'd rather not have to make this choice, but since I do, I'm going to choose the candidate that will be of the most help to us after the Blight. Bhelen seems willing to change things for the dwarves, so who are we to impede progress? Those casteless dwarves in Dust Town are worse off than any alienage elf would ever be, but he's willing to change things. I mean, he's even marrying a casteless woman. I think he is the better choice, don't you agree?"

Leliana shrugged, "If you think it's for the best, but he just seems evil somehow."

"I don't know if he's evil, per se," added Zevran, "he just does what is necessary, an admirable trait for a ruler, no? Especially one whose realm is in constant peril."

"Look, I'm not saying he's the most honest or moral, Maker knows he isn't. The Shaperate already confirmed the documents he wants me to deliver are forged. But he is a man who will get things done, and in the end, isn't that who we truly need on our side?"

The other two nodded, "Good, then I guess that means we're headed into the deep roads, then." Eriana got up and spread a map out on the table in front of them, and the three rogues gathered around the map, trying to decide their next course of action. The map Bhelen's assistant had given them was a bit older than the one Eriana had procured from one of the Shapers, so they were trying to plot their course to Aeducan Thaig in search of Lord Dace. As they were talking, Eriana felt something brush against her leg; looking down, she gave a shout of surprise and jumped back into Zevran. "What in the Maker's name is that?" she shrieked, pointing at the white hairless creature at her feet.

Leliana laughed, picking up the ugly thing, "It's my nug, Schmooples. Isn't he cute?" she said as she rubbed noses with the strange creature.

Eriana looked over at Zevran, "It looks like an inside out rabbit," she whispered to him, forcing him to stifle a chuckle. "Sure Lil, it's adorable. Why don't you put him in our room so Ramoth doesn't get a hold of, um, Schmooples." After Leliana disappeared into the side room, Eriana shook her head, "That has to be the ugliest thing I've ever seen. Didn't we eat some of those nug things for lunch?" She shuddered and sat down at the table to study the map a bit more. Zevran stepped up behind her, looking over her shoulder, casually massaging her neck as they discussed their strategy for going after Dace.

"You carry too much tension in your neck my dear," he said smoothly, continuing his ministrations on her neck, "I could really work out the kinks, give you a genuine Antivan massage. I guarantee you would forget all about your headache."

Eriana made a soft chuckling sound, but never got a chance to respond because Zevran was suddenly pulled away from her. He found himself pinned against the rock wall, a gauntleted forearm cutting off his air way, looking into the face of a furious templar. Zevran could see fury radiating off Alistair in waves, "You get your dirty, Antivan hands off her," he spat at him, almost trembling in rage. Eriana had scrambled to her feet and was shouting at Alistair to let him go. She grabbed his free arm, trying to pull him away, but he slung her out of the way, sending her careening across the room headfirst into the stone table. The sound of her impact was sickening and seemed to stun Alistair because he released his hold on Zevran, allowing him to fall back to the floor, as he turned to stare at Eriana's crumpled form on the floor. This time Zevran didn't hesitate; he rushed to her side before Alistair had a chance to comprehend what he had done.

"Shhh, shhh, don't move just yet, mia cara," he said, gently stroking her head as he lifted a health potion to her lips. He glanced up at Leliana who had just appeared in the doorway. "Leliana, my dear, go and fetch Morrigan from the Shaperate, would you?" Leliana nodded and ran out of the door as Zevran turned his attention back to his Warden. Nothing looked broken, at least, but she did have a large welt forming on her head and her right eye was starting to swell and turn blue. Fury started to course through him. It took everything in him not to turn and run his daggers through the bowels of the silent man behind him.

"I swear, I didn't mean to. I didn't even realize she was there; I…"

"Alistair," Zevran said with as much calm as he could force into his voice, "if you value your life at all, I suggest you stop talking, now." His jaw was clinched, and his hands felt drawn to the daggers on his back, but he resisted, focusing on the blond woman who was starting to slowly come around. Focus on her and you won't kill her friend, he reminded himself. Lucky for all of them, Leliana returned quickly with Morrigan.

"So, can I ask you something," Alistair asked Zevran tentatively as the two men sat at Eriana's bedside. They had been sitting in an uncomfortable silence for the last hour or so, watching the elven woman sleep off her injuries. "What are you intentions with her?"

Zevran glared at him, "You speak of her as if she is not present. She right over there, you know, unconscious." He more or less spat the last word at him.

Alistair flinched a bit. "Don't dodge the question; I'm serious."

Normally, Zevran would relish a chance to torture Alistair in a conversation like this, but tonight, he simply wasn't in the mood. "Do I detect a bit of jealousy there?" he said, contempt filtering through his voice, "Feeling a bit territorial, are we?"

Alistair scoffed, "I'm just asking what your intentions are. You did try to kill us all, remember?"

Zevran turned back to the sleeping woman lightly stroking her arm, "And now I owe her a blood debt, as she has spared my life. It has brought us," he said as he glanced up at Alistair, "closer together."

"Is that a smirk? Are you smirking at me?"

Zevran's voice was cold when he answered the templar, "I assure you, ser, that I am not smirking," more like glaring murderously at you. "No smirking, here, no."

"Well, just…watch yourself, then. I'll be keeping an eye on you."

"Good," thought Zevran, "because I plan to make sure that you don't like what you see."

Thank you for all the kind reviews! Thanks for reading.