Alistair was thrilled to finally escape from the evil clutches of Arl Eamon. The Arl had spent the last eight hours trying to cram a lifetime of noble training into Alistair's head. Landsmeets, balls, vassals, and salad forks were all a muddled mess in Alistair's mind, and, on top of that, he was starving. It had been hours since dinner, and it was well past time for his mid-evening-after-dinner snack. Luckily, he was able to find Eriana enjoying her late night snack in their sitting room, so he plopped down beside her and helped himself to the platter on the table in front of her.

Eriana glanced up from the papers she was reading and grinned. "Cheese, Alistair, really? Don't you ever get tired that stuff?"

Alistair shrugged, "What can I say? I love cheese." He looked over toward the table in the middle of the room where Zevran and Ogren were playing some card game. "What's wrong with Ogren? He looks a lot drunker than usual."

Eriana grinned, "Zevran challenged him to a game of Wicked Grace, but he made it a drinking game. You lose a hand, you take a shot."

"And how is Ogren losing exactly? I figured he could drink Zevran under the table."

"Oh, he can, but Zevran is cheating."

"Cheating?" Alistair asked, looking over at the elf. "And he isn't afraid Ogren will catch him and, you know, go all Ogren on him."

"Nah, he's too good, and Ogren is almost too far gone to even see the cards anymore," Eriana said with a laugh. "Ogren should have known better than to play this game with him anyway; it's far too easy to cheat. Any rogue worth his salt can win easily at this game."

Alistair glanced over at him, suddenly interested. "Really, how?"

"Well, it just takes a simple sleight of hand to stack the deck in your favor, and since you draw your own cards in this game, you can also stack the deck against your opponent." Eriana grinned, "Zev only plays this with Ogren because he knows he can't beat me."

"Oh, ho, ho, you don't really believe that, do you?" Zevran asked from across the room, displaying his winning hand to Ogren before pouring the dwarf another drink.

"I do, and if I remember correctly, you've yet to beat me at this game."

"Only because I've let you win. It's all part of my grand plan; you see, I allow you to win often and lure you into a false sense of security. Then I will utterly defeat you," Zevran said with a grin.

Eriana laughed, "Liar."

"Thief."

"Murderer."

"Touché," said Zevran with a laugh. "Do you care to prove yourself; I'm quite sure Ogren's too far gone to notice if you take his place."

Eriana hopped up, "You're on."

Alistair watched as the two elves faced off over the deck of cards. Zevran's eyes never left the deck while Eriana's eyes stayed locked on Zevran. From time to time, she would catch his hand just before he took a card, or he would slap her hand away and they would both laugh. After a few minutes Eriana spread her cards out on the table, and Zevran uttered a slight cure. "Care to amend you bragging, Crow."

"Ah, my dear, once again you have bested me it seems," Zevran said with a laugh.

Alistair sighed; sometimes watching the two of them made him nauseated. "Well," he said, getting up, "I guess I'm going to try to get Ogren to bed. I shudder to think how grumpy he will be if he wakes up slumped over a table." Alistair made his way over to the dwarf and hoisted him onto his feet. Ogren muttered something about nugs as Alistair tried to steer the inebriated dwarf toward his room. It took him a lot longer than he assumed it would, so by the time he got back, the common room was deserted. Glancing around, he noticed that Eriana had left some food behind, so he helped himself. One more piece of cheese before bed wouldn't hurt anyone. He wasn't even aware that Anora was in the room until she spoke up from behind him.

"What it is with you Theirin men and cheese I will never know." Alistair spun around to find Anora standing in the room, glaring at him like she was appraising him. He still wasn't happy with her presence or her role, however innocent it may have been, in Eriana's capture, so he merely shrugged and turned back into the room. "I don't even know what I was thinking agreeing to this," she muttered, turning to leave, "you look far too much like your brother."

This caught Alistair's attention. His head jerked to the doorway where she was still standing, "What are you talking about?"

Anora turned and smiled a coy, knowing smile. "So she hasn't told you yet, typical; I suppose there's no real reason for you to know. Well, I guess you'll find out soon enough; then we will have to work out the details between us." And with that, she disappeared into the hallway.

"Us?" Alistair wondered. "There is no us, unless…no, she wouldn't. There is no way she could even imagine that I would ever agree to…" A chill suddenly ran down Alistair's spine. Eriana didn't really believe that he would ever agree to marry that ice queen, not if he had anything to say about it. He took off out of the room, suddenly very eager to talk to the other Warden.

Alistair hesitated for a moment outside her door, slightly afraid of what he might be disturbing between her and Zevran, but he shook it off. He needed to talk to her, now. Timidly, he knocked on the door. "Eriana, this is Alistair. Look, we need to talk." He waited for a moment, before he knocked again, a bit louder this time. "Maker's Breath, don't ignore me; this is important." He paused for a moment, growing more angry by the second. He almost walked away when he heard a sob from the other side of the door. Without regard for the elves' privacy, Alistair rushed into the room and was crushed by what he saw. Eriana was curled up on the couch in front of the fire, her knees pulled up to her chest and her head buried in her arms that were resting on them. Her entire body shuddered as she sobbed uncontrollably. Alistair's heart shattered to see her so broken, so vulnerable. She was always so tough, so strong; Alistair couldn't imagine what happened to leave her in such a state. He had never seen her like this.

Without a moment's hesitation, he rushed to the elf. Kneeling in front of her, he gently lifted her chin, "Eriana, honey, what's wrong."

"Oh, Alistair," was all she managed to get out before she practically threw herself into his arms, clinging to the front of his tunic, soaking his shoulder with the influx of her tears.

Alistair gently lifted her up and settled her into his lap, holding her as she cried. His mind raced as he tried to figure out what had happened in the few short minutes since he had left her; she seemed so happy just a few moments ago. And where was Zevran; shouldn't he be here through this? Alistair felt her body give a little jerk as she tried to bring her tears under control; then she snuggled up against him, burying her head into his shoulder. Gently, he pushed the blond tendrils of her face and looked down at her. Even with eyes puffy from crying and tear stained cheeks, she was still the loveliest woman he had ever met. Old feelings that had never quite died came rushing back the moment her tear-filled blue eyes looked up at him. Taking a deep breath and summoning all of his templar discipline, Alistair gave her a light kiss on the forehead and asked her what had happened.

She shook her head before settling it back against his chest. Alistair pulled her closer to him and stroked her hair as she spoke. "It's Zevran; he's been acting strange since I got back from Drakon, hesitant, distant, I don't know. Then tonight," she took several short, shallow breaths, tears threatening to flow anew. Alistair ran his hand down her arm, waiting for her to finish. "Tonight he just snapped at me. He said he was sleeping somewhere else, and he refused to tell me why. Alistair, we've been together for months; I don't know what changed. Then he took his things to leave, and when I tried to stop him, he told me to do something else with my time." She was crying again. "Then he just left. I just don't understand. What did I do? Why would he just leave me?"

Alistair couldn't imagine why anyone would willingly want to leave her. He had made that mistake once and it cost him. It cost him her. Zevran knew that; why would he risk making the same mistake? It just didn't make sense.

Eriana looked up at Alistair with the saddest eyes he had ever seen. Do you think he's tired of me? That maybe he was just using me as a shield from the Crows, and now that that threat is over, he done with me?" She sat up and buried her face in her hands. "That's it, isn't it?" Her breaths started coming more quickly. "Oh, I'm such an idiot. All this time, he was using me, and I fell for it." Her short, shallow breaths gave way to tears as her entire body slumped against him as she began sobbing again.

Alistair had had enough. "Hey, stop that right now," he said, gently lifting her head from her hands and looking deep into her eyes. "Listen to me; you are not an idiot. You are one of the smartest and kindest people I have ever met. If anyone is the idiot here, it's him." Eriana rolled her eyes, "No, Ana, I mean it. I was an idiot for letting you get away from me for not fighting harder for you, but if he is pushing you away, he's an even bigger idiot." Alistair grazed the side of her face and tucked a hair behind her ear, feeling her shiver beneath his touch. "There is nothing in all of Thedas that can even come close to comparing to you, and if Zevran doesn't see that, then he doesn't deserve you."

Eriana rested her head against Alistair's shoulder, but didn't say anything. She simply closed her eyes while Alistair held her, cradled in his lap, his arms wrapped protectively around her. He felt her yawn as her body relaxed against his. Sleepily she glanced up at him, an air of weakness rolling off of her, "Alistair, please, don't leave me alone….I just…I can't be alone tonight. Would you stay? With me?"

Alistair's heart jumped and sank all at the same time. He wanted nothing more than to spend the night with her sleeping in his arms, but she was hurting and need comfort, not something she was going to come to regret and resent him for. But he couldn't very well leave her alone, not in the state she was in. Reluctantly, he lifted her up into his arms and carried her to the bed she and Zevran had been sharing. He gently tucked her into the bed and sat down beside her, on top of the covers, stroking her hair as she drifted into a fitful sleep. Once he was sure that she was fully asleep, he slipped off of the bed and looked down at her as she slept. A different class of man would have taken advantage of her weak emotional state, but he simply couldn't bring himself to do it. Leaving Ramoth in the bed with strict orders to come find him if anything changed, Alistair quietly stole out of the room; luckily, he met Leliana in the hall as she was coming in from the Tavern.

"Lil, could you do me a favor and sleep with Eriana tonight. I'll explain everything in the morning, but she really needs someone right now."

Leliana looked confused, "Of course I will, but where is Zevran?"

Alistair's face hardened. "That's what I'm going to find out."

Zevran had lost count of his drinks after the fourth ale. He had taken refuge in the back corner of the kitchen, away from the servants who were cleaning up the remnants of dinner and his companions who were hopefully in bed by now. Finding the tankard in front of him empty, Zevran refilled it, hoping to erase the memory of that evening from his mind, especially the look on Eriana's face when he left her. Cursing himself, he took a long drink before leaning forward on the table, his head in his hands.

It was not like Zevran to allow himself to get so worked up, and over a girl no less, but here he was, drunk, sullen, and angry. And confused. Being so confused was what was the most unsettling. Before Eriana had come into his life, everything had been easy. Well, not easy, but at least things were rather straight forward, uncomplicated. He took his pleasures where he could find them and was content with that. Even his friendships had been shallow semblances of true relationships could be, but the main difference was that he didn't know any better. He had never understood the depth of emotion that he was capable of until Eriana. Even Rina had only scratched the surface compared to this.

Now that he had finally admitted to himself what he truly felt, his entire being was flooded with doubts and second guessing. Love? What did he know of love? The whores had taught him that love was an illusion, a product that could be bought and sold, a pretense that could be washed away like their painted on make-up. His first lessons in love were taught by those who had learned the hard way the heartache a soft heart can bring. Broken and jaded women laughed at him and scorned him every time sought out love or even acceptance from them, and not a one of them seemed sorry to see him sold to the Crows. No, there was no love in the whore house, only sorrow and heartache and temporary solace from broken lives and shattered dreams.

And what of the Crows, what did they teach him of love? They taught him that love was something only to be scorned and spurred. Any show of affection or friendship earned him a beating. He watched other broken boys around him, like him, who were too weak, too malleable, too loving. He watched as those boys were destroyed, and he became stronger. The Crows taught him to use the illusion of love to ensnare unsuspecting targets or to exploit love as a weakness, but he never understood what love was. Rina was the first person in his life who had loved him; he realized that now. And what had he done? He destroyed her, laughed as she died, and spit on her bleeding body. No, Zevran never knew love.

Never until now. Never until Eriana. And now, the prospect of that fact, the fact that he was loved so wholly and completely, and the fact that he may, indeed, return the feelings, overwhelmed him with doubt and confusion. What could someone who had only known passion and pleasure know of love? How could he tell if it was love that he was feeling or if it was merely a strong physical desire to be with her? He had never before been with a lover for so long or so exclusively. Was he simply attracted to her physically and had misconstrued that for love?

Sighing, Zevran replayed that evening in his head. After Alistair had led the drunken Ogren out of the room, Eriana and he had retreated to the room that they had been sharing since they arrived in Denerim. It had been a long day for Zevran. While Eriana had spent the entire day in meetings, discussing strategy with Eamon, Grey Warden affairs with Riordan, and politics with Anora, he spent the entire day contemplating his feelings for her. As she slept, he had whispered that he loved her, but in the light of day, those feelings were not quite so simple. By the time Eriana joined him in the late evening, Zevran had second guessed every decision he had ever made with her and was a fury of emotion. But he didn't show it, of course; he was too practiced at covering up any weaknesses to allow her to see it.

Zevran was sitting on the couch staring into the fireplace when Eriana strolled over to him, wearing the human sized tunic that she liked to sleep in. The oversized shirt should have swallowed her in an unflattering mound of fabric, but, like everything she wore, she managed to still look amazing. A familiar feeling stirred in Zevran's stomach as she settled herself on his lap and started playing with the braids that framed his face.

"You know," Eriana said, looking up at him with a coy look on her face, "I am so not cut out for politics. All this talk of landsmeets and political dealings has given me a massive headache." She wrapped her arms around him. "The only thing that got me through it was knowing that you would be here, waiting for me." She ran a finger down his chest as she whispered in his ear. "And I am ready show you just how much I missed you. Would you like that?"

Zevran took her arms and gently lifted her off of his lap, "No…I mean, no offense; I simply…no."

Her head jerked up, a confused and hurt look crossing her face. "What…is something wrong?"

"No, it's not, ugh, I don't want to talk about it." He tried to walk away, but she caught him by the arm.

"Are you sure; because it looks like you want to talk about it?" she said, a concerned look on her face.

Then he snapped, "Enough. I said I am not interested. Can't you understand that?" Eriana looked like he had slapped her, but he continued. "There are other things for you to focus on besides me…do those."

"Zevran, I…"

"Look, I think it's best if I stayed somewhere else for a while. I just…I don't want…" he sighed. "It's just for the best." Zevran turned to grab his things, but Eriana caught his arm to stop him.

"Zevran, what is wrong? Please talk to me."

"I can't, not now. Goodnight, Warden." And with that he left her. A few hours later, he found himself in the kitchen, throwing back ales, quietly contemplating his relationship with Eriana. He was physically attracted to her, of that much he was certain, but how much of his affection for her was tied only to that? He had never before been in a relationship where sex wasn't the main factor. Was he even capable of having feelings that weren't tied to sex? He needed to find out, and that was why he retreated from her bed that night. He had to know if his feelings went deeper than that, if there was something beyond her body that he wanted. If sex was all there was, he could handle that; if not, well, he could handle that as well.

Right? He thought he could, hoped he could, but deep down, he was uncertain. If he did have feelings for her, what would that mean for them, for their future? Zevran laughed at himself and drained the tankard in front of him. He tried to imagine their future. If they truly wanted to stay together, she would have to leave the Wardens; it would simply be too dangerous for both of them if she stayed in such a public role. The Crows would eventually come for him, so their entire future would be spent on the run, hiding from assassins, jumping at every sound. That was no life for her; no, she deserved more than that. She deserved security and stability, everything he couldn't offer. But the other option was even more unbearable; he would have to leave so the Crows would leave her alone. He could imagine this future just as clearly. Eriana would remain with the Wardens, probably as the leader of the ones in Freidan. She would be surrounded by fellow Grey Wardens who would protect her. She would be safer, better off without him, and he would be better off without her as well, away from the dangerous sentimental feelings.

And yet, he wanted her, needed her; though every fiber of his being screamed against it. Though everything that he had been taught told him that his feelings were wrong, he couldn't help it. He just had to know if the feelings were real, and that was what led him out of her bed and into the keg of ale. And he was content to stay there until a voice pulled him from his moping thoughts.

"You are an absolute idiot, I hope you realize that."

It took a several minutes and a few coins for the servants, but Alistair was finally able to track down the assassin. He was furious at the man and so determined to give him a piece of his mind that he started shouting at him before he even looked at him. The elf's turned slowly to look at him for a moment before turning back to the glass in front of him. Maker's breath, he thought Eriana looked bad, but Zevran looked absolutely awful. He never imagined that the cool and confident assassin could ever appear to be so weak, and broken. For a moment, he almost felt pity for the man, but then he remembered the elven woman who he had held in his arms as she cried herself to sleep, and the pity was gone. "I seem to remember you telling me that I was an idiot for refusing her, and now you are pushing her away. And why now, Zevran? Don't you think she has enough on her plate to worry about without having to worry about you?"

Zevran glared up at him, "Do you think I don't realize that?"

"I'm not sure what you realize. All I know is that I spent the entire evening holding Eriana as she cried herself to sleep, and over you." Zevran cringed a bit at that, but didn't say anything. Alistair stormed over to him and pulled his drink away, throwing the tankard to the floor. "Now, I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what is going on."

"And why should I tell you anything."

Alistair seized the elf by the front of his tunic, "Because if I was a lesser man, I would be with her right now, and I would have killed you for hurting her like this. So you are going to tell me now before I decide that I'm not such a good man."

Zevran just hung his head, "You should go to her; she deserves a man like you. She could do much better than me."

Alistair was taken aback for a moment. "Not that I'm disagreeing with that fact, but what brought that on all of a sudden?"

"Nothing, it's just, she deserves more. I could never give her what she truly deserves."

Alistair sighed and sat down beside the elf. "Unfortunately, this isn't about what she deserves; it's about what she wants, what she needs, and right now, that's you. As much as I hate to admit it, I can't give her what she needs, but you can." He put a hand on the assassin's arm. "Look, Maker knows I don't relish the fact that you are with her, but for some reason beyond my comprehension, she cares for you, deeply. And as much as it pains me, I can see that you care for her, too." Zevran glanced over at him. "Don't bother denying it; we all saw you when you came back from Howe's estate."

Alistair turned the elf and looked him square in the face. "Zevran, if you ever cared for her in anyway, go now and fix this. Do it for her."

"I'm sorry; I can't."

"And why not because I'm not taking that for an answer."

"Because," Zevran said, his voice heavy with emotion, "I am a nobody. A whoreson and a murder. What could I ever offer the likes of her? I could never give her what she truly deserves."

"No, but you can give her what she wants, what she needs." Alistair sighed; he couldn't believe that he was saying this. "I know we've had our differences, Zevran, but in the end, we both want what is best for Eriana. If that means that I have to drag you back to her, kicking and screaming, then so be it; I'll do it if it makes her happy. You are a good man Zevran, despite your past, and I know you don't want to hurt her." Zevran shook his head. "Good, now take this; it's Ogren's morning after brew that he and Wynne concocted for him. It should knock out your buzz so you can go talk to her without making things worse."

Zevran looked up at Alistair. "You are a good man, too, you know that?"

"Yeah, it always comes back to bite me in the butt, too. Now, go, and just so you know, if I ever have to pick up the pieces after you again, don't expect me to be quite so noble." Alistair said as he watched the elf leave, returning to the woman that he still loved. The woman they both loved.

Thank you to everyone who has added alerts and given reviews. It's nice to know that people are actually reading. I thought I'd throw Alistair a bone on this one since he always seems to get things wrong. I thought I'd let him get something right for a change.

Hope you enjoy this one, sorry for the delay between updates. Papers to grade and what not.