Standard Disclaimer: Bioware owns all Dragon Age characters and in game content. I own the bits that are left.

Chapter 11 – The Growing Years

9:11 Dragon Age, Circle Tower, Lake Calenhad, Ferelden – 1 year after Neria (now 1) was found

"Beatrice!" Ines charged into the infirmary, carrying an unconscious Neria. Beatrice rose from the table where she had been folding pieces of linen for use as bandages.

"What happened?" Beatrice asked even as she extended her magic to examine the little toddler.

"It's entirely my fault! I let her play in the laboratory as, there was no one around to ask to look after her, I had to tidy up my lesson notes for Expert Potion Making. Somehow she got into my potions cupboard and happily drank down an entire bottle of Concentrated Deathroot Extract I left in there for the next Expert Potion Making class." Ines was frantic and her eyes were bright with tears. "I should have placed it on a higher shelf. What was I thinking? I knew that she was in the curious stage where she placed everything in her mouth…" A sob shattered her rambling and for the first time since Beatrice knew her, she saw Ines break down in tears.

Struggling to concentrate and quashing her natural inclination to offer comfort to her friend, Beatrice did not answer as she examined the child from head to toe. Frowning slightly, she turned to Ines and enquired gently "Are you sure she drank the bottle? Maybe she simply spilled it somewhere else? She's not poisoned… She's asleep."

Ines' eyes widened disbelievingly. "Smell her mouth."

Beatrice leaned forward and sniffed Neria's mouth. Immediately, she felt the effects of a hallucination start to build. "Goodness!" She intuitively cast a minor healing spell on herself to get rid of the effects. There was no way a child so young could survive an entire bottle of Concentrated Deathroot Extract but after examining Neria again, she could not find anything wrong with her. The young child was simply in a deep slumber.

"Perhaps, she only had a small sip." Beatrice suggested, not really crediting it herself. "Why don't you leave her here and I'll examine her again after she has woken up?" She was very sure that she would find nothing wrong with Neria later.

-0-

9:12 Dragon Age, Antiva City – 2 years after Zevran (now 9) was bought by the Crows

Most people think that the assassin guild was called the Antivan Crows as the black birds were a symbol of death. However, in his first year as a Crow recruit, Zevran learnt that it was actually a mnemonic for

Covert
Reconnaissance
Obedience
Wiliness
Seduction

in the Common Tongue. These were the five stages that a recruit would need to be trained and tested in before he became a full-fledged Crow. For the past two years, he learned stealth, pickpocketing, lock picking, making traps, disarming traps, poisons and antidotes. This was besides the normal educational classes, stamina and weapons training they had to go through.

Zevran sailed through most of the lessons with ease, passing each test within three months or less. His pickpocketing skills were so profitable that Master Frediano was able to purchase five more recruits and supply them all very well.

However, he did not have the patience with the mechanics of lock picking, making traps and disarming them. When he missed meals, it was mainly due to failing tests for these. It was to his utmost frustration that he managed to break all the lock picks provided to him. Traps he made could not be triggered or were too potent or did not have the desired effect. Traps he was disarming had a habit of breaking his tools, triggering and even causing him serious injuries.

After more than six months of this, Master Frediano simply told his trainers that he did not care if Zevran did not excel as in these skills. He did not wish to waste any more money purchasing lock picks, trap making and disarming tools or sending Zevran for healing. If money crossed hands in order for Zevran to be pushed up, he considered it a small insurance against further damages to his fortune.

So Zevran was pushed up to learn poison and antidote making. After a week of these lessons, the recruits were no longer starved. Instead, they were presented with tables groaning with food at each meal. At the first of these meals, Zevran's survivor instincts clamoured so shrilly that he had very carefully sniffed and took only small portions from each plate. Recalling his lessons, he promptly pulled out his bag of antidotes and began quietly making antidotes to the various poisons that he tasted or smelled while most of the recruits fell on the food in delight.

At the end of that first deadly meal, Zevran was the only recruit from his room to survive. Out of over ninety first level recruits, only less than twenty were remained. They were all bundled into a new dormitory and learned that a fresh batch of recruits soon filled their previous rooms.

By the end of Zevran's second year, he was moved into another dormitory where there were nineteen other recruits. He was the youngest of them all.

-0-

9:13 Dragon Age, Circle Tower, Lake Calenhad, Ferelden – 3 years after Neria (now 3) was found

The young toddler in oversized apprentice robes with long braided raven hair and dark chocolate eyes sat quietly in her front row seat closest to Senior Enchanter Ines who was teaching Basic Primal today. No one appreciated how much she understood until Ines finished her demonstration and urged them to create the rock armour around themselves. Neria was immediately covered under a layer of rock that made her look almost like a mini stone golem.

She beamed up at Ines joyously and turned around as exclamations rang through the class. Her classmates, all older than her by several years were having a variety of success with the spell. Some managed to cover only their hands, some their torso, a few managed the entire body except for their heads. Thus, Neria was the only apprentice to succeed on the first try.

Ines could not help but be amazed at the young child. It had always been like this. No matter the school of magic, one demonstration was all it took for Neria to understand, control and wield it like a mage several times her age.

She glanced at Greagoir who had taken to silently standing guard at the back of the classes she taught. At first she was exasperated and demanded that he cease such duties. There was no need for the Knight-Commander to be doing guard duty and it made the apprentices very nervous. However, Greagoir had beseeched her not to rob him of the opportunity to be near her and she had eventually relented, wary of what he might do if she denied him even this. To keep up appearances, they sniped at each other as much as they could whenever anyone else was around and had everyone in the Circle believing that they were mortal enemies.

He was watching Neria so intently that she must have felt it. The child turned dancing eyes in his direction and grinned delightedly. In spite of his usual gruffness, Greagoir found that he could not help the answering smile he returned.

Neria was well loved and a secret within the Circle from the Chantry. She did not even have a real phylactery though only Greagoir, Ines and Irving knew this. The small vial with her name held the halla's blood, not Neria's. No matter how they had poked, pricked, cut or in the last resort, stabbed Neria in their attempt to draw her blood, she had only blinked and the wound would seal up as if never there. The weapon that they used to do the deed would be stained red but not a drop of excess blood could be extracted for use in the phylactery. The blood would always have dried up almost instantly. They would have placed in the dried blood but the magic of the phylactery vial required fresh blood. Even when they put her into a magically induced sleep or paralysed her, they were never able to collect even a drop of blood from her.

In the end, Ines suggested using the halla's blood, as a temporary measure, so that no other templar would question the lack of Neria's phylactery. Greagoir reluctantly agreed as he had no wish to murder such a young baby. That was the official course of action for any mage who refused to provide blood for their phylactery. He rationalised that Neria was not refusing. It was that they did not know how to obtain it from her and he was really loath to cause the infant any further bodily harm especially when Ines had taken to looking after her like Neria was her own child. Watching Ines interact with Neria and Neria's reactions to both Ines and himself, Greagoir would secretly fantasize that Neria was their child.

-0-

9:13 Dragon Age, Antiva City – 3 years after Zevran (now 10) was bought by the Crows

Zevran shifted his feet to ensure continual blood flow in his limbs to keep from cramping up. His current mission was to spy on one Prince Curcio, a merchant prince who made his fortune selling coffee. He would need to report on who he met up with, what he did with them, where he went, how he spent his day and why he did anything.

This was his first long mission and he was the first in his level to be given one. His trainer, Rinaldo, had been very pleased with the results of his first few mini missions. They were made to make observations after watching a seemingly benign scene after five minutes, fifteen minutes, thirty minutes and one hour. Each time, Zevran was the only one in his level who could shrewdly point out the disguised Crows within each location in addition to the other nonthreatening details. From scenes, they were asked to observe humans, elves and dwarves. They were taught to observe body language, facial expressions, words spoken and left unspoken, and last but not least to disguise themselves to infiltrate a targeted premise. Each time, Zevran was the first in his level to expose the subjects' secrets or infiltrate a premise through a disguise without being unmasked.

So now, he was given the reconnaissance of an actual mission that would pay Master Frediano a percentage of the profits if completely successfully. He had already observed the subject for more than three weeks. So far, the Prince had followed a very consistent daily schedule: visits to his office in the morning, resting in his villa in the hot Antivan afternoons, attending parties or whoring in the evenings. Zevran had even taken the place of one of the young elves in the establishment he frequented after said elf was disposed by an older Crow. So far, there was no variance and he was bored. He really wished there was more to do but he did not dare to lose his focus in case he missed anything as this could be a paying mission.

He was perched high enough on a leafy oak tree to see into the Prince's room on this hot Antivan afternoon. The heat made him sleepy but he kept shifting silently to keep from dozing. The Prince had come into his room for his daily afternoon nap and Zevran waited for him to undress for bed. However, the Prince did not disrobe. Instead, he stepped up to his fireplace and twisted a small decorative flora whorl on its mantelpiece. A door sprang open from the side of the deep fireplace.

Zevran gaped silently and climbed higher on the tree to see if the Prince was going into a secret room or leaving his villa. After less than five minutes, the Prince exited from the area of his villa closest to the side entrance normally used by servants. He looked around cautiously before briskly walking towards the paddock where his horse was grazing. Zevran entered stealth mode and leapt from the tree to follow him.

Prince Curcio climbed onto his mount with the aid of the fence and soared over it riding bareback on the horse towards the south. Zevran ran after him barely keeping up as the prince was galloping towards his destination with an eagerness that belied his usual lethargic self. He pulled up outside Prince Alvino's villa and tied his mount's leads to a branch out of sight from the villa. Moving to a section of the wall where there were angel motifs, he pressed on the head of one of the angels and a section of the wall swung open.

Zevran sought out and climbed another tree that would shield him from the eyes of Prince Alvino's guards but still enabled him to spy on the premise. He noticed that Prince Curcio was meeting with a brown haired lady in the garden gazebo. Soon, the purpose of the meeting was apparent. Both of them were naked and copulating on the cushioned day bed.

Zevran watched with a detached interest as they shifted in various positions. After nearly two hours, Prince Curcio finally dressed, kissed the lady and left the estate in the same way he entered. Zevran entered stealth mode again and trailed the Prince all the way back to his villa. Master Frediano was duly paid for Zevran's work on this mission.

-0-

9:14 Dragon Age, Circle Tower, Lake Calenhad, Ferelden – 4 years after Neria (now 4) was found

The little boy was standing nervously beside the templar who had brought him to the Circle Tower. Neria tugged Ines' hands to urge her to walk faster and, eventually, let go to run beside Greagoir's faster pace. When Greagoir reached the pair, he glanced at Neria and nodded surreptitiously at her. He was thanking the templar for his work when Neria drew the little boy aside.

"Welcome to the Circle Tower! I'm Neria. What's your name?" Neria smiled in welcome at the little boy. He had dark brown hair, sad blue eyes and he looked like he had been crying.

"I'm… Jowan… Just Jowan now, I… I guess." Jowan stuttered timidly.

"I'm four. How old are you?" Neria continued to hold his hands and Jowan relaxed visibly.

"I'm five." He smiled uncertainly at Neria.

"How did you get found out?" Neria peered curiously at him just as Ines walked up. Irving was teaching the Expert Primal class and asked Ines to take over his duty of settling the young apprentice just brought in. "This is Ines. She'll help you get a bunk in the apprentices' dormitories, robes, boots, writing and bathing supplies. Do you have preference? Upper bunk, lower bunk, beside a wall, stand alone, backing a wall…"

"Neria," Ines chuckled amusedly, "Give the boy a chance to reply you. He can't get a word in edgewise with you rattling on like that." It had been a stroke of genius on Irving's part to include Neria in the "welcoming committee" as it was dubbed. She was a natural at putting others at ease.

"Oh… Pardon me." Neria beamed beguilingly at Jowan. "We can talk while you get settled down. I have a feeling that we'll be best friends from now on. If you need anything, just ask." She declared with a winsome grin.

Jowan grinned back despite himself at the adorable elven girl. He just could not resist it. They walked side by side, holding hands, behind Ines as she led them further into the Circle Tower.

-0-

9:15 Dragon Age, Antiva City – 5 years after Zevran (now 12) was bought by the Crows

"Kill or be killed!" Leandro bellowed from the side of the training ring. "It's a fight to the death."

Zevran's eyes bulged in shock. To the death? He glanced at Fausto, his sparring partner for the past three years. The older teenager's nostrils flared before he crouched into a fighting stance, circling him.

Zevran did not want to hurt Fausto. They had been friends for the past three years since they were bundled together into one dormitory after the initial toxic feast. He was unlike the other human recruits. He did not treat elves like lesser beings and had even been the one to first befriend Zevran even though he was three years older than him.

Hesitantly, Zevran took up his attack stance and circled Fausto. Fausto was the first to feint like he always did. Zevran knew how his friend fought. He knew all his weaknesses and Fausto knew his. Well, he knew all the weaknesses that Zevran chose to show him. Marta was very specific in her instructions not to fully trust anyone within the recruits, even someone who was a friend. He bowed to her wisdom and compiled by not displaying all his skills when in front of others. Only on individual missions did he do his best to excel. If this was to be a fight to the death, it would be a very close fight if he was really only as good as he normally fought.

Zevran waited for Fausto to attempt to overwhelm him with a flurry of stabs like he always did. At the last second, he dodged while swinging his leg out to sweep Fausto off his feet. Fausto fell and before he could stand, Zevran's dagger was at his throat.

Zevran gazed into Fausto's eyes and saw his fear and wavered. He glanced up at Leandro and questioned "Is it really necessary to kill him?" when he felt the sting of a dagger thrusting between his ribs.

Instinctively, his grip on his dagger tightened and plunged into Fausto's throat. He stared, horrified, at his friend who was grasping his throat in futile bid to staunch the flow of his life's blood with both hands. Blood spurted in a relentless gush from his wound staining the ground crimson.

Fausto's dagger was still buried in Zevran's ribs and he felt the beginnings of the symptoms of being poisoned. A deep sense of betrayal rose in Zevran and he angrily drew his dagger out of Fausto's throat and buried it into his traitorous heart before standing unsteadily to walk to Leandro. "I believe the dagger is poisoned." He managed to wheeze out before he collapsed.

Zevran woke slowly. He felt like his body was on fire. He moved to shift into a more comfortable position and groaned from the wound at his side.

"You are lucky to be alive, fool." Master Frediano flew to his side in a rage. "Why did you hesitate to kill Fausto? Crows do not hesitate when given orders. They obey."

Zevran winced as the last sentences were nearly shouted in his ears. Elven hearing was more sensible to humans, shouting directly into an elf's ears was grating in the best of times. In his current state and with his injuries, the sound pounded and ricocheted in his mind causing an acute headache.

"What was the poison Fausto coated on his dagger?" Zevran asked, slowly sitting up to rummage through the bag of antidotes he always kept on him for possible ingredients.

"Quiet Death. Or at least it should have been Quiet Death. The dumbass only used two toxin extracts, two deathroots and one concentrator agent. That's why you are still alive." Master Frediano eyed his most promising recruit with a jaundiced eye. "Once you are well, you will need to be punished. You are aware of this?"

Zevran laid back down resignedly. His mind swirled with thoughts of Fausto actually wanting to kill him so badly. Luckily, he was never one to get his poison recipes straight. There was no antidote for a mistakenly made poison. One had to just live through the effects stoically.

He knew that he should have obeyed without hesitation. After all, that was the objective of this phase of training. However, there was something very different from killing kits, kittens, puppies, piglets, lambs, foals and killing another person who was also a friend.

For the past year, they had been given various young animals to rear. After a few weeks or, later, months, they were ordered to kill them. Zevran barely hesitated and was whipped soundly for dithering. Some of the other recruits who had refused outright were taken to Velabanchel, where Crows imprisoned anyone for torture or just to keep them captive.

Fausto had been one of the recruits taken. He was the only one who was brought back. When Zevran had enquired on his stay, Fausto had refused to divulge any details. However, each night, he woke Zevran and others in the dormitory with blood-curdling screams. The others had been infuriated by his disturbance of their sleep which they already got so little of each night. Zevran had helped to defend him against attacks from the others. After more than two months, the screams finally settled to soft heartrending sobs that only Zevran heard as he bunked on top of Fausto.

"I'll be taken to Velabanchel?" Zevran enquired falteringly then resolutely quelled the shiver in his voice.

"Yes, I have already greased some palms so they won't be too hard on you. But you will need to learn that any order given to you must be obeyed to the letter, Zevran. If you do not learn this, you will die as a recruit." Master Frediano sighed as he motioned to someone outside the room. "Heal up the recruit. They are already waiting to bring him to Velabanchel."

Upon arrival, he was dropped into a deep dark hole in the bottommost region of the prison. It stank worse than the sewage tunnels in the slums of the city and he only had standing room. He could not lean against the sides as they were jagged and tasted like they were lined with poison. Yes, he tasted them for the dew that gathered on them in the early mornings to keep from dying of thirst. It was the only way he could tell the passing of time given the darkness. They left him in there for three full days and he was nearly delirious by the end of it. Given a murky cup of water and a piece of mouldy stale bread for sustenance, Zevran did not even care if it was poisoned (it was not) and cramped them all in like the starving teenager he was.

Next, he was made to sit naked on a chair covered with piercing spikes that a mage had heated with a Flame Blast. Each spike burnt and cut into his flesh and it was all Zevran could do to keep from screaming. He bit down on his lip until it bled not wanting to give his torturers the satisfaction of hearing him scream.

Finally, after three days of this, Zevran was placed on a rack. He was close to delusional from the pain and blood loss. When they turned the cranks, stretching his arms and legs way beyond what they could naturally yield, Zevran finally screamed and fainted.

"Heal him and send him back. Master Frediano wants this one alive."

-0-

9:15 Dragon Age, Circle Tower, Lake Calenhad, Ferelden – 5 years after Neria (now 5) was found

"Senior Enchanter Wynne is back from Orlais!" The excited whisper was heard as the dining hall suddenly grew silent when a beautiful blond glided into it.

Irving's heart stopped then started beating frantically again as he absorbed the sight of his lost love. It was like the past five years apart had melted away and all the defences that he thought he had in place just collapsed without any warning. He quickly lowered his head before their eyes could meet. He needed her to continue believing that he did not care for her. At first, she had written him regularly but as he did not send any replies, not wanting to encourage her, her letters became lesser and lesser. He never opened any of the letters she sent. He feared what he would read in them. However, he did not throw them away or destroy them as he should have. He simply could not. They were kept in a box with so many layers of warding that it took even him more than an hour to open it safely.

Wynne gazed around and noticed Irving immediately. There was more white in his hair now. She thought that he looked even more distinguished than before. Damn it! Why does he get to look so good after so many years! She steeled herself before walking towards him. "Hello, First Enchanter. I have returned to take Beatrice's place." Senior Enchanter Beatrice was to be transferred to Anderfels as they required a Senior Enchanter who was gifted in Creation spells. Their previous instructor had died of old age.

"Good… Good… I believe your old room is still available. Have the servants bring your luggage up to it and freshen up if you require to." Irving mumbled, seemingly absorbed in his meal.

Five years apart and he won't even look at me! Wynne raged. "I don't have any luggage except for this pack." She declared hotly. "I will eat before retiring if you don't find me too dirty for the table."

Despite himself, Irving looked up curiously at the backpack that Wynne had slung behind her. It was the standard backpack sold in stores all over Ferelden. She has changed. She had always travelled with mountains of clothes, different staves, potions, poultices and other herbs, just in case. Of course, she's changed. It's been five years. "I don't mind at all. Find yourself a seat and help yourself." He forced his gaze back to his meal that he could no longer taste so that it would not to linger on her.

Ines beckoned from down the table. Beside her was a little elven girl with wavy black hair and smiling brown eyes. Maker! They remind me of Marcel's eyes. A stab of pain shot through Wynne's heart. She clamped down on her rioting emotions, smiled and went to sit beside her friend who she had not seen for five years.

"This is?" Wynne waved towards the child sitting on Ines' other side.

"Hi, Senior Enchanter Wynne. Welcome back." The little girl said in a sweet, melodious voice. "I'm Neria. I've grown since you last seen me, haven't I?" Neria tittered shyly. Apprentices from other tables glanced around at the sound and smiled to themselves.

To say that Wynne and Ines were astounded would be the understatement of the Age. "You can't possibly remember her, Neria. You were only a baby when Wynne left." Ines protested uncertainly.

"Of course I do. I shot her in her bottom several times with lightning bolts didn't I?" Neria answered not too quietly. Snickers were heard from apprentices while whispers started surging from the ones who were closest to them to others in the large hall like a wave.

Wynne stared accusingly at Ines as if this was somehow her fault but Ines could only helplessly shrug. "She has been a very aware infant." Passing a plate to Wynne, Ines elbowed to her sometime friend. "You seem to have become more well-rounded." Her eyes gazed meaningly at Wynne's breasts and derriere. Soft snickers were heard again around them. "Too much rich Orlesian food? Why didn't you write me at all in these five years? I can't believe you didn't even let me know you were leaving."

Wynne heaved a great, tired sounding sigh. "Let's catch up in my room later. The First Enchanter has informed me that I'm getting back my old one. I don't wish to talk with so many gossipy mages and apprentices around." The last sentence was declared in a tone loud enough to be heard by all around them.

Ines hid a smile. "Very well. Let's eat and talk later then."

-0-

9:16 Dragon Age, Circle Tower, Lake Calenhad, Ferelden – 6 years after Neria (now 6) was found

"Neria Surana!" Irving gruffly called the youngest student in his class. Most of the apprentices in Expert Primal were teenagers a decade older than her. They were all studiously taking notes while she had been gazing dreamily out of the only window in the room, high enough that it cannot be climbed even on chairs.

"Yes, First Enchanter?" Neria gazed innocently out her deep chocolate coloured eyes at him. For a moment, Irving forgot the reprimand that was on the tip of his tongue. Shaking his head, he moved to look at the notebook that was open on Neria's table. It was already filled with notes that he had just touched on. He wondered how she could have managed to write down everything so neatly and quickly when the others were still struggling and had to ask him several times for clarifications.

"Tell me, Neria. How is a Storm of the Century cast and why should it be when a mage is still fresh?" Irving asked while peering furtively at her notes.

"Spell Might, Blizzard and Tempest need to be cast together. Once the last spell to complete the combination is cast, it eats further into our reserves no matter that individually they don't cost as much." Neria replied without a pause.

Irving ruffled her beribboned hair. Wynne had brought back yards of Orlesian ribbons as rewards to female apprentices when they made achievements in the school of Creation or Spirit Healer magic. Neria, who proved to be very adept as a Spirit Healer, had won most of the challenges Wynne set out, much to the disgust of her older classmates. She had been almost as good as Beatrice and Wynne had shared that she believes that Neria would soon be as good as herself. Irving wondered how great her healing would be once she comes of age.

Normal apprentices were only proficient in one school of magic. Slightly more talented ones were competent in two. Talented ones were adept in three. Truly talented ones were skilful in four. Never in all of Irving's years at the Circle Tower or even in its history was there an apprentice who showed an aptitude for all schools of magic she was taught.

At six, Neria was already in Expert classes for schools of Arcane, Primal, Creation, Spirit, Entropy and Spirit Healer. Irving wondered how to keep her challenged in the coming years when she had already learnt everything there was to learn within the Circle Tower about magic. He would have to get Ines to teach her potion making. Perhaps, he could start her reading the various tomes within the library as well.

-0-

9:16 Dragon Age, Antiva City – 6 years after Zevran (now 13) was bought by the Crows

"There is no way I would be able to do that." Zevran declared hotly.

"Would you rather go back for an extended stay at Velabanchel?" Master Frediano remarked drily.

Zevran curbed his sudden compelling need to shiver. Tersely he gritted out "What has she ever done to anyone? Why would there be a contract out on her?"

"It is not our position to question a contract. Only to accept or deny it. I had accepted it thinking you would be grateful for a chance to give her a pleasant death. If you are not, I'll just get Taliesen to do it." Master Frediano commented in a disinterested tone.

"No, he will make a mess of things. I'll do it." Zevran's blood ran cold as he thought of what he needed to do. Perhaps he could make a run for it with Marta. No, they will just hunt us down. I would not trust Taliesen to do this deed. He has no finesse for assassination.

He dully mixed up the ingredients for Quiet Death, wishing to give Marta a quick and painless death. It was inevitable. Even if he did not do it, another Crow would and they would even torture her just to make a statement before transporting him back to Velabanchel for punishment. He did not wish to go back there. He still woke in a sweat from dreams of what they had done to him in there.

He took to the rooftops and sped through the city arriving at the Moaning Marta just before dawn. Marta was just locking up when he walked out from the shadows cloaking him. She jumped then slapped his arm in reproach. "Zevran! You scared the living daylights out of me! What are you doing here? It's not your day off today. You don't look well. How you been eating properly?" She bustled around, tidying here and there but leaving the more tedious work for the servants to take care of later in the morning.

"Do you know if you have offended anyone?" Zevran questioned while lining his dagger with the prepared poison. "Anyone who would be affronted enough to hire a Crow to kill you?"

Marta turned around slowly and saw what Zevran was doing. He wanted to give her that miniscule chance to flee. However, Marta did not run away. Instead, she heaved a weary sigh and motioned for him to follow her. Going up the stairs and tiredly trudging to her room, she remarked rather calmly. "I have something to give you before I leave. Your mother wanted you to have it once you were a man. As I will not be living to see that day, I will have to give them to you now."

Zevran was flabbergasted. He did not understand Marta's lack of fear at the certainty of death. He did not even know that there were still items of his mother's worth keeping.

Marta drew a key on a chain from between her breasts. She kneeled in front of a huge trunk and unlocked it. Delving deep into it, she retrieved a carefully wrapped packet and threw it to him. Zevran caught it reflexively and unwrapped it inquisitively. Nestled within it, was a pair of gaily embroidered gloves with the finger portions cut off. On one side was stitched a proud halla with full horns and on the other was a bow lying diagonal with a stalk of deathroot. Zevran touched them reverently. They were made of leather as soft and smooth as a baby's cheek. He looked up wonderingly at Marta.

She shrugged. "I take them out every now and then to oil them to keep them supple. Didn't know when I would be giving them to you. Didn't want them to crumple to dust in the meantime." She rummaged further into the trunk and drew up a small bag that tinkled. Handing it to him, she whispered. "Take this and don't let those murdering bastards get their hands on it do you hear? These are my life savings. If you let those butchers have it, I'll come back from the Fade to haunt you. Well, I suppose I should sit or lie down to be comfortable. I know you won't let me hurt too much." Her eyes were suspiciously bright as she cleared her throat and vacillated between the bed and the arm chair.

"You know that I'm going to kill you and you are fine with it?" Zevran asked incredulously.

"If you don't, you will never be a Crow, Zevran dear. I sent you to the Crows thinking they would give you a better chance at life. After the numerous ways I saw them train you, I made discrete enquiries and I know that they would make you cut all ties to love. They teach you never to trust or love anyone, Zevran. I am a hindrance to your education. I represent trust and love to you. It was a matter of time before they decided to remove the deterrent. I have been expecting this day for the past four years. At least they waited until you were a little older before making you do this gruesome task. I would kill myself if it helped but I know they would expect you to do this yourself."

Tears started to fall from her eyes as she sat down on the edge of the bed. She drew Zevran into a hug and kissed his cheeks. "I made a huge mistake in selling you to them. The money is within that pouch. I never touched it. I am so sorry that in my ignorance I have subjected you to this harsh life. Promise me that you will survive. No matter what it takes, survive. Survive and love. Don't ever forget love. There will be someone out there for you. Someone who will love you simply because you are you. So survive, Zevran. Survive with love, never without it. Promise me this so that I will not die in vain."

Zevran swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat before murmuring "I promise."

Grasping Zevran's hand which held the tainted dagger, she looked straight into his eyes. "Remember your promise." She plunged it straight into her heart. Her blood splattered on Zevran's face and something inside him broke irreparably.

Author's Notes

Not sure if any of you would be interested to learn Wynne and Marcel's story. Anyone interested should let me know via a review or PM. :)

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