Zevran leaned against the railing, watching the water rush by. The stench of the burning ship had finally fallen behind them, unable to keep up with The Siren's Call. The world smelled pure again, and he imagined if he were back in Val Royeaux, her laughter would be musical once more. The sick feeling he'd carried with him since those black-feathered messengers had descended was gone. All was right with the world.

He turned and looked across the deck at Leliana. She sat with her back against a stack of crates, holding the hand of her battle-weary mage. He looked decent, considering all he'd been through. His head was lying against the bard's shoulder, and her red hair mingled with his blond where she rested hers on top of his.

The elf's eyes narrowed. Though the Warden Queen had been rescued, he had no illusions that his life was going back to the way it was before.

His head turned at the sound of raucous laughter and howls of derision. Aideen was standing up, arms spread, lording over the pirate she'd just beaten in what seemed to be arm wrestling. Her "twin" was clapping her on the back, shouting her praises. Aednat was no worse for wear after Wynne's healing touch. The claw marks were fearsome, but the scarring would be minimal, the mage had assured her. Aednat had brushed off her comforts, bragging about her new "badges of honor" and mocking Aideen for having none to show off when they returned to Vigil's Keep.

Aideen moved aside for someone else to compete, and she caught him watching her. She gave him a smug grin and a wink before turning away.

The elf sighed. Perhaps he should drop the pretense that he wished for his life to go back to the way it was. Perhaps leaving Denerim those five years ago had been a mistake. Yes, Leliana and he had had adventures of their own. All that seemed hollow at the moment. Surrounded by the first true friends he'd ever had, he began to wonder why they'd left in the first place.

"Mind if I have a word?"

Zevran didn't turn to acknowledge the voice. He didn't need to see who it was; the unfamiliarity of his voice was enough to identify him. "If you insist."

"Are you going to look at me while we're talking?"

Zevran resisted the urge to laugh. "Do you feel that it is absolutely necessary? I find my ears work just fine without my eyes to assist them."

The man came around in front of him then, blocking his view of Aednat, Aideen, and their pirate cohorts. His green eyes glared, and his fists were clenched as if he were already prepared for this meeting to come to blows. He had a temper, this stranger who had appeared at Lorelai's side. "Look, you don't like me, I get it. But we can be civilized."

"I find being civilized to be overrated," Zevran drawled, looking up at him. "Don't you? Being Fereldan and all."

The other man's frame tightened. "I know about you and Aednat and Aideen," he somehow managed to say between gritted teeth. "She told me."

"And?" the elf said mildly.

The stranger's eyes closed briefly. "Being a poor, simple Fereldan and all, I wouldn't dream of knowing the etiquette for this situation," he said, disdain clear. "So, I'm asking, is this a place I shouldn't be inserting myself?"

Zevran laughed mockingly. How was he supposed to let an opening like that slide? "Oh, only you can decide if you should be inserting yourself there. Your preferences are not my concern. You're not quite my type, however. So sorry if you had your eyes on me. One cannot blame you, of course. I am a fine specimen, no?"

"Maker," the man snorted, appalled. He opened his eyes and glared some more. "Do you have to enjoy this quite so much? I'm trying to be diplomatic here."

"I do, actually," he answered, sneering. "I gather you are the one who left the note for Isabela, at the inn?" When the other man nodded, he continued. "Though grand, such a gesture is not enough to earn my trust. Lorelai vouches for you, and that is the only reason you are not dead. Be sure you understand that."

"Think it would be so easy?" he responded quietly, hands flexing.

"Do not make the mistake of assuming I would fight fair," Zevran hissed, stepping closer. His vision momentarily shot past the man's arm, and he saw Aednat watching the pair of them, the contest going on beside her forgotten for the moment. She caught his eye, and gave a meaningful tilt of her head.

He sighed, stepping away again. Leaning nonchalantly back against the railing, he forced his anger away and painted his face back into devil-may-care lines. "Aednat seems to find you attractive. She is free to do as she pleases; we are engaged in no sort of fixed arrangement."

The man blinked at his abrupt reduction in hostility. "Ah, all right. Thank you for your…candor." He turned to leave.

Zevran couldn't help himself, and added, "Of course, once she tires of you, as I am certain she will, I will be waiting. Breathlessly."

The stranger froze, caught between leaving and wanting to turn back to defend his manhood. But apparently cowardice won out, for he resumed the motion and started walking away.

"Should she allow you into her bed, be sure to pay special attention to the back of her neck!" Zevran called after him. "You will not regret it!"

He walked faster, but not before the assassin caught the scarlet flush that had reached even his ears. Aednat watched her new beau flee the deck. She shot a look at Zevran, and went after him.

Aideen abandoned the pirates and approached him. "Naughty," she scolded.

Making an innocent face, he held his hands up. "I have no idea what you mean, my dear. I was merely trying to be helpful."

"Mmm," she agreed, the sarcasm clear in that one, hummed syllable. "You don't own her."

He blinked. "I did not give him that impression, quite the opposite actually."

"You don't own me, either."

"Did I give you the impression that I thought that was the case? If so, I am gravely sorry."

"I'll bet you are." Her curls blew about in the wind, flying forward and gliding across his face. "I meant what I said, when we were stuck in the…bubble."

Zevran narrowed his eyes even as his heart beat a bit faster. He knew exactly what she was referring to, despite the verbal gymnastics she was putting on. He feigned ignorance. "You said many things in the 'bubble', though I never doubted the truth of any of them."

She gave him a smug grin, as if even though she was steering conversation into potentially risky waters, she still had the upper hand. He was beginning to fear that was true. "Just because our life expectancies have changed, doesn't mean I've changed my mind about that statement."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah." Darting her head forward, she stole a kiss from his startled lips. Wiggling her eyebrows, Aideen strutted back to the clamor of the pirates. She didn't so much as spare him a backward glance.

Zevran could only blink at her departure. As if they were again trapped in that precious sphere of space beneath tons of crushing rock, he could hear that whispered conversation running over in his ears.

"Think we're going to make it out of here?"

"I do not like our chances, no. I do not mean to frighten you, but I feel it may be the truth."

"You and your 'truth' don't frighten me, old Crow."

"Oh? Then you are braver than I, my lady."

"What's to be frightened of? Being in your arms isn't a shabby way to spend the rest of my life."

"Gilmore," Alistair said slowly.

Lorelai nodded carefully, her hand stroking Jacob's fur in a mechanical, repetitive motion.

"Gilmore," he repeated, his brain still not catching the name properly. It wasn't that he didn't recognize it, or know who it was. He knew. All the pieces just…weren't coming together right.

She nodded again, not giving any indication that she thought his slowness was odd. Maker bless her. He tried to give it all a voice, maybe that would help. "Gilmore, as in used-to-be-a-knight-in-your-household Gilmore," (just to be absolutely certain), "set this whole thing up, including Grady, to punish you for…living?"

His wife pressed her lips together. "That's how I gathered it, yes."

"So, Grady's, and possibly Anora's," (couldn't forget her), "involvement was all coincidental."

"Apparently."

Oh. Right. Sure. That made sense. Now he had it all down.

"Would you be all right in here alone for a little while?" he asked calmly.

Without batting an eyelash, Lorelai nodded. "Sure, love. I'll be perfectly fine." Her hand continued to move over the dog's short fur. "Take your time."

Alistair gave her a gentle peck on the cheek, stood up and walked out of the small cabin the pirates had generously provided for their use. He stood on the swaying deck for a second, just breathing. Raising his face, he closed his eyes and let the sun warm his skin.

Gilmore.

All this time.

Husband's roar of fury poured out of his throat in a deafening thunder. Lover's rage washed out his vision with explosions of black flowers in front of his eyes. That was all right; he didn't need to see at the moment. Grabbing the nearest solid thing, he tossed it blindly and was rewarded by a spectacular splintering of wood. The noise was so satisfying that he threw something else. And then something else. And then something else.

Apparently everyone was smart enough to stay away from him. He didn't hear any shouts of protest, or feel anyone try to grab him. That was nice of them. Not that he could hear anything properly for the time being. He hadn't stopped screaming in wordless, primal wrath.

His vision cleared briefly, and he saw something solid-looking in front of him. Perfect. He plowed his fist into it with brilliant right hook.

Alistair blinked his eyes rapidly and looked around. His vision had cleared completely, and Husband and Lover seemed to have exhausted their hold over him for the moment. He was sitting on the deck. Weird, he didn't remember doing that. Glancing up, he saw the main mast with a sizable dent in the wood. Glancing down, he saw his mangled right hand cradled against his chest with his left.

Oh. Right.

The pain was barely impacting him, though he wasn't sure how. Now that he'd noticed it, of course it hurt. And it had obviously been what knocked him to the deck. But it didn't hurt like it should.

Maybe because Lover's eerie howling was starting to fill the area between his ears with all the subtlety of a rapidly boiling tea kettle.

"Let me see your hand, Alistair," Wynne said, crouching next to him. She clucked her tongue in sharp disapproval as he surrendered it to her. "Honestly, dear. That was not wise, at all."

"Just heal it, please," he responded without looking at her.

"Are you all right?" asked Leliana gently from the vicinity of his shoulder.

Magic eased over his hand and wrist, taking the barely-registering pain away. "Did I break anything important?"

"Not really. And we can resupply before Denerim, if we really have to." She paused. "Alistair-"

"I'm fine," he interrupted, pushing himself to his feet with a lurch. He wiggled the fingers of his right hand experimentally. Yep, everything worked fine. A dull throbbing had set in, and it would probably still bruise, but it looked like a hand again, instead of a bad copy of one. "I'd be better if there were some people around who needed killing," he added, mostly to himself.

"Alas, we're fresh out of those," the bard answered cheerfully.

Alistair snorted in response and went back inside Lorelai's cabin. She and the dog were still in the exact same position. Looking at her sitting on the bed, propped up against as many pillows as they'd been able to wrangle together on a pirate ship, it suddenly seemed hard to breathe.

She must have heard all that. There was no way she hadn't. And yet she looked at him mildly, as if he'd just stepped out of their chambers in Denerim to have a word with one of the guards and now he was coming back to bed.

"OK," he said, still finding each breath just a little shorter on air than usual. "OK, I think I'm…good."

"It's all right if you're not," she said.

"Oh, good, because I'm pretty sure I'm lying."

She smiled at him, a real one. "Break anything important?"

He shook his head, then shrugged. "Not sure."

"Good thing we're rich. It will make reimbursing Isabela easy."

He gestured to her, then at himself, then at her again. Words. He needed words to go with all that, but they were temporarily escaping him. The only thing that kept trying to come out of his mouth was asking her if she was all right. Which he already knew the answer to. "I know you need me to be strong," was what finally came out.

"I need you to be you," she corrected.

"Me, huh?" He tapped the trembling fingers of one hand against his thigh. "Well, I want to be everything you need, and everything I never thought I'd get to be for you." He gave her a lopsided smile. "I say that with all the love in my heart, but you know that you're not a woman who needs a man to lean on."

She made a face like she was going to protest, and then gave a gentle sigh. "I know. But you know that doesn't mean you aren't the most important thing in my life."

Laughing a little, he nodded. "I know." The trembling started in his other hand. He clenched his fists to try to control it a bit. "Look, I need to know if there's any other information of that…caliber coming. Because if there is, you should probably just tell it all to me in one big rush to get it over with." He laughed again, but this one was self-mocking. "I thought I had a good handle on this, and here I am, wasting my chance to be your knight in shining armor."

A sad smile touched her lips. "You're always my knight in shining armor. And this happened to both of us. Why should you have any better a handle on it than me?"

Excellent point, that. He knew he'd married her for a reason. And he did recall thinking to himself that there was something else he wanted to do, before carrying her everywhere. "So, tell me the worst bits all at once. I'll…do what I need to do. Then I'll be a rock." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "You won't be able to tell me from Shale. That much like a rock."

Lorelai bit her lip, but a tiny giggle escaped anyway. Her eyes sparkled a little. "You want to take turns having break downs?"

"I just need one. After that, it's your turn for however long you need it to be."

"Well, I have been hogging my first turn. Shame on me."

"Ladies first, and all that." His breathing still wasn't quite right, and he shook out his hands, trying to force out the trembling. "Go ahead, honey. Please."

Her hand stilled over the mabari's fur. She closed her eyes. "I don't know where to start."

He nodded, even though she couldn't see him. He understood. How to decide which were the "worst" parts? The least he could do was help a little. "Whose blood was all over you?"

"Gilmore's, and Grady's," she answered, eyes still closed. "I slit Gilmore's throat. Grady's blood came from when I tried to save him after Gilmore stabbed him."

"Save him?"

"He saved me from Gilmore," she replied in a detached tone, like she was talking about someone other than herself. She kept talking without any more prompting from him. It wasn't linear; she just seemed to say things as they came to mind. One minute she was talking about her cell in the fortress, the next she was mentioning something about wandering around in the woods while she was drugged almost senseless.

And every single statement was awful.

The trembling that had just been in his hands was now everywhere. He had her back. He tried to keep repeating that to himself, but somehow it made it worse. It shouldn't, obviously. But now that she was here, and safe, he didn't have anything to occupy his thoughts. Mission accomplished, time to go home. And his mind was free to gibber madly in the corner of his skull like it had wanted to do from the moment this had all started. He just simply hadn't let it.

She stopped talking, and her eyes blinked open, as if coming out of a trance. "Oh," she said absently, like an afterthought, "and one of Grady's men tried to rape me on the road, but Grady stopped him."

His breath rushed out like someone had punched him in the gut. It took him a few seconds to remember how to inhale. "So," he said when he got his lungs working in something resembling order again, "you're…finished, then?"

"As far as blunt, horrific statements go, yes, I think so."

"Good." He made his way over to the bed on shaky legs, and crashed down to his knees beside it. With a gentle but firm shove, he evicted Jacob from her lap. Alistair wrapped his arms around her waist. Even with her belly, it was no trouble at all for him to circle all the way around. Burying his face in her lap, he sobbed until his tears ran dry.

"We're sure they're OK in there?" Sigrun asked Leliana for probably the millionth time.

"Yes," the bard answered patiently, giving no indication she found any annoyance with the repeated question.

"They haven't really come out in…days," the dwarf pointed out, another repetition. Except for the passage of time part. That obviously kept changing.

"They eat," Leliana answered with a shrug. "What else would you like from them?"

Sigrun shrugged uncomfortably. She didn't really have an answer for that. She just knew that the King's meltdown had been horrifying. As had the Commander's trance-like state all the way out of the jungle. It seemed like a lot of things had been horrifying, even after everything had been put right. That didn't seem…fair somehow. The ex-legionnaire wanted her Commander back.

"I think you should start accepting the fact that Lorelai is going to give up her post as Warden Commander," the Orlesian said into the silence.

Sigrun gave her a dark look, masking her irritation at being read so easily. "I didn't think it was something she could just give away like a hat."

Leliana laughed brightly. "She's also not supposed to own lands, or be royalty."

The dwarf grunted. "Point taken. But who would take her place?" When Leliana stared at her pointedly, Sigrun gaped for a minute, then waved her arms in denial. "Oh, no. Are you kidding me?"

The bard laughed again. "No? You have no such ambitions? You've done very well for yourself these past months. I was there, remember."

Sigrun made a shoving motion towards the other woman. "Enough! I don't want your sneaky speculation in my head."

"As you wish," Leliana relented, her tone amused. Her eyes shifted, going over Sigrun's head. "What shall be done with our dashing son of a traitor?"

Sigrun turned to see Liam standing with Aednat. The blonde elf was talking to him quietly, but there didn't look to be much flirting happening. In fact, their conversation seemed serious. Liam kept shaking his head, and at one point Aednat had to snatch his arm to keep him from walking away. "What about him?"

"He should be punished, no?"

"Um, no," Sigrun disagreed in shock. "Without him, we'd have never found the Commander at all!"

"So I've heard." The bard sounded anything but convinced. "And yet, he is all that's left of this coup. Perhaps he should be made an example of."

"I'm pretty sure we made a good example when the elephants crushed their fortress with them inside," Sigrun pointed out. "Not to mention the fact that no one knows about this, except us. We didn't exactly make it public knowledge that the Commander had been kidnapped."

"Wrong," Leliana retorted sharply. "To our knowledge, we are the only ones who know. That may not be true."

Sigrun blinked for a few moments. "He deserves to be spared," she finally said.

"Well, it will not be my word that removes his head. I can sadly only give my advice." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps Alistair can be persuaded."

"When are you leaving, again?" Sigrun said disgustedly.

"Oh, I don't know about all that," the redhead said, blinking innocent eyes. "Weren't you the one who so accurately pointed out that all of us had simply left Alistair and Lorelai here? I find your accusations hit very close to home. Perhaps it is best if I don't leave it all."

She swallowed, and then sighed. She had said that to Zevran in a rush of anger. Had she meant it? Yes. Of course she had. She always told the truth when she was positively enraged. Now, after that comment, she thought it would be safer for everyone, Liam in particular, if the bard and assassin went on their merry way as fast as possible.

The dwarf shut her eyes tightly, not caring what the Orlesian chose to read from that. Of course, if Leliana and Zevran had been here in the first place, maybe their cunning and ruthlessness could've saved everyone from this nightmare. She shouldn't be trying to shoo them out the door; she should be begging them to stay. To protect the Commander.

And if the price for the Commander's safety was Liam's life? And if that was just the beginning of the cost?

Her head gave an involuntary shake of disgust. Who was she to say what cost was too high? She could admit to herself that she would have done anything to spare the Commander this experience. Sigrun had no qualms killing; she'd never lost a day of sleep over the blood on her hands. But the blood on her hands had always earned its place there. She had never had to make a tough decision when it came to her blades. There had never been a moment where she'd wondered if the dead at her feet belonged there.

"This is above my skill set," she finally said, opening her eyes to glare at the bard. "You and your elf friend know how to do this." Her eyes narrowed, making her glare fiercer. "But if you think that you're going to bully the Commander, or the King, into doing anything they don't want to, think again."

"I won't have to bully," Leliana replied, her eyes sparkling. "Lorelai is one of the most bloodthirsty women I know. Her mind may be clouded about Grady's son for now. But she'll realize his threat soon enough."

"Maybe," Sigrun nodded, as if in complete agreement. Then she smiled. "Or maybe you'll be seeing a lot more of Grady's son."

Nathaniel stood near the prow, watching the moonlight dance across the spray of the water as the ship cut through the waves. He'd left Sigrun snoring away, no idea that he'd come out for a bit of air. That woman would sleep through the darkspawn horde marching through town.

Almost beyond the moonlight's reach across the water, he could see the vaguest hint of land. Ferelden. Home. Despite the King's…fit, they hadn't needed to stop in Gwaren. Just as well, as Nathaniel didn't want to stop. Not until they were all packed safely into the palace in Denerim. So, they rode the coastline. In the daylight, they'd be able to see the Brecilian Forest streaming by. He longed to see normal trees again, instead of those monstrosities that had made up their jungle prison.

And he longed to have a roof over his head. He'd spent more months than he cared to count with the sky or tree branches as the only thing looming over him. One night in an inn, and a while on a ship didn't qualify as a "roof" as far as he was concerned. The palace in Denerim would suffice for now, but the strong walls of Vigil's Keep were calling his name.

The archer's ears twitched at a strange noise. It came from behind him, and to the left. Curiosity beckoning, he headed that direction. The noise came again, and he quickened his pace a bit. He stopped short when he found the source, momentarily at a loss.

The Commander was hanging her head over the railing, inelegantly losing her dinner into the sea. She lifted her head, and gulped in a couple deep breaths of ocean air. Something must have betrayed his presence, because she turned suddenly, her fear immediately evident as she plastered her back against the railing.

"It's just me, Commander," he said quickly, holding up his hands. "Sorry to startle you."

"Nathaniel," she breathed, and her hands loosened their grip on the railing abruptly. "Sweet Andraste, you scared me half to death."

"Again, sorry." He took a few steps closer. "Should you be out here by yourself?"

"Alistair's sleeping," she said, as if that was an adequate answer. "I didn't think to wake him just for this."

He came closer still, until he was standing next to her at the railing. "I'd think you wouldn't have been able to leave your room without him noticing."

Even in the moonlight, she couldn't hide the flash of guilt that slid across her features. "I may have asked Leliana to put something in his dinner, so he'd get a good night's sleep."

Nathaniel sighed, and raised his eyes to the star-filled sky. "From what I've gathered from the ship's gossip - and by 'ship' I mean your dear, well-meaning friends and Wardens - I wouldn't think you'd want him drugged to sleep."

"I don't," she said, snorting a laugh. "It actually terrifies me. That if I needed him, he wouldn't be right there." She waved away his response before he could make a sound. "I know, it's irrational. It's not like I'm not surrounded by perfectly capable people."

Nathaniel swallowed. Before all this, if someone had told him the Commander would admit such vulnerability to him, he'd have laughed until his ribs ached. Maker, if someone had told him that such vulnerability even existed in her, he'd have laughed. "You're allowed to be irrational for as long as you'd like," he said gently.

"Thanks," she said with a small smile.

He cleared his throat, bracing himself for his next, much more awkward, question. "I don't know too much about…pregnancy, but I was under the impression that this whole…unpleasantness would be long gone by now."

"Oh, I stopped throwing up all the time months ago," she agreed. "This is…not because of the baby."

Nathaniel looked harder, and noticed her entire body was trembling. "I see. Is there anything I can do? Anyone you'd like me to wake up? You know no one would mind."

"I want-" The Commander bit her lip, and then hung her head. "No, it's fine. I asked my Orlesian bard to drug my husband to sleep like an idiot, I'll deal with the consequences."

"Well, I know I'm a poor substitute, but I'm not doing anything," he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the railing.

She sighed, then looked up at him. "Actually, I've been meaning to discuss something with you."

He raised his eyebrows, even while his heart secretly sped up. Oh Maker, she would toss him to the waves if she realized he was still waiting for his punishment, cringing in his mind like a mabari who'd stolen the evening's roast. "Oh? What about?"

She told him. And every single sentence made his heart pound even faster. When she finished talking, he could only gape at her. "That's your plan?" he croaked.

"Do you hate it?" she asked, twisting her hands uncomfortably. "If you do, just say the word."

"No. No, I don't…hate it," he said, waving his hands in disagreement. Then he dropped them abruptly, and they hit his thighs with a slap. "Just… Are you sure? I mean, I thought…"

The Commander nodded, pressing her lips together. "Yes, I'm sure. It's appropriate, and I feel like it will appease everyone. And, if you change your mind, or if you don't think it's right, then you can just-"

"Keep right on going?" he interrupted with a snort. "You sure this isn't just a trap? Let me think it's only for a little while, and then 'a little while' never ends?"

She shrugged, and spread her hands innocently as she grinned. "It will be what it will be. I know you'll do the right thing, whatever you think that is." She sobered then, and sighed. "It's honestly not a trap. You'd be doing me a favor, and that favor will end when you say it does."

Nathaniel snorted again, but he believed her. It wasn't like she had to be asking; she could bloody well just say what was going to happen, and give him no choice, at all. Perks of the mantles of Warden Commander and the Crown. But she hadn't, because she cared.

"No one knows," she added. "No one but you. I'll tell Alistair…later. I want to wait until Denerim to tell everyone."

He nodded. "I'll keep it to myself."

"Thank you."

He blinked, and tried to shove everything she'd just told him to the back of his mind. At least for now. "So, let's find a place to sit, and you can tell me whatever's upsetting you. Or you can tell me nothing, but I'll still sit with you."

"Thank you," she repeated, this time in a whisper.

Gallantly extending his arm, he escorted her away from the railing to somewhere more comfortable. Even if he didn't want to help her with whatever she was going through (which he did), it wasn't like he was going back to sleep any time soon. Not with their conversation buzzing around in his head.