Thanks to my awesome beta Brelaina for beta-reading this

A Vicious Circle

Zevran almost felt sorry for the guy. His little Warden was not in the good mood to start with and was growing more and more annoyed by every moment. One more clever remark and this pitiful fool would probably end as an ice statute.

"And I'm the Queen of Antiva. What do you say to that?"

"Oh? Well, Zevran here is an Antivan Crow, he should know. Is this the Queen of Antiva, Zevran?"

"My dear Warden, if our Queen was that ugly, her assassinator would be rewarded for service to the nation."

"See there, my Crow disagrees. And I'm getting impatient; I really don't have time to listen to your nonsense. So tell you what. You have time till I count till five–and should you still insist on standing in my way, I'll let him gut you for such insult to his queen. One."

"It will be pleasure, Warden." Zevran gave the Templar a toothy smile and put his hands on his daggers. The Templar was alarmed, but he still didn't give up.

"Look, the Tower is closed. Just turn away–"

"Two."

Now he drew out one of his daggers and lazily played with it. The guy nervously followed every movement.

"It's forbidden! The Knight Commander–"

"Three."

Part of him hoped the Templar would resist; he'd love to see how far the boy would take it. And how the others–especially Alistair–would react should the boy really order him to kill the Templar. In fact, he was surprised Alistair had held his tongue so far; perhaps he wasn't as stupid as he looked, after all.

"You–threaten a Templar at duty–I'll have you executed!"

"Four."

"Fine! I'll take you there. But–but the boat is too small for all of you. I can only take four."

Ah. Pity. He sheathed the dagger again and gave the Templar the sweetest smile, but he guy didn't seem to appreciate it.

"Well, I'm one. Zevran, what do you think? Would you like to see the biggest whorehouse in Ferelden?"

He noticed that the Templar jerked at this, and opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. Chuckling, he nodded. It seemed this was going to be fun.

"Morrigan, you probably want to stay at the inn. I don't think it'd be healthy for you to go there. Sten, I'm sorry, but you're just too big for the boat. Will you instead please keep our charming witch lady company? And Rask will keep an eye on you, won't you, boy?"

All three of them look rather relieved that they don't have to go. He knew, of course, why it was safer for Morrigan to avoid the Tower, but it was still a pity she was not coming. With her acid comments, it would be even greater fun. Leliana had nicer bosom, but it was so easy to rile her, that it wasn't half as fun as with the witch.

Zevran entered the boat and sat next to the Warden. Alistair gave him an angry look, probably suspecting that he would try to drown the boy or something. It'd been only one week since he joined the group, so he could understand that others did not trust him yet. But even if he still wanted to finish his mission, only an idiot would try something in a situation like this–in a tiny boat, closely watched by the mark's allies and a Templar. No, the Warden was perfectly safe on this boat.

Only it seemed the boy didn't think so. Eyes tightly shut, hands clutching the bench, biting his lip at the slightest rocking of the boat.

"Are you feeling all right, Warden? You don't look so good."

The boy didn't even open his eyes. "No–I mean yes. I just–don't like boats, I think."

Zevran chuckled. "You think? You are not sure?"

"Well it is only my second time on a boat… or third, technically. But I was unconscious the first time so that doesn't count."

"But if you lived in this Tower, surely you had to use the boat sometime?"

"I surely didn't. Apprentices are not allowed to leave the tower."

He looked at the Tower, at the small, barren island surrounding it, at the ruins of bulwarks and bridges. A prison, the crazy kid spent almost his whole life in this prison. That explained some things… including his bad mood. He wouldn't be happy if he had to return to his prison either, even if it was as a guest of honour.

"You mean you never left the Tower before Duncan conscripted you?" asked Alistair incredulously. Leliana gasped.

"Wait, you were conscripted? They forced you to join the Wardens? That is horrible!"

"And when did this turn into interrogation about my life? But yes, Alistair, since the Templar dragged me in when I was eight till the moment Duncan got me out five weeks ago, I never left the cursed place. And yes, Leliana, I was conscripted. Now, if you don't mind, I'd really prefer if you talked about something else."

Zevran stared at the boy with pure shock. Conscripted? Five weeks? After ten years in prison? Well, that explained a few things, like why he thought that the dwarven merchant who followed them and always stayed nearby their camp, was giving him a discount. Or why he was such a sissy.

But it did not explain why someone who spent most of his life in a prison would be willing to throw away his freedom and life, just to save people who had shut him in there in the first place. People who hated, feared and despised his powers so much they were willing to imprison an eight-year-old child. Why didn't he run away, now that he got the chance? Why was he trying so hard to accomplish a task that would be difficult even for an experienced general?

The Wardens explained to him everything, on his second day–how they must find allies, defeat the darkspawn and kill the Archdemon. So far, they met a few small groups of foul creatures and it wasn't exactly easy to defeat them; he preferred not to think about the whole horde. He had immediately decided he would not be anywhere nearby when the Archdemon appears. That was not cowardice, he thought. Just a common sense.

He spent the rest of the trip on the boat musing over these questions, but he couldn't find any sensible answer.

oOo

The whole Tower smelled of rotting flesh and blood. The bigger part of the hall was turned into an infirmary for the injured Templar, only there were no healers to tend their wounds, and the poor men were moaning in pain and fever. Those few still fit enough to fight, were standing next to a man with a strict, hard face, who was barking orders at them.

"Maker, what happened here?"

At Alistair's gasp, the old man turned to them, and anger and hate flashed across his face at the sight of the little Warden. Better to stay alert. He moved a bit to the side, to have a clear view of both of them and of the other Templar, just in case.

"Well, well. Look who we've got here. A regular Grey Warden now, are we?"

"Greagoir." The boy spat out the name as if it was making him sick. "And here I hoped you were out of my life forever."

"Indeed. I still won't forget about your part in Jowan's escape, Warden."

"And I'm still glad my friend got away from you, Ser."

Cold shivers ran down his spine. He remembered that tone; he doubted he would ever forget it. Challenging me to show you real torture, are you? Luckily, the Knight Commander didn't push it any further. He was not sure he wanted to see the boy's darker side.

"So, what do you want?"

"I need to talk to Irving. A Grey Wardens matter."

"That's not possible, I'm afraid. I don't even know if he's still alive. There was rebellion. Blood mages. And… other things. Demons. Abominations… But don't worry. We blocked them all in. And we already called for Right of Annulment."

"What? Did you go completely mad during these five weeks?"

"There's nothing else we can do! We tried, but there are demons!"

"And who can expect Templar to be able to defeat demons, right? After all, it's a bit more difficult to fight with an actual demon than to run your sword through drugged and tied up mage!"

"Are you saying I'm a coward?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying! Aren't Templar supposed to be 'protectors' of mages? And now that they need you, you turn your back on them and just slaughter them like cattle?"

"What would you have me do? I can't allow abominations to escape the Tower and go on a rampage in nearby villages!"

"I'm not telling you to let them escape, I'm telling you to kill them, you pathetic excuse of a knight! Aaaargh, forget it. I'll do it myself. All I ask is that you don't stand in my way. Let me in."

"You've always been an arrogant fool, just like –"

"Don't. Finish. That."

The boy said it quietly, almost whispered, and yet it was much scarier than the shouting before. For a few seconds, everyone just stood there in awkward silence, and then the Knight Commander nodded and turned away. Zevran wasn't aware he was holding his breath until he let it out now. What the hell was that about?

"All right. If you are so desperate to waste your life for foolish compassion with abominations, who am I to stop you. But I'm warning you. I won't open that door again unless I hear Irving. And if you are not back by tomorrow, I will invoke the Annulment."

"Fair enough."

"Are you sure about it, Airam?" ask Alistair warily. "The Knight Commander is probably right that it's too late for the mages and we cannot let the maleficars and abominations to–"

"Would you say the same if you knew what Loghain was going to do and had the chance to stop it and save Duncan?"

"I–that's–all right, I get it. I'm sorry."

"What about you two? Are you coming? Leliana?"

"I'm not going to sit by and watch the slaughter of innocents!"

"Zevran?"

"Well you won't hear any complaints about your 'foolish compassion' from me. For obvious reasons, I'd say. If you go, I go."

The Warden gave them a little smile and turned to Greagoir. "We're ready. Open the door."

oOo

This, Zevran decided, was his most horrible mission ever. Room after room, all they found was the disfigured corpses of mages. He had never seen so many corpses at once. The stench was almost unbearable and he deeply regretted he ate his breakfast. So far, they did not see any demons or abominations… but no survivors, either. The Warden checked every body they found, but all were lifeless, all were cold. With every next one, the hope was smaller, the feeling of failure thicker. Still, the Warden refused to give up.

There were only two or three rooms left, when the Warden suddenly stopped and held up his head, as if listening to something. "There is someone casting. I'm not sure if it's some survivor or something else, so better be ready. "

Zevran was just going to suggest that he will sneak in the room to check the situation, when the crazy kid banged the door open and walked in. Zevran rolled his eyes, irritated. Absolutely incorrigible. Didn't they agree on the battle tactics that would make the best of everyone's skills just two days ago? Which included him or Leliana always scouting ahead, especially in closed areas, to check if there were any traps, numbers of enemies, and such? And at the first opportunity to try it, the Warden forgot it completely and acted like a charging bronto. All right, so the he was still a minor, a fledgling without any training, but that was one more reason to listen to someone who knew how to fight, no? Frustrated, he walked into the room, hoping it was not full of monsters.

Luckily, there were no monsters in there. Well, if you didn't count children. Brats could sometimes be more deadly than a pack of wolves… But these were scared, desperate, with big round eyes full of tears. Most of them were still very young, only a few in their teens. Judging by the robes, only five or six were full mages. And only one senior mage–a rather exhausted looking old lady, who was casting a protective barrier on the door at the other end of the room. No more than thirty in total. If these were all that were left…

"Air, you're back, you're back!"

Bemused, Zevran watched as a tiny girl, no more than five, sprinted to the Warden and hugged his knees. He lifted her in his arms, and hugged her tightly.

"My little star, thanks the Maker you're safe."

"I knew you'd come and beat the bad guys!"

All eyes were now turned on the Warden. Some full of hope, some desperate. And some, especially from older ones, full of doubt and hostility.

"Of course I came. Don't worry, we won't let anyone hurt you. And my friends are great warriors, they'll teach those bad guys a lesson. They don't stand a chance. See the big guy? He's Alistair and he's reeeeally strong, stronger than an ogre. And Leliana, the nice lady with the bow? She can hit even little fly, even this small, see?"

"And the pretty elf?"

"Pretty, is he? Weeeell… perhaps… those braids are pretty. Though yours are prettier."

Zevran smiled at the little girl. "Why thank you, young lady, you have exquisite taste. And you should know better, my little Warden, then to doubt the words of a lady." He bowed dramatically. Leliana was giggling, and so were some of the children. Mostly girls.

"Yes, well, the pretty elf is also a great warrior. If a bad guy tries something, he will slice them with their daggers like tomato – zap zap zap, just like that."

"Really?" the little girl was staring at Zevran with wide eyes.

"Really really. Now, little star, I have to talk to the old lady here, about the bad guys, so we can go and kick their butts. All right?" She dropped her mouth a little, but nodded and the Warden gently put her down. He and Alistair then went to the old lady. It seemed they knew each other.

Zevran would like to listen, but the little girl tugged at his leather skirt. He smiled and sat down next to her. "Yes, my little lady?"

"What's your name?"

"Zevran Arainai, at your service. And yours?"

"I'm Stella Amell. You talk funny."

"Do I?" He heard Leliana giggle.

"Yeah. I like it. Can you really slice the bad guys like a tomato?"

"Stupid Stella. Of course he can't," said a surprisingly cold and harsh voice behind them. "And there's only four of them and there's many of those bad guys. And monsters. They will die. All of us will die. The monsters will eat us."

Shocked, Zevran turned to the owner of the voice. The little kid was almost completely bandaged, from head to–what was left of his legs. Eaten? In situations like this, he was quite grateful to Crows for teaching him to seem calm despite whatever was happening around him. What am I playing at here? Why didn't I stay with the Templar? Let the little Warden be the hero. I'm an assassin. The bad guy, yes?

"They won't! B-because, they won't let them! They are great warriors! Air said so! They will save us! Won't you?"

There was unpleasant taste in his mouth and he averted his eyes as he replied, with smile, "Of course we will. We will destroy every single one of them. I give you my word."

oOo

They shared all their food supplies among the children. The eyes of children lit up at the sight of the food. And it was enough to shut up the cold, rational voice in his head that tried to complain that it was not wise, not to take anything with them.

The old lady–Wynne–insisted on going with them. The Warden was not very happy about it, but he could not talk her out of it.

And then the fun part started.

Zevran had never been more scared, though of course he did not let the others see it. He even managed to crack a few jokes with Leliana. But he was really glad Wynne joined them. She was one of the best healers he had ever met, even better than the Crow healers, and that was saying something. The boy also knew few healing spells, but without her they would not stand a chance against those creatures.

Demons, Zevran, they're called demons. The Crows suddenly didn't seem all that scary. If you could defeat dozens of demons, a few humans shouldn't be that much of a problem.

If you can defeat them.

Floor after floor they climbed up, leaving behind them heaps of corpses. Mostly demons and abominations. He didn't really know the difference and wasn't sure he wanted to find out. But there was one good thing about them. They were not picky about who they tried to tear apart, so there were very few blood mages left. Those few they met were half crazed and not much of a threat.

The Tranquils were much more terrifying. The first time they met one, guarding the storeroom full of charred corpses, he almost killed him. He was sure it must be another abomination. The Warden stopped him at the last moment. Then the Tranquil calmly informed him that he'd 'prefer not to die'. Why, he wondered. Surely death was a better option than such an… existence. What was life for, if you couldn't feel anything and enjoy it? But he didn't press it. Wynne ordered the Tranquil to report to the mages they left on the first floor and to help them in search for survivors. As he watched that… being obediently walked away, he thought, with mild surprise, that there were even worse fates than living with the Crows.

On the upper floors, the demons and abominations were joined by possessed Templar. A few times they had a very close call, when both the old lady and the little Warden were stunned or drained of energy. It was almost a miracle that all of them were still alive.

But they were getting tired. He was getting tired. Moving forward by sheer will, he longed for a warm bed. Preferably with soft, living body in it, but if not, a long and sound sleep would do.

And then they were almost there. One last door, one last hall, before the very top, which was the last possible place where the First Enchanter could be, if he was still alive. They walked in, and of course there was a demon. It did not attack them. It whispered tempting words about a rest. A strange fog filled his brain, his eyes started to close, no matter how hard he tried to fight it.

Before he hit the floor, he thought he really should be more careful in what he wished for.

oOo

Zevran did not hesitate, or stop. He would not give them that pleasure. Only one more test. Endurance. Meaning he would be tortured. But what were a few more hours of pain? Let them bring it on. Let them try to break him. He will pass. More than that. He will earn their praise, as he did in all the previous tests. He will become a Crow. The best one there ever was.

Only something didn't feel right. Why was he wearing his armour? When did he put it on?

You worry too much. It is all right. Go on. Live your dream.

Yes, he thought, whoever that whispering voice belonged to, they were right. Time to go on. He opened the door and entered the torture chamber with a proud grin on his lips. The enforcers gave him a sly smile.

"Ah, another lovely apprentice to break."

"Look at that smile. He thinks we are as soft as Master Amador. Don't worry, little one. We will wipe it away soon. You will cry for us in less than an hour."

"Mmmm, that sounds so promising. Please, by all means."

They tied his arms behind his back, then tied the rope to his wrists and pulled it over the hook in the ceiling. Then pulled him up. Slowly, inch by inch, until his arms dislocated. The pain was so intense he wondered if he would ever be able to use his arms again. But he did not faint, he did not scream. Somehow, he managed to keep his grin.

"Still smiling, are you? Hmmm, maybe we should put more weight behind our words."

Heavy weights were tied to his ankles. "Still like it? Enjoying yourself? Good. Me and my friend here are going for a lunch. Don't go anywhere, while we're away, all right?"

With that, they went away. How long did he hang there? Minutes? Hours? Days? A whole eternity, it seemed. Every bone in his body was dislocated, or so it felt. Even breathing was painful. His bottom lip turned into bloody mess, so hard he bit it to suppress his moaning. It would be foolish to assume that they really left the chamber or, if they did, that there was no one else, watching, waiting for the slightest sign of weakness.

"Ow, poor sweetie. Does it hurt? Do you want me to stop it? All you have to do is show me tears in those lovely eyes and beg for mercy. I can never resist that. Ask Antonio, if you don't believe me."

"It is true. Come, you don't have to suffer like this. We will stop, you will be healed, and then you can show us your gratitude, no? Outside this chamber, we are really nice to our pets."

"Aaaah… such… enticing… offer… I… hate to… but… refuse…"

They chuckled. Antonio's friend playfully tracing the tattoos on his cheek with his thumb.

Wait. How ridiculous. He got the tattoos after the test. So how…

Shhh. Do not resist. Rest. Become everything you ever wanted. Sleep. Dream.

"Mmmm… such a pity. Guess we have to put you in different bed, then."

When they cut the rope, he crumbled to the floor, unable to move a muscle. A strong hand gripped his hair and dragged him to the rack. Sweet dreams on the rack, Zev, he thought bitterly. Whatwas that voice, anyway?

"We will make you scream yet. We won't go easy on you."

"Nobody threatens my friends and lives!"

What? Who was that? That voice was vaguely familiar… but it was not possible… "You… you're… not… supposed… to be… here…"

"What are you talking about? I came to save you!"

Don't listen to him. He is just another one who wants you to fail.

"You… cannot… it is… my… test…. I will… become… the best… Crow…"

"You already are a Crow, Zevran. This is just a bad dream. Just a trick of the Sloth demon in the Tower."

Tower? Demon? What nonsense. He was a Crow apprentice. Why would he fight demons in some tower? Perhaps the voice was right, this was just another trick of his Masters–They are great warriors! They will save us! A memory of a voice, a little girl... was she talking about him?

Don't listen to them. Don't let them rob you of your dream–

Oh Andraste's sweet ass, enough of this. Think, Zevran. Use your own brain. Remember. You know this person. "W-warden? You… are… really here… aren't you?"

"Yeah, we share this pleasant dream together. Don't worry. I'll get you out of there in no time."

He heard the enforcers scream in rage, and the next second, it became much colder. And he knew what it meant–the crazy kid was really here and casting his ice spells. So… this all... the rack… the pain… was not real? Just a bad memory?

"Are you planning to sprawl there for the whole day?"

Zevran grinned as the boy came into his viewpoint. "Mmmmm... tempting idea, but only if you stay with me. So many wonderful possibilities… It would be a shame to waste them, no?"

"Oh? With the rack?" The boy chuckled and cut off the ropes at his wrists. Cautiously, Zevran tried to move his arms and legs. A bit stiff, but that was all. He grinned again.

"Of course. There's nothing like a good racking."

"Duly noted. I bet Arl Eamon will have one in… Wait, what are you doing?"

He was just about to ask the same. It seemed as if something was pulling the boy backwards and he was quickly disappearing. One frustrated "No, not you, too!" and he was alone again.

oOo

Zevran had enough. And enough was too much. Stupid demon obviously didn't know that many tricks, so it kept bringing poor imitations of his former Masters and fellow Crows. They were popping up almost behind every corner. Now that he was awake, it seemed so pitiful he felt embarrassed he ever fell for it.

So of course, it was her turn now. Nothing he did not expect. He was looking at the scars on her neck and he was swelling with rage.

"Will you kill me again, Zevran?"

"As many times as necessary, demon."

When the body hit the ground, he walked forward, without one glance back. There must be some exit from this labyrinth. And once he was out, he would make matching scars on the neck of that Sloth demon.

oOo

When he finally found the portal and stepped through it, he found that the Sloth demon was a bit preoccupied talking with the Warden. It seemed he was the last one to appear; for some illogical reason, it irritated him even more.

"If you return, I'll do better this time. I will make you happy."

"Something better than an archivist? No! I can't imagine what that would be," snapped the crazy kid mockingly. "But I think I'd prefer to kill you now, if you don't mind."

Sadly, the demon did mind and was determined not to allow it. Enraged as they were, however, it was not a very difficult fight and soon enough, it lay slaughtered at Alistair's feet.

"And stay down!"

But the demon disagreed again. It got up, as if it wasn't dead just a moment ago and actually transformed into even bigger and uglier form. Not good. Their rage was quickly turning into despair, and soon it was just stubbornness and pride that was keeping them moving. By the time it was really dead–after another two risings and transformations–they were all exhausted, numbed with pain and soaked in blood. And he was sure at least two of his ribs were broken.

"You did it! You defeated the Sloth and his guardians! I would not believe it was possible!"

Yet another spirit was coming their way. He suppressed a frustrated snort and readied his daggers, but the Warden didn't seem alarmed at all.

"What, were there any doubts? Now come, let's get out of here."

But the spirit just shook his head. "It is too late for me… I've been trapped here for too long."

"Don't say that. There is still time. There must be some way. Don't give up now, Niall, please don't give up, not now that we won!"

"It's all right. I'm going back to the Maker… I'm going back home. I just wish I was a bigger help. But I'm not like you. I'm such a failure, I have disappointed everyone again…"

"That's not true. You're a hero, my friend. You should be proud." The Warden sounded a bit hoarse, as if he was fighting the tears. Which he probably was.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you more… now and before. I should have tried harder… No time now. Don't forget the litany, when you're back. It will help you stop Uldred."

The little Warden stood there quietly, watching the place where the spirit of his friend was just a second ago, face completely blank. Zevran realized he felt sorry for him. It surprised him. Why would he care? Why should the fact that his previous mark lost a friend mean anything to him?

oOo

The boy sighed. "Damn, this is complicated. How am I supposed to cast spells and recite prayers at the same time?"

"I could help with that. I am a Chantry sister, remember? Litany of Andralla is not that long… but you'll have to reply, all of you. A litany is a collective prayer."

Zevran flashed a brilliant smile at her. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for such a lovely woman, my dear. Just tell me what I have to do."

"It's rather easy. There are three responses that are repeated all the time: hear us, help us, give us strength, in that order. So when I say the first line of the prayer, you'll all say 'hear us', when I say the second line, you'll reply 'help us', after the third, it'll be 'give us strength'. Then, with the fourth one, you reply 'hear us' again..."

"Right. I get it."

"That doesn't seem too difficult."

The Warden just nodded. Zevran had been secretly watching him since they returned from the Fade, but even if he was depressed about the death of that Niall, he was trying not to show it. Zevran had to admire the boy's determination, even though he could not understand it.

"Let's go, then," said the Warden. "I don't know how long we were at that cursed place and I don't want to be nullified after all the hell we went through just because we were a few minutes late."

Zevran got up to his feet, suppressing a hiss. The old lady had healed and bandaged them as much as she could, but it was still difficult to breath and move. To fight a powerful blood mage in this state… The Warden briefed them in what Niall told him while they were caught in their nightmares, and they tried to make some battle plans, but… they were all aware how desperate a battle it would be. Curse that Uldred, he really couldn't choose a worse time to take over the Tower. Couldn't he do it few days earlier?

oOo

And desperate battle it was. Though thanks to the litany, they at least prevented Uldred to manipulate the other mages. At first, it was difficult to remember which reply they should say, but once they found their rhythm, it was easy. The first would be told by Alistair, second by Wynne or the Warden, as they were alternating in casting, and the third one was always his. He wondered if he would ever be able to fight without yelling 'O holly Andralla, bulwark of true believers, give us strength!'

And then, finally, it was over. He did not remember how they managed to come back down, until small hands hugged his legs and he heard someone shouting something like "My hero!" But that, of course, couldn't mean him. He was an assassin, not a hero.

Other people were shouting, and laughing, and asking questions, and there were so many hands touching him, hugging him, and someone even kissed him. Soon, it all became a blurred mess… and he could not keep his eyes open any more. I hope I won't wake up on the rack again, he thought as he collapsed into someone's arms.

oOo

When he woke up again, he was lying on a bed–a real bed, with real sheets and the Warden was sitting next to him, reading.

"W-warden? Where… am I?"

"Awake already? You were supposed to sleep the whole day," Warden said, in a mock accusing tone, quickly laying the book aside. "How are you feeling? Hurting somewhere?"

It was surprising, but he was fine. Nothing hurt, not even his ribs. "No… just still a bit tired."

"Good. Well, you were healed by the First Enchanter himself. And to answer your question, we're still in the Tower. We were all quite beaten and Irving insisted that we had a proper healing and rest."

"So… we returned in time? To stop the Templar?"

"Yes, we actually returned a few hours early. Aren't we awesome? Oh, and congratulations on your betrothal."

"On my what?"

"Don't tell me you don't remember! How cruel of you! Why, Stella asked if you would marry her when she's grown up, and you agreed! Everyone witnessed it, you know. There's no way out now."

It took him a few seconds to realize just who this Stella was and that the little Warden was joking and joined in laughing heartily.

"All right, enough fun. I'll bring you something to eat. You must be starving. Stay in bed, or Irving will have my head."

"Warden?"

"Yes?"

"I… Thank you. For coming for me, in the Fade… Not many people would come to save an assassin."

"I didn't go to save an assassin, fool."

"Yes, I… understand that, but–even so–"

"I went to save a friend."

He stared at the doors handle long after the boy left, wondering why that answer made him feel so happy and proud.

Few explanations:

One thing that always irritated me about DAO was the messy time line. When Duncan comes to recruit my Warden, there is already a war. When they come to Ostagar, it is clear the battle is "tomorrow". If the first quest is The Broken Circle, Wynne says that the Warden has been away for almost a year. But unless the Warden spent a year lying comatose in Flemeth's hut, it makes no sense… I'm going to change that.

Also, in Lothering, Loghain's men try to kill the Wardens–they even have the exact description. And then, suddenly, Loghain doesn't know about that the Wardens survived until Howe suggests hiring the Crows? Doesn't make sense, either. I decided that if he could know to send guards after you immediately in Lothering, he could also immediately hire Zevran. So Zevran is going to be in all adventures.