Special thanks to Brelaina, my amazing Beta.
Beast At Heart
It seemed killing Witherfang was indeed going to be very difficult. Not for the reasons the Keeper would expect, however. To kill a rabid wolf was one thing, to kill a beautiful – well, whatever she was – was something quite different. Especially if the blush on Airam's face was any sign. One would think that this was the first time the boy had seen a naked woman…
In fact, it quite possible was. He would ask about it later. Preferably in the camp with everyone around. Teasing Alistair was growing bit a old. This would be nice change. He could already hear reactions of the others in his mind. But now was not the moment, so he pushed it away and focused again on what was going on in front of him.
"You wished to talk to me, and I'm here," he heard Airam say in that haughty tone of his. "So say what you want. I'm running out of time."
He winced. That was not the way to talk to a woman, even if she wasn't the Lady of the Forest, and they weren't standing in the room with at least thirty werewolves. All of which were now growling angrily at the Warden. It seemed he should give the crazy kid some lessons in that area as well.
Thank the Maker the Lady wasn't offended. Or perhaps she was too wise and diplomatic to show it on her face.
"I know why you hurry, Warden." She smiled, and something flashed in her eyes. "But you will not be able to save the Dalish unless you listen to what I have to say."
"Is that so? Keeper Zathrian told me differently."
"Yes, Zathrian. Let us talk about him. How much did he really tell you?"
"Well…" Airam hesitated. "He told me… that he could find a cure to the curse, if I bring him a – certain ingredient," he said, wisely skipping out the part about ripping out her heart.
"My heart, I presume?" The Lady smiled at Airam knowingly. The werewolves howled angrily and almost jumped at the boy's throat. He quickly pulled out his daggers. One more moment and things would go very wrong. But the Lady held up her hand.
"Please, calm down everyone. We do not wish to fight." She turned to the boy once again. "Did Zathrian also tell you why he needs my heart for the cure? I am indeed the source of the curse. But it was Zathrian who created me."
"I – don't understand," blunted Airam, and he couldn't blame him. He didn't understand either – except that the Keeper, Zathrian, had played them. And he didn't like to be played.
"Many centuries ago, the Dalish were at war with a human tribe who lived here. Oh, there were no big armies and heroic battles… only malicious killing and murdering, on both sides. One day, the humans caught a pair of young elves, almost children. It was clear that they were not warriors. But almost every one of the humans that caught them had lost someone in the war. Blinded with hate and thirst for revenge, they committed a terrible crime. They… raped them, and tortured them, and left to die in the forest."
He couldn't see Airam's face, but from the boy's stance it was clear he was furious. He shivered. Was it just him or had the temperature in the room suddenly dropped? "Go on." Airam's voice was cold and dangerous.
"When the elves found the children, the boy was dead already. The girl still lived, and they took her back to their camp. Soon, her injuries were healed. At least those on her body. Those on her soul could not be healed. When she found out she was with a child, she killed herself."
"They were Zathrian's children, weren't they?" whispered Airam.
The temperature in the room dropped even more, and now it was clear that it was Airam who was doing it. He drew in a sharp breath. He remembered how the crazy kid once lost control and froze Alistair for half an hour – and then he was just mildly annoyed because of Alistair's comment on his hair. Now he was furious, surrounded in a cold aura. Andraste protect us all. He didn't realize he muttered the words aloud, until Morrigan shot a surprised glance at him.
"Yes. Zathrian was… broken with the pain and rage. At the very place of the crime, he performed the ritual, using his own blood to create a curse against his enemies. The curse was so powerful it gained its own shape and form… It became a being of its own. That is how I came to be. But back then, I was only a rabid monster, in the shape of big, white wolf. The wolf caused havoc amongst people, and every human that was bitten lost their mind, becoming a rabid, merciless monster as well."
"Don't ask me to pity them. I won't. I can't."
"We do not want your pity. We would tear those murders ourselves, if we could. But the elves are worse than them. This curse is worse than anything our people did. We want it to stop. Or we will kill them," snarled the leader of the werewolves.
"Swiftrunner. Calm down. We do not want to kill anyone," said the Lady quickly, shooting an irritated look at the beast.
"Allow me to finish my story, Warden, before you choose what you want to do… Years passed, turning into centuries. Perhaps it was the magic of this forest, or perhaps it was the cries of the cursed humans, but I slowly got a conscience and a mind. And I realized the cruelty of my existence. I was meant to remain a hated and feared monster. My only purpose was to spread the curse and suffering. Can you blame me that I decided to change it? That I wanted to help those I had caused so much pain?"
Airam remained silent, but the cold aura surrounding him diminished a little bit. Encouraged, the Lady continued.
"In time, the werewolves regained their mind as well. And all they wish now is to end the curse. The punishment of the men that murdered Zathrian's children was more than deserved, but how many more generations must atone for their sin? Look around, Warden. Look at the children. Do they deserve this curse, this perversion of life, for something that happened so long ago, that even the grandfathers of their grandfathers did not remember it?"
Children? He followed the Lady's gaze and noticed a few smaller figures, peeping from behind some of the adults. They were… rather cute, with big round eyes, baring tiny fangs at Airam.
"For many times, I have tried to contact Zathrian to talk. But he refuses to even think about it, and avoids me. That is why we decided to attack the Dalish camp. We hoped that he would want to try to save his own kin, now that they are sharing the curse with us. Instead, he sent you to bring him my heart."
There was uneasy silence when the Lady finished her story, all eyes fixed at Airam, who was standing there with his head bowed, lost in his thoughts. Once again, everyone was expecting his little Warden to come up with some miracle that would solve all their troubles – and that he would do it immediately.
Finally the boy lifted his head. "I am a Grey Warden," he said slowly. "Above everything else. I need the help of the Dalish to stop the Blight, or the whole Ferelden will fall. Including everyone here, even those children. If you know of any other way to stop the curse than what Zathrian suggested, I am willing to try it. If not…"
"You do not need the Dalish! We are stronger than them! Did we not prove it? Only one attack was enough to almost annihilate them. Help us and we will help you with the Blight. All that is needed is to kill Zathrian and his followers!"
There was a moment of silence after the proposal, and his heart skipped a beat. What if – no. His little Warden would not do such thing... would he?
Completely ignoring the werewolf that made the suggestion, Airam faced the Lady again. "You said you wanted to talk to Zathrian, about the curse. If he came, what would you do? Do you know a different way how to end this, or would you just let the werewolves kill him?"
"Zathrian used his blood to create the curse, and only through his blood can it be destroyed. Zathrian would die. And so would I, as the curse is bound within me. Nobody else would be hurt. The werewolves would become humans again, and the Dalish would be cured as well."
"Then I guess we should go get Zathrian here," sighed Airam, and turned to leave. "We don't have much time left."
"There is no need for that," said one of the werewolves, and everyone turn to him in surprise. "I bring news from our guards, Lady. The Keeper Zathrian has left the camp and is on his way here. He will be here when the sun rises."
Well now, isn't that a happy coincidence? If Zathrian avoided the werewolves so far, why would he come now? It looked too much like a trap. They better get going.
"That is happy news, indeed," said the Lady. "Now that we are not in such hurry, I would like to invite you, Warden, and your friends for a dinner."
A fleeting image, short but painfully detailed, of all of them sitting on the ground, chewing on half of a freshly slaughtered calf, raw and still bloody, crossed his mind. Not an experience he really wanted to have, but he couldn't see a way out of it – unless they wanted to offend and fight a few dozens of werewolves. And judging by how tense Airam's posture suddenly became, he would bet the boy thought the same.
The Lady didn't miss it, either. "Do not worry, Warden. We are not such beasts as you think we are." She smiled.
"Ah – I – of course. It – it would be our pleasure," stammered Airam, with quick sideways glance to them. But there was nothing they could do to help him.
It turned out they didn't have to worry – the food wasn't perhaps as good as at the Dalish camp, but at least it was civilized. There were normal tables, and normal plates, and that was more than they could hope for.
"They want to end the curse and become humans again, so they had to learn human customs, as well," explained the Lady with the voice full of pride.
At first he was concerned about poisons, but the werewolves ate the same thing as they did, cutting the meat right in front of them, always giving them the best parts. It was obvious they were trying very hard to present themselves as civilized people, not as wild beasts.
In fact, even though the meal wasn't that good (they obviously still had a lot to learn), the atmosphere was much better. The cubs – children – or whatever they were, were fascinated by them, but especially by Alistair and Morrigan. The witch's deadly glances scared them for a moment, but once they realized that was the worst of it, they became much bolder, coming nearer and asking a lot of questions. And when Alistair produced a piece of cheese from somewhere, he immediately became their best friend and a hero.
It was perfect – too perfect. He realized there was no chance that they would kill the werewolves now. And if Zathrian refused too cooperate… especially considering how the Dalish treated Airam…
He didn't want to think about it.
oOo
The werewolves took them to a separate room, which they apparently cleaned just for their sake, and even prepared four bunk rolls made of nice, soft furs. He decided he would take some of them with him, when they left the next day.
"Perhaps we should do as that werewolf suggested," said Morrigan warily, once they were alone.
"Why am I not surprised you come up with it," snorted Alistair. "Only a heartless bitch like you could even suggest it."
"'Tis as Airam said. You are Grey Wardens, and your first concern should be to stop the Blight. You cannot afford to act like a sentimental fool. The werewolves are much stronger than the Dalish."
"Not wanting to slaughter innocents is neither sentimental, nor foolish! Besides, we promised to help them! Don't you have any honour at all?"
"Honour? How can you be so naïve? When you fail to defeat the Archdemon, honour will not help you."
"Why don't you tell her something, Airam?"
"Yes, why don't you explain to this fool how the world works?"
Airam just sighed. "As you wish. Morrigan, don't be a bitch. Alistair, don't be naïve. Now, be good kids, stop arguing and go to sleep," he said. "I'll take the first watch."
Both of them stormed away, pulling their bunks as far from each other as possible. He chuckled as he watched it. They really were like little children… perhaps he should suggest Airam to spank them.
"And what is your opinion on all this?" Asked Airam quietly when the other two laid down on their bunks and turned to their respective walls.
"I will follow your orders, whatever you decide."
Airam arched an eyebrow. "That's not what I asked."
He hesitated. What Morrigan said made sense. It would be more practical to side with the werewolves. As an assassin, he was trained to care about what was practical and useful, not for the empty phrases such as 'honour' or 'sympathy'. And yet…
"My mother was Dalish," he said, avoiding Airam's look. "But I am not. I do not have any allegiances to the Dalish, and I will follow you no matter what you decide," he added.
"You mother was Dalish? But how did you get into the Crows, then? Was your tribe attacked by slave hunters?" Airam moved to sit next to him. "If… you don't mind me asking," he added quickly.
"Ah, no. She ran away to the city, with some woodcutter. There the woodcutter got some dirty disease and died, and she… she became a whore, to pay his debts. I was born in the whorehouse. She didn't survive the delivery. My first victim, as it was." He wasn't sure why he was telling the boy all this, but once he started, he found out he couldn't stop.
"So you didn't even know her? Zev, that's horrible!"
"Is it? I don't know. There were many such tales among the slaves," he said, trying to sound cheerful.
"The only thing I had left from my mother was a pair of gloves. Dalish make. That was all that she kept from her previous life. When the Crows bought me, I took them with me. But they were found – we were not allowed to keep any ties to our previous life. I've never seen them after that. I guess they sold them. Crows never waste anything."
"I – I'm sorry Zev. I can't imagine how hard it all was – "
Airam's voice was full of pity and that was the last thing he wanted. "While I appreciate your sympathy, it is not needed, really. It is just that the visit to the Dalish camp brought back memories… I once actually ran away from the Crows and tried to join the Dalish, you know. It… did not work well."
"No really? I can't imagine why! They are so welcoming and kind to their elven kin from cities!"
He chuckled. "Our wild relatives suffer of terrible boreism, yes."
"Of what?"
"Of being insufferably boring. Tsk, tsk. I would expect someone as bookish as you to know that."
Airam laughed. "I don't believe you. You just made up that word now."
"You wound me so, my dear. I ensure you it is quite a real word, even if it is not found in ordinary vocabularies. It is something known only to the most educated."
"Riiiiight. Of course it is," the boy laughed, but then suddenly became serious again. "But even though they suffer this – boreism, was it? - I don't intend to exterminate them because of that. And I don't intend to burst into an abomination and go on the killing rampage, either. So you can stop worrying now," he added.
"I was not worrying. As I said, I would follow your orders, whatever they may be."
"Is that so? Well, that's great, then. Good night, Zev."
Lying on his bunk, he wondered why he felt so guilty.
oOo
He half expected that the werewolves would try something during the night, but nothing happened. They got up very early – it was hard to tell what time it was, deep underground as they were, but it seemed to him he had barely closed his eyes before he had to get up again. Which was wrong… wasn't he supposed to have the last watch? It turned out that Airam didn't wake up anyone, and stayed awake whole night – no wonder he was so grumpy now.
"Oh will you stop it! I can survive one night without sleep, it's not like I sleep more than few hours every night, anyway," he snorted, when they asked for explanation.
"Now, if you've finished blabbering, just eat your breakfast – or even better, take the bread with you and eat it on the way. I want to have a private talk with Zathrian before the werewolves find him."
They didn't need to hurry. The werewolves showed them the shorter way to get to right the big entrance hall at the ground level – and when they got there, they found Zathrian already waiting.
"Well, Warden? Do you have the heart?" He asked, without any greeting. Such terrible manners, quite unfitting for the Keeper.
"I'd like to have a talk with you first."
"About what? Did you not brag that killing Witherfang is an easy task for you? Did you get cold feet after you saw a few wolves? In that case, get out of my way. I will do it myself."
"Killing is always easy, Zathrian," snapped Airam irritably. "I… know what happened. The Lady… Witherfang, she told me. I understand. But you must –"
"Understand? Do not try to give me your sympathy! What can you possibly know – why don't you just admit that you are a coward and get out of here! Go find some –"
"That's enough. You think you're the only one –" Airam stopped, and took few deep breaths. "Zev, I'd like to have a private talk with Zathrian," he said, ignoring Zathrian's angry protests that there was nothing for them to discuss. "Could you please make sure it is private? Thanks."
Clever. He really learns quickly. He didn't say it aloud, of course. "Must you? Things are just getting interesting," he chuckled. "But if you insist, I would recommend going to one of the empty rooms here. And keeping your voice down, of course. Do not worry, I will make sure nobody interrupts you."
Zathrian added few more snarky comments, but in the end, followed Airam to one of the rooms. Alistair, Maker bless him, decently retreated to the other end of the hall, but Morrigan had other plans.
"And where do you think you are going, my lovely friend, hm?"
"Don't play virtuous now, assassin. You want to know what they are talking about just as much as I do."
"True. But this time, our dear leader ordered me to make sure it is private. And I would hate to disappoint him."
"'Tis your problem, not mine," she laughed.
Nice try, but he expected the spell. He had many chances to watch her cast it during battles, after all. He closed the gap between them and grabbed her – or, more precisely, he grabbed the raven into which she turned into.
"Ahh, my dear Morrigan. You really are lovely bird," he chuckled, which earned him deadly glare and an angry peck on his hand. But she didn't transform back.
"Oh, I see. It is because you can not move your wings, am I right? Now then. It seems someone needs a lesson on proper manners, hm? What say you, Alistair? Could you try to find out if we have some extra rope about?"
Alistair still looked stunned, but quickly recovered at the prospect of tying up the witch. They were both kids, these Wardens. A few moments later, the raven was thrashing on the floor, madly trying to free its wings.
"I must admit, my dear witch, I've been dreaming about having you tied up and at my mercy, like this… but in those dreams, you were always human. And naked."
"Maker's breath, Zevran! You dreamed about that with – Morrigan?"
"I never said that, Alistair. But perhaps you were, when you came to that conclusion so quickly?"
Did he really think that teasing Alistair was growing old? Well, that was before he saw this new shade of red on his face – red as ripe pomodoro. Perhaps he hit a nerve? He must further investigate this. Too much fun to just let it go.
"Which part of her do you think are feathers? Perhaps I should pull one out, to see what she misses after-wards," said Alistair with devious grin.
"You might want to reconsider that. Chances are you wouldn't live long enough to see it."
Of course, he knew the Chantry boy would never do it – even Morrigan seemed to know that, looking more annoyed than angry. Once she calmed down a bit, he gently picked her up again, which earned him even deadlier glare and a more painful peck than before.
"Now, now, Morrigan. It is in your best interest to behave. I have a proposal, if you would like," he said in business-like voice. "If you promise you will not try to spy on Airam and that you will not try to kill me and Alistair, I will release you. Airam is obviously trying to work out a peaceful solution for this mess, so it would not be wise to start fighting here. Can we agree on a truce until we're out of this cursed place?"
She looked at him, still furious, but then nodded in agreement.
"Excellent! When we are back at the camp, you can tie me up and have your evil way with me, I promise," he purred, before untying the rope. In a flash, the witch was back in her human form. Dishevelled, red and furious. Such a marvellous view.
"You're a walking corpse, assassin."
"Am I? Well then, I am glad I at least kept my good looks," he chuckled.
"Don't forget we only have a truce while we're here," she warned him with an unnerving calmness.
"Ah, Morrigan, I am truly looking forward to it. I do not mind being killed by a nice bird… except for a Crow," he laughed, with smug grin on his face.
I better not sleep or eat anything besides my own stock before she forgives me. The next few days were going to be interesting.
oOo
It didn't take long before Airam and Zathrian were back. Any comments or questions they might want to make died on their lips at the look on the boy's ashen face – he looked as if someone had drained all life and joy out of him.
"Air… are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Al. Stop staring at me like that. I'm just tired – I guess staying awake whole night wasn't such a brilliant idea, after all."
Airam tried to smile, but not even Alistair was fooled this time. Zathrian didn't look all that well either, now that he looked at him. He was pale and seemed much older than before. But it was obvious that whatever happened between the two of them, neither Airam nor Zathrian wanted to talk about it.
"You should get some rest and a proper meal," suggested Alistair, but Airam shook his head.
"No, I want to end this curse as soon as possible."
"'Twill take longer if you collapse," snapped Morrigan, who looked sincerely worried. Perhaps she had a heart, after all.
"I won't. Look – I'm not able to have a proper argument right now. It would be just a plain row full of dull, unwitty, and possibly hurtful comments. You can try to reprimand me later, all right?"
He chuckled at Zathrian's expression at that comment. What? Extraordinary tasks required extraordinary minds, no?
oOo
"You wanted to talk to me, Spirit? Then talk."
Well. Judging by the vicious tone, Zathrian's mind obviously wasn't extraordinary and this was going to one of those common rows full of dull and hurtful comments.
"Zathrian. You know what I want. Stop the curse. Stop this madness. Those that wronged you are long dead now. These people –"
"People? I see only beasts. Same as their ancestors were. That was the curse: to make them look on the outside like the beasts they were inside. Had bestiality not been in them, they would be immune to your bites!"
"Nobody argues that, Zathrian. They deserved their punishment. But these children do not!"
"They would only change on the surface! Inside, they would remain the same rabid beasts they are now! "
That was finally too much for Airam. "Zathrian. Please. Look at those children – look into their eyes and tell me they are to blame for what happened centuries ago! Don't you see? If you don't stop it, you won't be any better than those murderers! You will be worse, in fact. Much worse. And this hate is already destroying your tribe, as well. If you won't do it for the werewolves, do it for your tribe! Aren't you their Keeper? Isn't it your duty to – "
"Don't tell me about my duties, flat-ear! Do not pretend you care about us! Should you not need elves to fight and die in the Blight, you would let us die to our curse! You are no better than the shemlens!"
"Oh please! Don't try to change this into a wronged-Dalish-against-evil-outsiders discussion! This is not about the Dalish, or flat-ears, or shemlens! This is about you, your hate and your cruelty! Your hunters are dying as we speak, and you don't give a damn, you would let it happen for something no one besides you and the spirit you created even remembers."
"Do you not want those – murderers to suffer forever?"
Now that was interesting question. Why should Airam want some murderers from several centuries ago to suffer? Unless it meant something else.
"Murderers, yes. But not their descendants of the twentieth generation!"
"That is your opinion. Perhaps you just did not care as much – "
Airam stiffened. "Say that again. I dare you."
Zathrian glared at the boy with open hate and scorn. "No wonder you became friends with these beasts so quickly. You are not better than them. Look at you, lecturing me about my duties about Keeper, while you refuse to accept – "
"That is enough, Zathrian. You would twist anything to fit your hate, wouldn't you? Tell me what you want, then. Do you want to kill the Lady? You can certainly try, but let me warn you that you will face not only werewolves, but also me and my people Or do you want to kill infected hunters before they turn into beasts? Will you kill them, for your selfishness? Will you be able to live with that?"
There was a ringing silence after that, everyone holding their breath, waiting for the Zathrian's response.
"You want me to forgive them? I cannot. I do not know how. It might be too late for that, now. You were right. There is nothing left inside me but darkness and hate."
That was the last thing he would expect to hear from Zathrian. In fact, Airam was the only one who was not surprised.
"What about you, spirit? If I lift the curse, you will die. Are you not afraid of death?"
"I am not," she replied. "I have lived many years, and experienced much anger, and hate and loneliness; but I have also experienced joy and love – and family. I will gladly give my life, if it will help my clan."
Zathrian bowed his head. "You shame me, spirit. All right. I will do it."
"Is there anything you would need for the ritual? Lyrium, perhaps? We have some stock," offered Airam.
"No. There is no ritual. The only way to end the curse is to kill me, because it is bound to my blood." He quirked an eyebrow at the boy. "Do not tell me you have not guessed."
"I did. But I hoped there might be another way," he admitted quietly, dropping his eyes.
Zathrian studied him for a while. "You are an interesting lad… Do not let this happen to you."
"I'll try." The answer was barely audible, and for a brief moment, he could see behind Airam's mask of the Grey Warden, a fearless leader of the saviours of Ferelden, a powerful mage – and instead he saw a lonely and terrified child.
oOo
It didn't take long, after that. The werewolves said their goodbyes to the Lady, and perhaps he would have been be touched, if he wasn't so worried for his little Warden. Zathrian's lifeless body hit the ground, while the Lady evaporated in thin air, and the curse was broken.
The room was suddenly full of naked, hairy, bearded, dirty and extremely smelly humans, dancing around in joy. Alistair's confused "Maker's sweet ass!" summed it up perfectly, and they had no wish to linger there further, although they were invited for a celebration.
"I am sorry, but I have to decline," said Airam politely, but a bit too quickly for it to be sincere; luckily, such subtlety was still out of their grasp. "But we have to bring the Zathrian's body back to the Dalish for a proper funeral."
When they finally got out, it was almost noon. They were all incredibly hungry, but they didn't want to eat right there in front of the ruins – the ex-werewolves could feel offended, and they didn't want to find out how much of werewolves still remained in them. However, when they finally sat down to eat, Airam started to hurry them again.
"Sorry, pal, but no way. I'm so hungry I could eat you," protested Alistair. "I mean literally," he added quickly when he noticed Zevran's smile.
"Why are you in such hurry anyway? Did we not win? We deserve at least a proper meal," joined Morrigan.
"I know, but can't we celebrate in the Dalish camp? If we hurry up, we can perhaps make it before dinner."
Alistair stared at him, surprised. "No we can't. You know that. And especially not carrying the – carrying Zathrian. What is your problem?"
"Nothing, really. It's just – I ran out of sleeping potions."
"Those nightmares about the Archdemon again? You know, it's rather unusual, so long after the Joining… But I'm sure you can survive one night of bad dreams."
Airam didn't reply.
oOo
"May I join you?"
"Of course. You can not sleep because of bad dreams?"
"No. I didn't sleep at all. I don't want to."
Airam sounded terribly tired, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Something was wrong; this was not the first time Airam was left without the potions, but he never was so desperate before.
"What do you mean?" He asked carefully.
"I don't want to sleep tonight. I… I don't want to scream and wake everyone."
Nonsense. They were all pretty much used to it by now, because even with the potions, the dreams would come, and Airam would scream, drenched in cold sweat, until someone, usually Wynne didn't woke him up.
But he didn't say it aloud. "You think it will be worse today? Is it… because of Zathrian? The curse, and his sacrifice – it was all rather stressful." Is it because of that talk with Zathrian? is what he would really like to ask, but he knew better than to pry.
"Yes – no – well, partially."
So it was related to that talk. But Airam didn't sleep the night before that talk… Was it something that the Lady said? About Zathrian?
"Zev. Do you think you could… help me stay awake for a while? Tell me one of your awesome adventures. Please?"
He barely resisted the urge to hug and kiss him, so adorable he was, with those big eyes full of worry. "Even for the whole night, if you wish. I could then brag to Wynne that we spent the night together. She would be thrilled, I am sure."
Airam shook his head. "Please, Zev, don't – not tonight, ok? No lecherous comments, or dirty jokes, no nothing that concerns sex in any way."
Now he was even more confused. Airam never minded little dirty jokes, and sometimes would even join him in teasing Alistair.
"One day I will explain, I promise, but not now. Just help me stay awake, during your watch. You don't have to stay with me the whole night; I don't want you to be exhausted tomorrow as well. Just for a few hours. Please."
"Ah, I can survive one night without sleep, it's not like I sleep more than few hours every night, anyway, as a friend of mine once said. To find a story that does not mention sex will be much bigger problem," he chuckled, careful not to show how worried he was. He had never heard such despair in Airam's voice, usually he was the most optimistic and flippant one…
Then he remembered the boy's face after Zathrian's last words to him. Do not let this happen to you. Not to let what happen? He had a frustrating feeling that he had missed something, that the solution to this puzzle was already there, right under his nose, but he just couldn't see it.
So they sat together next to the fire, and when Alistair's watch started, he joined as well. Surprised to hear Zevran talk without any lewd comments, he refused to go to sleep, when his watch ended.
"I don't know how you managed that, Air… did you hit him on the head? No? Well I want to see how long it will last," he said.
Morrigan was quite surprised to find them all awake, but she seemed quite pleased. Not that she would ever admit it. She prepared some tea; it tasted grassy and bit bitter, but quite refreshing.
"That's quite good. What is it?" asked Airam, when he took a sip.
"'Tis an old recipe of Flemeth. It helps to keep one awake, when necessary. I always prepare it for my watch."
"And you didn't think of sharing it? How can you be so selfish? Why didn't you tell us?" Alistair shook his head in disbelief.
"You never asked," she snapped.
oOo
When they finally reached the camp, it was almost dark again, and Airam was barely able to walk. So it was Alistair who had to explain everything to Zathrian's first, who was now going to become the new Keeper, while Airam went straight to Wynne. They disappeared in her tent. After a while, she came back alone, and immediately pulled him aside.
"Tell me exactly what happened there, word by word."
"And would you trust what I say? Perhaps you should ask Alistair, no?"
She frowned, crossing her arms. "Now is not time for this, Zevran. Alistair is a good lad, but I need someone who is trained to notice every detail of what is going on. I have to understand what happened, or I will not be able to help Airam."
It was true, of course, and so he described everything he remembered. Wynne gave him a lot of questions – asking about the smallest trivialities, nodding when his answers confirmed her expectations.
"I see. Poor child… Of all the… no wonder he is so shaken," she would mutter, quietly, but she refused to give him any explanations. "It is not my thing to tell," she said. "Maybe he will tell you himself, one day, if he's ready. And I believe I do not have to tell you not to ask. You are sensible enough to know it yourself."
Another frustrating truth, he had to admit. There was no point at being angry with her, so instead, he gave her his shiniest smile. "My dear Wynne! That is the second time you complimented me today! Does it mean I finally managed to charm you? Perhaps we could retreat to my tent – seeing as yours is occupied now –"
"Oh dear Maker," she sighed. "I take back everything I said about you being sensible. Now, get lost, child, before I try some new spells on you. Then you will learn what it really means to be 'charmed'.
oOo
They decided to stay for the Zathrian's funeral, but to move on immediately after that. The new Keeper, Lanaya, seemed to be genuinely disappointed that they would not stay longer, but not all the elves felt like that. Sure, those that were cured when the curse ended were grateful and friendly, but some were secretly accusing them of the Zathrian's death. Lanaya explained she knew that Zathrian was involved with the curse and Airam assured them that the old Keeper died as a hero, but not everyone was convinced.
It was on the evening before their departure, when he was packing his things, when Airam came, almost skipping with joy.
"Zev! I have something for you," he said, handing him something packed in a soft cloth, squirming nervously while he unwrapped it.
"You are giving me… gloves? What for?" He asked, a bit more harshly than he intended, and immediately regretted it, when he saw how disappointed Airam looked.
"Oh… so you don't like them? They don't look right? I – I thought, perhaps… I'm sorry,"
It didn't make any sense. Look right? What could be so special – Maker's breath. He gasped."They're Dalish? They look almost exactly like those that belonged to my mother."
"Well, that was what I hoped for. So… you like them?" Airam was beaming again.
"More than that. It... means a lot to me. Thank you. But – why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you giving me a present?"
Airam looked at him as if he asked why there was the sun in the sky. "We are friends and I thought you might like it. What other reason could I have?"
"I am sorry. I do not wish to seem ungrateful... Nobody has ever given me a present, before," he admitted.
"Never?" Airam sounded appalled.
"No. Small rewards and bribes, or trophies, yes. Real presents, no. Crows forbid that, as a sentimental nonsense."
"You know, these Crows seem to suffer this terrible – what was the word? – so much more than the Dalish…"
"Boreism?" He laughed.
"That. They really destroy any fun in life, don't they? After I deal with the Archdemon, I think I'll go to exterminate them. Just warning you."
"In that case, I will gladly join you. And when we are done, I will invite you to the best fish chowder in Antiva."
"Mmm… sounds good. Can't wait. We should get rid of the pesky darkspawn quickly, then," Airam laughed. "So I'd better go pack my things, as well. See you tomorrow, Zev."
For a long time, he just sat there, caressing the gloves. He would treasure them, keep them with him forever… Finally he carefully wrapped them in the cloth again and put them in his pack.
If only it was tomorrow already.
Boreism - Zev really didn't make it up. More such lovely words can be found at Save The Words . org