Their stay in Orzammar is becoming too long. What can I say. Writing it is actually more fun than playing it. xD

Thanks to wonderful Seika for her help and comments. :)

Paragon of Drinking

He gave the boy one last, critical look. After a long discussion with Leliana, they decided that for this occasion, Airam should wear the robes he gave to him in Denerim. The leathers he wore was too plain. It wasn't very likely that people here followed new trends in mage fashions, so they wouldn't recognize that they're not just clothes. In case of any trouble, it would give Airam an advantage. Leliana also fixed his hair, despite his furious protests. The others were enjoying the show, of course. Alistair was the worst – it was really a miracle that he wasn't a glittering ice statue yet.

But it was worth it, he decided when he looked at their fearless, angry leader now. Satisfied, he gave Leliana the nod. She grinned widely, and went to call the dwarf in.

"Remember – be polite, but don't promise anything," he reminded Airam for one last time. The boy shot him the scariest, dirtiest look, but didn't have time to say anything, as the door opened and Leliana led in the dwarf.

It turned out he didn't have to worry about promising Vartag anything;keeping him alive would be quite enough. The dwarf really had a knack of making their fearless leader even angrier. He made very clear that dwarves had no need for the Grey Wardens. They had always lived with the darkspawn threat, so the Warden must understand that it would not be easy to find allies in Orzammar. But the Prince Bhelen was still willing to the Warden a huge favour and provide troops – and all the Prince asked in return was that the Warden delivered some documents to two nobles.

"And what are these documents, if I may ask?" Airam asked, still trying to be polite.

"That does not concern you, Warden," snapped Vartag haughtily. "All you have to do is to deliver them. It is easy enough task, I believe?"

"It is indeed," snapped Airam, in equally haughty tone. The temperature in the room suddenly dropped. "I'm just wondering, why is it so important to have the documents delivered by the Wardens?"

"It is not, but the Prince was willing to give you this opportunity to prove his loyalty towards him. He can't support you unless he's sure you're loyal to House Aeducan. Surely even an outsider like you understands this."

"Of course. But the problem with that is, you see, that the Wardens are not 'loyal' to any king. They have to be strictly neutral. Therefore, I cannot promise your Prince anything. Our concern is to defeat darkspawn; which House rules in one isolated dwarven city is not our concern. Surely even a dwarf must understand that?"

Oh well. I did tell him not to promise anything, didn't I? He didn't dare look at Leliana – if he did, he would probably start laughing aloud.

Vartag opened his mouth to protest, but Airam cut in. "Besides, there are two candidates for the throne, right? We will have to visit Lord Harrowmont, then. For objectivity sake, of course."

"I see." The dwarf looked at Airam with slightly more respect, and grinned. "Do as you must, Warden. I hope you will make the right choice. I would not like to see you suffer the consequences of a bad decision."

He really dares to threaten our leader, right in front of us? In front of me? Who in the Fade does this fool think he is? "That is good advice indeed," he said aloud, "so allow me to say the same thing to you and your Prince."

He half expected that Morrigan or Leliana would giggle, but they were too busy glaring at the dwarf and looking livid. Vartag finally realized what a huge mistake he had made, and quickly excused himself.

oOo

"This is going to be much more difficult than I thought," sighed Airam when the fool finally left. "One would think they would have an enormous army that can defeat the horde any day they wish. And I know they don't. I've been reading about their history for last few days, and in fact I'm not sure if there is any sense in asking for their help. They can't have more soldiers than Arl Eamon, and of course they won't be able to send all of them with us."

"I've been thinking about that myself," admitted Alistair. "And besides, even if they had an army big enough to face the horde, it wouldn't help them. Only a Grey Warden can kill the Archdemon. Duncan stressed that often enough."

Airam looked as surprised as the rest of them. "What do you mean? And more importantly, when did you intend to tell me?"

"You mean you didn't know? I thought Duncan told you!"

"You thought? When was he supposed to do it? You know very well he didn't want to tell us recruits any 'Warden secrets' before the Joining! And you might remember what happened right after the Joining! You know, the war council and the big battle?"

Airam folded his arms and gave his brother Warden one of his deadliest looks. "So what else do you think Duncan told me?"

Nobody dared to interrupt – they were too eager to listen. This was the first time that either of their Wardens talked about the Joining or the Wardens. Maybe if they remained silent, they would continue to talk about it right here? But of course, even Alistair wasn't dumb enough to fall for it.

"I guess we should have a talk. In private. So could you arrange that we're not disturbed? You know, with your assassin."

Airam quirked his brow, though he was slightly embarrassed. "With my assassin?"

"Well you're the one who kept him alive. And who spends the most time with him," muttered Alistair defensively, finally realizing what he said – to great amusement of everybody else.

"Ah, my dear Alistair. Do I sense jealousy there? If you wish to spend more time with me, it can be easily done, no? One word from you and I will gladly join you in your tent."

Leliana giggled. "But I'm sure your Warden wouldn't like that so much, no?" She winked at Airam, whose ears turned a lovely shade of pink.

"I have no idea what you're blabbering about," he snapped. "Now. If you'll excuse us. I expect Alistair has a lot of explaining to do. Gran, could you please use some of your glyphs on our room? And I think I will ask you to teach me some."

"Of course my dear."

Wynne immediately went to do as she was told, with poorly hidden satisfaction. Irritating old bat. He retreated to his room, too annoyed to listen to any more bad jokes from Morrigan or Leliana without assassinating them. Why did Leliana have to say anything? Now his War – their Warden! It wasn't as if he had any claim on the boy or anything! Now Airam would probably be too embarrassed to ask for anything. And that was very frustrating thought.

oOo

Airam didn't come for the training. Or to the dinner. Whatever it was that Alistair revealed to him, it had to be quite serious. After few hesitating moments, as the boy obviously wanted to be alone, Zevran decided to go to him after all. He loaded a tray with as much food as he could carry – this was a hungry Grey Warden, after all – he went to Airam's room. Only to find it empty. It took him a while till he found him, sitting on the roof of the inn.

"I hate this place," he said without even turning to see who was coming. "They don't have streams or ponds or at least a fountain here! Did you notice that?"

He sat down, placing the tray between them. "Yes, I already wondered where they get they water from. But they must have some sources. It is needed to brew ale."

"Always so pragmatic," complained Airam, before he turned his attention to the tray. "Is this for me? Did I miss the dinner? Why did nobody come to call me?"

"It might be because everybody thought you're too depressed by whatever Grey Warden secrets you found out and didn't want to eat. Oh, I know. Quite crazy, yes?"

"I'm never too depressed for dinner." The boy smiled, but it was a little bit forced. And he didn't comment the Grey Warden secrets at all. Zevran decided not to push it.

"I so wish it would all be solved tomorrow," said Airam after a moment of silence, still chewing on the bread. "That all the dwarves would see reason, choose a king, who would then collect an army and give it to us. And we could go back to the normal world with normal sky and normal rivers. Wouldn't it be terrific?"

"Hope always dies last. And miracles sometimes happen. I am a living proof of that, no? Though I must say, it would require a very big miracle for that to happen. But, if everything goes well tomorrow, perhaps we could be out of the town within few days."

Airam sighed. "I don't know, Zev. I have a very bad feeling about all this. Something bad is going to happen, I feel it."

"That is just hunger. Come now. Finish your dinner and then we can go sparring for a little while. It will clear your head, you will see. Yes?" He tried to sound cheerful, but he was worried – more about the strange pessimism than any dangers they could possibly face in Orzammar. He could easily protect Airam from those.

The boy gave him another unconvincing smile. What did Alistair tell him, that it shook always carefree and optimistic Airam so much?

oOo

They made quite a procession, as they walked to the Assembly. It was in the upper part of Orzammar with the preposterous name 'Diamond Quarters'. He half expected that the streets would really be covered in diamonds, but alas, it was just a plain rock, same as in the part where they stayed. In fact, it wasn't so much different. Same tall buildings with the same tall windows and same ugly ornaments. The only difference was that the most of the houses here had a coat of arms above the main door. And people. Most people here were dressed in rich clothes, heavily decorated with gemstones and gold.

"How do they move in it? It must be very stiff and uncomfortable, with all the stones," commented Airam, who was in much better mood today.

Leliana giggled. "Oh Air, you do not understand fashion at all! I assure you, these are very comfortable..."

"And they don't move much anyway," Alistair cut in. "I mean, just look at them."

It was true. All the people were just idly leaning on the doors of their mansions, or idly chatting with their neighbours or idly walking a few meters down the street and then back.

"Why are all these people wasting their time? There is much to do in this town. They should be working." Sten frowned at the nearest dwarf, who didn't care at all.

"They can't work. They're in the caste of nobles. It would be against dwarven traditions if they worked," replied Airam. Sten as usually took it literally.

"You mean they are incapacitated for work?" He asked frowning even more.

"Something like that, yes -"

"Bhelen is... a bad, bad man! Yes! Very bad!" yelled the dwarf they were passing by as loudly as his dwarven lungs allowed him. Airam almost jumped aside.

"That was... very convincing indeed. But do you have to shout that loud? Aren't you afraid? I saw a man saying something similar few days ago and the next moment he lost his head. I'd prefer not to have to see that again, you know."

Leliana giggled again. "It's his job to shout. He's one of the Orzammar criers, he cries the news. Or what people pay him to shout."

"What an interesting job. See, Sten, there are some people working here after all. Say, good man, perhaps you could help us? We're looking for the Assembly. Can you show us where it is?"

Luckily both the crier and Sten missed the sarcasm. The dwarf in fact looked proud, as if Airam really complimented him, and gladly led the way. He won't learn until his cheekiness really causes some big trouble. But as usually, he couldn't be really angry. The craziness was a part of Airam's charm, no?

The Assembly looked impressive... or would have, if there was any space to stand and admire it. Was this Antiva or Val Royeaux, or even the flea ridden Denerim, there would be a big, beautiful garden in front of it; here, there was just a narrow plazza, rimmed with lava channels. If you wanted to see more than just huge doors, you had to step to the very edge of these channels and throw your head back. Only Airam, Leliana and himself were curious enough to do that. Alistair peeked up, too, but he was too worried about what would people say. The dwarves stared at them as if they were out of their minds.

"Kadan," huffed Sten impatiently, "we should go. There will be time for that when all is done."

Airam sighed. "All right, all right. Let's go, then."

But the guards in front of the door were of a different opinion. "We are very sorry, Warden, but we cannot let you in as long as you're carrying weapons. By the orders of the Lord Steward, the weapons are strictly forbidden."

"I understand. But what now? I'm not going back all the way to the inn just to store our weapons, and then come back here again. Someone will have to stay outside and guard our weapons."

Rask barked.

"Of course you're strong enough to guard them on your own," said Airam soothingly. "I just want someone to keep you company."

"I will stay," offered Morrigan. "I have no wish to deal with these nobles and their political machinations."

"I shall stay as well," said Shale.

The rest of them piled their weapons next to Rask. Naturally, he had no intention to obey. Not completely, at least. He handed over his two daggers that he carried on his belt for everyone to see. No need to mention his six hidden knives, no? These dwarves could not be trusted. Airam and Wynne were mages and would have no problem to fight if something happened, and he was sure Leliana had some hidden weapons as well. Alistair... well. The Chantry boy was still too naïve and honest for him to expect such a thing, but perhaps he was good in fist fighting. Though he would prefer not to find out. For his little Warden's sake, he hoped everything would go smoothly.

oOo

It wasn't difficult to find the Chamber of the Assembly, where the dwarven lords held their session – it was enough to follow the shouting and curses. The Lord Steward obviously knew what he was doing when he forbid the weapons.

The dwarves were so absorbed in their argument, that they didn't even notice when they entered. It was a huge circular room, with rows of seats lining the walls, much like the fighting arena. The main difference was that here it was the spectators who were arguing, shouting and cursing at their opponents, while the single dwarf that stood in the middle looked exasperated and quite desperate. Probably the Lord Steward.

He expected Airam to announce his presence loudly and immediately, but the boy remained silent, observing what was going on. The fight was fierce but it was not about the future king. No, there was only one thing that could enrage people like this. Zevran chuckled.

"Taxes," muttered Airam. "The world is about to end, if we don't stop the Blight and they're arguing about whether they should increase taxes or not."

Wynne smiled. "Erwin would say that you just discovered the general answer to everything."

"I thought that was forty-two," chuckled Airam, but when nobody seemed to understand, he just sighed. "Never mind. Let's go introduce ourselves."

The argument had just reached its peak; one more moment and the dwarves would jump at each other and start pulling their hair. The Lord Steward tried his best to calm them down."Gentlemen, please! I have already forbidden the weapons in the Hall, must I also call for the guards to keep peace?" But nobody listened to him. The dwarf looked around the room, as if he hoped to find some help – and he noticed them, standing at the door.

"Please, calm down gentlemen! We have guests! The Grey Wardens honour us with their visit!"

That worked like a spell. All the noise immediately stopped and everyone turned to them. To their little Warden. There was a moment of silence and then Airam determinedly stepped forward.

"And I am honoured to stand in the great Assembly of dwarven deshyrs," he said. "I apologize for my interruption, but the matter I come with cannot wait. The lives of many people depend on it. As you might already know, we are facing another Blight. Therefore, I have come to the brave people of Orzammar, the old allies of the Grey Wardens. I have come, because it is time to join our forces again and defeat the evil that threatens all of us. It is time to honour the promise your ancestors made when the first Archdemon was defeated."

Impressive. He couldn't help but smile. The crazy kid probably spent hours practicing this speech to perfection. And were they in any other country, it would perhaps work.

"It's about time that the darkspawn attacked you surfacers, for a change! They've bothered us long enough!" cried one of the nobles.

Airam stiffened. "They bothered you?" He walked to the middle of the room. "Allow me to explain, for I believe we are not talking about the same thing. When I say that another Blight has started, I do not mean a group of darkspawn bothering occasional travellers. I mean the horde. Tens of thousands of darkspawn. Led by the Archdemon."

The transformation of the crazy, shy kid into the determined Commander of Grey, radiating such authority that all the dwarves shut up and listened – that was something that would never cease to fascinate him.

"You say the darkspawn were bothering you. How many of you, if I may ask, has ever seen the horde? Please stand up if you did. No one? We saw it. And it was a horrible sight. Six thousand men were at Ostagar, six thousands skilled soldiers, and they didn't stand a chance."

"Bah! Surfacers can't fight!" yelled someone, and the others immediately agreed.

"Is that so? I'm a surfacer, too. And yet I've been able to defeat your fighters in the Proving arena," Airam pointed out.

"They were not real fighters! Only rookies! It means nothing!"

Airam folded his arms. "Perhaps. But that doesn't matter. The real questions are, if Fereldan falls, where do you think the darkspawn will turn? Do you think they will use boats to sail to Orlais and other countries? I would not bet on it. No, they will get there through Deep Roads. Through Orzammar. So tell me, does Orzammar have the army that can face the horde? Do you have an army that could defeat tens of thousands of darkspawn and the Archdemon, once they decide to really bother you? Do you think you can stand by yourselves?"

There was a ringing silence after Airam finished.

"We've withstood four Blights so far," said someone, but it didn't sound very convincing. "We will withstand the fifth as well."

"That might be so," replied Airam calmly. "But back then, you had an empire. Now, you are alone. Believe me. Against the horde, you won't stand for one day."

"Yes! We are alone, we always were! Where were the surfacers when the darkspawn took over our thaigs? Why didn't any Wardens come to help when we needed it?" There was a loud murmur of approval. This didn't look good.

Airam sensed it as well. "I'm not here to argue about the past. I don't care what happened, who helped or who didn't help. I only care about now, and about the future – or the lack of it, if the Blight is not stopped. Because that is the simple truth – if Ferelden falls, Orzammar will be next. And this time, it will not survive."

It still didn't convince them. Proud, stubborn fools.

"And there is one last thing you should consider. If the surface falls, so will you. But if the dwarves refuse to do their duty, as they obliged themselves in the Treaty sealed by Aeducan the Peacemaker, the king and the Paragon, and the surface nations should win, the dwarves will be branded as traitors and oath breakers. The only ones who were too cowardly to face the Blight. You will bring shame to the name of your ancestors forever. And that is not all. Now you seal your gates against surfacers. But if you break the Treaty and we win, Ferelden will seal the gate from the outside."

"You don't have the authority to do that! You're a Grey Warden, not a king of Ferelden," said another dwarf in a mocking tone. Zevran watched him with interest. The dwarf looked and sounded even more arrogant than the others; h looked like a man that was used to always get what he wanted.

"I assure you, that the Commander can get the approval of the King quite easily," said Alistair stepping forward. Leliana gave him a slight approving nod.

Airam chuckled. "And think carefully before you say that you don't need us surfacers anyway. I don't believe that barley grows underground... I hope you all love your lichen ale."

Leliana moaned quietly in despair, while Alistair fought not to laugh out lout.

"This is your fault, Zevran," hissed Leliana in his ear. His fault? There was, however, no time to discuss it. The Lord Stewart finally managed to calm the dwarves again.

"We have no intention to break the treaty and dishonour our ancestors, Grey Warden," he said, when all the shouts and protests stopped. "But just as you need the approval of the King, so do we. Unfortunately, as I am sure you know already, Orzammar has no King right now."

"I know and I fully understand how serious this matter is, Lord Stewart," said Airam with a little bow. "But I would like to ask, when do you think this situation will change? Surely it is in the best interest of Orzammar and its people to choose the king as soon as possible?"

"It shouldn't be a problem at all!" shouted the arrogant dwarf. "I am the rightful heir of the throne, the last of the Aeducan house!"

Ah. So this is the Prince Bhelen. He certainly looks like your average king – arrogant, pompous and foolish. But not all dwarves would agree with that, it seemed, and the argument started again, with more force than before. Some of the dwarves jumped out of their seats and ran to their opponents to continue discussions with fists; two of the ladies – if such word could be used for them exchanged several hard slaps. After ten minutes of useless shouting "Gentlemen, please!" the Lord Steward ran for the guards. It took another ten minutes till everyone calmed enough again. The floor was splattered by drops of blood and several teeth.

And his crazy kid was standing in the middle of chaos, obviously enjoying the show.

"As you can see, Warden it is not so simple," said the Lord Steward, breathless and hoarse. "I am afraid it will... take some time."

"But time is exactly what you don't have," said Airam patiently. "I'll say it one last time – soon, it will not matter who is the King, because the dwarven kingdom will be attacked as it was before, back in the time of the First Blight. Back then, four of your kingdoms united to fight the darkspawn back and barely managed to survive. Now, you're alone. If you don't act quickly, whoever you choose will be the last king of dwarves."

"What you say is true, but we cannot solve it by ourselves..." Lord Stewart shrugged, resigned.

"There is a solution. If any of the two candidates had a support of a Paragon, all the quarrels would have to stop. All of us would accept the word of the Paragon as a sign of our ancestors," said one of the toothless dwarves.

Airam beamed with a renewed hope. "Let's ask this Paragon, then."

"But the only Paragon we have is Branka, and she's gone," said the dwarf with a swollen eye.

"And... there can't be two Paragons at the same time?" asked Airam, still unwilling to let this new hope disappear again.

The Lord Stewart shook his head. "It is possible, but the process of choosing, approving and naming the Paragon takes years, even if there are worthy candidates. No, the only way to solve this quickly and without further... complications is to find Paragon Branka."

Once again, there was a ringing silence in the room. Airam eyed the dwarves suspiciously. "So let's find her, then. I'm willing to help, if it will speed up the things."

"Your help would be appreciated, Warden," said the Prince with a sly smile. "After all, the brave Grey Wardens that faced the horde have nothing to fear in the Deep Roads. Or am I wrong?"

All the dwarves were only too happy to agree.

oOo

It was well past noon when they finally left the Assembly and their fearless, cheeky leader was in a very bad mood. He picked his daggers without one word. They quickly returned to their inn, where Leliana informed the others in great detail about everything that happened and about their new mission. Sten was not exactly thrilled – it was another delay from the ultimate goal of slaying the Archdemon – but Shale, and even Morrigan, seemed rather interested.

"Don't tell me you're worried. I assume that normally it would be dangerous, but 'tis hardly worse than what is on the surface now," said Morrigan, when she saw the sour look at Airam's face.

"I'm not worried, just exhausted. I really hoped it worked, for a while. All those hours of memorizing their stupid history and stupid names were useless," grumbled Airam, determinedly avoiding her gaze.

Zevran chuckled. "Ah, but you were marvelous. A true Commander of the Grey!" He patted him on the shoulder and Airam gave him the weakest of smiles. "But I agree. It was rather tiresome, no? I certainly wouldn't refuse a pint of good beer. Why don't we go have some fun tonight, for a change?"

"Oh, that's a brilliant idea, Zevran! I heard that the Tapster Inn is the best. Come on, let's go and relax a bit, before we start preparing for another adventure," suggested Leliana.

That finally improved Airam's mood a little. "Yes, let's go to have some beer, while it is still available in Orzammar," joined Airam with evil grin. "Because whatever happens, Al, I want you to increase the export taxes of barley, malt and whatever else is needed to brew beer tenfold, once you're a king! And consider this an order from your Commander."

"For the Maker's sake, Air, keep your voice down! Do you want us to be slaughtered like nugs in our sleep?" Alistair looked around in mock fear.

When they went to the inn that evening, the mood was much better – partially also because Wynne decided to spend their way in a more useful way.

"A round of the best beer for everyone!" shouted Airam when they sat down. The dwarves greeted it with loud cheers to the Grey Wardens.

"Poor fools. Drink while you can," added Airam quietly with revengeful light in his eyes.

Leliana coughed. "Zevran. Aren't you supposed to train our Commander? I am afraid his skills in diplomacy still require a lot of work."

He laughed heartily. "Ah, is that what you meant when you said it was my fault? In that case, my dear Leliana, allow me to remind you that I train our Commander to be an assassin, not a politician."

"You're training him to be an assassin? You're joking... aren't you?"

"Not at all, my dear Chantry boy. However, let me tell you that it was the Commander's own wish."

" 'Tis foolish and useless. He could never be an assassin. He's too soft and careless for that," joined Morrigan.

"Would you all stop talking about me as if I wasn't here!" Airam frowned. "What in the world are you talking about anyway, Leliana? What is Zevran's fault?"

"I... eh... I told that to Zevran, because..."

"She means you should be more diplomatic and careful about what you say when you're facing the most powerful people in the country," he explained with a grin. "Your cheeky comments could put you, and all with you, in real danger." Like the Deep Roads. But better not to says that aloud, yes?

"I know. I'm not a politician, never will be." Airam shrugged. "Besides, isn't that what I have you for, Zev?"

"But I will not be with you always," he pointed out.

For a brief moment, there was a look of surprise at Airam's face, and also something else – hurt? Disappointment? But then he laughed softly. "I forget sometimes, that the Blight will not last forever, and that you'll leave..." his voice trailed off. He frowned at his tankard and emptied it in one breath. The maid immediately brought a new one.

"Well, I certainly hope it won't last forever! I prefer to hope will end it real soon, before it destroys the whole of Ferelden," said Alistair, completely oblivious that anything had happened, as usual. "What are you going to do once it's over?"

"I want to serve the Maker and Andraste, and help to rebuild the Temple again," said Leliana enthusiastically. "It was lost for so long! It is a place where the pilgrims could get many blessings and grace, it should be open for everyone."

"And I hoped you'd stay to help me, when I become King," said Alistair, disappointed.

"Of course I will stay, should you wish." Leliana seemed pleasantly surprised. It was the first really nice thing that Alistair told her, since her past was revealed. "But I do not think you will need my help for very long. You learn quickly."

Morrigan snorted. "Well then, I guess I will prefer to leave Ferelden. I do not think it would be safe with this Chantry fool as the King."

"And you, Sten? Will you go back to Seheron?" asked Leliana, to avoid another argument between Morrigan and Alistair.

"I wish I could, but I cannot."

Airam blinked. "Why, Stenny?

They all stared at him in shock. "What did you call him?" asked Morrigan, when her ability to speak returned again. Airam ignored her.

"Wha's wrong, my big boring friend? Tell your Warden Com...mound...mend... well, you know wha' I mean."

Leliana and Morrigan started to giggle.

"S'op laughing. You're... bad, bad girls! Yes! Very bad!" Airam tried to shake his finger at them, but it seemed he was not too sure in which direction he should point.

"You're drunk?" Alistair couldn't believe it. "But we've only been here ten minutes! We're drinking our first – oh. Right."

In front of Airam, there was not one empty tankard, but four. Zevran frowned. When did he manage to drink the third and fourth? He didn't watch him only for a moment. Brasca.

" 'mnodunk," protested Airam.

"Yes, you are. Be proud, I'm sure nobody has ever gotten drunk this fast," giggled Leliana. "You better take him back to our inn, Zev."

"Nonono – I wanna s'ay here – hey! You! Bring us more ale!"

"You shame Wardens like this, Kadan. Go. You're drunk."

"And you're ugly. Even more than I am." Airam stuck out his tongue at the Qunari, who just shook his head.

"But Zev will be sad if you don't go," said Leliana, not even trying to hide her amusement. "He has been looking forward to spending the night with you for a very long time. Weren't you, Zev?"

"Of course I did," he replied in the same merry tone, though inwardly he swore he would make Leliana pay for these jokes. And Morrigan for her giggling. At least Alistair still didn't seem to understand what was Leliana talking about. Thank the Maker for small mercies.

Airam looked at him with unfocused eyes. "I dun wanna massage," he proclaimed, which made Leliana first blink and then burst into mad laughter.

"Oh Zevran, you beast. Don't tell me you tried that!"

That made the crazy kid really angry. "Zev is no' a beas' ! You're a beas' ! He's my bes' buddy ever!"

Ignoring the renewed fits of laughter, he quickly put Airam's hand around his shoulder and helped him to get up. Followed by Morrigan's comments and Leliana's giggling, he quickly dragged the boy out of the inn, and then back to their own inn. It was not a pleasant walk, but he couldn't make himself be angry with the crazy kid. Needless to say, Wynne was disgusted and angry when she saw what sort of state Airam was in. She let him know that it was all his fault. He didn't have the strength to argue with her.

It was a great relief when they finally reached their room, and he could shut the door in her face. But there was a new problem. One of the worst he ever faced, it seemed: how to deal with drunk Airam without making them both feel embarrassed the next day. It took all his wit, and a lot of patience, but he finally convinced Airam to change his clothes and go to bed.

"Bu' you s'ay with me!" demanded Airam, when he finally tucked the blanked around him.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right next to you, yes?"

"Promise?"

"Of course."

When the crazy kid finally fell asleep, Zevran was exhausted more than after battling an ogre, but he couldn't sleep. He lay on his bed, staring into the darkness. It would be nice, he thought, if it was real. The promise. Not just drunk talk. He did not wish to go anywhere.

But he had no illusions. He knew that after the Blight, when things return back to the normal, everything will be different. He would have to leave, whether he wanted it or not. Airam could say now, and perhaps even believe it, that they were 'best buddies forever'... But Airam would be the Warden Commander, a hero of people who defended them against the darkspawn, an important and respected person. He wouldn't want someone like Zevran to drag him down. A runaway slave for the Crows, a dangerous assassin for everyone else, that was all he was, all that he would ever be.

Only to think about leaving Airam hurt. And as much as he hated the smelly monsters, he still dreaded the day when the Blight would end and his little Warden would not need him any more.

Perhaps he could offer to train the recruits for Airam. He chuckled. Airam stirred and sighed, but he didn't wake up.

Hm. Training recruits actually wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe he should really ask... But not tomorrow. Tomorrow will be funny enough anyway. Would Airam remember what happened? Leliana might be merciful and discreet... but he doubted Morrigan would be. Or Wynne. Tomorrow, the poor crazy kid would need his moral support, no?

And for now, it was enough.