First of all, I apologize to everyone who sent me a review and I still didn't reply. I'm a terrible person. :(

Some of you may recognize the name of this chapter - it's also the name of the oneshot about Airam's backstory. I decided to include it here, because it is important for the future plot. But even if you've read it before, I recommend not to skip it - there are few changes, as I made it fit with the rest of the Failed to Fail.

Thanks to Seika for her help and advice! :)

Broken Toys

The evening of their return was most enjoyable. Airam enjoyed retelling all their adventures, down to the smallest detail, and he enjoyed watching Airam: eyes sparkling, wide grin, and arrogant confidence, making the Deep Roads sound like a dark pit crawling with terrible monsters, which they, of course, defeated without breaking a sweat.

"And now we should decide who will be the king," said the crazy kid after he finished, pretending not to see Alistair's impatience; it was obvious that he was burning with desire to tell an adventure of his own.

"Oh. Right," he muttered after Airam's statement.

"But not before I get a detailed report from you about what you've all been doing here," Airam added with a wide grin.

"Before he starts," said Leliana, turning to Morrigan. "Are these two fools finally together or not?"

"And why do you ask me? I am not interested in such nonsense," the witch snapped.

"Which two?" Airam asked sweetly. "Really, who are you talking about? Sten and Shale? No, I don't think so." Ignoring Leliana's amused smile, he turned to Alistair again. "Well then, I'm giving you the word."

"We destroyed the Carta," Alistair burst out, unable to hold any longer and as oblivious to what was going on as usual. But it was a good story, quite an achievement, and Zevran had to admit that Alistair had full right to be proud about it.

The Carta didn't like the Wardens' work in Dust Town–it hurt their usury business. It was an endless circle: the people thought they would only borrow a few coppers, but the interest rates were so high that before they knew it, they owed the Carta several sovereigns, which was more most of them earned during their whole lives. The Carta would take away everything that had any value, and, in the end, their very lives. They were practically slaves.

While the Wardens were just healing and giving away free food, the Carta did not care about it; but when they started to teach people how to do things themselves, that was something different. Soon, problems started: sabotages, threats, blackmailing Dusters not to participate in it. After a few days of this, Alistair was sick and tired of it all and decided they had to do something.

For Leliana and Faren, it wasn't very difficult to find out where the Carta's hideout is and to get the key. Then they convinced few of Faren's old friends to join them, and raided the hideout.

"I think we did a good job," Alistair said with poorly masked satisfaction.

"Vice-Commander was really awesome," Faren noted with a smile.

Airam quirked the brow at Alistair, whose face immediately turned crimson. "That–that was his idea, not mine!"

"And what are you?" Airam asked Faren. "Head of recruits?"

"Of course... and any other parts you'd like," he replied with a sly grin.

Zevran found that remark incredibly stupid and distasteful.

"You sound like Zev," muttered Alistair, and blinked when he noticed Zevran's furious glare. "Ugh... I... anyway, we destroyed the whole Carta, and burned all of the debentures we found."

"Now if only the new king promised to help, they would have a real chance to change their fate," added Leliana.

"All right, then," said Airam thoughtfully. "Leli, how fast you think you can make the false note from Branka? Do you think you can have it in two days?"

"Of course! I'll start working on it immediately. But what name should I write?"

"Don't write any name. Write that she leaves the decision to me. Al and Zev, you'll go to ask the two candidates for an audience for tomorrow; Faren, you'll go to the Assembly and ask for a session in two days. I don't care about their schedule. If they make any problems, tell them that if they refuse, I'll go with Branka's advice and crown a drunk monkey!"

Faren didn't seem amused. "But, Commander... I'm a casteless... perhaps someone else should-"

"No, you're not. You're with Wardens now," Airam snapped. "And I'll conscript any fool who dares to object."

In truth, Zevran agreed with Faren. It would be better not to provoke the deshyrs, not yet; but Airam obviously wanted to make a point to the dwarves, so he didn't say anything. In any case, the next few days would be fun.

oOo

He was already half asleep, when he heard Airam's anxious whispering.

"Zevran? Are you sleeping?"

"Mmnnnnno, not yet. Something wrong?"

"No, I… I just wanted apologize–it must be embarrassing for you, when everyone is putting you together with me."

"No, it's–"

"I'll tell girls to stop, don't worry."

"I'm not–"

"Good night, Zev."

"Good night," he grumbled, though he had no idea what was supposed to be good about it. Is the idea of two of us together that repulsive to him? It took him hours to fall asleep again.

oOo

Everyone knew already that the Wardens were back from the Deep Roads, and would crown a king soon. Thanks to that, both Bhelen and Harrowmont were eager to meet with the Warden Commander as soon as possible. And the Lord Steward, happy with the prospect that the whole mess would be solved so soon, called in for the session for the next morning – without the slightest remark about Faren's brand, as he reported, beaming with pride.

After some discussion, it was agreed that only the Wardens, Leliana and himself would go to stand before the deshyrs, but that everyone would go to the Assembly the next day. Better to be ready, in case the rejected candidate decided to make trouble.

The audience with Harrowmont went more or less as they expected. It was obvious he wasn't happy with what they did in the Dust Town; he repeated several times that Orzammar needed stability and a return to traditions and values that formed dwarven society. That he spoke about 'the support of Wardens in their matter', as if the Blight didn't concern him, didn't endear him to Airam, either.

That he didn't even invite them for a lunch, didn't endear him to Zevran; after a night that wasn't good at all, he spent whole morning as an errand boy and would welcome a proper meal. Oh well. Perhaps they would have better luck with Bhelen.

Bhelen did not invite them for a lunch, either, but the audience went much better. He started by giving Airam the draft of the agreement about cooperation during the Blight.

"That is a big number," noted Leliana when she saw how many soldiers he was promising. "Where do you intend to find all these men?"

He smiled, expecting the question. "I intend to recruit the casteless," he said. "It will help them," he added hastily when he saw a flash in Airam's eyes. "I'm not trying to abuse them, Warden; I merely want to give them a chance to use their potential. Any casteless that joins the army will be immediately become a member of a Warrior caste."

"Isn't the Warrior caste the second most respected, right after the nobles?" asked Airam suspiciously. "Forgive me, but I can't imagine the others would agree. I understand that the dwarven traditions-."

"To the Void with the traditions! I don't care about traditions; I make them. Do not worry, Warden Commander; I assure you the others will agree. We've ignored the casteless long enough. Orzammar needs fresh blood, and a new start. Fools like Harrowmont would rather see it ruined than changed, but I will not allow it." Bhelen looked at Airam, with a cruel glint in his eyes. "I will bring Orzammar to the new era of glory, with the help of the Wardens or without it. And I will destroy anyone who would stand in my way."

oOo

"I vote for Harrowmont," said Alistair for the twentieth time.

"He's weak," Zevran replied for the twentieth time as well. "You won't get much help from him. And the casteless will remain as they are. I vote for Bhelen."

"Have you seen that man? He's crazy! He'll murder anyone who opposes him–he practically said so, right in front of us!"

"He will do anything he must, to save his country," he snapped. "You of all people should approve of such an approach."

"You know, the argument that the Wardens do whatever it takes to stop the Blight is getting old. We're not heartless monsters! We-"

"That's enough, guys," Airam grumbled. "You're not helping. Leliana said the agreement was fair. And just because he didn't say so, we can't be sure Harrowmont won't kill his opponents. Bhelen is not a diplomat... but I think I like that, in fact. These little political games are so tiring. Besides, I don't want everything we–everything you did, Alistair–for the casteless to be ruined again."

"So you're going to make Bhelen a king? That murderer? You can't be serious!"

Airam sighed and rubbed his face. "I am. Unless you volunteer yourself, Bhelen will be the king."

oOo

There were many more dwarves in the Assembly than before; it seemed the deshyrs brought their families and all friends to watch the show. It was so crowded he expected it to burst at any moment, spilling the dwarves all over Orzammar. He quickly glanced over at Airam, but it was difficult to say if he was anxious or not. Dagna and Zerlinda were sitting somewhere in that mass too–the courtesy of Lord Stewart.

The rest of them stood next to Airam, in the middle of the hall, like some kind of a dangerous wild animal. It made him feel uncomfortable and apprehensive. He would be glad to be out of this disgusting town, once and for all.

Airam coughed, and the whispers in the hall calmed down. "Ladies and gentlemen," he begun. "The last time I stood here, I warned you about the danger of the coming Blight; and I was told that only the king can decide about sending the dwarven troops to the surface. I was asked to seek the Paragon Branka, and bring to you her recommendation about who should be the next king. And I did find her; I have her reply right here." He showed them the paper, and the dwarves gaped in awe.

"Unfortunately, she didn't give me a definite answer. She left the decision to me." A wave of rumors and protests ran through the crowd, but Airam ignored it. "Let me assure you, that this decision did not make me happy. I believe such decision should be made by your people, not by an outsider-"

"You didn't care about being an outsider when you caused havoc in the Dust Town!" someone shouted.

"Havoc? I offered help they needed, and they accepted. Correct me if I'm wrong, but according to dwarven traditions, casteless are not a part of your society. They are not even dwarves, they just look like dwarves, but they are soulless creatures, cursed by your ancestors. Or were the Shapers lying to me?" Airam paused, waiting for dwarves to calm down again.

"But I am not here to defend myself. I'm here, because there is a Blight going on. In such times, it is crucial to have a strong king, who will be a good leader and do whatever is needed to protect his country and lead it to stability and prosperity. Before I say my decision, however, I have two little requests, if I may." He turned to where Harrowmont and Bhelen were sitting.

"First, I would like both Lord Harrowmont and Prince Bhelen to promise that they will respect my decision. No more arguing and fighting. Whoever will become the king, the opponent will respect it; and vice versa, the king will not seek a revenge. I saw a beheading the first day I arrived to Orzammar–I don't want to see one on my last day as well."

Lord Harrowmont stood up and bowed, with hand on his heart. "I swear to respect the decision of the Warden Commander, and not to seek any revenge against my opponent," he declared loudly. There were cheers and boos from the public, and it took some time till they calmed down again.

During that time, Prince Bhelen watched Airam with half amused, half angry smirk. "I will respect your decision and I will not seek a revenge," he declared when everyone was quiet again, but he didn't bow, or even get up.

"Thank you," said Airam. "My second request you already know. I want you to make a public promise that you will support the Wardens in fighting darkspawn."

Lord Harrowmont stood up again and the whole scene with a promise and commotion and exasperated cries of the Lord Steward repeated. Bhelen just grinned. "I promise if the Wardens promise to help dwarves in fighting darkspawn."

"We would do that even without promise, as it is our job, but as you wish. In the name of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, I promise to help the dwarves fighting the darkspawn." Ignoring the soft chuckles of Alistair and Faren, behind his back, he stepped forward.

"As I said already, in times of a Blight it is necessary to have a leader who will be strong, and able to make difficult decisions and necessary changes. Both Lord Harrowmont and Prince Bhelen and respectable nobles, and have many qualities of a good leader-"

Zevran couldn't help snorting a little. Airam shoulders stiffened, but he continued as if he didn't hear it.

"-but, as I have to choose, I choose the man I believe will serve his people better, in this time of war. Prince Bhelen, please step forward."

The triumphant roar of Bhelen's supporters drowned out disappointed complaints and protests of Harrowmont's group. Zevran watched carefully for any sign of trouble, but Lord Harrowmont was already calming down his people, reminding them of his promise to respect the decision.

Bhelen walked over to Airam with a smug grin on his face, as if he was a ruler of the whole Thedas and not just one smelly town.

"Kneel down," said Airam. Bhelen hesitated, but when Airam didn't say anything else, he obeyed.

"Bhelen Aeducan, are you willing to make an oath?" Airam asked.

"I am," said Bhelen, now clearly surprised.

"Do you promise and swear by the Ancestors, to govern the people of Orzammar and always act in their benefit?"

"I do."

"Will you use your power to cause Law and Justice, in Mercy, to be executed in all your judgments?"

"I will."

"Then, by the power granted to me by this Assembly and Paragon , I, Airam Surana, the Commander of Grey Wardens, crown you the rightful King of Orzammar."

Leliana stepped forward with the crown, and Airam put it on the Bhelen's head. "This crown was crafted by the Paragon Caridin for you, King Bhelen. Wear it proudly."

oOo

The feast was glorious; there was always someone giving toasts to Airam or Alistair, or asking them to retell the meeting with Branka and Caridin. Only at the end of the day, when the whole Royal Palace smelled like a fermentation station, and the attention of their dwarven hosts was diminished, did they manage to get out of the Palace and return to the inn.

The next morning was very busy with packing and buying the last supplies, while Airam and Leliana went to the Palace to sign the official agreement with Bhelen. Airam returned very pleased–he met Kardol in the Palace made him agree to help the Wardens as well.

And that wasn't the only ally they got.

"Warden. You're a good guy," said Oghren, still half-drunk from the previous evening.

"Thank you, Oghren, you're a-"

"So I'm coming with you. Just thought you'd wanna know."

And nothing anyone said could make him change his mind.

oOo

They were escorted by the Lord Steward in a proper farewell ceremony, with many formal farewells, blessings, thanks and presents. It lasted more than two hours. But at least they didn't have to climb up those three hundred seventy five steps to the top. Royal guests like them were allowed to use a lift–much faster and more comfortable than climbing.

When he stepped outside, the bright light almost hurt his eyes, and the air tasted strange without any odours, too fresh and chilly. He heard a surprised gasp beside him and turned to see Dagna, looking around her with wide eyes.

He put an arm around her shoulder. "Scared?"

"Yes, but just a little bit. I always wanted to go to the surface, you see, but I couldn't imagine it, of course, and now that I'm here-"

"Don't worry," he interrupted her, knowing by now that it was the only way to stop her talking. "Now that you're here, the whole world lies open for you, with all its magic secrets."

Naturally, that started another merry torrent of babbling about magic, but he didn't care. Nodding without listening, he let the pleasant, cool wind blow his hair, feeling alive like never before.

oOo

Zevran cursed and pulled the cape tighter around him. It was no use; no matter how many layers he was wearing, the chilly wind always found a slit through which it got to his skin. This would count as a coldest winter in Antiva, but Alistair assured him it was just a beginning of autumn here and that it would get much worse. Did he really enjoy the cool wind? He must have had a brain fever at that time. He started to miss the cosiness of Orzammar.

"Oooh did you hear that, Faren?" Dagna's excited voice interrupted his sulking. "There will probably be a hailstorm tomorrow. A real hailstorm! I'm so excited!"

He glared in the direction of the squeaking little dwarf. In the week since they had left Orzammar, there was not a thing that could diminish her determined enthusiasm for everything on the surface. Zerlinda spent the whole week shut away in the Bodahn's cart, scared of the big, open space all around her; Oghren and Faren acted brave but occasionally shot furtive glances to sky, probably to check it was still in place, but Dagna was fluttering around like a butterfly fresh from its cocoon.

It was impossible to sulk properly with someone like that nearby… but it didn't make him any warmer. Where was that crazy kid with the wood? He wanted nothing more than to sit next to the fire, huddled under fur he had stolen from the werewolves; one of the best idea he had had.

Leliana was preparing meat so they could start cooking it the moment Airam and Faren returned with wood and water. When she heard his sigh, she looked up at him, smiling. "Cold again?"

"Are you offering to warm me up?"

"Me? No, I think not. Besides, if you still don't have anyone to warm you up, you can only blame yourself, no? You have been with us half year now. And we made a bet, I think, after only few days. Before we went to search for the Andraste's holy ashes, no? Don't you agree that is more than enough time to seduce one sweet, naïve boy? Especially for someone as skilled as you?"

"Oh, my dear, I admit that our little Warden proved to be a bigger challenge than I'd expected, but I have not given up just yet. I'm an eternal optimist. And I assure you that soon enough, he will invite me to his tent, and when I'm done with him, he'll never want to…"

Something in her smile made him stop abruptly. Expecting the worst, he slowly turned around. Sure enough, Airam was standing there, with arms full of fire wood. Staring at him… with tears in eyes? Oh, Zevran, you're such an idiot.

"Air, I'm–"

But the boy flinched as if he had hit him, dropped the logs and ran away into the forest. The desire to slit Leliana's throat was so strong he had to clench his fists. But she wasn't important now. He had to find Airam.

It took him almost an hour. Airam was quietly sitting under an old willow tree near a stream, hugging his knees and staring somewhere on the horizon. Face wet with tears. Zevran cursed himself again and approached him, deliberately making noise so as not to scare him.

"So how much am I worth, Zev?" he asked, his voice full of bitter disappointment. "Is it at least forty silvers? That's the price at the Pearl, no?"

"Air, I'm so, so sorry–"

"I was... I trusted you. I thought that you are different… that you're… safe."

It was worse than being stabbed into the heart. He gulped, unsure of what to say. How to fix it. Carefully, he took a step forward. "Air, please, let me explain. I didn't –"

"Explain?" Airam hissed and got up, face twisted with rage and disgust. Then he started to unlace his robe, determinedly staring in Zevran's eyes. "I think you made your point quite clear. This is what you want, then?"

"Air, no! Please, I… was just joking…"

"To take me? Bend me over and fuck my ass?" The robe fell on the ground, and Airam stepped out of it, only in his smallclothes. He pulled them off too, and for a moment, just stood there, naked and trembling. Then he turned around and bent over. "Well, what are you waiting for? Come and have your way with me."

"No! Air, please... kill me, if you wish, but don't do this…"

"This isn't to your liking? What would you like then, Zev? Oh, I know, I should suck you first, right? Or do you want to tie me up? Make me scream and cry for you? Share me? What would it be, Zev? How do you like it?" Airam's voice was almost hysterical.

Zevran felt tears pricking in his eyes when he slowly went to the robe and picked it up. Not looking at Airam's face, and ignoring the smalls–he wouldn't touch them for all gold in the world–he started to dress him. At the first touch of Zevran's hand, the boy stiffened and just stood there, silently, lifelessly, staring over Zevran's shoulder.

"Airam. I didn't mean it. I said it because I'm a Makerdamn fool, as a joke, I didn't think… I had no idea… I swear it is not like that…"

"Leave me alone, Zevran. You can even tell Leliana you won, if you wish."

He wanted to say something, but for once, his words failed him. Forcing his body to move, he turned away.

Back at camp, Leliana seemed worried when he returned without Airam, but he ignored her, only muttering that Airam was fine and that he wanted to be alone for a while. Then he went into his tent, and for the first time in twenty years, cried.

For the next three days, Airam didn't say one word to him. Or even look at him. The others noticed, of course, but he ignored their glances and inquiries. Leliana didn't say a word about what happened, either, at least not in front of the others. She came to him, the first evening, apologizing for what happened. The desire to slit her throat returned, stronger than ever. Perhaps she realized the danger, because she didn't protest when he pushed her out of his tent and didn't bother him again.

The silence was worse than any poison, filling his heart and soul with cold dread, growing stronger and stronger, until he wasn't able to feel anything else. Sometimes, he would look at Shale, cold and unmoving stone. At least that was the face he showed to others. But he knew now that it was just the mask. Cold, uncaring killer on the surface, scared and lonely in the inside. They really were similar. Both turned into hard, uncaring creatures meant only to serve their masters… Both rescued by the same boy who taught them to make choices, to feel again. Who called them friends.

And that was the only thing that mattered–that he had a friend. That someone actually considered him, the whoreson and assassin, worthy of being a friend.

For the first time in his life, there was someone who trusted him, who protected him, fought by his side, without ever asking anything for it. Someone who didn't think of him as of whore, who did not expect those "services" from him. When he offered Airam "the Antivan massage", Airam got so mad that he punched Zevran in the nose. You're not a slave, Zev. I know the Crows treated you like one, but you're not a Crow any more! You're my friend! And I won't let anyone put you down like this! That includes yourself as well! Do you understand me, Zevran? Don't let me ever hear or see you humiliating yourself like that! Never!

And now he had screwed it up and lost it all. Because of something that had become a joke long ago. Why didn't he tell Leliana that she won? That he didn't care about the stupid bet any more? But he knew why; it was because of his stupid pride. To admit defeat, in anything, was always out of the question. And it wasn't the first time it got him into trouble.

Three days now he wanted to go to the boy and apologize and explain it, but he didn't dare. And now Air came and asked him to go "collecting herbs" with him tomorrow early morning. Nobody was fooled by the pretence of course, least of all he, but nobody asked or complained. Even Alistair kept his mouth shut for once; he suspected Leliana explained to the fool that it was better not to mess with Zevran right now. As much as he was glad that these days of living nightmare would be over, he was dreading of tomorrow's morning.

Because the boy would certainly say something like, "Leave and don't return." And he would be right to do it. But… He wasn't sure if he could survive that. Not because of Crows. Because he couldn't imagine how he could live without his friend.

The sun was still not up when they left the next morning; some of the herbs had to be collected before the morning dew evaporated, Wynne explained. As if either of them cared for her herbs.

As they walked the tension between them increased. It seemed Airam was waiting for something… well, it was not so difficult to guess what. But he couldn't, he didn't dare, and it was clear that the boy was getting more and more anxious every moment that passed in silence. In the end, Airam couldn't stand it any more and turned to him.

"So–"

But he didn't finish. Instead he looked to the right and drew out his daggers. A moment later, darkspawn appeared. There were eight of them, but only genlocks. Annoying weaklings. Couldn't have chosen a worse moment to pop up. Well, at least they could serve as training dummies for Airam.

The boy pulled out his dagger from the heart of the last genlock and turned to him. And for a split second, he was sure he was the next one. They stared at each other, and then the crazy kid whispered the most unexpected, unreasonable and impossible thing he could.

"Sorry."

"What?"

"Sorry I yelled at you and… all that." Aiaram bowed his head in embarrassment, his face turning deep shade of pink.

"What?"

"It's just… the bet… I mean, he did it, too… and I, I thought…" He bit his lip, still avoiding Zevran's eyes. "You always see the worst of me."

He threw away his weapons and took Air's hands in his own. "Crazy kid, don't apologize when it was I who hurt you. I am so sorry… I shouldn't have made the stupid bet… or tell Leliana I don't care any more, I should have told her long ago…"

"You mean… you… reallymeant it, before?"

Airam tried to pull his hands from him, but he didn't let him. He had to explain it, somehow. "I will not lie to you. Yes, when we made the bet with Leliana, I really meant it. But that was when I was still a Crow, you know. But it is different now. I'm different."

"What do the Crows have to do with it?"

"Everything. Please, let me explain." He looked with disgust at the corpses at their feet. "But not here. Let's go bit further where we can sit and talk, yes?"

Airam about it for a moment, and nodded.

Silently, they walked for a few minutes till they came to a small clearing, with a steep slope at the furthest end. There they sat down.

"I'm listening."

Zevran sighed. This was going to be difficult. "Well… where should I start… Er, well, for most people, sex is something… sex is connected to emotions, yes? To what they feel towards the other person. Normally people have sex when they feel love, or at least some affection and trust to the other person, yes? But Crows… it's different. The first thing that Crow children learn is that there is no love, or trust, or friendship."

"But Crows work in teams too, no? How can they work together if they don't trust each other?"

"Ah, but that's something entirely different. Let me explain it with an example. We are team, yes? Our little party, I mean. If, let's say, Alistair was wounded, you would help him because you wouldn't want your friend to die. If we were a team of Crows, you would help him because you wouldn't want to bear the consequences for failing the mission. So it is not friendship or loyalty, but everyone thinking of their best interests that keeps the team working."

"And sex?"

"It's the same. Also in sex, there are no feelings. Only pragmatic consideration of one's interests. Precisely because sex is emotional for normal people, it makes it the perfect tool of manipulation for Crows. Not only to get to the mark; murder is not the only way to destroy someone, after all. Young Crows are carefully and thoroughly trained to use it. The training starts when they are around thirteen, and if, by some chance, they still had some emotions left at that time, after this training there are definitely none."

"They are…" Airam hesitated.

"Raped? No. Forced? Yes."

"That's the same thing."

"Perhaps. But the people who train them are most skilled in this. They know how and where to touch, how to please, how to make bodies respond in the way they want."

"Oh. I see. And then they tell them the 'body-never-lies' crap."

He had never heard such hate in Airam's voice. He looked at the boy and something cold squeezed his heart. Whoever it was I will hunt him down and make him beg for death.

"Yes. They are touched by people they don't like, that disgust them, or people they fear and hate and are told that their body likes it, that they want it, that they are nothing more than whores... There are many that cannot stand it. The constant feeling of being dirty. Shame. And guilt…"

"I know."

"But those who survive… by fifteen, they are able to seduce pretty much anyone. And they are proud about it. They are beautiful, cold and proud, walking deadly weapons. By eighteen, if they are any good, they have already killed one hundred, and seduced at least twice as many. And if they are really good, and survive till twenty five, they have a pretty good chance to become Masters themselves. By that time they will be long beyond counting; cruel and merciless just like those Masters I… they hated so much. They would get their own apprentices to… train."

Airam looked at him, then quickly averted his gaze, biting his lip; it was clear he wanted to know, but didn't want to ask.

"I was not a Master… yet. I needed one more successful mission."

Airam winced. "You…"

He shook his head. "I made my choice that first night, remember? You know, you've never told me how you knew… But you saved me, in more ways than one. I owe you so much."

"Oh?" Airam quirked his eyebrow. "And that's why you decided to use that weapon against me?"

"No! I… was just… I did not want to hurt you, but… I did not trust you, either. I was sure you would want something from me."

"Like what?"

"Well that was exactly what I could not understand. Do you understand me at all, Air? Everything I learned about life, everything I thought I left behind me so long ago… I knew I would never be able to hurt you, but I was still who I was. Things like friendship, or trust… even now, it is still new for me; I'm afraid I will never be very good at it. And back then, the very idea of trust or friendship was… totally absurd. I was sure you must have had some darker motives and that once you got what you wanted, you'd dispose of me. So I decided to… secure my survival… by becoming your lover. That was something I understood, something I was good at. I thought it would be something enjoyable and… profitable, for both of us. It was at that time that I made the stupid bet."

Airam stared at him in surprise. "Secure your survival? You thought you had to – oh, Zev," he whispered, with guilty look. "I was so blind. I never realized how difficult it must be for you… I'm sorry. Some friend I am."

"Don't say that. You, you are the best friend anyone could wish. Trying to assassinate you was the best mistake I ever made."

"But you know, Zev, it wasn't that difficult to resist you…" Airam chuckled softly. Zevran felt as if he was rescued from drowning in the last moment. Shakily, he took a deep breath.

"You're not as great as you pretend to be, are you?" Airam continued with a grin, and he replied in the same tone.

"Tch. If I really wanted to seduce you, it would have been easy, trust me."

"But you just said you did want it."

"I said I decided to do so. But, even then I… couldn't. I think I respected you too much."

Airam shook his head. "Even if you tried, you wouldn't succeed. It's… I don't think I'll ever…" He bowed his head, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry," he said gently. "But if you want to talk about it, I'm here."

"I... I don't want to bother-"

"To bother me?" He gently lifted his chin to look in his eyes. "You never bother me. It helps when you can tell it to someone you trust, it hurts less. You taught me that. You taught me that this is what friends are for. I know I'm not the most trustworthy person, but–"

"Of course I trust you. It's just–it still hurts, I can't forget, I dream about it every night, I see them in every Templar I meet, and–"

There was that cold hate in Airam's voice again, and when Zevran looked in his eyes, he saw they were once again black like death. He gently pulled Airam a bit closer and put his hand around his shoulder. For a moment they just sat like that in silence. It seemed Airam wouldn't tell him after all, but then he continued.

"My parents were apostates. We were living, my parents, me, and my little sister, deep in a forest. Not with the Dalish; only the four of us. Everything was so perfect! In the summer, we played on the forest meadow, building little houses in the trees, eating wild berries and drinking icy cold water directly from the stream. Mum would scold us that we're like little animals, but Dad would laugh and tell her to let us play, that it wouldn't hurt us. And in the winter, we would build snowmen…" Airam laughed, absorbed in the memory. "I remember the last winter I made one really huge for Mellit–my sister. And she took Mum's best fur cap and arranged them on it, and even a pair of Mum's gloves, she put them on the wooden sticks… she said it was her best friend and was really upset when Mum took it back…"

It was the first time Airam had ever talked about his family; for a moment, his eyes shone by some inner light, and he looked happy and more beautiful than ever. But the next second it was gone. Zevran felt him shivering against his arm.

"It was on my eight birthday. I was looking forward for it, see, because I thought Dad would teach me one spell… a very difficult one. In fact, it is the ultimate spell for an ice mage. Dad promised to teach me, one day, and I convinced myself it would be on my eight birthday. Maker, what a stupid child I was." Airam sighed. "Mum made me a great lunch, and a big cake, but I didn't care. I couldn't wait for it to be over, so that Dad could teach me. But when I asked him, he just laughed and said I had to be a lot bigger. In the next eight years, he promised. I was furious. I ran away into the forest. I heard them calling after me, but I didn't react. And I–I wished they were gone and that I was left alone. And now I'm here, and they're gone, dead because of my stubbornness and silliness."

"You were just a little kid, Air. Whatever happened, it wasn't your fault."

"I wasn't that little, I was eight, I should have known better! I knew about the Templars, you know. Dad explained me what they were and why they were waiting for us. I saw those five long before they saw me. I could have gotten away. But I was angry at Father... so I did it in spite. I let them see me, and talked to them. They were weird–high on lyrium, though I didn't know that then. All I knew was that they were weird and scary. But I never doubted my Dad could deal with them or anything else. And so I... I took them home."

Airam blinked away tears as he looked at him. "See now it was all my fault? They are dead, Zevran. Mum and Dad any my little sister, they're all dead because of me. I let Templars catch me, I led them directly to our hut! It was because they had me that my parents didn't fight back! They were raped, and tortured, and slaughtered, all because of me!"

He pulled the sobbing boy into his arms, trying to find words that could console him, but what could be said to that? Even among Crows, few were willing to accept contracts that required torture of marks, and even fewer would do it in front of an innocent child. So he just held him, whispering that it was not his fault, but Air did not seem to hear, just kept talking, almost feverishly. As if he wanted to get it out of himself as soon as possible.

"They… made me watch it. They said if I didn't watch, they would do it to Mellit, too. She was only four! She was there and saw it and cried and I couldn't help her, I was her big brother and I couldn't do anything, anything at all. And their leader, he just laughed and laughed all the time and reminded me that it was my fault, that I should remember it forever, that I should never forget what happens to elven sluts that forget their place. But in the end, they killed her, too. I did everything they wanted, but I couldn't save her."

Now, these guys deserved torture. Death was too quick and simple a punishment for them. I will make them suffer in pain, for years and years. I will find some poison that will make their flesh slowly rot on their bodies. He desperately wanted to say something wise, comforting, but the words didn't come, so he just held Airam tighter, until he calmed down a bit.

"Why they didn't kill me as well, I have no idea," Airam continued after a while. "They took me to the Tower and during the trip there, every night, for weeks, they… they... I don't remember coming to the tower. All I remember is that I suddenly woke up from the nightmare, shrieking, and there was a strange boy near me, looking totally terrified, but still trying to calm me. That was how I first met Jowan and if it wasn't for him, I don't think I'd be here today. I'd probably have thrown myself out of a window."

He laughed, but it was the most terrible laugh Zevran had ever heard. "And do you know what happened to those Templars, Zev? A few years later I overheard Greagoir talking to another Templar about it. Apparently my parents were rather infamous, escaping Templars for years, so for finally removing this threat, our dear Knight Commander recommended their promotion."

Zevran narrowed his eyes. The Knight Commander just got up to the top of his 'to-do' list. But there was one more mark he wanted to add there. "And… you said someone also… made a bet?"

"Yes, that… I never had many friends in the Tower. I was an elf, I looked like a freak and I screamed every night. They bullied me and laughed at me, but they did not try to hurt me. Now I think they were afraid of me… That I was tutored by the First Enchanter himself, didn't endear me to others, either. After Erwin left, I was mostly alone."

"What about Jowan?"

"He got tired of being in my shadow. And he had to suffer a lot of teasing and humiliation, because of me. In the end, it became too much and he started avoiding me. Then some three years ago, he appeared. Taranis. He was everything I wasn't. Handsome, popular, funny. He was always nice to me, and gave me a lot of small presents, said he was in love with me. Then, one day, he… forced me. I begged him to stop, but he didn't listen, just went on with that 'you-know -you-want-it' shit. And I… didn't stop him, because I didn't want… didn't want to lose him. But I didn't really enjoy it, Zev, I didn't enjoy it for one second. It made me sick. And it hurt like hell. Even so… I let him do it few more times. Because… I trusted him, I thought he really loved me. Andraste's sweet ass, how stupid I was. Then I heard him brag about it to some friend. Laughing how he won a bet. How he had 'tamed me completely'. "

"Oh Maker. And then I… I'm so sorry. "

"Don't be. You're nothing like him. You're a far better person than he could ever dream to be. And I had my revenge on him, anyway." He gave that terrible laugh again.

"You did?"

"I can be cruel if I want to, didn't I tell you? Oh, yes. Next time he even brought his friends with him. There were three of them. Said that he loved me and wanted to share my beauty with others, to make them adore me as well, something like that. But I was ready. I played along until they were naked and hard, then I paralysed them. And then I cast three spells: one, that would cause them nightmares, second, that froze them, and third, to keep them alive. Then I started to scream and when people came running, they found me hurt, shocked and unable to speak, near four ice statues in very peculiar positions. It took them three days to dispel it. Oh, Greagoir was furious. He wanted me to be tranquillized, but Irving saved me, said I did it unintentionally, in shock."

"They didn't witness against you?"

"Would you? After being an ice statue with nightmares for three days?"

"On the second thought… no, I guess not. But… you would not use something like that on me, would you?"

"Well, that's an idea isn't it. You know, I think I actually could, if I ever hear of that bet again."

"Point taken."

They remained sitting there, in silence, he with his arm wrapped around Airam and the boy resting his head on his shoulder. And it was enough.

It was past noon when they returned to camp–without a single herb picked, as Wynne pointed out, throwing suspicious glances at him. Airam just pointed at his blooded daggers.

"Sorry, Gran. We really wanted to, but we were attacked by some darkspawn."

"I… apologize. I should have noticed it. But you were not injured, were you?"

"We were, actually, both of us." Their eyes met and Airam smiled a little. "Took quite some time to clean up the wounds, didn't it, Zev? But it's all right now."

"Yes. It's all right now."

"Oh, and Leliana? I think Zev would like to say you something. Right, Zev?"

"…Right."

He watched the boy chatting and joking with the others and smiled. Crazy kid. Tamed me completely, indeed.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.