Thanks to all who are still reading this story, reviewed it or put it on alert. And to those who poked me until I finished this chapter. :)

Special thanks and a tight hug to my wonderful beta Seika, for her help and encouragement. :)

Now, a brief AN to those who sent me reviews or PMs about Orzammar and/or Airam's past.

I've been writing FTF for almost two years now. In the beginning, I planned to finish it quickly, one chapter for one big quest and no sidequests at all. But it kept growing, not only in length, but also (I hope) in depth, and as it changed, so did my style. Orzammar specifically had many strong points I knew would affect Airam and Zevran (and many plotholes I wanted to fix). I tried to make it as short as possible, but I no longer try to make it short just for the sake of brevity. I don't think I could cut out anything from those chapters without harming the story in some way.

Airam's past is dark and angsty, yes. But I don't think it's darker or more angsty than the past of his companions. Zevran, Morrigan, Alistair - each of them were abused as children, too. In another ways, yes, but not necessarily in less painful way. And, with lyrium addicted Templars and mages always treated as abominations in hiding, I think that what happened to Airam's family could have easily happened to many others. Thedas is a dark and scary place...

(This AN does NOT mean that I was offended with what you said in any way, or that it wasn't appreciated. I just thought that there are probably others who think the same, but didn't say anything. :))

Crossroads

Despite the disgusting Fereldan weather, the trip back to Denerim was most pleasant. Something had changed between him and Airam after that talk. He couldn't quite name the change; it was just a feeling he had around Airam... and Airam around him. At least, he hoped so. He saw it in Airam's eyes when he looked up from his book, in his smile... But during the nights, when he played those scenes in his mind again, he was never sure of what he had seen. Maybe it was just his imagination.

If only they could travel alone! He was sure that without all those nosy, annoying fools, Airam would be more open. The old hag was especially troublesome. No matter what Airam said or did, Wynne was still convinced that the two of them were lovers–and she blamed Zevran for seducing and corrupting the naïve child. Ah, but it was fun watching Airam fuming over being treated like a child. It was true that he was only eighteen and half, but he already had gone through his Harrowing, he snapped at her during one of her lectures. It was the first time Zevran had heard him arguing with Wynne–he always happened to be near enough to overhear, coincidentally, of course–and the memory of Wynne's shocked face brightened the whole next week for him.

It was almost a pity they were so near their destination. Unless something happened, they would be in Erwin's house tomorrow evening. They would all have their own rooms and with Airam's busy agenda, Zevran would see him only during the training hour and meals. And that meant that today was the last day he could spend some time with Airam, and Andraste be damned if he wouldn't use this chance.

Airam was sitting near the fire, reading again. He sat down next to him, but Airam didn't even lift his eyes.

"Not now, Zev."

"Not what, bello mio? I just sat down."

"Yes, but I bet you wanted to distract me, and I need to learn this before tomorrow. And I told you not to call me that."

"Ah, such cruel accusations. When did I ever distract you?"

Airam snorted and finally looked up at him. "Oh, only every time you see me with a book."

"What kind of spell is it, that it's important to learn it before tomorrow, anyway?"

"It's not a spell, it's one of Erwin's journals about politics and economy and it's the most complicated, illogical, and boring thing I've ever read. So please, I know it's difficult for you, but at least try to be quiet."

Brasca. This was going to be much more difficult than he expected. Airam was clearly not in the right mood, so he just sat there, watching him quietly... well, unless you count a deep, dramatic sigh, every now and then. It didn't take long till Airam looked up at him again.

"Would you please stop staring at me like that, and sighing as if I was torturing you? Don't you have anything else to do? Why don't you play cards with Faren?" he turned to the young dwarf, who was sitting on the opposite log, frying a mushroom on a long stick.

"I'm not playing with that cheater," Faren replied with a growl.

"Tsk, tsk. You should learn to lose, my friend. I won because I'm a better player. Naturally."

"Better player my ass! There's no way you'd win eleven times in a row without cheating!"

"Eleven times?" Airam chuckled, finally putting the journal aside. "Against Faren? Impressive."

"See? Even the boss acknowledges my skills. There's no way you'd win in an honest way."

"I acknowledge your skills in cheating," Airam pointed out. "You're just as bad as Zev."

"Oh, I wouldn't say he's bad," said Zevran graciously. "Merely average. While I am the best." He beamed at Faren. "But I am willing to give him a few lessons. You could join us and be our judge-"

"Not interested," Faren cut in. "I have better things to do than waste my time with you."

Zevran didn't miss the look he shot at Dagna, who was chatting merrily with Wynne. Oh ho! That promised a lot of fun... later. Now he had other plans. "Yes, yes. Ignore me! Just like everyone else. I am a cheater and an assassin and a seducer, best not to have anything to do with me, yes?"

Airam rolled his eyes. "You are true martyr, more than Andraste herself. What's her burning alive to my horrendous demand that you'd be quiet for a moment? Hm... I have an idea. Wait here."

Amused, he watched Airam walking over to the Bodahn's cart. What did the crazy kid want to do now? Whatever it was, it had separated him from the journal, so it had to be a good thing, yes?

"Here." Airam tossed something into his hands, when he returned. "It's supposed to be a new bestseller by a very famous author. Bodahn says it's the raciest book he's ever stored, so you should like it."

"Enchanting the Iron Maiden. A true love story of the Knight Commander Merrylith and the First Enchanter Orlando." Zevran lifted his brow. "A new bestseller? I didn't know Bodahn was now a specialist on modern literature. Since when does he store books?"

"I... well, I asked him to keep his eyes open for new books," Airam admitted, the tips of his ears turning a lovely shade of pink. "He got this one in Orzammar, says it was very popular among the noble ladies."

"Why would dwarven ladies read books about surfacers?"

Wynne turned to them with sudden interest. "Is it new Thetras, by any chance?"

Zevran checked the name of the author. "It is. How did you know?"

"He's the most popular current dwarf author that publishes abroad," she replied with what was probably supposed to be an indifferent shrug; but the longing in her face, as she looked at the book was too obvious.

Zevran's grin widened. Oh, this was good. First Faren, now this. And here he was afraid that the evening would be too dull.

"Ah, if Wynne recommends it, I will gladly read it," he said innocently. "Would you say it is comparable to The Rose of Orlais? I really liked that one, though some descriptions were bit overblown, no?"

Wynne stared at him with shocked disbelief. "So it was you who nicked it? And I was suspecting Leliana!"

"How could you, Zev! I'd never thought you'd do something like that!" Airam exclaimed in a disappointed voice, but the wide grin ruined the effect.

Nobody was convinced, least of all Wynne. But as usual, she didn't glare at Airam, but at him. "Your... friend has a bad influence on you, young man," she said stiffly, before turning to Dagna. "Come, my dear. We'll continue our lesson in my tent. These two are not a proper company for a young lady."

Dagna, who was watching everything with huge interest, seemed a bit disappointed, but when Wynne started to talk about magic again, she followed her without protests.

"You don't seem like a type who sneaks into the tent of an elderly lady to nick her romantic book," said Faren when they were gone, with a most annoying smirk on his face.

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises," he replied. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to read the book that our wonderful leader bought for me."

Reading the book was much more fun than he had expected, though the others apparently disagreed. After merely the sixth or seventh declamation of exceptionally racy parts, they all fled to their tents. Airam was the only one who stayed–he had the first watch. Zevran's would be right after that, as always. The others were so used to it by now that they automatically set their watch together.

"Are you going to torture me it with the whole evening?" Airam asked after a while.

Zevran chuckled. "I would, but I get the feeling that you'd soon lose your patience and freeze me, so I'll stop now."

"Wise decision," Airam agreed with a smile. "And Zev. Thanks for not ratting on me to Wynne."

"You're welcome. But you had to be really desperate, to sneak into the lion's den just to nick a book."

"I didn't sneak anywhere! She forgot it near the fire one evening. I just, uh, forgot to mention I found it. But I'm sure she wouldn't believe me, and I've had enough of her lectures for a while. So thanks. I owe you."

"Oh? That sounds good. I'll hold you to that."

"All right. But now, please, I really need to study."

"Right now you need to guard the camp, no?"

"I have an idea. You want me to stop reading and talk with you, right? Then why don't you help me? Start by doing rounds, a dozen or so, and checking all the traps and glyphs. If you walk very slowly, I might be done while you're back." Airam smiled, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Yes, there was definitely an understanding between them.

oOo

In Denerim things started much better than he expected: Erwin didn't have enough spare rooms for all of them, so they had to sleep by two. There was a moment of confusion, when servants took his luggage into Sten's room, and he earned few suspicious glares when Sten informed Erwin, in his dry way, that Zevran and the commander were sleeping together now... In short, it was perfect.

And as they sat in Erwin's lovely lounge, dressed in clean, comfortable clothes that smelled of flowers and sipping most delicious red wine from Rivain, the Blight seemed distant and unreal. He told them all the new gossip about nobles and politics–but nobody paid much attention. Zevran hid his grin with another sip of wine. Poor Erwin. It had to be frustrating, working so hard to help the Wardens, who didn't care at all. But after all they had gone through... so what if Loghain dined with some silly Bann? Let the fools enjoy their lives... for a little bit longer. He had it coming, anyway. Or that the First Warden still didn't reply to any of half dozen letters Erwin had sent him in the name of the Ferelden Wardens. They were doing fine without him, no?

"You should also know, Your Highness, that I arranged the transfer of Lady Goldanna and her children to safety," Erwin calmly continued. "She was under Loghain's supervision, and I didn't want to risk the chance that he would capture her and use her against you. She's staying with Bann Delton."

"I never even thought about that," Alistair admitted, embarrassed. "Maker, I don't know what I'd do if they were hurt because of me! Thank you, Erwin. I owe you."

Airam frowned. "Erwin. Are you in danger, for helping me?" he asked softly, staring at his friend. "I don't-"

"-have to worry," Erwin cut in, with a grin. "Loghain knows about me, but he thinks I'm just Arl Eamon's puppet. And he's not ready to face Arl Eamon yet. The Guerrins have strong support among the nobles, and Loghain doesn't want to escalate things until he's sure of his victory. And I don't intend to wait here until then. When you leave for Redcliffe, I will join you. And we should leave as soon as possible! You realize it's been months since I saw Daria? I want to be with her, when the baby comes!"

"Then we can go in a few days," Airam said, though he was still frowning at his friend. "We don't have much to do. We need to deal with Marjolaine–you got my message?"

"Yes. Lady Laurine La Tremoille is the guest of the Arl Bryland. It won't be easy to get to her."

Leliana snorted. "She, La Tremoille? How ridiculous. Why not the Empress herself?"

"Better think how we'll get to her," Airam pointed out.

"No need to worry. Zev and I can easily take care of that... if Zev agrees to help, of course."

"Anything for you, my dear woman."

"Anything else?"

"Well, we need to ask the Chantry if they can send someone to Orzammar–I think you should do that, Leli. And... Zerlinda, could you go, too?"

Zerlinda was still anxious around humans, especially around Erwin–as if she expected that the tall man would tear down the sky and slam it on her head. When Airam turned to her, she almost jumped off her chair.

"I will do all I can to help you, Warden," she said with a nervous bow, "but–but I wouldn't like to go back to Orzammar…"

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that!" Airam assured her. "It's just that, you know, if you go too, and take little Gabrus with you, the Sisters would be more friendly and willing to help. Tell them how much brother Burkel helped when you were treated horribly because of the dwarven pagan traditions–no offence, of course, Faren, it's just the sob story for the Chantry."

"None taken, boss," Faren said with a wide grin. "I agree."

"I see his manipulation skills have further improved," said Erwin, nudging Zev in the elbow. "Your work, I assume?"

"Ah, you flatter me. No, that is entirely his own skill and effort."

"Can I go, too?" Dagna asked, full of enthusiasm. "I heard the Chantry protects the mages, I would love to–"

"No," said Airam, Erwin and Morrigan in the equally adamant tone. She hung her head, but didn't protest.

"It would be very boring for you, anyway. Instead, Jowan and Carroll can give you a tour around the city," Erwin said in milder tone.

"And Faren can go with you," Zevran added with a naughty wink to the young dwarf, who seemed quite happy with this solution.

Erwin looked around the room. "Anything else? Good. Then I say we should start tomorrow. And don't think you'll have free time, Air. There's much you need to learn–and Your Highness, as well. The real work starts now."

"What real work?" Airam sounded almost scared. "I thought all that was left was to defeat the horde and the Archdemon!"

Before Erwin could explain, Sten nodded. "That is right. We need to fight and end the Blight. The endless quarrels of nobles are not our business."

"True," Erwin agreed. "But that you gathered few allies doesn't mean you have an army. It would be different, perhaps, if they were all one race and one nation... But you have humans, Dalish, dwarves; you have mages and Templars; you have noble knights and casteless... You need to give them a proper armour and weapons, sure, but more importantly, you need to unite them and motivate them fight as one, for one goal."

Airam stared at his friend as if he had suddenly changed into a broodmother. "How in the Void am I supposed to unite and motivate soldiers?" he burst out . "What does it even mean?"

"The same way you do it with your companions."

"I never did anything like that."

"Of course you do," Leliana said with reassuring smile.

"I do? How?" he demanded.

By being your adorable crazy self. No, it wouldn't be wise to say that aloud. "By your kindness and determination. And don't sneer at me. I meant it. If you weren't a good leader, I wouldn't be following you, no?"

Airam opened his mouth, no doubt to say some cheeky retort, but Sten was faster. "I agree," he said, and that silenced all Airam's protests.

"You... do?"

"We all do," Leliana said, looking around at each of them, but nobody protested. Airam was embarrassed... but also quite pleased. He literally swelled with pride, his back straight, head tilted back–Zevran chuckled inwardly at the sight. Yes, he had grown, as a leader.

"All right, then," Airam said, "but I still don't know how I should unite the soldiers."

"Oh don't worry, we trust you to think of something," Alistair assured him, and they all laughed.

Airam sighed. "Why do I have feeling I've been tricked?"

oOo

The next few days were quite busy.

Leliana was meeting with a few of the allied noble ladies who she hoped would help to convince the Chantry. The noble ladies liked the idea, as it made them look like devoted Andrastians while costing nothing, and were quite willing to become patrons of poor heathens in Orzammar. And, just as Airam expected, a cute little dwarven baby with a tragic fate, abandoned by cruel grandparents due to pagan traditions was a huge help as well. Zerlinda soon became the main star of tea parties, and could choose from several offers for a new home. But Erwin advised her to stay with the Wardens, during the Blight–he didn't trust the nobles and was sure that once she stopped being an exotic novelty, they would abandon her.

That meant that trying to find a way how to deal Marjolaine was on Zevran. He spent several days, masked as an ordinary elven servant, sneaking around her and trying to find out any weakness, any opening they could use to get to her. But it seemed she was well aware of danger and made sure she was always accompanied by young Habren and guards. Breaking into the mansion was out of question, too–it would be too risky for the Wardens

That morning, as he watched her during the divine service in the Chantry, sitting among nobles, only one row behind the Teyrn, he suddenly realized the solution. He was proud of himself of how brilliant it was, and embarrassed that he didn't figure out something that simple much earlier. Marjolaine was an Orlesian spy, yes? And here was the man who hated anything Orlesian. Why dirty their hands, when they can let their enemies eliminate each other?

He returned to Erwin's mansion in quite a good mood. He washed out the makeup covering his tattoos and changed from servant drags–he still felt relief every time he could put them off again. Humming under his breath, he went to find Leliana and others to discuss his proposal. He had gone maybe two steps, when the butler found him, and said that the others were in the winter garden and asked him to follow. Most curious, no?

There were only Alistair, Leliana and Morrigan in there looking oddly doleful and hushed. The others were still out, but Airam should have been here. What was going on? All his inner alarms were set off–something was wrong. Where is Air?

"Airam is not here?" he asked leisurely.

"He's having a row with his visitor," Morrigan informed him.

"I think it's his father," Alistair added when he saw his questioning look. "The man is his spit image. Or vice versa. Well, you know."

Did his father survive the slaughter, somehow? And if so, why didn't he contact Airam earlier? Airam said his family was dead and Zevran didn't doubt his words. Airam wouldn't lie, not about something like this. It was suspicious–maybe even a trap–

"Where's Erwin?" he asked.

As if answering his call, the door opened and in walked Erwin and Wynne, arguing.

"That is enough from you, Wynne! I will not deny him this chance!" Erwin snapped.

"And what about Airam? Did it ever occur to you that this might hurt him?" Wynne snapped back.

"Nonsense! It's about time they met–"

" –I don't see why, Airam was quite happy without him–"

" –yeah, like you know anything about it– "

" –and the old fool obviously didn't miss him, either, or he would–"

Zevran had enough. "Basta!" he shouted. "So Airam's father survived the slaughter?" he asked, when they both furiously spun to him.

"No, he–" Erwin started, then narrowed his eyes. "Wait. How do you know about it?"

"About what? What slaughter? What are you talking about?" Alistair demanded, but no one bothered to answer.

"Airam told me. If it's not his father, who is it?"

"Airam told you? He never told anyone before. Not even Jowan," Erwin said. "Though I don't think he'd be happy to know you told everyone."

"He didn't tell us anything," Alistair protested. "And I think we have right to know-"

"No, you don't," Erwin snapped so fiercely Alistair twitched. "If he wants to tell you about his past, he will, like he told Zevran."

Wynne sighed irritably. "Airam lost his parents before he came to the Tower, Alistair. The man he's meeting now is his grandfather. And I must say again, that I disagree with this meeting!"

"But why?" asked Leliana, bewildered. "It is his family, no? I would've think you would be glad that they met."

"Normally I would," Wynne agreed, "but he is-"

"The second best mage in Ferelden!" Erwin cut in.

Zevran frowned. "I don't understand," he said. "Could you stop bitching for a moment and explain it?"

Wynne and Erwin glared at each other, then Erwin nodded. "Of course. Please forgive me, I forgot my manners for a moment. Dear Wynne, would you please sit down and have some tea?"

"Thank you," she said courtly, before sitting down. Erwin poured her a cup of tea and pushed a tray of cookies in front of her. "Please, have some cookies. Or all of them. And in the meantime, I will answer the question of my other guest."

She wanted to say something, but he ignored her. "Now then, Zevran. How much do you know about Fereldan history? Specifically, about the Rebellion against Orlais?"

"Only the basic facts," he shrugged. "Bad Orlesians occupied Ferelden–no offence, Leliana–and then Maric organized a rebellion, and after a few years he won and became a king himself, no?"

"None taken," she said with a smile. "I lived most of my life in Orlais, but my mother was Fereldan. I am proud at what King Maric managed to do. Even Orlesians consider him a hero. He fought against impossible odds, and won. Just like a romantic hero, no?"

"Yes, Maric was a great man," Erwin confirmed, smiling at Alistair. "But he didn't fight alone. There were many at his side... mages included. Four of them especially earned extra glory for themselves. After the war, when asked for a reward, all they asked for was freedom from the Tower–and King Maric granted their wish. It meant that although still under the command of the First Enchanter, they could live outside of the Tower and even have a family; as long as they stayed at the place they chose for living, they were under special protection of the king."

"Maric should have never agreed to that," Wynne said.

"Have another cookie, Wynne dear," Erwin said sweetly. "Two of the four left Ferelden a few years back, and the rumours say they went to Tevinter and became magisters. The third one is already dead–and you met his family."

"Shale's previous owner," Zevran muttered.

"Exactly. And the last one of the four was elven mage, Aadishwara Surana, Airam's grandfather."

"Adi-what?" Alistair blurted out.

"Aadishwara. It's in some ancient language and it means Supreme Being. Fits him well, too," Erwin explained with a chuckled. "He was from a family of apostates, who joined the Rebellion because he was a good patriot; it cost him his older son and a wife. After it ended, all he wanted was to return to his peaceful life in the Brecilian forest, together with his younger son. But Maric asked him to stay in Denerim, and, because he was a patriot and a loyal fool, he agreed. He regrets that decision almost every day."

Erwin shot Alistair a pointed look. "He says Maric failed him and betrayed his friendship," he said. "You see, he was as close to a court mage as Ferelden ever had. That earned him the King's favour, sure–but also many enemies. There were many people who didn't like that a mage, and an elf, to that, held such a high position. As if he ever wanted it! You see, he's much like Airam–stubborn, proud, uninhibited... and an eternal child," he chuckled fondly.

"He hated the court, intrigues and false smiles of nobles. But the real problems started when his son married–another elf mage. It was allowed by the king, but the Chantry and the Templars and their ass-kissers were against it."

"It's not that simple," Wynne protested, but Erwin ignored her.

"Sickened by all that spite, young Alim decided to move back to Surana's old house in the Brecilian forest."

"Didn't you say they were allowed to stay out of the Tower only if they stayed at one place?" Leliana asked.

"I said they were protected if they stayed in the place they chose for living," Erwin corrected her. "And, as Aadishwara pointed to Maric, he chose his house in the forest. He only stayed in Denerim because Maric invited him, he argued. Maric agreed, but the Chantry did not. They declared the young Suranas apostates. However, Maric forbade the hunt, and, for a few years, all was fine."

"So my father protected his family. Why did you say he failed them?" Alistair asked.

"Because he did. A few years after that, Maric sent him on a mission. Very important stuff, he'd go there himself, if he could, and so on and so on. And he once again obeyed his king–and never stopped blaming himself for it. Because when he returned, it was all done, and Airam was already in the Tower."

"What do you–but you said–you mean they killed them? The Templars killed them?"

"Well done, Alistair, I'm so proud of you," Zevran snapped at the shocked Chantry boy; it was about time he saw the whole ugly truth about the Templars. "But couldn't he try to get Airam out of the Tower?" he turned back to Erwin.

"He did. And that's where Maric failed him. He said he couldn't vouch for Airam, that the relationship with the Chantry was too tense and he couldn't afford to push them further than he did, things like that. And to add insult to injury, Greagoir refused to allow any exceptions in communication; he said it would be better for the boy not to be reminded of the previous life, so he could get used to a 'life of a normal mage' more easily. That were the exact words in his reply to Aadishwara and Maric. 'Life of a normal mage'. For years, he only had very little news about his grandson, when Irving sent him a letter, or if some of the mages got out of the Tower."

"Greagoir did the right thing," Wynne said. "Whatever you might think of him, it was not his fault that Airam had to stay in the Tower. The Grand Cleric in Denerim had decided that. And once it was decided, it would be much more difficult for him, if he was constantly reminded of a life he had to abandon. It may seem harsh, but he had always had Airam's best interest in mind."

Zevran had his doubts about that, but he decided not to comment it. "But Airam always speaks fondly of the First Enchanter... I would think Irving at least would be willing to..."

"Irving is a good man," Erwin agreed. "He has always been very kind to the apprentices and mages in his care, and tries to be a second father to them... but don't expect too much from him. All that freedom, glory, family... why he was shut in the Tower... who wouldn't be envious? He's still just a human, after all. And, those letters he sent, both to Air's grandpa and to me, were a risky business for him. If the Templars of the Chantry had found out, he would be in a big trouble. A repeated violation of one of the basic rules regarding mages in the Tower, by someone in such a high position... the Grand Cleric could demand the Tranquility Rite."

Zevran suddenly remembered something. "You know, when we were in the Tower, and Airam met Greagoir again, he said Airam was always as arrogant as his–but he never finished as who, because Airam stopped him. So he meant this Adi-rash-wash-whatever?"

"Aadishwara, Zevran. Yes, he probably meant him."

"And let me guess–the crazy old guy Ignacio mentioned was also him, yes?"

"Who's Ignacio?" Alistair asked.

Erwin smiled. "Yes. He was often sent to important missions, and met all kinds of guys during his travels. Including the Crows. Which doesn't mean he's a villain," he addressed the last part to Wynne, whose lips were pursed into an unattractive wiggly line. "Besides, it wasn't as if he could refuse a king's order, right?"

"But you said he was only the second best mage in Ferelden," Morrigan pointed out. "Why not send the best one?"

"Because at that time, the best mage was imprisoned in the Tower."

"You mean the First Enchanter?" Alistair asked.

Erwin smirked. "No, I mean me, of course. And if you don't believe me, just ask any of the mentors in the Tower who has the most brilliant mind ever, and they'll tell you-"

A hearty laugh made them all turn to the door. "He's such a Humble Hero, our Erwin."

For a brief moment, Zevran wasn't sure if he wasn't seeing double. Then both figures stepped from the door into the brightly lit lounge, and the illusion was gone.

But they were spit image of each other, and he could see why Alistair had thought it was Airam's father. Even for an elf, the guy was very well looking. Slightly taller than Airam, and with firmer built, but with the same dark violet hair, tied in a loose plait, leisurely hang over his left shoulder, and with many unruly strands fluttering around his face; same sparkling purple eyes, same milky white skin, and, most of all, grinning in the same cheeky way as Airam usually did.

Right now there wasn't the slightest hint of smile on Airam's face. He gave them a brief glance, then walked to one of the armchairs and sat down. "Oh, cookies," he said, "that's good, I'm quite hungry," and started chewing on one, carefully avoiding their looks.

Meanwhile his older version–Rashwash, was it?–was standing in the middle of the room, flashing brilliant white smiles all around. "You must be Airam's friends. I'm so glad to finally meet you in person."

They introduced themselves, and grandpa Rashwash tried to start conversation a few times, but with Airam still ignoring them–sans a few deadly glares, if anyone mentioned him–it always died very quickly. After a while the grandpa gave up.

"Well, then. I better go. I still have a lot of things to do, and I'm sure you're busy, too. But I hope to see you soon again. You are all invited for a dinner in my humble house, on a Friday night." He looked at Airam. "Please, come."

There was no reply and, with a last glance and silent sigh, the man was gone.

Everyone immediately started firing questions and comments at Airam. How great it was that he could meet his family! What were they talking about so long? How could he be so cold towards him? Zevran couldn't help grinning. Airam was heroically trying to ignore them, but it couldn't last long.

"Enough," burst Airam. Ah. There it is. Who will be frozen this time? It could be Wynne, for a change.

"Everyone shut up and look at my face," he ordered. Confused, they stopped talking and did as he said. "Now. Does it perhaps seem to you that I'm in a talkative mood? In a good mood? Or in a friendly mood? No? I didn't think so. So why don't you just leave me be?" He got up and with the last indignant glare, marched out of the room, pretending he didn't hear Wynne's scolding.

Zevran took the tray with cookies and the teapot. "I'll see if I can bring our dear leader back to talkative, good and friendly mood, yes?" he asked merrily.

"Yes, I think you should," say Wynne. "You are the only one he listens to, lately."

It was obviously meant as a rebuke, but Zevran decided to take it as a compliment.

oOo

Airam was lying on his bed, arms behind his head, trying hard to look relaxed and indifferent. Zevran smirked and put the cookies and tea on the table. "You said you were hungry, so I brought this for you," he said casually.

No reply.

"Or would you like to get some sleep? Shall I leave you alone?"

"Zev. Just ask it."

"Ask what, bello mio?"

"Whatever it is you want to ask me," Airam snapped. "It's something about that old fool, right?"

"Should I assassinate him?"

"No!" Airam sat up and stared at him with wide eyes. "What kind of question is that?"

That worked better than he expected. "Ah. I am glad to hear that. I do not think I would wish to assassinate someone who looks like you that much."

Airam laughed. "Maker, Zev. You almost got me there."

"I meant it, Air. If you wish him dead, it's enough to tell me–it is, after all, my area of expertise, no? If he annoys you–or if you think he had anything to do with what happened…"

"Of course not! He's my grandpa. My Dad was his son, he would never do something like that."

"No? If you say it, it is good enough for me. But I saw many grandfathers willing to kill their children, and many children who didn't want to wait for years to become heirs of their parents' property."

"I see. But grandpa didn't do anything like that. He's annoying, but selling my Dad to Templars… no, I can't imagine that. No, Zev. The only person I can blame for what happened is me."

"Actually, I wanted to talk about that–from the professional point of view, yes? If you don't mind."

"What do you mean, professional?"

Zevran sat down next to Airam. "As an assassin. See, there are a few points in your story that are not clear to me. Would you mind answering few questions? Nothing personal, I promise. Just a few… technical details, so to say. Yes?"

"All right," Airam said hesitantly. "Ask what you want, but I might not be able to answer everything."

"Fair deal. Well now, let's see… you said you ran away after the argument… but how far did you run? How long? For minutes? Hours? Would you say you went very far away from your house, or was it still relatively near?"

Airam frowned, thinking about it for a moment. "I'm not sure… but it definitely wasn't hours. I don't know! But… I don't think it was too far. Half an hour of walk, maybe."

"I see. And you said that you got out to the main road, yes? Do you mean you got out of the forest completely?"

"No, of course not! That would take days!" Airam laughed, but then his shoulders slumped, and his voice quivered, when he continued. "We lived deep in the forest, see. A few times a year Dad would go to buy few things we couldn't provide by ourselves or from the Dalish, and sometimes he'd take me with him. It always took two or three weeks, till we got back."

"So what was that 'main road' you mentioned?"

"It was the road the Dalish used with their aravels. Sometimes I'd hide myself in trees and watch them pass, in the long, colourful line, it was so pretty. Mel, she... she also..." he blinked and turned away.

Zevran patiently waited till Airam calmed down a bit. "One last question, bello mio, yes?" he asked. "Now, when you met the Templars..." he continued, when Airam nodded, "had they noticed you, or did you do something that attracted their attention? Like a wrong step, breaking branches under your feet, things like that. Do you remember?"

"Yes. That I remember. Very clearly. I got out on the road and I saw them coming my way."

"And was that normal occurrence, five Templars on the Dalish road, deep in the forest? Was that something that happened every day?"

Airam stared at him. "I don't know for sure, but... I think not, no. I'd never seen any there before, that's for sure. Dad showed me the Templars in the villages, so I knew what they looked like, but I'd never seen any in the forest, until that day."

"I thought so," Zevran said, and smiled. "Think about it, Air. Five Templars, deep in the forest, walking towards you–walking towards the path that led to your house."

"What are you saying, Zev?" Airam whispered.

"I think you know already, Air," he said gently. "It wasn't a coincidence. They were coming to get you–your whole family. If they hadn't caught you, it would have only taken them bit longer. Maybe for a few hours, or, in best case for a day or two. But they would have found you. What happened was not your fault. It was the fault of the Chantry, who used the opportunity to hunt your family while your grandpa was out of the way. And, probably of someone who knew where they lived and sold them out to the Templars."

Airam shook his head. "Maybe, but even so... if they didn't have me, my parents would have fought them. They surrendered, because the Templars had me as a hostage."

"Forgive me, but as an assassin I do not think it was that big difference," he said firmly. "I have no doubt that your parents were both amazing mages, but there were only two of them. And they wouldn't be able to focus solely on the Templars–they would have to protect you and your sister, too. Against five Templars, who were probably in berserk mode because of lyrium withdrawal, no better than rabid beasts out of the killing..."

He stopped when he saw the look at Airam's face. He put an arm around him, and held him as close as he dared; he could feel Airam was shivering slightly.

"I never thought of it like this before," Airam whispered.

"That's normal. It's too sensitive for you to be detached enough to see things clearly."

"It's not my fault–not fully?"

Zevran's heart ached at wary hope in Airam's voice. "It's not your fault at all."

"Do you think..." Airam paused, biting his lip. "Do you think that... he... that he would also... that he wouldn't hate me? If he found out?... Do you think he could forgive me?"

Ah. He should have known. "Your grandpa? Erwin says he's a clever guy, and that he always cared about you. I'm sure he never blamed you at all."

"But I–I helped the Templars to..."

"No you did not," he said firmly. "And if anyone dares to say so, I will assassinate them, yes?"

Finally, Airam was smiling again. "You're the best Zev, you know that?"

"Naturally," he grinned. "So. What would you like to do now? Brooding here or by yourself, or–"

"Going down for a proper dinner," Airam said. "What? You didn't think few cookies would be enough, did you?"