I have bad news for Airam's fans. It was inevitable, after three years of writing this story. In the last few months, I tried to delay it as much as possible, but it couldn't be pushed off forever. And so... from now on... Airam Surana is officially spoken for! :D

Big hug to my dear friend and beta ShebasDawn, for her help and encouragement (and poking to write xD). And thanks to all of you who review and favourite this story, as well as all silent readers who still follow this story and have patience with my slow writing. Thank you! Your support helps me to continue writing. :D

One of the reasons Airam was so eager to go to Ostagar, Zevran suspected, was to avoid the Oath Ceremony. This time, however, he found no support for his decision. No matter how much he tried to reason that the matter was of the highest political importance for Alistair's rule, nobody bought it. Even Erwin disagreed with him.

The ceremony was in three days, and Loghain's men were either dead or captured. Even if Airam waited for a few days, he would be at Ostagar sooner than the self-proclaimed ruler of Ferelden. Besides, the first guests would be arriving tomorrow. It wouldn't look good if the Warden Commander left the same day - they could think he was trying to avoid them.

Airam wasn't happy, but finally agreed on a compromise - he would wait until the ceremony, but leave the next morning.

"Good," Alistair said. "In that case, I can join you."

And the arguing started again.

oOo

During the next two days, there wasn't an hour without at least one carriage clattering into the yard, and soon it was impossible to go anywhere without stumbling over a noble or two. The library was swarming with groups of plump men trying to look stern, discussing Loghain's atrocious politics or catastrophic state of the country's economy. The garden was occupied by ladies with shrill voices, pretending to be interested in Orlesian fashion and pastries with unpronounceable names, and yet they always knew every word of their husbands' discussions.

But their favourite topics were Prince Alistair and the Warden Commander and the many unbelievable and exciting adventures they had encountered during their travels. If only a tenth of it was true, Airam and Alistair could rule the world, with the Archdemon as a tame pet.

So it was understandable that they had no time for ordinary mortals, yes? Under the excuse of working on the best strategy to defeat all the enemies of Ferelden and make it a prosperous and strong country again, the two had shut themselves in Alistair's study, and only joined their guests at dinners. To ensure they wouldn't miss anything, they asked the person responsible for the Warden Commander's security to closely observe and report all that was going on.

Which is why he was sitting in the study now, enjoying the best wine Ferelden could offer and delicious cookies that would turn Qunaris into drooling zombies at the command of the mighty king of Ferelden, if they ever had a chance to taste them. For the sake of the balance of power in Thedas, it was Zevran's duty to eat them all, no?

"Thank the Maker it'll be over tomorrow," Airam muttered. "I can't wait to be on the way again. How can they live like this? Eat, sleep, gossip. Talk about boreism."

Zevran could see the soon-to-be mighty king of Ferelden bristle at that. After a lot of arguing, he had agreed that he would stay in Redcliffe, but he was still bitter about it. Better to change the topic.

"You must go, yes. Give them more material for heroic tales, before they decide you are not so unique. Already there are rumours…"

"What rumours?"

"Yes, what are you talking about?"

Zevran smirked, satisfied with the curious looks on their faces. "There are rumours that those beautiful aubergine eyes of yours, Air, and your alabaster skin are not so unique, after all. There is a mysterious foreign noble, evil but sexy, who seduces innocent virgins in Denerim who apparently features the same."

Airam gaped at him. "Don't tell me-"

"One of the first victims was young Habren Bryland. She was totally crushed, poor little darling," he said, imitating the false crestfallen tone of the ladies - and watching Airam's ears slowly turn pink. Mission complete!

"You mean they think Air is sexy? Our Air?" Alistair roared with laughter. "A seducer of virgins! Air!"

Oh, this was getting better and better. Zevran's grin widened. "May I ask you, my prince, which one of our companions you consider sexy? If you don't think our Air-"

"I don't remember being yours," Airam snapped icily. "Now excuse me, but I have more important thing to do than listening to your silly blabbering."

"Like what?" Alistair demanded, but the crazy kid didn't listen; he stomped out of the room, letting the door bang behind him. "What was that about?"

Zevran wished he knew. Since when was being sexy important to Airam? The crazy kid he knew would laugh it off and agree with Alistair. But, maybe… no. No, he wouldn't dare to believe that unless he heard it from Airam's lips. He turned to Alistair, arching his brow. "Are you trying to avoid my question, Your Highness? Who do you consider sexy? The witch? Or the lovely ex-sister?"

To his satisfaction, Alistair's face turned a lovely shade of crimson. "That's - I - I think you also have more important thing to do, Zevran," he said haughtily.

"In truth? I do not." Watching Alistair's frustration as he searched for a way to throw him out was too much fun. And there were still three cookies left. All one could wish for a pleasant evening, yes?

oOo

If this were his Antiva… well, if this were Antiva, Loghain would already be assassinated, of course, and there would be no need for a secret meeting. Alistair would be sitting on his real throne and everyone who mattered at all would be present, kneeling in front of him.

If this were Orlais, then - much better comparison, yes - this meeting would be secret. Guests would arrive during the night, in carriages with crests covered, wearing ornamented masks to hide their faces, and the air would be full of mystique. Feathers and jewels on the masks and heavy dresses would increase the tension; everyone would suspect everyone else of being a bard hired by an enemy. The promises would be carefully worded, precise enough to prove their loyalty and participate in sharing the country should Alistair and the Wardens win, but vague enough to deny its importance should the tables turn.

But this was Ferelden. These people couldn't even imagine the intricate Game of Orlais, or the delicate political balance that the Crows ensured in Antiva. Fereldans believed bureaucracy and honesty - which, in their understanding, meant an honest brawl - was enough to run the country. Watching these nobles, nobody would guess that this was a secret meeting that would attempt to overthrow the current leader of the country.

Zevran's lips curled into a small smile. Naive, yes - but also oddly endearing.

The line snaked towards Alistair, seated on a makeshift throne, a pretty but rather uncomfortable looking high chair with the Theirin coat of arms on the top. Head of the family first, then other members. Simple, short and to the point - after all, this was not a coronation ceremony. This was just to assure there would be a coronation ceremony, rather than a scaffold, in their future.

Step forward. Kneel. Look very important and a little humble. Say the oath. By now, Zevran already knew it by heart: "I do swear to be faithful and bear true allegiance to His Majesty King Alistair, his heirs and successors, according to the law. So help me Maker and his Bride."

Then it's Alistair's turn. Nod. Look royal. "I, Alistair Theirin, hear and accept this oath."

Next.

For the first three times, it was interesting. After that, one would have to be Dagna not to be bored to death. At least Alistair got to say something and occasionally shift his position on the throne. The rest of them had to stand still and stare forward. Such was the price of having the privileged and honoured place to the right of the king, together with his uncles.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Airam suppressing a yawn and grinned. The king's uncles - namely, the older one - may have thought this was a privilege any elf would kill for, a thing to tell your grandchildren about before you die, but here were two elves who didn't care at all.

Thank the Maker they didn't have to stay for the party. Everyone leaving tomorrow with the Warden Commander was excused. Only nine more nobles to go. Then Alistair would say few warm words to his newly loyal subjects, and they were free to go. He already had an idea for tonight that might cheer up their Commander…

Eight more nobles to go.

Zevran sighed. Eamon cast a sideways glance at him, clearly annoyed by his impertinence. Tch. Old fool should be glad he liked Alistair enough not to ask the nobles to move faster.

oOo

Airam disappeared. In the five minutes it took Zevran to stop in his room, take out one of the amulets from the package Grandpa Rashwash had left him and go to Airam's room, the crazy kid had vanished without a trace. Finally, one of the elf maids remembered that he was talking to the 'scary witch-lady'.

Disappointed, Zevran headed back to his room. But there was nothing to do. All his daggers were shining like a matron's silver, as Farren used to tease him. His stock of poisons was more than complete; if he made any more, he would need Bodahn's wagon to transport them. Things for the mission they would start tomorrow were neatly packed. Anyone remotely fun was still at Alistair's party.

After staring at his ceiling for a few minutes, he got up, changed into his common leathers, and went to take Rask for a walk. It would do the mabari good to have some exercise; the kennel master was spoiling him too much. Tomorrow the mabari wouldn't run after them - they would push him and he would roll down the street, like the barrel he was resembling more and more.

Rask must have been bored as well, because he followed without a single bark of protest. They jogged to the beach behind the castle, just far enough to be deserted. For a few moments, he wished to escape the prying eyes of wannabe spies and plotters. But they weren't there for more than twenty minutes when he saw someone coming from the opposite direction. Annoyed, he called for Rask, hoping to avoid whoever it was, but the mabari ignored him. With a happy bark, he bolted away to greet the man - and there was only one person in the world that could cause this.

"Air? What are you doing here?" he asked breathlessly, when he caught up with them.

"That's my line," the crazy kid replied, with an amused grin. "I'd never guess I'd find you here, playing with Rask."

"We were not playing, we were training. I took mercy on him - just look at him, he looks like an overweight Schmooples! - No use growling, my friend, it is sad but true," he added, as he stepped away from the offended mabari. "But I was told you were with our charming Witch of the Wilds. Is there a new ice statue somewhere near the lake?"

He meant it as a joke, but Airam's face crumpled at the mention of Morrigan. "No, of course not. We had a short talk, right after the ceremony, that's true, but it didn't take more than ten minutes. After that… I wanted to think about it alone, so I went for a walk."

"Ah. Then I shall not bother you, yes? Rask needs more exercise anyway." His mind was racing, trying to figure out what could have happened, but there were other ways to find out - no need to pry, when Airam was clearly upset.

"No, please stay." Airam took his arm. "You're not bothering me. It's just that the castle, it's sometimes… too confining. Makes it difficult to think... I'm probably not making much sense, am I?"

"No, I know what you mean. I feel like that as well, sometimes," Zevran assured him. They walked in silence for a moment, Rask running in wide circles around them - and Airam was still holding his arm. It would be quite a pleasant evening, if Airam wasn't frowning, lost in thought. Whatever Morrigan had told him, it wasn't good news, that much was obvious.

"Zev…" Airam started after a moment. "If someone saved your life, and then someone else asked you to kill that person, what would you do?"

"What?" Zevran stopped. "Why are you asking me that?" Was Airam doubting his loyalty? But why?

"Because I'm not sure who to believe," Airam said. "If someone saved your life - and more than that, gave your life a purpose, a goal, set you on your road - doesn't that mean you're… allies, at least, if not friends? But, what if your friend told you it was a lie? That the person who saved you is not an ally, and only did it to use you? That in fact, this person is a monster, dangerous and evil?"

"Did Morrigan tell you that?" What did the damn witch want to achieve with that? Why wait all this time to try to slander him? And how could Airam believe it so easily, after all they had gone through together? A monster, dangerous and evil. Well, he could not argue with that - but hearing it from Airam was more than he could endure.

"I do not wish to use you for anything, Warden," he said coldly, taking a step back. "But if that is what you believe-"

Airam's eyes widened in shock. "What are you talking about?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Flemeth!"

"Flemeth?" What did Morrigan's mother have to do - ah. Andraste's ass, I'm a fool.

"Yes! Morrigan, she - she asked me to kill her mother. How in the Void did you come to the conclusion it was about you?"

"I…"

Airam gave him a knowing look. "Silly assassin. If I meant you and me, that would make me the evil monster and you the innocent victim," he pointed out with a smirk. "Of course, if you're feeling abused-"

"Ah, not nearly as much as I would wish," Zevran cut in with an embarrassed laugh.

"Careful what you wish for," Airam replied with a chuckle, then became serious again. "But really, Zev - do you think so little of me, that I'd change my mind about you, just because someone said something bad? You're the only one I really trust, the only one I-" He broke off and looked away, the tips of his ears turning pink.

Zevran's heart was beating so hard he was sure it would burst. He wanted to ask, he wanted to close the distance between them and kiss him, to end this silly game that had been going on too long - but his body refused to move.

And then the moment was gone.

"We should go. I still need to finish packing," Airam suggested.

He seemed just as disappointed as Zevran was.

oOo

An hour before dawn, the four of them were ready to go. The main goal of their mission was to sneak to Ostagar without being noticed by Loghain's spies - if all of them came, they might as well send Loghain a note announcing their departure, route, and the date of expected arrival. Besides, Airam wanted people he trusted in charge of the army.

And so it was only Zevran, Leliana, Wynne, and their fearless commander with his mabari at his heels that filed out of the castle, quietly and without any fuss, their thick grey coats blending them into the morning mist. It had been some time since Zevran had travelled like this, in a small group and always under cover; he was surprised how much it annoyed him. He had gotten used to his companions more than he had thought. Perhaps it was better that they were travelling in a small group… it would also give him more time to talk with Airam. It was about time they cleared things between them.

But somehow, there was never an opportunity for that talk. Every time he gathered the courage to go to Airam and ask, he suddenly remembered something else that needed to be done. Immediately. By the time he had finished, the chance was gone again. Funny how those things worked, no?

oOo

This area was one of the first the horde had defeated; Zevran expected it would be crawling with them. But so far, they had hardly met any darkspawn. Or any other creatures, except for a few stray cows and sheep. Starved, their bodies half-rotten with the blight, they roamed near the farms, as if they hoped their masters would return. But the villages and farms were abandoned; houses demolished, crop and pastures burned. Southeast of Ferelden was a land of ghosts.

"Do you think the horde moved on?" he asked when they set camp - hopefully the last time before their reached their destination. They could see majestic walls and towers outlined against the dusk sky a mile or so to the south as they ate their cold dinner of dried meat and travel bread. Normally Wynne would make a cauldron-full of hot herbal tea to go with it, but today they decided not to light the fire, just in case.

"Of course not," Airam replied. "When did our mission ever go smoothly? Given our luck, the bastards dug trenches in the snow and are lying in wait there, waiting to pop up like a jack in a box the moment we appear."

"And the alphas will sing pop goes the weasel?"

Airam's lips twitched. "If not, we'll play the tune for them. We do have a bard with us."

"You should take this more seriously, Airam," Wynne interrupted sternly. "We will reach the battle site tomorrow, and we still do not know what we will do."

"We do not? Why, that's easy. We'll go there, observe the situation, sneak into the camp, try to avoid darkspawn, kill any that see us, find the place the spy mentioned, take the documents and head back," Airam snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The old mage frowned, but before she could scold their leader, Leliana cut in. "That is in fact as good a plan as any," she pointed out. "We should not make any decisions until we have some idea what we will find there. I suggest going more to the north tomorrow, to avoid the swamps. Here, let me show you…" She pulled out the map from her backpack and traced the route with her finger. "See? We can skirt it, and come from the forest here-"

"That's where the horde came from," Airam muttered. "Several hours before they were expected… at least that's what Alistair said. I didn't pay much attention to such details back then; I was still hazed from my Joining earlier that evening. Only later did Alistair tell me that the horde was expected to arrive the next morning, and from other direction - more to the south. That's where our defences were strongest. I always wondered how darkspawn could change their plans. Even Sten is a better tactician than them. But, somehow they knew where to strike, how to avoid our defences, and they even broke into the signal tower… Weird, don't you think?"

"I often wondered about that myself," Wynne admitted. "But it must had been a coincidence. Loghain is a traitor, but even he wouldn't go that far."

"No," Airam agreed. "I can't imagine anyone would. And even if there were a lunatic who would want to collaborate with darkspawn, I doubt they would listen. They'd kill the man before he had a chance to speak. Still, it makes me uneasy any time I think of it… Never mind that now. Back to the plan."

"Yes. As I said, this route would help us reach the ruins undetected. It would take a few hours more, but I think it is worth the delay."

Zevran nodded. "I suggest you and I go first and scout-"

"No way I'm staying behind!" Airam glared at him in shocked anger.

"And you will not. Let me finish, yes? Leliana and I will go scout, because we can hide in shadows, disarm traps, or set new ones, if necessary; you and Wynne will follow slightly behind us, waiting for our signal to move forward. That way, if something goes wrong, you can cover us, yes? If anyone attacks us, you can freeze them, and if we get injured, you can heal us."

He could see on Airam's face how he stubbornly searched for any argument against, that, but there weren't any. "All right, then," he finally sighed in resignation.

Good, because he was determined not to let the crazy kid anywhere near the fight. The words of Airam's grandpa still haunted him; he wouldn't be at peace until the Archdemon was dead with Airam alive and well. The amulet Shwara left him was now safely around Airam's neck, but Shwara said it was just half of the solution, yes? Full of powerful magic, but still not enough to guarantee Airam would survive.

"Hey, I said I agree. Stop frowning at me like that." Airam nudged him in the ribs with a grin. "Anything else we can plan?"

"No, I think we're done," Leliana said, rolling up the map again.

"Then I will excuse myself." Wynne got up and shook the crumbs from her robe. "If we want to take a longer route, we have to break camp earlier. Goodnight. You shouldn't stay long either, Airam. We will all need our strength tomorrow."

"Of course, Gran. Goodnight," Airam replied seriously; but the moment the old mage was in her tent, he sighed. "I wish I could fall asleep on command like that," he muttered softly.

"Should Leliana sing you a lullaby?" Zevran suggested.

The bard rolled her eyes. "You are horrible, Zevran. How can you-"

"That's actually a good idea," Airam cut in enthusiastically. "Come on, Leli - just a short song… not too loud, so we don't alert the… uh, nearby enemies?"

"Alright," she said with a smug smile that belied the resigned tone of her voice. "But Zevran must sing something as well. I am sure he knows many Antivan songs, right, Zevran?"

"Oh, I do know many songs… what I do not know, is how to sing," he admitted with an embarrassed chuckle.

"Then you can recite them," Airam decided. "Go on," he said, before Zevran could protest.

Leliana got up. The song wasn't one of the Orlesian ballads she usually sung, but a beautiful song in the Elvhen language. The bard's soft voice, little more than a whisper, gave it an air of mystique. The whole world around them seemed to still and listen, and even after it ended, they just sat in silence for a moment, unwilling to break the charm.

Finally, Airam shifted and looked at Leliana. "That was beautiful. Thanks, Leli."

"You are very welcome. It is an old hymn the elves sang when one of their Elders decided to go to sleep. But it is not only about sorrow. It also sings of the joy of living, of being able to love."

"Ah, love," Zevran said with a chuckle. "My poem is about love as well, although from a slightly different point-of-view. I am not sure if it is a traditional song. I heard it from one of my marks. Let me see if I remember it…" He stood up, bowed to Airam and cleared his throat.

"The symphony I see in Thee,

it whispers songs to me.

Songs of hot breath upon my neck,

songs of soft grunts by my head,

songs of hands on muscled back,

songs of Thee, come to my bed."

"As I said, you're horrible, Zevran," Leliana said, rolling her eyes.

"What was that?" Airam demanded. "Grunts? Who in the Void makes poems about grunts?!"

"It is sex poetry, of course. Very popular where I come from. I admit that it is not the highest quality, but it serves its purpose, yes?"

"And what purpose would that be? No, wait. I don't want to know." Airam's ears were pink again. "Alright, then. I think we should follow Gran's example, before we ruin the experience of Leli's song even more. Goodnight."

Leliana watched the boy go. "I don't understand you, Zevran. You love him, do you not? Yet sometimes it seems you're doing all you can to chase him away." When he didn't reply, she left as well.

Zevran stared into the darkness, thinking about what she said, trying to figure out if it was true. But the only conclusion he came to was that he didn't understand himself, either.

oOo

The horde had moved on, it seemed, but the Ostagar ruins were far from abandoned. And for the four of them, three hundred or three thousand didn't make much difference - if they were discovered, they would be dead within a few minutes either way.

So far, they had been able to creep between the ruins, hiding in their shadows; but now they had to pass right through the darkspawn camp, with nowhere to hide from the patrolling guards. Zevran frowned. Normally a few genlocks like this wouldn't be a problem, but now they couldn't afford to leave their corpses behind. He sneaked back to discuss it with the mages, but Airam didn't see it as a problem at all.

"I'm an ice mage, Zev," he said haughtily. "You do your job, I'll do mine. If you can put them down without alerting anyone, I'll cover them in snow before you sheathe your daggers again."

Zevran wasn't sure about this at all, but what else could they do? Turning back was not an option. With a silent curse, he melted into the shadows and started sneaking towards the first guard. He turned back once, halfway through - and, surprised, he saw the track he had just made fill in with snow. Maybe they had a chance after all. With that encouraging thought, he moved forward again. The genlock's neck was waiting.

Half an hour later, all the guards were down, and there were no signs of alarm in the camp. Good. Now if they could just find the statue the spy had mentioned… somewhere near the king's tent. Yes, but where? Neither of the mages knew exactly. Wynne had never been in the king's part of the camp, and Airam only once. But it was almost a year ago. He had a general idea but any details-

Andraste's ass.

Zevran gaped at the sight that opened in front of him as he rounded the corner of another ruin.

"Zevran? What is wrong?" he heard Leliana's urgent whisper behind him.

"I think we found the king."

oOo

Mauled. Stripped down to his underwear. Propped up on a crude cross, a humiliating symbol of victory over humanity. King of Ferelden.

Despite his many injuries, his face still resembled the face of his younger brother. Wynne said magic had been used on him to prevent rotting. Leliana knelt down, her lips moving in silent prayer. Airam was violently sick. And he, he was just standing there, unable to stop staring at the body. For the first time, he fully realized what the Blight was. They needed to find those documents and get out of here. He opened his mouth to say so, when Airam stood next to him.

"We must get him down."

"We can't," he said. "If we remove him, someone will notice. We will be surrounded in a minute."

"Why would they? It's not so high - can't be more than two meters. We didn't notice it either."

Zevran sighed. Leave it to Airam to come up with the craziest possible demand. "The risk is still too high," he explained patiently. "It would take a lot of time, and we have already pushed our luck too far. Besides, what would you do with the body, hm? We can't take it with us, and there is not enough dry wood to make a pyre."

"But he's Alistair's brother, Zevran! We can't leave him there!"

"He's dead. If we take him down, we will be dead as well."

Wynne put her hand on Airam's shoulder. "I agree with Zevran, child. It isn't-"

"No!" Airam shook her hand off, his face twisted in fury. "My family is dead - dead, and left behind to rot, left for forest animals to feed on!" Wynne's eyes widened in shock, but Airam ignored her. "Zev, I beg you. Help me take him down. Please."

Zevran closed his eyes. You're the only one I really trust. It was madness, but how could he refuse? "As you wish. But only after we find the documents, yes? Leliana and I will sneak around and try to find them. You try to think about what we will do with the body."

"We'll bury him in the snow and ice," said Airam and turned to Wynne. "It's possible if you help me. Please, Gran."

"I will," she said after a while. "Let's get ready."

oOo

Leliana found the statue and the buried chest not long after and quickly stuffed everything inside it into her backpack. There was a thick envelope, and some weapons, but they had no time to inspect it. Wynne and Airam started casting, shaping the snow near the cross into big blocks. The air was crackling with magic; it was a miracle they had not been discovered yet.

At first Zevran planned to climb the cross, but the wood was too slippery; even if it hadn't been, he wouldn't be able to cut the ropes around the dead king's body and take him down with just one hand. No. They would have to cut the cross down. And for that, they would need an axe. That wouldn't be difficult to find - there were tons of weapons around, left where they dropped from the hands of fallen soldiers, darkspawn apparently not bothering with the loot. But it meant more delay, more complications.

Leliana sprinted for an axe, while he piled as many stones from the ruins to where he hoped the cross would fall. He didn't want to waste all this effort by letting the cross squish the king's body as it fell down. Of course, there was no guarantee this would work - but at least he couldn't be blamed for not trying, yes? He was an assassin, not an undertaker. In truth, if anyone else but Airam asked him to do this, the fool would join the king in death.

He glanced towards Airam and Wynne and shook his head. If he hadn't see it with his own eyes, he never would have believed it. A proper tomb, shaped like a little dome, with an opening at the bottom. It only needed a few more ice blocks at the top and it would be ready. Maybe they would survive this after all… Brasca, where was Leliana with that axe?

She sprinted back a moment later, and pressed the axe into his hands. "Hurry up," she hissed, trying to catch her breath. "There's a big group coming. They have an ogre. They'll be close enough to hear you soon."

Zevran didn't waste his breath on a reply. Thwack. Thwack. The blows of the axe against the wood thundered in his ears, increasing panic making him stronger.

Craaack! The cross swayed. The wood broke, and the whole cross fell down, shattering the stones they had piled, and stopping inches from crushing the former king into a greasy stain on the snow. Together with Leliana they cut the ropes around the arms and legs of the corpse and dragged him out. Zevran had just pushed him into the tomb, when Leliana cried out.

"They're coming!"

Airam quickly put the last block in place, closing the opening; Wynne was muttering some spell under her breath.

"Didn't you hear? They're coming! We have to run!" Zevran grabbed Airam's arm and dragged him away.

"Then follow me! We'll go to the swamps!" Airam jerked away, and bolted down the path. Wynne and Leliana followed, and he and the mabari were on the rear. But it was too late. They were discovered - and that meant all the darkspawn in the area were after them. More and more were streaming in from all directions. He could see the gate Airam wanted to reach, but they had no chance… unless someone grabbed their attention while the others ran away. He pulled out his daggers and stopped. Rask turned to him and barked, but when he didn't move, came to his side.

The darkspawn caught up with them almost instantly, but they were ready. Zevran danced away from their clumsy blow, and plunged his dagger into the chest of the nearest one. Next to him, Rask jumped at another, tearing its neck with vicious growl. But more were coming now. Did Airam reach the gate already? He didn't dare turn around and check. He needed to stay focused; the longer he lasted, the better chance Airam had.

"Zevran!"

A gush of strong cold wind whirled around the darkspawn, as the first snowflakes hit the ground. Airam's Blizzard, he realized in horror. "Airam, run! Now!" he screamed, but his voice was drowned out in the noise of a raging ice storm - and battle cries. Human battle cries. Was he already delusional? He wasn't even injured yet!

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw shapes running towards him, obscured by the snow, and heard the clang of weapons all around him. Then something hit him in the head, and darkness took him.

oOo

When Zevran opened his eyes, he was in an unfamiliar tent, lying on thick, warm furs. If this was the Beyond, it was different than he had imagined it. He tried to sit up, but someone gently pushed him back.

"Don't get up yet, silly assassin. You'll open your wound again."

"Air? You mean I'm not dead yet? How can that be?" He obediently lay back, trying to remember what had happened, but it didn't make any sense.

"It seems you have more lives than a cat." Airam laughed. "Of course, Leliana says it was Andraste who protected us. Personally I think it was more thanks to the Chasind."

"Who?"

"The Chasind. The folk that live in the Wilds. Maker, but they can fight. I must convince them to join the army. They had guards near the gate, you see - plus their mages were in the darkspawn camp, so they knew about us. Remember all the crows hopping around? Not all of them were real crows, it seems. They can shapeshift like Morrigan. When they saw us fighting, they joined in, and helped us break through. But that's all I'll say now. You need to rest."

Airam got up to leave, but Zevran grabbed his arm. "Please, stay with me. I am fine. Bit sore, but I've had worse."

"Glad to hear that," Airam said. "That means you can spend some time thinking about that stupid, insane thing you did back there. Staying behind, I mean."

"It was the only chance, and even that was tiny, to give you a chance to survive."

"I don't want to survive at the cost of your life! Why would you do that? How do you think I could live with it?" Airam's voice trembled. He turned away.

"You would live, and that's all that matters," Zevran said. "I am your bodyguard, no? How could I-"

With a curse, Airam stormed out of the tent without even looking at him.

oOo

Four days he lay in that tent, dying of boredom. Airam ignored him. Oh, he would come to help heal him, bring him food and drink, but he stubbornly kept quiet. All his tricks to make the crazy kid smile that had worked before were useless now - he would just press his lips together and glare at Zevran. The only thing he said, on the evening of the first day, was that Zevran was not his bodyguard anymore.

"Well, you can't blame him," Leliana said. She was injured as well, an arrow had hit her shoulder and reached the bone, and the surgery to remove it was quite painful. It would take days before she could even think of using her bow. But at least she was allowed to move around. "You chose the worst possible reply. When he realized you didn't follow… I don't remember ever seeing such despair on someone's face, Zevran. And when you fell… he was almost crazy with worry. He refused to move from your side until he was sure you'd be fine. And you tell him it was your duty as a bodyguard?"

"What else could I say?" he muttered, unwilling to accept she was right.

She gave him a pitying look. "Why not the truth?" she suggested. "You never seemed like a coward, Zevran. So why not the truth?"

oOo

The reason the darkspawn hadn't succeeded in cracking his skull and spilling his brain all over the snow was the superb quality of his helmet, the Chasind blacksmith said. Any other helmet would be ruined by such a blow, but this could be still fixed, although he doubted he could match the skill of whoever had made it. Zevran made a mental note to buy a bottle of the finest Antivan brandy for Wade, when they returned to Denerim. And maybe a bottle of wine for Shwara, for paying the bill.

"I am sure you will do more than fine," he said with a wink. The blacksmith was rather young, and handsome, with strong, muscled arms - and a soft spot for male elves. The Chasind were willing to heal them, but that was where their helped ended. They didn't owe anything to the Warden Commander, and saw no reason to give away their stuff for free. With the limited budget they had with them, it meant they couldn't get much beyond food and a few potions. So if the blacksmith was willing to give him a discount for a smile and a wink, he would smile and wink the whole day. No harm done, no?

At least that's how he saw it.

Airam apparently didn't agree. He walked into the smithery, just as Zevran was whispering another innuendo to the blushing young smith. The smile froze on his face. He muttered an apology, turned on his heel and ran away.

"What was that about?" the young smith laughed, but shut up when he saw looked on Zevran's face. "Oh. So that's how it is," he said, angrier with every word.

Zevran pushed the fool away, barely resisting the urge to wring his neck. He would, but finding Airam was a bigger priority right now. "I'll come for my stuff later," he called out as he bolted out of the smithery.

oOo

Airam was on the shore of a nearby pond, throwing pebbles into it as if his life depended on it. Zevran came closer, standing to the right of him, but Airam didn't acknowledge his presence in any way. For a while he just watched him, unsure what to say or where to begin. I am a coward, he thought bitterly. In the end it was Airam who lost his patience first.

"What do you want, Zevran?"

"Me? I am just admiring your technique. You must show me how you do it, that last pebble skipped halfway across the lake."

"Shouldn't you be with your new boyfriend? I'm sure he'll miss you." Airam threw another pebble, still avoiding looking at him.

"He's not my boyfriend, and you know it. I… The only one I care about is you, Air. I want to be with you."

"Why?"

Why? What kind of question was that? That wasn't the answer he wanted. He had hoped for one more along the lines of, 'That's what I want too, Zev'. "Because I like you."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why?"

Airam turned the pebble over in his hand, as if it needed thorough examination before he threw it. "You're handsome, and strong, and always so calm and witty and so bloody sexy. You can have anyone you want, a handsome guy like that smith. Why would you want someone as ugly and clumsy and immature as me?"

"This again? I like you because you're the most beautiful and adorable person I've ever met."

Airam rolled his eyes. "You don't have to… woo me like that, you know. I can't like you more than I do already, anyway." He blushed and turned away, trying to hide his embarrassment.

Grinning, Zevran turned him back and pulled him into tight hug, breathing in the faint scent of his hair and skin and listening to his heart beating wildly. "I'm not trying to woo you. It's true. If we were in Antiva, they would write odes about you."

"Yeah right, I can imagine that," snorted Airam, but he didn't try to pull away. "Something like: His hair is like a sparrow's nest, only it is violet, his skin is white, his ears are small and he is often violent."

"I must say you are quite bad at poetry," Zevran said when he finally stopped laughing.

"Look who's talking. How did it go? The symphony I see in Thee, whispers sweet songs to me…"

"Ah, but that was not really written by me, you realize. Now, if you stay silent for a while, I will make one for you, but not rhymed, all right? Hm…

If I sailed through a thousand seas

I still wouldn't find one

Deeper than your eyes.

If I climbed a thousands mountains

I still wouldn't find snow

Purer than your heart."

"I thought you'd say, 'whiter than your skin'. I would have to kill you if you did."

"I told you to stay silent, crazy kid. Now, where was I… ah, yes.

If I drank a thousand nectars

I still wouldn't taste one

Sweeter than your smile.

If I lived a thousand years

You would still remain

My only desire."

There was a moment of silence, and when Airam finally spoke, it was barely audible. "Is it true? Zevran. Is it true?"

"Yes," he said.

That kiss was the most natural thing in his life, slow and gentle and breathtaking.

"That was different than I thought," said Airam when they broke it. "Much better," he specified. "Can you do it again?"

He obliged, again, and again. And again. Who would be able to resist?