AN: I can't believe it's been almost three months since the last chapter... I want to thank you to all that still follow this story, despite my slow updates. Please know that every fave, follow and especially reviews (even if I don't reply) is a great encouragement and always make my day. I just hope you will all stay Air's fans even after this chapter... ;)

Huge thanks to my dear friend ShebasDawn, not just for doing amazing job as a beta but also for her support and encouragement. 3

The Precipice of Change

The long tufts of white hair sprouting from the old man's nose and ears were gently flapping in the breeze. Zevran watched it with disgusted fascination, secretly glad he wasn't a human. He'd bet that if he opened this man's skull, there would be no trace of brain, only more white tufts of hair. And humans dared to look down on elven ears.

Zevran suppressed a sigh, shifting on the low seat made of furs – the only Chasind-made thing that was worth anything, if you asked him. When he first found out they were in the Chasind camp, he expected they would be a sort of human Dalish. Instead, they were like a primitive version of the Crows. They were loyal only to their own tribe; alliances did not mean much and lasted only until the next conflict. Which were numerous, as the whole history of the Chasind was just an endless list of petty fights among different tribes over stolen sheep.

Even Airam had to admit that adding Chasind into their mix of an army would bring more trouble than gain. That didn't stop him from learning all there was to learn about them, which was why they were suffocating in a smelly tent – despite the cool breeze flowing in through the open flaps, it was still reeking of cabbage and onions – listening to the boring blabbering of the old chief. In truth, Zevran didn't have to be there, strictly speaking, but he hoped to find out more about Flemeth, as he explained to a smirking Leliana.

And it seemed his patience was finally rewarded.

"Does your elder know you want to meet the Witch of the Wilds?" the chief asked, not bothering to hide his disapproval.

"I am the Warden Commander," Airam reminded him. "I don't have an elder."

"Warden or whatever, you're from the Surana clan," the chief said with an impatient huff. "I don't want the irritable old fool on my neck for guiding you to the Witch of the Wild behind his back."

Airam didn't bother to hide his amusement. "Irritable old man? I guess you mean my grandpa. But we're hardly a clan. Even if we were, he's not my elder, and he doesn't decide what I do or don't do-"

"If he is your grandfather, he is your elder - doubly so, in fact," the chief cut in. "Why do you need to visit the Witch of the Wilds, anyway? She is a dangerous creature; you'd do better to give her a wide berth. I doubt even that thing-" he waved towards the amulet Airam was wearing, "could protect you against her wrath."

"She saved my life. And her daughter is my good friend," Airam muttered, wisely keeping quiet about how that daughter had asked him to kill Flemeth.

Zevran was more interested in what the chief meant by the "dangerous creature". But, the man refused to tell them anything more than that, stubbornly repeating that he didn't want any trouble with the the Surana clan's crazy elder.

oOo

"Do you still want to fight Flemeth?" Zevran asked. They had decided they needed more fresh air before they return to their tents, and headed to the lake for a short walk.

"I never wanted to fight her. She saved my life. It feels wrong. But, if what Morri said is true, how can I ignore it?" He frowned. "Next time someone gives me a vague, cryptic warning I swear I'll freeze them."

"Including your grandpa?"

"Especially my grandpa!"

They laughed, and Zevran used the chance to wrap his arm around Airam's waist. He still couldn't get used to the fact that they were truly together. "You would risk the wrath of the mighty Surana clan?"

"Very mighty, yes. One elderly couple, me, and three kids… I wonder though, how the chief found out. It's supposed to be a secret, that's why grandpa moved to Rivain."

"Kids?"

"Yes, my grandpa remarried - shortly before my Dad married. With a Rivaini Seer. My Dad wasn't impressed, as you can imagine. He was always careful not to say anything bad in front of me and Mellit, and it was only much later that I understood some of his comments were sarcastic - like, how great it is to have a brother the same age as your son." Airam chuckled. "Actually, he's a year and half younger than me. I met him only once, when he was four or five, Grandpa came to visit us and brought him, too. His wife didn't come, she was pregnant again."

Zevran quickly did some math – grandpa Rashwash had to have been his mid fifties when he fathered those kids. Impressive. "Ah, your grandpa is a truly wise man who knows how to enjoy the beautiful things in life," he said with a smirk.

"Yes…" Airam replied, not really listening. He stopped at the bank, where some kids had built a tiny snowman; there wasn't enough snow yet, and it was dirty and full of blades of grass sticking out. Airam laughed "I… sometimes, I imagine what it would be like, if my Dad had listened to grandpa and moved to Rivain as well… all of them alive… how different everything would be."

Zevran hummed. Of course it would have been best for Airam, and he wished Airam would have had a happy, Templar-free childhood, but…If that happened, what would happened to him? He wrapped his arms around the other elf possessively. "Everything would be different, yes," he said quietly.

"I'm sure we would've met," Airam said, turning his head to give him a little kiss on the cheek. "Grandpa said he often travels to Antiva, and he even had some business with the Crows. Maybe we would've met even sooner, in fact. I'm sure you'd love my family."

Of that, he had no doubts. But what would Airam's family think of him? He was no better than that silly thing the kids had thrown together – a pile of dirt under a thin veneer of respectability. Only this crazy kid could believe in someone like him – and it was only because of this crazy kid that he could become more than he was made to be. He hugged Airam tighter, placing a light kiss on his hair.

"And I'm sure they'd love you," Airam continued, as if he could hear Zevran's thoughts. "Mellit would adore you – she'd trail your every step, you wouldn't be able to get rid... of her..." Airam's voice wavered like always when he talked about his sister. "Look at me, getting so sentimental," he muttered with a forced little laugh and pulled away from Zevran. "We should return."

Should he tell Airam he was on the trail of those Templars? Zevran hesitated. He had given the list to Faren, only explaining that the five men the enemies of the Warden Commander, possibly in Redcliffe, and needed to be found and arrested. The devoted dwarf needed no more. If what Greagoir said was true, they would be in the castle dungeons by now. But what if Faren couldn't find them? And would Airam even want it? No, better to wait until they were back, and maybe even until Airam's Grandpa was there. It was his family as well, after all.

"A copper for your thoughts," Airam said, interrupting his reverie. "You look so grim. I'm sorry if my rambling upset you-"

Zevran cupped Airam's face and kissed him. What was, what could have been – none of that mattered. Right here and now, with Airam in his arms, was all he ever dreamed of. It still shocked him every time, that he was allowed to hold his mage and kiss him; he suspected it always would.

oOo

The frozen ground creaked under his boot; Zevran paused warily for a moment before continuing. As much as he hated the cold, he was grateful for it now. Good thing Morrigan hadn't decided to commit matricide during summer. This was unpleasant enough without mud and tainted mosquitoes.

Zevran shot a longing glance at Airam, walking a few steps ahead. This would be so much more bearable if he could talk and joke with his crazy mage. But ever since they had left the Chasind camp, Airam had been oddly quiet and anxious. Whatever it was that was worrying him, however, he obviously didn't want to talk about it. Maybe he was remembering his previous visits to Flemeth, trying to decide what to do.

Wynne brushed away the old chief's warnings as nothing more than folktales, most likely spread and supported by Flemeth herself. What better protection for an apostate than pretending to be a legendary Witch of the Wilds? But Zevran wasn't so certain. Primitive Chasind could be fooled, yes – but Airam's grandpa wouldn't buy it. And there we so many things that didn't fit. For example, how did Flemeth save Airam and Alistair from the Tower?

"Morrigan joked that her mother turned into a giant bird and flew away with us, one in each talon," Air said when he asked, and shrugged. "Apostates often have spells they invented or adjusted, or inherited from their ancestors, and they don't like to share it with others."

Zevran didn't find that a satisfying answer. Morrigan had also claimed, according to Airam, that 'her mother's magic kept the darkspawn away'. What kind of magic could do that? If it was that simple, if such magic existed, wouldn't Wardens have learned it long ago?

Dangerous creature...

She flew away with us.

He stopped, his legs suddenly too weak to carry him. "Airam," he said weakly. "Air!"

Airam was immediately at his side. "Something wrong? You look as if you saw a ghost."

"I know who betrayed you at Ostagar."

oOo

The sun was already setting, and they were starting to look for a place to camp, when Airam pointed to a greenish dome poking out from the frozen swamp.

"I remember that! That's where I accidentally summoned Gazareth... long story, that," he said, when he saw Wynne's stern glance. "Anyway, Flemeth's hut is not far from here. Those ruins over there, on the other side, are where we met Morrigan the first time, when she took us to her mother. It took about one hour to get there, if I remember correctly."

"I think we should camp outside tonight anyway. It would be impolite to bother the old lady this late, yes?" Zevran ignored Leliana's giggle and Wynne's half-annoyed, half-amused smirk. He had enough of those two for today.

Even if Flemeth was able to shapeshift to a dragon, which was rather unlikely according to Wynne, it wouldn't give her power over darkspawn. She'd have to be an Archdemon for that. And both ladies found the very idea extremely amusing. Airam supported him, though Zevran suspected it was more due to loyalty than because of his arguments.

They camped near the dome. Wynne prepared a quick, cold dinner, which they ate in tense silence; Zevran was relieved when he could retreat to his tent. He had barely had time to remove his armour when the flaps opened and Airam peeked in.

"Zev? May I come in?"

"You don't have to ask that, bello mio," he replied, his mood improving immediately. But Airam didn't smile; he entered the tent, looking around sheepishly as if he had never been inside. Is he having second thoughts about us? "Will you tell me now what has been worrying you the whole day?"

"Nothing is worrying me." Airam looked everywhere except at him. "I just – I thought – we could – I mean, if you still want to..."

He blinked in confusion. Then it dawned on him what his crazy mage was talking about. With a chuckle, he pulled Airam into a hug and placed a light kiss on his lips. "Ah, I see. This is where I punch your nose, yes?"

"That was different!" Airam's ears turned pink. "You deserved that. But, we're together now. And – well, I thought you wanted to, but if not, of course I won't-"

Zevran shut him up with another kiss. "I forget sometimes how impossible you are," he said when they broke it. "'If I want to?' That, my dear Air, is one thing you never need to doubt."

"But you've just rejected me," Airam muttered.

"Because I do not want it like this. I am not that cazzo from the Tower – I don't wish you to do it out of obligation, because we're together."

"I never even thought of him," Airam said, surprised. "But I've been listening to your banter and flirting with the others for almost a year… Forgive me if I was wrong, but I thought it was important to you," he teased.

"Of course it is." Zevran purred and leaned to whisper in Airam's ear. "And it will be important for you too, I promise. But, we don't have to rush it, yes? Our first time will not be in a small, uncomfortable tent. It will be in a big, soft bed with silk linens in a castle. We will have a romantic dinner, just the two of us. Then we will take a bath together, with scent oils... and I'll give you a massage. And then I'll show you heaven on earth and make you scream in pleasure." He licked the tip of Airam's ear, which made him squeak in surprise. "What say you, hm?"

Airam's face was the loveliest shade of red, but he looked relieved. "I say it sounds great," he said with an awkward little cough, and pulled away. "Alright, then. I should leave you to rest. Goodnight-"

"Oh, I don't think so. You don't enter a lion's den and then just walk out whenever you please," Zevran said with a feral grin, pulling him right back. "Sleep with me tonight. Just sleep."

"If you promise to give me a goodnight kiss."

"Two," he promised. 'And a goodmorning kiss as well."

oOo

Flemeth didn't seem surprised when she saw them coming. She came forward to greet them, a fragile old lady with a gentle smile playing on her lips. Zevran wasn't fooled by it. Many Crows looked as if they couldn't hurt a fly – and then they could torture you for hours without batting an eye. If Flemeth noticed his scrutiny, she didn't let it show, however.

"Ah, if it isn't one of the two brave Grey Wardens! So nice of you to find time to visit an old friend," she said. "But I know young people rarely visit the elderly and lonely without a reason. Is there something you need from me?"

"I only came to ask you a question," Airam replied, much to the old woman's amusement, as if she knew what he wanted to ask.

"By all means, my dear Warden. What is it you would like to know?"

"Was it you who let the darkspawn into the Tower of Ishal? Was it you, who made it impossible to light the signal in time?"

For a moment, Flemeth's mask slipped; this wasn't the question she expected. Zevran couldn't blame her. He didn't expected it either – though he should have. Why did he say anything to Airam? He should have known his crazy mage wouldn't just let it be.

"Me? I am just a humble old woman. Did you really come all the way here to ask me that?" Flemeth asked with a cackle; Zevran had the impression she was trying to lure Airam into giving her another reason, as if she knew about the mission Morrigan had given them. Was this all agreed upon in advance? But to what point? If this was a trap, he couldn't understand it. And it was too late to warn Airam now, anyway. He could only hope Airam would be careful-

"You're a shapeshifter," Airam said, ruining that hope. "Morrigan told me it was you who taught her. Can you change into a dragon? Is that how you kept the darkspawn away? Answer me! Did you betray Ferelden during the battle at Ostagar?"

"My, my, such strong words." Flemeth tried to look amused, but she tensed; her shoulders stiffened, and her voice had a metallic shrill to it that wasn't there a moment before. "May I remind you it was not I who commanded the army, but the king's general – Loghain, I believe was his name? He pulled out of the battle, leaving your Wardens and everyone to die. Surely you don't think his decision would have been different had you lit the fire five minutes earlier?"

"Enough of this, Airam," Wynne said. "We apologize-"

"I'm not asking about Loghain," Airam said, as if Wynne wasn't there. "He'll get what he deserves. I'm asking about you, the Tower of Ishal, and the darkspawn. And I insist on an answer. Was it you who let darkspawn into the Tower?" There was an icy aura swirling around him, his eyes shining like black opals. There were only two or three other times Zevran saw him like this, and it always sent shivers down his spine.

Unlike him, Flemeth was unimpressed. "You insist?" She threw her head back and laughed. "Such strong spirit! So much fire! Or should I say ice?" She laughed again. "And what would you do if I said I did? I wonder. Would you try to punish me for my sins? Do you feel entitled to carry out justice?"

"This is not a difficult philosophical question," Airam snapped. "And I didn't ask for a moralistic interpretation of it, thank you. It is a simple yes – no question."

"No question is ever simple," Flemeth answered, now clearly annoyed. "But you don't understand. None of you ever do... Always coming to me, demanding justice, but the world is so much more complicated than you know. You mourn a few thousands at Ostagar, but in the grand scheme of things, it's just one grain of sand, a tiny ripple in the fibre of the world... their deaths caused sorrow, but who can say their lives wouldn't have caused even more pain in the future?"

Airam crossed his arms. "Indeed – who can say what would happen if they had lived? Perhaps the Maker could, had he not turned his back to us long ago."

Leliana flinched, but had enough sense not to interrupt Airam.

"We live here and now. All we can do is choose from the options we have. We can only deal with the evil we experience now. And if we make mistakes because we couldn't see forward enough, it's the task of those who come after us to fix them."

The old witch stared at him. "I see not even ten years in the Tower can cure the blind naiveté that's inbred in you," she muttered. "Very well. Show me what you got, little Warden."

She took a step back. The air around her quivered, and there was a brief, blinding flash of white light, followed by a roar. When Zevran opened his eyes again, the old woman was gone.

In her place stood a dragon, opening its mouth to burn them.

oOo

This time, he at least had a clue what to do: get to the dragon's belly, stick the daggers as deep as possible, then finish it off.

Unfortunately, this dragon was far more intelligent than the 'New Andraste', and aware of its weak points. And this time, they had one strong warrior less. Zevran never thought he would miss Alistair so much. He quickly drank a healing potion, and poured more poison on his blades. They had to finish this quickly, before-

The dragon roared, breathing fire again. The barrier Wynne cast around them made a sizzling noise and evaporated. The old mage crumpled to the ground, exhausted. Their time had just run out.

"Gran!" Airam's voice was panicked, but he had no time to check on her, or cast a spell. Ignoring Leliana's arrows and Zevran's flailing, the dragon rose up in the air and landed right in front of the boy. One swipe of the tail, and Airam was flying across the frozen swamp, crying in pain.

The dragon roared in triumph before it rose up again and swooped down on Leliana, its cruel yellow eyes glistening with malicious joy.

Airam was dead. And they would soon follow. Oddly, it made him calm and determined. Of course he would follow. Without Air, there was no reason to live. But he would take this bitch with him. He wrapped himself in shadows. The dragon was toying with the bard, like a cat with a trapped mouse, and didn't see him. This was his chance. If he could sneak close enough, through its rear paws-

A sudden flicker of movement to his right distracted him, and he turned his head. Airam was back on his feet, covered in blood and holding a dagger instead of his staff.

"You will not kill my friends!" The air around Airam almost exploded, the icy aura stronger than ever.

The dragon stopped, forgetting about Leliana and turned to Airam again. But before it could fly up, Airam cast a spell – the likes of which Zevran had never seen before. The very air seemed to freeze; breathing was almost impossible. He tried to run aside, but he couldn't move – his boots, his leathers, his daggers, everything was quickly turning into ice. So this is how it feels. It would be almost amusing, if it wasn't so scary. Ah well. There was nothing he could do but hope he would eventually melt, yes?

oOo

Being an ice statue was a much less interesting experience than he imagined– cold, wet, and most of all, excruciatingly boring. He could only watch as Airam lit the fire and moved them all next to it, poured his magic into Wynne, and tried to fix a meal, drinking potions just to keep moving. Finally, long after lunch time, he felt he could move again.

"Zev," Airam greeted him with an exhausted smile. "Sorry for that. The spell was too strong; I couldn't fully control it. Thank the Maker it only froze your clothes and weapons, not your body. I was so worried for a moment... but I'm blabbering. Come, let me help you out of those wet clothes, and then you should eat. The stew is not much, but it's warm at least. Leli should join you in a few minutes, I think."

A few minutes later, he was sitting in dry clothes and wrapped in a blanket near the fire, cramming himself with the stew; Airam was right - it wasn't much, but it was better than the one he had cooked in the Deep Roads, in similar circumstances.

Where his arm was also cut.

But now that Leliana had also melted, and Wynne had begun to wake up, he had to push the question about that aside.

"Is Flemeth dead?" he asked instead.

"I don't know. She was frozen solid, of that I'm sure, but before I could finish her off, she disappeared."

"Disappeared? How? Where?"

Airam shrugged. "How should I know? She was there, then she glittered in a pinkish haze for a moment, and then she was gone. She didn't return, thank the Maker. I wouldn't have been able to cast that spell again."

"We should leave as soon as possible," Leliana said, joining them. "Even if we have to carry Wynne. It is not safe here. Flemeth might return at any moment; even if she doesn't, it was her magic that kept the darkspawn away."

"Gran is not injured, only exhausted. Mana burn. She won't be able to cast any magic for a while, even if she drinks lyrium potions. But she should be back to normal by this time tomorrow."

"And you?"

Airam avoided her eyes. "I... could, perhaps, if really necessary..."

"No," Zevran cut in. "You will not cast any magic until you're fully healed. I'm still amazed you survived that hit. And don't even think about not taking health potions this time."

"I already took a few. My ribs hurt a lot, but it's a bit better now," Airam admitted.

"Show me. Right now – we'll go inside the hut. Leli can stay with Wynne, yes?" Zevran was not a healer, but he could at least dress the wounds until Wynne could have a proper look at them. He went to pick up his backpack from where he had tossed it when the fight start. To his surprise and worry, Airam followed him without a word of protest... that could only mean it hurt too much.

His worries were more than confirmed when he helped Airam out of his robes. Healing potions helped with the abrasions and bruises and small cuts, to an extent, but those ribs were cracked. And there was still a thin, pale red line on his left arm.

"How did you get that cut?" he asked nonchalantly, as he prepared poultices while Airam sat on the bed.

"I know you saw me, Zev."

Their eyes met.

"I saw you with a bleeding arm and a dagger."

"Don't... You know what it means. You know I used blood magic," Airam whispered. "Even if I'd drunk a lyrium potion, I wouldn't have had enough mana for that spell. I had no other chance against Flemeth."

"I know."

"She would've killed you, Zev. She would've killed you, and Leli, too – I couldn't let it happen. It was the only way to save you. But I'm not a maleficar, Zev."

"I know."

"Do I disgust you now?"

"Air." He put the poultices aside, and set next to Airam, gently holding his arms. "You saved my life, again. I know you're not a maleficar, and even if you were – I'm an assassin, remember? You need to try much harder, if you want to disgust me."

Airam looked up at him, finally smiling again. "I'm a lucky guy to have you, Zev... I'd hug you, but my ribs still hurt."

Zevran kissed him on the cheek and picked up the bandages again. "Indeed, you are lucky to have me. An assassin, a bodyguard, a nurse... and I did teach you those card games, too."

"But you never polished my armour," Airam pointed out.

"Oh? Then I shall fix that. Soon, you will be all oiled and polished, yes?"

"Maker's breath. Just bandage those wounds and get out, okay? As you are perfectly fine, judging by your blabbering, I'll take a nap. Don't wake me up unless Flemeth appears. Or the Archdemon. Though they could be the same, after all... I wonder what Grandpa will think of that."

Zevran wondered about that as well – but then imagined the look on Airam's grandpa's face, when he found out his grandson had almost died again, while his bodyguard was merely frozen, and all his curiosity vanished faster than Flemeth's body.

oOo

They returned to Redcliffe after almost a three week's delay, battered, tired, and quite happy with the prospect of calm, uneventful days in the castle being pampered as fearless Wardens, the saviors of Ferelden. When Alistair ran out of the castle to greet them, it seemed their dreams had come true. Until the moment he opened his mouth.

"Air! Where have you been! We almost died of worry – one more day and I would've sent a rescue party! Anyway. You'll tell me your adventures later. But first, please, could you go and pacify your grandpa? Before he kills Morrigan? Not that I'd miss her, but you know, it would be bad for our images as the Warden Commander and the King and all that."

In truth, Zevran wasn't sure they should stop the old man... he was much more inclined to help him.

They found Morrigan in her room – in her bird form and locked in a cage, protected by a glyph that even Wynne couldn't remove.

"This is outrageous!" she burst out after the third failed attempt. "I cannot believe the king allowed this, or that the Templars did not intervene-"

"No Templar in his right mind would try to intervene in my business, my dear Wynne," came a dry reply from the door as the man himself appeared. "The girl is unharmed. I merely kept her as a safety measure. In case her mother hurt my grandson. Then she would die, yes."

He turned to Airam, pulling him into a tight embrace. "Are you trying to kill your poor old grandpa, kid? I almost had a heart attack when I heard you went to kill Flemeth! How in the Void could you think you're in her league? You're two hundred years too young to even dream of that. And you!" - he pointed his finger at Zevran - "Aren't you his bodyguard? How could you let him do something that foolish?"

Airam frowned and pulled away. "Zev is not my bodyguard, he's my boyfriend, and neither you nor anyone else must ask him to risk his life for me ever again!" he declared, much to the amusement of Alistair.

"Oooh, are you two finally together? I mean, officially? I must hear all the details. Consider it a royal order," he said to a giggling Leliana.

Airam rolled his eyes. "As your Warden Commander, I forbid any impudent inquiries on your part," he snapped. "And I wouldn't release Morrigan just yet," he told his grandpa, who had opened the cage. "I mean, turn her into a human again, of course... But I want some answers, before she can walk away freely."

Wynne opened her mouth to say something, but Airam was faster. "Gran, Leli, you two go and rest," he said firmly. "But please, don't talk about this to anyone else. Alistair-"

"I'm not going anywhere," he cut in, jutting his chin forward. "You can't send me away as if I were a kid!"

"I was just going to ask you to stay." Airam smiled at his friend. "Don't look so surprised; you are my Warden Second, after all. In addition to being King. And you, Grandpa. You know more about Flemeth than all the rest of us combined. Save for Morrigan, of course. And please, could you make sure nobody can hear what we talk about?"

For a moment it looked like Wynne and Leliana would protest, but they all knew any discussions were useless when Airam was in his Commander mode. With a slight bow, they headed to the door; from their sullen expressions it was clear Airam would hear about this later.

"Oh, wait!" he stopped them when they were almost out. "Before we lock the door – could you please send in some food? I'm starving."

Leliana shot him an irritated look, but nodded without a word. Still... Zevran decided to taste the food first. You never knew, with bards...

oOo

Morrigan pretended to know nothing.

Even Alistair could see she was lying; she was clever, but no bard, and she obviously hadn't expected her mother's secret would be found out like this. There were gaps in her story, places where her answer didn't make sense, clear contradictions. Yet she stubbornly denied she knew anything about her mother plans.

"Won't you tell me the truth?" Airam begged her. "You sent me to kill your mother, but you didn't tell me about her ability to turn into a dragon. Unless you wanted me dead – and I don't believe that – why didn't you tell me? The only answer I can think of is that you obviously didn't think the fight would be so serious it would come to that – that you knew I couldn't kill her, and that you believed she wouldn't kill me, either. So why did you send me there?"

"I told you the truth," she insisted. "I wanted my mother's grimoire, so I could avoid the fate of being an empty sack, waiting to be filled by her presence. I did not mean any harm to you, Warden."

"Yes, the grimoire." Airam sighed. "I do have it. We found it in the hut, after the fight. But tell me at least one thing: you said the book from the Tower wasn't a real grimoire, that she put that up for Irving and the Templars. Yet you claim that the part about Flemeth killing her daughters is true? Why do you believe that part of a fake journal?"

She didn't reply, staring at the wall behind him.

"Morri, please. Aren't we friends? If you don't answer me, how can I trust you?"

"You can't," she said bitterly, and stood up. "But know this at least – all that time, everything I did, was to make sure you survived the Blight. Now, unless you wish to imprison me or to kill me, I think it is time our ways parted."

Naturally, Alistair and Airam's grandpa wanted to have her locked up, but Airam disagreed. "You're free to go, if you wish," he said and hugged her. "Despite everything, I hope we will meet again. As friends."

"You are still naive, Warden," she replied with a sigh, but returned the hug. "Have you learned nothing from your assassin boyfriend? There is no such thing as friendship. People can be allies, or enemies. I was your ally – still am, even though you are blind to see it. But it is nothing to do with foolishness like friendship."

"If you say so." Airam pulled out a package, carefully wrapped in cloth, from his backpack and handed it to her. "Here. The grimoire. Though I'd guess it's another fake, am I right?" He smiled a bit at her expression. "Thought so."

"I admit, I will miss your foolishness," she muttered as she took the book and packed it, together with few other things. "Stay safe, Warden. And Alistair, try not to ruin Ferelden too fast, if you can."

She shouldered her backpack and staff and walked out, proud and calm, without turning back.

"Huh. That was disappointing. I thought she'd open the window and fly out on her staff with a mad cackling," Alistair muttered, earning a disgusted look from Airam. "What? Don't tell me you didn't expect a more dramatic ending to this scene," he argued.

Airam silently picked his things and followed Morrigan's example.