AN: I would like to thank to all my wonderful readers and reviewers. All your favs, PMs and reviews mean a lot to me. :) I'll try to update more regularly - my goal is to bring Air and Zev's story to glorious end this year. But it's not a promise. . Also, since I write so slowly, would you be interested in a short summary of what happened in the previous chapter or two at the beginning of each new chapter?

Extra thanks goes to my wonderful friend and beta, ShebasDawn for her help and prodding.

Before the Fall

.

"Well then, Zevran, you have my attention. What was so urgent that you had to take me away from a suffering man who needs my help?"

Zevran didn't hurry to reply, observing the stubborn, disagreeable woman with a calm smile on his lips. Only another Crow would realize how dangerous he truly was right now.

"I need to know if you are a threat to our safety."

oOo

Shortly after Airam and Alistair finally returned – both alive, not bleeding, and unfrozen, to everyone's honest surprise – Avernus became ill. The sudden change of diet from roasted rats and mushrooms to bread and cheese didn't agree with him, apparently. For a few tense hours it seemed they would lose him, before the fever finally decreased. Both Wynne and Airam took turns healing him for the rest of the night, and when dawn came, he looked considerably better. But not enough to do the ritual. Despite the old man's protests that he was fine, that much was obvious even to Shale and Sten.

And that was when the problems started. Wynne insisted she could now take care of the patient by herself, and when Airam pointed out that she looked almost as bad as Avernus, she scoffed and said she didn't need a child to tell her how to do her job. Airam pressed his lips together, but didn't talk back. It was unfair, if you asked Zevran. Had it been anyone else, him included, they would have been frozen for at least half an hour. But maybe, after all that had happened in the past few weeks, Airam didn't want to start another argument. He and Alistair were carefully polite to each other, which was certainly an improvement compared to yelling and cold glares, but it was far from their almost brotherly bond before.

The next morning, Avernus looked as vivacious as could be expected from a guy born back in the Storm Age; Wynne, on the other hand, looked grey and sickly. But when she once again assured them it was nothing to worry about, they did not argue.

In hindsight, they should have.

The ritual had to be performed in the same room where the demons were first summoned, Avernus said. Zevran half expected a horde of demons swooping down on them the moment they step onto the ramparts. That would be bad. But the demons clearly decided to take the day off, as they reached their destination without encountering a single one. The mages immediately set to work, drawing three complicated glyphs on the floor. For protection while they cast, Avernus explained. The rest of them cleaned the dust and spider webs off the ugly oval mirror in the corner of the room. Sophia had bought it in Kirkwall from a foreign collector of rare artifacts, but had never had the time to figure out what it did. The magic inside it would help them now – it would be a connection to the Fade. No matter what, they had to maintain full focus on the chant, or the tear in the Veil would not be closed properly. The rest of the group would have to take care of the demons that would come.

Zevran didn't pay much attention to the explanation, to be honest. The mages knew what they were doing, yes?

Almost two hours later, everything was ready, and Avernus went over all the details once again. The mages would stand inside the glyphs and chant. No matter what, they had to maintain their focus, or the Veil would not be closed properly. The others would have to fend off the demons by themselves. They all nodded, confirming they knew what to do and what was at stake. Wynne was leaning heavily on her staff, and Airam suggested - several times - that they should take a rest before they attempted it. Guess what the old hag said? Zevran felt his blood boil every time he remembered her annoyed answer that she was fine and they should do it now.

And so they did. The mages started to chant, the glyphs glowed with white light. For a moment it was almost beautiful, if eerie. Then the surface of the mirror changed from solid glass into a swirling, liquid-y… thing. The hair on Zevran's neck stood up, and he pulled out his daggers. Not a moment too soon. The demons popped out of the mirror, rose up from the ground, glided through the doors and windows, their furious screams almost drowning out the chant.

The next few minutes, Zevran was too busy stabbing, decapitating and disemboweling their twisted shapes to pay attention to the others. He did not see what happened. All he knew was that one moment he was plunging his dagger into the back of a rage demon that was attacking Leliana, and the next moment, with a high-pitched sizzling sound the world went white.

When he opened his eyes again, he was laying on the floor, which was spinning around at an annoying speed. Someone was sobbing. He sat up and blinked, trying to pull himself together. The others were scrambling to their feet, looking just as confused and dizzy as he felt. All except one.

Next to the mirror, now dark and shattered, curled below the shards that almost buried him, lay Faren.

oOo

Wynne dozed off, Avernus explained later. Right in the middle of the ritual. Only for a heartbeat or two, then she had resumed chanting. And that was the problem. If she had stayed quiet, if she had let them finish, this would not have happened. But she didn't stop to think; mortified by her mistake, and hurrying to fix it, she picked up the chant again, without realizing that the other two were a few verses ahead already. It disrupted the ritual, and released all the magical energy in a sudden blast, with the mirror at its center.

The tear was closed, but not properly, Avernus continued. It would not last more than two weeks – three, at most.

Zevran nodded without any real interest. Two weeks were more than enough, as far as he was concerned. Once they left, they could send Templars from that ghastly village nearby to finish the job. Zevran forced himself not to stare at the young dwarf. He was alive, but not yet out of danger. Both Airam and Wynne were constantly pouring healing magic into him. Wynne was trembling with exhaustion by now, but stubbornly refused to take a break. It was not difficult to understand her reasons, and Zevran did pity her. But was it not that same stubbornness that almost killed Faren?

oOo

The next morning, Airam took Alistair aside, and a moment later they announced they were leaving. Faren was still not stabilized, but it was his best chance for survival. There were a few shards in the back of his head that were impossible to pull out here; they did not have the proper equipment for such surgery. They had to carry him out of here, as fast as possible. Right now.

While they were disbanding the camp, Airam came to him. "Can you do me a favour? It's about Gran. Something's wrong – she must be ill, to be so tired all the time. But she won't tell me, and I don't know what to do anymore. If she collapses now… I don't have enough mana to heal both of them. I've already used three lyrium potions today – I expect I'll be out of them completely by tonight. Could you talk to her? Maybe you'll have better luck."

"I will try," Zevran replied. "But I warn you, I will not be polite. Don't be surprised when she comes to complain to you."

Airam chuckled. "I've always admired your courage, Zev. All right, then. Do your worst, if you must – just make her see reason."

oOo

Getting out quickly was easier said than done. The tear was temporarily closed, but there were still a few demons on this side of the Veil. And every single one hurried to them to complain about being cut off from their demonic friends. With Levi and Leliana carrying an unconscious Faren on a stretcher, followed by Airam and Wynne, both of whom continued to cast healing magic, the fights were considerably less fun. Which was saying something, as they were not much fun in the first place.

And then the underground maze. The barrier was still in place. Once Avernus was gone, it would disappear within a few days, but for now it kept the demons outside and they could pick up the pace. They pushed forward as fast as they could, with only a couple of breaks to eat and have a brief rest, and, four hours after sunset, they reached the village of Lerwych and headed to the Chantry.

The sisters were not happy to be awakened in the middle of the night, but one look at Faren was enough to change their minds and let them into the monastery. A quarter of an hour later, Airam and Wynne were explaining the dwarf's condition to a healer, while the rest of them were served dinner and hot tea in the tiny dining hall. Without a single question. Zevran didn't like it. Such lack of curiosity was not natural. He was considering whether or not to talk to Leliana about it when the Revered Mother approached Alistair, asking for a word with him.

Zevran met Leliana's glance over the table, and after a few seconds, she gave him a subtle nod.

"I must say, you have a beautiful porcelain tea set! It is from Val Royeaux, no?" she asked the sister who brought another pot of tea.

"No, that's from Amaranthine," the sister replied.

"Oh, it must have been shipped there," Leliana assured her. "Trust me, I can recognize the fine Orlesian work anywhere. This is definitely Porcelaine de Monsieur! You can see it from the pattern..."

All four sisters now grouped around her, staring at the pot as if they had never seen it before. When Zevran muttered his excuses, they hardly noticed. "Out and to the left," one of them said without even looking at him.

Outside the hall, Zevran wrapped himself in shadows, and looked around. There were only a few doors along the corridor – and only one with light pouring from under it. Zevran sneaked over to it, and listened.

"…but the Mayor is a devoted supporter of the Regent," the Revered Mother was saying. "He will want to see you tomorrow. Be careful what you say – or you will be in trouble."

"Is it not possible to avoid it? If we left before we met him-"

"He will only become more suspicious. Besides, your friend will not be able to leave for at least a few days."

"You are probably right." Alistair sighed. "Thank you for all your help and advice, Mother."

"There is no need to thank me," the Revered Mother said. "If the Divine supports your case, who am I to question it?"

"The Divine?"

"The word spreads quickly, Warden. We all know what happened in Redcliffe – how the Divine and the Seekers of Truth publicly supported the Warden Commander. We are honoured to add our bit to help you."

"That is…"

For a moment, Zevran wondered if he should barge in and stop Alistair from telling her the truth, but then he continued, "That is very gracious of you, Mother. Thank you."

Ah… not a naive Chantry boy anymore, apparently. Zevran sneaked away from the door and hurried back to the dining hall. The sisters were still discussing Orlesian art and fashion with Leliana, and barely noticed him. Only one looked at him as he entered; when she saw his wide, satisfied grin, she rolled her eyes, muttering 'men' under her breath.

A moment later, Alistair returned with the Revered Mother. One lifted eyebrow and the sisters sprang into action again. They hastily collected the empty plates and cups and hurried to prepare the Chantry for sleeping - there were no spare bedrooms in the monastery, as the Revered Mothered explained with an apologetic smile. Zevran almost joked he would gladly share a bed with one or two of the sisters, but it wasn't worth losing the Revered Mother's support. Besides, lately these jokes didn't sound so funny anymore. Instead, he joined the others in pushing the benches to the walls, and bringing the extra blankets.

oOo

By the time Airam and Wynne returned, staggering to their bedrolls, the first rays of sunlight were pouring in through the paneled windows, creating a pattern of colours on the floor and the huddled figures of their sleeping friends. Zevran propped himself on an elbow, but Airam sleepily shook his head before he could even open his mouth.

"No talk. He'll live. Now sleep," he muttered, immediately following his own advice; he was asleep almost before he lay down.

Zevran pulled one of the extra blankets up to Airam's chin, then pulled himself as close to the boy as he could. With all the dramatic revelations and demonic raids, they hadn't had any proper time together. He hadn't kissed Airam for two… no, wait for three days. Three days! Unforgivable. He must fix that first thing tomorrow morning. Now that they were out of the damned keep, and with Faren out of danger, everything would be better again. He wrapped his arm around Airam's torso. Yes, from now on, everything would be fine again.

oOo

Ser Barnaby Lovell, the Mayor, arrived at two the next afternoon. He was a sturdy man in his fifties, with streaks of grey in his neatly trimmed beard and hair; a bit wide around the waist, but it was obvious he was keeping himself in shape. His whole appearance gave the strong impression that this was a no-nonsense man.

The Revered Mother kindly allowed them to use her office for the meeting. The sisters brought in extra chairs, and a tray with hot tea and cookies – Zevran was getting fond of this Fereldan custom, really – and threw a log onto the fireplace. The room was unusually cold that morning, one of them said, with an apologetic smile.

How could that possibly be? Zevran grinned inwardly. Airam had awakened only ten minutes before the Mayor's arrival, and hadn't had time to even start his breakfast, which did not endear the man to him at all.

"Well then," he said when they were finally alone, dipping a cookie into his tea. "To what do we owe the honour?"

The man ignored him. He had wanted to meet with only 'the leader of their group', and it was clear he was not pleased with Alistair's insistence on including three more people, two of whom were elves. "I would like to know who you are and what you are doing here," he said to Alistair. "There are justifiable suspicions that you might be the Wardens, and traitors to Ferelden."

Alistair shot a nervous glance at Airam. "We, uh… we are not the Wardens."

Airam munched on the cookie as if the conversation was of no interest to him, but the tea in the Mayor's cup suddenly stopped steaming.

"I am sure this is all misunderstanding," Leliana said with a pleasant smile. "If you would be so kind as to explain those suspicions, I am sure we can easily prove that we are not the Wardens."

"You match the description," the Mayor replied. "The elf commander, the blond human-"

"Odd that you should ignore me if you think I am the Warden Commander, no?" Airam cut in. "Did you not get the portraits? Loghain had them made ages ago… That should be enough to prove I'm not him. He's taller, fatter, and has this ordinary black hair." He curled his lips in disgust. "But you are right about one thing. I am the leader of this group."

Zevran quickly lifted his cup to hide his grin. In truth, the first portraits had it right - the Denerim guards were shocked at the gross mistake of the artist, who portrayed the Warden Commander with purple hair! Only later were they 'corrected', and currently there were at least four different versions, including one in which he was a dwarf. Erwin's work, naturally.

"As for who we are, and what we are doing here, that is none of your business," Airam continued haughtily. "All you need to know is that we work for the king and are here on his mission."

"For which king?" the Mayor asked suspiciously.

"There is only one legal ruler of Ferelden," Airam snapped. "I was told you are loyal – should I now conclude you support the pretender?"

Alistair almost choked on his cookie; Leliana had to slap him on his back.

The Mayor looked from Alistair to Airam and frowned. "There are also the red-haired dwarf and a golem," he said, although he didn't sound so certain anymore.

"And? Do you think there is only one red-haired dwarf and one golem in the world?" Airam shrugged and picked up another cookie, and turned to Alistair. "You need to dip them in tea, like I did – they won't be so crumbly and you won't choke."

"Yes, thanks, I will remember that from now on," he replied dryly. "We know the Wardens have a… malfunctioning golem with them," Alistair said to the Mayor, who now looked openly disgusted. "That's why the king decided to hire the two dwarven mercenaries who joined us, together with their golem, to even the odds should we ever have to fight them."

Well, now. That was quite impressive. Nothing in Alistair's expression and posture gave away that he was lying. Ah, but it is understandable. I am a marvellous teacher and influence, yes? "Indeed," he said aloud. "We need every advantage against the Wardens. I heard they are like wild beasts."

The Mayor still wasn't convinced, but Airam didn't give him time to pause and think about it. "We still need to settle some unfinished business at the keep."

Zevran exchanged a look with Leliana. They knew what would come, of course – and Airam was so certain they understood this, he didn't even think it was necessary to talk about it with them first. Zevran couldn't decide if it was amusing, endearing or maddening.

"I can't discuss the mission, you understand," he said, leaning forward. "Suffice it to say that it concerns important evidence on the Wardens that we need to deliver to the king before the Landsmeet. And I will need your help with that."

"What do you mean?" the Mayor asked, now completely confused.

"We'll never make it to Denerim in time on foot, not with our friend heavily injured."

"You could leave him behind," the Mayor suggested.

"Absolutely not. I will not tell the king that we lost one of his treasured assets, a warrior he handpicked himself, just a few miles from Denerim. No. What I will need are coaches or sleighs to bring us to Denerim as fast as possible. I expect to have them ready when we return from the keep, so we can leave immediately." Airam's tone brooked no resistance.

The Mayor nodded. "It will be ready."

oOo

The others were as unsurprised to hear that they were going back to the keep as he and Leliana had been. The Revered Mother agreed to lend them the squad of five Templars that served in the village. They were all honest, trustworthy men, she assured them. And eager to help.

"Finally! I was tired of helping stray kittens stuck in trees, while the world around us is falling apart," their leader, William, said, when Airam warned them that the mission would be dangerous, and could cost them their lives.

"Even if it includes taking orders from a mage?"

"I do not say I will follow your orders blindly. If you turn into an abomination, I will kill you. But the Revered Mother told me about you… who you are, and what you did. I am willing to take the risk, and follow your command."

"Good enough," Airam said. "But no matter how many exciting things happen, or how many heroic deeds you do, you will not be able to brag about it."

"We do not fight for fame," the main replied proudly. "What happens in the keep, stays in the keep."

"You know," Airam said, when the man left to get ready, "If he's half as skilled in fighting as he's eager and clever, I might even reconsider my opinion on Templars."

Not everything went so smoothly. Wynne, for example. She was the only one to stay behind. The place of the third mage in the ritual would be taken by Clyde, the healer who had helped with Faren the night before. The young, timid man wasn't as eager as the Templars, especially when he heard about the demons, but eventually he agreed. Better go there and do something, than sit here waiting for the demons, he said.

Wynne felt exactly the same. She cornered Airam as they were checking their supplies and making a list of what they needed to buy from the local merchant.

"You cannot expect me to stay here while so much is at stake," she complained, but Airam was unmoved.

"You must take care of Faren."

"Clyde can do that – he is a pretty good healer. As you know. But he has no combat skills. He's young and inexperienced-"

"He's older than me," Airam pointed out. "When I joined the Wardens, I was just as inexperienced, but that's one shortcoming that is easy to fix. All it takes are a few battles."

"You are taking it too lightly," she accused him. "I know I made a mistake. There is not a moment I do not regret it, and I assure you I will do all I can to prevent it from happening ever again. That should not be a reason to foolishly risk everyone's lives."

"I'm not blaming you, Gran." he said gently. "But I won't change my decision. You will stay here, and you will take care of both Faren and yourself. The next few weeks will be crazy – I need both of you in top condition for the Landsmeet."

She crossed her arms. "If that is your concern, it is unnecessary. Faren will be fine, under Clyde's care. I am fine. All I need is a full night's sleep."

"Wynne," Airam started but she didn't listen.

"Don't worry. In the morning, I will be ready to go," she said, and walked away.

Airam ran his hand through his hair. "Maker, she's so frustrating these days," he muttered. "She used to be much less stubborn."

"Or you used to be much more strict," Zevran said. "You never let her – or anyone else – question your authority like this before. I know she's… not well, but that is not a reason to become soft. On the contrary."

"I know," Airam admitted. "I had hoped that we could get to Denerim without any trouble. She wouldn't have to overexert herself, and if we had to go on another mission, we could ask Jon or Erwin, and just, you know… retire her, without hurting her feelings." He sighed. "I made it worse, didn't I?"

Zevran chuckled. "Yes. But it's nothing a little talk can't fix. Leave it to me, yes?"

oOo

"I do not have time for your childishness right now, Zevran," Wynne said, in that annoying, patronizing tone of hers, and headed for the door.

Zevran stepped in front of her. "I am sorry, but I cannot let you go yet. You see, our leader might not blame you for what happened, but I do. And so does Sten. And Shale. And Oghren. The simple and ugly truth is, we don't want you to come tomorrow. We don't trust that you won't put us in danger."

Her eyes widened in shock, and she took a step back.

"I don't know what this horrible secret of yours is," he continued. "I don't know if you're ill, or a maleficar, or possessed-" his eyes narrowed in suspicion when she flinched at the last word, "-and I don't care. But it is clearly weakening you. You're a shadow of yourself; you can barely drag your feet, and any activity exhausts you to the point of collapse. I don't deny that you are wise, and a skilled mage, but the way you are now, it is useless. If you weren't blinded by your pride, you would see this, too. Denial doesn't help anything – it only makes you a liability."

"Is that so? And what do you intend to do? Are you going to kill me?" she asked dryly. "I wonder what Airam will say, when he finds out you murdered me in the vestry."

"Ah, dear Wynne. You always make such tempting proposals," he said with a toothy grin. "No, don't worry. I assure you, if I had decided to kill you, you would be dead already, and none would be the wiser. No. I called you to this sacred room to make you an offer."

She swallowed and averted her gaze. "What makes you think I won't tell Airam about this?"

"Because we are friends, no? We need to trust each other. You keep my secrets, I keep yours. And I am not talking about your mysterious illness. We all have more than one secret, after all." He grinned. "I wish you no harm, dear Wynne – truly, your suspicion hurts my feelings. I would never hurt one Airam loves as family. But I wonder what he would say if he found out about that little thing. From the Tower."

It was mostly a bluff, based on rumours he had heard in Redcliffe; to be honest, he hadn't taken them seriously, until now. But judging by her reaction, it would be worth a closer investigation. Maybe Leliana knew more about it?

"For your own sake, Wynne. Stay here tomorrow. Use these three days to think about friendship and trust. When we return, I hope you will be ready to go to Airam and tell him whatever it is that is bothering you, and respect his decision – not only as a friend, but also as our leader, yes?" He stepped away from the door. "Well, it was a pleasure chatting with you, my dear, but we both have more important things to do. Have a pleasant rest of the day." With a wide, warm smile, he gave her a respectful nod, and left.

The unexpected little pleasures like this were the best, he decided, as he strolled down the nave; Airam was already hovering impatiently near the door.

"How did it go?" he asked nervously.

Zevran laughed. "Do not worry, amore. It was ridiculously awesome."