AN: I want to thank to all who still have patience with me and follow this story - and especially to those who reviewed or faved it. You're what makes me continue. :)

Special thanks to ShebasDawn, for being ridiculously awesome beta and friend.

Wynne took his advice. The next morning, she dryly informed them that she would stay in the village. Her gaze slid across their faces as if she expected them to question it, or urge her to change her mind. No one did. On the contrary, all except stone-faced Sten and Shale looked relieved. Wynne's lips narrowed into a firm line. She coldly wished them luck and left to check on Faren.

And so they left, pretending everything was fine. Alistair and the Templars were at the front, comparing their Chantry training; from the merry laughter that was erupting from the little group, it had to have been much more fun than Zevran would've guessed. Behind them stomped Shale and Sten in companionable silence. Airam was talking to Oghren - about what, Zevran couldn't imagine, but they both looked oddly flustered. Most curious. He'd have to pry out all the details from Airam later. For now, he turned his attention to their healer.

The only remarkable thing about Clyde was how much effort he put into being unremarkable. Average talent, average physique, average robes, average hair - all right, that one thing wasn't average. The bowl cut was simply hideous. Why would anyone inflict that on themselves was beyond Zevran. He shot a furtive, proud look at his crazy mage. He still considered the fact that Airam had finally stopped hating his hair as one of his biggest achievements. By the Maker, just look at him! If there ever truly had been a time when elves ruled this world and had princes, they had to have looked like this.

Their new temporary Wynne, on the other hand, would have been one of the serfs, at best. One of those people you tend to overlook, and even if they say or do something notable, it's usually credited to someone else. But while most people despise this invisibility and struggle to overcome it, Clyde seemed more than content to be perfectly mundane.

From the enormous interest Leliana showed in every detail of Clyde's life, it was obvious he wasn't the only one who found it suspicious.

"But surely," she was saying, "- please correct me if I'm wrong - those allowed to leave the Circle Tower are among the most talented mages? Your modesty is commendable, but you should give yourself more credit. If it was so easy, everyone would want to be a healer, no?"

The mage gave her a surprised look. "They would? Why?"

"To use their talent for the greater good outside the Tower," she replied.

"I see." Clyde chuckled. He glanced at the four Templars, but they were too absorbed in a passionate discussion with Alistair about which ale went the best with Capricorn Goat Cheese to pay attention to other things. "However, I don't think those people would be happy. Mine is a quiet life of service and prayer under the protection of Templars, lest the spirits we work with turn out to be demons and try to possess us."

Finally, they were getting to the interesting parts. Zevran gave the mage a mildly curious look. "You work with spirits?"

"All spirit healers do - it's where the name comes from. Since they're directly in the Fade, they can make healing much more efficient. It's very difficult to win their trust, however. It can take years to find a spirit willing to cooperate with you. There's a much bigger chance you'll attract a demon pretending to be a benign spirit… But, look at me blabbering - you're travelling with the best Spirit Healer in Ferelden, none of this is new to you."

Zevran exchanged a glance with Leliana. He had an unpleasant feeling they had just found out the reason for Wynne's odd behaviour. And if it was true… and if Alistair found out… Brasca! And just when he hoped all the heavy drama was behind them.

"Me, I'm happy not being great," the mage continued. "Great mages tend to attract a lot of danger. From school bullies to mad regents, everyone wants to get them, you know? I never liked that kind of attention, thank you. Besides, great people do great things. Save the world and stop the Blight, things like that. They don't have time to deal with the little problems of little people. You know, things like kids being sick because they ate pretty but poisonous berries, farmers breaking a bone or two when they fall from a haymow, or the most curious black eyes women get by falling down the stairs after their husbands get drunk. If we were all great like Senior Enchanter Wynne, or Surana, who would make poultices for diaper rash?"

Leliana was impressed, but Zevran was unconvinced. Mediocrity as a life mission? It sounded like a convenient excuse for not trying your best. Eh, whatever. If that was what the mage wanted, Zevran couldn't care less. There was one thing the mage said, however, that caught his attention. The Templars were dealt with, but there was still one mark on his to-do list. Perhaps he could use this mage to find out more about him.

"School bullies?" he asked. "I can't imagine anyone bullying our Warden. He'd turn them into ice statues until they cooled down, as he says."

Clyde laughed. "Yes, he was always… creative in using his magic, especially when people tried to bully him. Freezing people would be too much, however. The Templars wouldn't tolerate it, not even for him, although he was Irving and Greagoir's pet. If I remember correctly, that only happened once, and they only let it pass because the guys he froze were major assholes and had it coming for a long time."

His Air, Greagoir's pet? Zevran was quickly losing last bits of respect for this fool. His voice held no hint of his feelings, however, as he continued. "Oh? What happened?"

"There was this guy who always thought much of himself, acted as if the First Enchanter was his footman. He had a lot of admirers, although I could never see why. He was handsome, but not gorgeous, and while he was talented, it wasn't enough to be one of the Elites. Even so, there was a flock of apprentices tagging behind him like puppies, hanging on his every word as if he were the holy Maker. Today it seems laughable, but back then, one word from him could turn your life into hell... Then one day he made the mistake of targeting Surana."

Clyde's face brightened. "No one knows what actually happened there. Surana was enigmatic as always, and Taranis and his friends never dared talk about it. But they were found with-" he gave an embarrassed chuckle "-with their pants down, and in, um, incriminating positions. Frozen to the bone. It took the First Enchanter and several other Enchanters three days to unfreeze them."

Leliana giggled, half amused, half horrified. "Oh, Maker, that's terrible! But that does sound like our Airam."

"I heard that, Leliana," Airam said over his shoulder. "Don't believe it, Clyde – I assure you, I only cast that spell once – at those four fools."

Brief surprise and curiosity flickered on Leliana's face, and Zevran cursed inwardly. He understood that Airam was worried about what their new companions would think of his penchant for freezing people, but it would be better if he didn't say anything. Leliana had been listening to the whole story with great interest, and after this comment, she'd definitely dig out what truly happened. If she reported it to the Divine… Ah well. They had survived without Chantry support this long, no? He would just have to guard his crazy kid more carefully.

For now, Leliana just laughed. "I was just going to say that it is a great punishment for a bully. I bet he reconsidered his behaviour after that," she said, turning to Clyde again.

"I don't know if he reconsidered it, but that was the end of his glory. He became one of us mediocre guys he used to hate so much." Clyde didn't even try to mask the malicious joy in his voice. "I heard he asked to be transferred to Kirkwall, because no one in our Circle would take him seriously after that."

Kirkwall. It would have to wait, after all. Maybe if the Archdemon popped up there, Airam would naturally hurry to help the city… Alas, the Archdemons weren't exactly known for fulfilling wishes. At least it would be a challenge, no? Yes, definitely something to look forward to.

oOo

The sun was setting when they reached the old fortress. Everything was in the same shape they'd left it, all those three days ago. And he'd hoped he would never again see the cursed place. At least there were no apparitions this time, and only a handful of demons - leftovers from their last visit. Even though the last ritual hadn't been completed properly, and the seal of the Fade tear was only temporary, it did its job pretty well. Good thing, too, because Wynne's estimation of Clyde's fighting skills was pretty accurate. The first time he saw a rage demon gliding toward him he squealed like a nug and hid behind the nearest Templar. But he did know a few buff spells, so he wasn't completely useless. The Templars were also nervous at first, but soon became confident in their skills.

Avernus, on the other hand, seemed quite happy. The moment the heavy oak door of the fortress shut behind them, his eyes lit up as if he was coming back home after centuries away. He explained in great detail the history, glory and purpose of each and every room they passed - which would be boring even if most of them didn't look like a midden, but none of them had the heart to stop him. At least he didn't expect any questions and comments, and was satisfied with an occasional nod.

The old mage insisted it was always wiser to deal with the demons during the daylight, when they were the weakest. Clyde had never heard of such a thing, and their experience didn't confirm it, either, but it was better to face them with well-rested and fresh minds. They set up camp for the night and ate the big buns filled with spiced beef that the Chantry sisters had packed for them - one of the brighter points of Fereldan cuisine - while Leliana played softly on her lute. Zevran was just about to tuck into his bedroll, when Airam said he needed to talk to him, and led him to the next room.

"Hmmm? Can't wait to be alone with me?" Zevran teased, wrapping his arms around Airam's waist, and pulling him in for a kiss.

"Not so desperately to do it here," Airam replied with a chuckle when they broke it; he pushed Zevran slightly away. "Especially as we'll be at Erwin's place in two days. It's not exactly a palace, but I'm sure Erwin can find some silken sheets for us."

Zevran's breath hitched. Did he mean it? After that one brief talk on the way to Ostagar, he'd never brought up the subject again. When they were in Redcliff, Airam didn't approach, and Zevran hadn't push. And now this.

"Today I want to talk about something more important," Airam continued.

"Yes?" Nothing could be more important right now, but for Airam's sake, he tried to look interested.

"Yes," Airam said firmly, not fooled by his pretence. "About your little talk with Clyde this morning."

"Because we talked about your past?" he asked warily.

"Because I know what you're doing," Airam snapped. "Look. I really appreciate your help in finding those Templars. It was a great relief to finally be able to put it behind me, to have closure. But that's where it ends. I don't want you to look up and punish anyone who wrongs me."

"As you wish. No more vengeance," he said with a bow, although he had no intention of keeping that promise.

"I mean it, Zev. I'm a big boy, you know, I can take care of myself. I don't need you to be my nanny or bodyguard or avenger."

"Then what do you need me for?"

"Silly assassin. You really need to ask?"

Yes, he almost said, but swallowed it at the last moment. Instead, he laughed and pulled Airam in for another kiss.

oOo

The ritual went as smoothly as it went wrong the last time. Although the mirror was broken, it was possible to reopen the seal and close it again, though Zevran didn't quite understand how - he did ask Avernus, more in an attempt to be polite than any real interest, but all the stuff about energy that never truly disappears and its residuum went right over his head. It didn't matter. What was important was that this time, the Chant was perfect, mainly thanks to Clyde's rich baritone, and when the demons appeared, the Templars were ready. Two of them got mild injuries, but nothing that a simple healing wouldn't fix.

When it was all over, all three mages agreed that the Fade was stable once again, and the fortress was now completely safe. Alistair and Airam were both excited to have their very own Warden Fortress, but Zevran hoped to never set foot in it again. The others agreed with him, eager to be back in the village.

All except Avernus, that is. "Perhaps it would be better if I stayed here," he declared.

They all gawked at him. Alistair was the first one to recover. "Why would you do that?" he asked.

The old mage shrugged. "I'm too old to fight. If I came with you, I would only be a burden. Here, I can still be of use. I could continue my research."

"I see," Airam said gently, but then straightened his back and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, but I can't allow that," he said in his Commander voice. "I do want you to continue your research, although we will have to discuss your methods. But this place is not fit for research, or anything else. No, it will be better if you come with us to Denerim. I'm sure we will find better premises, with proper equipment and supplies for you there."

Avernus opened his mouth to protest, but Airam didn't let him. "Also, you are currently the only senior Warden in Ferelden. We would appreciate it if you could tell us more about the Order." He shot a pleading look at Alistair.

"Yes, I'm sure there's a lot we could learn from you," Alistair said, even managing a small, awkward smile.

Avernus hesitated. He looked around himself, as if the demolished armchair and tattered wallpaper could tell him what to do. "Well… I guess… if you still need me, I can't refuse. I am still a Warden."

"I'm glad to hear that," Airam said curtly. "Now, it seems we all have very good reasons to hurry to Denerim-" he grinned at Zevran "-so please, let's go."

oOo

"You couldn't wait a couple of days? I'm not that injured - I'll be fit tomorrow, I could've fought with you then…"

The sisters had prepared a little feast to celebrate their victory, and Faren was allowed to join in. Seated in an armchair and wrapped in a thick woollen blanket, he sipped soup from a beer mug, too weak to eat with a spoon, but too proud to let anyone feed him. That didn't stop him from asking dozens of questions about every detail of their adventure and complaining about being left behind.

Airam pointed his finger at him. "In that case, get out of that armchair and do fifty push-ups."

"I said I'll be fit tomorrow, not that I'm fit now."

"Go back to sleep, fool. Dream about what Dagna will say when she sees you like this." Airam got up and stretched his back and arms. "The rest of you should all go to bed, too. I want to leave at daybreak. Except you, Wynne. I need to talk to you - it won't take long, I promise."

"I don't know what really happened there, Zevran," Faren said, as they watched Airam and Wynne leave, "but, you know - I'm glad. Finally he's like the Commander that dared to threaten the Assembly again."

oOo

The Mayor kept his part of the agreement - the next morning, four sleighs, each with two sturdy Fereldan horses, were waiting for them in front of the Chantry. Sten and Shale took one, Wynne, Oghren, and Faren were in the next, and in the third was Avernus and Alistair, whose curiosity about the Wardens was apparently stronger than his suspicion of blood mages.

"Difficult situation." Leliana tapped her lip with the tip of her finger. "If I join Alistair and Avernus, I might overhear Warden secrets, and-"

"-And I would never deny you the pleasure of that," Zevran said as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and maneuvered her towards the sleigh. "Two centuries of secrets! For a bard, that's a dream come true, no?" He helped her climb in, then joined Airam in the last one.

"I could get used to travelling like this," Airam greeted him with a wide smile. "Walking is terribly overrated."

"Yes… now only if it was a hot summer day, this was a cart being pulled by two Taslin Striders travelling to the beach, and we had a bottle of wine, it would be perfect."

"I can't help you with the beach and Taslin Striders, but the winter has its advantages, you know. Like keeping the wine cold, even without magic." Airam reached into the basket placed next to him, and pulled out a bottle and a glass.

"Ah, amore. You always know how to warm my heart. But, only one glass?"

"Yes. It's too cold for cold wine. I prefer hot tea these days." Airam pulled out another bottle, this one with a glyph painted on it - the same kind that Wynne painted on their tents to keep them warm.

Zevran laughed and poured himself some wine. "To the Wardens," he said. It was only Fereldan, but it had a nice bouquet and left a surprisingly pleasant, fruity aftertaste. "You are in a much better mood. Is it because we will be in Denerim soon?"

"Naturally." Airam smiled, but then became more serious again. "I was thinking about all that happened, and about what you said, when we talked about Wynne, and… Alistair was right, in a way. I did let my personal issues cloud my view. And look what it caused. Fighting with Alistair… Wynne almost collapsing… Faren almost dying. No, don't cut in. Please don't say it's not my fault. I'm your leader, but I forgot it. It won't happen again."

Zevran sighed. He didn't agree that it was all Airam's fault, but Airam needed to find his balance again; arguing wouldn't help at all.

"Is Wynne truly possessed?" he asked instead.

"No… well, maybe sort of… I'm not sure. You see, the Spirit Healers cooperate with benevolent spirits. They're not demons; even the Chantry allows that cooperation. Wynne had one, too, and they worked together for decades. But then… Do you remember how we fought Flemeth and she collapsed? She says - I know it sounds crazy - but she says she actually died there. The spirit wasn't powerful enough to save her, not from the Fade. So it entered her body. It claims it doesn't want to take control over her mind, it just wants to help her as it did before. Technically, she's not possessed - but she has the Spirit of Faith inside her."

"Faith?"

"Yes."

"Are you a hundred percent certain it's not the Demon of Preaching?"

Airam nodded. "That's also a possibility." They both burst into laughter. "I mean it," he continued when they had calmed down. "Anything is a possibility right now. We agreed to tell Grandpa. She wasn't exactly jumping for joy, but whatever she might think about him, one thing she can rely on is that he won't run to the Templars to report her. And he knows a lot about the Fade, spirits and demons."

"And if he says it's a demon?"

"We'll worry about that if it happens. One problem at a time, Zev. I have other worries right now."

"Oh? Like what?"

"Like how to keep your ears in place. And the first thing we'll do in Denerim is go to the market and get you a fur cap, and that's that."

Zevran sighed again. Airam back in Commander mode had certain disadvantages, too.

oOo

It was past midnight when they arrived in Denerim, stiff from cold and sitting too long; even if Erwin did have silken sheets in their room, neither of them would be able to appreciate it. Never mind; he already had the perfect plan - one that started with eating out, continued with a bath and massage, and didn't end until dawn.

The first two days were too busy, with the Landsmeet less than two weeks away, and besides, it was snowing too heavily, but on the third day, they finally had time to breathe again, and the cold sun turned the streets into a sparkling wonderland.

His first choice was a posh restaurant, but Airam said it would be like another of those boring business dinners with nobles. They ended up at the docks, walking through the narrow cobbled streets, eating hot chestnuts. With those horrible fur caps and wide woolen shawls wrapped up tightly to their noses, nobody would recognize who they were, even if they bothered to spare them a glance. Which they didn't.

Finally, they reached the Pearl. "A brothel for a date? I love how you think, amore."

"Fereldan brothel," Airam corrected him, his eyes dancing with mirth. "You can never be sure what you'll find in there."

And once again, his Warden was right. What they found inside was the very last thing Zevran expected to see in the middle of a Fereldan winter.

They stepped right into the battle. A very unfair one: a single lady against five thugs. They were dressed in full leather armor, with helmets, shields and all. She was in a sinfully short white leather tunic and blue leather pants, with a matching blue bandana in her hair, armed only with two daggers. The flickering light of the oil lamps got caught in the golden bands around her arms and ankles, making her movements almost hypnotic. It wasn't a fight, it was art - passionate, elegant and precise. Those thugs never stood a chance.

"Wow," Airam whispered at his side, his eyes wide with admiration.

Zevran smiled. It was the usual reaction when people saw a true master duelist for the first time.

"I want to learn to fight like that! Do you think she'd agree to train me?"

That reaction was unique to his crazy kid, though.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Air. She is an extraordinary duelist, maybe even the best, but I don't think Arl Eamon would approve, and in this case, I'm sure Grandpa Rashwash would agree with him."

Airam frowned. "Why not? Who is she?"

"If you don't mind, I'll introduce myself." The fight was already over, the thugs scrambling away followed by boos and laughter from the other patrons. The woman sheathed her daggers and sashayed her way over to the two of them. "My dear Zevran, it's such a pleasure to see you again. And you must be the Warden Commander, yes? I'm Isabela, the Captain of the Siren's Call, and I'm looking forward to getting to know you better."

"The pirate captain, she forgot to say."

"Ah, you always pay attention to details. I've always liked that about you."

Airam looked from one to the other, frowning. "You know each other?"

"Intimately," Isabela replied.

"She was the wife of one of my marks," Zevran quickly explained, before it could get any worse.

"One who felt the need to express her gratitude," she added.

"You killed - you know what, I don't think I want to hear it after all," Airam said. "We should go back, Zev. Come on."

Isabela laughed, pinching Airam's cheek. "Awww, look how cute he is. Oh, come now, sweet thing, there is no need to glare at me like that. I don't bite… at least not fully dressed and in public."

Zevran fully expected Airam to freeze her on the spot - she'd make the sexiest ice statue ever - but she was rescued by Sanga, who came to nervously thank her for sending the thugs away, and to invite Airam for dinner at the same time, on behalf of the establishment.

"Please, I must insist!" she said as she led them to a private booth. "It would be our great honour. I know how it must seem, but I'd hate for you to get the wrong impression about the Pearl, ser Warden. We are a most discreet and safe place." She waved to a girl, who immediately came with a carafe of first-class Riesling and a tray with a selection of spiced cheeses.

Aware that he couldn't afford to estrange Sanga - the staff at the Pearl was an invaluable source of information - Airam had no choice but to accept. It didn't improve his mood at all. He drummed his fingers on the table, killing any attempts at dialogue with monosyllabic replies.

Isabela sighed. "It seems I overstepped this time. I apologize, Warden. I couldn't know it was this serious between you - I wouldn't have guessed Zevran was the type for such a relationship. If I promise I do not intend to seduce either of you, will you forgive me and listen to what I have to say? It will be of interest to you, I promise."

"Sure."

"The truth is, I was planning to get in touch with you," she said. "What Zevran said is true. I am a pirate. I'm not ashamed of what I do. Rich merchants, nobles, bankers - they are all far worse thieves than I am. I see nothing wrong with taking what they stole and giving it to those who need it more. Starting with me. But, I do have my limits. There are things I will not do, where I draw the line no matter how much money is involved. One of them is the slave trade. I will not tolerate it. There is not much that I can do, however. I can occasionally capture a slavers' ship and set them free, but it's negligible - a mere drop in the ocean."

"It's not negligible to those you save," Airam said in a much friendlier voice. "But, what do you want from me? Not that I wouldn't want to help, but what could I do? I already have to deal with the Blight and the civil war in Ferelden. I can't send the army to patrol the seas and check every ship. Even if I had enough men, I don't have the authority to do that - I'm only the Warden Commander in Ferelden." He bit his lip, frowning.

Isabela shook her head. "I'm not asking you to stop slavery everywhere. I'm not that naive. But what if I told you that there are slavers in Denerim, and that stopping them would probably win you the civil war?"

"Slavery is illegal in Ferelden. How can it be related to their civil war?" Zevran pointed out.

"It can and it is. The slave trade is very profitable. War is an expensive business - as I'm aware you know already - but it makes it easy to cover the disappearance of a few thousand people, to say they were slaughtered by enemy soldiers, or by the Blight… or by the plague. Who would question it? Who would care about peasants, elves, the scum from the alienages?"

Airam pushed the tray aside and leaned forward. "I do," he said. "Tell me everything."

oOo

Airam stormed into Erwin's winter garden like an elven god of revenge. "I'm going to kill Loghain," he declared loudly. It didn't rouse much interest; everyone continued reading, playing cards or gossiping, as they always did at this late hour, shortly before they went to bed.

"You won't guess what Avernus told me!" Alistair said excitedly. "There's a Warden's vault in Denerim, and there might be a supply of the Archdemon's blood for the Joining! He thinks it should still be usable. There's a spell on it-"

"Loghain is selling Fereldans to Tevinters!" Airam cut in. "Even right now, right under our noses!"

"I don't know who told you that, but I don't believe it," Erwin said calmly. "I have no illusions about the Teyrn, but even he's not that stupid. That would be a political suicide."

"We'll see. I'm going to check for myself, first thing tomorrow morning. If what I heard is true, the Tevinter slavers are in the alienage right now - officialy trying to help the victims of a plague. In reality, they're shipping the elves to Tevinter."

"I did hear that the alienage is closed off because of the plague," Erwin said slowly. "I didn't have cause to suspect - but by the Maker, Air. If what you say is true…" He stood up and paced around the garden. "We need to find a way into the alienage," he muttered. "For you and Zevran it shouldn't be too difficult; but you can't go alone, it's too dangerous. But you can't all go, either - not if we want to get there quickly and without much suspicion. Sten and Shale should stay here, at least."

"I'm coming, too," Wynne said. "I feel much better already; Aadishwara says there's nothing to worry about," she added, when she caught Airam's questioning look.

"I'll go, too," Alistair said, his face dark. "Leliana? Oghren?"

"There's no need to ask," the bard replied.

"Yeah. Let's kick some Tevinter asses," Oghren added.

"Excellent." Erwin clasped his hands. "Let's do this, people."