AN: This chapter was meant to be a simple rewrite of the oneshot Iced Sugar Cookie, with little adjustments here and there to make it fit the main story, since it was written so long ago. But... that story was written before I did my research on the torture and effects it has on the survivors. In the end this chapter is loosely inspired by the oneshot, and reuses little bits here and there, but not much.
I won't tell you the summary of what happened before, because, clever as I am, I included it into the chapter. :P
Huge thanks to my wonderful friend ShebaDawn for betareading this, and for encouraging me and poking me to keep writing. And to all you readers who faved or followed the story, and especially those who commented. It gives me strength to go on. :)
It's a violent world, but today I'm still alive
I need you to tell me everything will be alright
To chase away the voices in the night
When they call my name
(Black Veil Brides)
"Where are we?"
Zevran started. The quill slipped from his hand, making a nasty blotch on his journal in the process. Brasca, had he dozed off again?
Airam was sitting up in bed, watching him. He quickly sat beside him. "I'm here," he said, reaching for Airam's hand. In the past seven days, that was the only thing his Warden had cared for - whenever he had one of many nightmares, he'd start calling for Zevran. 'Stay with me, Zev,' he'd keep repeating, eyes vacant, while Zevran held him by the hand and assured him he was safe.
"And where's that?"
A spark of hope ignited in Zevran's chest as he cupped his Warden's face and stared into his eyes - sleepy and confused, but focused. "You're awake," he said, as he leaned his forehead against Airam's for a moment before pulling away a little bit. "How do you feel?"
"I'm... fine..." Airam frowned at his bandaged fingers. "Or not. I don't hurt, but that's probably thanks to Gran. How long was I asleep?"
"A few days," Zevran reassured him. In truth it had been eight days since the rescue… and he hadn't really been asleep. His body had been awake. His mind had... not. Seeing him like that - unresponsive, staring into nowhere - and being unable to help him was the worst pain Zevran had ever endured.
"Is the Landsmeet over already?"
"Do I sense hope in your voice?" Zevran teased.
But Airam didn't smile. "I don't want to go," he said softly, curling into himself. "Please, Zev. I can't."
"Okay. Don't worry about it." Zevran pulled him into a hug; Airam cuddled in his arms, shivering like a lost, scared kitten. Enough was enough, he decided, as he rubbed Airam's back in small circles. Wardens, nobles, mages, they could all go screw themselves, for all it mattered to him. He would not let them throw his crazy kid to the wolves anymore to save their sorry asses.
"To answer your previous question," he said in a lighter tone, "we are on Isabela's ship, the Siren's Call."
"Oh. That's why it smells so funny," Airam said in the same light tone, clearly relieved they were not discussing the Landsmeet.
"Yes, we told her how much you loved pirate stories, so she decided to take you for a free ride."
"It's because of me," Airam said softly. "We had to run because I screwed up… I'm so sorry... Is everyone all right?"
"I forget sometimes what a crazy kid you are," he said, shaking his head. "You sneaked into Howe's dungeons, one of the most guarded places in Denerim – only the palace and Fort Drakon itself are more heavily guarded – you freed the Queen, you killed the traitor, all of it quite alone, and you call that 'screwing up'? You're a hero, my friend! The people of Denerim love you! Except Loghain and his men, of course. But that could be expected, yes?"
Airam stared at him, surprised. "But I-"
"Denerim is in an uproar," he cut in. Airam clearly wanted to say another crazy thing about how he'd failed, and that wouldn't do. "Or so our raven spy says."
"Morri's back?" Airam's face brightened.
"As it turns out, she was never far away in the first place. She followed you and watched you, waiting for her big moment… Hm. Now that I say it aloud, it doesn't sound so great. Perhaps I will ask Shale to kill all the birds in your vicinity from now on. What do you say?"
Airam didn't say anything, but there was definitely a ghost of a smile on his lips, which was all that mattered anyway. Encouraged, he went on. "Although her skill does come handy. When she spies on other people. Such as our lovely regent. He left no stone unturned in Denerim in his attempt to find the traitorous, murderous Warden. Abductor of the Queen!"
That got Airam's attention, all right. "The what now?"
Zevran theatrically shook his head. "Tsk, you truly are a hardened criminal, if you don't even remember it! Ah well, allow me to refresh your memory, then. You abducted Queen Anora, murdered Arl Howe, a loyal servant of the Crown, and then, to top it all off, had the audacity to escape from prison."
Airam pulled away a little bit, and Zevran was pleased to see a spark of anger in his eyes. Yes, yes! Much better than that defeated, resigned self-pity.
"Unfortunately for Loghain, no one's buying it," he informed Airam merrily. "The more he tries to present you as a criminal, the more people love you as a hero. Plus, the banns were not exactly thrilled that they'd had their estates searched. You could almost hear their indignant shrieks all the way to Alamar."
"We're in Alamar?"
"Nearby, yes. It's close enough that we can stay in touch with our guys in Denerim, and far enough that we don't have to worry about Loghain's guards when we go ashore. We'll return only on the day of the Landsmeet."
"So Anora is spreading her lies… The abductor of the Queen, dear Maker! I'm sure I set a new low for the Wardens." Airam buried his face in his hands and groaned. "And I'm sure it will have consequences at the Landsmeet… So much hard work, and I ruined it in one day."
Zevran suppressed a disappointed sigh. Apparently he had been too optimistic. But, compared to yesterday, or even this morning, it was still an improvement, yes? Yes, an improvement. A huge one. No need to put any pressure on the boy right now.
"Oh, I don't know about that," he said aloud. "I'm sure that the short stay outside the court and under the supervision of Erwin's friends gave our lovely Queen plenty of opportunities to reflect on her naughty behaviour, and she will tell nothing but the truth from now on."
Airam blinked. "Are you telling me you did abduct the Queen?" he asked incredulously. "Zevran, what exactly happened in the past few days?"
"Such cruel accusations! I'll have you know, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden are loyal subjects of the Crown and would never put a member of the royal family in harm's way. We are, in fact, protecting Anora. Mostly from herself. She's prone to making grave mistakes, you see. She married Alistair's brother, for Maker's sake! That's enough to question her common sense, no?"
That finally returned a smile to Airam's face. Better stop now, before he upset the boy again. "Come now, enough of this chit-chat. Wynne will have my neck if I tire you to death with talking right after you woke up."
Airam gave a little chuckle. "That wouldn't be such a bad death."
oOo
'Up jumps the halibut, lies flat on the deck, he says, 'Missus Captain, don't step on my neck!' roared twenty-two pirates in unison, if not in tune, encouraged by the dwarven brandy generously purchased by the said Missus Captain.
"You'd think I was dead," Airam said with an incredulous chuckle, looking at the loud group at the other table. Isabela had decided that Airam's awakening called for a celebration and since this was the last night before their return to Denerim and the Landsmeet, she had brought them to an inn in Alamar. It wasn't the poshest of places, but she knew the owners and guaranteed it was safe. And that their cuisine was superb.
"Well, you weren't far from it," Alistair mumbled around a mouthful. "Maker, but these roasted piglets are delicious!"
"They are," Faren agreed. "Much better than the lamb! After the Landsmeet, you should make a royal decree that the Wardens should have an endless supply of suckling pigs."
That comment was followed by a moment of uneasy silence and sideway glances at Airam. The Landsmeet was tomorrow at noon; they would be leaving for Denerim before daybreak, sneaking to Eamon's estate through the sewers – the surface would be crawling with Loghain's men. There they would get ready and arrive at the Landsmeet in the company of the Arl himself and several prominent banns. It was a good plan. There was only one problem. Airam still insisted he wasn't going.
"The sailors are most likely just happy they'll get rid of us soon." Leliana turned to Airam. "We occupy most of the cabins, so the officers had to bunk with common sailors, and neither were happy about it. They never complained, or at least not to us, but I'm sure they'll be relieved when we're off and they can go about their normal business."
"And it's windy weather boys, stormy weather, boys," the sailors yelled, as if in reply.
"… stormy weather, girls!" Isabella yelled over them.
"When the wind blows we're all together, girls!" the sailors merrily obeyed, lifting their tankards to her.
"I only hope they will be in shape to take us back to Denerim," Wynne muttered tersely. "They've been going on for hours now."
"Aww, don't be such a spoilsport," Faren complained. "Dinner started at six, and it can't be later than nine now. Plenty of time to sleep it off."
"Indeed," the old hag said, undeterred. "If we go to sleep now." Faren wanted to protest, but she held up her hand, stopping him. "Tomorrow will decide the fate of Ferelden for long years to come. You may stay up late, if you wish. But Alistair and… others who care, should be well rested, not suffering from a hangover." She didn't look at Airam, but she didn't have to.
Airam abruptly got up. "I think I'll go for a short walk. Zev? Would you please join me?"
As if he'd let him go anywhere alone again. "Of course, bello mio." He downed the last bit of ale in his tankard and got up, wrapping his arm around Airam's waist. "Don't worry, I'll tuck him in bed myself," he told Wynne before she could protest.
oOo
The Alamar docks were not a very nice place, but it would have to do. Even if Airam were strong enough, it wasn't safe. Loghain was many things, but he wasn't stupid; it was entirely possible that he had his own spies here. With Denerim less than two hours away, he could still get intelligence of their whereabouts and send a couple of ships of his men to get them before the night was over. They might be disembarking right this moment…
He looked around. All the houses here had a lit lantern hanging above the doors, casting light onto the street. Not much, but enough to confirm that it was empty, and to notice anyone coming their way in advance. Zevran relaxed a bit, blessing whomever came with the brilliant idea to light the streets. Not something he'd have expected in a city with Alamar's reputation... But then, from what little he'd seen of the city, it wasn't that much different from Denerim. More pleasant, if anything. It made him wonder if the bad reputation wasn't just a means of protecting the town from Fereldan's Crown.
They walked around for an hour or so, talking and joking – or at least, he tried to do that. Airam just gave half-hearted replies, and seemed rather worried about something. Then it started sleeting.
"We better return to the inn," he suggested.
"No, not yet! I – it's probably just a shower, it will be over soon."
"But Wynne-"
"I'll be fine! I'm not made of sugar, you know. I will not melt."
"Are you sure? You certainly look like you are made of sugar, and you are sweet enough, too."
"No… Not sugar, Zev. Look." Airam shook the branch of a nearby bush, catching the raindrops in the palm of his hand. He closed his hand for a few seconds, and when he opened it again, there were a few tiny bits of ice on his palm.
"See? It's ice. Water so cold it's lost its purpose. Frozen until it's lost itself. Unfeeling. That's me."
He covered it with his own hand, and soon he felt it melting against his palm. Looking straight into Airam's eyes, he moved his hand away. "Amore... you did this for me. Now let me do it for you."
Airam looked at his hand. "Zev – I – pleasedon'tleavemeZev."
"What?" He couldn't help laughing at the way Airam had said it.
"I know I said that you're a free man and have to make your own decisions and that I won't push you and that you don't have to stay because of me… but, Zev, I – I need you. Don't leave. Please don't leave me. You're… you're all that keeps me from falling apart and ending it all."
"Leave you? Where would I go? I belong with you. I belong to you. I would storm right into the Black City just to be with you. Never doubt that, amore."
His words didn't have the effect he'd hoped. If anything, Airam looked even more depressed and worried now. "You don't understand," he said softly, looking everywhere but at him. "I… Asking you to stay is selfish – the most selfish thing I've ever done, Zev. It's cruel. If you stay, you'll get hurt. It will… no. I will inevitably break your heart. And I'm still asking you to stay. Because without you, I won't make it to the Archdemon."
So he does want to sacrifice himself. Zevran pulled the crazy mage into his arms, hugging him tightly. He wished he could tell Airam that it would be alright, that there was a solution, but he'd promised to keep it a secret, at least for now. What could he say, anyway? 'There's this ancient ritual that might save you, if the old hermit apostates remembered it correctly and if your grandpa finds all the extremely rare things and ingredients it requires, but it's not guaranteed'? No. Better not give him hope until they were certain it would work. And considering how reckless the crazy kid was, especially not after. No. Shwara was right; it was safer to keep the whole thing secret.
"I think you greatly overestimate your heart-breaking skills," he teased, placing a gentle kiss on Airam's brow.
"Are you challenging me to break your heart now?" Airam asked with an incredulous laugh.
"Why not? I am certain you would not do it, thus inevitably failing. And we will have our happily ever after. Yes? If we survive tomorrow, that is."
"You think we- Alistair might lose the Landsmeet? You don't think he's ready after all this time?"
"No, no. He is quite ready for it, and I am sure Arl Eamon, Leliana, Erwin and the others did all they could to ensure the support of the nobles. Still, you can never be completely sure with politicians. Today you are their beloved prince, tomorrow they will throw you to the wolves."
"In that case, it makes no difference if I'm there or not." Airam pulled away from him and took a step back.
Zevran lifted his hands. "That is not what I meant. If you don't want to go, you don't have to."
"I feel a 'but' coming," Airam said, narrowing his eyes.
"No buts," Zevran promised. "I am yours. Without reservation. Remember? Now come. It's time to go back, before you turn into an iced sugar cookie right in front of my eyes and force me to eat you on the spot."
Airam chuckled. "Always the same fool," he said fondly. "But you're right. I hate to admit it, but even this much tired me… See, I'd be completely useless tomorrow anyway. I'd be just an embarrassment to everyone, bandaged and broken after a single day in prison…"
"Stop it," Zevran snapped. He stopped, and abruptly turned Airam around to face him, shaking him. "Never say that again. Don't you dare pity yourself, dismissing all you are and all you have achieved just because you lost one fight in the war. I won't let you do that."
Airam stared at him with wide eyes. "You don't get it," he said, his voice trembling. "It's not self pity, it's fear. How can I act all brave and strong when Loghain knows what a coward I am. He was there, he heard all my cries and pathetic pleas and begging. You know, he only wanted to prove the Wardens betrayed Ferelden and work for Celene, and there was obviously nothing I could tell him about that. If he asked about Eamon or the nobles who support us, or about Alistair, I would have sold you all, just to make it stop. I would've betrayed you." Tears welled in his eyes and he blinked, turning away. "I don't deserve for you to stay with me, and I don't deserve anyone calling me their leader. A little pain was all it took to prove I'm just a selfish coward."
Zevran gently turned his face back. "That's normal," he said. "I've been at many interrogations, and believe me when I tell you that I've never seen anyone who didn't shatter to pieces, admitting to anything the torturer suggested, even total nonsense and lies. You'd have to be an abomination to endure it without pleas and begging. No matter what you said during torture, I would never blame you for it."
"But-"
"But nothing." Zevran pulled him close, embracing him as tightly as he could. "If you decide not to go tomorrow, I'm at your side. Anyone trying to give you a hard time about it will have to go through me. If you decide to go, and make them all see - make Loghain see - that you are hurt but undefeated, I'm at your side. Any fool trying to imply you're a traitor will have to go through me."
"All right," Airam said meekly, resting his head on Zevran's shoulder. "I'll go. For you."
"No," Zevran said, barely suppressing a frustrated sigh. "Not for me. You should…" He frowned as he noticed a figure walking briskly towards them. He pulled away from Airam, resting his hands on his daggers. Surprised, Airam followed his gaze, and, to Zevran's great relief, got into a fighting stance immediately. The crazy mage might think he was broken, but all his instincts, honed to perfection through thousands of fights, were still there and kicked right in.
It wasn't necessary, however, as it turned out to be Sten. "Wynne is worried," he said. "The rest of us, too. I'm taking you back." Not waiting for a reply, he lifted Airam, swung him over his shoulders and simply walked back, deaf to Airam's furious protests.
"So much for not being weak," he muttered to Zevran.
"You are weak because you are injured," Sten instructed him calmly. "You need to do as the healer says and get strong again quickly. So you can kill this regent of yours and then go stop the Blight."
Succinct as always.
oOo
Wynne's worries proved unnecessary, as Zevran knew they would. Isabela might act like a flirty airhead at times, but it was a pretence to fool the gullible. As her late husband might have confirmed, when Isabela set her mind to something, she did it, with the discreet elegance of a cat, disappearing long before anyone was any wiser.
Two hours before dawn, Isabela's crew was monkeying around the ship with a liveliness most inappropriate for the hour, while the Wardens' team crouched in the Captain's cabin like sedated sheep. Even the little wisps were muted and blinking, as if they didn't want to disturb the sleepy peace.
Airam had a book in his lap for the first time since he revived. That had to be a good sign, yes? But it had been at least ten minutes since he'd turned the page, his head lolling from side to side. Time to wake him up properly.
"By the way, Alistair. What did you decide about the marriage proposal?" Zevran asked.
"As if you didn't know." Alistair didn't even look at him.
"I don't," Airam said, straightening up. "You proposed to Morri?"
Now that was something Zevran didn't expect. "Why do you think it's Morrigan?" This time he didn't have to pretend to be curious.
"Oh come on. The two of them were so obvious, with all the pretended bickering and proclaimed hatred for each other, like twelve years old…"
"Do you truly believe he'd still be alive if he proposed to me?" Morrigan asked.
Airam frowned. "If not Morri, then who?" he asked as he glanced around the room. "Leliana is a lay sister, Dagna is spoken for and Gran – no offense, Gran, but that would be… uh… awkward?"
"None taken," Wynne assured him with a hearty laugh. "But I think you missed the point. If Alistair proposed to someone, it would be up to her to decide, not him."
"You mean, someone proposed to him?" A wide grin spread on Airam's face. "Wow, Al! I didn't know you were such a lothario! And you said yes? Of course you said yes. How could you reject an offer like that! So, who's the lucky lady? At least I hope it's a lady. That would also be awkward for a king - difficult to produce heirs to the throne..."
Until that moment, their soon-to-be king had done his best to pretend he was not there – which was rather difficult, considering his face was so red it looked painful. "Anora," he mumbled. "And I rejected. And you can't make me change my mind. Just so you know."
Airam stopped laughing. "Anora?" He looked at Zevran, who nodded, satisfied. There it was again. The spark of outrage in Airam's eyes. Much better than fear and defeat.
"Anora! Dear Maker! But – but surely she couldn't have thought there was any chance you'd say yes? And why in the world would I want to change your mind?!"
"Arl Eamon thinks it would be prudent," Alistair explained. "She's far more experienced in politics than I am."
"She's a traitorous bitch, that's what she is!" Airam flared. He continued, his voice raising with each word. "And even if she wasn't – and if she wasn't Loghain's daughter, and if she wasn't the widow of your late brother, who'd wanted to divorce her – no one has the right to tell you who to marry! I can't believe anyone dared to even suggest it! Haven't you given up enough for the throne already?"
There was a moment of ringing silence. They were not used to seeing him this enraged, or to hearing him swear. In all the time Zevran had been with him, he'd heard him swear once. Maybe twice.
"What?" Airam said, finally aware of their shocked stares. "Don't tell me you disagree!"
"Of course not," Leliana said. They all nodded, smiling.
Airam glanced around again, confused. "Is something wrong?"
"Not anymore," Faren said. "Welcome back, boss."
"It is about time," Sten added.
oOo
Half an hour later, one of the sailors came by to announce they'd be landing shortly. "I must ask you to tie these over your eyes," he said, handing Airam a handful of thick cloth straps, about three inches wide.
Sten crossed his arms. "No."
"Does your captain not trust us?" Wynne asked. "Are we not allies?"
The sailor shrugged. "When it comes to the ship's safety, the Captain doesn't believe her mama. And he's a king, I hear," he he said, tossing his head towards Alistair.
"We'll do it," Airam said before anyone else could protest. He took one of the straps and passed the rest to Sten. "As Wynne says, we're allies. We can trust Isabela," he said firmly.
The Qunari looked as if he wanted to comment, but then changed his mind. Pressing his lips together, he took one of the straps and handed the rest to Faren. Once they all had one tied around their faces, the sailor checked that they couldn't see anything, then led them out onto the deck.
Zevran wasn't overly concerned - he could still orient himself by sound, and if something happened it would take but one second to pull the cloth off. In fact, compared to the Deep Roads, this was a considerable improvement. Still dark, but at least it didn't smell.
Airam didn't seem to share that opinion; Zevran could hear his anxious breathing. He took the boy's hand into his. "I'm right next to you," he said softly so only Airam could hear it. "I won't let go, don't worry." Airam squeezed his hand in reply and his breathing slowed down a bit.
Someone - Isabela, Zevran would guess by how small and gentle the hand on his arm felt - led them to the jolly boats. Airam rested his head on Zevran's shoulder, cuddling against him like a child. Zevran put his arm around Airam, humming softly to calm him down. He wasn't sure who else was in their boat - Alistair, Faren and Oghren were his guess - but neither them nor the sailors gave any hint they'd noticed.
"Finally!" Airam said the moment they landed. "I can't-"
"Don't take it off yet," a sailor's voice cut in. "We'll take you to the meeting place, your friends will pick you up there, and then you can take it off. It's not far, half an hour's walk."
Airam sighed, but complied. Zevran squeezed his hand again. "It is only half an hour longer, yes? Don't worry, I'm here."
They'd walked like that for maybe twenty minutes when Isabela announced they were close. Zevran heard a door opening and they were ushered inside.
"Careful now, there will be a few stairs. Best go one by one and hug the wall," she instructed them.
The stairs weren't steep and there were only six of them; not difficult, under normal circumstances. Which these were not. Airam was not happy about letting Zevran's hand go, and the moment he touched the cold, damp stone wall, his breath quickened. Judging by the sailors' reactions, it seemed he'd gotten stuck on the first or second step, refusing to move on.
"Isabela, I can't do this - not blindfolded - it's, it's like… back there," Zevran heard him say.
"You must-" one of the sailors started, but Isabela's voice cut him off.
"It's fine. We're almost there anyway."
Zevran decided that meant he could take his off as well, and didn't waste one second doing just that. Before any silly sailor could stop him, he ran up the stairs and wrapped an arm around Airam while taking the blasted blindfold off with the other. "Here I am, amore. You are safe."
Airam took a deep breath. "Those walls, the smell - it was like the cell," he muttered.
"You don't need to apologize," Leliana said gently. "Come, we're almost - ah, there they are - look!"
From the other end of the corridor, Shwara, Erwin, and Jowan were running towards them.
"My dear boy!" Shwara boomed, dragging Airam into a bear hug the moment he reached him. "Never scare your old grandpa like that again, you hear me?"
"You're squishing me!" Airam laughed and tried to pull away, but the old man would have none of it. "Silence, you insolent brat. You're lucky to be here after all the silly things you've done," he said in a mock reprimanding tone while he led Airam down the stairs and into the corridor, his arm firmly wrapped around Airam's shoulder. "What in the Void made you to run off like that? To save Anora, of all people. I could understand if she was a young, sexy man, but her?"
Airam tried to explain, but Shwara wasn't really interested in listening - it seemed all he wanted was to make his grandson laugh. In the meantime, Erwin whispered something to Isabela, who nodded.
"We'll be ready." She turned to the rest of them and made a flirtatious little bow. "Until we meet again, Warden."
"Until we meet again," Airam replied. "Thank you, Isabela. I don't know what we-"
"Oh, and Warden?" she cut in. "Stay safe, will you? Having a man brought right into my bed was certainly new, but next time you want to sail my ship, I'd prefer if you were conscious and up to the task." She winked.
"I'll try," he laughed.
"Good. Now please excuse me. Time to do some business, for change!" She gave a sign to her men, and they left, the same way they arrived.
"A moment of your attention, please!" Erwin clapped his hands once they were alone. "We're not in the safehouse yet. Our beloved regent is dying to meet us before the Landsmeet. Especially you, Air - it seems he is gravely offended you left Fort Drakon in such haste. He hasn't stopped combing the city trying to find you, and the closer to the Landsmeet we get, the more frantic his efforts become. The safehouse is not far from here, a mile at most, but your group is too big and conspicuous. I'll cast an illusion spell on Airam, Shwara, Alistair, Sten and Shale, but it will only last for an hour. Alas, even my magic is not limitless. We'll split into three groups and take three different routes: I'll take Shale, Leliana, and Wynne; Shwara will go with Airam, Sten, and Oghren; Jowan will-"
"No," Zevran cut in. He understood and appreciated all the safety measures, he really did, but he would not let Airam out of his sight again.
Erwin and Shwara exchanged a pointed look, which irritated him even more. He crossed his arms.
"It's for the best, son." Shwara let Airam go and took a step closer, lifting his hands soothingly. "I know you want to stay near him - but so does everyone else. Including Loghain. Let's face it: should anything happen, it's your group that's most likely to be attacked. Most of my group will be under the spell - your presence would give us away."
"I want to go with Zev," Airam said, trying hard to sound like a Commander. "I won't let you use him as a decoy! If he's in any danger-"
"Zevran was a Crow," Erwin reminded. "I doubt a handful of Loghain's guards would be any problem for him. Now please follow me - we have everything ready for the spell at the crossroads a little bit further down this corridor."
And before either of them could reply, Erwin turned on his heel and all but fled down the hall, closely followed by Shwara and Jowan. The rest of them unwillingly moved on, too.
The crossroads was only some two hundred yards away; a road from the coast branched there into three more paths, each blocked by a heavy iron gate shimmering with glyphs. Zevran guessed this would be where they separated. He still didn't like the idea, but it was obvious there was nothing he could do, so he decided not to say anything - Airam was anxious enough as it was. Instead he focused on the ritual.
There was a huge triangle painted in lyrium-blue on the ground; inside, there were many complicated glyphs and swirls and lines. Some of them would look cool as a tattoo… maybe he should ask Erwin for a design later. If he didn't copy it all and didn't add lyrium, it should be safe, no? Maybe he could convince Airam to get one, too…
Erwin ushered everyone who was to be enchanted inside the triangle, telling them where to stand and face. Then he, Jowan, and Shwara each stepped onto one point of the triangle and started to chant. One by one, the glyphs on the floor lit up with an eerie, lyrium-blue light – and as they did, those inside the triangle started to morph.
Fascinated and terrified, Zevran watched as Airam sprouted a few inches, his shoulders and arms thickening to twice their normal size, while Shale shrank rapidly, long black locks snaking down her shoulders, and Sten's ears became as long and pointed as a pair of knives. Alistair, on the other hand, changed very little – he still looked very much human, and very much Templar. Carroll, to be precise.
"Jowan is not supposed to walk around without him, and since he's busy elsewhere today, I had this brilliant idea," Erwin explained with a smug grin. "All right. We're good to go - Shwara's group first, then mine, then Jowan's. Morrigan, you know what to do - stay in a bird form, monitor the situation, report to me if anything's wrong. See you all in half an hour."
"Wait." Airam quickly went over to Zevran and gave him a hug. "No matter what they say - don't risk your life for me. I need you alive, Zevvie."
oOo
"I don't get it," Alistair said. "What's wrong with him?"
"Who do you mean?" Zevran asked nonchalantly, as if it wasn't obvious. But he didn't want to talk about it. Not with Alistair, and not now. He continued discreetly scanning the street, ready for a fight at any moment. No sign of city guards. Just a group of elven servants coming from the opposite direction carrying baskets full of groceries.
"Air. One moment he's acting as usual and the next he's… well…griping. "
"He was tortured, that's what happened," Zevran snapped.
"I know he was, but he's gotten through worse than that, and it's all healed now, so why? Why can't he get over it already?"
Jowan, who was walking a few steps in front of them, stopped and turned. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, you have no idea what you're talking about," he said. "Torture is not the same as an injury from a fight. When darkspawn attack you, all they want to do is kill you as quickly as possible. But when someone tortures you… they don't want to kill you. You wish they would. You beg them to do it. And they laugh in your face. What they want is to make you suffer until you've forgotten you used to be human once…"
Alistair's face hardened. "Don't you dare compare it!" he bursted. "You deserved every bit of what they did to you!"
"I never denied that," Jowan replied, taking a small step back as if expecting a blow.
"Loghain thinks the same about you and Airam," Faren pointed out.
One of the elven servants shot a curious glance at them. It was a split second, but enough to give Zevran the creeps. If that wasn't a Crow, he was a mage. "Shut up," he hissed after the women had passed by. "Jowan, keep going but take a detour. And get ready to cast at a moment's notice. Faren, Alistair, stay alert. We might have a flock of birds after us at any moment."
Jowan shot an alarmed look over his shoulder, then nodded and resumed walking as fast as he could without being too suspicious, muttering a spell under his breath. It wasn't more than five minutes before he noticed they were being followed: the elven women now accompanied by several human males in heavy armour.
"Here they are," Faren muttered at the same moment.
Jowan cast the spell and a nasty, reddish-brown aura enveloped him. "It-it's not blood magic," he quickly explained with a nervous glance at Alistair. "Just a miasma spell to make them slower and weaker."
"Who cares." Faren shrugged. "Let's finish them off and go."
Alistair drew his sword and rushed forward.
Blood magic or not, the spell was a huge help, slowing the guards and Crows to a crawl, turning this into a slaughter rather than a fight. It went so smoothly Zevran was a bit worried their righteous Prince Charming might start blaming Jowan again.
"What I said earlier," Alistair said, wiping blood from his sword, avoiding looking at Jowan. "That you deserved it. I'm sorry. It was a stupid thing to say… ."
"There is no need to apologize," Jowan replied, confused. "You have your reasons-"
"So does Loghain," Alistair cut in. "Everyone has their reasons. It doesn't make it right."
Zevran was impressed. A bit. Nothing dramatic that Alistair needed to know about. "Ah, such wise words! Fereldan is a lucky country to have a king like you!" he said with a sarcastic grin that would make Morrigan envious. "And as for Air, don't worry. He will get over it, but it's not something that can be fixed by a few days in bed and a couple of healing potions. It takes time. You can help, too."
"I can? How?"
"Stand by him. No matter what happens at the Landsmeet today, support your Commander, even if he does something strange or unexpected or something you disagree with. Don't argue. Don't yell.
"I'd never do that," Alistair mumbled, his face turning a lovely shade of red.
Ah, it's been too long. Zevran had almost forgotten how cute he was when he blushed like that. "And glad I am to hear that!" he beamed. "I'd have to assassinate you otherwise."
They all laughed as if it was a joke. It wasn't. Anyone that made it difficult for his Warden today would die horribly. Some things were better kept simple, yes?
oOo
Airam grumbled as he finally managed to take a cookie from a tray, only for it to slip out of his bandaged fingers to the floor. With a frustrated huff he got down to pick it up. "Of all the injuries I had, this one is by far the most annoying. I've been cut and stabbed and stung and chewed, and I can tell you that nothing compares to losing a few tiny bits of - what are nails, anyway? Bones?"
When they'd arrived at the safe house, they had been surrounded by a horde of determined maids who'd scrubbed and polished and oiled and perfumed and painted and combed and dressed them until they looked like life-sized porcelain dolls, and none more so than Airam. During that time, they'd had little chance to think or worry about anything.
Then Arl Eamon, Erwin and Leliana had gone over all the points to be discussed at the Landsmeet, the evidence against Loghain, and who needed to say what. Airam had listened, obediently nodding, but Zevran could see his anxiety increasing every moment.
Now, however, they had one last hour before they would have to leave, and there was nothing to do. Except to worry.
Zevran walked over to Airam. He wrapped his arms around him and kissed him. Airam stiffened for a moment, then melted into his touch. "You will be fine," Zevran said, when he broke the kiss. "You will go to the Landsmeet, and you will conquer it. You once asked me to teach you to be an assassin. Well then, this is your test. "
"But I'm not going to kill anyone," Airam pointed out.
"That's why it is a test, no? Do you remember the rules of an assassin?"
Airam nodded. "Never show your fear. Always expected the unexpected."
"And the last one?"
Airam laughed "You made up that one. Always smile, because nothing frustrates your enemies more."
"Tsk, what a wayward apprentice you are! You'll be doing thirty pushups for that when we get back. This is your task: Go there and laugh in their fat, noble faces and frustrate every fool who ever dared to doubt you. And if that doesn't work…"
Airam looked at him expectantly.
"Antivan nobles would pay a fortune for a statue made of enchanted ice."