"Oh, thank the Maker! We need help! Bandits have attacked the wagon; please help us!" Is the first thing my merry little group heard on our fifth day of travel to Denerim. The blonde haired woman runs away before allowing any of us to react. Thankfully, Revas and I had prepared the rest of our group for this assassination attempt from the Crows. They were a little confused when we said that we can't exactly tell when it will happen. They tried asking us more questions, but without the screen in front of Revas or I, we will not truly know what will happen. They knew, however, what to expect.

Finding the woman standing in front of Zevran, he motions for his fellow assassins to come out of hiding and get into position to attack. Considering that we knew about the attack, we handled it fairly well. "The Grey Wardens die here!" the tanned elf shouts, drawing his daggers to attack once we make our way into the small hilly clearing. Hearing a creaking from above us, the tree trunk being held up barely begins to fall towards us. All of us dodge out of the way of the mossy trunk. It momentarily takes the breath out of my lungs once my armor plated chest hits the dirt. I get myself off the ground as quickly as possible and reassert myself back into the battle. There is no time to think, no time to ponder the morality of what I am about to do, just try to keep myself and everyone else alive. It was not truly a fight after Zevran went down fairly quickly.

He lays on the ground, his arms and legs sprawled out in a starfish position. It is amusing to see the great assassin Zevran laying on the ground like a ditz. I look over at Sten, "Mind tying him up, big guy?"

Sten merely grunts in response and goes to find some rope while the rest of my part begins looting the barrels and dead bodies. Sten quickly comes back with some rope and binds the elf so that he won't escape. I watch as he ties the handsome elf up. I look at his hair for a tad bit longer than necessary, but I am quite jealous of the way his ashy blonde hair seems to shine in the sun."

It is fifteen minutes later that Zevran wakes up. His eyes squint at the bright sun and groans lightly due to the bruising on his side. My arms are crossed as I stare down at him with a smile on my face. He groans again realizing that he is not dead. The elf has a thick Antivian accent as he finally speaks to us, "You know, I rather thought you'd might kill me. But seeing as you haven't, I assume there is a reason?"

"We had some questions," I responded with a small quip to my voice.

"Oh? So I'm going to be interrogated then? Let me save you some time." Zevran begins before metaphorically spilling his guts, "My name is Zevran. Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivian Crows, who were brought here for the sole purpose of ending any last remaining Grey Wardens." He lets out a forced chuckle, "Which you have seen me fail at, sadly."

"Too bad for you," Alistair mutters from behind me.

"Yes, too bad for me," The tied up elven man looks behind at Alistair before his attention refocuses on me. "Us Crows are rather infamous back where I'm from."

Adalwin snorts under his breath, "For not being good assassins apparently."
I look over my shoulder to see both him and Alistair snickering quietly, Zevran sensing the bark, bites back, "Oh, fine. Is this what you Fereldens do? Mock your prisoners?" A slight pout forms on his full lips and looks up at me, "Such cruelty."

"Loghain sent you, then?" Brali asks, her arms also crossed as she steps forward.
"Yes, that was it. I assume you threaten his power, yes? I am not loyal to him, before you ask. I was contracted to perform a service." Zevran says, interrupting any form of further questioning we can think to come up with. He continues speaking when noticing our silence, "And since I've failed, I should be dead. At least the Crows should be concerned."

"You're pretty chatty for someone who failed their job," I note. He was chatty in the game, but usually due to the character probing. He has just offered any vital information freely and without hesitation.

"I wasn't paid for silence, so why not? Not that I offered it," Zevran states plainly, not hesitating to practically sell out his former crew. He continues on, "Here's the thing. Since I failed to kill you, my life is forfeit no matter what I choose. I go back to the Crows unsuccessful, I die. I try to weasel my way out of the ropes and try to kill you, you set me on fire and I die. I like living and you are the type of thing that puts the Crows on pause. So, let me serve you."

"Do I look royally stupid?" Normally, in the game, I would have easily accepted Zevran within the group, but he is an assassin. He doesn't hold any loyalty towards me or anyone in this camp. Zevran could easily say that he wishes to serve us and finish the job later.

"I think you're royally tough to kill. And utterly gorgeous," He smirks, obviously trying to flirt his way into the group. It works in the way that it gets me flustered, but not flustered enough to just allow him in the group all willy nilly.

I go to respond before he interrupts me again, "Not that I think you'll fall for the simple charms of flattery. However, there are worse things to do in life than serve the whims of a deadly sex goddess."

Now that flusters me beyond belief. I feel my face heat up at his "deadly sex goddess" comment and my brain goes blank for a minute. I stutter out a few syllables until a word finally escapes me, "I… uh… ah… fine."

I can hear Alistair protest behind me, along with a few others. I ignore them and help in untying him. Zevran has both a mischievous and satisfied smile on his face as he lifts himself up to stand as close as possible to me. He grabs my hand and gives it a slight squeeze before I pull my hand away. He steps back and gives a slight bow as he begins his pledge.

"I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you, until such a time you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation… this I swear."

We were a day's walk away from Denerim when we stopped for the night, the almost three week long journey causing blisters on most of our feet. The evening sun setting sets the mood as we all begin to settle in for the evening. It was up to Sten and Leliana to set up all the tents tonight, Morrigan and I had that job last night. Sten would grunt a reply while Leliana's ramblings and attempts to get to know him as they worked. The Orleasian mostly asked questions about his homeland and religion.

After being told who had Asala, he was eager to get it back right away. He disappeared for a full day and then returned with the sword sheathed on his back. There were a few droplets of blood staining his metal armor around the cuffs, so I can only assume what happened. When he saw me, the only thing he did was pat me on the shoulder as he walked past. It took me a while to realize that was his way of thanking me. He began to warm up to me after getting Asala back, asking me questions about Earth and the people there. Like with the others, I eagerly spoke about what Earth was like. And like the others, he was confused.

It was nice being able to talk about Earth. I still missed my friends and family, but it no longer hurt. The aches of deep sadness and longing turned into aches of bittersweet memories. The questions of what happened to my family and what they think happened to me no longer plague my thoughts. I've come to terms that this is my life now and that I must simply deal the hand that's been dealt.

I listen as Wynne complains about how bad Bean smells to me and the whines that emit from Bean while I massage my aching feet. Besides me Alistair and Morrigan stand over the campfire arguing over what is going to be cooked for supper tonight. I crack a smile and look over to see Adalwin and Brali talking quietly amongst themselves. It was odd to me that those two became close as thieves as quickly as they did.

You'd figure that one being from the highest caste and the other the lowest, that they'd have all sorts of arguments. But Adalwin was always empathetic to the plights of what the casteless go through. Apparently, when he was the prince, he was well known among the casteless for trying to convince his father and other deshyrs to consider changing laws surrounding how Orzammar interacts with the casteless. This caused some unpopularity among the nobility class for a while and nearly got him killed. After that, Adalwin had to quiet down on his overt attempts in dealing with the caste system.

I hear rustling from behind me to see that Revas and Zevran, the latter cracking jokes, have returned from hunting with a hind dragging behind them. I had never eaten venison before I came here, too picky to eat anything other than various pastas, chicken, and Mexican foods. And seeing as Ferelden doesn't have most of those things, I'd been forced to expand my diet. So far, venison has become my favorite to eat. The rich flavor, but dry texture of the meat allowed for a more filling meal. I can start to feel my mouth water as I think of the stew that is most likely going to be made. Alistair and Morrigan stop arguing and look at each other. Morrigan begins prepping the broth to make a stew while Alistair sits next to me. I look over at him and give him a half smile, "I don't know why you two argue, it's almost always going to be stew that we make."

"Yes, well, it depends on the type of stew. She wants to make fancy stews while I want to make a good and hearty Ferelden stew," He responds, frustrated with her, in my opinion, superior cooking skills, not that I'd ever tell him that.

I snorted, "Your "Ferelden" stew is grey and made like slush."

"It's how us Fereldens get so strong," He responds playfully before exaggerating the flexing of his arms.

I secretly admire the way his arms flex before teasing back, "And have no good taste."

A mock offended appears on his face, "We have good taste in plenty of things!"

"Like what?"

He smirks playfully and leans down towards me, "In who we choose to woo."

The gates of Denerim stood strong in the late afternoon sun. The high stone walls and wooden gate cast a shadow down on us. As we make our way into the inner city, the lifelessness of outer gates is starkly contrasted with the bustling markets. There were merchants from what seemed nearly every corner of the Thedas at the market all shouting at nobles walking past their booths, commoners and nobles alike went up to the various stalls, glancing at the trinkets that each merchant was selling. Spices, roasting meat and vegetables filled the market air as we began to walk further and further into the city. I could hear Leliana let out an excited squeal and whisper something to Brali about how this reminded her or Orlais' markets. She and Morrigan were the most bewildered on what was happening. When glancing over my shoulder, I could see the overwhelmed looks on their faces. I too was feeling a little overwhelmed with everything that was happening. It almost reminded me of New York City. I remember having to constantly be beside my mother and sister just to make sure none of us got lost. The only thing missing from this is the electronic billboards, sky rises, and the people dressed up in costumes forcing people to take pictures with them.

Out of pure instinct, I grab a hold of the nearest arm to make sure I don't get separated from the group in the chaos of the people pushing past everyone. The feeling is similar to what I felt in New York. The claustrophobia of being trapped between a horde of people and being stuck in foot traffic.

I can tell that most of us look like fish out of water, wide eyed stares or blank stares that hide the overwhelming feeling. I feel a hand clasp over mine and without looking I can tell it's Alistairs. I feel almost like a lost child the way I seem to cling onto him. But it seems I am not the only one that has snagged a partner. Even without physically grabbing onto the other, it seems most of the group thought it best to stick close to one another. The only two that deemed it unnecessary, for obvious reasons, were Sten and Shale.

I shout over the talking to my group, "Let's find an inn!"

I can tell the others appreciate my initiative in getting out of this chaos and we slowly make our way through the crowd and to the nearest end. I constantly turn to make sure everyone is still huddled together. Once we reach the Gnawed Noble tavern, we squeeze our way into it. The tavern is fairly empty, which shocks me a little bit but seeing the hustle and bustle of outside makes me squash that surprise.

The wooden walls are covered in various paintings and sconces giving the room a nice warm glow. There are multiple sofas and tables that line the entryway lead into the open area of the bar. To the left I can hear a fire crackling in the fireplace, filling the room with the smell of burning oak. The air also has a slight smell of ale, no doubt from the large kegs full of it. I let go of Alistair and began walking up to the bar where the innkeeper stands. He is a larger man with dark hair and eyes. He gives me a polite look as I step forward. I can see that his hands are currently cleaning a wooden pint cup.

"Did you need something, serah?" The man asks, looking back down to focus on the cleaning of his mug.

I nod and also watch as he cleans the mug before looking back up at him, "Yes, we need about…" I look over and count how many people are in my party, "five rooms? Preferably with two beds."

He looks up shocked and now I regret being the one to come up and tell him that. He shakes his head, " I get you five rooms, but I only have three rooms with double beds, the others only have one. You could just pay for the extra two beds."

"Ah, the five rooms are fine," I give a conflicted smile before laying down a pouch full of coins, "We're on a budget."

Well, this is going to be fun explaining this.