"The Crows send their regards."
-Zevran Arainai

It was pure chaos.

Arrows rained down on them from above, some flaming and some coated with poison. Their mage was merciless, spewing blue bolts of crackling lightning at them at top speed. Enemy blades flew at them from all angles, and the sound of them clashing together rang so loudly and frequently that Cousland was sure he was going deaf from the sound. Both of them had to take several on at a time just to survive, each blocking attacks with such regularity that it became dizzying. Enemies surrounded them in a giant circle, forcing them back to back. They shouted helpful tips to each other, ducking at the appropriate times and taking out each other's opponents to ease the work load for the other. It had been like this at Ostagar, back in the Tower of Ishal, yet somehow that battle seemed much less hopeless than the one they fought with these strange leather-bound rogues.

Then again, something about this battle seemed far more…entertaining. Despite it all, Cousland couldn't help but allow a sick grin of violent fascination onto his features as he pushed against his enemies, gradually destroying the ring they had developed around them. His enemies were starting to become weary, making them that much easier to slay. Alistair, too, began hacking at the rogues with ease, though his features were less amused and more scrunched together in concentration. Eliciting an encouraged battle cry, the blond Warden swung an arc across three of his enemies, effectively causing a thick line of blood to appear on their stomachs. The crimson fluid sprayed at his face.

Cousland drew his sword against one of the duelists' faces, ignoring the horrified cry of his victim as he headed up a slope towards the archers. A sudden explosion triggered by a trap wire sent him tumbling backwards before he could reach them, and blinded him momentarily while the smoke cleared. He coughed as he swung blindly in the air, eyes clenched so tightly they began to water. The random swinging proved useless, especially against the handful of enemies proceeding to kick him while he was still down. His coughing worsened as the wind was blown out of him, and a sickening mixture of blood and vomit gathered in his throat. He kept it down with a painful swallow, denying it access out of his mouth by keeping it closed and focusing on breathing through his nose. Eventually, his sword hit what felt like a leg. Gritting his teeth together in concentration, Cousland tried to aim for another leg, this time slicing the limb clean off. One haunting scream later, the other enemies were scared off and backed away, leaving him a small amount of time to regain his composure.

Elsewhere, the two ladies had climbed atop the log that had trapped the two Wardens. Leliana hopped off to the other side immediately, readying her daggers as she sliced through two rogues simultaneously and headed directly for their mage. The enemy mage sent a lightning bolt towards Leliana, which was brushed off completely as the redhead dodged it. Scowling at her failed attempt, the mage tried for a winter spell, but missed and instead affected one of the dead animals bleeding on the ground. Leliana scoffed mockingly at the failed spell and finally reached the mage herself, stabbing her through the chest with one dagger before cutting her in two with the other.

Atop the moss-spotted log, Morrigan muttered curses between each spell, having just narrowly dodged five arrows already. She had managed to hit several of the rogues in the shoulder, but had caught too much attention from the archers and was faced with a myriad of arrows headed directly for her. Morrigan dodged a sixth one unevenly, a panicked gasp escaping her when she nearly fell over the edge and on her head. She caught herself at first, yet was caught off balance once more when another arrow aimed for her head. That's when she fell backwards and landed on the eerily warm, bloodied ground. Her own blood soon joined the stains in the earth as she laid there, temporarily paralyzed yet luckily hidden by the bush she had fallen behind. Beneath her, she could feel her staff, which was now probably broken in half. Her curses escalated in volume.

Leliana was onto the archers now, though the task was far too easy for her to enjoy it. They barely even noticed her there, blood-stained and armed, as they continued barraging both Morrigan and Alistair with arrows. She sliced through them smoothly, without a fight, and the peculiarity of it all almost made her giggle. The strangeness of that action was too much, however, even for her, and she instead fought the bubbling urge by shoving her dagger through an archer's heart and tossing him over the edge.

Finally, after obtaining a staff from one of the nearby corpses, Morrigan joined Cousland on the opposite side of the area, helping him finish off the very last of the archers. These rogues were far more skilled than the others, and came equipped with their own blades as well. Steel against steel rung out again, magic blasted against magic, and somehow it seemed even louder than the last set of ringing steel. Cousland's muscles burned tiredly, aching in a way he knew was going to hurt the next morning. Regardless, he willed himself to go on, ignoring the sweat stinging his eyes and the ever-familiar stench of fresh blood.

When the last enemy fell, Cousland nearly collapsed with him. He fell to his knees, hands still wrapped around the hilt of his sword as it slowly sunk deeper and deeper into the archer's corpse. It felt as if he was sinking along with it, especially as his body started to become limp against his own blade. Despite his fatigue, his vision was oddly vivid, and the worry laced within Alistair's features was jarringly clear as he ran up to him. "Hey, are you alright? You look pale," Alistair asked, kneeling beside him.

Cousland raised his head to offer a weak smile. "Don't worry about it. Just give me a moment to…rest up, or something," he assured him. Albeit hesitant, the blond nodded and left to check on the others. As he descended down the slope, he took a moment to glance over his shoulder, worry pooling in his eyes. Cousland sensed this, and raised one hand from the hilt of his sword to shoo the other Warden away. Finally, he left.

Then there was silence. Cousland allowed his eyelids to fall completely, taking a moment to block out the world and just listen to the sound of his rapid heartbeat gradually slow itself back to its normal rate. His father had always told him he got excited too easily, told him that he needed to be calmer and less loud. That was probably why he didn't get to join Fergus in battle and was instead left at home. He wasn't sure what he preferred anymore: being with Fergus and not being there on that fateful night in Highever, or being able to stay in Highever only to leave them in the end. Both options sounded equally painful, and he wondered if his brother had heard the news already. He wondered if his brother thought him dead. He wondered if his brother was dead.

But then his strength fully returned, Alistair was calling him down, and he couldn't hide behind the curtain of black his eyelids provided him anymore. Pushing back his morbid thoughts with the task at hand, Cousland straightened and stood, easily plucking his sword from the corpse beneath him as he walked back down.

They were all together now, crowded around the corpse of the mysterious elf that had seemingly set the whole thing up. Upon closer examination, Cousland noticed a bit of color in the rogue's cheeks. "Aw, damn. I thought I killed him," he clucked disappointedly. He squinted at the elf carefully, considering his options. He could tie him up and interrogate him, assuming he would talk. Then again, they could always kill him—perhaps even just leave him there—but either of those options was risky at best.

There was a sound from the blond elf that caught their attention. He was awake, emitting a pained groan. "Mmm…oh, what? I…oh," he grunted, squinting wearily at his captors. It was an effort in vain; no matter how much he peered, they remained figureless blobs. He groaned again. "I rather thought I would wake up dead…or not wake up at all, as the case may be… But, I see you haven't killed me yet."

"That could be easily rectified," Cousland warned him, slightly waving around his sword for emphasis.

"Of that I have no doubt. You are most skilled," Zevran agreed. "If you haven't killed me, however, you must have kept me alive for some purpose, yes?"

"You seem awfully glib for a prisoner," Cousland mused.

The strange elf let out an unexpected chuckle. "It is my way, or so I am told," he replied with a smirk. Cousland recognized the sound of Leliana giggling behind him, and glared accusingly at their captive. He didn't like him already. "Let's see then… I assume you kept me alive to ask me some questions, yes? If so, let me save you some time and get right to the point."

"Please do," Cousland said curtly, jealous irritation clear in his voice.

The elf only offered a wide smile in response to his unexplained anger. "My name is Zevran—Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens…which I have failed at, sadly," he explained.

"I'm rather happy you failed," Cousland chirped disdainfully.

"So would I be, in your shoes. For me, however, it sets a rather poor precedent, doesn't it? Getting captured by a target seems a tad detrimental to one's budding assassin career," he pointed out.

Cousland didn't miss the hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Too bad for you, then," he retorted with equal derision.

The elf sighed. "Yes, it's true. Too bad for me," he agreed halfheartedly, growing bored with their banter.

Sensing a bit of impatience from Alistair, Cousland went straight to the point. "What are the Antivan Crows?" he questioned finally.

Leliana beamed at him. "I can tell you that," she volunteered. Cousland turned to address her, smiling almost as brightly as she was. Her expression immediately turned serious. "They are an order of assassins out of Antiva; very powerful, and renowned for always getting the job done, so to speak. Someone went to great expense to hire this man."

Zevran's voice called their attention back towards him. "Quite right. I'm surprised you haven't heard much of the Crows out here. Back where I come from, we're rather…infamous," he commented, smiling proudly at his own words.

As always, his relaxed attitude never ceased to amaze Cousland. The noble harrumphed. "Not for being good assassins, I see," he noted.

"Oh, fine. Is that what you Fereldens do—mock your prisoners? Such cruelty," Zevran shot back, frowning in what seemed to be the right way to do Cousland's own failed pout.

Said pout failure backtracked. "Wait, you came all the way from Antiva?" he recalled incredulously. "That can't be right...well, unless Alistair's got some dark secret past in Antiva that's come back to get him." Alistair rolled his eyes at Cousland, but otherwise said nothing.

"Not precisely. I was in the neighborhood when the offer came. The Crows get around, you see," Zevran corrected, adding in a bit of a smug smirk.

Despite the assassin's reassurance, Cousland couldn't help but feel that whoever had hired these 'Crows' was someone important. "Who hired you to kill us?" he prodded.

Zevran paused to squint at the sky in some strange hope that the name would eventually pop out at him. "…A rather taciturn fellow in the capital. Loghain, I think his name was…yes, that's it," he decided after a moment.

Alistair and Cousland exchanged knowing glances. "Does that mean you're loyal to him?" the former questioned.

The elf shook his head. "I have no idea what his issues are with you. The usual, I imagine; you threaten his power, yes?" he asked back.

"…Do we?" Cousland muttered to Alistair, who narrowed his eyes at him and shoved him in the shoulder in response. "Ouch, okay, fine! Stupid question."

Zevran chuckled softly at the Wardens and received a warning glare from Cousland. He hid his amusement by continuing. "Beyond that, no, I am not loyal to him. I was contracted to perform a service," he answered.

Cousland crossed his arms. "And now that you've failed that service?" he nudged.

This time, when Zevran chuckled, it was completely expected. "Oh, well, that's between Loghain and the Crows, and between the Crows and myself," he stated as-a-matter-of-factly.

"And between you and me?" Cousland inquired.

Something about his next smile seemed more tentative, as if he were truly realizing the seriousness of his position. "Isn't that what we're establishing now?" he chuckled nervously, eyes suddenly attracted to the blade in his hand.

He ignored the question. "When were you to see him next?" he continued the interrogation.

Eyes lingering on the sharpness of his blade, Zevran replied distractedly, "I wasn't; if I had succeeded, I would have returned home, and the Crows would have informed your Loghain of the results…if he didn't already know." He willed his eyes to return to Cousland's. "If I had failed, I would be dead. Or I should be, at least, as far as the Crows are concerned. No need to see Loghain, then."

Cousland nodded slowly, understanding. "Right, so you're not…" He stopped. "Wait, if you had failed?"

Zevran couldn't suppress the toothy grin on his face. "What can I say, ah? I am an eternal optimist," he admitted. "Although the chances of succeeding at this point seem a bit slim, don't they?" He laughed, more loudly than he had previously laughed, and it died as quickly as it began when he realized the blank stare Cousland was giving him. "…no, I don't suppose you'd find that funny, would you…"

Cousland did let out a small chuckle, despite himself. Zevran grinned at him. Sobering, he quickly covered it up with the next question. "How much were you paid?" he went on.

The look he got from Zevran made him feel as if he were an idiot. "I wasn't paid anything. The Crows, however, were paid quite handsomely, or so I understand," he explained anyway. He shifted the position of his arms, leaning his head against his hand thoughtfully. "Which does make me about as poor as a chantry mouse, come to think of it… Being an Antivan Crow isn't for the ambitious, to be perfectly honest."

Albeit wary of his sudden openness, Cousland couldn't help but become curious because of it. "Then why are you one?" he inquired.

"Well," Zevran sighed tiredly, "aside from a distinct lack of ambition, I suppose it's because I wasn't given much of a choice. The Crows bought me young. I was a bargain, too, or so I'm led to believe… But don't let my sad story influence you. The Crows aren't so bad. They keep one well-supplied—wine, women, men, whatever you happen to fancy." Cousland opted to ignore that last part. "Though, the whole severance package is garbage, let me tell you. If you are considering joining, I'd really think twice about it."

Cousland raised an eyebrow at him. "Err, thanks. I'll take that under advisement," he said.

"You seem like a bright lad. I'm sure you've other options," Zevran assured him, voice becoming wistful.

His sudden solemnity caught the noble off guard. He furrowed his brows at this strange man, becoming confused by his 'sincerity'. "Why are you telling me all this?" he questioned, his puzzlement becoming apparent.

A dubious laugh. "Why not!" he exclaimed. "I wasn't paid for silence. Not that I offered it for sale, precisely."

The man remained an enigma to him. "Were you paid to talk my ear off, then?" Cousland snapped, annoyed by the lack of a clear answer.

"Consider it something I'm throwing in for free," Zevran replied with a sardonic grin. "As it is, if you're done with the interrogation, I have a proposal for you, if you're of a mind."

Cousland hesitated, features hardening with pure contemplation. He looked over his shoulder towards Alistair, seeking approval. He just mouthed out a mute 'I don't know', shrugging helplessly. Finally, he sighed and returned his attention towards the assassin. "I'm listening. Make it quick," he conceded.

Beaming, Zevran cleared his throat. He began, "Well, here's the thing: I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That's how it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will." He stopped, waiting for the Wardens to react. When they didn't, he went on. "Thing is, I like living. And you are obviously the sort to give the Crows pause, so… Let me serve you, instead," he offered.

"Wait, what?" Cousland said, incredulous. "You're kidding… You just finished trying to kill us, and now you want to join us?" The elf remained placid. Cousland sighed. "I take it this sort of thing happens to you a lot?"

Zevran shrugged. "More or less. There's usually less clothing involved," he responded frankly.

The noble disregarded the reply with a disbelieving snort. "Right, so even if I was considering this ridiculous offer," Cousland speculated, "could I expect the same amount of loyalty from you?"

He frowned at the noble's clear use of sarcasm. "I happen to be a very loyal person, up until the point where someone expects me to die for failing," he insisted. Cousland couldn't tell if the elf was kidding or not. "That's not a fault, really, is it…? I mean, unless you're the sort who would do the same thing…in which case I don't come very well recommended, I suppose."

"And what's to stop you from finishing the job later?" Cousland questioned, skeptic.

Zevran shifted. "To be completely honest, I was never given much of a choice regarding joining the Crows. They bought me on the slave market when I was a child," he said.

"So you've said," Cousland added uninterestedly.

The assassin merely grinned at him. "I think I've paid my worth back to them, plus tenfold. The only way out, however, is to sign up with someone they can't touch," he explained. His grin fell as he grew sober again. "Even if I did kill you now, they might just kill me on principle for failing the first time… Honestly, I'd rather take my chances with you."

Finally, it dawned on him that he was completely serious. He sighed. "…You must think I'm royally stupid," he accused, feigning annoyance.

"I think you're royally tough to kill. I'm only hoping that you're stupid," Zevran answered swiftly.

Silence.

Cousland was ready to let Leliana do her worst on him when Zevran hastily added, "That was a joke. L-let me rephrase that: I'm hoping that you're the sort of fellow that takes a chance every now and again, haha…yes?"

He could sense the panicked desperation in the assassin's voice, and the authenticity of it made him uncertain of the decision he had already made in his head. There wasn't any reason to reject him, other than a possible distrust. But he hadn't spoken a single lie since he awoke, as far as Cousland could tell. In fact, he seemed to be a very honest person, albeit a shameless one. And he was fun to talk to…

"Alright, fine. I accept your offer," Cousland decided with a defeated sigh. Everyone, even Zevran, stared at him in complete shock.

Alistair, whose arms had been crossed for most of the questioning, dropped his arms. "What? You're taking the assassin with us now? Does that really seem like a good idea?" he exclaimed.

Cousland waved him off haphazardly. "Don't worry about it. We could use him," he reassured him.

His words failed to ease the senior Warden's exasperation. "We could apparently use a swift kick in the head too, but you don't see me going around asking for one," he grumbled irreverently.

Unaffected by his defiance, Cousland glanced casually over his shoulder at his friend. "Would you like me to do the honors? Because I will, and you won't see it coming," he retorted easily.

Their argument was cut off by Morrigan. "A fine plan. But I would examine my food and drink more carefully from now on if I were you," she commented.

"That's excellent advice for anyone," Zevran quipped.

"Welcome, Zevran. Having an Antivan Crow join us sounds like a fine plan," Leliana greeted with a smile.

"Oh? You are another companion to be, then?" Zevran asked innocently. "I wasn't aware that such loveliness existed amongst adventurers, surely."

Simultaneously, Cousland and Leliana glared at him. "Or maybe not," the latter added shortly.

Cousland the Crow up, choosing to remain in the background as Zevran spoke, "I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation. This, I swear." He bowed his head.

A/N: So yes, this has been edited for two things: Ellie and flowery grammar. I might write Ellie her own solo fic someday, but for now, this is solely Cousland/Alistair's story.

If I can get my camera to work so I can jot down all the dialogue bits needed, I could start up on the tenth chapter today, starting at Honnleath.

As always, thank you for reading and, to anyone who may still have been holding out for an update...you are highly commendable, surely.