A new year. Alim clutched at the rigging of the ship as it rode the rough waves. He was untroubled by seasickness thanks to a soothing combination of healing magic that he'd shared with a few of the crew, but his heart was heavy nonetheless.

Weisshaupt had ordered him back to Ferelden after their debriefing, to take over the wardens in Amaranthine. He'd sidetripped to Antiva as they'd agreed - but Zevran had been nowhere to be found.

Alim pinched the bridge of his nose and cursed circumstance. He'd been happy enough, accepting the position Weisshaupt had given him (for all they weren't pleased with the fact that he was still alive - or the way he'd managed to sidestep that little clause in the grey warden handbook) when he'd thought Zev would be with him, but now the prospect was lonely and painful and... really what he wanted to do was jump ship and swim back to Antiva and hunt the bastard down and make him explain why he'd skipped out on their rendezvous.

He touched his lips, remembering too many things - the brush of Zevran's against them, the scent of the man, leather and soap and the tang of sweat.

He felt the tear gather at the edge of his eye and shook his head angrily.

There were two possibilities, and Alim wasn't sure which was worse. The first - that the Crows had managed to kill him.. the second, that Zev, never one to be tied down by feelings, had simply decided Alim wasn't worth the effort. Or had never thought he was.

Alim pushed away from the rigging and made his way back into the bowels of the ship. He was Commander of the Grey in Ferelden. He would find compensations there. Arl of Amaranthine too - that had to be worth something.

There was always fun to be had. Something else he had learned from Zev...

He sat on the bunk, renewing his spell and letting the soothing hum of the magic drown out his thoughts. But the voice inside him could never be completely silenced.

Maker curse you. I loved you.

Why couldn't you just have killed me?