This was supposed to be a little writing exercise... then Air decided to break my heart. It is related to Airam's backstory - if you don't know it, it's in the oneshot Broken Toys, or in the chapter 22 of Failed to Fail.

Thanks to my dear friend and beta ShebasDawn for her help. :)

The Doll

Airam was sitting on his bed, staring at a carved keepsake box in his lap so intensely he didn't even notice when Zevran opened the door. He reached out his hand as if he wanted to open the lid, but then stopped and let it fall to his side - only to repeat the same motion again a moment later. Zevran frowned. This was unlike his crazy mage.

Zevran walked over and sat next to him. "And what is this? A gift from a secret suitor?" he teased, wrapping his arm around Airam's shoulder.

The boy started. "Zev? What - by the Maker, the training! Maker, I forgot all about it! I'm sorry. I'm coming now."

"Too late. You still have to do one hundred push-ups as a punishment."

"Not that again." Airam groaned. "Seriously, can't you come up with another punishment? Besides, it wasn't my fault. I was about to join you when Grandpa came - and you know what he's like, he never stops talking..."

Yes, Zevran knew that. But he also knew it had never before stopped Airam from training. Quite the contrary, the training was a way to run away from it. He glanced at the box. "Did he give you this?"

Airam nodded. "When he came to Ferelden, after he'd heard what happened, he took most of our things to Rivain. With no one to renew the glyphs, any random poachers or Dalish could find and get into our house and he couldn't bear the idea they'd take and use our personal things… This belonged to Dad. It was on his nightstand and he kept the Important Stuff in it."

Zevran couldn't help chuckling at the way Airam said it. "Like what?"

"How would I know? Us kids were strictly forbidden to enter their bedroom, let alone open this. I always imagined there was something magical, wrapped in red velvet with 'Important Stuff' embroidered in golden letters on it."

They laughed.

"It's odd to have it now," Airam continued. "Even though I know the 'Important Stuff', whatever it was, isn't there anymore, that Grandpa put other things he thought I might want, it still feels like a sacrilege to open it." He looked at Zevran with an embarrassed little smile. "Go on – tell me I'm silly."

Zevran gave him a light chaste kiss instead. No point in saying what the crazy mage knew already, no? "So what is in it?"

Airam opened the lid. "Neria!" He burst into laughter.

"Who?"

Still chuckling, Airam gently lifted a… rag hag? Zevran incredulously took it from him to have a better look at it. The body was made of rags – filled with grain or sand by the feel of it – and dressed in a pea green linen dress; the hair was made of five different shades of brown yarn; the face and two enormous, pointed ears were painted in brightest orange; the eyes were huge blue circles each with three black lines sticking from it, a green smudge was where a nose would normally be, and below it gaped a strawberry-like shape with white dots, which he supposed was the mouth and teeth.

"Neria Surana, the fifth member of our family," Airam said, his eyes dancing with mirth. "And before you say anything, you should know I made her myself."

"You did this?"

"It's easy. I can teach you if you want."

"Definitely. So this was your hobby when you were a child? What other talents are you hiding from me?"

"None, I'm afraid. Mum used to make all our clothes – sewing, knitting, crocheting, she was amazing at everything. They looked good too – no horrible mustard nightgowns, I assure you. We were allowed to use all the scraps for play, and there wasn't that much to do in the forest during the winter months." He shrugged. "I did this for Mellit's fourth birthday. Mum asked her what she wanted, and she said she wanted a sister, but one who'd be older than me. She was so heartbroken when Mum said she couldn't get her that."

"And you made her this?" Zevran held the doll in his outstretched hands and tilted his head. "Hmmm… well, it is… elvenoid. Somewhat. But allow me to say I much prefer the Suranas' white and violet palette."

"Tch. You do not understand high art at all," Airam said haughtily. "But I have to give credit where it's due. The paintwork was done by Mellit. I planned to do it myself and I remember I was rather unhappy with her colour choice and technique… in fact, I almost threw it into the fireplace when I saw it. However, Mellit's protests were so… vociferous and persistent, that Mum convinced me not to do it." His eyes softened as he looked at the doll. "From then on, she always carried her around. She played with her, slept with her, ate with her… when I refused the cake, on my birthday, Neria got it. 'Air is so mean he doesn't deserve a cake anyway, so you have it…' And then I stormed out and – and…" He blinked away the tears that welled in his eyes and turned away.

Zevran returned Neria into the box and put it on the bed behind him. No words could ease Airam's pain and loss, but he could at least hold him tight until he calmed down again.

"Zev?" Airam asked after a while. "Would you… Once this is all over, the Blight and the Archdemon and all….Would you go home with me?"

"It will be an honour," he replied earnestly.

"Thank you. I don't think I could do it alone." Airam pulled away. "In the meantime, there's another thing you could do for me," he said with a smile that didn't quite reached his eyes.

Zevran pretended he hadn't noticed. "No, I'm not forgiving you the push-ups."

"How did you know?!"

"Please." Zevran rolled his eyes and got up. "And it has to be tonight. If you want to have any free time for reading, I suggest starting right now."

With the heavy sigh of a tortured soul, Airam got up and wrapped his arms around Zevran's waist. "You must be the worst boyfriend ever. I don't know why I love you," he declared as he leaned in for a kiss.

"That will not work, either," Zevran teased when they broke it. "Now come on." He half-dragged, half-pulled the pouting Warden out of their room and down to the training yard. A couple of hours of vigorous exercise was the best repellent for the ghosts of past.

He should know.