A.N.: The incredibly creative folk at Bioware own all places and most of the characters (especially the equally yummy Alistair and Zevran).

Revised July 31, 2010, to include Cyril, the bartender, a character I borrowed from Ladyamesindy. See her story The Barkeep Diaries for more on him or any of the others in The Gnawed Noble Community. Thanks for the loan of Cyril, my friend!

Alistair had long since given up trying to follow the bickering of the banns this afternoon. It was six weeks since the ending of the Blight, and nothing seemed to get resolved easily or quickly. These sessions were turning into one long argument after another. He just hoped he had his expression schooled in one of polite interest and attention. As he reached up to rub his throbbing head, another discordant voice joined the background.

He was surprised to hear a strong voice call out, "Enough!" He was even more surprised to realize it was his. With an inner groan, he rose to his feet. Now he had done it; now he would have to address the assembled council. As he left his chair, he had to wait as everyone in the room rose as well.

"My lords and ladies, this council has met everyday unceasingly since the end of the Blight. I think we all can use a break. I'm ending this session for today. Hopefully, we will all be better able to work with this small rest. We will reconvene tomorrow morning." At moments like this, it was good to be king.

"Arl Eamon, I'll be in my chambers if you need me," Alistair said.

"Yes, your Majesty," the arl replied with a slight bow. He and the arl were always correct in public. At least they could drop the formality in private. After all, how formal could you be with the man who used to have you sleep in his stables when you were a child?

As Alistair finally got through the press of people that wanted a word with him and left the council chamber, he felt the rest of his guard fall into place around him. He still wasn't comfortable with all the trappings that went with his new position and always felt silly at times like this. He had crossed the breadth of Ferelden countless times, and now he couldn't even move through the palace without a contingent of guards. It was like a damn Andraste's Day parade.

As they drew near to his rooms, Alistair called to the commander of his guard, "Ser Hugh."

"Yes, your Majesty?" Ser Hugh asked.

"I wish to be alone this afternoon. No guards in my room," Alistair said.

"Sire, that goes against protocol," Ser Hugh argued.

"I know, but I need some time alone. Go ahead and send the men through and then just station them outside the door. They won't be needed."

"Yes, your Majesty," Ser Hugh reluctantly conceded.

Once his rooms were declared "safe," Alistair went in and shut the door, leaving the guards outside in the reception area. With a heavy sigh, he crossed the small meeting room, his private sitting room/study, and walked into his bedroom. He reached up and pulled off the light coronet he had taken to wearing for every day and tossed it lightly on the foot of the bed. Well, at least it was lighter than his plate armor helmet.

Alistair dropped into a chair with dejection in every line of his body and his head in his hands as he tried to rub the ache away. His trio of constant companions of pain, grief, and guilt pressed even harder on his heart. "Maker's breath," he muttered to himself. Six weeks now without her. How was he supposed to get through the future that stretched in front of him knowing she was gone? How could he rule a kingdom when he couldn't even rule himself?

"Alistair," came a soft voice from behind him.

His reflexes honed from all the time on the road, he was out of the chair and moving before he recognized the voice. "Zevran?" he said disbelievingly.

"Yes, your Majesty. It is I," replied Zevran.

"By Andraste's flaming sword, not you too! It's Alistair, just Alistair, … please." He settled back into his chair. "How did you get in here anyway?"

"The day I can't get past those children playing guards outside this room is the day I'm dead," Zevran answered. "I have been watching for an opportunity to see you for about three days now. You are a difficult man to get by himself. I was even considering approaching you in your bath."

"Well, at least we have been both been spared that." Alistair continued to rub his aching head. "So, have the banns all gathered together and offered you a high enough price to get rid of me?" asked Alistair only half jokingly.

"You have no need to worry that I will accept any contract on you-out of respect for a dead friend, shall we say?" Zevran replied.

"Lanie," Alistair whispered as a bolt of fresh pain and grief went through him.

"Yes," said Zevran, "Although you were the only one who could get away with calling her that." Noticing Alistair looking away from him, he continued. "Remember that morning Leliana tried? What was it she said? Ah yes, 'How long do you thing it will take to get to the Frostbacks, Lanie?' I will never forget the look on Elandria's face as she drew herself up and looked down at all of us. 'My name is Elandria. Don't forget it.' And then you said, 'Lanie dear, please pass me the bread.'"

With his emotions more under control, Alistair looked back at Zevran with a slight smile. "Actually, I expected her to throw it at me. I was surprised when she just smiled sweetly and said, 'Of course, my dear,' and handed it to me." Alistair added softly, "We laughed about it that night in our tent."

With a another rub of his head as if to brush off the old memories, Alistair asked, "Well, if you aren't here to kill me, why are you here?"

"After Fort Drakon, Wynne and I went through the few things Elandria had left at camp. The others felt it our right as we were the closest to her," Zevran explained. "After you, of course," he added.

"Yes?" said Alistair questioningly.

"I have something for you," Zevran answered.

"For me? What is it?" Alistair asked in a rush as all thoughts of his headache flew away.

Zevran reached inside the soft shirt he was wearing and drew out a small package wrapped in plain brown paper with "Alistair" written on the outside.

"Wynne and I found this the next day. We were trying to find a way to get it to you, but with everything going on, the time never seemed right. Here," he said as he handed the package to Alistair. "We didn't open it. It's still sealed."

Alistair clutched the package tightly in his hands.

Zevran turned to go. "And now if you will excuse me," he started to say.

"Zev, wait," Alistair said.

Zevran turned back in surprise, "Yes?" he asked questioningly.

"I know we weren't really that close, but please, would you stay?" Alistair asked.

"I would like that. Thank you," Zevran answered.

"Here, sit down," Alistair said pulling up another chair. "It's just that I can't talk about her. No one here has any idea what really happened in the time leading up to the fight with the Archdemon. Wynne is in the council sessions of course, but we can't really talk there. You have no idea how good it is to be able to talk to someone who knows how things were."

Alistair looked down at the small package he held in his hands. He turned it over and carefully opened the paper. It looked like she had sealed it with camp glue. "It's a book," Alistair said turning it over to see the front of it. The Maker: Chants for the Trail he read as he set the wrapping aside.

Zevran looked over at it, "That was Leliana's. I remember seeing her reading from it in camp."

Alistair ran his fingers over the homemade bindings on the side of the book. "She must have given it to Lanie. I don't understand why." Alistair gently opened the book. Right inside the cover, a few pages fell into his hand. "It's a letter," he said after inspecting the pages. "Wait, there's something else in here." He opened the book to the middle where there was a single rose, pressed and dried, brittle now with time. "Oh, Lanie," he breathed. Fresh tears broke out as he touched a single finger to the dried leaves of the once beautiful flower. "The magic must have worn off and the rose faded. I never knew, " he said sadly to himself.

Zevran didn't really understand the significance of the rose, but he figured from Alistair's reaction that it had a meaning. "Would you like to be alone now?" he offered.

"No," Alistair said. "Stay, please."

"As you wish," Zevran said.

Alistair very carefully set aside the book with the rose in the center on the table beside his chair. He picked up the letter and started reading out loud to Zevran.

"27 December 9.31 Dragon

"Dear Alistair: It's a little strange to be sitting here writing this knowing that if you read it, I'll be dead. If I wasn't such a coward, I'd do this in person, but I don't think I could get through it looking into your eyes."

Alistair closed his eyes. Zevran sat waiting patiently.

"Would you mind reading it to me?" Alistair asked Zevran after a few minutes.

"Not at all," Zevran said as he reached his hand out to Alistair for the letter.

Zevran started reading, "First, I wanted you to know how much I love you. You'll never realize how close I was to just giving up that day in Denerim at Arl Eamon's after you left the room. It's only duty that keeps me functioning now. I know you were trying to do what you thought was best for the both of us and Ferelden, but it is hard to face. You must have thought long and hard about the talk we had, even before the Landsmeet. I can see you tried to spare me the worst of it by only mentioning the heir issue, but let there be honesty between us even at the end. We both knew that the fact that I am both elven and a mage would have made a relationship between us impossible for the nobility of Ferelden to accept under any circumstances. It hurts so much to know that no matter what I do I can never be with you. Not because of who I am, but because of what I am, and that I cannot change even if I wanted to."

Zevran paused as Alistair got out of his chair and walked to the window. Alistair stood there with his head bowed, back facing Zevran. "Do you want me to continue?" Zevran asked kindly.

"Yes," came the barely breathed reply.

"Alistair, there is a core of goodness in you that gives you your strength. So many people just see the exterior you put on and dismiss you. I know the strength you have inside, and I know you have it in you to be not just a good king, but a great one. Don't let me down. You have a way of making people want to be better than they are. Use that in the years to come. I know it worked on me."

Zevran peeked over the top of the letter at Alistair. He hadn't moved. He hurriedly continued.

"I'm sure you were thinking that after the Blight has ended I would go back and rebuild the Wardens in Ferelden. I think you forget that I don't have the memories you do. I just have your stories about what it was like before the Blight started. The only Wardens I have met are Duncan, Riordan, and you. I was with Duncan such a short time, just on the journey from the Circle Tower to Ostagar, and I wasn't even a Warden yet, just a recruit. Duncan had no way of knowing if I would even survive the Joining. To me, you are the Grey Wardens. I think it was that day at Flemeth's hut that I began to fall in love with you. You seemed so lost after King Cailan's and Duncan's deaths that I agreed to start this journey. It was your belief in what the Grey Wardens stand for that drove me on. I know most people saw me as the leader of our group, but they never knew where I drew my strength from. Just knowing you were standing at my side was enough.

"Other Wardens will be sent to help you rebuild in Ferelden. You will be too busy to do it yourself, but you will give them all the aid they need to get it done. I know it didn't seem very heroic when it was all happening, but after the stories about 'King Alistair and his companions' fighting the darkspawn and having you declared king, you will probably have to beat prospective recruits off with a stick. Everyone will want to be like you. The rest of us will fade to the background and that is how it should be. The Grey Wardens will survive and prosper in Ferelden whomever is chosen to lead them now. In all honesty, I don't want to face being a Grey Warden without you."

Zevran paused again and looked up at Alistair. He still hadn't moved, so he continued.

"So now we come to the crux of the matter. Someone has to make the sacrifice for the Blight to end if Riordan falls. I just have this feeling that since this Blight arose in Ferelden, it will take a Ferelden Grey Warden to end it. Maybe I'm wrong and tomorrow or the next day I'll be throwing this letter in the fire. Only time will tell, but regardless, Ferelden needs you. I'm expendable."

"But she wasn't expendable," Alistair protested. "At least to me," he added softly. Zevran wisely said nothing. After a moment, Alistair continued, "Go on Zevran, what else did she say?"

"This is my duty to bear. I must admit I had a few selfish moments when Morrigan made her offer and I thought about trying to persuade you to do it. Then, I thought about how you would feel knowing that you had a child somewhere out there that you couldn't find. I know what your upbringing as a royal bastard cost you, and I couldn't ask you to do that to your own child just to save my life. Just as I had to let you go to do your duty, now you must let me go do mine.

"I'm going to have to close this letter now. I can hear Wynne moving around camp. She'll be calling for me shortly as we hope to reach Denerim today. If the worst does happen, don't grieve for me, my love. Be happy. Know I can go to whatever fate has decreed for me with a willing heart because I know you will be safe.

"It's signed 'All my love forever, Lanie,'" Zevran told Alistair as he came to the end of the letter. Zevran looked over at him. Alistair stood still as a statue, immobile now, as if carved out of stone. Zevran waited. As the silence stretched on, Zevran wondered if he should leave. Just as he had about made up his mind to slip quietly out of the room, Alistair broke the silence.

"Can I ask you something?" Alistair asked.

Zevran was quiet for moment. "You may ask, but depending on the question, you may not like my answer," Zevran replied.

"That's fine," Alistair said as he turned away from the window and returned to his seat. "Believe me, these days I get enough of people telling me what they think I want to hear instead of the truth."

"Would you tell me about those final days, after the Landsmeet and before the end?" Alistair asked. "I'd really like to know and this may be my only chance to find out, what she said, what she was thinking."

"Ah," said Zevran. "Let me think a moment."

Alistair sat quietly in the chair intently watching Zevran's face as he stared off into the distance.

After a few moments, Zevran began, "I don't think any of us realized what had happened at first. We were all so busy with leaving the Arl's estate and heading for Redcliffe. I do remember thinking that day that you must have done something stupid as Elandria seemed much colder than usual and you were even more impossible than normal. I expected that by nightfall you two would have kissed and made up.

"I think it only hit all of us that something serious had happened between you that first night when we set up camp. You pitched your tent on one side of the camp with Elandria way on the other side instead of together as you normally did." Zevran continued, "The thing I remember most about that trip now is how quiet it was, with none of the laughter in camp that there normally was. You were spending all your time with that counselor Arl Eamon had sent with you to start instructing you on things you needed to know to be king. That first night I remember you going to your tent as soon as you had finished dinner." Zevran paused as he thought about what to say.

"The rest of us didn't know what to say or do. There were all sort of glances flying around the camp that night as Elandria just sat staring into the fire. Finally, Wynne waved everyone but the two of us away. The others all headed into their tents for the night as I had first watch. Wynne sat on one side of her and I sat on the other. The silence drew out for what seemed like forever, but it couldn't have been more than 15-20 minutes. Finally, Elandria stirred and started to say something, but Wynne reached out, patted her knee, and said, 'That's all right, dear. You don't have to say anything.' Elandria just looked up at her and said, 'Thanks,' and turned her gaze back to the fire. As far as I know, that was it. Nobody ever said anything to her about it, and unless she confided to someone privately, she never told us a word of what happened," Zevran said.

He continued, "Wynne and I tried to be near and help support her. Most nights, she would share my watch with me. Neither one of us would talk. The only time she really spoke those days was for some necessary exchange about travel or the battle ahead. Sometimes, she would just lean against my shoulder as I watched for darkspawn in the darkness. One night I swear she was crying, but I never heard a sound out of her. I know I saw tears running down her face and could feel her body shaking, but there was no sound," Zevran shook his head as he spoke. "Of course, it was a hectic time. We were traveling so hard and fast with the run down to Redcliffe from Denerim and then the forced march back, there wouldn't have been much time for confidences," Zevran concluded.

Zevran looked Alistair in the eyes. "It looks like she kept her confidences for you alone in that letter."

Alistair replied, "She always knew how to keep things to herself. I wasn't sure if she would ever trust me enough to open up, but it eventually happened. She felt so betrayed by Jowan at the tower that it was hard for her to really trust someone too quickly, except for you. I've never understood that."

Zevran said, "Neither did I, but I'm glad she did. Having her for my first friend changed me. It took me a long time to figure out it was for the better." He was quiet for a moment or two before continuing. "I almost did kill her later on," he dropped into the conversation. "I had every intention of doing so."

"What!" exclaimed Alistair. "I never knew that!"

"Yes, it was one evening not too long after I joined you. I had followed Elandria out of camp and was moving up behind her when I tripped and she heard me. Do you know how long it has been since I have tripped when making a strike?" asked Zevran.

"A long time, I assume," said Alistair.

A very long time," continued Zevran. "Anyway, when I tripped, Elandria turned and just looked at me. She didn't make any effort to defend herself or to try to talk me out of it. She just stood there waiting for me to move. I had my dagger in my hand. Just one little thrust and it all would have been over. She just looked at me with such an expression in her eyes; I still can't explain that look. Whatever it was, I just couldn't do it. I don't know why, but I put the dagger away and headed back to camp," said Zevran. "When she returned, she sat down beside me. She treated me like nothing had ever happened. That was the night I knew my allegiance had truly changed from the Crows to my beautiful Grey Warden," said Zevran.

"She never told me," said Alistair.

"There was one morning when we were all sitting around waiting to break camp that I particularly remember. Elandria was still in her tent. You were off doing whatever it was you were doing those days, certainly not sitting around camp with the rest of us."

"No," Alistair agreed. "I wasn't up to being very sociable."

"Anyway, we were all sitting there when suddenly Leliana jumps up and says, 'I can't stand this. I'm going to go talk to him.' Wynne told her to sit back down. When Leliana asked why, Wynne told her that this wasn't any easier on you than it was on Elandria and that some things just couldn't be fixed. Wynne told Leliana to remember that a few short days ago you were just an ordinary Grey Warden with the woman you loved at your side, and now you had to assume a role you neither sought nor desired that forced you to give up everything you had been to that point in your life and that she should just let you be. Leliana sat back down, but I think it frustrated all of us that there was nothing we could do."

"Wynne was right," Alistair said. "There was just so much that happened in such a short time that I was totally overwhelmed. I just couldn't keep up a front in camp like nothing had changed."

"No, I don't suppose you could have," Zevran agreed sadly.

"The worst part is Lanie and I did this to ourselves. She pushed me to take the throne, and I agreed when it was the last thing we both wanted. I just couldn't let Anora have it. There is too much of Loghain in her, like how she turned on us at the Landsmeet," Alistair said as he left his chair and began pacing the room. "I know she did a lot of the ruling under Cailan; Maker's breath, everybody knew that. Arl Eamon was the one who told me how Cailan would rein her in, though. How when she started pushing too far out of line favoring one extreme faction or another, he would put a stop to it. How could I let her take sole control of Ferelden with no one able to contain her? And there was no way I was marrying her, I mean, what's the creepiness value of marrying your brother's widow?"

Alistair headed toward the window. He stood there for a minute gazing sightlessly out the window. "You want to know what I think at night? What I lie in bed and ask myself over and over with no answer to be found?" Alistair asked after a few minutes as he stood still staring out the window.

"What?" asked Zevran.

"Did I cause her death? Did I kill the woman I love because of my actions in breaking off with her at the end of the Landsmeet? Is that what really influenced her decision with Morrigan?" Alistair hurriedly continued," You know, she didn't even give me a choice. I didn't find out about it until she told all of us about it the next day in explaining Morrigan's absence. I was so angry at the time that she made that decision without me."

"Oh, and what would your decision have been?" Zevran asked.

Alistair turned back to Zevran, "Honestly now, I don't know. So much has happened, it's hard to put myself back to that time. I'd like to tell myself that I would have done anything to save her, but she's right, the price would have been high. I swore all my life that I would never have a bastard child because I knew what it was like to be one, with all the slights and the hurts. It was just easier to be mad at her because she left me no choice. With the added fact of releasing an old god's soul on the world, I really don't know what I would have done."

Zevran said, "Elandria always could make the difficult choices. I am sure she thought it was her choice to make as she had decided she would strike the blow if Riordan could not."

"That's another thing that torments me," Alistair admitted. "I still can't believe she left me at the gates like that. Me!" he said indignantly as he agitatedly ran a hand through his short hair.

Zevran just shook his head, "Alistair, think for a moment. Afterwards, you made all those nice speeches about how she did what she did to save Ferelden. You and I both know that was a lie. She did it to save you. Since the day she spared my life and allowed me to stay, she never went out for a fight without you. Then suddenly, fighting the Archdemon, she leaves you behind and takes Shale. Coincidence? I think not. She was afraid you wouldn't let her make that final blow, and that you would do it yourself."

"You're right. I know you're right," Alistair said. "But, it still doesn't make it any easier."

"Now, as to your question of did you kill her; no, the Archdemon did that. If her decision with Morrigan would have been different if you had waited to end things with her is something I cannot say. Neither of us can."

"I guess that is certainly true enough," Alistair said.

"Since we are being honest here, there is something I would add," said Zevran.

"Go ahead," Alistair said.

"I have been hearing tales of unrest within the Bannorn. There are those who are starting to grumble that they were too hasty in taking the word of a Grey Warden in selecting the ruler of Ferelden. That perhaps Ferelden would be better served with a queen instead of a king."

"What?" said Alistair disbelievingly. "Are they kidding? After what her father had done?" Alistair stood there with his mouth hanging open for a minute in surprise, "And how do you know this?"

Zevran sighed again, even heavier than before. "Alistair, people are still afraid. They want a strong leader in charge. In your grief, you have been flailing around, just going through the motions, and taking the path of least resistance. The people who don't know the whole story do not understand, and they think you are weak and that they have made a mistake. There is a faction who hopes to control you who are pleased by this. As to how I know this, an assassin's best friend, besides poison of course, is information. I have contacts in many areas of the city."

Alistair just shook his head in disgust. "Vultures, that's what they are, ready to take advantage of anyone."

"Exactly," agreed Zevran, "And who is the one that is supposed to protect the people from those that would abuse them?" asked Zevran.

"That would be me," Alistair said. "Point taken."

"And now, my friend, it is time for me to take my leave. I thank you for your trust in allowing me to know the contents of Elandria's letter. Honor her sacrifice. Be the king she knew you could be and that she died to make you. Farewell, my friend. I do not know when we shall meet again, but take care." With those words, Zevran rose from the chair and headed towards the window he came in.

"Maker keep you too, Zevran. Thanks for bringing me her letter and for being there for her when I couldn't," Alistair said.

"You're most welcome, but I didn't do it for you," Zevran answered.

"Yeah, I get that," Alistair said. "Zevran, you don't have to go out the window. You can just walk out the door."

"And damage my reputation?" Zevran scoffed as if offended. "I think not."

Alistair just shook his head and smiled. He found it easier to do now. Yes, the letter from Lanie and his talk with Zevran had been good for him. He reached out and picked up the letter to read it again for himself. It had healed something inside of him to know that despite all that happened that Lanie had still had faith in him. Maybe he could be the king she had thought him. It couldn't hurt to try, could it?

"One last thing," Zevran's voice came floating back to him. "I wasn't going to tell you, but I thought you would like to know. I swear I heard her call your name as she made that last strike at the Archdemon."

Zevran looked to the sky to check the sun's position as he hurried through the streets of Denerim. He had to hurry. He was going to be late for his meeting with Wynne at the Gnawed Noble. Wynne was surprised how fast the Noble was up and running after the attack on Denerim, but it didn't surprise him one bit that a tavern would be one of the first businesses to re-open.

Zevran entered the establishment and saw Cyril at the bar. He made his way through the crowd so he could speak to the man.

"Hello, Cyril," Zevran said in his melodic voice.

Cyril nodded to him, pointed down the hall, and said, "She's waiting for you. Same room as before."

Zevran thanked him and moved rapidly through the customers to the room where they had met Master Ignacio so many times in the not-so-distant past. "Sorry I'm late," he said breathlessly as he entered.

"It's fine, Zevran. I haven't been here that long. I've just been sitting here enjoying Cyril's fine beer," Wynne replied. "Here's yours," she added as she pushed a mug across the table to him."

"Ah, my thanks," Zevran said as he sat down and took a large swallow.

"Well, how did it go?" Wynne asked expectantly.

"Honestly, it went much better than I expected. I found him alone in his room after he left the council rooms and I talked with you. He let me stay and read the letter Elandria had written and we talked."

"You and Alistair?" Wynne asked questioningly with a raised eyebrow. "This should be good."

"Actually, it was very good," Zevran said a little bit put out at Wynne's comment and then lifted his mug for another drink.

"So, what was in the package besides the letter?" Wynne asked.

"It was a book with a pressed rose inside," Zevran said.

"The rose. Of course," said Wynne.

"You knew about the rose?" Zevran asked.

"Yes, Alistair gave it to her before you joined us. She told me all about it. It was so romantic," Wynne said with a sigh.

Alistair, romantic? Zevran thought, but wisely kept it to himself.

"So, what did Elandria say in her letter?" Wynne asked eagerly.

"Yes, her letter," Zevran breathed. "It was beautiful, Wynne, a work of art. Full of her love for him with just enough kick in the pants to get him moving."

"Zevran!" Wynne protested.

"What? It's true," he said. "You know he needed one. After just attending a funeral for one friend, I am not in a hurry to attend another one. Dispossessed kings tend not to live long you know." After seeing the glare she threw at him, he continued, "Fine. Let me see if I can remember it." He then proceeded to repeat the letter's contents to Wynne.

"Elandria knew him so well. She knew the guilt would tear him up inside and make him question himself. It's good for Alistair to have something of her that affirms her faith in him. I hope it helps to comfort him," Wynne said. "So, what did you talk about?"

"He wanted to know about Elandria on the trips between Denerim and Redcliffe," Zevran answered.

"Ah," Wynne's face grew pinched with memory. "Those weren't good times."

"No, they were not, not for any of us," Zevran agreed. "I think it helped him to hear it though. I also pushed him hard about his actions these past weeks."

"Zevran, what did you say?" Wynne asked with a small glare at him.

"Wynne, I just don't understand why you get so upset with me. I told him about some of the rumblings in the Bannorn. Oh, I also told him to honor Elandria's sacrifice and to be the king she knew he could be and that she died to make him."

Wynne was silent for a moment, but the line between her eyes smoothed away. "Zevran, I'm impressed. That was actually quite good."

"I don't know why you are so surprised, my darling Wynne. You know what a silver-tongued devil I am. Anyway, I am hoping you and the Bannorn will see a different 'King Alistair' tomorrow at the council session," Zevran said.

"Ah, yes," said Wynne as she held her mug up in a toast. "From your lips to the Maker's ears."

Zevran clicked his mug against hers, and they were both quiet for a few minutes as they mulled over the events of the day and enjoyed their beer.

Zevran finally broke the silence with a big sigh, "Wynne, what with all this sneaking around the palace delivering packages and having to relive all the memories again, I find my head hurts. May I rest it on your bosom?"

"ZEVRAN!" Wynne shrieked.