"Let me get some cookies!" announced the petite woman with a grin, shuffling out of the room.

Morrighan turned after her, mouth open in confusion, but eventually stayed silent. Zevran was still holding Züiya, whose face beamed with sheer joy as she clung to his shoulder.

"Finally, Zevran!"

Dina tried to brush off the strange feeling this joyful reunion stirred in her, though she couldn't shake her discomfort. Not wanting to spoil Zevran's good mood, she smiled as she stepped closer to them.

"Hello, Züiya."

Zevran took Dina's hand. "Züiya, do you remember Dina?"

"I do," Züiya replied, her gaze never leaving Zevran.

"And here are Morrighan and Leliana, my friends."

"Yes, I know; you already mentioned them," Züiya smiled.

Morrighan and Leliana exchanged glances, guessing that Züiya might have overheard their conversation on the porch with the eccentric woman.

"But... you... what happened to you?" Zevran looked over the girl, who had once been barely eight years old but now stood before him as a grown woman.

"Wait... hold on!" Morrighan interrupted, raising a hand. "You... are you the prophet?"

Zevran burst out laughing. "No, Züiya's not a prophet; she's my daughter!"

This revelation seemed even more surprising.

"You have a daughter?" Leliana's eyes widened, glancing between Züiya and Zevran, as though mentally calculating the improbable age difference and not quite arriving at a reassuring conclusion.

"So the prophet is... the colourful lady?" Morrighan's face betrayed her mixed feelings about this idea. She gestured toward the door. "She didn't introduce herself. But... she is of sound mind, isn't she?"

Züiya laughed warmly. "Of course! She's just a bit whimsical. Her name is Chickweed."

"I'm sorry...?" Morrighan leaned forward as if she hadn't heard correctly.

"Chickweed," Züiya repeated with a laugh.

"And... does she have an official name?"

"That's her official name. Chickweed."

Morrighan nodded, though her expression suggested mild resignation. "Oh... I see. Never mind." She waved dismissively. "Zevran, I'm quite curious about your daughter; we'll definitely have a talk, Züiya. But perhaps I should have a word with this... prophet, if no one minds. Coming, Leliana?"

"Sure, go ahead; she's in the kitchen. Her cookies are absolutely delicious!" To Dina, it seemed that Züiya had not only grown physically but had also perfected the art of hospitality. She still remembered the little girl who had once innocently asked, in Dina's presence, whether she was Zevran's wife.

Leliana waved Morrighan along. "Go on, I'll stay here; right now, I'm more interested in Zevran's daughter," she said, smiling warmly at Züiya. The girl looked back at her, smiled slightly, and held her gaze without speaking.

Leliana seemed to hesitate. "Or... maybe I should go see the prophet, too. After all, that's why we came here," she added, laughing awkwardly as she followed Morrighan out.

"That's fine!" Züiya called after them happily, then turned her gaze to Dina. Dina couldn't explain the feeling, but she sensed that Züiya was expecting something from her. Yet Dina didn't move, so they simply stared at each other in silence.

The tension of the moment was broken when Zevran stepped forward, slipped an arm around Dina's shoulder, and drew her closer to both himself and Züiya.

"You remember Dina, don't you?"

"Of course."

"She's my fiancée now," he said, squeezing Dina's shoulder slightly as he looked at her proudly.

Züiya didn't respond immediately, only gazed at Dina for a moment in silence before breaking into a wide smile. Dina, however, was not entirely convinced of its sincerity.

Then Züiya turned her gaze back to Zevran, her eyes sparkling with joy.

"Oh, Zevran, I'm so happy you found me!" She threw her arms around his neck again, prompting him to laugh, though it also made him let go of Dina.

Dina bit her lip and looked away.

Zevran managed to disentangle himself from Züiya, gesturing toward the sofa as an invitation to sit. While Züiya took a seat, Zevran quickly took Dina's hand and pulled her down beside him.

The young woman sat at the edge of the sofa, patting the cushions with a smile, as if expecting Zevran to sit next to her. However, with a kind smile, he seated Dina on the cushion and pulled up a chair for himself, facing both women. When he reached out a hand, Züiya quickly took it, clutching it tightly in both of hers.

Zevran simply smiled at her suddenness, seemingly unbothered, while Dina masked her growing discomfort.

"How did this happen?" he asked, alluding to Züiya's age.

"It doesn't matter. I don't entirely know myself. The important thing is that Chickweed found me."

"Did she subject you to some ritual?" Zevran asked with a frown. "I wouldn't put it past her..."

Züiya laughed. "No, not at all! Chickweed is completely harmless."

Zevran gestured toward the door with his thumb. "So she's really the new prophet?"

Züiya responded with a charming shrug, her palms turned skyward. She looked enchanting, her beautiful, curly hair cascading over her shoulders, her girlish features still somewhat present yet complemented by a feminine grace that radiated as she looked at him.

Zevran took her gesture as confirmation and shook his head in mild disbelief. "She was the one who took you from the orphanage? But why?"

"Yes, she was."

"And why did she create this world, this vivid, colourful bubble?"

"The prophet must be safe," Züiya nodded seriously, though Zevran only murmured his response.

"Ah, so she thought she'd bring company for herself? Hmm..."

Züiya leaned forward, gently gripping Zevran's shoulder as if she might hug him again. "Please, don't be upset with her. She's so kind; I love Chickweed. And I like the colours, and everything here. It's like living in a dream!"

"I thought you'd be adopted by a proper family!" Zevran grumbled, but Züiya only tightened her grip on his hand, looking at him with innocent eyes, which softened his reluctant mutter to a resigned acceptance. "At least you're here. They told me not to look for you at the orphanage; I thought I'd lost you."

"Don't even think that, Zevran," she replied, flashing a charming smile. "Morrighan is very interested in the prophet, and there's so much space here, as many rooms as we need; magic opens up the space for us. Why don't you stay here for a while? Morrighan can learn as much about the prophet as she wants."

Zevran glanced uncertainly at Dina, who neither spoke nor signalled anything.

"Well... I suppose... why not. We can stay for a few days, I imagine."

"Morrighan will be thrilled," Züiya clapped her hands. "And so will I."

"But there's one thing I need to know," Zevran said. "You sent the dreams through Chickweed, didn't you?"

Züiya looked at him blankly. "What dreams?"

Zevran had more questions, but just then, the trio returned, carrying a tray of cookies. Züiya sprang up like a child, offering cookies to everyone and eagerly asking for their opinions without waiting for answers. Soon enough, she targeted Morrighan with a rather direct question about the group staying, to which the dark-haired woman agreed without hesitation.

Dina watched the scene unfold, noting how Züiya's sweet manner seemed to secure whatever she wanted.

Finally, she looked over at Zevran, who was smiling as he bit into a cookie, watching Züiya chat animatedly with the others. When their eyes met, Zevran's expression softened, and he gave her a reassuring nod.

After a brief tour of the upstairs rooms led by Züiya, she allowed each of them to choose a room, then left them for a short while. The rooms upstairs were surprisingly ordinary compared to the ground floor, relatively clean and simple, without the garish decoration.

While Morrighan and Leliana explored their rooms, Dina caught Zevran in the hallway. Perhaps she appeared too serious, as Zevran immediately raised his hands defensively.

"Wait, my love, wait, don't say it, I know...!"

Dina stopped in front of him, looking at him questioningly.

"I know Züiya crosses boundaries; don't scold me. I feel it, too. But please... please be a bit forgiving with her."

Dina pursed her lips, and Zevran gently placed his hands on her shoulders. "After all, she's my daughter, and the last time I went back to Perubia, she was gone from the orphanage. I truly thought I'd lost her. She likely feels the same way now; she's happy that I'm here."

Dina sighed. "Zevran. You know she's not your daughter."

The man nodded in agreement. "I know, I know..."

"And she's a grown woman now. Who knows how, but she is, and she's too old to be clinging to you all the time."

Zevran closed his eyes. "I knooow..."

"Then why do you let her?"

"Because I love her as if she were my daughter, and because..." He hesitated. Dina looked at him, questioning. "Because I owe her."

Dina lowered her head. She fidgeted with her fingers for a moment, then looked up directly into Zevran's eyes. Calmer now, she put her hurt aside and gazed sincerely into his warm brown eyes. "It wasn't your fault."

Zevran remained silent, perhaps not entirely in agreement.

Dina continued. "But regardless, I don't want this responsibility you're taking on to cause pain for you, for me, for both of us. This idea that you can't say 'no' to her is just a self-punishing lie."

Zevran still said nothing, but his expression changed. There was no resistance there.

Dina touched his face, cradling it in her palm, and stood on tiptoe to say it close to his eyes. "Zevran, I love you. I don't blame you, and I beg you, don't blame yourself."

Before he could answer, his gaze shifted suddenly down the hallway to its far end, where Chickweed stood, motionless as a statue.

Dina looked back, then stepped away from Zevran, though she gently ran her hand over his shoulder as she did so. The man started to turn toward her, but instead he sighed and moved forward.