This is my 1 shot interpretation of Zevran's betrayal in the game. As far I understand it Zevran doesn't betray you in game if you are in a relationship with him, but it was more fun to write this way. I've played a little with the in game dialogue as well, so this isn't an accurate depiction of what happens when you play, just my version.

Please read and review, this is my first fan fiction and it would be great to have some feedback on whether you guys like it or not.

Syra grimaced as she plucked the few coins hidden in the corpse's back pockets, trying to not get too close to the jugular vein that continued to spasmodically shoot out spurts of blood. Tucking them into the folds of her armour, she stood from her grisly task and checked the whereabouts of her companions.

Fingertips lightly brushed the palm of her hand. Turning a little, she felt rather than saw how close her lover was to her.

"Hi" she whispered.

He gently took her by the shoulders, and turned her to face him. She grinned up at that warm, promising smile that spread slowly across the elf's handsome face. Zevran reached out and crumbled a lock of her hair between her fingertips, loosening the crusts of dried blood that had started to gather within the strands.

"Tsk, you need a bath my dear warden" he muttered, eyes roaming down the curve of her neck to where pale skin disappeared under linked leather plates.

Syra arched an eyebrow at him.

"An excellent suggestion! I assume that you will be there to ensure I am...properly....sponged down?" She chuckled as Zevran's tongue involuntarily darted out between his teeth, and moistened his upper lip in anticipation. Sometimes it was just too easy.

"Hold that thought dear" she whispered, gently taking the elf's earlobe in between her teeth and tugging ever so gently.

"Hey! We got company!" Alistair's voice cracked across the alleyway. Almost a command Syra thought in irony. She was facing the templar, and tried to catch his gaze. His hand was already firmly gripping the pommel of his sword, but what really concerned her, was seeing Morrigan's shadow slip slowly across the sun baked ground. She was moving in preparation for attack, positioning Alistair's plated body in between her and whatever had joined them.

So, not Alistair jumping at rats then.

She shifted her gaze sideways to look at Zevran. His demeanour, in contrast to the concern expressed by her other friends, appeared almost relaxed. They had been very close, but he had taken a large sidestep away from her, creating a gap between their bodies. Enough space to swing a sword in.....

Syra shook her head.

"Talisen"

Her eyes widened at the sound of her lover's voice. She snapped her head round to look at him.

He stood, quite calmly, arms folded, gazing up at the person that stood on the steps above them. Syra turned to face this Talisen. A slightly dishevelled human rogue stood looking down at the party. He was apparently alone, and fairly unremarkable looking. A mischievous smile danced across his face, not unlike the one that Zevran used to have permanently plastered all over his features when he had first joined the group.

The Crows!

The human was not looking at the party at all. His gaze was fixed, fondly, on the Antivan elf that stood in front of him.

"Zevran" he said softly, bowing ever so slightly in reverence

Syra's eyes widened even further when she saw Zevran return the gesture.

"Zevran my friend, come, enough of these games. You can return with me; I do not blame you for your actions. Everyone makes mistakes. Come back, and we'll make up a story."

The two men locked eyes.

Syra's world seemed to slow down. She was vaguely aware of Alistair approaching slowly from behind, the jingle of his plate clanging loudly in her ears. His footsteps seemed to rumble through her body. She felt detached, misplaced, like something had been cut from her. She couldn't feel her hands.....her blades; she must reach her blades.....now!

"I am glad it was you who came Talisen. This makes things, easier."

No!

Morrigan's shrill cry echoed over Alistair's bellow. Out of the corner of her eye Syra saw the broad templar charge at the assassin standing on the steps, oblivious to the sudden appearance of six other crows from the shadows.

Syra's survival instinct kicked in, just as Zevran's sword..the sword that I gave him!...stabbed at her torso. She parried easily, anger surging through her. Through gritted teeth she launched a flurry of attacks at the elf, backing him across the ground as he faltered under her onslaught.

He's isn't trying

No, it wasn't that. He wasn't looking at her. He couldn't look at her, and so could not read her body language to gauge what her next move might be. He was a Crow, he could out duel her any day even with her duellist's training.....

Well, she was dammed if she would forgive him this time.

She brought her sword round in a long arc, aiming to slice deep into his shoulder.

Memories...warm soft skin pressed against hers, the feel of his body pressed against her, how he felt inside of her. Gentle kisses, passionate kisses, understanding kisses. That time when Alistair had brought her to tears after what had happened with Connor....he had been so kind, so careful. He hadn't judged her. He hadn't needed her to be brave all the time. He had let her make mistakes.

Zevran parried the arc with both blades; such was the ferocity of the swing. He left himself open on his left side.

Syrah took the chance. She sunk her dagger deep into the assassin's side, feeling the leather armour buckle under the pressure. Hot red blood began to gush out over her hand.

He had never laughed at her for her ridiculous fear of horses. He always knew when her hair was just about to get in the way and tucked it back behind her ears. He was always there to help her do up that stiff buckle at the back of her breastplate.

She pushed harder, forcing the blade into his body up to the hilt. She felt his body sag, as a bubbled gasp of pain uttered from his lips. She didn't look at him. She felt him fall forward, smearing the blood that flowed freely now from his lips across her hair and shoulder. His blades fell from his hands, which began to flail around her upper body as he tried to find something, anything, to cling onto. She didn't look at him, simply dropped to one knee, one hand still holding the hilt of the dagger buried within his flesh.

Zevran's body collapsed against her. She could hear his ragged breathing, coming out in wet gasps as his lungs filled with blood.

Hi smile, his laughter, his voice, his hands, his body, his face, the touches, the gazes, the promises, the secrets.

"Why?" she hissed.

"Because......my dear"

He lurched in pain as his heart began to palpitate in a desperate attempt to keep blood flowing around the body.

"It was just...too...easy".

With a final bloodied sigh, Zevran died in her arms.

She felt two hands firmly grip her shoulders. Plated hands. Strong hands. Maybe these hands were stronger that hers? Maybe, she didn't have to do this anymore?

"Come on Syrah, Syrah let go, please, let go Syrah"

But, I thought, I thought.....

Healing magics began to flow around her, as Alistair gathered her up in his arms, whispering words that had no meaning anymore.

I thought he loved me....