A/N: Random one-shot, written after my mage romanced Zevran. If I get round to working on the archdemon battle, it might just have another chapter, but until then... this is what I imagine the scenario might be, if a fem! Surana chose to end it with Zevran because she has decided to die. It's my first try at writing romance, admittedly, and I hope it sounds realistic! I apologize for any possible diversion of Zevran's personality.

Disclaimer: Bioware owns Zevran and Dragon Age: Origins. But trust me, I seriously wish Zevran was mine.

This is the last night you'll spend alone,
Look me in the eyes so I know you know,
I'm everywhere you want me to be.
The last night you'll spend alone,
I'll wrap you in my arms and I won't let go,
I'm everything you need me to be.

------The Last Night, Skillet

The Last Night at Redcliffe

There came a knock on the door. Puzzled, Zevran – who had been polishing his two knives – lowered the blades and called, "enter." The door creaked open and the assassin turned, completely unsurprised to see their fearless leader, as Wynne had dubbed her, standing in the doorway. He'd guessed that she would come straight here after Riordan's briefing. The elven mage was still clad in her battle regalia as she eyed him hesitantly.

"Tsk, tsk. You look so very tired, dear," Zevran commented, reaching past her and shutting the door. Then he wrapped his arms around the mage's waist playfully, before catching the glint of seriousness in her eyes. "What bothers you?" he asked, fingering the earring he'd given her after she killed Taliesen – she'd worn it on her right ear upon accepting his gift. Surana seemed particularly uneasy, and her face was tear-streaked. He could only guess that the veteran Grey Warden had something to do with it.

"Zevran..." she began quietly. He liked it when she called his name. It conveyed warmth, love, care – everything she felt about him – and only she could give his name such a fuzzy quality. "I – you – we... we need to end this."

The assassin's smile didn't falter at her words. Before he could come up with a witty answer to her idea of a joke, she rushed on, "I'm not joking, Zevran. I -"

"Do you not love me?" Zevran questioned, meeting her gaze. His smile was gone, and his relaxed demeanor tense, as if preparing for a battle. Surana averted her lurid stare.

"I love you, Zevran," she whispered unhesitatingly, "you're everything I'd ever dreamed of an elven man -"

"Yet you wish to end this?" Even though he hadn't moved an inch, his tone was accusatory, and the hurt showed slightly on his otherwise placid face. "If I wished to kill you, I would have done so on our very first night together. I had so many opportunities: the many times you were wounded; when you trusted me to hold the abominations at bay while you prepared your spells; when we were but two elves, a dwarf and a human against the unknowns of the Deep Trenches. I could have, but I did not. Does all this not prove my loyalty, still?"

"This isn't about your loyalty," she interrupted angrily, "I know you're loyal. I love you and I believe in -"

"Or is it because, after tomorrow's battle comes to its conclusion, you will have no more use of an assassin?" Zevran cut in bitterly, "am I to be tossed aside after you – such a gorgeous woman, I must say – stole my heart?" He didn't know why he was so furious, but this mage had melted all his walls and touched his heart much more deeply than even Rinna had. She had helped him to see that he loved her, and that such a warm, tight emotion was nothing to fear. She felt the same way, she'd said. The idea of being betrayed was agonizing, to say the least. "Was it all a lie, Grey Warden?" He noted – with cruel satisfaction - that she flinched at his formal addressing of her. They'd been calling each other by name for far too long now, if this was her intention. "If so, it was very well-fabricated. I could not have seen through it," he spat sarcastically.

"Zevran..." tears sparkled in her fiery brown eyes; eyes that had captivated him since the day he'd lain with her in her tent. They had dark circles under them now, but it didn't lessen the beauty of her eyes. "Please, listen to me."

Zevran gritted his teeth. It took all that he had to bite back the hateful words that were hanging on the tip of his tongue. The bitterness at her wanting to end this threatened to overthrow any measure of restraint he might have had. "I'm listening," he forced out the words, inclining his head.

"Riordan, he told me why Grey Wardens are needed," she said quietly, not moving from the door. Zevran moved to sit on the bed, still staring at her. She flinched from his unwavering gaze, and it struck him that he might have been too harsh. Despite being an absolute terror on the battlefield, Surana's heart was amazingly frail. For all the devastating spells that she could dish out to an opponent with barely a second's worth of pause in between, she still blushed at almost any smart comment Zevran made. She still smiled – sincerely – when he recited the poem one of his victims had said to him. She'd experienced many hurts in her lifetime, as most elves had. That bitterness had escalated into her betraying Jowan to prove her worth to the Circle of Magi – and also, as Surana later revealed, prevented her from loving Alistair. He was human, for all his quirks and lovable traits. She was elven, and she would never love a human. Zevran knew she saw him as a close friend, however. As long as her heart remained with him, he wouldn't question their friendship.

"We are needed because... when we slay the archdemon, its soul travels through the shared taint to the Grey Warden's soul. And then... it kills the warden. Both die." The words came in a rush, as if she was afraid of losing Zevran's undivided attention. The assassin, however, was studying the curves of her body – curves that he was intimately familiar with. "Zevran, listen!" she exclaimed in exasperation.

"I am listening, my heart," he replied, fixing his icy gaze on her. She could tell he was still fuming, and she sighed.

"One of us – Alistair, Riordan, or I – will have to die tomorrow. And Alistair is king. He can't die."

"And what about Riordan? Couldn't he take the final blow?"

"We don't know for sure if he will be alive to do so," Surana whispered, shrinking against the door. "I don't want to die, but..." she shuddered. Zevran was starting to see the big picture. He rose and strode towards her as she continued with less anxiety than she had before, "Morrigan offered me a way out, a way for all of us to live, by means of a dark ritual. She would bear a child tainted with an old god's soul as the price. But -"

"- you didn't accept it. Why?" Zevran asked quietly.

"I'm a mage. I know better than anyone what such a... a demon, such an abomination, can do. The child would be a mage – Morrigan is one – and it would also have the soul of an old god. Zevran, the archdemon is already a powerful foe on its own. I think that child... could annihilate Thedas if it so wished it. I don't want to be indirectly responsible for that," she whispered. "And also... since I'm a mage, I can own nothing; inherit nothing. There's nothing left for me even if I survive."

"You would be a revered hero," Zevran pointed out, "and you would be with me still."

"I would be," she sighed, "I wish I can be with you. But the hero business... the people might respect and fear me for accomplishing such a feat, but it won't last. Plus, I don't think the Grey Wardens would accept my being leader of their order," she smiled a lopsided smile. Such was the fate of most elves. Zevran sometimes wondered what kept her going, what kept her motivated to end the Blight even though her – their - kind was treated so terribly.

"And as for our... relationship?" he asked, gently guiding her back to the original topic. She had digressed far too much, but she needed it.

Surana studied him intensely, as if drinking in every detail of his features and committing them to memory. "Chances are I will not live to see dawn in tomorrow's battle. I thought, since I will probably die... I should free you to find another woman. I should free your heart, to love another." She reached up and removed the earring, opening Zevran's hand and dropping it – with trembling fingers – into his palm. Then she opened the door, biting her lower lip to stop herself from sobbing. "Goodbye, Zevran."

"Wait." Zevran grabbed her wrist. Being the powerful arcane warrior that she was, Surana could easily wrench her arm free from so loose a grip, but she didn't. Zevran pulled her back into the room, shutting the door and backing her up against the wall. With one hand, he tucked her brown tresses behind her ear and clipped the earring on its tip. Then he tilted her head and pressed his lips to hers. She seemed to melt into his arms then, and as he led her to the bed, he whispered, "I don't care if you're going to die tomorrow. Even if we will only be together for one last night... so be it. I have never regretted loving you, since the day you showed me the meaning of love. I was all yours from that day, and I still am."

He knew she was speechless. He didn't need to see her face to know it. Instead, he simply pushed her – or perhaps she fell – onto the bed and expressed everything words did not, and never could.

xXx

As they lay together, tucked under the linen sheets, Zevran's muscular arm draped over her shoulder and touched her hand. Surana opened her eyes. "Zevran?"

"Hmm?" Good. He hadn't slept yet, not after their fun.

"Promise me something?"

"For you, anything," he murmured sleepily.

"Promise me you'll live a life... for us both."

His arms tensed ever so slightly, and she felt a stab of guilt for bringing the issue up. Zevran had no qualms about dying – he'd made that clear in Orzammar when he laughed at Harrowmont's fear of assassination – but the death of his love was, perhaps, a different matter all together.

"I will." His words rang with conviction.

She snuggled against his chest and fell asleep. Oh, Maker, please. Before tomorrow, please, let us have one last night of peace. One last night... together.