Consciousness came to him slowly, accompanied by the tang of blood in his gritty mouth. He tried to swallow but his throat was simply too dry and it refused to cooperate. Pain lanced through his side with every breath he took as if he were being stabbed with a vicious knife over and over. His right shoulder felt completely wrong, probably dislocated. Ignoring the terrible pain, he pushed himself into a squatting position and opened his eyes.

Smoke and dust swirled everywhere across the roof of Fort Drakon. It was eerily silent, although he could hear the sounds of battle far below in the streets of Denerim. He quickly scanned the sprawled corpse of the Archdemon, a greatsword still protruding from its head. Nearby lay the crumpled body he sought, its lifeless form diminutive compared to the monstrosity next to it.

No.

His mind struggled to comprehend what his eyes were seeing, and he didn't notice the tears that spilled down his grimy cheeks.

No.

All the things he had done, all the plans he had wrought, and still he had failed?

No.

What was left of his strength waned and his trembling arms gave out. He closed his eyes and let his body sink against the cold, rough stone.

If you cannot stay here with me, then I will go with you, mi amor.

He let his body go slack and embraced the pain. The end would be much quicker if he didn't fight it. He released his mind and drifted toward the blackness that waited.

"Zevran!" A frantic hand was shaking him, causing him to convulse with the additional pain it caused.

"Zevran, please! Wake up!"

Leliana. Unwillingly, his mind put a name to the sweet voice, now strained with anxiety. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and turned his head to regard her with bitterness. Can I not be allowed to follow my Ember in peace?

Her lovely face was smudged with dirt and ash, and her eyes were wild with fear.

"Zevran, we need your help! Oghren is too injured to carry her!"

The words seemed to come from far away, echoing down a long corridor to smash against the despair of his mind. He forced his dry throat to work.

"Carry who?" His usually smooth voice was rough and gravelly.

"Emberlin! Zev, she's still alive!"

Despair shattered and hope climbed desperately from the depths of his being. Alive. Then there was still a chance, a single star still shining in his night sky.

Gritting his teeth against the searing pain, he struggled to his feet. A wave of agony shuddered through his body, and he felt Leliana's steady hand on his back.

"Maker, Zev, you may be as badly injured as Oghren…"

"No matter," he rasped. "Take me to her."

Zevran leaned on Leliana as they approached the still body next to the dragon. Wynne was hunched over Emberlin, a blue glow emanating from her hands as she moved them slowly over Ember's shattered form. Oghren stood next to her, his hand pressed tight over a crimson stain spreading over his abdomen. His face was wracked with pain, but he managed a weak grin as he saw Zevran limping toward them. Wynne glanced up briefly and then returned her attention to Emberlin.

"She's in bad shape, Zevran, but she's still alive. We need to get her out of here and somewhere safe, somewhere I can work on her without distraction. Can you carry her?"

"Of course." He was well aware that his injuries were severe in their own right, but he shoved his pain aside with practiced ease. This was where his brutal training as a Crow would be of some use. One thing he knew well was how to ignore pain and keep going.

He couldn't repress a gasp of pain, however, as he bent over to cradle Emberlin in his arms. Her weight pulled at his dislocated shoulder and he grunted, almost staggering. Immediately, Leliana was at his side, helping him to lift her. The pain receded slightly once he had straightened, and he held her closely to his chest although each breath tore through him like a serrated blade. He carefully shifted her so that his good arm supported most of her weight. Wynne hovered at his side checking his wounds.

"Zevran, I had no idea that you were so badly injured. Maybe we should stop for a minute and…"

"No. I am fine, I assure you. Please, let's get Ember to safety."

Leliana lead the way back down the tower and out into the streets of Denerim. Everywhere they looked, the city was in flames and the dead littered the ground. A group of Dalish elves was finishing off what was left of the darkspawn at the entrance of Fort Drakon. When they saw the companions emerge, they let out a cheer of victory, brandishing their elegant bows above their heads. Leliana responded with forced cheer, waving at them in thanks. As the elves drew near, they noticed the limp body in Zevran's arms and a hush fell. One of the elves, who appeared to be the leader, approached somberly.

"The Warden? She is dead?"

"No," replied Wynne. "But she is gravely injured. We must get her somewhere safe quickly."

"Then we shall get you there." He bowed. "Come."

The elves surrounded the companions protectively, and they began to move swiftly down the streets. Few darkspawn appeared, but those who were spotted were quickly dispatched with the Dalish's deadly arrows. When they reached the Palace, they came across a group of soldiers from Redcliffe. The soldiers greeted them with high spirits.

"Did you see the Archdemon fall atop the Fort? We have won!" The cheerful lieutenant raised his sword in salute. Oghren grunted as he pushed forward through the elves.

"The Warden killed it, but she is near death! Is there anywhere we can take her?"

The lieutenant's face turned grim as he noticed Zevran's burden. "Arl Eamon's estate is untouched, the last I heard. Come, and we'll take you there."

Zevran remembered little of the rest of the journey through the streets of Denerim. The pain threatened to engulf him, but he kept it at bay by focusing on the broken body in his arms.

Just a little longer, mi querida. Be strong for me.

He barely even noticed when they finally arrived at the Arl's estate, as his attention was solely occupied with keeping his legs moving. The companions were quickly ushered to a small bedroom by the Arl's servants, and Zevran gently lowered Emberlin to the bed with relief. Leliana watched him with concern as he staggered to a nearby chair and collapsed. His face had turned pale beneath his tan and he was gasping in short ragged breaths, but his eyes were still clear and focused intently on Emberlin.

"Leliana, fetch me as much lyrium as you can find. I'll be utilizing much of my mana to heal," instructed Wynne tersely.

Leliana disappeared without a word and returned shortly with a box of lyrium vials. Wynne nodded her thanks.

"I know you both are concerned about her, but it would be best for you both to leave. I cannot afford any distractions."

"I will not distract you," replied Zevran. "I'm not leaving." His tone brooked no argument, and the fire in his amber eyes gave Wynne pause.

"Zevran, you are badly wounded also," protested Leliana. "Let me take you to another healer."

"My dear Leliana, I am used to enduring for an extended time in an injured state. Emberlin is in more grave danger than I am. Please, Wynne, continue your work."

Leliana left reluctantly and Wynne turned back to Emberlin. Her hands moved slowly over the mage's body, and a blue glow enveloped Emberlin. She looked so pale and fragile that Zevran feared that he might yet lose her to the Maker. He watched anxiously while Wynne murmured soft chants with her eyes closed in concentration.

Time passed with agonized slowness. Zevran's breathing grew more ragged as the pain in his side increased, but he remained quiet while Wynne continued to heal the Warden. Just as grayness began to steal over his dwindling consciousness, Wynne stood wearily, gripping the bed for support.

"I have done what I can. Now we can only wait and pray that the Maker will be merciful."

Grasping at what strength he still had, Zevran managed to move to the bed and sit beside Emberlin. Her face was bloodless and her hair lay tangled in a dark cloud on the pillow. He reached out with a trembling hand to brush back a stray tendril and laid his head on her chest.

"Thank you, Wynne. Whatever… disagreements we may have had… you have my heartfelt gratitude."

The elderly mage's voice was unusually soft. "Do you think I do not know that you love her? I may be late in realizing your somewhat dubious virtues, but I do not doubt that you would do anything to protect her."

Zevran opened his mouth to reply, but the blackness he had been holding at bay crept over his vision, and he succumbed to the mercy of unconsciousness at last.

The blackness surrounded him like the ocean and he floated for a time, blissfully aware of nothing. Occasionally, voices drifted through the water and lapped at his mind, but as soon as he tried to focus on them, they swam away with the current. There was no pain here, no sensation at all. This bothered him because he knew there was something he wanted to feel, wanted to feel very badly, in fact. After a while, this need became an urgency he couldn't ignore. He turned his head and saw brightness beyond the ripples of the surface, and gathering his strength, he swam up towards the beckoning light.

Opening his eyes, the first thing he became aware of were the tight bandages around his chest. It was still painful to breathe, but not nearly as much as before. His injured shoulder was also swathed in dressings, but the bones no longer felt displaced. Every part of his body ached, but it wasn't anything he couldn't tolerate.

The room was dark, dimly lit only by the flickering fire in the hearth. He was lying on a bed, clothed only in loose trousers. Turning his head, he found himself face to face with a mass of luxurious dark, wavy hair. Emberlin. He pushed himself up onto his good arm and gazed down at her anxiously. Her face held more color and she was breathing easily.

"She's going to be fine."

Zevran looked over to the fireplace where Alistair sat quietly in a chair.

"Wynne was successful then?" His voice was hoarse and he struggled to swallow. Alistair stood and brought him a cup.

"Here, drink this. It's a tea Wynne made to help you feel better."

Zevran sipped the bitter liquid cautiously. He tasted nothing alarming and drained the cup, grateful for the wetness against his parched throat. Alistair settled back in the chair.

"Yes, Wynne exhausted herself, but she healed both of you. She decided to leave you here with Emberlin because she knew you wouldn't stay put in any other bed." Alistair chuckled softly.

"She's right." Zevran smiled and then grimaced as a pain shot through his side. He lay back down and pressed a hand against his chest.

"You've got some broken ribs, but they will mend. Oghren was in worse shape; he took a blade to his stomach. The magi healed him though, and he'll live to drink himself to death." Alistair gazed at him thoughtfully. "It seems that Morrigan was right, doesn't it?"

Zevran nodded. "Yes, the witch was obviously telling the truth, and for that I am grateful." He met Alistair's gaze. "Was it terrible?"

Alistair flushed and stared into the fire. "Well, it wasn't what I imagined my first time would be like, but it really wasn't so bad. Morrigan was… nice about it. I wasn't expecting that."

"I know that what I asked was difficult for you, Alistair. Please know that I am truly appreciative."

The warrior shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "I knew she wouldn't let me go with her to kill the Archdemon, and I was right." He sighed. "She always sacrifices herself before everyone else. Morrigan's ritual seemed the best way to save her."

"I assume the witch is gone, yes?"

"No one has seen her since last night. She got what she wanted, and we got what we wanted, I guess."

Zevran closed his eyes and felt sleep creeping back. Wynne had probably slipped a sedative into the tea. "Go rest, Alistair. I am here to keep watch over Emberlin."

Alistair stood and opened the door. "If you need anything, just yell. There are servants hovering all over the place. Anora sent them." He shook his head wryly, his distaste for the Queen still evident.

Zevran rolled to his side and placed a protective arm around Emberlin's waist. He rested his head against the soft skin of her shoulder and let her rhythmic breathing lull him back to sleep.

How strange, she thought. I didn't expect life after death to look so… ordinary. Yet when she opened her eyes, she found herself lying in a bed in a simple room adorned with only a chair and a fireplace. Her body felt like an ogre had repeatedly thrown her against the wall. So if you die a painful death, it follows you to the other side of the Fade? Then she became aware of an arm draped lightly over her hip and slowly turned over to see very familiar amber eyes looking back at her.

Her eyes filled with tears and she hesitantly reached out to touch his cheek.

"If this is truly death, then I wish to stay here forever."

Zevran placed his hand over hers. "You are not dead, mi amor. I assure you that you are very much alive."

Confusion swept over her face, followed by horror. "Then… I failed? The Archdemon lives?"

He shook his head and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "No, no. You killed it, Ember. The Blight is over."

"But… how?"

He took a deep breath. "I am sorry querida, but I could not allow you to needlessly throw away your life, so I took precautions."

She stared at him. "Zevran, what did you do?"

He ran his fingers lightly up and down her arm to calm her. "I must confess that I did some eavesdropping when you were meeting with Riordan and Alistair. When you left and went to your room, I followed you and listened to your conversation with Morrigan as well."

Her eyes widened in shock, then narrowed. "You spied on me?"

"I was worried for you, my lovely Ember. I am sorry if it upsets you, but I do not regret doing it because you would be dead if I hadn't."

"But I refused Morrigan's offer!"

"Sì, you did. But I pulled her aside after she left you and said that I would talk to Alistair. She waited while I discussed the situation with Alistair, and he agreed to her… hmm… suggestion."

"Oh, Zev! I didn't want to put Alistair through that!"

He caressed her cheek gently. "My dear, I wouldn't have forced him if he had refused. He was afraid for you because he knew that you would try to perform the final blow. He said that one night with Morrigan was a small price to pay if it would guarantee your life."

"I can't believe that you both did this for me." Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. "But if you knew everything would be okay, why did you attempt to kill the dragon for me?"

"I knew from Morrigan that the old god's soul wouldn't kill you since it would not be entering your body. But that did not mean you could not be mortally wounded physically. Since the old god's soul didn't need a Warden to host it, I decided to kill the dragon myself so that you would not be injured." He gave a rueful grimace. "I failed, of course. A certain beautiful mage paralyzed me before I could finish the deed." He reached out and wiped her tears with his fingers. "Mi amor, don't cry. It is over at last."

She buried her face in his chest. "I don't know whether to kiss you or kill you for eavesdropping and disobeying me."

He lowered his face to her hair and breathed in its herbal scent. "If you decide to kill me, I would ask that you please kiss me first, querida. That way I can die a happy man, no?"

That was when it finally hit her; the Blight was over. Furthermore, she was alive and so was Zevran. She had expected to die but she had received a reprieve, courtesy of the man who loved her too much to let her go. Overwhelmed, she burst into sobs, clutching Zevran as if he were her anchor in the storm of her relief. He held her close, murmuring softly in Antivan and stroking her hair as all the pent-up emotion of the past two years came pouring out. When the tears finally ceased, she felt completely drained, but in a good way. All the worries and fears were gone, and she felt like an empty vessel waiting to be filled with a new life.

Pulling away slightly, she noticed that her tears had soaked the bandage around his chest. She felt ashamed for not noticing his injuries earlier.

"Zev, you didn't mention that you were hurt! Is everyone okay?"

He placed a finger gently over her lips. "Shh, querida. My injuries were small, just a few bruises. It is nothing an assassin such as me cannot handle. Oghren was more seriously hurt but he is recovering nicely, and the others are all fine. It is you that we have been worried about, Ember." He wrapped his arms around her, curling his body against hers. "I am sorry that I disobeyed you, my Warden, but I regret nothing. Your death would have been mine, but now we will both live and love, no? And you must promise me that you will never leave me behind again or I will be most displeased." He smiled into her hair.

With a contented sigh, she returned his warm embrace. "I promise, and I think you have taught me one final lesson. Never try to outsmart a Crow."

A chuckle tickled the top of her head. "You learn well, querida. I trust that you will not forget it."

Four days later, a stronger Emberlin stood before a mirror in Leliana's room, fidgeting while Leliana arranged her hair. The bard was dressed in a lovely lavender gown with sparkling, silver high-heeled shoes. Leliana had amusingly tried on ten pairs of shoes before finally deciding on the pair she now wore.

"I feel silly all made up like this, Leli."

The Orlesian chuckled and placed a few more diamond pins in Emberlin's dark hair. "You are too beautiful to always hide behind your mage robes and cowl, Ember. For this one day you are the hero, and we shall have you looking like a queen."

"I doubt Anora would like that," grinned Emberlin.

Leliana laughed. "All the more reason to do it then."

Emberlin stared at the strange woman in the mirror adorned in a deep forest-green gown trimmed with golden lace. Her dark, wavy hair was held up with glittering pins and Zevran's emerald earring hung proudly from one pointed ear. Was this really the same woman who had traveled Ferelden in worn robes, spending most nights in a threadbare bedroll?

Leliana put an arm around her shoulders. "Come dear, and let's join the others. Zevran is waiting anxiously to see you in this dress. I told him all about it!"

Their companions were waiting in a small room adjoining the main hall of the Palace. All were dressed in splendid clothes that had been provided graciously by Anora for the celebration. Emberlin's eyes went first to Zevran, who was dressed in a fine amber-colored leather tunic and pants with gold fringe. His boots were a rich earthy brown and made of Antivan leather. His eyes widened slightly as Emberlin and Leliana approached, and she blushed at the admiration reflected in his gaze.

"My dear ladies, may I say that you both look simply ravishing?" He gave both of them a theatrical bow which had Wynne rolling her eyes.

"Yes, I completely agree," mumbled Alistair, giving Leliana a long stare, which earned him a dazzling smile.

A guard standing by the door approached them with deference.

"If you all are ready, the Queen, along with the Arls and Banns of Ferelden, await your presence."

Zevran offered his arm to Emberlin. "How about it, mi amor? Shall we go to greet our admirers?" His amber eyes shone with mirth.

She met his mischievous smile with her own and took his elbow. "I suppose we must, and I promise to be on my best behavior."

"Speak for yourself," grumbled Oghren. He released a heartfelt belch, which caused the guard to stare at him with undisguised horror. The dwarf gave him a satisfied grin amidst uproarious laughter from the gathered friends. Even Wynne managed a tolerant smile, and on that high note, they entered the crowded hall.

The ceremony itself passed in a colorful blur, which Emberlin was never able to properly remember afterwards. She received a shock when Anora announced that she was to receive the title of Arlessa of Amaranthine. This had not been discussed beforehand, and she wondered if Eamon had prompted Anora to bestow the land to her. Next, Anora acknowledged Alistair as Warden Commander of Ferelden and granted him Vigil's Keep, which Emberlin had requested. Alistair was quick to declare her as his second-in-command, which had also been agreed on before the ceremony. Dazed from her sudden rise in position, she was relieved when the official presentation was over and they were free to mingle with the crowd.

She weaved through the assembly, reminiscing with her friends and speaking to various nobles and other acquaintances she had met during her travels. She kept her distance from the haughty Queen, and Anora avoided her as well. There would be little love between them in the future, so it was just as well that she would be living in Vigil's Keep. As she courteously greeted each noble, her eyes searched for the one person she needed to see the most. She found him at last, addressing questions about his homeland from two overeager female admirers.

As she approached, he stopped speaking, and the women turned to see who had caused his eyes to light up with such pride. When they saw Emberlin, they gave reluctant curtsies and melted away into the crowd. The voices and people around them seemed to fade as their eyes locked with an intensity that drowned out everything else. Zevran made a formal bow, his eyes shining with mischief.

"Ah, I am honored that such a lovely woman has come to speak to me. Might I have the privilege of your name, my Lady?"

She grinned and lowered her head slightly, playing the part of the shy maiden. "My name is Emberlin, good Ser."

"A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. It reminds me of another attractive woman I was hired to kill once, long ago."

"And did you succeed in your endeavor?" Her eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Alas, I failed in that mission, my Lady. This woman, she was clever, powerful, and terribly charming. I fell madly in love with her." He reached out to caress her cheek. "As time passed, I watched this woman grow from a mere ember to a mighty flame, and my love grew as well."

"And where is this lovely woman that you speak of with such passion?" she asked, almost mesmerized by the honeyed cadence of his voice.

"She became the hero of an entire nation and won the admiration of many. Soon, she shall leave to become the leader of an arling, where I have no doubt that she will rule with wisdom."

"And you, good Ser? Will you let her go alone to this arling?"

Zevran cupped her delicate face between his hands and touched his forehead to hers. "She will never be alone again, querida. Where she goes, I will follow and fight gladly by her side. My heart, mi còrazon, my soul, mi alma, they belong to her forever." His arms circled her waist and he drew her into a passionate kiss. As the celebration continued around them, they lost themselves in the kiss, two hearts that had finally found freedom in giving themselves to each other.

So ends the tale of Emberlin Amell and Zevran Arainai. I had planned a sequel that takes place after Awakenings, but then I got involved with my other series, Twilight in Thedas. I may yet write the sequel after "Twilight" is completed.

I would like to thank everyone who submitted reviews and added this story as an alert or favorite. This tale would never have been finished if it weren't for all of you. This was my first attempt at writing a series, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Extra special thanks go to my beta, zevgirl, who not only corrects my grammar but offers encouragement as well. Dareth Shiral.