He had left with Alistair and that other Grey Warden they had rescued in Fort Drakon. Warden business, he had explained apologetically, leaving Zevran with an empty and cold bed the night before the battle.
Zevran paces his admittedly comfortable quarters within Arl Eamon's estate. As an assassin, he had developed a sort of sixth sense for trouble, and this sense had been tingling since Riordan had led the two younger Grey Wardens up the stairs. There had been something in the older Warden's tired gaze, something sad. Whatever business they had, it could not be good.
He has just about given up waiting and is sitting dejectedly on his bed when a tentative knock sounds on the door. It's him, of course.
There is death in his eyes. He is so small, so fragile.
"You call?" Zevran places a hand on his lover's cheek. The Warden leans into his touch ever so slightly, eyes avoiding Zevran's face.
"We need to talk."
Gently, he pushes Zevran's hand aside, but keeps a tight grasp on his fingers.
"I probably won't survive tomorrow."
Zevran laughs, lifting Alim's fingers to his lips and kissing them gently. Alim closes his eyes and exhales every so slightly. "Since when is that news for any of us? Battling darkspawn isn't exactly picking daisies. But we've managed so far. Why should tomorrow be different?"
"Riordan told us the truth about why only Grey Wardens can end the Blight. When the archdemon dies, it normally seeks out a darkspawn to plant its essence in and is reborn again. But a Grey Warden carries the taint…"
His grip on Zevran's fingers is almost painfully tight now.
"And so the archdemon's soul goes into the Warden's body, destroying both in the process."
Zevran cannot speak.
"Morrigan…" the Warden squeezes his eyes shut. "Morrigan knew of this, and had a way out. But it was blood magic, and would create a baby with the soul of an Old God, a monster perhaps far worse than the Blight. So I rejected her."
"Why are you telling me this?" Zevran, strangely enough, feels anger. "You came here for a final night of passion or something? Use me up while you still can?" He turns away, thrusting away the other man's hands. His teeth are clenched. He welcomes the anger, welcomes how the angry red in his chest drowns out his other feelings, for he know he will drown if he lets them rise.
To his horror he sees tears welling up in the Warden's hazel-green eyes.
"I'm scared," he whispers. It's almost a whimper. "I don't want to die."
Much too quickly, the anger dies away, leaving only a cold tightness in the pit of his stomach. It's terrifying to watch him cry, this man whose amassed army even now marches in unprecedented number and alliance, who has always been the leader, always holding them together. Now he needs to be held, and Zevran is only watching numbly, hands suspended in the air.
"You're not the only Grey Warden," Zevran desperately tries to think of something, anything, a way out of this. "There's Alistair, and Riordan—"
The mage wipes away his tears hastily, shaking his head. "Alistair must be king. Everything we've done will be for naught if he falls. And we must not count on Riordan. I need to be prepared." He straightens himself, attempting to regain composure. "I'm sorry for burdening you with this. There's nothing you can do anyhow. I should go."
As he turns in a tight little motion to the door, Zevran catches his hand. "You owe me a final night of passion." His attempted joke is distasteful, and it's obvious the Warden thinks so too, but he allows himself to be carried to the bed.
Zevran's hands tremble as he strips away the mage's robes. All he can think is that this may be the last time he can do so, the last time he can kiss these lean shoulders, this white neck with its gently fluttering pulse, these delicate collarbones. He is altogether too rough, too fierce, too clumsy, as if this were his first time from so many years ago. His art is absent; he thrusts with a mindless desperation as the mage gasps. It's terrible and pathetic but he wants to feel him warm and tight and so alive he never wants it to end.
But it does.
When he awakes in the morning, the Warden is still in his arms. His face is motionless, as if he is—
The cold fist clenches around Zevran's innards again, and he rouses him with a kiss.
When he chooses for him to go with him to battle the archdemon, Zevran says something ridiculous about storming the gates of the Dark City. He regrets it almost as soon as the words leave his mouth, but the Warden smiles. It's the saddest smile he's ever seen. He feels places breaking that he didn't even know were inside him.
And when they see Riordan fall, Zevran feels his world collapse. He barely sees the endless waves of darkspawn he cuts down in their way to the rooftop. He almost wants to stop so that they can't get there, can't face the archdemon and—
But of course they prevail, and soon enough the Warden stands panting before the fatally wounded dragon, watching as it flails its mighty head in struggle. There is a sword by his side, but he hesitates to grab it. He turns to look at Zevran, eyes pleading.
"Zevran, I don't think I can do this," he whispers, for his ears alone.
He throws his blades aside to catch him in one final embrace, burying his face into the other elf's loose red hair, if only so he does not have to look into those eyes as he sends him off to die.
"Be brave, my love," he says against his mouth, and kisses him, slowly, sweetly. There's a strange wet saltiness on the tip of his tongue. He realizes he is crying.
He allows himself to be pushed away, gently. He cannot watch as his love runs the sword through the belly of the archdemon, as he is engulfed in light and finally collapses on the floor.
When it is finished, he pushes past the speechless Alistair and collects the body, already growing cold.
((Author's Note: Yet another Zevran-based Ultimate Sacrifice fic! This one has been sitting on my hard drive for months and I was getting sick of seeing it in my WIP folder. This will probably be the last Zev US fic from me. Whew!))
((Call for technical help: Are other people seeing this as all centered? It's showing up normally left-aligned in the document and in the live preview, but I have no idea why it decided to center everything once I upload it))
