Zevran sat on the edge of the bed in his guest room, contemplating the task the queen had left for him. The elf was the only one who knew the true reason for the king and queen's visit to Orzammar. Elissa had asked him to keep it to himself, as he had. He had even helped the pair disguise their stay as a political one, not even attempting to dissuade them from what they were to do. The assassin understood death better than most, yet he couldn't comprehend why Elissa and Alistair would so willingly walk into it.
He sighed. Death, he understood. Honour he did not. He knew it was a question of honour and nothing more. He regretted not asking about the reasons behind the Wardens' actions earlier that morning, while the queen explained what Zevran was to do later that day. He wasn't certain if knowing why would have made it easier to accept their deaths, but he knew that it wouldn't have hurt.
Zevran lay down on his back and stared at the ceiling. He hadn't felt this subdued in almost twenty-five years. He nearly felt like following Alistair and Elissa into the Deep Roads himself, but he'd promised them he wouldn't. Besides, though he understood death, he was also afraid of it. He closed his eyes, trying not to think about what was happening to his companions in the impenetrable darkness of the Deep Roads.
Elissa could do nothing as the hurlock's blade pierced her side. She cried out, fell to her knees and clutched her ribs. The queen looked down at the ground, bitterly wishing that she'd had had more time. Upon realizing that wishing wouldn't improve her situation, she applied pressure to her wound with her hand. Her blood had already soaked the ground around her completely. Despite coming here to certain death, it was only at that moment that she truly accepted she would die.
Elissa closed her eyes, urging herself to remember. Memories came flooding back; fleeting images of friends past and present, of her mother and father smiling, of her only brother Fergus ruffling her hair, of Zevran, one of her dearest friends, and of Alistair, her king, her friend and her love. His face lingered in her mind as she opened her eyes again.
The mere image of Alistair was enough to give her the courage to die an honourable death. Elissa lifted her head and looked into the dark eyes of the Darkspawn as he swung his sword and all went black.
Back at Aeducan's palace, Zevran stood up, ready to face the king's assembly with the truth. The assassin smoothed out a wrinkle in his formal clothes before stepping outside the room with his head held high, just as he knew his favourite Grey Warden would have done.
A/N: Thank you very much for reading! This was a simple idea I got the other day after replaying the game as Elissa Cousland for the second time. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome!