Author's note: This was another brain worm that crawled into my head and refused to go away. On the upside (or downside, depending on how you want to look at it), this will be the last of the stories about my Dalish Warden, unless I suddenly get the idea to write one that takes place before 'The Hunter and the Hunted', which I kind of doubt. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

The music filled her, so beautiful, and so moving. She felt herself sway gently to its calling as it consumed her in its siren song, blocking out everything else in the world. She knew this music... she knew that it beckoned her, calling her into a world of dreams that promised the cessation of pain, the end of loneliness and heartache, a sense of completion and wholeness...

It was a lie. She knew that if she followed the music this 'completion' would be nothing but a loss of her sense of self. It would draw her down into a pool of tainted blood that would strip from her everything she was, and leave an abomination that did nothing but produce more abominations and unleash them onto the world to kill, consume and search, endlessly search... but the music was so beautiful, and so compelling...

"... amor?"

Someone was calling her, but it was not important. Oh Creators, the only thing that was important was the music, and following where it lead. Lies, lies, lies, all lies, but so all consuming, so breath-takingly, heart-breakingly lovely. The music rocked her, causing her body to sway like a willow in the breeze, removing all thought and resistance...

"Zilfayirin!" Her swaying stopped suddenly as she became aware of hands gripping her shoulders tight, the pressure grounding her, and reminding her that this was just a lie, a trick...

She forced her eyes open and blinked at the man in front of her. She blinked at the sight of golden eyes, darkened with concern as the man peered at her, a frown pulling down at his lush lips... lips she knew were soft and so very devious. Her mind finally put a name to the face, and she forced a small smile, "Is something the matter, Zevran?" she asked softly.

The ex-Crow's frown deepened. Age had been good to the elf, he sported only a few wrinkles, and most of those had been caused by happiness and good humor. Even in his fifties, the assassin was as attractive as he had been when they first met, his eyes just as bright, and only a touch of grey at the temples coloring his fine blonde hair. He was not in good humor at the moment, however, and his brows knitted together as he examined her face, "You were gone again," he told her, "miles away, and swaying slowly," he lifted a hand and cupped her cheek, gently brushing a thumb over her cheekbone, "Mi amor..."

"You're still as handsome as the day we met," she interrupted him suddenly and turned her head to kiss the palm of his hand, "and you've made me the happiest woman in all of Thedas... possibly in the entire world."

Fear slipped into his expression, and his eyes frantically searched her face, "How long has it been, mi amor?" he asked quietly, a frightening math taking place in his head as he added up the symptoms she had been exhibiting the past year... the symptoms that were getting more and more frequent.

A sad smile pulled up the corners of the Warden-Commander's mouth, "It's been thirty-two years," she told him, and then swallowed hard, trying to keep the heartache from her voice as she finally accepted the very same conclusion the other elf was coming to, "I love you," she added, and then took a deep breath, "but I have to go."

"No!" the word was full of more heartache and desperation that she had ever heard, "Do not say that..." the assassin shook his head before taking her face between his hands, "Do not leave me behind again!"

The tears she had been trying not to shed broke free, and slid down her cheeks, "I'm sorry," she said, "I'll wait for you... but you have the rest of your life to live..."

"I don't want it," he said vehemently, "not if you won't be in it!"

Zilfayirin gently took his hands from her face, and then leaned in and kissed him, "My Zevran," she murmured against his lips, "Who will believe any of the stories about me if you aren't around to say 'No shit, I was there'?" she asked thickly, even as the tears continued to coarse down her cheeks.

He dropped her hands, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against him, and holding her tightly, "Let me come with you," he pleaded, breaking the kiss so he could rest his cheek against hers, their tears mingling now, "I told you once I would storm the Dark City itself at your side, and I still mean it. Do not do this," he begged shamelessly, without even a hint of the cockiness and pride that was so typical of him, "Do not leave me again, I beg you, if you love me..."

"If you love me," she cut him off, "then live for me, emma sa'lath." She reluctantly pulled out of his arms, and offered him a weak smile, "We've had a good life together, now go live the rest of your life any way you wish," she chuckled softly, "I'm sure you'll find someone younger, and prettier..."

"Never," he swore vehemently, "No one will ever compare..." he rested his forehead against her shoulder, "Cruel to the last, mi amor," he muttered.

She reached up and stroked his hair, "Vir samahl la numin," she crooned softly to him, "vir lath sa'vunin." She turned her head to kiss his hair, "We still have tonight," she muttered, "So let's forget about the future, and just live for right now."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Time had little meaning in the Deep Roads. Without the sun and moon to mark the hours, seconds stretched into eternities, while hours passed in the blink of an eye. It had been a long time, she knew that... it had taken quite a while to find the sections of road and the caverns that lead from Amaranthine all the way to the Dead Trenches. Zilfayirin had entered the Deep Roads under Vigil's Keep with Oghren and Nathaniel at her side, despite her protests. Oghren she had accepted, because he knew what happened to women left in the grip of the darkspawn, he had seen it. Nathaniel, on the other hand...

When she had asked him why he wished to go, an almost sheepish smile had crossed the brunette's face, "My nephew, Frederick," she had never teased him about getting that name from Anders, "and my sister Delilah... I know the taint won't spare me much longer, and I want to leave them with the heroic memory of me entering the Deep Roads at the Warden-Commander's side, rather than have them watch me slip slowly into madness." She had accepted that, and allowed him to join her. Frederick was a Senior Warden now, and the men loved him, a natural born leader... she had left orders reguarding who should succeed her, and unless Weisshaupt stuck their noses in, it would be the younger Howe.

Her companions had not made it all the way to the Dead Trenches with her. They had lost Oghren first; his rage-induced charge carrying him far away from the others, and allowing him to get surrounded. The rogues had done their best to support him with their bows, but... May the Ancestors embrace him. They had built a small cairn for him, covering his body so the deepstalkers and darkspawn could not get to him. She remembered the look of despair on Felsi's face when they had left Vigil's Keep, as she had weakly insulted her husband. Another memory in a long list of memories she had not wanted to keep.

Nathaniel had fallen to an arrow... an arrow he could have easily dodged, but had not because she had been behind him, and might have been hit had he done so. He had not died quickly... they had been out of healing supplies, so she had sat with him, and watched the life drain from him. He had been... happy... not to die, of course, but with what had done with his life. He had restored the Howe name, and he had lead a good, productive life since joining the Wardens. She had told him of her recommendation for Warden-Commander, and he had glowed with pride before the light slipped from his eyes forever.

She forced her mind back to the present as she limped through the entrance to the Anvil of the Void. Yes... this was it. This was where she would end it. She could hear them, feel them behind her, following the call in their blood that lead them to her. They would not kill her, she was sure of that, there was a much worse fate in store for her. After all, she had killed a brood mother on her way here, and they were eagerly looking for a replacement, even if all she would produce would be shrieks. How she knew that tidbit she did not question, because she was slightly frightened of how she had gotten that knowledge, since she had never read it anywhere. She pushed herself away from the wall, and strode out across the expanse of rock. The darkspawn were coming, and they would be upon her soon... she just prayed she would reach the outcropping where the Anvil had stood first.

She tightened her grip on the daggers in her hands. Twinblades, they were called, forged specifically for her. They were good weapons... but nothing it would break her heart to be lost here in the Deep Roads. Her bow, The Sorrows of Arlathan, as well as her sword, Starfang, and her dagger, The Rose's Thorn, were not with her. The very idea that they might be lost to the darkspawn made her chest tight. No, they were in the Warden museum at Soldier's Peak, along with Duncan's shield, sword, and dagger, and Alistair's Warden-Commander armor. She had wanted to make sure everyone would remember the Wardens that had fought the Fifth Blight, and she trusted the Drydens to maintain the keep always. She was not wearing her good armor either, that she had left for the Wardens, or Zevran, whoever wanted it, and had donned the armor she had worn when they defeated the Blight. Some small part of her was rather giddy that it still fit.

Ah, her mind was drifting again... but that was fine. So long as she kept firm her resolve not to let the darkspawn take her, that was all that mattered. She realized that she had reached the remains of the destroyed Anvil, and she turned to face the entrance, and waited. It did not take long for her foes to come out of the darkness and approach her, growling and snarling. She smiled at them, secure in the knowledge that she could not be flanked. Let them come, they would never take her alive. She clanged her daggers together, and shouted a challenge at them... and they answered.

How long the battle lasted, she did not know. All she was aware of was the heat of the magma below, the stench of burnt rock mixing with the stench of darkspawn blood, and the burning in her muscles and lungs. This was it... they were trying to wear her, and while they could not surround her, they could overwhelm her... Thank the Creators, the monsters were stupid. They pushed her back, driving her further and further towards the edge. When she finally felt the burning air rising from the molten rock below on her back, she knew it was time. She threw one dagger, and then the other, grinning as they found their marks in the necks of two of her attackers. With the time she bought herself, she moved back so only the balls of her feet were on the outcropping, and held her arms out to her side. Her attackers paused, drawing back warily in case this was some new attack, and in that moment she jumped, her spiteful grin firmly in place.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

The last thing Zilfayirin remembered was heat. It had not burned, or rather she had only had time to register heat before blackness took her. Now however, she felt hard ground beneath her, and for a split second she panicked, wondering if the darkspawn had found a way to catch her... but her senses told her this was not so. She was not laying on hard stone, surrounded by the stench of the foul creatures. Instead, she was laying in soft grass, with the familiar perfume of the wilderness around her. Her eyes flew open in surprise, and she sat up, looking around frantically, wondering if her trip into the Deep Roads had just been a dream...

No, she could tell by the washed out colors, and the ghostly quality of her surroundings, she was in the Beyond, the Fade as the humans called it. Well then, she was dead after all... Mission accomplished?

As she looked around, her eyes fell on a winged man standing near her, and watching her peacefully as he leaned on his staff. He was so slender, as though a strong wind would snap him in half, but strength radiated from him, as did a gentle, soothing light...

"Falon'Din," she breathed, staring at the god in awe. But... the Creators had left them! They had been sealed away before when Arlathan was lost, tricked by Fen'Harel, and would only return when the elves remembered how to be Elvhen...

The god smiled at her and tilted his head slightly, "Come along, child," he said softly, "You've a special path to walk."

Her body... consciousness? soul?... whatever it was called, moved without her thinking about it, and she was on her feet. Her guide smiled again, and then turned and began walking through the spectral forest around them. She could not still her protests, however, and said, "But I thought the Creators were..."

He looked back over his shoulder at her, "Some of the Elvhen remember, at least in spirit, even if the physical knowledge is lost."

"So you're saying I'm special?" she asked, unable to keep the disbelief and the wry humor from her voice. God or no, she was dead, and there was precious little to fear anymore.

He chuckled, and it was a beautiful sound, "I am," he confirmed, "so follow me to your reward, little dreamer."

She smiled at the pun on her name, "Well who am I to question a reward?" she muttered, unable to avoid trying to have the last word. Falon'Din let her have it, and walked on in silence. She was not sure how long they walked, since there was no more of a sense of time here than there had been in the Deep Roads, but since she did not get tired, it did not seem to matter. The forest around them was lovely, reminding her more and more of the Brecilian Forest with every step... She laughed suddenly, remembering that the Beyond reshaped itself to the will of the people traveling through it, so of course it looked like home.

After what could have been minutes or months, the path lead them to a clearing, and even before she saw the glow, Zilfayirin could smell a campfire. The scenery had shifted to night, and as they walked into clearing, sound beyond the crackling of the fire died away. Falon'Din stepped to the side, revealing the two people standing around the fire, and she stopped in her tracks. Two sets of eyes, one ice blue and the other a warm honey brown, regarded her from the other side of the campfire. Her knees turned to jelly and she fell to them, unable to stand under the weight of the emotion that tore through her, as her vision became clouded with tears.

"Aw, are you really that sad to see us?" one of the men quipped, getting to his feet, "Well the good news is that we don't need to eat, so you don't have to worry about my cooking anymore, if that's what's worrying you."

The other man did not bother with humor. He sprang to his feet, and ran to her side, dropping to his knees beside her and drawing her into his arms, "Lethallan," he whispered, turning his head to bury his face in her hair as he had done a lifetime ago, "Oh emma vhenan," he squeezed her tightly, "I've missed you..."

"T-Tamlen..." she managed to whisper, raising her arms slowly to wrap around him, afraid this was a cruel trick... but he was as solid as she was... for what that was worth... "Oh Creators, Tamlen!" She tightened her grip, holding him as tightly as he held her.

"What am I, chopped nug liver?" while she had been distracted, the other man had walked over to join the elves, kneeling next to them, "I think you've hurt my manly feelings," he said, pouting comically.

"All one of them," she whispered and freed an arm to reach out and pull him to her, "Alistair..." the hug was getting crowded, but Tamlen was willing to shift so the other man could be pulled into the circle as the Dalish rogue clung to them both. "I've missed you both so much," she sobbed, clinging to them fiercely.

"I've missed you two," Alistair said, stroking her back soothingly, "Now please stop crying... or else you'll make me cry, and my reputation will just be destroyed!"

A watery laugh escaped her, "We can't have that," she murmured as she forced herself to sniffle to a stop, "What... what are you two doing here?"

"Being cried on?" the ex-templar suggested.

"Waiting for you," the hunter said, loosing his hold on her so he could lean back, "Falon'Din lead me here and told me to wait..."

Alistair nodded, "I was told to wait here as well," he said and then smiled, "but now that you're here, we can go right? To the Maker's side?"

Zilfayirin leaned away as well, releasing the others and quickly wiping her eyes, "No," she said, a small smile tugging at her lips at the looks of disbelief on their faces, "I made a promise. It was good to see you two again, but there's someone I have to wait for."

Tamlen's brows drew together in confusion, but Alistair knew. He frowned, "Zevran," he said flatly, "You two are..."

"Until the morning I went into the Deep Roads," she replied as she carefully got to her feet, "It was good to see you again, but..."

"I will be damned if I'm going to leave you again!" the Dalish hunter swore as he sprang to his feet, "I'll wait here with you, and nothing can make me change my mind..." he reached out and touched her cheek, "Don't send me away, lethallan," he added softly.

"And if you think I'm just going to leave you here to wait for that assassin, you can think again," the human put in, "I've waited too long for you to get here, and I've got way too many jokes I've just been dying to tell you, so you're just going to have to put up with me too," he nodded stubbornly.

Zilfayirin smiled at the pair, and she turned her head to kiss Tamlen's palm as she reached out with a hand to catch one of Alistair's hands, "Well then," she said, "Let's get settled in, and I'll tell you about all the crazy shenanigans I've been up to..."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Anders knew he was dead, as only a mage could. He felt his spirit being severed from his body, and he was fully aware of the moment when he came into the Fade. Justice was giving him an angry, narrow-eyed look, but the blonde just sighed, "Look, it was either do that, or become a darkspawn and kill everyone."

"As I understand it," the spirit said hautily, "it's customary for Wardens to go into the Deep Roads to end their lives, not... drink a vile concoction like a coward!"

"Well I am a coward, thank you very much," Anders replied, feeling more like himself than he had in decades, now that Justice was no longer a part of him, "I told you that ages ago, and furthermore, I wasn't going to disappear from Hawke's life..."

"That woman," the warrior scoffed.

"... because if I did, she'd come after me," he continued as though he had not been interrupted at all, "and I won't have her death on my hands too," he shrugged, "Besides, there was no easy access to the Deep Roads where we were. So terribly sorry to disappoint you," he added sarcastically.

Justice's face was obscured by the helm he wore in the Fade, but it was pretty clear that he was scowling, "You started a war, and then killed yourself before it could be fully resolved! Don't you think..."

"I think," the mage snapped, "That I don't have to deal with you and your demands anymore! Maybe you don't remember how it works, but that bit about turning into a darkspawn? I didn't make that up! The Commander told us about it, if you'll remember, and while we managed to scrape by an extra ten years, I wasn't going to risk my family..." he smiled suddenly, "Why am I even arguing with you? I don't need to! Goodbye, Justice!" he said cheerfully, and then walked away.

He ignored the spirit's continued attempts to speak with him, and continued wandering. The Chant taught that souls traveled through the Fade to the Maker's side, but... he did not feel particularly pulled in any direction. More to the point, he kind of... wanted to wait for Hawke, if only to tell her goodbye properly. For all he knew, the lack of direction was a sign that he was destined for the Void.

Time had no meaning in the Fade, so he might have been walking for a few minutes, or a few years. However much time had passed, he was in a forest now, and he could hear people talking. He hoped it was a group of benevolent spirits, because he really needed directions or something... Though he had noticed that he was currently on a path.

As he approached a clearing, he heard a familiar feminine voice say, "And then I kicked him in the nuts! It was very cathartic." Male laughter greeted the statement, and as he walked into the circle of firelight he noticed the two men, one human and the other elven, sitting next to the fire. Across the flames, he saw a face he had never thought he would see again after the battle for mages' freedom in Kirkwall. Those magnificent jade eyes met his, and Zilfayirin smiled, "Aneth ara, lethallin," she said by way of greeting, "You know, seeing all of you together in a group, it occurs to me that I have a penchant for collecting blonde men."

Anders walked further into the clearing, "Commander... what...?" he frowned, "Wait, scratch that, that's a stupid question," he shook his head, "Shouldn't you be..." he waved a hand, "You know... by the Maker's side?" If anyone deserved their eternal reward, it was surely her.

The elven man, Dalish by the tattoos on his face, laughed, "What is it with these shemlen, lethallan?" he asked, "They're awfully hung up on us going to their Maker, aren't they?"

"Hush, Tamlen," she said, shooting him an affectionate look, "It's the only way they know to call paradise," her gaze returned to the mage, "Now let me guess... You're waiting for your Hawke, aren't you?"

"After a fashion," he admitted, looking over at the other human, who was rolling his eyes. Tall, blonde hair, broad shoulders... he remembered Zevran mentioned he shared those traits with... "Maker's breath!" he swore, "You're King Alistair!"

The ex-templar winced, "Um... can we skip the 'king' bit, if it's all the same?" he asked sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his head, "I mean, all I really did as king was... you know... die."

Zilfayirin smiled wryly, "Ah yes, introductions. Alistair, Tamlen, this is Anders, the man I told you about. Anders these are the other men I called lethallin," she waved him over, "Join us, we're waiting for someone too, so there's no reason for you to wait alone."

The mage smiled, "You know, I think I will..." he said, feeling a sense of peace fill him. It was like coming home.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Oh bloody hell," Hawke said, her hands on her hips as she looked around, "I missed that arrow, didn't I," she sighed, "Well, I expect that happens when you're not as young as you used to be. So this is the Fade again..." she took in the washed out colors, and the general blurriness of her surroundings, "Well it's well-named, I'll give it that..." She turned her attention to her feet and then nodded, "Well hello convenient path, I think I'll follow you," her lips twitched, "Be a good path now, and don't lead me to the Void..."

As it turned out, it lead into a night-time forest, which was a nice touch, she supposed. She moved cautiously, since she knew there were demons in the Fade, so she was able to catch the faint sounds of conversation as she traveled along the path. She slipped into the shadows, and continued towards the voices cautiously, until she could make out words.

"Oh yeah? Well I took a templar's head right off! It came clean off his shoulders, and smacked into a wall."

"Yeah, well I caught one in a Tempest, while he was trying to smite me!" That voice was chest-achingly familiar, but Hawke did not break cover, because she had no idea who the mage was talking to.

"Oh yeah? Well I killed a templar with an archdemon!" snapped the feminine half of the argument.

"Hey!" an unfamiliar masculine voice interupted, "You did not! You tried to save the templar in question, and it was only by getting knocked on your ass that he ended up dying... So really, I killed a templar with an archdemon!" Silence greeted that comment for several heartbeats, before laughter broke out.

"I can't believe you're joking about that, lethallin!" the female voice said between peals of laughter. Well whatever else she was, the woman was Dalish.

"What? The man raised by devout flying dogs? You can't believe I would joke?"

"Devout flying dogs?" another unfamiliar male voice chimed in, chuckling, "You know some very strange shemlen, lethallan." Well that brought the count up to two Dalish. Neither of them sounded like Merril though.

Another round of laughter greeted Hawke as she peered cautiously into the clearing. There was a tall blonde human man sitting by the fire, an elven woman sitting in his lap, and leaning back against him as she laughed. Next to him was a blonde elven man, and... there were a lot of blondes in the clearing. She was starting to feel rather out of place with her dark hair. When the elven woman lowered her head, the human rogue was able to identify her as the Warden-Commander. She wondered what was going on, when her eyes fell on the other person that had been bragging about killing templars. He was still wearing his feathery pauldrons...

Anders must have noticed the other three looking up, because he had started to turn by the time Hawke bowled into him, bearing him to the ground, and wrapping her arms around him. She quickly shifted so that he was fully on his back, and then captured his lips in a desperate kiss.

She was not aware of how much time had passed, but she became distantly aware of some throat-clearing and coughing from the others in the clearing. She forced herself to break the kiss, and lifted her head, her bright green eyes blinking at the other three. Zilfayirin grinned at her, "So... orgy time?" she asked cheerfully.

The elf beside her threw his head back and laughed, and the human beneath her sputtered and blushed, while Anders also started laughing. "No," the mage managed to say after a moment as he pulled his lover back down into his arms, "I don't want to share."

"Fair enough," the Dalish rogue replied with a laugh, "So, we're waiting for Zevran, wanna join us, or do you two want some alone time?" she asked, winking saucily.

Hawke smiled, "I think we can wait a little longer," she said cheerfully, resting her cheek on Anders' chest, "Besides, I don't know what the Maker's policy is on people having sex by his side." She snickered as the human warrior started blushing and sputtering again. "Does he always do that?" she asked with a grin.

"Only when we talk about sex," Zilfayirin said, grinning evilly.

The human rogue grinned back, "Oh this is going to be fun!"

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Zevran was so tired. Age and heartache weighed heavily on him, and not for the first time he wished that he had simply returned to Antiva, and stood in the middle of Antiva City with a target painted on his chest. He crossed his arms, and lowered his head to the desk, letting his eyes slide closed. Just a little rest...

"Ser Zevran?"

His head jerked up, and he blinked owlishly at the Dalish girl standing in front of him. For a split second, his heart had soared... but it then plummeted as it always did when he realized it was not her. "Yes, da'assan?" he asked, "May I help you?"

She smiled, the expression drawing up the lines of her vallaslin, "I'm the Warden-Commander, you know," she said, amusement filling her voice, "hardly a 'little arrow' anymore, don't you think?"

He chuckled softly, "Forgive me, when you get as old as I, you stop being able to think others as anything other than children."

"How old are you, Ser Zevran?" she asked quietly.

The assassin closed tired eyes, their once vibrant gold now dim with age, "Ninety, I believe." Forty years without her. Forty years of loneliness and heart ache, and he was so very tired...

"Why are you still here?"

"I made a promise," he whispered, and then chuckled mirthlessly, "Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say I was coerced into a promise."

"Don't you see him?"

Zevran forced his eyes open, and he frowned at the woman in front of him, "See who?" he asked curiously.

She smiled, and nodded to the far corner of the room, "Falon'Din is waiting for you. I think you've a journey to go on, Ser Zevran," the girl's features blurred, "Goodbye... we'll give you a Dalish burial."

The ex-Crow blinked, and he was suddenly no long tired, nor was he in pain. His sight did not seem to be much better, considering how fuzzy everything was...

"Welcome to the Beyond," a gentle masculine voice said behind him, causing the elf to whip around, and reach for weapons he had not worn in decades. The man standing near him was wraith-thin, and winged, a staff held easily in one hand. The man smiled at him, and he felt a sense of peace spread through him, "I am the Friend of the Dead, and the Guide. There is someone waiting for you, even now, if you will follow me?"

Zevran stared at the man, and felt tears gathering in his eyes, "Really?" he asked, and quickly wiped his eyes, "Yes, please, lead the way."

The... god, he supposed... nodded, and turned to do as bid. The assassin followed quickly behind him, just barely remembering not to walk on the god's heels... he had a feeling that would be rude, and while that normally did not bother him, he did not want to annoy the person taking him to his beloved. As they walked, he remembered some of the things the mages they had traveled with had told him about the Fade, and decided that it was time to get to work.

By the time they reached the moonlit forest, Zevran was in his prime, and clothed in a very fine jacket of wine red velvet, edged in gold, with skin-tight black breeches. His hair was once more its lovely golden color, and pulled back in his usual style, with a few hairs free to tang teasingly in his face. Lastly, though he could not see them, he knew that his eyes were as bright as they had been the day he had first met the love of his life.

Once he was finished focusing inwardly, his gaze swept over the forest, and he grinned to notice the resemblance to the Brecilian Forest. He was not surprised in the least, considering that it had been her home. As they continued to walk, her started hearing voices. There was a masculine voice he did not recognize, but marked as Dalish by the words he used. He did recognize the voices of Alistair, Anders, and the lovely Champion of Kirkwall. What he did not hear was the one voice he had been aching to hear for four decades... In hindsight that should have been a clue.

Zevran blinked as his guide stopped and then turned around, seeming to focus on something behind the elf. The assassin turned... and took the force of Zilfayirin's rush as she plowed into him, forcing him back into a tree. He did not even have time to draw a breath... that he probably did not need... before her lips were sealed over his, her hands frantically touching his face, his hair, his shoulders, and on down his body as though to make sure he was really there. He chuckled softly into her mouth as he realized he was doing the same thing. She was there, she was real, and she was not some demon's form of torment.

When she finally broke the kiss with a gasp, he could see the tears on her cheeks, but there was no overlooking the happiness that shone from her face. He wondered if he was grinning just as stupidly. "Aneth ara, emma sa'lath," she whispered, quickly darting in to press another kiss to his lips, "I've missed you."

Zevran sighed happily, "I've missed you more, trust me," he murmured as he lifted his hands... from her ass... to take her face between them and smooth his thumbs over the tattooed lines on her cheekbones, "The Wardens are in good hands. Frederick was an excellent leader, and you should know that the Ferelden Grey Wardens are nearly as numerous as the ones in Weisshaupt, making Vigil's Keep the second largest Grey Warden stronghold in Thedas," he smiled wryly, "And Soldier's Peak flourishes in the care of the Dryden's, with many visitors who come to hear about the heroics of the Hero of Ferelden, and the men that served with her," he arched a brow, "We are all caught up now, yes? Because I've gone forty years without sex, and it has made me a bit... antsy."

Zilfayirin had to laugh at that, "You could have skipped the information dump, emma sa'lath and left that for after." She looked to make sure that Falon'Din had moved on... and he had... and then stepped back and took her Crow's hand, "Come on... our will shapes this place, so let's go make a perfect trysting spot..." a wicked grin curled her lips, "and see if we can't shout the trees down."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Time did not have meaning in the Fade, but whatever stretch of time the group sat around the fire and listened to... what was going on in the forest was too long. After the first few session, Hawke had gotten a challenging look in her eyes, and excused herself and Anders from the camp... and a second pair of voices had joined the din.

Tamlen looked over at Alistair and raised a brow, "So..." he said, noting the human's blush, and determined stare at the fire, "Died a virgin?"

The ex-templar choked, "By the Maker!" he exclaimed, "Can't I just not want to hear my friends having sex? Is that really so hard to understand?"

The Dalish hunter grinned, "Ah I see... so you did die a virgin."

When the others finally returned to camp, the scene that presented itself was that of the human chasing the elf around the clearing, waving a sword and shouting threats, as Tamlen called back taunts, mostly in elven. They stopped when they realized Zilfayirin and Zevran had returned, arm in arm, as had Hawke and Anders.

It took a while for everyone to catch up, but once they had, Zilfayirin stood, and held up her hands for silence. Even in death she was such a natural leader, that even Hawke fell quite and looked to her. "My friends," she said with a smile, "The last member of our party is here," she turned a warm look on Zevran before returning her attention to the others, "So now the question is... do we stay or do we go? Not all of us have the same beliefs, so I don't know if we'll all end up in the same place. As amusing as it would be to state: 'I'll go onto my own afterlife with Wicked Grace and hookers,'" snickers greeted that comment, "I find it hard to find humor in more parting. So..." she smiled, "I'm staying. Zevran and I discussed it. We'll wander the Beyond as spirits," her smile turned to an evil grin, "and kick the shit out of demons. Any who want to join us are free to do so," she shook her head, "but if you'd rather go onto your reward, then I understand completely and wish you the best."

Hawke and Anders exchanged glances. At her nod the mage said, "What kind of reward would I get for blowing up a Chantry, I wonder," he shook his head, "I'd much rather roam the Fade, and make it safer for mages everywhere. The less demons, the less abominations, right?" he smiled, "You have us, Commander."

The Dalish rogue's eyes lit, "Actually I've only had one of you, or else your Hawke wouldn't be so closed to the idea of an orgy." That left the mage sputtering, and she turned her attention to the other two blondes, "Lethallin?" she asked, addressing them both.

Alistair grinned, "You're not getting away from me that easily," he declared, "Who else would laugh at my jokes?"

"Creators know they're not funny," Tamlen replied with a grin, and then ducked the swipe the human took at him. He lifted his eyes to Zilfayirin, "I'm with you, lethallan," he said warmly, "Always have, always will be."

Feeling a million feet tall, and happier than she could ever remember being, Zilfayirin held out her arms, a beatific smile splitting her face, "Then let's go kick some ass."

Author's note: And we're done! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. I'm currently playing Dragon Age 2, so maybe I'll shake a few fics out of that. As always, the Elven was taken from the DA wiki, and I don't think I used anything I haven't before, so I'm not going to translate here.