He knew it was a death sentence. He'd known it would be from the moment the words fell from her lips. No, that wasn't true. He'd known for far longer than that… almost from the beginning.

"I go where you go."

He'd known then where this road would lead. And he wouldn't be anywhere else.

"I am yours."

He was. He often wondered who had figured out the depth of his commitment first, her or him. They'd talked about it over the years, neither one remembering exactly when the reality of their relationship reached their consciousness, but never doubting it was real. All they knew was that under impossible circumstances they had met, and grown to… care for each other… love each other.

There was that word. The center of it all. It had taken him years to say it. She'd never pushed. Never asked. Never let on how much she'd longed to hear him say that one simple word. But he'd never forgotten the look in her eyes the night he had finally told her he loved her.

Hearing the horrible news, he'd torn into the birthing room, mindless of anyone and anything in his way as he raced towards her side. She'd been holding a bundle close to her breast, the tears flowing silently down her cheeks as she rocked the too still form in her arms. The look of despair on her face tore his heart and her words chilled his soul.

"I've failed. Her. You."

"Shhhh," he'd said, stroking her hair, matted with sweat from the ordeal. "You have not failed. It was simply not meant to be."

Her body shook as her cries found a voice, great sobs escaping from her heaving shoulders. "You must hate me now!"

"No, my amora," he'd replied, laying a tender kiss on her forehead. "I do not hate you, my dear Warden. My… my love for you has never been greater."

He'd seen her eyes lock on his, disbelief mingled with pain. "L-love?"

He returned her stare, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Did you ever doubt the depth of my feelings for you? They are no less simply because the Maker has chosen to take our daughter directly from your womb into his domain. I am a stubborn fool, this is true. But, surely you must know that I have loved you for years."

He shook his head, brushing the memories away as he focused on the scene before him. He watched as the monsters laid their burden aside before kneeling down to drink from the grimy underground pool of stagnant water at their feet. She was still unconscious, thank the Maker. He was not sure he could follow through with this had she been awake – had he been forced to stare into her eyes.

He silently slipped his dagger out of its sheath as he made his way from behind the rock and into the shadows along the wall of the cave. His mind focused on one thing. The last promise he had made to this woman who had held his heart in her hands for so many years.

"I'm coming with you," he'd said when he'd realized what was happening.

"No!" she'd replied, her eyes fierce with determination. "You have no need to sacrifice yourself in this manner! This is my burden. Mine alone."

"I go where you go," he'd replied, staring her down. "This has always been the way of us. It will not be any different now."

And so, he'd followed her into the Deep Roads. They'd met much stronger resistance than the last time they had ventured down these dark, oppressive tunnels, proving the stories true about the Deep Roads being safer during a Blight. But, they'd fought fiercely, bravely, carving their way deeper and deeper into the filth the Darkspawn called home.

"Promise me one thing," she'd said after their first night underground.

"Anything, my amora," he'd replied, rubbing a salve into a wound she'd taken during the day's fighting.

"Don't," she'd begun, her voice catching. She cleared her throat and turned towards him, grabbing his hand as her eyes pierced his soul. "Don't let them take me. I… I don't want to end up like –"

"I won't," he'd said, interrupting her. And taking her face in his hands he kissed her tenderly. "I promise."

The Darkspawn were still inattentive, vying for a place at the pool, heedless of the shadow moving ever closer to their prize. That would change as soon as his deed was done. He had no illusions about what his future held. He did not care. By the Maker, just let him complete this final task.

A Hurlock on the edge of the group paused, sniffing the air. Zevran froze, less than an arm's length from his target. But a Genlock, seeing his rival's inattention, jostled the Hurlock even further away from the pool, instigating a fight between the two as the Hurlock took offense. Now was his chance. Perhaps the only one he'd have.

He raised his dagger high, tears streaming down his face as he plunged the knife deep into her breast. She gasped once, her eyes opening briefly, and he swore he saw a smile cross her lips before he felt claws grabbing him from behind.

He spun around, pulling his other dagger from its sheath, beginning his final dance.

"I am yours," he whispered as he felt a maul slam into his chest, breaking his ribs. "I am yours."