Did anyone else feel close to tears from the ending of Assassin's Heart? I did and I'm the one who wrote it! This third installment of the Romance Saga explains what happens after the end.

Zevran walked through the streets of the Alienage, lacking a true purpose. He'd volunteered to guard any workers fixing the Alienage, though there wasn't anything to really guard against except the occasional fight between the elves and the humans who'd been sent to help. That was a strictly no kill business, although accidents sometimes happen to anyone. When humans started insinuating that a "knife-eared wench" couldn't have been the savior of Ferelden, accidents happened more often. Today, the bridge was to be finished. Zevran, the best dressed elf by far, walked around fairly aimlessly. He stopped when he heard his name. The voice was bittersweet, like cheese and goat meat. He turned slowly. "Shianni."

The red headed elf smiled. "Listen, I just wanted to tell you how grateful I am. We all are. For what you've done for us. You've given us hope."

"I have done nothing. Your cousin is the one who saved us all." His eyes drifted to her side, still heavily bandaged after three long months.

Shianni sighed. "I know you miss her. We all do...none more than my uncle."

Zevran shook his head. "Why are you here, Shianni?"

She sighed. "Nothing gets past you, does it? The king wants to see you."

Zevran allowed a wry laugh to escape. "Three months of visits to the palace, and you still refer to him as 'the king'?"

Shianni blushed slightly. "Just get there. He said it was important."

Zevran nodded and left the Alienage, using the route through the warehouse to get to the back alleys, then traveling to the palace district. It brought back memories of Tevintor slavers...and the final battle against the darkspawn. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Now was not the time to think about Natallia. As he approached the palace, guards stood at attention to him, opening the doors. He went through, going toward the meeting chamber. Before he got there, however, he heard his name being called. He stopped and turned, seeing Allistair in the fine fabrics awarded him as king. He bowed formally. "Your majesty."

"Oh, please. I had hoped that you of all people wouldn't do that."

Zevran stood straight, smirking. "And how is the palace life?"

"In danger, apparently." Allistair tilted his head, leading Zevran down a hall and to a broom cupboard. He opened it and out fell a man, bound and gagged.

Zevran recognized the make of the armor instantly. "Crows."

Allistair nodded. "Though they didn't seem to be after me. They were...looking for something." Silence. "Or someone."

Zevran raised his eyes to his old friend, a look in them never seen before. "And if they were?"

"I'm not saying you have to leave. I'm just saying you need to be more careful, is all. Cover your tracks better. You of all people understand, right?"

Zevran grunted, looking back at the man. "What do you intend to do with him?"

"Don't change the subject, Zevran. Ferelden needs you at your best."

Zevran glared up at Allistair. "Like she has you?"

"I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"No, you wouldn't. It must feel good, I suppose. Knowing that she died instead of you."

Allistair groaned. "Oh, Maker not this again."

Zevran scoffed and left the palace, going back to the Alienage. He went to Cyrion's house, where he had been staying since enough repairs had been made for elves to return to their homes. He sat down, sighing and rubbing his head. The old elf smiled at him, handing him a mug of tea. "How go the repairs?"

"The bridge is nearly finished. It should be complete by the end of the day."

Cyrion laid a hand on Zevran's shoulder. "I meant the repairs to your heart, son."

Zevran shook his head, taking a long sip of the tea. "I did not lose so much as you."

"Or perhaps more. You loved her in a way no one else could."

"A father's love, that must be something. She was lucky: she knew you."

Cyrion patted Zevran's shoulder gently. "I'll leave you to your thoughts then." He walked off, sporting a slight limp that remained from the slavers. Zevran sighed and stared into his mug of tea. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, lost in his own thoughts, but after some time Cyrion returned. "There's a woman here for you, lad."

Zevran shook his head. "I'm not taking visitors."

Cyrion put a hand on Zevran's shoulder. "She's armed. And tattoed."

Zevran looked up into the old elf's face. He nodded and went to the door, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword just in case. He managed a smile for who he saw. "Mythra, isn't it? What brings you here?"

The Dalish hunter looked past Zevran into the house. "Alone?" she whispered.

"The man who answered the door is here, but no one else. Is something-"

Mythra shoved past Zevran and entered the house suddenly, leaving a confused Zevran to close the door. "We need to talk."

"Isn't that what we're doing now?"

Mythra narrowed her eyes. "Your charms may work on Flatears, but-"

Zevran narrowed his eyes. "If you have come to talk, then do so quickly. I am not one to be annoyed."

Mythra sighed, dipping her head. "I'm sorry. Just, this is strange for me. I've come to seek help. My clan was attacked not more than a fortnight ago."

"The king is who you should see then. He is the Grey Warden, not I." Zevran pushed back his thoughts of Natallia.

"Word reached us of the woman's death. For what it's worth, I'm deeply sorry. But we were not attacked by darkspawn. The men shared your accent. I remembered from when you came with the odd group and helped us with the werewolves. When I saw you were not with our attackers, I came to warn you." Mythra's face twisted in a grimace and she touched her leg.

Zevran looked down and saw that her upper thigh was bandaged, blood seeping out of the wound. "You were wounded, yet you travelled all this way? Why? You must know that if your attackers are my former comrades from Antiva, they will be long gone with no hope of tracing by now."

Mythra nodded. "I came against the wishes of Keeper Lanaya. Since you were not with them, I can only assume they were after you."

Zevran nodded, then looked around. He touched Mythra's back gently, guiding her to his room. He helped her lay down, soothing her protests. He lit a candle to see better and knelt beside her, undoing the bandage carefully and examining the wound. "The arrow was poisoned. You know this, I presume."

Mythra nodded, breathing heavily. "The Creators guided me here. I will not return."

Zevran bit his tongue, finding himself wishing he could take the poison from her and save her. "No one should die in pain," he muttered under his breath.

Mythra laughed shortly. "Somehow, I didn't expect you to say that, given the people after you."

Zevran looked into her eyes. "The Dalish are not the only elves to be found with honor. The Grey Warden who saved your clan taught me that."

Mythra nodded slowly, closing her eyes. "We prayed the Creators take her as one of their children. May Falon'Din guide her to the beyond." She gritted her teeth. "And may Elgar'nan grant you the venegance you seek." She writhed on the bed, then was still. Her body went limp, a last whisper escaping her lips. "Falon'Din, guide me..."

Zevran stood from Mythra's body, trembling with rage. "Cyrion," he called out gently. When there was no answer, his heart began to race. He looked out of his room, not seeing the old elf. "Cyrion?" When there was still no answer he drew his blades, creeping through the house. He found Cyrion in his own room, laying on the floor as though he'd tried to drag himself out. Zevran's eyes widened at the amount of blood. There was a twisted sort of laugh from a corner. Zevran narrowed his eyes, attempting to see the face of Cyrion's murderer.

"The Antivan Crows send their greetings, traitor."

Zevran was ready for the attack, but not for the force it came with. He staggered backward, barely finding his footing before another blow came. He managed to doge the attacks for the most part, being sure to parry the others. He could smell the poison on the man's blades. Strength, however, had never been a strong point with Zevran. Thankfully, the front door opened, distracting the Crow. He paled when he heard Shianni's voice. He shook his head. "Shianni, run!" He plunged his blades into the back of the Crow, killing him but knowing that more were around. He ran outside to accompany Shianni to the palace to be sure she was safe. he found himself too late, however. Shianni was in the arms of another Crow, a dagger dangerously close to her throat. Zevran stopped, raising a hand. "Let her go. This is between the Crows and myself, not these elves."

The crow sneered and was about to slit Shianni's throat when a loud commotion was heard. The palace guard ran through the streets, the Crow fleeing. Zevran closed his eyes and dipped his head, slowly shaking it sadly. He went to Shianni and gently took her arm. "Come, my dear. You do not want to go inside." He looked at a guard and gestured toward Cyrion's house before escorting Shianni to the royal palace.