It was late, but Zevran wasn't tired. His last job hadn't been difficult: assassinating a young noble who knew too much and talk too much. They never lived long. Now Zevran was supposed to go back to the tavern and tell his contact the job was done, but he didn't go. Not yet. He was near some other place he intended to visit.
The fortress was large and difficult to miss, even in the middle of the night. It was heavily guarded by some of the best men in Thedas; but Zevran was the best Antivan assassin and a sneak in master. It wasn't the first time he had got in unseen.
The elf was silent until he reached the garden. Then he took the flowers he had brought. Theron had always love delicate things that spoil or break easily, and those small, white flowers had proven to be more difficult to keep safe than killing the Archdemon itself. But maybe that was why Theron liked the flowers, why he always wanted to protect everyone. Why he had welcome Zevran in the group even though the assassin had tried to kill him.
Always smiling, always giving second chances, always trying to help. Always doing what he thought he was right and never asking anything in exchange. That was the Grey Warden. The Dalishan elf that had stolen the assassin's heart.
Zevran realized, not surprised, that he was crying. If only the Warden had been a little more selfish...
"I miss you so much, mi amor" he whispered with a cracking voice. It was dawn and a new day had begun.
But the cold gravestone didn't answer.