Author's note: I'm taking a teensy bit of creative license here, for the purposes of the story.

Time swept us on without pause, or so it felt; soon enough we were back in Denerim, Alistair and I standing beside one another in Arl Eamon's study at his city estate, the Arl pacing back and forth before us, hands clasping and unclasping before him as we discussed our options.

"I will not side with Anora," Alistair said, lifting his chin. "She can't be trusted; she's the daughter of a traitor, after all."

"Does that make her a traitor, too?" I shot back.

Eamon waved his hand. "I do not believe she is what you say, Alistair," he said, his voice quavering a bit. "But we should be careful, nonetheless. She is, from what I have observed, most eager to keep her power. Perhaps we can use that to our advantage."

Alistair shook his head. "If everyone is so set on me becoming king, then it's ultimately up to me, right? I want nothing to do with her." He turned to me. "But I cannot rule alone."

I frowned. "Alistair..."

"Your blood is far more noble than hers," Eamon admitted, stroking his beard as he studied me. "And you are well-known to the gentry...despite what Loghain has said about your family, there is much sympathy for the Couslands." He nodded and looked at Alistair. "It could work. With your lineage and her name..."

My mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Finally, I managed to shake my head. "I do not think that the people will accept two Wardens on the throne-what of the line of succession? I can't bear children, and may not live to see the end of this battle. It's irresponsible, at the very least."

"We can work all that out," Alistair replied with a glance to me. "As to the battle-well, none of us may live to see the end of it. But we must plan as if we will succeed." There was something strange in his eyes, something I had not seen before-a keen edge that had changed him into the man who stood before me.

Eamon nodded again, though he seemed thoughtful. "I think it could work," he said. "Though, Anora will never stand for it."

"I don't give half a care what she thinks about anything," Alistair replied. "And with a Cousland and Maric's son against her, who will argue?"

Again, I opened my mouth to argue, but then Eamon nodded in agreement and gave me a kindly look. "I knew your father well, my dear girl, and he would be so pleased to know that you have risen to such heights. It will be a great coup for your house, to gain such an honor."

This had me at a loss, as it concurred with the niggling voice inside of me that echoed his words. Exhaustion overtook me and I made no further comment. Soon enough the discussion ended and I found myself alone in my own room with Alistair, who had followed me. The moment the door closed behind us, I faced him, fury rising to my cheeks. "You didn't even ask me."

"Ask you what? To be queen? Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Things change."

"Don't I know it," he replied with a bitter laugh. "But wasn't it you who told me that everyone is in it for themselves? Well, this is what's best for me, and you too, if you'd care to see it. Eamon was right about your house, you know. This can change everything for you, for your family's honor."

"But...I don't want to marry you, Alistair." My voice was a traitor, wavering when it should have been resolute.

His was not. "There are many things in this world that we may not want, but must do what is best for our country."

My hands were shaking. "This isn't you. This isn't the Alistair that I know."

He shook his head and made to step away from me. "This is what I have become, and you have played your part in it well enough. You spoke of duty, of sacrifice; well, this is what that means. How ironic, that it should come to this, now." His jaw tightened and he looked resplendent in Cailen's armor-every inch a king-and I never hated anyone so much in that moment. "You can keep the elf around, if you like. I know how important he is to your happiness." With that he turned and walked down the long corridor, away from me.

Dark were my dreams that night. After Alistair had left, I remained in my room for perhaps thirty seconds before I sought my confidante. The others were enjoying the comforts brought about by having a roof over their heads, but there was one who, I knew, would be waiting for me. We did not speak much, for my face appearantly gave my emotions away and Zev knew me well enough to simply let me exist for a time without questions or comments; it was his greatest kindness, for he allowed me to breathe when I felt that the world was caving down upon me.

It was easy to loose myself in his embrace, to banish all traces of concern from my mind and simply be with him. But the dreams came, still, after a time. As I had done many times, I relived the attack on Highever, watched as everyone I loved was slain like cattle, felt my own cowardice and shame as I ran away. I awoke in the predawn hours, nestled against Zev's side, his heartbeat beneath my ear slowly bringing me back into reality. I know what I must do.

"Did you say something, my dear?" His voice was faint, as though he was barely awake.

"I have to marry him," I replied, my voice quiet. "It is the only way."

At this, he sat up and regarded me, his head tilting to one side like a bird. "Marry Alistair?" At my expression, he nodded. "Yes, it makes sense, I suppose, Ferelden politics being what they are. Though, I can see that you are not pleased with this, yes?"

"I don't want to be queen," I replied. "Perhaps I did once, but...I've changed. That was another girl, another life..."

"What do you want, then?"

It was a simple question, but I had no response. Finally, I shrugged and gave an exasperated sigh. "I can hardly say; my life has been turned on its head and I haven't had a chance to get my bearings."

Zevran nodded. "Well, then turn him down. He cannot force you. Let him wed that blonde lass that everyone seems to dislike so-she seems unwilling to give up her title, anyway."

"He refuses. And I...my family's honor is at stake." I looked at him. "Zev, I have to do this. I'm sorry."

"And I can stay and be your 'companion,' is that right?" There was an edge of sarcasm in his voice that had never been there before.

I swallowed. "It's not...I mean...you can do as you like, Zev. You are a free man, and I would not ask you to settle for being the lover of another man's wife."

At this he shook his head, frowning. "You would not have my stand at your side, no matter what?"

"Zev, it isn't fair to you, to have to live in his shadow." I said after a moment, my voice quiet. "I hold you to no oath,"

There was utter silence for a moment as he contemplated my words. Finally, he nodded and gave me a weak smile that even I could see was false. "Very well. If you do not wish me at your side any longer, then I will not burden you." His tone was clipped, formal, and I knew that I had made another mistake. "I shall return to Antiva after...after. I find that I miss my homeland."

"That's not what I meant."

"It is exactly what you meant, my dear," he replied. "But you forget, I do not break oaths and I do not throw away my loyalty...or my love. But I cannot help what others choose to do. Fate is a cruel bitch, no?"

"Zev-"

He rose from my bed, gathering his discarded clothes and making for the door with alacrity. Before he left, he turned to look at me one last time. "For what it's worth, I would have stayed with you regardless of whose wife you were, as long as you would have me. But I will not stay where I am not welcome."

"Zevran," I said as I reached for him. "Zev. Please don't leave. Please." My arms circled his neck, I kissed his silent mouth. "Please don't make me be alone tonight."

He sighed and shook his head, his belongings dropping to our feet as he kicked the door shut. For a moment I thought he was angry, but he kissed me and pushed me down to the bed, smiling as he removed whatever bit of clothing that he'd managed to replace. "You are an evil, evil woman, you know? That or you are truly a mage, to have cast such a spell over me. Or perhaps I am not as strong as I imagine, for I cannot say no to you, my sweet Warden." His body was warm against mine, and there was no more talk that night, for which I was grateful.

At the Landsmeet, it was decided. I would rule next to Alistair as his queen, (or princess-consort, as far as the history books were concerned,) and we set off for Redcliffe almost immediately following the Landsmeet. Though it gave me a small pleasure to end the life of the traitor Loghain, it was a hollow victory, in the end. Then there was the small matter of the Archdemon routing his army to Denerim in our absence, which meant that we would have to return as quickly as possible.

I didn't much care for Riordan, though Maker knows I wanted to like him; perhaps it was merely that he brought such dark news, I don't know. What I do know, is that I found that I was in no hurry to die, though it seemed unlikely that I would survive the battle; Alistair seemed to come to the same conclusion, though we hardly spoke about it.

And then there was Morrigan. My unlikely savior, as it turned out to be. As she tried to convince me, I watched her, thinking of the strange woman who I'd encountered in the Kocari wilds so long ago; how different she was now, though on the surface little had changed. There was a vulerability to her that had not been there before. How strange that she had grown softer while Alistair had hardened.

"So, what say you?"

"If it will allow us to live, then I'm for it," I replied. "But Alistair may be difficult to convince."

She smiled. "You are quite persuasive, my friend. I trust that you will not have any trouble in that department. Send him to me when you are done." Her golden eyes regarded me with a trace of warmth. "You should seek your comfort while you can, you know."

"I do."

He agreed.

The ritual was done, but I had my doubts. What if it doesn't work? What if my trust is misplaced, and it was all a ruse, a means to an end? I didn't tell anyone else, not even Zev, for if it didn't work, it would be cruel of me to give him false hope. I wanted to spare him, in so many ways, from the brunt of my decisions, even as I was preparing to face them head on.

Back in Denerim, I was asked to choose, again and again and again, and face failure, though it would be for the last time, for a mercy. Of all of my dear friends, the ones who had fought beside me for the past year or so, I was only advised to bring three with me to face the Archdemon, and so I chose: Shale, for her sheer strength and invincibility; Wynne, for her healing magics that would most certainly be needed in the face of the horde; and Alistair, because...well, despite everything else he had become, he was still a Warden, and should one of us fall in our attempt to slay the creature, the other would have to take up the task.

After all was arranged and my little party set to head to Drakon fortress, Zev pulled me aside for one brief moment. "Why are you not taking me with you? You know that I would follow you to death, and beyond. I am your man, now and always."

Around us there was smoke and death, the screams of those who were not strong or fast or lucky enough to escape the darkspawn filled the air. My throat was tight. "Everyone I have ever loved is dead," I said, taking his hands. "I cannot put you in danger, too. If you were to fall, I would not be able to bear it." Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, and I was thankful for the helm that covered most of my face.

Even here, at the end of all things, he was able to make me smile. "And now you are concerned for my safety, my Warden? Whoever said that the Maker has no sense of humor?"

I took a deep breath. "Zev, whatever happens, I love you."

His face fell into an expression I'd never seen. "Cruel to the end, I see."