Author's note: Much as I love him, I think Zevran might kill me in my sleep if I keep on almost giving him what he wants, so we're proceding with some more or less plot-like stuff. Warning: Taliesin, blood, death, poison, dismemberment, and a rather long chapter ahead.
Zevran was on edge. It was not the city; he liked Denerim well enough—or at least he did not dislike it as much as the rest of this dismal, frostbitten country—and both the accommodations and the company were far more pleasant this time than the last time he had stayed here, but he could not shake the crawling sensation of being watched… stalked… hunted. He prowled Arl Eamon's estate at all hours of the night, checking windows, doors, dark corners, and hidden passages (there were five of these in the estate; he had located all of them within his first day under the Arl's roof) for any signs of danger. When he wandered the streets and taverns with his Warden, preparing for the Landsmeet, every unfamiliar footfall and secretive whisper fell like a hammer blow on his ears, until his head rang with them. When at last Taliesin stepped out of the shadows, it was almost a relief to hear the familiar words, "The Crows send their greetings…"
Taliesin had a plan. Taliesin always had a plan. It was something Zevran had, at one time, admired in the other man; his ability to come up with an answer, a plan, a story at a second's notice. That had been before Rinna, before Zevran had felt for himself the pain that Taliesin's stories could cause, but even now he was tempted, if only for a moment, by the thought of going back. Then Elspeth interrupted. And because, even if she had known how, it would never have occurred to her to come at a problem sideways and smiling like a Crow, she simply stepped forward and declared that he didn't need to go back; that he didn't belong to the Crows or anyone (this was a bit of a surprise—he had come to rather like the idea of belonging to her) and quite suddenly, he lost all desire to go back to the empty smiles and poisoned words of his old life.
Taliesin's lip curled when the armor-plated bitch spoke up. He wasn't surprised; Zev had always attracted women like a mabari attracted fleas. Only difference was, a dog didn't try to hold onto its parasites. Zevran would get so sodding attached to a girl, Taliesin half-expected the elf to turn on him in favor of the Warden. And then he did. And for once in his life, Taliesin did not have an answer. So he simply signaled the attack, and began his last dance with Zevran.
Taliesin had brought eight Crows with him. Zevran was accompanied by two Wardens and an apostate mage. It was almost a fair fight. A sweep of Elspeth's mighty blade sent five assassins flying. Alistair brought his shield up sharply under the chin of a sixth, snapping the man's neck. Morrigan laughed darkly as she sent lightning coursing through the body of another Crow. Most of his foes being otherwise occupied, Zevran knelt to disarm the hidden traps lining the base of the staircase. That was when the dagger hit his shoulder blade. Zevran tried to rise to face his attacker, but a sudden chill coursed through his blood, turning his muscles to lead. He struggled to remain upright as the paralytic poison took hold. Strong fingers knotted in his hair, yanking his head up.
"Well isn't this poetic," Taliesin hissed into the elf's ear, and Zevran felt steel at his throat. "Give Rinna a kiss for me, will you… traitor!"
Suddenly the knife fell away from Zevran's throat. It was still clutched in Taliesin's hand. Which was still attached to Taliesin's arm. Which was no longer attached to Taliesin's shoulder. The Crow's cry of pain broke off in a soft, gurgling crunch as Elspeth's second swing removed his head. Released from Taliesin's grasp, Zevran slumped forward, and Elspeth was kneeling at his side in an instant.
"Antidote," he rasped with what breath his frozen lungs still contained. "Left side. Green bottle."
Hastily casting aside her armored gauntlets, Elspeth fumbled in his belt pouch, then quickly brought the tiny glass vial to his lips. Zevran swallowed, then a moment later, managed to draw a deep, shuddering breath. "And there it is," he said softly, still not looking at the corpse behind him. "Taliesin is dead and I am free of the Crows. They will assume that I am dead along with Taliesin," he went on, thinking aloud. "So long as I do not make my presence known to them they will not seek me out."
Elspeth watched his face intently. "That's a good thing… right?" she sounded oddly uncertain.
He smiled warmly. What was there to be unsure of? She could not possibly think he would be angry with her for killing Taliesin when the man had been holding a knife to his throat. "A very good thing. It is, in fact, what I had hoped for ever since you decided not to kill me. I suppose it would be possible for me to leave, now, if I wished," where had that come from? Certainly the thought had crossed his mind, but he had not meant to voice it. His voice went on without his permission. "I could go far away, somewhere where the Crows would never find me," sometime between his own failed ambush and Taliesin's attack, that idea had lost a lot of its appeal, but it was good to consider all his options, wasn't it? "I think, however that I could also stay here. I made an oath to help you, after all. And saving the world seems a worthy task to see through to the end, yes?"
She wasn't looking at him. "If you want to go, you should go."
That was completely unhelpful. He sighed. "But that is what I am asking you. Do you want me to go? Do you need me here?"
Elspeth looked at him solemnly. "I want you to do… what's best for you, Zev," she replied quietly. "This is your future we're talking about. What I want doesn't matter."
"I… am not sure how to respond to that," he floundered, searching for words. "Nobody has ever… I mean, normally, these things are decided by others," she was still waiting for a decision; for his decision. "Err… then I suppose I shall… stay? Is that… good?"
"If that's what you want, then yes," She was trying not to smile, but Zevran could hear the happiness behind her words.
Bolstered by the certainty that, when first given the chance to choose his own course, he had made the right choice, he grinned, then declared solemnly, "Then stay I shall. I'm with you until the end… provided you do not tire of me first. Or I die. Or you die. But there you go."
Leliana could have said it better, but she never smiled like that for Leliana.