AN: Almost there, guys! Only 2 chapters left to the end! :) Thanks to all my readers, followers, and reviewers for the encouragement. Extra thanks to wonderful ShebasDawn, for her help and support.

Previously on Failed to Fail: Shortly before the Landsmeet, the Crows finally attacked, led by Taliesen, Zevran's friend and former lover, who died in the attack. Feeling guilty, Zevran decided he was unworthy of love. Confused and hurt, Airam went to save 'captured' Queen Anora all alone. It turned out to be a trap, and he was arrested and took to Fort Drakon, where he was tortured. Zevran organized a rescue after which they escaped to Isabela's ship to wait for the Landsmeet. Airam managed to convince the nobles, and in the voting who should lead Ferelden - Anora, with Loghain as the regent or Alistair, majority voted for Alistair. Loghain wasn't happy with the result and challenged Airam to fight, but since Airam was hurt, Zevran fought instead, and won. Loghain was arrested and Anora appointed as 'a temporary governor' with Eamon as her main counselor. And then Zevran finally properly confessed and gave Airam the Earring. :)

"Copper for your thoughts," Zevran said, although he suspected he knew already. They were walking hand in hand under a clear sky painted in the glorious oranges and reds of a setting sun, the evening as pleasant as it could be in this Maker-forsaken, mabari-gnawed frozen bone of a country.

But while the setting was perfect, the mood lagged. With every step they took, Airam looked more and more distracted and worried. Zevran had an odd feeling of déja-vu – Airam was behaving just as he had on their way to Flemeth's. And Zevran would bet the reason was the same, as well.

"I was just thinking – this is the best night of my life, you know," Airam said.

Zevran stopped and gently held Airam's elbow, turning him so they were face-to-face. "And it is only the first one of many to come. I promise." What he meant was that there was no need for Airam to worry about tonight, but the crazy mage took it the exact opposite way.

"I know." Airam swallowed. "And we are staying in the palace, with silken sheets, but…"

"But nothing. Allow me to remind you again: I shall not ask of you anything you may not want, like, or be ready for. We have thirty years ahead of us, or so I've been told. You don't have to rush things – not because of me."

Airam looked as if he wanted to contradict him, but then he nodded. "Thank you," he said softly.

"Come, then. Walking is not too bad, but I do not like to stand in one place too long in this weather. I might start losing bits," he said.

"Don't you dare," Airam said with a relieved little laugh; he hooked his arm through Zevran's and snuggled up to him. "You're not allowed to lose any bits, especially not before I have chance to thoroughly inspect them."

He looked so makerdamn sexy, with that impish glint in his eyes and the cheeky smile, Zevran couldn't resist leaning in and placing a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. Thirty years, he reminded himself. He could wait a little bit more for that, no?

The restaurant Shwara had recommended was almost on par with the poshest Antivan places. Maybe even more sparkly. The prices matched the glitter, of course, but the food was delicious, the wine the best he'd tasted since he'd come to Ferelden, and the company superb – with that one worry off his mind, Airam was relaxed and at his best, cheekiest self. When was the last time Zevran had heard Airam laughing like this, loud and carefree and unrestricted? A century ago? It certainly felt that way. Fully worth getting completely broke, if you asked Zevran.

There was something else, however. A feeling, a thought, sparkling and elusive, like a mouthful of the Orlesian wine they were drinking, crouching at the back of his mind, staying out of his reach during dinner. Only when they were back in the palace, as he was pulling the blanket over them, Airam quickly falling asleep in his arms, did it come to the forefront. This was the first time, ever. The first date where he didn't have to perform and pretend, where the weren't any expectations from him, be it as a lover or as a Crow – where all he had to do was to be himself.

oOo

The weeks after the Landsmeet were the busiest in Zevran's life. Airam hadn't lied when he'd told the Landsmeet that Denerim's security was desperate. Now officially the Captain General of the whole Fereldan army, Airam had an office in the palace, and each member of his team had two assistants – except Forbes, who had four accountants under him – but that didn't mean it was easy.

Loghain had been more concerned with the civil war than with the Blight, and most of his forces were dispersed across the Bannorn. It took several days to gather them all at the plain east of the city gates. And it took several weeks to make them accept Airam's 'army of one' when Airam ordered a full mobilisation. Many minor nobles threw tantrums over relinquishing their power to the Wardens, accusing Airam of including Dalish, proper dwarven troops and mages in Eamon's army, but 'common alienage riff-raff', half-legal mages from the Mage Collective, surfacer dwarves, and random foreigners – this last referring to the one thousand men sent to support the Wardens by some Free Marcher noble - to Loghain's former troops.

Several banns had to be arrested, and one extra foolish one who tried to incite a rebellion among the troops executed, before the situation calmed down. Airam's charisma helped a lot. Every day he would visit the troops, talk to them, explain what the darkspawn were, where they were coming from and how to fight them, spar with and without magic to prove his worth, and gradually, grudgingly, they accepted him as a leader. But the stability was fragile at best and wouldn't last long. Already there were rumours that the whole Blight was merely a Grey Warden plot to put their puppet king on the throne. Something needed to happen, and it needed to happen fast.

Or not. They desperately needed time as more and more issues were popping up now that everyone was focused on the darkspawn threat.

Figor Tolban, the owner of Figor Imports, the biggest dwarven shop in Denerim, and one of the leaders of dwarven community, insisted on a meeting with Airam, claiming he had crucial information of utmost strategic importance. But when Airam received him in his office, all the man had to discuss were better prices for dwarven smiths. They were top class and their craft was far above any standard Ferelden production, but they couldn't be expected to produce huge amounts of top quality armour and weapons for standard prices. They didn't demand much, they weren't unreasonable, a mere ten percent would be enough, he said, earning a derisive snort from Forbes, which the dwarf ignored.

For that information, he would be willing to reveal the entrances to the Deep Roads near Denerim, which had been under the maintenance of the Merchant Guild for centuries – indeed, in happier times they would use it to travel to Orzammar much faster than the surface road, but it had been a couple of decades since they had used them now, as the number of darkspawn had been steadily increasing, but they'd never have thought it was announcing a new Blight– He paused, looking down at the wine glass in his hand, now covered in frost, then lifting his gaze back to Airam.

"Let me see if I've got this right," Airam said, his voice quiet but menacing. "Are you telling me there are entrances to the Deep Roads in Denerim that you kept secret despite knowing of the Blight?"

Figor blinked, confused by Airam's intensity. "Not directly in Denerim, but near the western gate. Does this mean we have an agreement?"

"Agreement?!" Airam slammed his fist into the table, the last bit of his patience finally evaporating. "Don't you realize what a threat that is? Do you think the darkspawn won't find it? They could be crawling out of it as we speak!"

"There is no need to worry," Figor hurried to assure him. "The entrance is securely sealed. It can be opened from the surface, if you know how and have all the parts of the seal, but not from the inside. You would need an army to break through it."

"You mean, like a horde?" Airam asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You'll tell me the exact location of any Deep Road exits you're aware of, near Denerim or any other Fereldan city, and you'll do it today. No - you'll do it right now. Or I will have you arrested for treason and interrogated. Your choice."

Zevran was amused to see the dwarf cast alarmed glances in his direction. All of Denerim was whispering about Airam Surana's assassin, who had outsmarted and consequently murdered all the guards in Fort Drakon when the Warden had been arrested. It wasn't exactly true, but Zevran didn't complain. He flashed his trademark smile at Figor, who turned ashen and eagerly agreed to do as the Captain General asked.

That was how they found out there were several major holes nearby every town in Ferelden. Sealed, the dwarves claimed, but Airam wasn't convinced, and sent messages to every town ordering them to fortify the towns and guard the Deep Road exits as well as they could. The dwarves didn't get the short end of the stick, though, as it increased the demand for smiths and masons and their 'fine dwarven craft'.

But despite all the work and worries, it was the best time of Zevran's life. Evenings were theirs, and Zevran was determined to use them to the fullest. No studying new spells, no scrutinizing old Warden journals for hidden secrets! There was a whole night life waiting for them! Airam tried to protest, but without much conviction. And so they spent the nights exploring everything Denerim had to offer – which wasn't much, but enough for the three glorious weeks. From fancy restaurants serving food from all over Thedas, to a tiny, dusty teahouse in a back alley where no two chairs were the same and where they had the most atrocious puff pastries, but where they had shelves with old, torn, dirty books anyone could read for free. Or that is how it'd been before his crazy mage visited the place.

Although the first attempt to get some books was not so successful. Airam had asked the nobles to donate the books they might not need anymore, and soon he got a lot… of philosophical disputations, sermons, and hymns. No wonder no one wanted them! Then Airam asked the Chantry sisters to help him collect books to teach poor people to read, and soon they had a wide variety of romance and adventure books, quite a few of them by Tethras, Airam's favourite author, although he refused to admit it. In one week, the tiny teahouse was transformed into a cosy public library that also happened to serve tea… and atrocious puff pastries.

And then it was over.

One night, Airam woke up with a scared gasp. "It's coming!"

"It was just a dream, amore. Come back to sleep," Zevran said, trying to pull Airam into a hug. Yet another torture nightmare, he thought – even Wynne's strongest sleeping potions couldn't entirely stop them from coming. Normally it was enough to hold Airam tight in his arms and repeat he was safe until he calmed down.

Not this time. Airam pushed him away, scrambling out of bed. "I need to see Alistair," he said in a panicked voice.

"Alistair is sleeping. It's the middle of the night," Zevran said patiently. "Come back to bed. Whatever it is, it can wait till morning-"

"It won't. It can't." Airam looked at him, his eyes wide. "The Archdemon called. The horde will march."

oOo

They met Alistair in the hall, heading to their room. He'd stopped in his tracks when he saw them. "Damn, I hoped you'd tell me it was just a dream."

"Redcliffe?" Airam asked.

Alistair nodded. "I'll send eagles with the message. Even the horde can't gather up and march all the way to Redcliffe in a few hours. There's still some time."

"We're going, too. Right now."

Going to welcome the horde in Redcliffe wasn't what Zevran had planned for today. "It will take days. The river is covered with ice, we can't use a boat. We'll never make it in time."

"Then we'll use sleighs," Airam said. "The Archdemon called the horde to Ostagar. It will take some time until they are ready and then march to Redcliffe."

"We can change horses at the inns, you know. Being a king has its perks," Alistair added. "And if we take covered sleighs, we can ride day and night, no need to stop."

"Okay, then it's decided," Airam said; Zevran didn't feel that way, but he knew it was useless to disagree. "No need to do much packing, only weapons and armour. And provisions – how fast you think your servants can do that? I'd like to leave as soon as possible."

"They'll do it as quickly as they have to. One hour?"

"Two," Zevran said quickly. "We need some time to explain to Eamon and Erwin what's happening and why we're leaving," he said, when both Wardens turned to him. "Unless you want them to come with us?"

"No, they should stay here," Airam said. "Wynne, too. Alright, two hours it is. Let's go."

oOo

'Covered sleighs', they said, and Zevran had imagined a royal cart or at least a wagon with skis instead of wheels. Surely one of the perks of being a king was not to have your ass freeze and fall off, yes? Alas, no such luck. It only meant sleighs with a roof over the seats, but with both sides wide open to the wind and snow. The three day hell ride to Redcliffe was worse than anything he'd undergone during his Crow training, and would give him nightmares for months, as he informed the crazy mage, repeatedly.

But Airam hadn't laughed. The closer they got to their destination, the quieter he became. On the afternoon of the third day, when they could see the castle in the distance, he suddenly turned to Zevran.

"You know… we might not all be able to survive it."

"We've been in countless battles where we faced death. Why bring it up now?"

Airam shook his head. "This is different. The Archdemon… I… it must be me. The one who kills him. And… I… might not- no." Airam turned away, suddenly interested in the snowflakes dancing down the darkening sky. "I won't survive it, Zev."

"You will." Zevran gently turned Airam to face him again. "You will survive it, amore."

"Because of this?" Airam pulled out the amulet Shwara had given him months ago. "You were the one who handed it to me – I assume Grandpa told you about it?"

"All I know is it's a powerful magic amulet and it will keep you alive," Zevran said.

Airam nodded. "This thing, Zevran – I have no idea how or why Grandpa would have something like that, but this thing comes from Arlathan. It's more than three thousand years old, and it's supposed to be lost."

"Are you sure about this? It doesn't look all that valuable to me," Zevran said, surprised. It was small and plain, without any decorations except for a single symbol in the centre, and didn't look very old or worn out. He always thought Shwara had bought it in The Wonders of Thedas or other such shop, and that it was the ritual that mattered.

"The symbol supposedly means 'life' in ancient elvish," Airam said. "But to make it work, you need more than the amulet. You need the ritual. And the book describing it, if there ever was one, is long forgotten. I know Grandpa's been trying to figure it out, he's searching for it even now, but… he might not make it. And if I die, Zevran-"

"Then I'll die with you," Zevran cut in, before Airam could make the one request he'd never be able to fulfil. "I won't live without you, if that's what you want to hear. I refuse."

Airam swallowed. "Remember when I told you it was selfish and cruel of me to wish for you to stay? That it would break your heart?" he asked. "You are my strength and reason I've gotten this far. In death, sacrifice." Airam laughed bitterly. "I'm not as selfless as that, Zev. I've spent so many hours looking for a way out of this – a different way to kill the Archdemon, a spell that might save me, anything. There's nothing. But if there is no way to avoid it, then I at least want it to be worth it. If I am to save the world, I need to know you'll be in it. Alive, and happy."

"Even you can't ask for that," Zevran whispered.

"But I am. I'm asking you to promise me that if I die you won't shut your heart again, like after Rinna's death. I'm asking you to promise that you'll do your best to live, love, and laugh. Promise me, Zevran."

Never in his life had Zevran felt as helpless as in that moment, as he stared at Airam's determined face. Live, love, and laugh, without Air? That was as likely as swimming on the land or walking in the sky. He pulled Airam into his arms, burying his face into Airam's hair.

"You will not die."

Airam sighed and closed his eyes and remained silent for the rest of the trip.

oOo

Redcliffe was ready, Kardol reported. They'd received the message two days ago and had acted on it immediately. All the citizens had been evacuated to the castle, and the army was positioned at all strategic locations. The field and roads from the Korcari Wilds were also covered in as many traps and glyphs as their rogues and mages could put up in such a short time. The darkspawn should be here in a few hours, the scouts had said. But they'd seen no Archdemon so far.

Thank the Maker! May the cursed beast never appear at all! Or at least until he got a message from Shwara that he was ready. Wasn't he supposed to be a genius? No matter how ancient it was, he should've learned the ritual by now!

He kept his thoughts to himself, however. Airam and Alistair went to the army camp to give them a pep talk before the battle. The talks weren't much – Zevran never saw the point in it, anyway – but the very fact that their Captain General was there and fighting with them seemed to encourage and calm them down.

Five hours after their arrival, and only half an hour after they had retreated to the command post – because both fools flat out refused to returned to the castle – they heard a noise like a heavy storm rolling into town.

The horde had arrived.

oOo

Night was already paling when the battle finally ended. Zevran was tired, hungry, soaked to the bone in disgusting darkspawn blood, and in desperate need of a bathroom, but he was alive.

"We did it!" he said to Airam, who was slumped on the ground next to him, in equally bad shape. "Your 'mixed races' tactic worked!"

"It's more thanks to Kardol's strategy than anything I've done," Airam said heavily. "But don't get your hopes up. It might not be over yet. I don't think this was the whole horde. And the Archdemon didn't show up. We need to regroup and get ready."

Despite his words, he didn't make any effort to get up; instead he leaned on Zevran. "Or we can wait here," he said after a while, with an embarrassed laugh. "I'm too exhausted to walk. Mana burn, it seems."

Zevran frowned. He'd seen this happen before – when they'd fought Flemeth, Wynne had used so much of her magic to keep them alive it took her almost two full days to recover her mana. Not even lyrium potions had helped. If Airam was right and this wasn't over yet, he'd wouldn't be able to cast any spells. His only chance to survive was to get to the relative safety of the castle. Zevran scrambled to his feet and reached out his hand. "Come on. If you can't walk, I'll carry you."

Airam burst out laughing. "You'll be lucky to carry yourself for more than two steps," he pointed out.

"And once again you doubt my skills." Zevran pulled him up and put an arm around his shoulders to support him. "When you feel better, I'll have you do one hundred sit-ups for that."

"Is that so? Alas, as much as it pains me to admit it, I'm afraid I won't feel well enough for them for quite a while. Ever, in fact."

Zevran wanted to reply, but then the thundering noise came back, and the ground trembled. Already? Brasca! This wasn't good, it was-

"There you are!"

– just Shale. Zevran sighed in relief.

"Are you injured?" the golem asked; sounding almost worried.

"Just a few shallow cuts. Nothing serious," he said. "But our fearless Commander is too exhausted to walk and talk at the same time."

"Then it is serious," she said. "I will carry him."

"Absolutely not!" Airam said, to zero effect. Shale gathered him in her arms like a baby and headed straight to the castle, Zevran hobbling along as well as he could.

"Alistair said he needed to talk to you about the darkspawn, urgently. He's already at the castle, but you wandered off during the battle. Why didn't you stay close to the rest of us?"

Zevran snorted. Why indeed? It couldn't have had anything to do with the horde of darkspawn crashing over them like a tidal wave, screaming at the top of their lungs, an insane gleam in their eyes, their axes and swords unleashed, no?

"Nothing to say, Warden?"

The only answer the golem got was a soft snore. Airam was fast asleep.

oOo

"This is bad," Alistair said, walking anxiously around the room that had once served as Eamon's study, but was now used as their command post. "I need to talk to him now. Can't you wake him up? He doesn't have to use any spells, he just needs to listen!"

"I could," Morrigan said. "But it would make his recovery much longer. If he sleeps now, he might be back to normal this afternoon. If he wakes up just to listen to your blabbering, he might not be able to cast spells for at least another day."

Zevran noticed Daria glance at Morrigan. She didn't say anything to contradict her, but perhaps he should have a little chat with her. Later. Now there were more pressing matters.

The fight had gone quite well – the new system of combined forces proved effective, and the presence of a healer in every company helped to minimize losses – they'd lost a couple of hundred, while the horde had lost at least fifteen hundred before they'd turned and fled. Their own team had done well, too. All of them had survived, and none were seriously injured except Oghren, who had been stabbed in his left shoulder. Faren and Sten were also injured, but the healers said it was nothing serious. Shale was uninjured and helping Kardol repair the barricades in case the darkspawn returned.

But so far everything was quiet. As far as the scouts could see, there was no horde and no Archdemon anywhere nearby. The humans and Dalish took it as a sign of victory, the dwarves were less optimistic, and Alistair was downright panicking. That was why he'd called for an urgent meeting with Zevran, Leliana, Morrigan, and Daria to discuss what to do next. And with Airam, of course, but the mage was still firmly asleep.

"Alistair," Zevran said. "Now's not the time for self-doubt. I admit that half a year ago I would not have trusted your decision. But you have grown a lot in the meantime, and you are Airam's trusted Second. So whatever it is, out with it."

"I agree," Leliana said. "You are a wise man, Alistair and a fine leader. I am sure Airam would say the same."

"You don't understand." Alistair ran his hand through his hair. "It's not… I don't doubt myself. I'm just not sure what I'm sensing. It doesn't make any sense."

"You mean the 'Warden sense'?" Daria asked, leaning forward.

"Yes. I can feel it. The Archdemon. It's near, but distant at the same time… I think it's underground."

"In the Deep Roads near Redcliffe?" Daria asked. "We received your message, and covered every inch of land within a three mile radius of the entrance with glyphs and traps. If they try to break out, we'll know it immediately."

"Yes, but that's it. They're not trying to break out. I can feel the Archdemon and the darkspawn – and by the Maker, it's so strong. There must be the whole horde down there. But it seems they're just… waiting. But why? Why not attack now? The darkspawn are not supposed to be clever and strategize. They're all about brute force and crushing the enemy with all they have."

"I do not know, but it helps us, too. It gives us time to regroup, shore up our defences at least a little bit, and get ready for the next move," Leliana pointed out. That was what Zevran had originally thought, but after seeing Daria's frown, he wasn't so certain anymore. Still, she'd said nothing, so he wouldn't bring it up, either. Another thing to ask about later.

"That is surprising, but it is still as Leliana said, no?" he said, instead. "Whatever it is the Archdemon decides to do, we will know, and we will be ready. Do not let worries cloud your mind. You need to stay calm and alert now."

"I guess you're right," Alistair said, still unconvinced.

"If that is all for now, I need to see to my sons," Daria said, getting up. "Zevran, would you mind coming with me? This might be our only chance to talk, and I want to hear everything about my husband!"

oOo

Zevran was surprised to see how much the little caterpillars had changed since he last saw them; they actually looked like humans now. Somewhat. They still mostly ate and pooped their diapers, but now they managed to stay awake to do it for a few more hours. Which was supposedly a great achievement that he should praise. Yet he had to admit that when Daria put the one named after his amore into his arms, and the tiny thing stared at him with those huge eyes, it was... odd. It made him feel fuzzy inside and he caught himself smiling at the thing. Wouldn't it be great – no. He quickly handed the kid back to Daria before he turned all sentimental and started talking in childish gibberish.

"I will be more than happy to tell you anything I know about your husband – which is not that much, I'm afraid – but I think you had another reason to call me here, no?"

Daria put the children in their crib and gestured for him to sit down. "You're right. What Alistair said about darkspawn acting unnatural… it reminded me of something. They might not be strategists, but Airam told me he believed there was something – someone – who had directed the darkspawn at Ostagar, making them attack the weak points in their defenses."

"Flemeth," Zevran said. "I know about that. The others didn't think much of it, though. They thought he was exaggerating."

"Maybe," she said. "But what if he's right? And what if the same thing's happening again?"

"But at that time Flemeth was nearby, in her hut in the Korcari Wilds," he said. "She's not here now… is she?"

Daria just stared at him, patiently waiting for him to figure out the obvious.

"Morrigan?" he whispered. "But… why would she do it? She's been nothing but loyal so far. Even when she left she watched us from afar and came to our rescue when we were in danger…"

"No. She came to Air's rescue, when he was in danger," she corrected him. "But I'm not accusing her or anyone. I'm just saying that you should consider all possibilities. And be careful. That's all I'm saying."

oOo

He left Daria half an hour later; they had chatted some about Erwin and Denerim, but it was mostly a formality, as if she were giving him an alibi should someone ask what they'd talked about.

When he reached their room, he found Morrigan leaning against the wall next to the door. "There you are. I want to ask you for a favour. When Airam wakes up, I need to talk to him. It is crucial for his survival."

"What do you mean?"

She shook her head. "Not now. Not here. Just make sure to let me know when he wakes up. This might be his last chance."

It was obvious she wouldn't tell him more, so he didn't insist. But he would insist on being there during their talk – or he'd spy on them, if necessary. No way he was leaving Airam alone with her, after what Daria had said. "As you wish. I will give him your message."

oOo

Airam woke up late that afternoon. His mana still wasn't fully replenished, but he claimed he could use lyrium potions now, if worst came to worst and the darkspawn attacked.

"Hopefully not before dinner!" He paused in front of the mirror, frowning and irritated, running his fingers through the hair. "I'm so hungry I could eat you – although, you're quite bony, now that I look at you."

It was simply begging for a dirty reply – a bit too obviously, in fact. Normally, Zevran would be more than happy to oblige. Right now, however, he was a bit preoccupied with things such as Airam's impending death.

"Morrigan wanted to see you. She said it was crucial for your survival, and your last chance."

Airam sighed and turned away. "And she told you. Not fair. But she never played fair, did she. She makes her own rules…"

"Wait a moment. You know what she was talking about?" Zevran crossed his arms.

"I do." Airam slumped back on the bed. "She approached me with her offer, as she calls it, right before we left for Redcliffe. She also asked me to keep it between us."

Zevran sat down next to him. "What offer?"

"You remember when we talked about the amulet? It was Morrigan who told me about it. I tried to find something about it in Erwin's books, but there wasn't a single word. She knew all about it. About the talisman and the ritual and how Grandpa plans to use it to save my life, and how she doubts it would work. She had another, safer option. Guaranteed success!" He gave a little, hysterical laugh and cuddled up to Zevran, who pulled him into a hug.

"What option, amore?"

"To - to have sex with her," Airam said. "Not normal sex, you understand," he quickly added. "A ritual. A sex ritual that would guarantee she would get pregnant. Normally, when the Warden kills the Archdemon, its soul gets shattered, you know, along with the Warden's soul. It's called 'the ultimate sacrifice', and the sole reason why the Wardens exist. If anyone else kills it, its soul will just transfer to the nearest darkspawn."

"Yes. Your Grandpa told me that much."

"Poor Duncan! Trying so hard to keep it secret - it's supposed to be the greatest of all Warden secrets! It didn't seem his effort was successful."

"Nevermind Duncan now. How does sex with Morrigan save your life?"

Airam pulled away to look him in the eye. "You say it so calmly. You wouldn't mind?"

"No. Not if it guarantees you will live." If his assumed jealousy was the only reason Airam had refused the offer, he'd arrange the ritual this very night.

"If I fathered a child with Morrigan and killed the Archdemon, its soul wouldn't shatter. Because of the ritual magic, it would be transferred into the baby's body, replacing the baby's own soul. And because the baby would be untainted and protected with magic, it would be born as a human, with its power locked away."

"And then?"

"She wouldn't say. That's none of my worries; she'd leave right afterwards, and I'd never see her or the child again, and could have my happily ever after with you. And… for a moment, I was so tempted. There's nothing I want more than that. Nothing." Airam's eyes filled with tears. "I don't want to die yet, Zevran. But I can't live at that price. It would poison everything, even you and me."

"I understand." Zevran hugged him again. There was no way his Airam, this pure soul always trying to fix the world, help the poor and save the suffering, would ever agree to kill a baby and put a demon's soul inside its body. Morrigan had to know that, too. It surprised him that she'd even tried. Unless there was something they didn't know yet.

"Why you? Why now? If she wanted a demon baby, she could've used any Warden, no? Even Riordan. He wouldn't be in a state to refuse. Maybe she is just trying to save you, amore."

"Wardens can't have babies," Airam said. "Except fresh recruits. The Taint changes something in them, and not even magic can change it back. The longer it's been since you drank the cursed blood, the less likely it is that you'll father a child. I was recruited less than a year ago, so I still might have a chance. Alistair's chances are next to zero. Or so she claims."

How convenient. It had nothing to do with the fact that Alistair never liked the witch much, and any hint of forbidden magic or dark rituals that replaced babies with demons would make him give her to the Templars to tranquil her, yes?

"I don't want to do it." Airam buried his face in Zevran's shoulder. "You won't ask me to do it, will you?"

Zevran closed his eyes. He could push Airam into it, he knew. It wouldn't be too hard, as meek and insecure as Airam was these days. But would he be able to live with himself if he did that? If he destroyed all that Airam was, all the selfless innocence that was the very reason they were together? Could he be happy, watching Airam loathe himself for the rest of his life?

"How many times do I need to tell you? I shall not ask of you anything you may not want, like, or be ready for."

Airam's shoulders relaxed. "Thank you."

"It will be alright, you'll see. You will be fine. You will not die."

Zevran wasn't quite certain who was he trying to convince more, Airam or himself.

oOo

The darkspawn moved during the night, but they didn't attack. They moved on. To Denerim, both Wardens said.

It was the best sign of how well the new army worked: everything was packed and ready within one hour. They marched in grim silence, at double speed, with minimum breaks for food and sleep.

They still got there too late.

The sky was orange over Denerim, the air full of ashes and battle cries. The plain was covered in crimson snow and corpses. Mostly darkspawn, Zevran was relieved to see, but there were also many humans and elves, their faces forever frozen in agony. The gates to the city were broken and burned, and the walls were crumbling.

And there, up in the sky, circling around the city, hurling fire and bringing terror, was the one thing they had both dreaded and hoped to see: the Archdemon.

The army stopped on top of a hill, watching the hell that was the city below them, darkspawn spilling over the streets like an ocean of pure hate, the Archdemon hurling fire at the Wardens' army, and their resolve faltered. Who could hope to fight that and win?

"People of Thedas!" Airam called, walking in front of the rows of soldiers, criers repeating his words so that everyone could hear it. "Here we are, at the gates of Denerim. The city is breached – but it is not, and will not be, defeated! We will not fall! We won before and we will win again! These monsters are no match for us. They do not have your courage, your strong hearts, your unwavering determination. They're nothing but worms that crawled out of their holes, but we're going to send them right back and bury them alive! What is there to be afraid of? One overgrown lizard? It is huge, and it can fly, yes. But it, too, is mortal. Four times the people of Thedas have faced a monster like that and four times we've been victorious! We will win this time, too! Because no one monster is a match for us when we stand united! Today we fight as one and we win as one! The Blight ends here and now!"

The soldiers raised their weapons and roared, eager to fight and kill.

And then they moved. Thousands of men sprinted to the wide open gate and poured into a city, swooping down on the darkspawn like demons of revenge. Nothing could stand in the face of their fury!

Or something like that. Zevran had never been much of a bard. He was an assassin, trained to use his skill to kill people and then retreat to safety, so that was what he did. Except he was killing monsters, and there wasn't much skill involved, just slashing, stabbing and hacking, and as soon as you killed one there were two others rushing at you, baring their rotten teeth. There was nothing heroic or glorious about it.

He pulled his dagger out of a hurlock and kicked its body away. A blast of icy air made him turn. Airam was standing with his hands on his thighs, panting, while one of the soldiers shattered the frozen genlock. Not good. Airam was determined to fight without magic as long as possible, to save it for the Archdemon – but they were no closer to getting to the dragon than they were when they'd first entered the city, at least three hundred darkspawn ago.

The darkspawn themselves wouldn't be a problem. Alistair was right – they were an unorganized mob without any tactical abilities. They couldn't compare to the well-equipped, coordinated troops who had been training for this day for months. It was that Maker-damn overgrown lizard that was the problem.

Wherever it swooped down it brought death and chaos, scattering companies with one swish of its enormous tail, stomping them to death, or worst of all, snatching them up only to hurl them to the ground. The shrill screams as they plummeted to their deaths could make your blood turn to ice as efficiently as one of Airam's spells. Archers and mages tried to bring it down, but it would just soar up again, out of their reach. They brought out every single ballista in the city, but so far it hadn't had much effect. If only there was a way to pin it down!

There it was coming again! Swooping down from the sky, it smashed everything in its way in its relentless pursuit of Airam! Brasca! Did it finally sense Airam's tainted blood?

"Fire!"

Arrows flew through the air in a parabolic arc as they closed on their target, the dragon's wings. It answered with a stream of fire in their direction. Zevran heard someone's wild, agonized screams as he pushed Airam away.

"Again!"

Another array of arrows found it's target, but although its wings looked looked like the pincushions of an a half-blind elderly Orlesian lady with exceptionally bad taste, it didn't seem to be troubling it too much. Up it raised, but –

Everyone gasped as a man jumped down from the roof, landing on the dragon's back. It roared and shot straight up, trying to shake the man off, but whoever it was held tight. What good would that accomplish? Another heroic but pointless death. Dragon scales were too thick at the back; there's no way a single person could slay him under these conditions. But the brave lunatic wasn't trying to kill it. The dragon's flight became erratic, his left wing dangling at a weird angle.

"It's going to crash!" Airam said next to him. "Come on – we must get to the Archdemon before it's too late!"

Zevran sprinted after Airam, fifty or so soldiers at their heels, cleaving their way through the streets, watching the wretched beast above their heads fly ever lower, crashing into houses, dragging its tail on the road, sending the cobblestones flying, until it finally collapsed at the main market, crushing the stalls to smithereens.

A triumphant roar shattered all the windows that had survived the dragon's plight, as every soldier rushed forward to attack it with all they had.

"Paralyze it but don't kill it!" Airam yelled at the leader of the company – one of Kardol's dwarves. "I repeat, you must not kill it! It must be killed by a Warden, or all will be in vain!"

"Understood, Commander!" The dwarf regrouped all the soldiers in the area: the soldiers attacked its legs while the mages aimed for the eyes, trying to blind it with fire and lighting balls.

The dragon was determined not to go down easy. It turned its head and emanated a high-pitched shriek that stopped the soldiers in their track.

"It's calling the horde!" Airam said. "Get ready everyone – here they come!"

Every single darkspawn left in the city, in Ferelden, and quite possibly in the whole world, now emerged from the streets, determined to lay down their lives to protect their leader. Fortunately, that meant all their soldiers were now headed toward them, too.

It soon turned into chaos – messy, loud, dirty, body liquids spraying everywhere, like a bad parody of an orgy no one enjoyed. And in the center, a dragon and a man. A boy, really. A boy who now stood quiet and focused, ready to change every little bit of his mana into strength and to sacrifice himself for the world.

Why though?

If someone else killed the Archdemon… It would move to another darkspawn, yes. So what? The Blight wouldn't be over, but this battle would – most of the horde destroyed, and the Archdemon reduced to a common, wingless genlock, it would have to retreat, no? It would come back, yes, but they would be ready. They could collect jars upon jars of its blood and recruit as many Wardens as necessary. One of them could be the hero and kill the Archdemon. Or give the demon baby to Morrigan. And his Airam would be safe.

If only someone killed the Archdemon first.

Zevran wrapped himself in shadows, coated his daggers in his most potent poison, the one he'd saved for a chance like this, and, carefully avoiding the soldiers and darkspawn, bolted for the dragon.

Aim for the heart.

Only a few steps left. Blinded by the lightning and deafened by all the commotion, the dragon didn't sense him coming, running between its huge clawed feet, never suspected the danger was so close to its heart. Zevran lunged forward and plunged his daggers into the dragon's chest. All the way to the hilt! It roared, rearing at its hind legs, trying to find and smash him but he rolled away. One more time should do it.

"Zev, no!"

Airam wrapped his arms around him, pulling him away. "No, love. Leave the rest to me."

"I won't watch you die! I'll storm the Dark City if I have to, but you're not dying today!"

Airam swallowed. He turned Zevran to face him, and joined their lips for the briefest second. "I love you, Zevvie. Live in my stead." And he pushed him away, his inhuman magical strength hurling him yards away. He lift his sword. He ran it through the dragon's heart.

It took all of two seconds. Zevran never had a chance to stop him. To tell him he loved him too. He could only watch as the dragon wailed, a huge pillar of light erupting from its body, piercing the sky, framing Airam's figure, making it shine like a statue of victory, sword raised high.

Then Airam crumbled over the dragon's body and the world turned to darkness.

When Zevran came to his senses again, it was all over.