A/N: Here we are. My first ever completed fanfic! I wanted to write this. I think they should have a happy ending in the end after all. Heh.

Disclaimer: I wish Dragon Age: Origins was mine. Seriously.

When my world is falling apart,
When there's no light to break up the dark,
That's when I, I, I look at you.
When the waves are flooding the shore,
And I can't find my way home anymore,
That's when I, I, I look at you.
-When I Look at You, Miley Cyrus

Epilogue: For All Eternity

He opened his eyes.

The darkness was absolute, but surprisingly, Zevran felt no fear. In truth, he felt far more buoyant than he'd ever felt since seizing leadership of the Antivan Crows. As he slowly regained his bearings in this dream-world, the blackness gave way to light. Golden rays snaked through the darkness like tendrils and cracks in the ground. The shadows fled, chased by the warmth of sunlight. It grew brighter, and brighter, until Zevran couldn't keep his eyes open, even for a fraction of a second.

Then suddenly it dimmed.

He was standing in a chantry. Which chantry exactly, he didn't know, but it was just like any other chantry in Ferelden. Vertically long. A faint, ethereal glow hung at the edge of every object, as though it was insubstantial. Yet when Zevran laid a hand on the massive, closed ebony doors behind him, they felt as solid as they could be. Shelves lined the walls, and rows of benches filled half of the spacious room. There was a pulpit, and behind the pulpit, the statue of Andraste. Zevran could just imagine the Revered Mother standing there and preaching to a group of hapless humans, quoting verses from the Canticle.

"Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls…"

He couldn't recall the next line. Zevran walked forward, his leather boots barely making a sound on the wooden floor. He peeked into the Revered Mother's room. It was empty, and littered with books. He walked back to the doors and tried to open them. Locked. He bashed his fists against the door. Why was he locked here? Was this the Fade?

He went to the bench. Sat down. Closed his eyes and tried to think. What was the last thing he remembered? He remembered… being in his room. He remembered the door flying off its hinges as a group of men barged in. He remembered… sounds. The clashing of swords, the grunting of warriors. He remembered the roar of magic, the shattering of glass.

He remembered a flash of silver.

"Am I dead?" He wondered aloud. Was the Maker pulling some kind of sick joke on him, for having slaughtered so many innocent souls in his life? Now that he probably wasn't alive, it seemed reasonable to assume that he had been imprisoned here as payment.

But hadn't he already paid the price?

Zevran rose, and stepped onto the pulpit. Once, he had had a dream of himself standing here as a priest, teaching the people about the Maker. When he'd woken up, he'd laughed about it. The day he could do that was the day when the darkspawn vanished from this world. It would never happen.

The assassin fingered the page that the Canticle had been flipped to. "Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls," he read quietly, running his fingers over the finely written lines. Funny, he'd been thinking of this verse just a second ago. He sighed, feeling oddly at peace. For the last decade or so, after Alistair's Calling, Zevran had lived without mourning. He'd lived as the head of the Antivan Crows would. He hadn't let himself wallow in grief and self-pity anymore. He was living for too many souls to do that. And all along, a conspiracy was brewing among the new recruits. Zevran had known, but he had done nothing to stop it. Living irked him. He yearned to be by her side. Where was she?

"From these emerald waters doth life begin anew."

Zevran froze.

The doors opened just a tiny crack, letting in a bit of sunlight. It didn't fully open, as though hesitant to reveal its secret. Slowly, Zevran let his hand fall from the Canticle as the door then creaked open. The light illuminated the silhouette of an elf, standing at the entrance. He couldn't see her face clearly, but he didn't need to see that to know who it was.

"Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you." The voice was unmistakable. Zevran practically flew down the aisle, stopping in front of the figure. Surana's radiant smile lifted his spirits far higher than they had ever gone in his lifetime. "You're hopeless, Zevran. What's the next line?"

"Who cares?" Zevran beamed, "I am… I am speechless! What do I say? Is this the Fade?"

"It could be," the mage answered testily, "I've wandered this place for ages, though. Sometimes I see your dreams. I tried to reach you through them, but you don't ever answer me."

"I do not remember dreaming about you."

"Naturally not. You're blind that way." Surana smacked his arm lightly, the playful smile never leaving her lips.

He drew her into a long, warm hug. It was an embrace that held all the years of pining and yearning for her in it, and Surana responded in kind. He wanted to weep and laugh at the same time. "I missed you," he murmured, ruffling her hair, "so badly."

"I know." Her voice sounded muffled, as if she was holding back a sob. "I missed you too. I wished I hadn't asked you to live on."

He snorted. "But I am glad you did. It makes this much sweeter, my heart. It is nice to see that you retain your gorgeous curves."

It was Surana's turn to smirk. She wisely didn't answer his remark. "I love you."

"I love you too."

They pulled away. Several heartbeats passed as they simply stared lovingly at each other. Finally, Surana whispered, "In my arms lies Eternity."

"What?"

"The last line." Surana grinned. "It's the verse they recite during funerals, I think. Never attended many myself."

Zevran rolled his eyes. "What's out there?"

"The Fade."

The assassin peeked outside, and he smiled, taking her hand. "I suppose it would be prudent not to enjoy each other's… company… in a chantry, no?"

Surana laughed. "Is that all you ever think about?"

"Hardly, my heart. Now, I intend to make good on a comment I made to you a long time ago. Shall we storm the gates of the Black City, then, now that we are both spirits… so to speak?"

The mage snorted. "Don't we have eternity now? Let's do that later. I'm tired of storming places." She dragged him outside and pushed him to the ground. Zevran laughed. The chantry faded from existence. Despite the bleakness of the Fade, it felt like heaven to have the elf lying next to him. It was heaven, to be able to touch her, to feel her, to love her all over again.

They did not speak of the past. They did not reminisce about the good old days, which had ended so painfully. They did not need words to tell each other how they felt. It was shown for all to see in their actions, in their kisses, in their caresses. And Zevran knew with certainty that their separation was over. Their new life had begun. They were together now.

And they would be, for all eternity.