Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all its characters belongs to Bioware. Had I been in charge, the game would've been known as "Naked Zevran and me". Sadly, it's not.

This is my first attempt at Dragon Age fanfic ever, so be gentle. I'm still in the learning process.

1: After the joining

Alistair couldn't help wonder where she'd gone. A new and fresh warden to keep him company, and then she just disappears like that. Poof, gone.

-Uh. Duncan? The new warden, the city elf – where is she?

-Ah, Alistair. I believe she's of the kind that you'll just have to be patient with. Keep in mind that she's a city elf, straight out of the alienage. How did you feel, the day I brought you out of the Chantry? I do seem to remember that it did take you quite a while to adjust to all the people that suddenly surrounded you. I seem to remember a young man that furiously blushed every time a woman glanced his way, if I am not mistaken.

-I guess you're right. But Maker, she chops off darkspawn heads like they're dolls, but she hides from me? I don't know if I should be a little insulted or... well, more insulted.

As Duncan laughed and sipped to his ale, Alistair decided to let it go for the night. Maybe she was allergic to humans, and just found out now because she'd spent her whole life in the elven alienage. Ah, yes, that had to be it. Content with his excellent deductive skills, he decided to find his bedroll and get some rest. Grey Warden joinings always took its toll on him, as did hunting down the new recruits.

.oO0Oo.

Everywhere she turned, there were men. No matter where she found her way, humans had already settled. "Race does not matter here, my young Warden. Here, we are all Grey Wardens, every man, and every woman. "Dwarf", "elf" or "human" only tells about your past. Your future is as a Grey Warden." Those were the words Duncan had uttered. Kallian had just nodded, letting her gaze flutter among those around her. They were all... men. She might've seen a few women, but they too had been of the human race.

No matter how hard she tried, her heart fluttered when she made eye contact with one of the others. She did her very best to hide her insecurities – if there was an opening for an arrogant comment or an invitation for bravery, she'd take it. Battle was not hard; she could keep her ground better than most. It was the time between that killed her.

Slowly sighing she looked into the fireplace in front of her and hoped that she'd grow tired enough to go to sleep soon, that her pulse would lower enough for rest to find her. Waiting, she skeptically watched those who walked by, while her fingers distantly played with the ring located at her left hand. How was she ever going to grow accustomed to this life?

I'm writing this to add a bigger story to the playthrough I've got going on, and I guess that knowing a bit about the city elf background does help a little in understanding everything. Hope you enjoy!