A/N Lanaya's prayer isn't my own! Thanks to everyone who is reading and especially for my reviewers, you guys are awesome!

Merrill watched her clan's human guest as she sat before the fire, looking thoughtful. "Is there something else you wanted to ask, da'len?"

Lenaire traded glances with Daron again, and the elven boy nodded supportively. "Keeper, the Dalish and humans are so different…how did a Dalish woman fall in love with the king?" The question was larger than just that, Merrill knew, but she chose to answer only what was asked.

"He was not the king at the time, da'len," she reminded the girl. "But even so, you are correct, he was human and she Dalish. We may be different, but at the core, my people and yours are not so dissimilar. We breathe, we feel, we love – sometimes even each other."

She paused, considering just how to explain to the two children a concept that could forever alter two lands and ensure the Dalish future for some time to come. "It did not happen all at once, of course. They fought the Blight for many months before they even began to realize feelings towards each other. I do not think they would have said any one thing caused them to fall in love. They were very similar, after all, and the only members of their order remaining.

"It seems that love often blooms in adversity, perhaps to help us endure, and those were indeed dark times. So while it is not a common thing for those of our people it was, perhaps, only natural that they would come together, being so close for so long with the same desperate goal.

"There were many things they had to overcome, most especially the hatred and mistrust that has existed between our peoples for centuries, things that affected them even though they were friends and comrades already. And then there were their own fears and doubts…but I should stop talking and simply tell you the story, shouldn't I?"

-~0~-

Alistair stood off to the side with the rest of their companions as his fellow Grey Warden spoke quietly in the Dalish tongue to the woman who called herself Keeper's first explaining, he assumed, what had happened in the forest and in the elven ruins. He supposed the woman, Lanaya if he remembered properly, was clan leader in her own right now, since Zathrian had sacrificed himself to end the werewolf curse.

The older elven woman was nodding sadly. She reached out to place an arm on the Dalish Warden's shoulder and said something in a reassuring tone.

"What is it you think she is saying to her, hmm?" purred a voice over his shoulder. Zevran. Somehow the elf could take the most innocent things and twist them into something…dirty. Even just hearing his voice grated on Alistair's nerves. He still had no idea what had possessed Kara to spare the elf's life after he tried to assassinate them but it was one of the few times that Alistair had openly disagreed with her plan of action. He only hoped it wouldn't come back to haunt them later.

Alistair decided to ignore Zevran in favor of watching Kara as she continued to converse with the clan leader. Some of the tension in her bearing had eased – he supposed that Lanaya had taken the news as well as it could be taken, given that her beloved leader had been discovered as the root cause behind the werewolf curse and had fueled it for centuries with his hatred. He knew the knowledge weighed heavily on Kara, though she had spoken little of it since they had departed the ruins. He'd seen it in the darkness in her eyes and the confusion he saw there though she had declined to talk about it, to him or anyone else.

Lanaya pitched her voice louder and switched to the King's tongue, addressing all the companions now. "Karaleyna has told me all that happened. Ma serranas, thank you, all of you, for helping to end the curse that plagued my people." She looked back to Kara, though she continued to speak in the King's tongue for all of them. "We would be most pleased if you stayed, for the rituals for the dead tonight and for Cammen and Gheyna's bonding. You are, after all, the reason for their union."

He could see how much she wanted to say yes, he knew how foreign and out of place she felt in the human lands. And he could equally see that she was going to say no, that duty to defeating the Blight would override that desire. Alistair looked around, at the companions who stood around him. They were all tired, all nursing cuts and strains and sprains from the battles against the werewolves. Wynne especially looked worn after keeping them all in shape through the past fights. Morrigan, too, was still recovering from the werewolf bite. She was supposedly cured of the curse now, not that he could see any improvement in her temper. But maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing for them, all of them, to rest for just a few days.

"I am sorry, I do not think we can stay…" Kara was saying, shaking her head regretfully.

"Would it be so bad?" Kara turned to look at him in surprise at his interruption. "I mean, I don't think that the archdemon is going to show up in the next few days, and we could all use a break. What better place than here?" Alistair continued. He drew closer and lowered his voice confidentially. "Wynne especially could use some rest, don't you think?"

Elven eyes flicked towards Wynne, registered the droop in the elderly mage's posture and the exhaustion written there. As he hoped, concern blossomed in her grey eyes over their elder companion's well-being and for the rest of their group, more concern than she ever showed for herself.

Kara looked back to Lanaya. "If Alistair does not disapprove, perhaps a few days would do us all good."

The other elven woman nodded decisively, pleased. "It is settled then. There is time for all of you to clean up and rest before evening – I will arrange for it."

-~0~-

This was home, or as close to home as she had been in many months. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend that she was back in her own clan camp, surrounded by beloved faces. The smell of Sylaise's fragrant moss burning in the fire, accustomed spices flavoring the meat and roots for dinner, the sounds of the Dalish tongue all around her, it was all right.

Opening her eyes cracked the illusion though. The faces were almost correct – delicately boned elven faces with mirrored eyes and pointed ears like her own, decorated with vallaslin like those that she knew. But beyond that, it was different, and the familiar faces were those of her companions – humans, qunari, and the singular elf that she traveled with but whose face carried markings other than those of the Creators upon it.

Kara looked for them now, wandering about the camp before the funeral rites began. Wynne was with Lanaya, comparing healing herbs, it seemed. Zevran was trying to charm an elven maiden or two, though Kara doubted that he would have any luck with insular Dalish women. Leliana sat with Hahren Sarel, who had unbent long enough to trade tales with the human bard. Anari romped merrily with some of the clan children, while Sten stood off to the side, impassive as always. Morrigan was nowhere to be found, but that was not in the least bit unusual, though Kara still remained concerned for the witch's well-being. And Alistair…

She ran into her brother Warden coming around an aravel, startling them both. His expression flashed from surprise to appreciation in a moment. "You, ah, look nice," he stammered. "I mean, what you're wearing."

"This?" she said, looking puzzled down at the plain skirt and shirt she wore. "The women of the clan have given me some of their things, since I lost my own at Ostagar. It is nothing special." He still flinched when she named the place, though his expression was not as pained as it had been months before, when the wound was fresh. Alistair was healing from those wounds, slowly but surely as time passed.

His own clothing fit looser on him, she could see that without the usual armor masking the slack. The past few months had been much hard work for all of them, and only what food she could hunt or they could purchase – fine enough for a Dalish used to a spare life, but it bled the excess flesh from them all, even when they had lived no easy life in the past.

"I just mean to say that I've never seen you in anything other than hunting leathers," Alistair was saying. "It suits you."

"Thank you, Alistair," she said with a smile. "This is not practical on the hunt, but it is nice to have something other than leather to wear! It's only a shame that none of the hunters' wear will fit you."

He laughed at that. "I think I'd look a little ridiculous in those robes, to be honest. What about you?" he asked, shifting the subject. "It must be nice, being back with your people."

She gave him a little shrug in reply. Had he somehow known what she was thinking? "It is…strange. Many things are the same, and yet I no longer feel like I belong, quite. Even were this my clan…it is still different."

"Hmm, yes, I know what you mean," he said. "Being back in Redcliffe, there were lots of memories, some fond ones even. But it'll never be home again, not now."

She nodded thoughtfully. "That is it, exactly. There is much here that I love and that I miss, but I am a Grey Warden now. Much as I wish, I cannot go back."

Alistair looked relieved. "Good, I'm glad to hear that. Not about not belonging or anything," he corrected himself. "It's just….I admit I was afraid that you'd want to stay here."

"Stay?" she repeated, surprised. "Why would I stay?"

"It's just that…all of this," he said, waving a hand to indicate their surroundings. "I thought maybe you would want to just stay here, instead of going back to all the darkness out there. I don't think I'd blame you at all."

Kara stepped closer to him and laid a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. "I am a Grey Warden now, Alistair," she repeated. "Before anything else, I will finish this fight by your side."

A quiet, nervous cough interrupted them before Alistair could reply. "Ir abelas, lethallan," a young elven man interjected uneasily. "The Keeper says it is almost time to begin, should you care to join us."

"Ma serannas, lethallin," Kara replied, turning towards him. "Tell the Keeper we shall be there shortly."

"Ma nuvenin," the young man responded with a slight bow, his polite reply marred only by a curious glance at Alistair, before he left to gather up others.

"Shall we?" Kara asked her brother Warden, who motioned for her to lead the way.

"So what exactly is happening tonight?" he asked as they walked.

"The clan will bury their dead, now that there should be no others to follow them," Kara explained. "They will sing songs for them and of them, to keep their memory alive and to call the Creators down to guide them home to the Beyond, even though it has been long since they answered us."

Alistair mused on that for a moment. "If they don't answer, why do you keep calling?"

"Is it any different from your Chantry? Are they not also calling to an absent god, hoping that one day he will hear and return?" she rejoined.

He chuckled at that a bit. "True enough, true enough. It's a common trend with those god types, it seems." They were getting nearer to Hahren Sarel's fire now, where the entire clan was gathering. "So this ritual tonight, this is what you did for Duncan and the others, right?"

"In its fullest form, yes," she replied. "What I did paled in comparison, but I had none of the proper elements available to me." They had come to the edge of the gathered clan, and Lanaya rose to greet them.

"Andaran atishan, lethallin," the Keeper said, welcoming them to the circle. She motioned for Kara and Alistair to join their companions as she continued speaking. "This is a very unusual situation, for the Dalish to allow anyone outside our people to see such a ritual, but you have been of great aid to us in our time of need, asking for nothing but that which was already your due. Tonight, then, we welcome you all as friend, be you of the elvhenan or not. In your honor, we will use your King's tongue where we can, so that you may know what it is to be a part of the Dalish."

Lanaya turned to face her clan, gathered around her. "Come, let us pray to the Creators, lethallin," she invoked. "All-Father, may you forgive our part in this tragedy. Would our sons and daughters have died if not for our pride? Falon'din, Friend of the Dead, may you guide our sons and daughters safely into the Beyond. And most of all, He Who Hunts Alone, the Dread Wolf. He will come for us in the end, but today he turned a blind eye, and for that, we are thankful."

She paused here, and at the cue, the clan spoke aloud as one, Kara joining them as they recited the familiar refrain. "For we are the Dalish, the Keepers of the Lost Lore, the Walkers of the Lonely Path, and never again shall we submit." All remained quiet as the bodies were laid to rest in the earth, so many hunters who had lost their lives to Zathrian's curse, and as the dead were wrapped in the earth's embrace and the fragile saplings planted above, the clan began to sing.

"In Uthenera" the song was called, from the days when the elves did not die but merely slept, a willing departure from the world to make way for newer generations. No elf lived long enough for uthenara, the waking sleep, now, especially not in such times when death stole them all way too soon.

They had sung the dirge far too often of late, this clan and her own, and it never ceased to bring an ache to her heart with each loss the clans sustained. Too many young hunters and artisans, with all the lore and knowledge and life that went with them and with every loss the clans were lessened. Uthenara was supposed to have been a time for rejoicing, a time to remember and give thanks for the life that had gone before, but there was nothing but sorrow here.

Another voice had joined the refrain, one familiar from evenings spent camped close together on the road, and Kara turned in surprise to find Leliana joined in song with the clan. Her pronunciation was occasionally off, but she was true in lyric and tone. Kara wondered how it was that a human woman, even a bard, raised amongst humans had come to know a Dalish song and resolved to ask her of it at the next opportunity. For now, it was enough to treasure the surprising solidarity, and hope for the day that the two peoples could one day all be so close.

The solemn song continued for several rounds as the bodies were given to land, falling silent as the last of the earth fell. The stories would begin soon, told by family and clanmates so that the fallen would not be forgotten, Kara knew. She did not expect the voice that called out for her.

"Grey Warden, will you tell us of Zathrian's end?"

She froze, not sure how to answer. She had given Lanaya the pure unadulterated truth – as Keeper it was Lanaya's responsibility to know so that the lessons learned from Zathrian's fall could be shared with the generations to come. And it was Lanaya's right to tell her clan the truth of how their Keeper had lived and died. Kara shot a glance to the other elven woman, and received a nod in reply, which was a vague enough answer.

She pondered the answer for a few moments longer, knowing that she would have to give it soon. "Keeper Zathrian was a good man, though he was far from perfect," she said finally. "At his end, Zathrian acknowledged his misdeeds and paid for them, and in doing so, he acted bravely, and for the good of his clan. He died a hero, and the clan should be proud of his end."

She ignored the soft snort of disbelief to her side and focused instead on the murmur of appreciation from the clan. It was all they needed to know for now; Lanaya could sort out the entire truth for them later. In all honesty it still ate at her, that a Keeper would cling so to vengeance and hatred that he would harm his entire clan in his pursuit of justice that was no longer justice.

It was the weakness of her people, she thought sadly, to cling to past wrongs beyond all reason and to lash out at others who were not at fault at all. It horrified her, this illogical pursuit of vengeance when there was so much evidence that the world was not the way that jaded eyes wanted to believe it was. There was so much good where others wanted to see only evil.

The humans were a prime example – she would trust Alistair with her life and more, knowing that he never saw her as less than his equal in all things. There were more than enough humans who saw elves as chattel, she knew it from her own experience. But they were not all that way, and the good…it was worth fighting for, worth caring about, worth protecting.

Zathrian, she hoped, had learned at the end that vengeance could destroy that which one was trying to avenge. And she hoped that it was a lesson that his clan would take to heart, to change their world so they could change the world they lived in. It was the only way that they could live in peace, that the Dalish could thrive, that they could have any hope of reaching their former glory.

Kara stayed in the circle, half-listening to the tales as she mulled over her own thoughts until she found herself falling asleep where she sat. With the whole clan present, one attendee more or less was not important, and Lanaya had made it clear that their party was not expected to keep vigil all night, not after the battles with the werewolves and forest denizens. With that in mind, she rose wearily and made her way towards the aravels set aside for their use.

"Grey Warden." She had fully expected her companions to leave with her, but there was something in Sten's voice that caused her to motion the rest on as she paused to look at him expectantly.

"What purpose do such lies serve?" There was challenge in his voice, and the hint of impatience that found its way in ever more often of late.

"Lies?" she repeated. "I told no lies to the clan."

"You speak of this Zathrian as though his actions did not weaken the people he claimed to protect," the qunari warrior replied. "It does not benefit the elves to believe that he did otherwise. It is, in fact, the opposite."

"It is not so simple, Sten," she tried to explain.

"Perhaps you make things far too difficult," Sten retorted. "If the Dalish are too weak to hear the truth of their leader, how will they be strong enough to fight against the darkspawn?"

"The Dalish are strong in ways that you do not understand, Sten." She tried hard to keep the weariness out of her voice, though she was dubious of her success. "When we call, they will answer, and you will see why the shemlen fear Dalish arrows."

Sten watched her for a moment longer, looking unconvinced. "Parshaara. We go nowhere with this." With that, the tall qunari turned on his heel and departed for the men's aravel. Kara waited several long moments before traveling in his wake to where the women were staying.

Alistair was waiting for her there. "I heard what Sten was saying," he said simply.

"It is not important, Alistair," Kara answered, trying to deflect whatever he had intended to say next. She was far too tired to deal with whatever it was.

"I just…I just wanted to say that I think you did the right thing, telling them what you did," Alistair continued. "What Zathrian did…it took courage to end the curse after so many years, at the cost of his own life. It was the right thing to do, and I think he saw that, in the end."

"Anyways," he said, moving away from the aravel and back towards his own, "I just wanted to say something, that the rest of us trust your decisions and your lead, no matter what someone like Sten says."

It surprised her, a little, how much the simple statement of faith warmed her. Alistair always complained about not knowing what to do and about always feeling awkward when he did do something, but his instincts were often on target. There was much good in the humans indeed, exemplified in this man though she doubted he knew it.

"I would not be able to do this without you, Alistair," she told him with a warm smile.

"Well, that's what I'm here for!" Her fellow Warden played it off as a joke, but she could see he was pleased and just a little embarrassed as he left for his aravel and his bed. She made her way to her own rest with refreshed hope that their two peoples would one day exist peacefully together after all.