It took Alistair a whole day or two to reach his destination, the south lands around Ostagar. He had no map on him, nor any weapons - which, in hindsight, was a rather large mistake on his part as he traveled through the wilds and relied on any herbs within the saddle bags for sustenance to last him to his destination.

To where his exact destination was - even he didn't know. The King was simply following the words of the city elves in the Alienage and their Keeper, whom was on his advisory board now... She would have appreciated that.

Despite there no longer being darkspawn upon the surface of the world, there were still dangers that lurked in the wilds - bandits, wild creatures, and worse things that were crafted from magic and left to their own accord to do whatever ill they desired. Dusk was soon approaching as the sun started to settle along the horizon and still, he pressed his horse onwards, which often whinnied angrily in response.

Just as the sun was about to fully disappear and Alistair was starting to think his search was all for naught, something caught his eye in the distance. It was a bright light, as though a beacon, and shadows appeared to sway and dance around it in an almost mesmerizing pattern. It could have been a trap set up by an apostate or shade - but with no other place to turn and the sounds of wolves howling in the distance as they were starting to head out for their hunt, the light source was as good a place to try as any...

The Dalish danced around a rather large bonfire that rose almost as tall as they stood. A feast of fruits and cooked game were set up along long tables and the most fragrant teas and spirits were ready to be served. Music met the sound of the crackling flame as the elves danced and were merry. Tonight they dined and celebrated in honor of their Creators. The people were joyous, and this was rare. Some of the clans had come together to live with one another in the newfound lands that the King had bestowed upon them. They now had a home and were still celebrating as progress forged on.

For the moment, small wooden homes, huts, and aravals that housed tents dotted the landscape as many of the Dalish from numerous clans had just ended their long journey to the place they now call home.

Sitting along a wooden log bench, an elf sat and watched the celebration unfold before her, but there was little humor and spirit upon her face as she glanced about, expecting any sign of human bandits to make themselves known.

"You're doing it again, Kathalla." The voice came from a familiar sounding suave rogue.

Kathalla glanced up to see Zevran with two female elves on either arm and a wide grin upon his face. "We're only going to be here for a few more days, you know. You should be celebrating!" With a grin and a wink towards his female friend, he offered, "I know I am."

Kathalla scoffed, "It looks like you're going to celebrate enough for the both of us..."

"Not unless that's an actual offer, my friend. The more, the merrier, no?"

Unable to help herself, Kathalla was able to manage a smile at Zevran's suggestion. She was used to his demeanor. Despite his frequent flirting, she had come to accept the fellow elven assassin as a close friend with whom she decided to travel with and learn from after leaving Denerim. "I appreciate the thought," came out in a soft tone, "but I don't think I'll be much fun."

"Ah, suit yourself." Releasing the women at his sides, Zevran knelt down before his friend and playfully added, "I'll get you one day. Until then, might I suggest you try and be cheerful for the evening? You'll regret this mopiness when we leave."

"I'm not moping, Zev!" She retorted towards him while sucking on her teeth, thus proving him right. "Someone has to stay guard amidst the drunkenness." It was a good excuse as any.

As though on cue, right after she spoke those words, excited shouts and calls were heard from the edge of the settlement. They weren't signs of alarm - quite the opposite, actually. They were shouts of excitement, but they still caught the attention of both elves.

"I always miss the fun," Zevran teasingly bemoaned as he stared off at the distance, wondering what he just missed.

A male elf then quickly approached the two of them. He was donning costume vestments for the celebration and a mask that resembled that of a Halla head. "There you are, Lethallan!" A hand extended towards Kathalla. "Come, your friend has arrived."

Kathalla blinked and quickly exchanged a confused glance between the man and Zevran. "My friend? ...My friend is right here," she indicated towards Zevran, who also appeared thoroughly dumbfounded on who the man could be speaking of.

"No, another one!" He excitedly exclaimed as he took the Warden's hand and lead her away from her seat on the bench, seemingly almost dragging her away from the festivities.

Even with the lure of the women around him, it wasn't enough to get Zevran to just outright ignore his friend, especially right now. He quickly whispered something between the two women on his arms, who tittered girlishly in return, and then drew out his blades, dashing into the underbrush to keep track of Kathalla from the shadows should things go wrong - or this 'friend' be out for possible blood.

"Where are you taking me?" Kathalla questioned the man in her native tongue. It soon became clear as he took her to a spot and released her hand. There was already a crowd of elves surrounding whoever was there. They laughed, spoke in kind words - whatever she was able to hear, and blocked her view of the person.

"Thank you, I appreciate the thoug- Oh, that's... Too kind... Yes, I - Wait, what?"

That voice! It couldn't have been him. It must have been the tea that was causing her to think she just heard...

"Alistair!"

Kathalla quickly looked to her side to see Zevran come out of the shadows with a wide grin upon his face and arms extended to greet the other man. It was him... She could feel the very blood within her veins run cold and her face growing paler by the second. All that the Warden could do was stand there in shock at the sight before her.

Eventually, Alistair was able to make his way out from the crowd of happy elves to greet Zevran. "You were the last elf I'd expect to see here, you know," he chided playfully before moving to hug the Antivan assassin. Alistair was dressed in the finest clothes that would fit a King on his days around the palace, much different from the blood-stained armor that he used to wear as a Grey Warden.

Still, Kathalla watched in stunned silence as the two men laughed and conversed lowly towards one another before Zevran pointed in her direction and winked towards her knowingly - letting Alistair know exactly where she was standing. He was going to be a dead Antivan, she thought to herself.

As his attention turned onto her, Alistair saw that she was the only one who was still in armor and not ceremonial dress. Even still, she looked as beautiful as the day he saw her with those exotic elven features and long brown hair. The other elves eventually parted and returned to the ceremonies to leave the two be - the two that saved their world and granted them land to call home. "Hello, Kathalla," came out in a low purr towards her as Alistair smiled brightly in her direction and approached her, as though nothing had changed between them at all.

Still, she stood there. Kathalla's eyes moved over his form, as though it was foreign to her - well, the clothes were, and she remained ever silent and wide eyed. Yet, the sight of his boyish looks and the sound of his voice elated a small part of her deep down that she wish she could deny. The thoughts that suddenly started running through her mind were almost dizzying. Was this real? Did someone spike her tea? Why was he here?

"I see you still got a way with the ladies," Zevran teased Alistair as he approached Kathalla. But she even disregarded his movement and couldn't take her eyes off of the human before her. That was until she felt a sudden sharp pain at her arm and quickly flinched away from Zevran, grabbing at the spot that just hurt. There was a sharp and loud curse towards Zevran in elven - something he wouldn't understand. "Did you just pinch me?" She barked towards him in an accusatory tone.

The Antivan laughed and shrugged lightly. "You look like you saw a ghost. Would you have preferred deathroot on the tongue to snap you out of that school girl daze?"

The reaction he was probably looking for never came. Instead, her gaze darkened towards him for a moment before she looked towards Alistair. The look held that same iciness he felt after his coronation, and it caused him to take a step back from her, the smile fading from his face.

"I did," she retorted loudly before glaring dead on at Alistair, "I don't associate with dirty Shems." There was a momentary pause before her voice raised a hitch and she withdrew her dagger - Duncan's, from its hilt. "Leave! You're not wanted here."

"Woah, hey now!" Alistair quickly countered as he raised his hands in the air in a defensive motion. "I'm unarmed, that's not exactly fair." Despite his bravado, the nervousness was apparent as his voice cracked a bit towards the end of that statement. But, he then cleared his throat, gaining that assertive tone back. "Kathalla, I'm not here for a fight, I just want to talk... I want to apologize."

The elf's grip tightened around the dagger and she visibly sneered at his words. But just as she was about to speak, more than likely to angrily yell towards Alistair, a light hand fell upon her arm...

"Sheath your weapon, Lathallan. This is a time for celebration, not bloodshed," The Keeper, Lanaya said in a calming tone. Obviously, she was alerted to what was going on. Turning towards Alistair, she smiled at him. "We are honored to have you here, Alistair. Please, join us in our festivities. It has been too long since we last spoke." She then moved to take Alistair by the arm and lead him away from Kathalla and the growing hostility the Warden was exhibiting.

A 'tsk' sound escaped from Zevran as he moved towards Kathalla. "I admire your tenacity, but for now, you really should relax, no?" He then moved to catch up with Alistair and Lanaya. "Here," he unsheathed one of his blades and handed it towards Alistair. "Next time, you'll be armed," the Antivan offered his friend with a teasing tone.

Kathalla glanced over her shoulder to watch the three of them depart, heading towards the celebration, but she did not follow. Instead, the woman inhaled a sharp breath as she tried to relax herself. The sudden tensing of her muscles as she went into fight mode was obvious by the white knuckles that gripped at her blade. This was a night for celebrating – a communal yearly event that all should enjoy. Yet, the Warden suddenly wished that the night be over as soon as possible.

Her hands relaxed and she replaced her blade within its sheath before heading back to her bench to sit down and watch the festivities as she was doing earlier – except this time she was keeping an eye out for a certain human amongst her people. The foreigner. The Shem.