Dawn slowly made its way over the horizon and the sun started to creep higher into the sky the next morning, the light poured its way into the windows of the small hut, coming to land on the faces of both Kathalla and Alistair. She stirred and slowly woke up, although the sun hurt her eyes more than usual. Her eyes were red and swollen from the amount of tears shed.

Kathalla moved. She found that they were no longer on the floor, but in the bed of the spare room - still clothed from last night. Her mother must have asked Zevran to help move them both. Slowly, she rose, and her body ached as though she had been sparring for hours. A backwards glance was offered towards Alistair, who remained fast asleep. He didn't sleep much on his two days of travel to find the new Dale encampment so he was in a deep slumber now.

She then rose, and slowly staggered her way out of the room. Kathalla felt utterly drained and exhausted - a feeling she always hated.

"How is he doing, Dal'en?"

Kathalla looked to see her mother sitting at the small table with a cup of tea and some food upon her plate. She was old, well into her years with grayed hair and a wrinkled complexion, but she was still sharp as a nail. "He's sleeping," was the simple response back to her mother.

"And that mark...?" Her mother indicated by tapping along her cheekbone, pointing out that she saw the bandaged wound on Alistair's face.

"He'll be fine." It was another simple response to a simple question. Kathalla wasn't in the mood to discuss and fight over her actions from the previous night. Her mother knew of her daughter's growing impulsiveness of late and didn't approve of it.

She moved to the window as her mother poured Kathalla a cup of tea, which she took and continued to glance outside. The large fire still smoked. Whatever remained of the feast outside was picked apart by the wild creatures they shared the woods with - a gift for them as well. Hardly anyone stirred from their tents and huts, and it seemed as though everyone was feeling like she had, but for a different reason.

Of course, not everyone was quite as hung over and content to stay asleep like many others. She caught sight of Zevran leaving a tent and fixing his shirt on the way out. A smirk appeared upon her face as she watched him quietly make his escape from whatever women or men he bedded for the evening.

As sure as the daylight returns every morning, he quietly approached her hut and offered a light rap against the door. Kathalla assured her mother of who it was, who made a face in return - having mixed feelings of her daughter associating herself with the Antivan elf, before she opened the door to let him in.

"Thanks. I'm usually good with good-byes, but I do not want to be in that tent when their partners wake up," he grinned in self-amusement. Looking towards Kathalla, Zevran added, "So how is the dirty ol' Shem doing, huh?"

The Warden remained quiet and instead chose to hide her face behind her cup of tea.

A smirk appeared on Zevran's face as a brow arched upwards curiously. "Oh, so you two made up, yes? And I didn't even have to drug either of you. I say that's a fine start to the day!" Of course, since he did help her mother move Alistair, he already knew that and was teasing her. "So, how was your night, my friend? Did you have yourself some tasty little morsels with the King?"

The last comment of his immediately caused Kathalla's mother to start choking on her tea at the mere thought before she could recover and toss Zevran a dirty look.

"Good morning to you too, m'lady!" He cheerfully offered towards her mother, smiling wickedly.

"We slept," Kathalla corrected him to further save herself any added embarrassment.

"Well, yes, I got that across. I slept last night too."

With a sigh, Kathalla added, "No, we actually slept, and he's still sleeping."

"Oh," Zevran started, a bit disappointed. "So, that bandage on his cheek wasn't from a love bite?"

Now Kathalla visibly pinched at her brow in annoyance, "Creators grace, Zevran!"

The Antivan grinned shamelessly. "Oh, you love it. If you didn't, you wouldn't have chosen to travel with me for so long, no? So, deal with it, sister."

And, yes, he was right. She knew that much. The three of them set down at the table while the elves outside slowly arose from their slumber in the late morning. They conversed of different things: traditions and new ideals, of certain rites of passage and the meanings between the Dalish and the Antivan, as well as other matters. It wasn't until the afternoon had come that Zevran decided it was safe enough to head back outside again and Kathalla's mother left to help the settlement with whatever work she could provide. They had both left the Warden to be alone to her thoughts...

The door to the bedroom finally opened some time later, and a very confused and groggy Alistair made his presence known with a loud yawn. "How'd I end up in there?"

"Zevran," Kathalla replied towards the human.

He paused and glanced around himself, as though making sure he was still in one piece. "I am so not going to ask for details on that..."

The response, which was so characteristically Alistair, caused Kathalla to smirk towards him as he approached and moved to plant a light kiss upon her forehead. "I hope you slept well, at least."

She nodded towards him. The smirk didn't last for long though, as all signs of amusement left her face rather quickly while she still glanced towards Alistair. "And you?"

"Fantastic, considering I haven't slept in days. But, I'm really hungry right now." He glanced around the small hut for anything that looked remotely edible, and quickly pointed towards the overflowing sack of herbs that were moved since last night. "And don't you dare tell me to eat that stuff again!"

Kathalla didn't. She got up from the table and went to the hearth, which had its fire snuffed out hours ago. "Here," she returned before tossing a bowl in his direction. The elf was careful enough to not allow the contents to spill as she offered it to him. It was a vegetable stew that had bits of red meat in it, hare, and it was cold.

Alistair didn't protest the cold stew, but he did sift through its contents with a wooden spoon for a moment, trying to decipher what he was going to eat.

"I didn't poison it," Kathalla scoffed.

Blinking in confusion, Alistair looked up and offered, "I didn't think you did..." He then gathered a spoonful and popped it into his mouth. It wasn't bad tasting, actually. The stew was quite savory, yet lacked the sweetness that he was used to. After taking a few more hungry spoonfuls, he decided to brave a table conversation with her. "Do you remember that time at camp when we were all talking about the food we missed from home? I said I missed bread pudding the most and you... It was some dessert, right? What was it called again?"

Kathalla offered a sidelong glance in his direction with little amusement in her features, "Manera."

"Right!" He beamed at recognizing the word. "Wasn't that the pastry with berries and nuts?"

The elf nodded.

"Can I – you know, try it?" Alistair started. "I mean, if you have any or your mother was going to make some."

His question elicited a dark gaze from the elven woman. "Are you requesting that I cook for you, King?" She asked with a scornful tone.

"What? Wait... Oh, no-no-no! I mean... If you had any, I was interested in tasting some after you told me about it. I didn't mean for you to actually cook or anything special for me," was his reply in a flustered tone.

"While we're at it, do you want to make a request for me to scrub out the dirt and blood from your clothes?"

Just as the spoonful of food was about to reach his lips, Alistair paused. "You're not starting this again, are you? It's too early for this."

"It's the afternoon," she corrected him.

"Right, same thing," He returned to his bowl of food, but not for long. Alistair knew that he was setting himself up for a let-down, but simply had to ask. "You don't actually have spare clothes I could borrow, do you?" Pause. "I mean, I could just go shirtless or whatever – and I'm sure you wouldn't mind, but asking couldn't hurt, right?"

Kathalla's shoulders slumped and she shook her head in disbelief. "You came here, to a Dalish encampment, knowing there'd be dirt and mud, dressed in silks. Then you ask me for a change in clothing when you stand almost a good two feet taller than my people... Are you serious?"

Alistair blinked once more. "Well, I-I hadn't really thought of that... But, nevermind, you're right. Foolish of me to ask. I'll shut up now."

The silence lingered in that hut for a long while and well after Alistair finished consuming his bowl of stew. He sat there, glancing around the hut, taking in the subtle details while Kathalla sat at the far end from him and thumbed that figure of Andruil within her hand silently. Eventually, Alistair broke the silence with a smirk and a wry, "So, when do I get to meet your mother?"

The elf stopped playing with the figure in her hand. She didn't look towards Alistair – not yet, at least. "You're not. You're leaving."

"What?" To this, Alistair laughed. "What on Thedas makes you think I'm just going to leave?" Pause. "Wait, where are your blades?" His voice was filled with concern as he glanced around the immediate vicinity and peeked under the table to see if the blades were in the belt of her armored skirt. Another dagger to the face would be a good reason to leave, of course.

"They're in the bedroom. I'm unarmed," she rolled her eyes before standing and walking towards him. "Here, I don't want it anymore." It was the wooden figure in her hand that she was offering to him. "You've overstayed your welcome though."

With as much as Alistair wanted to call her bluff, he didn't. His brow furrowed as he saw the figure being offered back to him with those words, as though she were casting it aside with him. Regardless, he took the figure from her, but also reached for her hand. "Kathalla, I'm not leaving until we talk," he admitted in a low and sincere tone.

Her reaction was to flinch away, but she didn't and allowed her hand to be taken. Still, there was an indignant look upon her face. "We did that last night. I have nothing else to say..."

"No, you didn't," Alistair started in a calm yet stern tone. "Speaking in elven so I can't understand what you're saying is not talking to me. Last night was... Emotional and we needed that. But we're not done."

Kathalla bit down on her tongue as she listened to him. "Then talk."

Alistair sighed and released her hand, shaking his head. "You're impossible to talk to, you know that? I don't know what happened, but you changed so much. What happened to the girl who used to smile? The one who saw good in everyone and wanted to help as many people as she could with words before ever using a blade?" Now feeling the frustration on his end, because it was like talking to a wall at this point, Alistair ran a hand through his hair, trying to stay composed. "It's like there's no rationality to you and you're a slave to your emotions at this point." Quickly, before she could say anything, he pointed towards her and added, "Because you're a woman – not the whole elf thing that you keep bringing up."

"People change," Kathalla started, still in that bitter tone. "You said so last night."

"Oh, by the Maker... Now you're twisting my words and using them against me!" Alistair started. He wanted to slam his fist into the table and yell, but deep down, he had a feeling that it was exactly what she wanted – him to get upset and walk away, just leave. He didn't come here to give up now. "Stop doing that and actually talk to me, Kath!"

The anger was starting to bubble just beneath the surface and her muscles grew tense as the fight mode kicked in. Yet, the elf didn't react. Instead, she turned away from him, leaning her back against the table's edge, and looked towards the far wall. One may have thought that she was turning him away, and Alistair did think that. But she was gathering her thoughts, trying to compose herself before actually speaking and asking, "Do you have yourself an heir yet?"

It may not have been exactly what Alistair wanted to hear, but it was a start. "No," he returned in a low tone. "Eamon keeps presenting me with more noble women each day. They're too blue-blooded. Stuffy... I know there's pressure, but I don't want any of them. They're not you."

That's when she glanced over her shoulder to look at him curiously.

Alistair smiled. "Liked that, huh?" He teased her. "Come on now, where's that smile? You know you want to..."

No smile ever appeared upon her face. Intentionally, but still, she wasn't in the mood to smile.

He sighed. "Really? Not even a tiny one? ...Fine."

Again, the silence filled the air as Alistair sat at the table and she stood, leaning against it and looking away from him. It was almost symbolic, if it didn't hurt so much.

"How's Vorith?"

"He misses you a lot," Alistair offered. "You should have taken him here with you. He's your Mabari hound, after all. Poor thing whimpers all the damned time unless I'm there with him."

"No, he doesn't belong here," Kathalla shrugged.

"What? Sure he does. You've seen how he loves to roll around in dirt and pee on trees."

Again she turned to look towards him – but this time the gaze was cold.

"Hey, don't give me that look again! ...I meant he'd like it because there's dirt and trees here." Pointing at her again, he adds, "I know that mind of yours just totally warped my words into some hateful thing about your people."

Mockingly, he added, "The Dalish are nothing but disgusting bandits and thieves. They don't deserve to have any rights." Looking right at her, he then leaned back in his chair. The tone in his voice changed as he very bluntly added, "They're all scum-suckers and whores, the knife ears and flat ears alike."

Quickly, she turned on him and pressed two fingers to his neck. Leaning in, she quietly noted, "I don't need a blade to kill you."

As he sat there, with her fingers lightly touching a pressure point, his eyes narrowed. "A little trick you picked up from your Crow friend? I always saw the way he looked and flirted with you... Have you slept with him yet? Because that's all knife-ears are good for, right?"

Kathalla's eyes suddenly widened in shock against his accusation, "How could you say that! You know I'd sooner give him a swift kick than do that with him! He's like a brother to me."

As she spoke, Alistair felt her fingers twitch. "But all elves are the same. How could I trust you?" His words were precise and deliberate. The elf's fingers flinched before she pressed only slightly harder, threateningly. It wasn't enough to actually do anything though. Glaring at her, Alistair sneered. "Do it. You already made me bleed and threatened me. Just get it done with already if you hate me that much, Kathalla."

The tension in the air was hot enough to spark a fire. But neither of them moved for the longest time. The heated stares were all that were exchanged, but eventually her fingers faltered again – even started to shake. There was a sharp inhalation before Kathalla withdrew her hand from him and turned away, defeated. She couldn't cry anymore, there were no more tears to be shed, and it just stung and hurt her eyes at this point. The elf couldn't harm him anymore, because she knew how she felt deep down inside.

Immediately after she spun around, Alistair's gaze softened, as well as his tone. He didn't want to do that, but sometimes you need a sledgehammer to break down a wall. "Not fun, is it?" It was the same crap she had dished out to him the previous night, only thrown back in her face to see what it felt like. Kathalla didn't verbally respond, but she did shake her head in response.

Alistair stood from his seat and wrapped his arms around her, lovingly. "Talk to me, Kath," he whispered as his arms lightly squeezed at her shoulders. "I'm sorry I hurt you, I really am."

Kathalla leaned against him and closed her eyes, relishing in the feel of the warmth in his embrace. "You're just going to leave again," she whispered back with little strength in her voice. "Nothing will change." She paused and shook her head, adding, "You could have stayed with me. I-I could have hidden in the palace. No one would have had to known."

"I thought of that, I really did. But I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me that if I asked that of you, you wouldn't have turned it down. You're Dalish, you're wild and free... That-That would be like locking a songbird in a cage." He squeezed her lovingly again. "You would have hated it, and I couldn't do that to you."

He was right. She just never thought of it. Turning so that she could look up into his face, Kathalla asked, "When are you leaving?" Her tone was a bit sullen, relaying that she didn't actually want him to leave, despite pushing him away earlier.

To this, Alistair sighed. "I don't know. By now the royal guard are searching for me. I don't want them finding me here. That wouldn't be good for your people." A hand rose to brush away some hair at her cheek in a delicate manner. "I'll try to stay as long as I can though. For you – and us." He then leaned down and attempted to brush his lips against hers in a kiss.

With all of the pain they were throwing at each other, the two of them were practically wounded, but Kathalla didn't object to his motions. She leaned up on tip-toe into his kiss, remembering just how warm and sweet he tasted. When their lips parted, there was a shuddered exhalation. The elf missed that more than she was willing to admit. "You hurt me, Alistair," was whispered as she leaned against him.

"It hurt me too," he admitted lowly while embracing her. "If I could have ended it any differently, I would have. But we both know we couldn't let Anora take the throne. She would have either locked me up or executed me... And we needed to deal with the Blight." He paused before admitting lowly, "It wasn't fair to either of us."

"I know," Kathalla lowly admitted in regard to Anora and the arch-demon. "That didn't make it any easier, though." Her arms wrapped around his form and she leaned her head into his chest for comfort and support. "If I was human—"

"Don't," Alistair started, silencing her words as he looked down at the elven woman he loved. "You are beautiful, rare, exotic, and the strongest woman I have ever met. I wouldn't change anything about you. You're perfect the way you are." He then suddenly frowned. "If Cailan didn't die... If I didn't have royal blood in me, this would be so much easier." A long winded sigh escaped from his lips as he then uttered, "You're not the issue here, Kath. I am. This is all my fault, and it has been since I was born."

Now Kathalla looked up at Alistair and her features darkened in concern. He had shared the stories of his past with her and she knew how he felt about his lineage and the way he was treated. It always saddened her to hear him speak of it, even now. "Please, don't think of that right now," she commented quietly. "You can't help what runs in your blood, just as I can't help being the race that I am."

The statement struck a chord between the both of them because it was so very true on both sides. They both had their reasons where even in a perfect world, their relationship would have come into question. The fault couldn't have been pitted on either of them because it was determined before they were even born or knew of each other.

The two stood there, holding one another for some time, silently, as they relished in the scent and warmth of each other's arms. There were no tides or fires to overwhelm them this time. At the moment, there was only clarity – something the two had been desperately seeking for some time.

After a while, the door to the hut suddenly opened. It was enough of a fearful and sobering moment to get the two lovers to quickly part from one another, fearful of who may see them. An elf and a human in loving embrace. It was only Kathalla's mother. Her expression started as bright but then slowly faltered as she watched the two quickly part, as though they were doing nothing at all but standing there near each other. The older woman's gaze lingered on the two silently for a moment before she finally spoke up. "Dal'en," she beckoned with a hand before speaking in the elven tongue to her daughter.

To her mother's words, Kathalla quickly replied with a nod and headed out of the hut, for whatever reason, Alistair couldn't understand. As she left, Alistair was stuck there, standing in awkward silence as he watched Kathalla's mother. She watched her daughter head towards another hunt to help some of her fellow clansmen before fully stepping inside the hut and closing the door behind her. There was a deep inhalation before she looked towards the human with a sobered expression. "Please, sit, Alistair. I need a moment to speak with you..."