Author's note: Just completed the sacred urn quest, and have gone into Orzammar... so I have a bit more material to draw from for the fic. Enjoy.

"Alistair, a word."

I groaned inwardly. While Wynne was by far and away the more pleasant, and less bitchy mage, she could be downright... snarky... and she liked to pick on the young happy people a bit too much for my tastes. I watched her warily as she walked around the fire to reach me.

"Don't give me that look," she chided gently, reminding me that I have trouble keeping my thoughts from my face, "I'm not going to tease you," a ghost of a smile curled her lips, before the concern returned to her face, "I'm worried about Liftrasa."

"Perhaps you should mention that to grim guard," I said flippantly, "They're the ones with her right now, I'm here in the camp with you." I hated being left behind, as childish as that sounded.

Wynne frowned, giving me a disapproving look that was a match for those given to me in the Chantry, "Alistair, now isn't the time to be childish or defensive. I honestly want to talk to you about something important."

I crossed my arms. The only person that could call me on my behavior without me resenting it was our peerless leader. "Then talk."

She sighed softly, and made a placating gesture, "Alistair, you weren't with us when we went through the Gauntlet to get the Urn of Sacred Ashes. She still blames herself for her brother's death, and considering what I heard yesterday, she likely blames herself for her father's death as well."

"Yes, I had noticed that," I replied dryly. Why did everyone think I was just some stupid oaf, only capable of swinging a bleeding sword? "But I don't know what you want, or expect me to do about it. Even if I did know what to say, and I don't, it's not like I could say it anyway, when she's there, and I'm here."

"You blamed yourself for Duncan's death," her voice was very gentle and very understanding, "I think that's a good starting place. As you well know, she's a very giving person, and she hates to see her friends suffer. All you have to do is bring up your misplaced guilt, and when she tries to talk you out of it, turn it back on her."

I scowled slightly, not liking the way the proposal was being framed, and liking the fact that it might work even less. "Right. So as soon as she walks into camp I just ambush her and whine at her?" I scoffed, "I'm dealing with it on my own, because I don't want her to feel like she has to deal with it, and if she's sucking it up and pulling through, the least I can do is the same!"

I watched Wynne's stance shift, and she put her hands on her hips. Shit. I recognized that posture. "Alistair," her voice was sharper than a sword and twice as deadly, "She's not dealing with it, she running from it, and you know that as well as I. You're not as stupid as you want people to think," I wasn't sure if I should be happy that she thought I did it on purpose or not, "and you're certainly more attentive when it comes to her. I want you to think about what you saw yesterday and look me in the eye, and tell me that you think she has it under control."

I dropped my gaze, feeling like a child being scolded by the clerics again. It was hard not to shuffle my feet and mutter an agreement under my breath. Instead I sighed, "Look I'll... talk to her about it, if she'll talk to me, but I don't promise anything, alright?"

"All I ask is that you try." Which of course translated into 'Fix everything up properly and don't mess it up, you rotten little bugger,' just wearing a nicer hat. She offered me another ghost of a smile, "If anyone can get through to her, it's you, of that I'm sure."

"Right," I said, and rubbed my face. How the hell was I supposed to bring it up? I didn't want to use Wynne's method, partially out of spite, and partially because I didn't want to add my problems onto Liftrasa's. I sighed and shrugged inwardly. At least I had time to think about it... and maybe by the time she re-emerged she would have worked through it on her own...

Have I mentioned that I am occasionally an idiot?

As it turned out, I only had until breakfast the next morning to plan. I'd only just gotten something to eat, (thank the Maker Leliana can cook, because I certainly can't) when the sound of bickering came across the clearing.

"... understand why we have to drop everything we're doing to take some fool little girl's request all the way to the Circle of Magi!" Morrigan was protesting, "I'm sure the darkspawn will be so impressed by your willingness to act as a messenger. Oh, I know! Maybe they'll recruit you as their herald to tell all of Ferelden that they're doomed!"

I was sorely tempted to call out an insult when something I had never before seen happened. Liftrasa stopped in her tracks, and rounded on the Bitch of the Wilds. She drew herself up, not like when she was being 'the Grey Warden,' which conveyed strength, wisdom, and determination, no this was completely different. I certainly recognized it as the stance Isolde took when she was introduced to the little bastard running around Redcliffe that the arl doted on. It said very clearly, 'You are so far beneath me that the dirt over your head blocks even the soles of my shoes from my view, you grubby little worm, and you've less than no right to even address me, let alone question me.' "I have told you my reasons," she snapped, her voice like whip of ice, lashing into Morrigan hard enough that the brunette fell back a step, and even Sten looked surprised, "If you do not agree with them, then keep it to yourself! I will not change my mind simply because you wish me to, and I grow tired of your incessant wheesht!"

I admit, I had no idea what 'wheesht' was, but I'm pretty sure I was tired of it too, if for no other reason than it was something Morrigan was doing. Speaking of the shocked witch, she looked... almost comical, and if the situation were any different, I would have laughed at the dumbstruck look on her face. I didn't though, and her surprise only lasted for a moment before she scowled, "As you wish," she hissed and stalked away. Oooh, there were going to have to be a lot of gifts poured into her to get back on her good side, surely. My attention, however returned to our fearless leader as she turned her gaze to Sten and Zevran long enough to cow them out of any potential comments. When she turned the look on the rest of us in the camp, my brows hit my hairline. Her eyes all but glowed with fury, looking scarily like the lava that ran through her homeland. This face was new to me... it wasn't the Grey Warden, and it certainly wasn't Liftrasa... Hello Lady Aeducan, it's my deepest displeasure to meet you.

Her gaze met mine. I don't know what she found there, like I said I have an expressive face most of the time and she's blamed good at seeing through any fronts I try to put up, but whatever she saw, her expression shifted immediately to contrite, and ashamed. "Morrigan, wait!" she called out and quickly jogged after the mage, her shorter legs making it more difficult to catch up to the quickly retreating figure.

I was about to return to my meal, mulling over what I'd seen, when Zevran sidled up to me. Maker's breath, but I hated that sneaky bastard. "Alistair, might I have a moment?" I hated his accent too.

"Do I have a choice?" I grumbled, doing my best to eat despite the loss of appetite his presence caused.

"Oh you always have a choice my friend," he replied with a laugh, "except when you don't." He sat down beside me, too close for my comfort, but then I don't think assassins care very much for the concept of 'personal space'. "I wanted to discuss our beautiful leader."

Of course he did. "What about her?"

He gave me a surprised look, "Surely after that, even you have noticed something is wrong, yes?"

Why did everyone insist that I was an idiot? "Yes, even I noticed she's upset," I snapped, "I have eyes, you know."

He held his hands up in what was likely supposed to be a placating gesture, "Yes, yes, of course, forgive me," he said without a hint of contrition, "I merely meant that she is very upset..."

"And what do you want me to do about it?" I demanded, surely at being left behind and at having to talk to him at all.

He blinked in surprise before his brows drew together, his head tilting slightly as he frowned, "I thought that you two were..." his expression suddenly cleared, and turned irritatingly cheerful, "But if you aren't then..." he started to get to his feet.

My hand shot out and I grabbed his arm, preventing him from getting up, "I meant," I clarified quickly, "that I'm as at a loss about what to do as everyone else is," I glared at him, "and yes we are," I half-growled.

He laughed... I hated his laugh... and smiled, "Peace, peace my friend," I hated it when he called me his friend, "I only sought to lighten the mood with a bit of humor, yes? It's a tactic you use quite often yourself, no?" I hated the way he talked too. Come to think of it, I hated everything about him, really.

"That," I said as I released his arm, "wasn't funny," I picked up my spoon again, "Yes, I know that she's upset, and I know what she's upset about, but I'm never going to think of what to say to her if people keep coming up and bothering me about the bloody damn obvious." I took a bite of my porridge.

"The rumors say that her brother killed their father directly."

I nearly choked. Well that explained a lot, didn't it? And we were forcing her to wade through all that in order to garner allies from the very people that cast her out, and refused to acknowledge her existence. Wonderful. Maker's breath, couldn't she get a break?

Once I could finally breathe again, I looked over at Zevran... who was trying to look concerned while also trying not to laugh, and wheezed, "I'll talk to her... just stay at camp, and let me take your place in the party."

"Well that's really her decision, is it not?" he asked, the smirk breaking through.

I glared at him, "Are you worried about her, or not?" I snapped at him, "Because if you are, you'll stop being a vain little tit, and just let me go with her when we break camp!"

He sighed, and rolled his eyes, "Fine, fine," he said, getting to his feet, "I swear, no one appreciates humor around here," he muttered as he walked away... likely to go hit on Leliana.

I finished breakfast quickly, trying madly to think of what to do. I realized that... well we'd never actually asked her about herself, none of us had. It had always been her asking about our pasts, and drawing us into conversations, making us feel important, and like we were the only ones that mattered... and none of us had returned the favor... except maybe Wynne, but I didn't know, since I didn't eavesdrop... or at least I tried not to, anyway. I set my bowl aside and looked around, unsurprised to see Liftrasa talking to Bodahn. Granted, it could just be that she was just selling off some of the stuff she had picked up around Orzammar, but I'd put money on the fact that she was buying bribe material for Morrigan.

What the hell was I supposed to do?

Author's note: I'm not trying to make the Warden seem psycho or bitchy or anything, it's just that she's had to evolve super fast to the situation after coming from a completely alien environment, and then she's been dropped right back into the environment, and that's bound to have an effect on someone... and given the way dwarven society works, it would sure as hell be a negative effect.