I was a selfish bastard. No, I hadn't just figured it out, but as I sat in the blessedly hot bath water, scrubbing away the grime from the road, the thought occurred to me... again. I was a selfish bastard, and a coward to boot. I hadn't opened my mouth the entire way here. I mean, how do you even bring that up? 'Hey, I know you're upset, but it's totally not your fault, so pretty please get over it, you're upsetting everyone'?Somehow I doubted that would be the right way to phrase it.

Thank the Maker for small favors though, the Tower of Magi had agreed to put us up for the night, hence the sinfully wonderful bath. Since there were so few mages left, there were enough bathing rooms available that we could bathe in private... so long as no one minding waiting their turn. Zevran was the only one that seemed to dislike the idea of privacy, and had invited Morrigan and Leliana to join him... and who could blame me for snickering when they turned him down... and harshly at that? I looked forward to the day when Morrigan turned him into a slug... or something equally as bad.

In any event, I was scrubbing absently at an arm as I let my mind wander. The more distance we had put between ourselves and Orzammar, the more normality had returned. Liftrasa and Morrigan had made up... though why Liftrasa bothered was beyond me. At least I had caught her smiling slightly a few times when Morrigan had teased Sten... and here I'd never thought I would feel bad for the qunari. Still, I knew that visiting her home, and being submerged in dwarven politics was bothering Liftrasa, and like Wynne said, she was just running from it. I groaned and rubbed my face with my free hand, dropping the washrag onto the edge of the tub. What the hell was I going to do? Why couldn't Wynne talk to her? She was all... wise and elderly... and knew how to talk to people... I was just a big dumb sword-swinger, according popular opinion.

I groaned again at the sound of the door opening behind me, "I swear by the Maker, if that's you Zevran, I will cut off your ears and feed them to you," I threatened tiredly. A feminine chuckle greeted my words, and I instantly blushed from head to toe, and tried to sink down in the water. Greeeeeeaaaaat, so the Circle was messing with me by sending female apprentices to deliver towels? I hated bloody mages...

"Does Zevran... often try to slip into your baths?" I relaxed slightly at the sound of Liftrasa's voice, and it certainly was nice to hear the teasing lilt that meant that I wasn't speaking to the Grey Warden or the newly re-emerged Lady Aeducan.

"Once is more than often enough," I said, forcing myself to sit up a bit, since it was... kind of stupid to be shy when she had already seen everything I had to offer, as it were. "So... what brings you to this neck of the mage-infested woods?" I asked, trying my hardest to be casual and humorous as I picked up the washcloth once more.

"Oh, you know, I thought I'd peek in and make sure no darkspawn had appeared to interrupt your bath," she replied casually, and I could hear the smile in her voice, "and to make sure that none of the big bad mages had swooped in and turned you into a toad."

I groaned playfully, "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?" I asked, "To be fair though, swooping is bad, and considering we have a shape-shifter traveling with us, it's not unreasonable to assume she could do it to someone else." I blinked in surprise when the washrag was plucked out of my hand. I started to turn, when a hand on my back stopped me, and she gave me a gentle push. I obligingly leaned forward, doing my best to remain as casual as possible. I had thought that after we... you know... it would stop being so bloody awkward, but any time we weren't in a situation where we had to be all business, and she was the least affectionate, I turned into the world's biggest blushing school boy.

"You humans are so poorly made," she commented off-handedly as she started scrubbing my back.

"Um... sorry?" it was both an apology, and a request for an explanation.

"Look at how big you are," she said as she continued scrubbing, "you're far taller than you've any need to be, your legs are much longer, and your shoulders are much broader... and yet your arms just could not scale up too! I mean, how do you people scrub your own backs, when you can't even reach all of it?"

"Yes well, not all races can have the dwarves' creepy long arms," I replied, teasing her as she was teasing me, "As for how we scrub our backs on our own," I shrugged, "we tie a rag to a stick."

Her hand stopped... and it stopped somewhere on my lower back that was a bit too... south to be back, but too far north to be anything else. I tried not to squirm while attempting to figure out if this was supposed to be naughty or not. "A rag on a stick?" the confusion was clear in her voice, "You're teasing me again, aren't you?"

That... was a rather odd thing to accuse me of joking about, "No, actually," I said, her confusion confusing me in turn, "A long-handled scrub brush does the job too," I offered, hoping that would clear things up. It was so odd sometimes, the things that seemed to give her pause. She took vengeful ghosts, corrupted wildlife, and even bloody dragons in stride, but rain, trees, rabbits, and now apparently improvised back-scrubbers, seemed to initially flummox her.

She sighed, and to my relief, started scrubbing again, "Like I said, poorly made. Though I suppose it's not just humans, but surface races in general."

"Yes," I said cheerfully, "do pity us, oh superior burrowing race, for we cannot even wash our own backs without help. Sometimes I wonder how we even learned to walk upright, and wear clothing." I laughed, wincing exaggeratedly as she lightly flicked my ear.

"My point," she said with mock exasperation, "was that you take forever to bathe, my heart. I mean even Leliana has finished before you, and she has significantly more hair, and more desire to be floral-scented."

I laughed, trying to hide the embarrassed little thrill that went through me every time she used a term of endearment, "Well there's significantly more to me than there is to her," I pointed out, "and furthermore she doesn't walk around swaddled in wool under about sixty pounds of metal," I tilted my head slightly, "I mean if you want I could be more slap-dash about it, but I'd rather not end up smelling like Rurik, if it's all the same."

She laughed, and it was damn good to hear, "Well I didn't want to say anything, but there have been complaints," she teased as she finished her task and set the washrag aside.

"Yes well, so long as you don't let Wynne drag me down to a stream and give me a scrub like you did with the dog, I don't care," I replied flippantly, wondering what was going to happen next... she didn't seem to be leaving after all... She put her hands on my shoulders and began kneading them, her fingers seeking out knots and working them away with gentle, but firm pleasure. My eyelids fluttered, and a moan escaped me. What? Sixty pounds of metal. Fighting in. Give me a break. "You have until the end of time to stop that," I muttered under my breath as I leaned back against the edge of the tub.

"Well I don't think I'll be at it that long," she said with a chuckle, "since we have things to do and all... and if you stay in the bath too long, you'll wrinkle."

I smiled wryly, "Yes, because that's something I stay up nights worrying about. I mean, I'd just be ruined if my fingers and toes wrinkled..." I winced as she flicked my ear again, "Alright, alright, I'll try to stop being a smart ass... but I make no promises." I was saying that an awful lot lately... which reminded me that I was supposed to be talking to her seriously about something... which promptly brought my shoulders up around my ears.

"If you keep tensing, I'll never get the knots out," she chided gently, "I almost had out a nasty one that I'm pretty sure was named Morrigan."

I forced myself to relax, and even chuckled softly, though it sounded a bit forced, "No, that knot lives between my shoulder blades," I said as flippantly as I could, "that way it can duck under a bone to hide so it'll never go away." I knew she was going to ask me what was wrong, but... I just wasn't ready for that conversation, so I asked, "Where did you learn to do this? You're really good."

Her hands slowed their ministrations, "Oh, you know, you pick up things here and there..."

That... wasn't an answer... and usually she was very persuasive and convincing when she withheld information. "So where did you pick it up?"

"Does it matter?"

"Only because you're avoiding the question," I said with a sigh, "I promise I'll stop being stubborn if you do," it sounded like a fair compromise.

She sighed, "I've always been a quick study," she said, and the only reason I knew she wasn't skirting the issue was because of the resignation in her voice, "and... assassins have to know how someone is put together in order to take them apart efficiently..."

I waded through the deep muddy of that statement easier than most people would assume I could, though I admit it was because we only had one assassin in the group. "You learned it from Zevran," I said flatly.

She sighed again, "I learned it from Zevran," she agreed wearily, "Which is also where I learned how to more efficiently kill the people and darkspawn trying to kill us," she pointed out, "Like I said, it's the same general principle."

"I see," I said flatly. It wasn't that... well it was that I didn't like the idea of her learning assassination techniques, that just wasn't all of it. I could ignore the first bit really, since I knew she wasn't about to turn into Princess Stabbity just because she knew the proper knife angle for a heart strike from behind. What really bothered me was that it was Zevran teaching her, and her spending time with him, in close quarters, with him touching her... again...

She groaned and rested her forehead against the top of my head, "Really? This again?"

"What do you mean again?" I protested defensively, scowling as I crossed my arms, "Well I'm so very sorry if I'm not comfortable with the idea of you having tea and stabbings with the man who was sent to kill you."

She sighed and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me from behind, and resting her chin on my shoulder... at which point I noticed that she wasn't wearing any clothes, or at least not many, and almost immolated despite the current situation. One day, one day I swore to myself that I'd be a worldly adult... "Alistair," she murmured, mindful of the fact that she was speaking right beside my ear and not wanting to deafen me, "You asked me before who I wanted, and I chose you. That's never going to change. Yes, I slept with Zevran, once, before I even knew you were interested in me. He and I were never anything, while you and I are, I love you, and that's not going to change either. Come darkspawn, archdemon, or... rabid nug infestation, I'll always love you, and want to be with you and no one else," she turned her head and kissed my cheek, "But that doesn't mean that I'm not going to take advantage of a great opportunity that presents itself to give us the edge over our enemies... within reason, of course."

It was hard to stay mad in the face of that touching little speech... and the humor made it even harder as I did my best not to imagine a rapid nug infestation running through the streets, while noble ladies jumped up on chairs and tables screaming. Still, I'm particularly pig-headed, which I was apparently doing my best to illustrate, "Yeah, well... how would you feel if I'd slept with Morrigan, and then spent time learning massage from her?"

"Confused... and very, very angry," she replied far too mildly.

"See?" I demanded, "Then you understand..."

"Angry at Morrigan for using mind control on you," she interrupted the building tirade, her voice still mild and calm, "because I'm entirely sure that's the only way you'd sleep with her, and confused because Morrigan knows as much about massage as I know about spell craft." She turned her head and nuzzled my cheek, "Really, Alistair, has this been what you've been upset about? What should I do to prove to you that you're the only one I love, and that I really, truly want to be with you for the rest of our lives, however long or short that will be?"

Alright, I was starting to feel like a tit in the face of her gentle reason, and I opened my mouth to apologize, when something she had said struck me, "Wait a minute! What do you mean I've been upset?" I asked, turning to look at her... and instantly regretting it because it made her let me go.

She crossed her arms, making it difficult for me to keep my eyes on her face, while a blush creeped up my neck. One day... one day... Luckily she was at least wearing her underthings, so thank the Maker for small favors. How the hell could anyone argue with a naked person? "I'm not blind, Alistair," she said, "You've been brooding, and the whole trip here you looked like there was something on your mind. I figured since we were alone now, without anyone to overhear it would be a good time to bring it up."

I frowned, "So you think I'm the one that's upset? About Zevran?"

"That is what I said, and what all current evidence is pointing to, yes," she replied, and were it not for the slightest hint of sarcasm in her voice, I would have feared I was speaking to the Grey Warden.

"I'm not upset about him," I protested, "I'm upset about you!" Her arms dropped to her sides, and she drew back as though struck, her brows drawing together. I felt like an ass as I watched confusion and hurt swirl about in eyes that could only be described as the greenest blue. Distantly I wondered if the Stone her people worshiped was jealous of being unable to produce gems as beautiful... But that romantic stuff was neither here nor there, and I'd feel too stupid to say it aloud later, so I pushed it out of my mind as I held my hands up in a surrendering gesture, "Wait, wait. That came out wrong. Can I try again? Please?" What? Let's see anyone maintain their pride in the face of the heart-wrenching look she was giving me. I don't think even Shale could, and it was quite literally made of stone! At her nod, I tried again... though I was pretty sure I was going to botch it. "Look..." I shifted so I could sit up, and turn to look at her more fully, "I've been trying to think about how to bring something up with you, but I'm not particularly good at talking about delicate subjects, and I've been agonizing about how to mention it without hurting you, or making you withdraw from me." Oh yes, from the now slightly fearful look in her eyes, I could tell I was botching it right and proper. Right, time to be blunt. "I'm worried about you, Liftrasa. Going back to Orzammar, facing your younger brother, and his treachery, dealing your father's death, and the rumors surrounding it, none of that can be easy, and the way you broke down on the road on the way there.." I lifted my hands, imploring her to understand what I was trying to say, "and then you just... blocked it all off, and you haven't said anything about it since, but it's clearly still bothering you, I mean, look at the way you blew up at Morrigan! You never yell at any of us, even when we really deserve it!"

"I've never been much of a yeller," she said coolly, and my heart sank as I realized I wasn't dealing with Liftrasa anymore, "Would you prefer if I started?" and that was too bitchy for the Grey Warden. Hello Lady Aeducan, I kind of hate you.

I sighed and rubbed my face, "Andraste's ass, I'm no good at this," I said, trying to play the sympathy card, "I'm not questioning you at all... I'm just... I don't know! I'm offering a shoulder to cry on, and ears to listen if you want to talk... like you've done for me with what happened at Ostagar."

Her face softened slightly, and she looked away, which was not something a stuck up noble would do, which meant that I was getting through to her. Yea! "It won't change what happened," she said quietly.

"No, it won't, nothing will... but like you pointed out to me, talking about it will at least help you make peace with it... or at least start on the path to making peace with it, and moving on with your life."

"I don't want to talk about it," she insisted, and I took the petulance as a good sign, since the Grey Warden was too mature for that, and the princess was too stuck up.

"Why not?"

She reached up with a hand and rubbed her face wearily, "Because it hurts to think about," she whispered, "it hurts to face it, and I'm a coward and a wimp," she shot me what was likely supposed to be a glare, but fell drastically short because of the pain on her face, and the tears in her eyes, "Happy now?"

"No," I said, standing and grabbing a towel to wrap around my waist before getting out of the tub, "because you're wrong. You're perhaps the least cowardly and wimpy person I know," I walked over and drew her into my arms as I had on the road in the mountains, "No one wants to be in pain, and there's no shame in trying to avoid it when you can, but sometimes treating the injury hurts," I didn't know where all this eloquence was coming from, but I inwardly prayed it wouldn't desert me, because I really needed all the help I could get. I lifted her chin gently, and offered her a wry half-smile, "And if you're a coward, then I shudder to think what the rest of us are," I gently brushed some stray hair from where it had fallen into her eyes, and distantly wished she left it down more often. It was as soft as Orlesian silk, and as lustrous as the rubies that shared its color... and that train of thought was another one I never planned on sharing aloud. I brought my mind back to the task at hand, "Duncan always told me that 'bravery' isn't the lack of fear, it's being scared out of your mind, but keeping your wits about you and doing what you have to do precisely because you have to," my brows drew together I stroked her hair, "and I miss him, and it hurts to think about him, and about what happened to him, but he certainly wouldn't want me to beat myself up about it forever... and I imagine that your father and elder brother feel the same, don't you?"

Tears had started sliding down her cheeks somewhere in the middle of that speech, but she neither wiped them away, nor dropped my gaze, "Trian doesn't blame me," she whispered, "I know that... and the letter Gorim gave me tells me that Father not only didn't blame me, but blamed himself... it just... doesn't make it hurt any less, or make me feel any less like I failed them."

I carefully brushed away her tears, "Because it's never been about anyone but you blaming you," I said gently, "I really do understand, Liftrasa, even if I'm a just big dumb sword-swinger and can't express it properly, I do understand... and even though I can't promise I'll know how to make you feel better or what the right thing to say is, I will always be here for you to talk to when you want to."

She nodded slightly, and finally wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tightly. Hooray! I didn't screw it all up! Maybe the others were right to nominate me to talk to her... maybe. I still think Wynne could have done a better job of it, without making Liftrasa so sad first, but mission accomplished... I guessed. In any event, I held her as she cried, once more losing track of time... which was quiet a feat, considering that I was wet and cold in the slightly drafty damn tower. Eventually she pulled away, and quickly rubbed her face to try to put herself back in some kind of order, "Look at me," she said with a fragile little laugh, "crying on you when you're already wet, and it's so Stone-cursed cold! You're going to catch your death if you don't dry off and get into something warm."

I laughed too as I released her, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off my heart, "It's not as cold as all that," I said as I grabbed another towel, "you're just a lava person."

Her brows drew together and she tilted her head, "A lava person?" she asked as she picked up the robe I hadn't known she had been wearing before washing my back, "How am I a lava person? I'm not made of lava."

"No, but you come from lava," I pointed out with a grin, "It's all over the place in Orzammar, like rivers and lakes here in Ferelden, therefore, you're a lava person."

She laughed, and it wasn't half so fragile as it had been earlier, "But that would be like saying that you're a water person, because there are lakes and rivers in Ferelden," she said, pointing out the one flaw in my clever reasoning as she shrugged back into her robe and tied it, "Furthermore, it's only 'lava' when it breaks the surface. Until then, it's magma."

I rolled my eyes, peeking out at her from under the towel as I dried my hair, "Whatever. Magma, lava, it's only important to you midgets."

"Hey, at least we're well-made midgets," she replied smiling, "that can wash our own backs!"

"So can the dog."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

She laughed, and it was finally back to normal, "Why do I put up with you again?" she teased.

"Because of my quick wit, brilliant mind, and sparkling personality," I replied flippantly as I finished drying off, and put on the robe that had been provided for me.

"Or maybe it's because you're a warm, caring, loving man," she said quietly, "who makes me happier than I've ever been in my life, despite the chaos going on around us," she walked over, and took a hold of the front of my robe, so she could pull me down into a kiss. When she pulled away, she gave me a slightly sad smile, "I think, if the offer is still on the table, I'd like to tell you about my family, once we get settled in for the night."

"Of course," I said quietly, and stole another soft kiss.