Disclaimer: I wish I own the characters, but I don't. Bioware does.
He found her sitting in the corner of the chantry, her arms pulling her knees to her chest and her eyes fixed at the Maker's altar. He could not read what she was thinking, but then again, no one could—not even Leliana who was supposedly visionary.
Alistair hesitated before he made his way towards her and sat beside her as quietly as his armor allowed him to. Amaia did not look at him even when she flinched at the sound of iron clanking its way towards her. She remained as still as a statue as Alistair dug through his mind for any witty one-liner he had been proud of.
"Have you tried the cheese here?" he said and mentally slapped himself when silence answered him. Still he continued. He knew, eventually, he would make sense—or at least the mage would find some sense in what he was trying to say. "It's better than that in Lothering. I'm not sure about the cheese in the Circle though..."
Amaia blinked and slowly looked away from the altar. She did not look at him but stared silently at the floor before heaving a soft sigh that Alistair almost missed it. She continued to stare at the floor as Alistair thought of something different to say.
"You know," he began tentatively. "Bevin—the kid in the closet?—I saw him outside practising with a wooden stick. He said he'll be ready for the next attack—"
And that was when Alistair knew he should've just shut up. Amaia's brows creased with every word and, when Alistair stopped, she was already biting her lower lip so hard that blood trickled down to her chin. It was the first time Alistair had seen Amaia with such emotions ever since they met on Ostagar. The mage had been rather careful from showing any genuine feelings that Alistair had been sure she was a Tranquil and a very good actress.
"Uh... Amaia?" Alistair shifted so that he was sitting across his fellow Warden. He reached out his hand tentatively before putting it on her shoulder. Despite the warmth brought by the numerous candles in the Chantry, Alistair could feel the coldness of the mage's skin even through the robes. Again, Alistair ransacked his brain for anything to say and, suddenly remembering that night they had just reached Lothering, he said, "D-do you want to talk about it?"
Amaia looked at him suddenly that Alistair thought she was going to cast a spell. For a moment, the mage managed to look surprised, angry, and worried at the same time before she looked away from the templar and quickly wiped the blood away from her face. She shrugged Alistair's hand from her shoulder, not unkindly, and stood up, brushing the dust from her robes as she did so.
"I'm fine, Alistair," she said, not looking at him. "I was just... thinking."
"Oh," Alistair said as he stood up, his armor making loud clanking noises that he doubted Amaia even heard what he had said. He wasn't sure if he should ask what she was thinking about, he doubted she would even tell him, so he kept quiet. He had a clear idea what it was about anyway: the mage's clenched fist when Bann Teagan honored Murdock and the other villagers who had died on the attack the previous night was a good enough hint.
When Amaia turned back to him, she was back to her composed self. She smiled curtly at him before saying, "Let's go; Bann Teagan is waiting for us." Without waiting for Alistair to answer, the mage turned and walked towards the Chantry's doors.
In the far future, when everything is somewhat peaceful and all Alistair is sitting in a throne, listening to things less interesting than a nug, he will remember that particular moment when Amaia is walking away from him. He will remember how her hair moved with the breeze as she opens the Chantry's doors and how her back seems so confident yet so vulnerable. And he will think that it is probably during that particular moment, that moment when she turns and calls his name with an almost emotionless voice that echoes in the Chantry, that he has fallen in love with her.
Alistair did not know that, of course. All he was thinking, as he walked towards her and their mission, was how he wanted to see all of the mage's expressions—her smiles, her tears, her anger—and how he somewhat wanted to keep all of those to himself.
Author's Babble: Been a while since my last fanfic. I had my laptop reformatted and I kind of lost the DA:O installer so my motivation to write was gone for a while. But here I am again! I also just installed DA:O Awakening!! *excited* I'm killing myself because I erased my previous saved games so now I'm playing Amaia FROM THE START!! But, we know what they say about patience. Oh, btw, I wrote this fic because, on my current gameplay, Murdock died in the undead raid. It got me depressed so... a fanfiction was born. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it. :D