Anyone who remembers Chemical Bond - chapter 19 - here's some continuity for you. This taint-sense thing seems to be pretty established fanon, so you've probably come across it anyway, but who knows...
Bridges
Alistair
He's so tired.
He's been tired for days, but hadn't really noticed it - the smite took it out of him, though, and he's been exhausted since, has been trudging his way to camp asleep on his feet.
Leliana seemed to give up on "keeping an eye on him" a while ago; he can't say she was doing a brilliant job anyway - surely guards aren't meant to be so smiley? After the brief spell of holding one dagger perilously close to him - did she forget that those things are sharp? - she'd seemed to relax, sheathed it as he sheathed his sword and strapped back his shield. Then came the sighing and head-shaking, and, "Oh, Alistair." He barely registered the conversation she tried to make, eyes firmly on their noble leader. Who was busy very carefully ignoring him, even when all of them except Morrigan (who, of course, had to make some nasty little comment) were gaping at the Urn. At some point, he let out a sigh of his own, and he returned his eyes to the ground, staying that way until they reached camp.
This is the kind of tired he hates, where every cell in your body is begging you to sleep, but your mind refuses to. It's why he's still here, still pretending to look at the fire and not sneak glances at her. He sees Leliana speak to her, sees her look in his direction, and suddenly has to know what she's feeling.
He's learned to block out most of the shared taint - something all Wardens are taught, as a matter of privacy as much as sanity - but now he shuts his eyes a little, letting the alien emotions in and cautiously opening one eye.
Anger, resentment, as expected, and... overwhelming sadness. A little unexpected, he has to admit, since from the way she acted, he'd thought she'd be in some sort of death-to-all-templars rage.
He tries to shut out the taint sense again quickly, before the hollowness infects him, but it's a little late now.
This is ridiculous - they had no chance against magic, even Morgana and Morrigan were having trouble using their own. There was no other way, and he'd kept the lyrium with them for a reason... He'd never try to hurt her; he knows that even if she doesn't, but why doesn't she? He shakes his head, trying to block out the image of her half-conscious on the ground and the totally unfair guilt it brings with it.
She dreams of templars.
She talks in her sleep when she's having the nightmares. It was the archdemon, but now it's templars, and he pretends not to feel sick to his stomach.
This night just gets better and better.
The next morning, as he's packing up his tent, there's a sound of wool against wool, and he's surprised to find her standing next to him. She hasn't put her armour on yet, he notices, and something about that makes her seem more... human, familiar, somehow. She refuses to look at him, her expression too many different things at once to read properly, and the word is so quiet he nearly doesn't hear it. "Why?"