Very sorry for the long update gap - life did that getting-in-the-way thing again... Anyway, here's a gleaming, brand new chapter by way of apology.
Harm
Alistair
For a moment, he can only stare at her, feeling surprised and more than a little stupid. "I... what?"
"The smite. Why?"
He opens his mouth a moment, wishing his brain would do that thinking thing like it's meant to, closes it again, then finally manages to say something. "Their magic. I... evened the odds?" he tries hopefully.
"You seemed to forget that you had two mages in your group," she says, her voice still quiet, her eyes still directed anywhere but at him.
He shakes his head. "The lyrium, remember?"
She finally meets his eye. "I do. Thank you for that." She seems to be concentrating on a nearby shrub. "But... well, if Morrigan had had her way, you'd be on fire as we speak."
He raises an eyebrow, unable to resist. "I doubt I'd be speaking, Morgana." He ignores her glare, adding, in more sombre tones, "You know I'd never - " He doesn't know what he was about to say, and trails off awkwardly.
"Never what?" There is more curiosity than sharpness in her tone, and he dares to look her in the eye.
"Harm you," he says, simply, voicing what he's been thinking since it happened. He sees Zevran and Leliana smirking (it amazes him that the woman can even smirk prettily) and tries to ignore them; he's not even sure why he's embarrassed - it seemed like a perfectly straightforward thing to say in his head, but now it hangs in the air like a cloud between them. Her surprised silence doesn't help. "You're a friend. Why would I?" He tries to manoeuvre the canvas of his tent into their shared inventory, failing miserably. Anything for an excuse not to see her face.
"But..." She's frowning, still trying to argue. Isn't she?
"Smites can be resisted," he interrupts, before he loses his nerve, "even if they can't be stopped. I'd hoped..."
"Like the sword?" Her voice is small again, and she is gazing up at him in shock. "Why would you - ? But you're a templar..."
"Me?" He shakes his head with a hint of a smile. "I don't think so. I can't glare nearly well enough."
Her expression is of bafflement, then exasperation, before settling into something that could be relief or sadness, he's really not sure which - maybe both. "Thank you, Alistair."
No laugh, no smile, just three simple words, but he swears something frees itself behind her eyes. He gives her a smile that he hopes is reassuring, then, as she makes her way to Morrigan, resumes trying in vain to stuff his tent into one of the packs.
In-game justification: There is something in canon about smite resistance and the way one reacts to it - it depends on willpower, which can be increased. This isn't going to be written as a quick fix, don't worry.