Birthright
Well, that went as well as could be expected, Alistair thought. She wasn't angry. Or upset. Or, well, anything, really. She had been smiling at him, joking about him being the bearer of bad news, and then he had told her, and she'd gone quiet. Her expression had changed – but so subtly – from a genuine smile to a smiling mask. The warmth in her violet eyes had been replaced by a mechanical crinkling around them, and while her lips stayed stretched wide, they tightened. If he hadn't been watching her so intently, he wondered if he even would have noticed the signs. She had made a joke about him being a royal bastard, and he had pretended to laugh at it. It was terrifying, being completely shut out like that. He'd seen her do this before – to Morrigan, to Leliana when they met her in the tavern, to the templar in the Lothering chantry – but she'd never turned it on him. Or had she? He thought back. Maker's mercy, had she been lying to him all this time?
She said it didn't matter, that she understood why he hadn't told her, but it didn't sound right. He had no idea what she was thinking. And when he apologized, she just dismissed it like it was nothing. But it wasn't nothing, and he knew it. How could he trust her if she wouldn't…Maker help him, but he'd screwed it up again.