When I Look at You (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

Feast

The innkeeper offered them free rooms for the night. Una called first dibs on the bathtub in the room she and Leliana would be sharing. After a soak in a hot tub, she felt remarkably refreshed. She put on a simple wool dress, left the tub refilled with clean water for Leliana, and went downstairs to the main room of the inn to hunt for some dinner.

The long table was filled with people feasting, celebrating the defeat of the walking corpses. Alistair had done everything he could to hold open a space next to him, hoping Una would feel up to coming downstairs. The scene in the castle still haunted him, seeing her crouch with her hands over her ears, in such obvious distress. He'd never seen her give way like that before. The strength of the urge he felt to take her in his arms and hold her until she felt better had been ... unexpected. One more moment and he would have done so, sticky bloody armor and all.

Suddenly he saw her on the stairs, and his mouth fell open. He'd never seen her in a dress before, and, come to think of it, had never seen her after a proper bath. She looked ... beautiful. And tall. And surprisingly shy and ill at ease.

He called her name, waving his mug in the air. At the sight of him, her generous mouth curved in that transforming smile, and a bolt of lightning shot through him, taking him completely by surprise.

Una felt it, too. She'd never seen him in real clothes—just undergear, which tended to be sweaty by the end of the day and not in great condition to begin with. The white shirt he wore now set off his tanned skin. He had taken his usual pains with his hair and his shave, and as she got closer she could smell some kind of spicy scent. Cologne, too? She was torn between simply fainting at the sensual overload and a certain amount of bitterness that he cleaned up better than she did. Every woman in the room seemed better put together than she was. She should have asked Leliana to help her get ready, she thought. Una took the spot next to Alistair and accepted the mug of ale he handed her with a murmur of thanks.

Alistair would have been surprised if he'd known she was feeling inadequate. He thought she looked lovely in the simple dress, not overdone like so many of the other women, and the faint scent of lavender that hung around her, probably from the soap, was enticing, making him want to lean in closer to smell more of it. As she sat down and her thigh brushed his, he felt an immediate physical response that stunned him.

They didn't speak for the rest of the meal. Everything Una wanted to say was ... untimely at best. And Alistair was lost in a world of unfamiliar sensation, overwhelmed by the sight and the smell and the feel of her next to him. What few thoughts he had were confused jumbles, his feelings and his background sparring each other, until all his thoughts were distilled down to the single question: was it really all right to be thinking of her this way?

The tension was dispelled somewhat when Leliana came down, looking fresh and lovely. She squeezed innocently between the two of them and kept up a lively chatter that both Una and Alistair were grateful for.

As everyone at the table finished their meal, the gathering grew more boisterous. A few villagers brought out musical instruments, and shortly thereafter the floor was cleared and folks began dancing. Leliana grabbed Alistair's hand and pulled him out onto the dance floor.

Una had flushed bright red as soon as she'd seen what was coming. Dancing was her least favorite thing. She couldn't do it. She had no rhythm, stumbled all over her own feet and those of her partner, and generally made a complete fool out of herself. Years' worth of relentless training had not helped the situation at all. She contemplated just ducking out. And then she caught sight of Alistair and Leliana. Leliana, of course, danced beautifully. Una found herself intrigued to hear more about Leliana's past, wondering exactly where she had come by all her skills. But the real surprise was Alistair. Una would have expected, given his general lack of experience with women—something that was all too obvious—that he would be an awkward dancer. Instead, he was remarkably natural, and moved with a grace that was almost elven. Una's misery was increased tenfold when she saw what her lack of skill on the dance floor was costing her. But she couldn't quite tear her eyes away, either.