Warmth.
The warmth of the morning sunlight on her bedsheets.
The warmth of the person beside her, still deep in slumber.
The warmth of contentment that radiated inside of her, an overwhelming sense of peace.
She awoke to the all-encompassing sensation of warmth, and realized in that hazy moment that she was perfectly content. The Blight was defeated, Ferelden had been saved, and here she was, Warden-Commander of the kingdom and also its first Dalish arl.
Running a hand through her hair, she sat up and gazed out the window by her bed. It was a picturesque, almost dreamlike sight, the arling of Amaranthine in spring. Past the rooftops of the Keep, she could see the wide expanse of forest that surrounded the fortress, some trees richly verdant, others swathed in light yellow or pink blossoms. The world was aglow in sunlight.
From where she sat, she could hear faint snippets of birdsong, interrupted by the occasional clatter of the residents of Vigil's Keep coming to life in the morning. A voice out calling here and there, a hammer beating out a few test blows on an anvil, the clatter of armor and steel upon steel as the recruits went through their drills in the yard. These were not the sounds of her childhood, of the days she had spent roaming in the sail-wagons of her people, but she had grown to love them nonetheless.
Alistair shifted slightly beside her, drawing her attention back into their small but comfortable room. He was still fast asleep, and she leaned in close to admire his tawny hair, his peaceful expression, and his chiselled figure that the sheets could not hide. The sound of his slow, steady breathing was one she treasured more than all others combined.
She let him slumber for a few moments longer before placing a hand on his shoulder and giving him a light shake.
"It's past dawn, Alistair. We should rise."
"Mmph," was his sole muffled response.
"The recruits will be awaiting us, emma lath."
He opened his eyes blearily before immediately shutting them tight again.
"Is a darkspawn horde invading?" he murmured.
She frowned slightly, trying to gauge whether or not this was an attempt at a joke. It was difficult for her to tell, sometimes, even with as much practice as she had received in the past couple of years. Her people were not ones for casual humour.
"I have heard of no such invasion," she finally decided to reply.
"Did Loghain return from the grave and instigate another civil war?"
"No." She was fairly sure he was joking, now.
"Then... surely the recruits can wait another half hour, my dear." And then he rolled over and buried his head in his pillows. At that, she laughed.
"Rise, Alistair." She placed both hands on his shoulders now, giving him a stronger shake. "You can't slumber forever."
"Can't I?" came the muffled reply. "Please?"
"You are the sleepiest shemlen I've ever met," she declared.
When he failed to answer with any form of retort, she placed an arm around him and snuck in close, nipping at his earlobe. His response was a comfortable sigh, but she could see that his eyes were still tightly shut. Clearly, it was time to take a different approach.
Letting her hands wander under the sheets and down his body, she was satisfied by his sharp intake of breath and a murmured, indistinguishable curse. He was hard, having just been woken, and she was not about to let that change.
After only a few strategic caresses, Alistair let out a groan, and she was finally rewarded with him shifting, pushing her back as though she weighed nothing at all, and sleepily rolling on top of her. She kissed him and he responded to her mouth with his own, again and then again, growing steadily more insistent with each pause. Firm hands sought out her body, and held her close.
When he positioned himself against her, however, she noted with amusement that his eyes were still half-shut.
"You're not quite awake yet, are you?"
Alistair paused, raised an eyebrow, and was finally alert enough to grin at her.
"You wound me, my dear."
Slowly, slowly, he thrust into her. With her whispered encouragement he buried his head at her shoulder, and let her wrap her legs around him, pulling him close. He sped up at her insistence, thrust after heated thrust until the bed creaked from their lovemaking, until she could not restrain her voice, until he spent himself inside her, hands joined tightly with hers.
Afterwards, as they lay back recovering their breaths, she was struck with a sudden, inexplicable sense of despair. Seeing this, her lover's expression changed into instant wakefulness and concern.
"What is it? Did I hurt you?" He cupped a hand on her cheek, and worried eyes examined her own.
She shook her head. The sudden, inexplicable feeling was already beginning to fade.
"I'm fine," she murmured, unsure as to how she could possibly explain what had just happened. Only one thought rang in her mind now, and she spoke it plainly without understanding its connection. "I'm happy to be with you."
"You make me happy too," he answered, kissing her gently on the temple before finally sitting up, stretching. After swinging his legs around and placing them on the stone floor, Alistair offered her his hand. "Come, let's go have breakfast. And I believe you said something about there being recruits to train?"