Gwyneth smiled to herself when she felt the rush of cold air from Alistair pulling back the covers to join her in her bed. She rolled over and buried her nose in his neck, his body heat chasing the chill of the Wintersmarch night away quickly. "Maker's breath, woman. How can you be so cold?"
"I've been in Gwaren and Amaranthine, Alistair. I only have Hero to keep my feet warm when I'm here." The elderly mabari let out a whuffle of noise from the foot of her bed before jumping off and settling in front of the fireplace. The last dying embers allowed her to see the adoring look on Alistair's face when she drew back. "The Bannorn didn't object too much to both Elissa and I retiring from the First Day celebrations, did they?"
"Only Bann Ceorlic, and I think that's only because he's still sore about me winning the duel against Loghain and taking the throne. Who holds a grudge like that for over five years?" Alistair turned to Gwyn, propping himself up on an arm. "I pointed out that you've been traveling for the past month, in the dead of winter no less, to get back to Denerim in time for First Day. As for Elissa, Bann Alfstanna looked ready to use a serving tray to slap him upside the head for suggesting a woman with six month old twins should be forced to stay when she was obviously tired. She didn't use a tray, but the tongue lashing she gave him was rightly epic."
She nodded and tucked her head up under his chin. Thank the Maker Elissa had always turned a blind eye to her and Alistair, since she was a practical sort. Of course, the fact that she had brought Nathaniel Howe into the Wardens, and Gwyn often brought him to Denerim with her probably had something to do with it. In all likelihood, Nathaniel had been waiting up for Elissa like she had waited up for Alistair. Of course, Elissa had a better excuse for retiring early, and no one expected a Howe to be welcome at a banquet with the Cousland queen.
Gwyn let out a tired sigh. If only the Bannorn would have allowed for her to be Queen. Elissa and Nathaniel could have soothed the hurt that still marred any mention of the surviving Howes by marrying Nathaniel like she'd wanted to. As she got lost in her thoughts, Alistair ruffled his nose in her hair and sighed out, "You always smell so good."
"Even during the Blight?" she poked him in the chest. He laughed, "I choose to believe so. Couldn't smell anything over the Darkspawn gore and impending doom, so you could have smelled like roses the whole time and I never would have known."
"Maker, remember that awful soap Isolde made us bathe with at Redcliffe? I think Sten was the only one of us who wasn't allergic in some way." Gwyn wrinkled her nose, remembering the heavily perfumed Orlesian soap that had left them with an itchy rash and made her sneeze repeatedly.
"Oh, I remember." She pulled out from under his chin, vaguely noticing that a few strands of her Bloodstone-red hair had caught in the little patch of hair he insisted was going to sprout into a full, glorious beard someday. The look on his face was far away and wistful. She brushed at his cheek, "What are you remembering? I don't think it's the rash you're thinking of."
"Maker no! It's… I'm going to preface this by saying I had quite a lot of ale to deal with the nobles after you and Elissa left, alright?" Gwyn nodded at him, and Alistair pulled her closer to his side. "Well, that week we spent in Redcliffe while you were sick and recovering is when I knew I was falling in love with you."
"Andraste save me, you realized that while I was rashy from stinky Orlesian soap, sneezing, and coughing up a storm?" She buried her head in his chest, muffling her voice, "Please, let the earth open and swallow me up now."
"Oh, it was the day after the rash and cough cleared up thanks to Wynne, don't worry Gwyn. Remember when you sneezed and Teagan blessed you?"
"Vaguely?" She was still muffled by her attempt to sink into his torso in embarrassment.
"You thanked him immediately after the sneeze, instead of waiting like you normally do. Your voice was all squeaky. It was what I expected Schmooples to sound like, after we met Schmooples." He smiled into her hair when he heard the despairing noise she made. "Yes, the squeaky-nug voice did it for me. I wondered how the woman I had seen blasting Darkspawn and taking out abominations like she'd never done otherwise could be so… cute."
"This is why I never talk right away if I sneeze in front of the Bannorn. If they thought I was cute on top of being an elf, they'd think they could walk all over me and I'd never be able to get anything done. Especially a grudge-holding prat like Ceorlic." Gwyn pulled her face out of Alistair's chest.
"Oh, I know you'd set them back to the proper way of thinking in minutes, Gwyn. All while smelling of rose, orange, and vanilla." He kissed her gently on the lips between each scent. She had already been flushed with embarrassment, now it deepened at the teasing tone. "I missed you while you were gone, Gwyn."
"I missed you, too. If that storm hadn't forced me to go overland instead of taking a ship from Gwaren, I would have been here weeks ago. Three months is too long without you." Gwyn shivered as his gaze intensified and his pupils dilated.
"Are you too tired to make up for it?" He pulled at the base of her braid gently, forcing her head to tilt back. She smiled, "Never."