She had never been big on touching.
Well, that wasn't completely true. She didn't mind pats on the shoulder or the occasional ruffling of her hair that so many people seemed to enjoy, but she had never understood the appeal of holding hands, or prolonged hugs, or leaning into someone while sitting by a fire.
People were hot and itchy things that took up space when she would rather stretch out, and hand holds lead to sweaty palms and the inability to move off on your own.
It's not that she begrudged others their constant need for contact, but she was happy enough to let them seek it out far away from her.
She should have known that her thoughts on the matter would have to change when she willingly entered a relationship with someone.
He loved touching.
There were the usual small things, a finger hooking over one of her own as they went over reports, an arm bumping hers as they stood by the war table, or feet touching when they sat at a table for dinner, but he would also toy with her hair when he stood behind her in his office while she looked at the guard rotations, and slip his hand around hers if she joined him on a patrol of the battlements, and he always, always pulled her into an embrace, his cheek resting against her head for several minutes anytime she returned from a mission out in the field.
It was like he needed the contact, the pressure of her against him. She thought once, when he had kissed her breathless then simply stood with her wrapped in his arms, that it was like he had been bereft of contact his whole life and was trying to make up for it with her.
It wouldn't be surprising.
She knew that his life had not been easy, knew that he had kept a tight reign on his emotions since his time at the Fereldan Circle. He was the type to hold himself to a higher standard, the type to have to be in control, and she couldn't blame him after what chaos had put him through.
Their moments together were probably the only time he felt he didn't need to be on top of the situation.
So she never stepped away from their embraces first, never told him he was too hot when he pulled her to him during the night, and never stopped encouraging him to sit with her in the quiet down times when she could lean into his chest and coax him into relaxing.
If it made him happy she could handle it, and if it helped him stay strong through the worst moments she would happily keep physical contact for as long as he wanted.
And while she told herself that it was all for him, she could admit, at least to herself, that it didn't bother her as much as she thought it might.