He is good at gestures. At loving. Better yet when he does not have a kingdom to run, and the sort of plans that involve a good deal of waiting over moving around, fighting for every inch. They will be back in Kirkwall soon enough, and three out of seven nights hers once more—but they will be as husband and wife, no fear of still playing that game where they both see how much they can get away with.

“It pleases me to please you,” he says, and perhaps it does not sound so foolishly sentimental coming from him, even in the body of a man with the sort of face that suggests pride and confidence over sincerity in romantic matters.

(The dimple, mostly.)

He contemplates spurring the horse to a gallop, making this all into a merry chase, and puts the idea to bed. The saddle has him concerned.

(Several millennia, and he cannot muster patience for this.)

Sentimentality: "I did not know, when I first saw you..."