Vain hopes

Celia's fingers found the lines around his mouth, tracing them delicately. "Age becomes you, old goat."

Loghain could not help smiling, the smile that was just for her, the smile that had given him those particular lines on his increasingly lined face. "Flatterer," he grunted.

"A man of many words, as always." Her eyes glittered. She was a force to be reckoned with, had been ever since she showed up outside of his tent one morning, berating him for being an awful Teyrn. "Those lines had better stay, old goat."

"As long as you're here," he kissed her, "they will."