Twelve-
Final Fantasy Tactics, Ovelia/Alma/Teta
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"Alma?" her roommate whispered.

Alma shivered and pulled the blankets down, exposing her cold nose to the air. "What is it?"

"Can I come over there?" Teta asked. Alma could hear her bedclothes rustling in anticipation of the answer. "I'm so cold..."

"Yes, but hurry, before Matron hears you," Alma whispered back. "And bring your blankets!"

"Yes!" Teta leaped out of her bed and scurried across to Alma's, shrieking a little at how cold the floor was against her bare feet, her blankets billowing out behind her like a ghost's shroud. At the last possible second Alma flipped her own blankets back. Almost before the frigid air hit Teta leaped into her narrow bed and flung the covers over them both; after some frantic and inventive scrambling the two girls inhabited a cocoon of blankets at the center of Alma's narrow bed, clinging to each other for warmth and trying to stifle their giggling.

"Your feet are like ice," Teta hissed, kicking lightly at Alma's leg.

"Maybe you wouldn't be so cold if you weren't so skinny," Alma retorted. Teta snorted out a most unladylike laugh and quickly hid her face against Alma's shoulder before anyone could hear.

Teta's head popped back up a moment later. "Pull up the blankets," she whispered, and then did so herself, pulling the blankets up over their heads to hide their faces from the cold.

Alma shut her eyes, enjoying Teta's warm breath on her frozen cheeks. "Now go to sleep," she said.

"At once, milady," Teta said. "Forgive me for not curtsying--"

"Oh, be quiet!"

They both desperately stifled their giggles again and then settled down for real. Alma shut her eyes and buried her face against Teta's shoulder, despite Teta's little hiss of dismay; Teta's skin was warm enough to make her own skin sting as it warmed back up, and Alma couldn't resist sighing with the pleasure of it.

They were both nearly asleep when the furtive knock came at their door. Alma gasped and jerked the covers down, yelping again at the renewed cold.

The door slid open a few inches. "Alma?" someone whispered, her voice almost sick with uncertainty.

Alma sat up a little further, and Teta pushed herself up on one elbow, her mouth in a little round 'o' of amazement. "... Highness?" Alma ventured.

"May I... may I come in?" Ovelia asked, scurrying into the room without waiting for an answer. She had a lovely thick robe belted about her, Alma noticed with some minor envy, and slippers, and--luxury!--a candle that she was furtively shielding with one hand. Alma and Teta had already used up their miserly allowance of candles for the month. "I, I'm sorry to bother you, only... it's so cold..."

"It is, isn't it," Alma said. "Of course you may come in--scoot over, Teta, and make room."

"Oh!" Ovelia's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, I didn't realize..."

"Nonsense, it's all right," Alma said. "We're all cold here, aren't we? Now blow out that candle and don't waste it any more!"

Ovelia nodded once, jerkily, and then blew out her candle and came scurrying over. Fitting a third person under the covers was much more difficult than getting a second in, and they were all yelping from momentary exposure to the cold by the end of it, but oh, it was worth it in the end: under her robe Ovelia was almost impossibly warm and still smelled slightly of woodsmoke and clean soap. Both girls promptly forgot her royal status and clung to her, which made her gasp out a little sound and then dissolve into nervous giggles.

"You're so warm," Alma said reverently. "If you are always this warm then you are welcome any time!"

"I, I'll keep that in mind," Ovelia said, her hands clasped demurely on her bosom to keep them out of the way. She still sounded nervous, but not quite as much. "I'm so sorry to have bothered you--"

"It's no bother at all," Alma said firmly. "Is it, Teta?"

"Not a bit of it," Teta declared, brazenly nuzzling her face against Ovelia's neck. Alma promptly reached over and poked her for taking the liberty, then changed her mind, deciding that it looked like a lovely (and warm) idea and following suit. Ovelia sucked in a shaking breath and grabbed for Alma's arm, clutching at it with all her might.

Alma patted her shoulder. "It's all right," she whispered. "Try and sleep now."

"A-all right," Ovelia said, and whether or not she actually fell asleep, she fell silent, laying at the bottom of the pile of girls and radiating her gentle, royal heat all night long.