He wakes, eyes blinking as he looks about blearily. Nothing has changed in the tent, so he spares a moment to let his amusement wash over him. How easily she can rend him from the Fade will never cease to amaze him.

He hears a stirring from slightly above and beside him, prompting him to sit up, moving to his knees for a higher vantage point. She is not awake yet, but it won't be long. He moves to the front of the tent, opening up the flaps and tying them back. Mother Giselle is standing from the side of a sleeping soldier's bedroll, and he motions to get her attention.

He speaks softly when she nears him, "I believe we have done all we can for her, for the moment. If you would keep an eye on her, we would be most grateful."

She nods, "Of course, I will watch her and let her know what has happened when she wakes. Thank you for any part you played in her recovery."

He smiles and nods, excusing himself as the Mother goes inside, pulling a chair from the side and sitting to keep watch.

He goes to his own tent, snatching his staff before he heads back outside, hearing Fen'da'len's shemlen advisers begin to fuss and argue amongst themselves. She will wake within hours, then. He knows his next steps, thanks to her memories. Guiding the Inquisition to Tarasyl'an Te'las makes sense.

His ancient fortress will provide the fledgling organization plenty of room to grow and prosper, succeeding where Haven failed. He also misses painting on walls of the rotunda. Not having access to a proper canvas for so many years has robbed him of one of his greatest forms of stress relief. He will be happy to be home, when they arrive. This time, however, he has more to look forward to than the rotunda. He fully intends to make use of his old quarters; what will now be hers and his.

"And what has you looking so unnaturally happy now?"

He turns at the sound of Dorian's still groggy voice, looking him over once to see his wrinkled robe and giving a small smirk at his expense before answering, "The future, and what may come of it. It is brighter than it seems, and full of untapped potential."

His words garner him a raised eyebrow and a non-committal hum from the other mage, "Be careful that you don't actually start to fit Varric's nickname for you. He'll never let you live it down."

He rewards Dorian with a chuckle, "Speaking from personal experience, are you?"

Dorian scoffs and waves him off as he passes him on the way to the central campfire, calling over his shoulder, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

A sardonic smirk graces his face as he looks over the camp, the arguing voices of the advisors growing loud and sharp in his lowering ears. He leans against his staff, sighing and shaking his head at the scene. He turns and heads up a hill for a better view and quieter surroundings. The blizzard has stopped, and the wind is still, so the cold isn't uncomfortable now. He'd been thankful that he was in his wolf form while searching for his da'fen; anything less insulated would have suffered as much as she had.

The silence as he reaches the crest of the hill is a blissful blessing. The valley beyond stretches out to the north; he can feel the gentle pull of Tarasyl'an Te'las' magic from here. His connection to it has never waned. He wonders if his da'fen feels the same connection. It is his magic in her palm that guided her so easily to it the last time, after all. She must have a similar connection.

He looks now to the future. He will still need to contact Mythal, but hopefully not to take her power this time. She is the last friend he has amongst his kin; that relationship should not be squandered. He will visit one of her shrines soon, to call on her. But first, they must all reach his fortress and his da'fen must wake.

He looks down toward the camp, watching as the arguing between the shems reaches a fever pitch. He can pick up bits of their shouts, even from where he stands. He sighs and begins the trek back down the hill, noting as they seem to fracture and go their separate ways, frustration and doubt in their postures. He sees his da'fen coming to the mouth of her tent, relief washing over him that she's woken. She fists her hands on her hips as she looks around, appearing lost at the helm of her ship.

The rich voice of Mother Giselle lifts over the silence of the camp as he reaches the edge of it, beginning a shemlen song of struggle and hope. Others join in, adding their voices to the strength of the words. Soon, every shem in the camp is singing, many coming forward to kneel in reverence of his da'fen. Humans and dwarves and qunari alike, pledging themselves to her cause.

The sight is awe-inspiring.

As the song ends, he starts to make his way to her, waiting for the Mother to step away, and the crowd to turn their attention to each other before he steps behind her, "A word?"

He leads the way to the unlit beacon, calling veilfire to it as he turns and waits for her patiently, a smile on his lips.

She smirks as she reaches him, "You know, you said the exact same thing to get my attention last time."

He chuckles, "Yes, I remember. But I do not wish to discuss foci, or comment on the fickleness of shem hearts this time. Instead, I wish to discuss our impending journey. You know the way, yes?"

She nods, "Yes. And even if I wasn't sure," she holds her left hand up, sparking the anchor, "this will guide me well enough. It has a very strong pull to its second home."

"Second home?"

"Well, the first is the Fade, of course," she sighs, "But that is everywhere. There is only one Tarasyl'an Te'las."

He nods, "Indeed. My main motivation for asking you about this is to wonder if you would wish to partake in the magics held in our home? There is much power in the keystones; magics that have existed since before the rest of the fortress was even built. I could teach you how to properly tap into them, if you wish."

Her eyebrows raise, "Would these magics diminish if I were to use them?"

He smiles, "Not at all. If I teach you how to use them properly, your use of them will strengthen the magics there. When I occupied it in centuries past, my forces and I used the magic constantly. It is what allowed the structures to stand, mostly untarnished, for as long as they have. It is also what has allowed it to remain hidden from those it is not revealed to."

Surprise flashes on her face, "You mean if someone doesn't know it's there, they wouldn't be able to find it? At all?"

He smirks, "That is correct. The magics there serve many purposes, but one is indeed to hide it from those who would do its occupants harm. It is why Corypheus and his agents never find it."

She smiles, "What about the Avaar chieftain who assaults it with goats? How did he find it?"

He laughs, "What harm did he actually cause? He meant us no ill will."

She grins, "True enough. I'm just surprised the keep itself would allow any assault on it, no matter how minor."

"It was hardly an actual assault," he snorts, "goats are the least of its worries."

"So how would it appear to someone who truly meant us harm?"

"It would not appear. To an enemy looking at the valley, they would simply see a valley."

She tilts her head, "Really? How fascinating. What about one of your kin who wished you harm? Would they also see nothing but a valley?"

"Yes," his eyebrows crease in concern, "but I am curious why you would ask this."

She shrugs, "Just idle curiosity. I found it odd that Mythal never came there, considering you were there all that time, as well as her host's daughter and grandson. Then again, she didn't exactly seem keen on revealing herself to anyone else, either, so perhaps that is it."

Understanding and amusement mingle on his face, "Ah, Mythal. She knows Tarasyl'an Te'las very well. She helped me bind the magics that protect it to the stones. She has never wished ill upon me, nor is it likely she ever will, now. She has always been a steadfast friend, through everything. She was the one who discovered and wished to raise me in the first place."

"Indeed? That is interesting. I didn't know the All-Mother was an ally to the Dread Wolf."

He chuckles, "Yes, she is. She encountered opposition in her wish to raise me, however. In the end, it was one of the Forgotten Ones, Anaris, who seconded her vote and assisted in the ritual. It was unprecedented for the two sides to work together in such an endeavor. It led to my ability to move freely between their two worlds without consequences."

Shock splays across her face, "The god of pestilence helped raise you? Are you serious?"

He nods, smiling, "Yes, I am. He saw merit in me, just as Mythal had. Though, they were a different set of merits than Mythal's, naturally."

She grins wolfishly, "Oh, this I have to hear. Do tell."

He laughs, "Mythal saw cleverness and a genuine will to help the underprivileged. Anaris saw stubbornness and the ability to cause rampant chaos. Both are oversimplified explanations, but that is essentially the reasoning behind my raising."

"Agreed," she nods, "that does seem rather too simple. I am curious, why do you think they would raise me, as you said?"

"Ah," he gives her a sly smirk, "Now that is a good question. Part of it, as I stated, is your capacity to care for everyone equally. So, compassion, for one. The other parts... you are as clever as I am, you are a thinker, you are passionate, playful, curious, always wishing to learn everything. You lead well, and make difficult decisions with a focus and fairness I have rarely seen in any other. You are open-minded, but what you believe, you believe whole-heartedly. You are without reserve. You protect. You love. And you are beautiful. The decision would be nearly unanimous, if they had the ability to make such decisions right now."

She blushes and smiles, before mild confusion pinches her brow, "Nearly? Who would object?"

He sighs, "Well, Andruil would object on principle; simply because you are my choice, and my mate. The others likely would not have much of an issue, though the Twins often disagree with me, simply for spite. The forgotten ones might possibly think you too pure, but I doubt it. In any case, this is all academic; since none of them are here to object."

"Perhaps," she nods, "but it is still good to know where I stand, should that change. So, you think Mythal would approve? You didn't mention her objecting."

"Yes, Mythal would approve," he chuckles, "She would likely say something to the effect of, 'It is about time you finally found your equal, old friend. When should I expect her for the ritual?'"

Her eyes widen, "Equal?"

He looks down at her, capturing her chin with his fingers, "You are, and always have been my equal, vhenan. I was simply too blind to see it before. Mythal would have seen it long before I did. She was always far wiser in matters of the heart than I."

She smiles, reaching up to sweep his hair behind his ear. He leans into the slight pressure, and she rests her palm there, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. She comes to rest with her brow against his, hand hooked behind his neck, thumb stroking his pulse point softly.

"Ar lath ma, vhenan," she murmurs, "It means more than I can say that you see me as such. Ma serannas."

His smile is heard in his voice, "You need not thank me for something that you brought about yourself, ma uth'lath. But you are more than welcome."

He tilts his head, leaning down to capture her lips briefly, cradling her face in his hands. He takes her hand as he releases her, "Come, you need to rest and drink a potion. We rise at dawn to break camp and begin our journey. I will speak to your advisors and inform them of the plan."

She nods as they tread back to her tent, "Come to me after that?"

He raises a brow as he looks askance at her, "Vhenan, you are in no condition-"

She interrupts him with the wave of her hand, rolling her eyes, "Not for that. I know I need to rest. But is there any reason for my bed to be cold while I do so?"

She has him there, "I... suppose not," he bows his head with a tiny smile, "Ma nuvenin, I shall be there soon."

Her grin breeds one of his own, "Ma serannas, vhenan. I'll see you soon."

With this, she ducks into her tent, untying the open flaps and letting them fall closed behind her.

He sighs, sparing a smirk and shaking his head for his admiration at how well she twists him around her fingers. His equal, indeed.

He moves to the large tent her advisors have adopted as their operation center. They gather at his approach, obviously eager for news from their leader.

"We have a plan. There is a place to the north..."

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

She digs out an elfroot potion from her robe and uncorks it, tossing it back and swallowing quickly. She feels the rejuvenating effects go to work as she begins to unbutton her robe, untying the sash and letting the fabric slip from her fingers. She stretches her neck as she slides her robe off, a sigh escaping her while she threads it over a pole at the back of the tent.

She pulls the furs off of her cot, tossing them on top of the one someone has already spread on the floor. She folds the cot away and pulls every fur and possible pillow from around the tent, onto the pile of comfort she's creating on the floor. She finds two bedrolls and slides them under the furs for extra padding, testing it all to find it rather satisfactory. Not as nice as her bed at Tarasyl'an Te'las, but luxurious for their current location, to be sure.

She throws a wide blanket over all of it, slipping under it and giving a satisfied sigh as she settles in to wait for Fen'harel. She feels her loosely braided bun pulling at her scalp, so she sits back up, sighing as she begins to work through it all. Drawing the main braid out of the bun, she loosens it, letting the long ropes of hair fall down her back as she moves to the smaller side braids.

All of her hair is down by the time she hears un-booted feet bearing down on the already compressed snow in front of her tent. She feels his magic pooling into the tent, and sends her own out to lap along his in invitation. The tent flaps are pressed aside to allow his form through, though he pauses and ties each flap shut against intruders and the elements, before he turns to look at her. He holds a finger to his lips, then casts a spell that looks remarkably similar to Dorian's privacy spell, but which covers the interior of the tent.

He lowers the finger and they share a smile, after which she points at each piece of clothing he wears individually, "Off, off, off, off, off," she points at his leg and foot wraps, "Definitely off."

Amused surprise pulls his lips into a grin, "Demanding, are we not? Shall I simply strip naked, or does her highness prefer I wear small clothes to her bed?"

She scoffs and sends a wave of magic at him, enough to shove him back a little as a tease, "I'm wearing my smalls, and I'm not queen of anything. No reason to call me highness, you sarcastic ass."

He laughs, "Oh-ho-ho, I see! A 'sarcastic ass', am I? Well then, you must be the queen of sarcastic asses everywhere."

Mock indignation has her mouth open in shock, "I am not! My ass is not sarcastic!"

He shakes his finger at her, "Na-ah, you just said I am a sarcastic ass. As my ass belongs to you, it is indeed your ass. And as you are my queen, you are indeed the queen of sarcastic asses."

She laughs, falling back from where she'd been sitting up to speak with him to lie flat, clapping her palm over her eyes and giggling. By the time she's calmed her fit of laughter, she feels the pressure of him crawling over her. After she wipes the tears of laughter from her eyes, she looks up to see him smiling at her openly. He leans down and kisses her sweetly, straddling her hips and resting on his elbows, seeming perfectly happy to stay there for the moment.

He ends the kiss, nuzzling her nose with his and grinning, "Have I appeased the queen of sarcastic asses? May I get under the covers now? Or does the queen need more appeasement?"

She giggles, shaking her head and rolling her eyes as a blush creeps over her cheeks and ears, "Yes, oh king of sarcastic asses, you may get into bed. You have well appeased your queen."

He straightens above her, then gives a flourishing bow, still straddling her, "Ma serannas, my queen."

She rolls her eyes again as laughter claims her for a few more seconds, "You're welcome," she reaches over and slings the blanket back toward her as she continues, "Now get into bed, sarcastic ass of my heart."

Rather than move, he folds his arms over his chest, one hand moving to curl his fingers over his chin as he looks up in thought, "My my, a new title. I do like that one. It goes well with 'Roamer of the Beyond'."

She snorts and gently smacks his stomach with the back of her open hand, "Only you would think those two go together. Come to bed, 'He Who Hunts Alone', before I go to sleep alone and leave your sarcastic ass far behind in the Fade."

He leans down with a roguish grin, "Is that a challenge, vhenan?"

A raised eyebrow and a smirk is the first half of her reply, "Perhaps. You'll have to get in bed and go to sleep to find out."

He rolls off of her and settles himself with his arm outstretched to her, never losing his grin, "Then let the race begin. Come, I will cast us both into the Fade at the same time. Let us see who catches whom."

She slides over to him and lays her head on his chest, flinging her arm across his middle and tangling her leg with his. They fit together more perfectly than she'd ever imagined. Just as their magics compliment each other, so do their physical forms. The thought brings a shiver of delight rolling down her spine.

He nuzzles his cheek into her hair, his arm curling around her snugly, "Comfortable, ma uth'lath?"

She nods, relishing the feeling of his bare skin against hers more than she should, for her promised activity of actually resting.

He casts his spell over them both, sending them tumbling together into the Fade.

It is an odd sensation; she's never been joined in the same instant on this journey before. But if there is to be a race, she will set the scene the moment she arrives. If she can beat him to it, that is. She glances over at him as they fall to see a sly smirk on his lips, the spark of mischief in his eyes. Dread Wolf indeed.

She focuses on her own plan, starting the basic shapes of it the moment she sees the raw Fade begin to form before her. She encases him in a room built of lightning, then bolts in the first direction she sees, his laughter trailing behind her.

She takes the form of the wolf she prefers here, her six green eyes observing every detail as she flies past it. Details which are starting to look familiar. Too familiar. She skids to a halt, whipping about to come face to face with his wolf, which is looking at her with an amused grin.

She growls. He'd been folding the landscape in on itself so she would make no progress, an endless stream of Fade to keep her in one place. She narrows all six eyes at him, flattening her ears in displeasure, then huffing and sitting on the spot.

He tilts his head curiously, nuzzling her, 'Given up already, vhenan?'

She huffs again, leaning in to reply, then realizing she has no idea how to actually do that. She backs up and looks off to the side, growling in frustration and embarrassment.

He seems to realize the problem, 'Try.'

Her gaze snaps back to him, eyes narrowed again. She snorts, shaking her head and looking off to the side again.

A more insistent, 'Try.'

She snaps at him and shakes her wolf form, snarling, "You mock me. It is not a power I possess."

He rolls all six eyes and sighs, nudging her again, 'And how exactly do you know this, if you will not try?'

She glares at him, "Do I look like a divine being to you?"

'Yes. But that is not the point. Cole is not divine, yet he can do it as easily as I can. Try. It.'

"How? I don't even know where to begin. I didn't even know it was possible, until tonight."

'Project your will through your touch. Choose your words and project them, or choose an emotion, if that is easier for now.'

"Like my magic?"

'Yes. It may, or may not work outside of the Fade, but it will work within it. Try.'

"Fine."

She lays her hand on his head and concentrates on one word to start.

'Ass.'

He snorts, 'If you were trying to call me an ass, you succeeded.'

She grins sheepishly, "I was. Not like you can blame me. I mean honestly, folding the raw Fade in on itself to trap me?"

He huffs a chuckle, 'Yes, well, it was the simplest way to trap you. I'll admit the lightning cage was a surprise, but how long did you really think that would hold me?'

She laughs as she calls her Fade wolf once more, then brushes past him, rubbing herself along his side as she pushes the memory of a certain explicit fantasy through the connection, 'Long enough to distract you with that.'

Before he can react, she shapes a hole and jumps into it, sealing it behind her as she quickly ports herself to another section of the Fade. She'd learned that trick ages ago, to avoid demons she encountered. While they don't appear in the raw Fade as often as actual spirits, they are usually best avoided, in her experience.

As she emerges from her portal, she glances around in curiosity to see an already formed scene. She almost forms another portal to leave; she doesn't want to intrude on anyone's dream by accident, after all. But another look has her recognizing the scene with a gasp.

Fen'harel's temple.

She cannot see anyone around, though a pillar is blocking the throne from her view. She creeps over to get a view, though she is not as quiet as she wishes to be, with her claws tapping against the smooth stone floor on every step. She peers around the pillar to see Fen'harel lounging on it in robes of blue and black, trimmed with silver. It matches the statue of his wolf above him perfectly. The robe is open, she notes, and he is... entirely bare beneath it. She swallows thickly as the realization sends heat to her entire body, ruffling her fur.

He appears to find the nails on his right hand, which is raised before him, fascinating as he speaks, "Do you think me blind and deaf, vhenan? I know you are there. I also know that you are staring," he slowly turns to focus on her with a smug smirk, "If the view entrances you so, perhaps you should have a closer look?"

Her eyes are wide as his voice seems to have frozen her in place for the duration of his speech; though it is, of course, far more likely that she was stunned into shock, than him actually holding her there on purpose. Another wave of heat surges over her skin at his invitation. She hesitantly takes a single step, her head lowered as she watches him with every eye, looking for any trick, any deception.

She finds none, and takes another few steps.

He watches her, amusement playing over his lips. He rests his chin on his fist, waiting patiently.

She urges her limbs into action, taking the last eighteen steps in one go; then comes to the foot of the three steps leading up to his throne and sits, looking up at him. From this angle, she can see his robed lower legs, and his very bare chest and face, which he has relieved his fist of. His hands are now folded in front of him loosely, a smirk still tugging his lips.

"You are rather more timid now than the she-wolf that pressed such a luscious scene into my head mere moments ago. What changed between then and now? Is the invitation not clear enough?"

She looks down to the side, considering. This is her fault, after all. She did indeed give him a fantasy she'd had of taking him on his throne. But to actually be confronted with the possibility of fulfilling it-

Fuck it.

Or rather, him.

She recalls the sheer silk robe she'd been wearing in the fantasy, forming it around her as she closes her eyes and shakes the wolf off. Blue, black and silver, to match his, but far more revealing than his could ever hope to be. She opens her eyes enough to look up at him through her lashes with a coy smile, head bowed, arms spread to display herself in all her glory.

"Is this closer to what you were expecting, Fen'harel?"

His lip is caught between his teeth, nostrils flaring with a sharply inhaled breath as he takes in the vision before him. It takes a moment for him to compose himself enough to respond, and his voice is rough and low when he answers.

"No. It is far, far better than what I expected. As exquisite as your fantasy was, ma lath, it is nothing compared to this."

She smiles, "I am glad to hear it."

She moves up the steps and stands before him, her knees pressing the front of the seat on his throne, her hands resting beside his on the arms. She leans in, claiming his lips with hers; whispering a spell against his flesh that has magic reaching down to her robe, unlacing it slowly to match his state of undress. She lifts her hands to the sides of his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss, which he willingly obliges to.

When she feels his hands on her, she stops, backing off quietly. She takes his wrists gently in her hands, moving them back to the arms of his throne, keeping eye contact the entire time.

"No," is all she says, pressing down on his wrists before resuming her previous activities.

One of her hands trails a path of magically-induced heat down his chest, all the way down to his quickly hardening shaft, curling her fingers around its base gently as her lips blaze a trail of their own down to his jawline. She nibbles her way from his chin, to just below his ear; her hand moving inch by inch in time with her mouth, from the base, to the tip. She takes his ear lobe into her mouth, following as he leans his head to the side to give her better access with a heady groan. She nibbles on it, pulling it gently with her tongue and teeth, suckling it and mimicking the motions on the head of his manhood teasingly.

She pushes to him the image of her, on her knees before him, her lips on his arousal instead of his ear lobe; another tease, one that elicits a groaning, tortured growl from the back of his throat.

She slides up the bottom edge of his ear with her tongue, her fingers marking the same path on the bottom of his erection, feeling it jerk away from her in excitement as he gasps when she nibbles on the tip of his ear.

Inch by inch, she kisses and licks and nibbles her way down from his ear, his neck, his chest; giving special attention to only one of his nipples, leaving the other unsatisfied. She moves down his ribs, feathering her lips over the sensitive skin on his side, seeing and feeling the muscles tense and relax there in response. She reaches his hip and nips gently, tearing a growl from his throat, before soothing the spot with her tongue and lips.

She lathes her tongue along the last swath of skin between hip and cock, laying both hands on his thighs as she sinks to her knees. She turns her face, wetting her lips and wrapping them around the side of him, licking and suckling her way up to the head slowly to the music of his hissing groans. She finishes the upward trek with taking just the head into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks and teasing the bottom with her tongue as she lets him fall from her mouth with a wet pop.

His entire upper body reacts, curling inward with a shudder. She looks up at him, noticing for the first time that his arms are shaking, his knuckles white with the grip he has on the arms of his throne. She smiles in understanding, placing her right hand over his left, curling her fingers around his wrist and gently lifting. She guides his hand to rest on the side of her neck, and is surprised when he leans down to fiercely capture her lips with his, pushing 'Ma ir'serannas, vhenan,' to her, along with a feeling of overwhelming gratitude. He breaks the kiss quickly, looking physically pained at doing so, taking a shaky breath and nodding at her to continue.

She smiles and lowers her mouth over him, taking him to the hilt and sealing her lips around his flesh, before hollowing her cheeks once more, milking him gently with her tongue as she slowly withdraws. She releases the pressure enough to swirl her tongue around the head easily when she reaches it, flicking her tongue over the hole at the top before sliding back down to the bottom once more.

She can feel his blood pumping through the head of his cock in her throat, and she smiles as she employs a new trick, swallowing to constrict her throat around him. The moan that he can't quite strangle is decadent enough that she returns it as she comes back up, the vibration making him twitch against the roof of her mouth, his hand on her neck tightening on reflex.

She looks up to see his eyes closed, brow tense with concentration. She prods his stomach with a finger, pushing 'No. Watch. You should not miss anything,' to him.

A weak, strained chuckle sounds from him, "Ma lath, I believe I mentioned at one point that it had been a very long time for me; if I watch, this will all be over far sooner than I wish it to be."

Her eyebrows raise in surprised understanding, making an 'Oh!' sound, before sucking her way off of his manhood with a smile, as she keeps her eyes locked to his the whole way up.

The moment he is free of her, he pulls her forward as he leans down to capture her lips, devouring her wholly as his magic flows through her in waves, teasing and taunting her, speeding up her heart as he gently leans back, tugging her with him. She climbs onto his throne, settling into his lap and straddling him. One hand fists into his hair, the other slides down his arm to grasp his unused hand, placing it firmly on her ass cheek as she begins to grind her wet cunt along the bottom of his erection.

She swallows both of their moans eagerly, her now free hand moving down between them to cup the top side of him against her, building him up slowly for what would happen in moments, if she can hold out that long. His magic is making waiting more than difficult. She decides to fight fire with fire, pulsing hers against his in a dance of sexual energy that tightens his grip on her skin, a fluttering moan lifting from deep in his chest.

She can't wait any longer.

She lifts up at the top of her grinding motion, pressing on him just enough to position him, and lowering herself onto him in one fell swoop. Their kiss breaks as they both cry out in varying tones; hers a shout of surprised ecstasy, his a growling moan squeezed through clenched teeth. He wastes little time, her head is thrown back and her chest on perfect display; an open invitation which he gladly accepts, dipping to fill his mouth with her breasts, lavishing attention on each one lovingly as she begins to rise and fall over him.

The hand she used to push him into her is now braced on his thigh; her other hand eagerly pulling him to her breasts, fingers clenching and relaxing in his hair as she guides his mouth to be rougher or gentler by her touch. Her nipples are hard peaks when she finally pulls him away, her lips returning to his as she gasps breathlessly against him.

"Take me, Fen'harel. Claim your mate!"

Before she can blink, he's behind her, one arm wrapped around her stomach like a steel band, the other hand teasing her breasts. He spears into her relentlessly as his mouth slinks down the side of her neck, nestling into the crook of her neck and shoulder, clamping down enough to hold her there as his pace increases, soft growls slowly growing louder and more frequent against her skin. His magic enfolds her completely, dwarfing her own and pushing it back inside her, like he is pushing inside her; a sensation that would bring fear in any other situation only bringing elation here, as he takes complete control.

The role reversal drives her to new heights as his magic tightens, pushing her farther than it ever has before, driving her over the edge so quickly that it should be embarrassing. But she is in such euphoric bliss, she can't spare a thought to care. She screams his name, back bowing out against his steel grip, her head pressing into his shoulder as he continues to pound into her, lengthening her orgasm through magic and continuous stimulation. When she can no longer draw breath and feels the edges of her blissful white going black, he withdraws his magic, slowing his pace to something gentler as she recovers.

He releases her for the moment from his bite, trailing his nose up her neck to growl into her ear, "You... are," he thrusts sharply to emphasize the next word, "exquisite. Once we get to Tarasyl'an Te'las, you will not leave our bed for days. I would say years, but we have work to do."

She is boneless, her mind racing to catch up enough to growl out a single word as she reaches behind her to tangle her fingers in his hair and grip with what strength she can muster, "Mine."

The word clicks something on in his head, his grip tightening, teeth setting against her skin roughly as his pace returns two-fold. The hand that had teased her breasts now reaches down near where they are joined to trace something over her pubic bone, sending a spark of restorative magic through her. She gasps as her previous energy flows back into her; strength returning to her muscles and the over-sensitivity that orgasm brings, dissipating.

His voice brushes along her consciousness, 'You claim me as yours? Do you truly know what it is you are claiming, little wolf? Do you truly know what it is, to lay claim, and be claimed, by the Dread Wolf? Shall I show you?'

She tries to look at him, though all she can clearly see is his ear laid low against his head, and a dim red magical glow emanating from the area his eyes and mouth are, reflected from her skin to his. She shudders as she feels him push insistence for an answer; one way or another, against her mind.

She relaxes into him, acceptance and need consuming her, 'Yes. Show me. Whatever comes, you are mine, and I am yours.'

He growls, his jaws tightening, 'Be certain, little wolf. I cannot take this back, once given.'

'Then give it. I am certain, if you are.'

A growl that shakes her to her very soul crawls through her; like a predator seeking prey, devouring everything in its wake. For a time, she forgets all that she is, only able to feel the wolf prowling within her, seeking her out with frightening accuracy, pinning her at ever turn, raking its claws down her back as she escapes, snapping its jaws into her shoulder as it marks her, thrusting as it claims her. Her mind snaps to from the dream-like state at the sudden, very real pain in her shoulder; a piercing, burning sensation forcing a cry of pain from her lips.

It ends as quickly as it began.

His face is buried in her back as his thrusts slow, arms slackening their grip to a point, though still holding her in place. His hands stroke her skin in gentle reverence. She looks down and gasps as she sees blood trickling from an already mostly healed wound on her shoulder. This... this will scar. There is no question. The fingers of her free hand travel up to touch it, surprised when she feels magic at the site, still at work.

He moves his head back to her shoulder as he explains, "The magic allows the scar to form. It is healed, but scars take time to form. The rune will protect it from fully healing until the scar is set."

"Your mark is a bite?"

He frowns at her, "It is more than a bite, little wolf. It is a symbol, an indication that none other may claim you."

"Your wolf was hunting me. I couldn't even remember who I was. He hunted and took me; took my soul, my body... is that as you intended?"

He sighs, nuzzling into her neck softly, "What did you think would happen when you asked the Dread Wolf to claim you in his domain, little wolf? I only did as you demanded."

She snorts, "I was rather demanding about it, wasn't I?"

She feels her smile against her skin, "You were. Do you still wish to claim me, little wolf?"

She nods, smiling, "Yes, though I don't think it'll be quite as dramatic as you claiming me was."

He huffs, and she feels his absence behind and inside her as he instantly returns to his seat again, pulling her to him once more, "And why should it be any less 'dramatic', as you put it? This is the Fade, vhenan; it can be anything you wish it to be."

She looks down at him, eyes wide, "Vhenan, your eyes are glowing."

He smiles, a hand coming up to cup her cheek, "I have claimed you, ma lath. That kind of bond alters certain things in the Fade. This is one of them. Once you have claimed me, you will be able to see past it, if you choose."

"I will?"

He smiles, "Yes. Your eyes will glow the same for me once it is done."

She nods in understanding, then smiles, a thought coming to her mind. She leans in and claims his lips, threading the fingers of both hands through his hair as she takes control once more; her magic fanning out to flick against him gently at first, only teasing. Then, she begins to dig deeper, her magic reaching for places that entice and excite, tease and delight. It teases and tantalizes all of his secret places, dragging a growling groan out from somewhere deep in his lungs. His fingers curl into her skin, clawing her back as his teeth nip her lip harshly, taunting a whimpering moan from her throat.

He releases her lip and she breaks the kiss, leaning back and lifting herself up with a smile, finding and angling herself back down around him, sinking down with a lustful sigh as she bites her own swollen lip. She moves forward as she begins to ride him, flicking her tongue over the top edge of his ear while she pulses her magic against him with every downward thrust, his muscles tensing with building pleasure as he slowly writhes beneath her.

She bites the tip of his ear smartly, inducing a grunt of pain and a warning growl from him, which she summarily ignores, indicating so with a particularly forceful thrust of her hips and magic both. She grins as he curls in on himself, his brow resting on her shoulder for a time, catching his breath. When he lifts his head again, she continues from the tip of his ear, down the bottom edge. She gives a nip to his ear lobe, then continues on a path down his neck, leaving kisses and bites in her wake.

He tilts his head to the side as she reaches the place she is to mark him. She opens her jaw wide, teasing his skin with her hot breaths and the very tips of her naturally sharp canines. She feels him tense in anticipation, but instead of biting him, she closes her lips on the spot, only scraping her teeth on the skin, her lips following and soothing any irritation.

When she kisses the place again is when she truly begins. She sends a powerful pulse into her magic, and pushes a scene into his mind as strongly as she can-

Her Fade wolf stalking him in a dark forest, hunting him as the prey for years upon years, thousands of near misses; a short lifetime of pent-up frustration driving her onward, chasing him, hot on his heels. Then, finally, she catches his true scent. Now it is a real hunt. She catches the trail, following it without hesitation, every ounce of power she has coming to bear, dedicated to tracking him down. He's in her sights now, he turns, snarling; eyes glowing like red beacons in the night. She ducks under his maw, using her momentum to come up and bowl him over, jaws tight around his throat.

There she stands, teeth digging into the Dread Wolf's throat, his legs scrambling for purchase as he lies on his back; a far more submissive and vulnerable position than he's ever been in. She huffs a laugh against his fur; she could tear his throat out with a simple twist of her head, but that is not her desire. She puts a paw on his chest, holding him steady enough to give her precious seconds to release his throat, only to clamp down on his shoulder.

As her wolf bites him in the vision, she bites him on his throne, her wolf releasing the bite as she does, leaning up to howl in triumph. The vision ends as her second bliss begins, riding out the exultation she feels on his cock, flaring her magic through him like wildfire to drive him over the same precipice she is joyously tumbling over. They scream their pleasure to the walls of the temple, which echo wonderfully back at them, with the truth that they have both screamed each others' names.

They collapse against each other, brow to brow, gasping in air as if they are drowning. Which, truth be told, they have been. Drowning in each other, in pleasure, in pain; in the bond they now share. It takes quite some time before either of them can conjure the energy to do more than simply breathe. When they finally have caught their breaths, mostly, Fen'harel is the first to speak.

"You wanted me to submit?"

She takes a few more breaths, nodding against his brow.

He chuckles, "Ma nehn."

She backs up, looking at him with a quirked eyebrow.

He grins, "All you had to do was ask."

She gives a breathless laugh, shaking her head and smiling, "I'll keep that in mind."

He leans up and presses a kiss to her lips, then relaxes back, still smiling at her. She realizes that his eyes are no longer glowing, and she utters a sigh of relief that she covers with a smile.

She nods toward her bite on his shoulder, "You should treat your mark, vhenan. I don't know what you did to mine."

"Ah, yes," he lays his hand over it, a blue glow emanating from it, followed by a red glow, before he lowers his hand, "There, done."

She raises her eyebrows, "That was fast."

He smirks, "We are in the Fade, all magic is fast here."

She tilts her head, "Point taken."

He raises both eyebrows at her, "Really, vhenan?"

Her brow pinches in confusion, "What? You made a good point."

He levels a deadpan look at her, "Point taken?" he pointedly looks down to where they are still joined, then back up, "Must I say anything else?"

Her hand flies to her mouth as her eyebrows raise in shock, cheeks and ears flushing bright red, "You absolute ass!" she laughs, bracing herself against his chest and holding her stomach, "I can't believe you!"

He joins her laughter and shakes his head, then leans up to capture her mouth once more. He murmurs against them as he lays chaste kisses all across her lips, "You-love-me-for-it."

She takes his head in her hands and holds him in place, so she can kiss him properly, sending across, 'I do, forever and always.'