Lots of translations at the end for this one. Alsoooo lots of things I'm not going to translate for you because - rules. Just to warn you.

It always kind of bugged me that Solas and Lavellan don't use more Elven, especially in their more intimate moments. It's his first language, after all - you'd think he would slip back into it at times. She, meanwhile, has been taught to view whatever she knows of it as a precious part of her cultural identity, one that was nearly stolen from her people when they were colonized and enslaved. I imagine speaking it to Solas would be identity-affirming for her.

Changeless

I still felt the urgent fluttering of the spirit even as I pulled myself free of the Fade, like a butterfly attempting to land on my face. "I know," I whispered, trying to reassure it even through the Veil. "I already knew - though I didn't want it to be true." The sensation subsided, either because I placated the spirit, or because I had come fully awake. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling above me.

I had decided, sometime while I was winding my way through the dream-memory the spirit had led me to: I would give Lisell anything and everything that would fit in a pack and be of use to her, and then if she wanted to go - I would let her go.

That was what these dreams had been about, after all: a reminder of who she had been, how she had changed - and also how she had not.

For a moment, I allowed myself to feel the agony of the decision - and then I carefully put it away. It served no purpose but to distract me from doing what I knew to be right.

Though still a little before dawn, I rose and set about making a list for Tamorian to start on when he brought my breakfast. And when I came to the end of my ideas too early, I took down the letter I had nearly finished and read it again. If Lisell chose to stay - she had no need of any of this. If she didn't - I could send it with her, knowing she had at least one record of all my remorse.

I crossed out my last line. I have one last apology to make, it seems, I wrote underneath. I should never have tried to hold you here. Your presence once again filled my dark days with light - but I know it was stolen light, and undeserved. I know, too, my repentance comes late, but I hope not too late to be of use.

Underneath, in Elven runes, I wrote: Vis mar'lean din, ara alas'en in'juin banal. Then I made the copy of the song I had promised her, folded the sheets of paper together, and sat until Tamorian appeared with my meal, trying to weigh the possibility she would stay with me, at least for a while. I gave my aide the list of things I needed, and asked him to add anything he thought of that might be helpful for someone traveling alone over a great distance. I gave him, too, my letter, and asked him to put it somewhere in the pack he found, safe, but not too easily found. If she chose to leave, I didn't want my words to make her rethink the choice - at least not while it was too raw for her to think clearly.

Then I ate, tasting nothing, and forced myself to focus on the most mundane task available: remaking the paths that led to the manor, and strengthening the sense of disorientation that would afflict anyone not following an approved path.

Tamorian found me early in the afternoon to let me know he had put together everything I had requested, and had taken the liberty of asking for Mihren's help in thinking of anything I might have missed. The result was a large, heavy pack, which Mihren assured me was nevertheless well-distributed enough not to cause Lisell too much trouble, plus two weapons: a dagger that had been found strapped to what remained of Lisell's left arm when the women first undressed her to be bathed, and the light crossbow Mihren had given her to use when they hunted. "My papers?" I asked, and Tamorian showed me the interior pocket where the letter had been stashed away.

In all, they told me, the pack held a month's worth of food, a bedroll, tools that would help Lisell craft new crossbow bolts or salvage old ones if she began to run short, and a change of clothing plus warmer layers in case, for some reason, she found herself driven toward the Vimmarks. There was a skin of water she would likely have no trouble filling in the spring runoff, a fire-starting kit, a whetstone for sharpening her dagger and other tools, even a large piece of waxed canvas to help keep her dry when it inevitably rained. I could think of nothing to add as their list kept growing - fishing gear, powders which would make weak potions for healing when added to water, a cup-sized bowl for boiling water or cooking small portions of food over the fire - it seemed to go on forever.

Seemed to - but didn't.

"You're going to send Lisell off, then, Fen'Harel?" Mihren asked, unable or unwilling to meet my gaze.

"Not send her," I said. "But I am giving her the option, if she wants it."

"She will," Mihren predicted, sounding grim. "Maybe not right away, but soon."

"So I expect," I replied, realizing as I said it that it was true. My attempts to calculate the possibilities earlier had been mere rationalizations for why she might not go. "I will take this to her myself. Is she in her room?"

Mihren made a quick inquiry, and then assured me that Lisell was up sewing with Esiel, and perhaps a few other women.

There were voices other than Lisell's in her room when I arrived. Rather than knocking, I set down the heavy pack and pushed the door open slowly, hoping to get a glimpse of her and judge her mood before I went in. Luck was with me - four women were crowded around her little table, none of them precisely facing the door, and they failed to notice my intrusion.

Lisell was three-quarters turned from me, and she was flanked by Esiel and Ailis, with Eilin sitting as straight across from her as the corner allowed. The other three women were talking about Zara's wedding, while Lisell remained mostly silent. The set of her shoulders told me she hadn't tried or hadn't managed to retreat back into intentional forgetfulness. I suspected she had been honest with the women around her about the cause of her low spirits, because one of them occasionally reached over to touch her shoulder or hand with a comforting smile.

As Esiel had explained, Lisell had a piece of leather doubled over her legs, and she stabbed her needle into it, using the resistance of the leather to pull the thread through - or part of the way through, depending on how well the embedded needle held - and then used her teeth to pull the stitch tight. It was slow compared to the speed with which the other women worked, but faster than I would have supposed. As I watched, Eilin gave her a little kick under the table and made a reference to some joke that apparently lay between them, and I caught the edge of Lisell's smile as she replied to the younger girl in a fond tone.

I tapped on the door and cleared my throat to get their attention. All four looked up, startled, but Lisell gave me a soft, sad smile. "You are earlier than usual, Fen'Harel," Esiel commented.

"Yes, I am," I said, pulling my eyes from my Inquisitor with an effort in order to acknowledge Esiel. My gaze returned to her immediately, whatever I had intended. "I have something for you, vhenan."

Eilin snorted and kicked her under the table again. "It's not," Lisell hissed, kicking her back and making Esiel hide a laugh.

"Have some respect, child," Ailis admonished the girl.

Eilin subsided, looking unrepentant.

"We will go," Esiel said. "Just give us a moment to gather everything up."

I nodded and stepped back outside, giving them space. There were some whispers, a few giggles, courtesy of Eilin, and once Lisell's exasperated voice - quiet, but not quiet enough - reached me: "No, Eilin, don't tell me that! I have to be able to look him in the eye after this!" Another giggle followed. It took a little time, but eventually the three guests came out, carrying sewing baskets. Esiel touched her skirts in the barest hint of a curtsy, and Ailis, following her, bowed her head slightly. Eilin, I think, would have stared shamelessly, but Ailis rapped the back of her head sharply with her knuckles, causing her to drop her chin in something that might pass as a respectful acknowledgement.

Lisell followed them a moment later, calling after them, "Let me know tomorrow how it turns out." Then she looked at me - in the eyes, so whatever Eilin had said hadn't affected her too deeply. Her face held the strain of the last day, but whatever she had resolved to do with her grief, it seemed to have left her more at peace.

"Ea son?" I asked, and she paused briefly to think over her answer.

"Well enough," she answered. "You were right - what you said last night. If I mean to outwit you, I can't attempt it while my mind is clouded with grief."

"And do you mean to?" I wondered, curious in spite of what I was here to tell her.

"I don't know," she said quietly. "I don't know that I can - put it away again. The grief."

I nodded, sympathetic. "Go back in," I told her, "and give me a moment."

In response, she studied me more with more skepticism. "You seem suspiciously grim for someone about to give a gift," she said.

"That is hardly out of character. Go in," I repeated.

This time she did as I asked. I reached down, picked up the pack that had gone unnoticed on the floor behind me, and brought it in.

Lisell froze in the act of seating herself as I set the pack down just far enough inside the door that I could turn and close it - which I did as she stared.

"Is that - " she began, rising to her feet again.

"I think it will be sufficient for your needs - for a while, anyway." I set the dagger and crossbow on a conveniently-placed table.

"Solas," she said, her tone a warning. "Don't get my hopes up if you don't mean it."

"I mean it," I assured her quietly, part of me perhaps hoping she wouldn't hear. "If - when - you choose to go, you are free," I went on, my voice growing in strength. "I should never have tried to hold you, ara sal'shiral. As much as I fear for your safety, my fear was never a valid reason - "

"I know," she interrupted. "But, Solas - after all of this, I think you should apologize less and kiss me more."

No second invitation was necessary. I crossed the small amount of floor separating us, pulled her against me, and, it felt, picked up where I had left off that first evening after our truce, when she was still too weak even to stand.

After a moment she pulled away a fraction. "Wait," she whispered, her lips still brushing mine - and then, belying her own words, she kissed me again. Then she laughed a little, pulling slightly further away. "No, I mean it, wait."

"I - " I began to protest.

"I'm telling myself," she clarified with another small, almost furtive, laugh.

Her leg brushed mine as she moved it, and then something scraped across the floor. I glanced behind me to see her pulling over a chair. "You're always taller," she told me, "and it's not fair, so you sit."

I let her push me into the chair, but when she straddled my lap I let out a hiss of either approval or disapproval - even I could not be certain which. She touched my jaw to get my attention. "Solas, ma vhenan, as a personal favor, do you think you could stop torturing yourself over whether it's the right thing or not? To begin with, I know everything now, and I still love you. As a secondary matter, I - something life-affirming would be - " She shook her head, unable to finish the thought, and took a small breath to calm herself, reclaiming her bantering tone with visible effort. "And then, too, I believe you did make me a promise - something about until I forget my name?"

She glanced away, blushing, as she reasserted her full understanding of at least the latter half of what I had said to her in Elven, and her grasp of the context for all of it.

"I believe I intended it as a warning," I responded, letting go the part she evidently did not want to discuss now, and putting my hands on her hips to pull her forward until her weight rested where I most ached to feel it.

"I'm not certain you're quite clear on what constitutes a warning," she said with a surprised breath of laughter. "Or a promise, for that matter," she added, her smile taking on a slightly condescending edge. "'I intend to remake the world and probably kill you' is not usually what one uses to gain support for one's cause."

"Are there any prizes for honesty?" I asked.

"I don't know," she replied, tracing one of my brows with her thumb. "Are there any prizes for anything?"

"Power," I offered.

"Love," she countered, her touch on my skin a presentiment of how sweet a prize love might offer.

I had no rebuttal as her fingers trailed their way down my face, smoothing away all the grim lines too many years of ceaseless defiance had carved there. The quality of her touch made me feel that, before this moment, perhaps I had been as insubstantial as a spirit. She affirmed my reality, shaping my features with her hand and occasionally her lips - and then, just when I thought I could bear no more sweetness, she leaned forward and kissed my lips lightly. "I told them you were beautiful," she said, smugly certain of her infallibility on this subject.

"Did you need this new perspective to settle the question for good?" I asked, trying not to let her know how breathless she had left me.

"No," she laughed, "I just needed you to stop trying to be in control of everything for a few moments."

"I have rarely felt less in control of anything than I do now," I assured her.

She flexed her hips, causing me to make a sound that was, without a doubt, entirely approving. "I can tell," she said.

I realized an important truth - at this moment, she wore far too much clothing.

She attempted to keep up, seeking my access to my skin as ardently I sought access to hers - but, in the first place, I had two hands to her one. In the second, she had no experience with removing another's clothing, and so my experience, while ancient, was still infinitely superior.

And that was for the best, because I had made her a promise - but fulfilling it meant putting aside my own desire for a while. Had she undressed me as quickly as I undressed her, I wasn't certain I would have managed it.

I picked her up once she was entirely bared and carried her to the bed, marveling at how wrong my assumptions had been. When she had first arrived, I had concluded she could no longer be in peak fighting form, based on her missing arm and the life of relative ease she now led. Reading the archive of reports from Eliwys had taught me to question that conclusion - but now, holding her in my arms, there could be no doubt. Soft skin, broken here and there by old scars, slid over taut muscle as she wrapped her legs around my waist, supporting herself with apparent ease. Before, her shoulders and arms had been more pronounced in their build than the rest of her body, attesting to the heft of the weapons she used. Now her legs bore that distinction.

She was dazzling, and I was glad beyond words that she had only managed to undress me to the waist.

"Te'telsila," I told her in response to the look of confusion she gave me when I began sliding down the bed rather than immediately covering her body with mine. After the briefest hesitation, I decided simply to tell her what I intended - either she would understand and be reassured, or puzzling through the words would give her something else to think of. I leaned forward to whisper in her ear: "I'athan nar'edhas'av ara av."

Her wide eyes when I pulled away gave no clues as to whether she had understood, but then her cheeks - and other enthralling parts of her body - went red, informing me she now understood.

Then - I proceeded to keep my promise.

Though she held on to sathan longer than I would have supposed, eventually I did manage to reduce her cries to complete unintelligibility.

When I judged my task complete, I rid myself of the rest of my clothing and then settled myself next to her, ready to wait until she was lucid enough to offer real assent to my intent to proceed. I hadn't long to wait. Only a few breaths passed before she said my name and turned toward me, her hand seeking me. I caught it and twined my fingers with hers, and she smiled. Then she opened her eyes and said, "Solas...aman nar'mis."

I shook my head, astonished, as ever, at how she managed to confound me at every turn. I pulled her closer, settled between her legs, and did as she asked. Only - slowly. It was no part of my plan to hurt her, even for the briefest instant, and so I forced myself into patience - though I will not claim that hearing her beg for more was not an exquisite pleasure. It was some recompense for the torture, however agreeable, I inflicted on myself.

For her, compensation came in a different form. When I at last satisfied her demands, it was only a matter of moments until she began to spiral again, and that was - well, it was almost as new an experience for me as for her. I thought I knew what to expect, but wrapped in her arms, her scent surrounding me, her voice in my ear, I found myself goaded into pleasure far beyond what memory promised. Every sense I possessed was first filled, and then utterly drowned, and it seemed to go on and on, until I wasn't certain how much more I could bear.

Undoubtedly, the fact that literal ages of the world had passed since I had sought such comfort with anyone contributed to the experience, but the sheer joy of it I put down entirely to loving, and being loved in return.

Afterward, that is - in the moment, Lisell and I were the only two things that existed in all the world, and it was a profound relief to find myself stripped of all thought and all internal debate. For that space of time, my existence was enough justification in itself.

Eventually bliss ebbed, as it had to, and it was only with a great effort that I avoided simply collapsing atop her. I felt as though I was shaking, but I managed to lower myself with enough care that Lisell did not bear my entire weight. Only most of it.

A soft laugh from her reassured me that she could, at least, breathe. We were still nose-to-nose, and she rubbed hers playfully against mine before straining forward to kiss me. I tilted my head to make it easier, and we lay for some minutes, exchanging lazy, satisfied kisses, until finally Lisell laughed again and murmured, "I think my leg is falling asleep."

Moving any further away from her was near the last thing I wanted to do, but as I had no real choice, I did it. Then, to my acute dismay, she pulled herself upright. I could not imagine what would drive her to do it, until she said, "I refilled my pitcher to wash for lunch, and only used a little, though the water is probably cold by now."

Ah. "No," I said. My thoughts lit upon the water pitcher, and with a spark of power and a mumbled word, I warmed it to a comfortable temperature. I likely should not have needed the word, but it helped me focus, and focus was a resource of which I was in short supply. "Warm," I assured her, burying my face in a convenient pillow that also conveniently smelled like her hair.

She returned a little later. "Do you want a turn, before the water gets cold again?" she asked, collapsing back onto the bed.

I didn't, but - "Very well," I sighed, heaving myself up.

She had curled up under the bedclothes when I returned, but had left one side turned down for me. I slipped in beside her and she moved happily into my arms, humming in appreciation at the slide of bare skin against bare skin. "Is it always like that?" she asked, her fingers tracing the muscles on my arm.

"In my experience? No," I admitted. "For us? I wouldn't know any more than you would." She was silent for a moment, and I realized there was a point I ought to clarify. "That was better than anything I previously knew how to imagine."

"Good," she said. "And...I feel the same." For a long moment we were both silent. Then she said, haltingly, "Solas...does this change...does it change anything?"

"No," I whispered against her hair.

She pressed her face to my chest and I felt her nod, and heard her swallow a few times. "Solas, ane...ane ara salan sasha suhlan."

"Eolasan, ma vhenan." Why, I didn't begin to comprehend, but I did know it was true.

"All right." I felt her take a deep breath. "All right."

"I know you will not stay forever," I told her. "But you can stay a little longer, if you want to."

"I do," she whispered.

I found her chin, tilted her face up toward mine, and kissed her, pulling her closer, one of my hands sliding down her back. How many nights had I refused to let myself dream of this? And here she was, soft skin beneath my hands, breasts pressed to my chest -

"Um, Solas?"

Well, such thoughts led to where such thoughts often did lead, though I was perhaps even more surprised than she at the renewal of my - interest. "No," I said, answering the unspoken question. "Not this evening, at least."

"Are you sure?" she persisted. "I could - "

"No," I said more quickly, before she said something that might tempt me. "I won't risk hurting you. It has been many long ages since I last experienced nu'da'din'sal'mah, but if thwarted desire posed any real threat, I would have died of it many times over since I came to love you." I glanced at her and realized she was watching me quizzically. Apparently it was not a term she - or perhaps the Dalish - knew. "I cannot give you a good translation," I told her after a moment of thought. "But suffice to say - you make me feel as though I were once again as young as you are. Or perhaps even younger."

The smile she gave me did nothing to help.

"I don't think you're thinking creatively enough," she informed me after a moment, and then added boldly, a determined set to her jaw: "Nuvenan ava nar'edhis." Immediately her confidence wavered a little. "But - you know I won't be as skilled as you were...earlier. You will have to teach me."

Why was I surprised? Had I given it a moment of thought, I would have known she would make the offer - but somehow I had not. Though, in fairness, thought had been a rare commodity over the last - amount of time we had been in bed, whatever that was.

No one in his right mind would deny such a request. As I remained sane at least for the moment, I invited her to proceed. And, as in most things she applied herself to, she was quick to learn, and she seemed pleased with her progress - though not nearly as pleased as I was.

I was tired, after - the inevitable lassitude of perfect contentment. Lisell curled against me, her breath and hair both tickling my skin, and I allowed myself to sink into pleasant dreams where I was able to remember and reflect without having to think of the future.

Let's get cracking on these translations:

Vis mar'lean din, ara alas'en in'juin banal: If your light dies, my world will live in darkness

Ea son?: Are you well?

Ara sal'shiral: My life, lit. my soul's journey

Te'telsila: Don't worry, imperative form

I'athan nar'edhas'av ara av: You already know I'm not translating this for you, because you can already infer what it means generally from the context.

Sathan: Please

Aman nar'mis: Let's see, this one isn't actually explicit, more a poetic reference that's culturally specific-ish, though easily translatable. So I'll break down the pieces for you. The verb ama means "to protect" or "to sheathe." When conjugating the verb, the suffix -n puts it in the first person. Nar is a second-person possessive pronoun. Mis is a blade or knife. Now put it all together and...who knew parts of speech could be so fun, right?

Ane ara salan sasha sulahn: You are my soul's only song

Eolasan: I know

Nu'da'din'sal'mah: Solas already told you: untranslatable.

Nuvenan ava nar'edhis: Fun fact: you can actually put most of this together yourself if you go back through the other translations. The only word I haven't ever translated is the last one, and, trust me, you'll be able to figure it out.