Translations at the bottom.

Shared Memories

"Perhaps you will feel I ought to have asked, before viewing your memories," Solas said a little hesitantly as we sat down. "They were available to anyone, and it only occurred to me after that you wouldn't know how to place protections or restrictions - would be unable to do so, rather."

"I would have appreciated being asked, but I would rather you saw them than not," I told him. "Latha saw them," I made a face, "and even if it is dead now, I hate to think of a demon pretending to be you knowing more about my thoughts and feelings than you do. Do I want to know what you thought?"

His smile was faint, but also affectionate. "Likely, though I don't know that I can give a description of my thoughts that is both thorough and concise. It was…"

"Was what?" I prompted when he didn't seem inclined to go on.

"Many things," he said, smiling more broadly, but looking a little self-conscious. "Somehow both humbling and flattering. I was also reminded that you are one of the few people who has ever admired me without any particular awe involved."

"I was in awe of you at first," I told him, shaking my head. A lock of my hair came loose from my braid and I decided the time had come to do something with it. "Well - not at the very first, before I knew anything about you beyond the way my heart raced whenever you smiled. But after we had talked the first handful of times - I had reasons for awe. You were older-"

He laughed.

"I didn't know how much older," I reminded him, fingers combing through my hair as I untwisted it, "but you were clearly older and far more experienced. Knowledgeable. Wise. And you knew things I wanted to know, like how to read our language. So, yes, I was in awe of you for a while, but it wore off eventually. Then I just liked you, and loved you, and found you impossibly - infuriatingly - frustrating." I sighed, my hands pausing in their work. "Do you think you might answer a personal question, if I asked?"

"I might - I'll try." Then he indicated my hair. "May I do that?"

"If you like," I replied, surprised. I moved a little closer so he could reach me more easily, concentrating at the same time to summon a brush into my hand. I handed it to him. "This is the next step, if you want to do that, too."

"I would. Your hair is beautiful, and it smells pleasant, and - physical contact with you is never unwelcome," he said by way of explanation. "I didn't intend to distract you. What were you going to ask?"

"The ring you left me - the vows - why? Why that? Why not just tell me the truth then?" Asking, I suddenly wished I hadn't let him work on my braid. I wanted something to do with my hand. Instead of raking through my hair, my hand curled in on itself, knuckles white and nails biting into my skin.

"I was in haste, and still didn't know exactly what I intended to do or what would happen to me once it was done," he said quietly. "Telling you was a variable I had never even attempted to include in my calculations, and my calculations were already in utter disarray. As for what I did leave - I knew what I was to you, and I wanted you to know that you were just as vital to me. Or at least that you would be, in another world. I also needed you to know exactly how little I had to offer you." He paused as he finished untwisting my braid. I stared down at the nail marks in my skin - his reasons hadn't hurt as much as I expected. They hurt, but no more than things usually did with him. "You don't wear it anymore - the ring."

My laugh was incredulous. "Of course not. I wore it on my left hand."

He was watching me with raised eyebrows and slightly widened eyes when I turned to look at him. "You were wearing it - the day we last met."

"Of course. I rarely took it off," I replied.

He let out a breath. "Undelan ma," he apologized. "It was a ring, and yet I never even thought-"

I turned away. "It seemed fitting, after you wouldn't let me come with you. It already hurt to wear it. I don't know that I would have had the strength to stop - but it would have hurt even more after that. There are times I have been grateful I didn't have to make that choice."

"And times you have been angry I took even that small power of self-determination from you," he said, pulling the brush carefully through my hair.

"Yes," I acknowledged.

"Why?" he whispered. "Why do you persist in caring for me?"

"Because you are ma vhenan," I told him steadily. "I have no home other than you - anywhere you are feels like home, and anywhere you aren't never does. Don't." I added, turning to frown at him, already aware what he would say next. "I was drawn to you the moment you took my wrist to close that first rift, and I likely would have been drawn to you even before that had I not come upon you in the midst of battle, where things were too confused to immediately pick out participants." I turned to look at him. "I imagine, if you had kept your distance, I would have remained in awe of you - likely even come to worship you." He flinched at the word "worship." "Then I would have taken far too much of your advice and never learned to trust my own questions, reasoning, and instincts."

"That is not something you can know," he argued, and I could see he was thoroughly put off by my conclusions.

"Ma'lath, you aren't wrong when you observe we share a similar temperament, but where you see superiority in the fabric of my being, I merely see better circumstances and guidance," I told him. "In some ways our circumstances were undoubtedly similar - hailed as divine by half the world and utterly reviled by the other half. But there were differences. For one, I was surrounded by some of the best people in the world - including you. And because we are fairly similar, and because I was and am drawn to you, I was able to benefit from your experience in a way you never could. You have always helped bring out the best in me."

"You don't know the kinds of people I was surrounded by," he pointed out, stone-faced.

"I do, though, because I know how lonely you were, and how caught up in your own thoughts. If you had had a Cassandra, a Varric, a Leliana, a Josephine - you wouldn't have felt so alone," I replied.

For a moment he looked ready to argue, but then his shoulders sagged. "Perhaps, though I might simply have driven away such counsel."

"So might I, under other circumstances," I retorted, turning my back on him again. He took the hint and began running the brush through my hair. "Luckily, that wasn't my decision until well after all our working relationships were established, and after the foundations had been laid for my personal relationships with each of you." I smiled to myself. "After all - my first view of Cassandra involved her trying to execute me, and, even if it had been something marginally less antagonistic, she isn't the most reassuring figure upon first meeting."

Behind me, Solas laughed. Then he stopped arguing with me and let the subject drop. We both fell silent as he finished brushing my hair - which he probably did for longer than strictly necessary, but he seemed to be enjoying it. I certainly was.

"This isn't much of a conversation," I pointed out, turning to face him, when he finally put down the brush.

His ears were red, I noticed, and he offered me a brief smile before looking away. "Ir abelas - my mind was...elsewhere." He met my eyes again and tilted his head, a smile still pulling at one side of his mouth. "Do you think you might leave your hair loose for - a while?"

"All right," I shrugged. I wasn't planning any combat where it might get in the way. "I'm in no hurry to braid it one-handed. I ought to cut it now that Josephine spends most of her time in Antiva. She kept telling me not to before court fashions in Val Royeaux changed-"

"Don't," Solas interrupted, then laughed uncomfortably and quickly backtracked: "Or, do as you please - but it is beautiful, and I am glad Josephine talked you into keeping it long enough that I have had the chance to admire it." He moved on quickly before I could ask any more about the subject - such as why it seemed to embarrass him. "I noticed one of your memories was about Enansal."

"Yes!" I said. It didn't escape my notice that he had chosen a subject very likely to make me leave behind the previous topic - and he was calculating enough to have done it purposefully. "Do you still write him?"

"I fear not," Solas answered. "I - don't believe he knows who I am, and I wouldn't want to explain it to him. Either that or why he can no longer correspond with you. I understand he didn't speak to anyone for over a month after his clan declared for me."

I swallowed. "Does he think I abandoned him?"

"I - don't believe so," Solas said slowly, "though it isn't anything I have asked about. All the children of the clans are kept at various safe locations, and no written communication is allowed in or out. He is old enough, now, to understand that you don't know where he is or how to reach him."

"You know where he is?" I asked.

"I chose his refuge personally," Solas assured me. "A small favor I could do for you - though I never expected you to learn of it - and a salve for my own conscience."

"Ma serannas," I said without feeling. "It isn't enough and I hate you for making it necessary - but I know you can keep him safer than I ever could. Giras ma'seranna."

He nodded sympathetically, which wasn't the response I wanted - though the response I wanted was admittedly just the other side of impossible. Apparently. "Among other instructions and requests I have left in safe places, are directions specific to Enansal. If you survive the period of chaos following the destruction of the Veil, he will be sent to you, provided my remaining agents can locate you."

It was far too many ifs, but- "Ma serannas," I repeated with more sincerity, and then snorted a laugh. "I knew Latha was lying." Solas looked at me curiously. "It claimed you had stopped letting yourself care about Enansal."

"No. I am not at that point." Yet. The word hung, unspoken, between us.

"I'm not going to argue with you about this," I decided. "But don't think I have forgotten - or forgiven. I don't know that I will ever forgive you for doing this to him."

"Nor should you," Solas agreed. "Nor will I forgive myself - for this, or for many other crimes I have committed or will commit soon. Nevertheless."

I leaned in and bumped my forehead against his - not hard, but not too gently, either. "You are impossible."

"I know," he sighed. "As you have decided not to dwell on this grievance, perhaps you would like a happier topic?"

"All right," I shrugged, uncertain I was ready to move on in spite of my resolution not to indulge in the pointless frustration of trying to talk sense into him.

"The day we went ice skating - did you never wonder what compelled me to join you on the ice?" he asked.

In spite of everything, I found myself laughing. "That's a point for Latha," I told Solas. "It asked me the same thing - in almost the same words, even."

"Ah," he said, mildly nonplussed, "then-"

"I told it no and immediately ran away," I continued before he could move on. "Those are our memories - I would never want to view them through the eyes of a demon pretending to be you."

"Ah," he repeated more softly. "I confess - it hardly places me in the best light, but I had the opportunity to experience your memories, and so I will show you this one, if you would like to see it."

He offered his hand and I took it. "Of course I would."

Undelan na: I wronged you

Giras ma'seranna: "You own my gratitude" or "You have acquired my gratitude" - a very grudging "thank you"