Guess where the translations are?

Mathematics and Magic

I sighed. It was far too much to hope Solas wouldn't have noticed my unhappiness, especially when I had traded on my own sanity to be here at all.

"Only...sometimes," I half-conceded, and then bristled at the compassion on his face. "And it isn't at all the same as it was with my clan. I don't spend all my time pining after you or wishing I had both arms and could return to shooting arrows at things that need to cease moving."

"Ir abelas. I never meant to imply that. As Inquisitor, naturally you have many subjects to occupy your attention." He held out his arm, inviting me back into his embrace. I didn't immediately accept, but after a moment decided that the personal reason he had offered for not soliciting my help was at least a coherent one. More than that, actually - it finally closed the disconnect between words and compliments he threw at me, and the behavior I could previously only explain with some level of indifference or distrust.

After a moment, I moved closer and cautiously laid my head on his shoulder. "I wasn't speaking of my duties as Inquisitor," I admitted once I had made myself comfortable. "Those are…" I sighed. "I believe I mentioned the parading? As Leliana's Right Hand, there are issues I take care of at her behest - and they are real issues - but they are also - " I almost said "designed to mask the movement of her Left Hand" before I remembered whom I spoke to. "They are also somewhat besides the point, if the world is ending."

"Then what were you referring to?" Solas asked.

"Do you remember when you told me I would make a good philosopher?" I asked, glad he couldn't see my blush.

He paused a moment. "I do. I ought to. It was in your memory of our discussion of Koslun, though I am surprised if I only said it then, and never again. Certainly I thought it often enough."

"I think you only said it that once," I told him, "and I didn't put much stock in it, but I had reason to remember it several years ago - Dorian decided to fill out Skyhold's library with some Tevinter works. He was teasing, mostly. Half of them were in Tevene, which only he reads, and half of the rest were romances and had nothing to do with anything. Those were a jab at Cassandra, of course. One, though, was a translation of On Logic, by an ancient Tevinter philosopher Lucius Annaeus Rufus. Perhaps because of your comment, it...caught my eye. So I read it."

"And now you are a philosopher?" Solas guessed, sounding extremely pleased by the idea.

"Not...that. Or not precisely," I told him, feeling myself blush again. "Rufus's main concern was propositional logic, which I found elegant and straightforward. Looking into it further, I found a series of essays from several professors at the University of Orlais on a discipline they are currently developing, which they call 'algebraic logic.' Though in many ways related, it is much more refined and abstract. In order to better understand what they were writing about, I acquired materials and - to gloss over several weeks of work - taught myself algebra."

"As one does," Solas said, his voice warm with amusement and affection.

"After that, I devoured their essays, and when I ran out of material, I wrote to Augustus Peano, the most prolific of the writers. We struck up a correspondence, but he noticed my interest kept tending toward the mathematics side of his discipline. Eventually, he introduced me to a student of mathematics who was only admitted to the university a handful of years ago - the first elf ever to gain a position there - but who is already upending the field, developing an entirely new branch called infinitesimal calculus. It's...a lot of things, but one of the most practical uses is the ability to find a function's rate of change - either on average or at any particular point along its graph."

"While I am familiar with basic algebra," Solas told me, "mathematics never interested me as much as magic, and so I never pursued it further. Remind me what sets a function apart from other types of equations?"

"In a function, the relationship between two sets is such that each element of the first set is associated with exactly one element from the second set," I explained, and then, fearing my explanation was too technical, added: "It's important in describing a lot of natural phenomena, like movement. If I walked from here to the balcony, my position in the room would be a function of time."

"Ah, yes, of course - I did know that, only I had forgotten," he said. "What use is finding a function's rate of change?"

"Well, returning to walking across the room - if you could derive the change in my position with respect to time, you would have my velocity - how fast I was moving across the room. Once you know the velocity, you can derive acceleration. And if my speed were governed by natural laws instead of my own will - if I were, say, falling from the balcony - you could predict precisely how fast I would be moving when I hit the ground, provided you knew how high my balcony is, and had an estimate for the drag from the air. Which - we admittedly don't yet. Still - it's the prediction aspect that is shaping up to be incredibly useful. I even interested Gaspard de Chalons in Lennan's work by showing him some formulae on the trajectories of projectiles from a trebuchet." I bit my lip but couldn't keep the smile from stretching my face. "I worked most of those out myself, though Lennan checked my calculations. When I get back to Val Royeaux, Gaspard has promised me some catapults to see how precise my predictions can be. Lennan even almost promised he would come to watch, and of course he wants all the results after. He hopes the difference between my expectations and the results may shed some light on the problem of resistance from the air."

Solas didn't say anything, and so after a moment I looked up to find him watching me with an expression composed of a complicated mingling of emotions - admiration foremost, but regret and relief were also identifiable. He bent and kissed me lightly. "You are brilliant in so many varied directions - which I always knew, and yet you astonish me each time you turn that incredible mind to some new course of study."

I blushed. "Ma serannas - y tel'ame. I have just enough understanding to provide another set of eyes to look for mistakes in Lennan's work, and to ask questions that are occasionally of some use. He is brilliant, I am merely - "

"Contributing to the development of the most advanced mathematics the world has to offer, while also acting as the Divine's Right Hand and maintaining your ties to the various courts of Thedas," Solas finished for me. "And by night - evading the demon I unwittingly unleashed on you, while pursuing me." He shook his head.

"That - isn't entirely untrue," I acknowledged, "but it also isn't of that much use. No matter how thrilled Gaspard is by the thought of using equations to calibrate his trebuchets rather than wasting time and effort with test-shots - still, trebuchets are not going to be of much use against the greatest threat currently facing the world. You." I sighed. "You're right - I do value wisdom and knowledge for their own sakes, but I also value pragmatism. Not doing anything of much practical use leaves me restless."

He ran his finger along my jaw, regret and relief coming to the forefront of his expression as he wrapped his other arm a little more tightly around me. "I feared I had robbed you of the ability to smile as I just saw you smile - and I am glad beyond words it isn't so." He bent and kissed me again, and then took a deep breath. "Perhaps an associate, another elf, who shares your intellectual pursuits will also, in time, provide you with - a companion."

I quirked an eyebrow to let him know he wasn't fooling me. "Are you fishing to find out if there is any attraction between me and Lennan?"

"No," Solas answered, but his ears were red.

"I am your mate, dahn'direlan, and I am not the one courting forgetfulness through madness," I reminded him.

"Bee...puncher?" he asked, tripped up by the insult.

"It's Dalish," I informed him, but then added: "Apparently." Since I hadn't made a comprehensive study of Elven, I couldn't know which parts were older reconstructions and which parts had entered use more recently, as the language evolved organically. "You go about doing things in the most difficult, dangerous, and sometimes foolish way possible, so it fits." I weighed whether to tell him that Lennan seemed entirely uninterested in knowing me at all beyond pages filled with equations - we had never even met face-to-face. From hints Augustus had dropped, I gathered that, in general, Lennan found numbers much more palatable than people.

I had just decided Solas didn't deserve to be enlightened, when he said: "Ara dirth de del'rajane assan. My intention - my primary intention - wasn't seeking reassurance, but rather to reassure you that I would like you to be happy, even if that means one day putting away your love for me when you find you love another."

"I know you want me to be happy," I told him, relenting a little. "And I appreciate the thought, but - Solas, we both know you don't actually want my happiness that way. Not a man of moderate temper or passions, remember? It's a generous lie, but it's still a lie. If I ever find someone else, it will be long, long past the point where you are capable of jealousy - and by that point, I don't think I will feel the need for your permission or approval. Don't torture yourself wondering if any specific man will be the one. The answer is: probably not, and I'm not thinking of that now anyway."

"It isn't entirely a lie," he protested. "I am merely conflicted. And - I suppose I wish I were able to picture what your future will look like, because somehow it makes the possibility of you having one seem more real."

I could hardly promise him I would have a future when he was the one currently most likely to end it. But it did remind me of something I ought to ask: "I nearly forgot. I can't believe I nearly forgot. Solas...the Anchor. When you took my hand, you implied it was a temporary measure for saving my life, and Dorian recently told me that its energy is still visible in my aura - strong enough for my presence to affect the Veil. Do I...still possess the Anchor?"

He studied me for a long moment. "Why do you wish to know?" he asked at last, his tone guarded.

"Because it almost killed me before?" I hadn't thought I would need to state the obvious. "Just because I take risks sometimes - or a lot - " I corrected myself before he could comment, "doesn't mean I don't want to know when ancient sorcery is going to devour me from within."

A flicker of remorse crossed his face, but he continued to regard me sternly. "Before I tell you this, promise me you will not attempt to reawaken it."

"I have absolutely no desire to reawaken it," I assured him, "though you also just told me it would be possible to reawaken it," I added.

"Reawaken was, perhaps, the wrong term," he told me. "No one currently living, I think, has the skill to...reforge the Anchor, let us say. However, such magic has its own sort of life and given the right circumstances it could - regenerate." He let out a breath. "I lost the ability to dismantle it completely when my orb was destroyed. Ir abelas."

"What kinds of circumstances?" I asked, and he gave me another sharp look. "Solas, I am asking so I can avoid those circumstances, not so I can go looking for them. The Anchor would not be an especially quick or comfortable way to die, and I would prefer it not reawaken, or regenerate, or whatever word you prefer to use to describe it."

"I would avoid handling raw lyrium, if I were you," he began grudgingly.

"Equally good advice for all times and circumstances, unless one happens to be a dwarf," I pointed out, and in spite of his skepticism, he couldn't contain one small snort of laughter.

"Extended periods of time physically in the Fade are...inadvisable," he continued.

"That would have been good to know before I came," I retorted.

"Extended," he repeated for emphasis. "Years. Months. Perhaps weeks."

"Stay physically outside of the Fade: understood," I said, and then felt my smile slip away. "Only - when you drop the Veil…"

He took my hand and stroked my fingers, not meeting my eyes. "That is the question, is it not? It may not be as dire as you think," he went on quickly. "All elves may still retain the capacity to become mages. If your gift is awakened by continual exposure to the Fade, you will likely have better control over the Anchor. It will also be more stable without the Veil disrupting it. There is a very good chance it - will at least not kill you as quickly."

"You say that - do you really believe that is reassuring?" I demanded, sitting upright.

"You must understand, ma vhenan," he said, still not looking me in the eye, his long, graceful fingers still toying with mine, "the power of the orbs was meant for the greatest mages ever born to our people. I - cannot even say for certain how the Anchor did not devour you outright, the very moment it bound itself to your hand. That you are an elf likely helped, but - what other elements of who and what you are contributed, I don't know."

"And...you thought I might try to reawaken this - why?" I prodded him.

He finally raised his eyes, but not to meet mine. Instead they found the ceiling. "Because I am a fool who habitually reveals far too much to you," he sighed. "The Anchor's power over the Veil is almost - incidental. But you cannot use its true power safely, and I beg you not to try."

Though admittedly vague, this was information Dorian, Vivienne, and Fiona all needed - but I certainly wouldn't be volunteering to experiment with exactly what the Anchor could do, or trying to learn why Solas still feared it. I already knew all too well of one thing it could do: kill me. "I doubt whatever can be done with it is worth dying for," I told him. Which wasn't to say my doubts couldn't be overcome with enough evidence, but I would need far more information than we currently had before putting my own life on the line in the hope that I could do something of use against him.

He finally looked at me and gave a small nod of acknowledgment. "I would never have predicted you would survive the Anchor for any length of time, arasha. That circumstance gives me reason to hope that I underestimate you - that if the Anchor reawakens after the Veil has fallen, you will master it."

"I - suppose that is something," I replied a little grudgingly. "But I had a right to know this, and you didn't tell me."

His eyes widened slightly, as though the thought had never occurred to him, and then his brows drew together. "I see it differently," he said. "After the Veil falls, the Anchor will either regenerate or it won't, and you have no control over it either way. Before the Veil falls, it is vital that you not awaken it." He paused and grimaced slightly. "Granted, I should perhaps have taken into consideration your penchant for finding your way into the Fade. But communication between us is never a good idea, and ascertaining - to a reasonable degree, at least - your willingness to grasp at any potential weapon you might wield has already required more communication than I was previously willing to engage in."

"And yet, here we are," I retorted, turning over his defense thoughtfully. Any weapon you might wield - that was an interesting phrase. Whatever else was true, gambling with my own sanity had - this time - amply repaid me with rewards I couldn't have dreamt of.

It was also true that he told me far too much.

"You forced my hand," he reminded me.

"I'm not sorry," I said.

"Did I say you ought to be?" he replied mildly. "I am - but I'm equally grateful. You deserve to leave on your own terms."

"And yet you were going to force me through that rift," I reminded him, turning my head to bite his shoulder. Gently. Mostly.

"Ir abelas," he replied, flinching slightly. "Ar dea del. I - vya gelem."

"You might consider not lying," I offered. "To me, at any rate. It makes me angry, and apparently when I'm angry, I seduce you." I lifted my face and he obligingly kissed me, smiling.

"You may need to reconsider how you have positioned your incentives," he murmured, lips brushing mine.

"Fair point," I acknowledged in a whisper.

He kissed me in earnest, then, his tongue sliding across mine, and though it had only been an hour, or perhaps less, since our last round, heat still shot through me. I ran my hand across his firmly-muscled shoulder appreciatively, and then down his chest - but his hand caught mine before it could descend lower. "Melena," he said, his voice no more than a rumble. "Nuvenan dava ma samelana i've - " he exhaled slowly, "i've laiman garahnen arulin." His other hand cupped my face, making sure I understood garahnen arulin - "everything important" - primarily meant me.

"Vin, avy nera ra," I agreed.

"Ma serannas," he said, smiling, before giving me another brief kiss.

"Aren't those supposed to be my sentiments?" I teased him.

He arched an eyebrow. "Not yet - you don't know that I am any good. But they will be soon."

He wasn't wrong, though it took a little longer to get there than anything else we had done up to that point. His vantage wasn't one from which he could read my expressions with the same attentiveness that had earlier made me feel almost that he could read my mind. There was some trial and error, but he clearly knew what to try, and there were only a few minor errors before we both discovered what I liked. A lot. Loudly and...repeatedly.

When he finally found his way back up to me and leaned in to whisper, "Isalan i'hima sa na," in my ear, I still didn't feel capable of words, and only nodded my approval.

He was rougher than he had been previously, his mouth leaving marks on my shoulders and the tops of my breasts. Likely I ought to have stopped him - I had a ball to attend in a few days - but I couldn't bring myself to care. Or, rather, my only care was regret - regret that the bites and small bruises he left would eventually fade, leaving behind no proof any of this had ever happened.

Instead I encouraged him. I was likely too dutiful to attend a ball with visible marks from the Dread Wolf's mouth imprinted on my person, but that was what healers were for - and there was always a chance my dress would cover some of them. For now, I would enjoy the lingering reminder that, though Solas refused to lay claim to me, at least he regretted it almost as desperately as I could wish.

Ma serannas - y tel'ame: Thank you - but I'm not

Ara dirth de del'rajane assan: "My speech was a misdirected arrow," ie "that came out wrong" or "I shouldn't have said that"

Ar dea del. I - vya gelem: I was wrong. Also - I was panicking.

Melena: Wait

Nuvenan dava ma samelana i've - i've laiman garahnen arulin: Good but explicit communication and then - "before I give up/lose everything important/private/personal"

Vin, avy nera ra: Yes, I would like that

Isalan i'hima sa na: "I need to become one with you" - technically it's a non-explicit euphemism, right? I spent five minutes deciding whether to translate that. Wow am I tired.