CW: non-explicit oral sex, light domination.

Sorry for the long break - I was popular last week and we also went many more places than usual.

Understanding

Solas was waiting for me when I woke up in the Warden-Commander's room, hastily cleared of Clarel's personal effects and given to me over my objections - it should have belonged to Stroud, if anyone were to claim it so soon after Clarel's death. Leliana, Cullen, Vivienne, and even Stroud himself, all insisted that not taking it would undermine my status with the Wardens, and I had acquiesced, too tired to continue the argument.

"Good morning, Solas," I sighed into my pillow. He was still angry, though calm enough now to speak of it. Probably.

"Late afternoon, in actuality - you slept the better part of a day," he told me briskly from the chair he had taken on the side of the room opposite my bed.

"Oh," I said. "I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"I also slept the better part of a day," he told me, his tone softening almost imperceptibly. "I haven't been waiting long. And I brought you a meal."

"Ma serannas," I said, rising.

"Inana - " he began as I fumbled my way to the table that served as the room's only flat surface for either writing or eating.

"I'm sorry I tried to go after Hawke," I apologized immediately, willing to at least own up to the part that truly had been a mistake and hoping it would make him a little more tolerant when we disagreed about the Wardens. "I was reckless."

He sighed, half in relief, half in exasperation. "And what if I hadn't been there to read your intentions and stop you?" he asked.

I shuddered. "I would have died."

"And very possibly doomed the entire world," he added, his voice sharp with disapproval.

"The Breach is closed," I reminded him. "Someone else could take over and stand against Corypheus. The Anchor is valuable , but it isn't essential anymore. I'm just as expendable as anyone."

"You don't know that," he told me coldly. "And that wasn't the way I meant it. Of course the world is less for losing Hawke - but it will go on."

" Is that the way you meant it?" I demanded.

"Of course," he replied, and though it wasn't a lie, there was an uneasiness beneath his words that made me think he wasn't quite certain himself.

"And do you know that the Anchor remains essential in stopping Corypheus?" I continued probing.

His silence was probably answer enough.

I took a bite of my breakfast, swallowing down my frustration along with it. "You can't blame me for not acting on information you don't give me, Solas," I told him, thinking my voice remained admirably level considering how infuriatingly opaque he insisted on being.

"Even when you know it exists?" he snapped.

And now we were speaking of the Wardens. "I don't know it exists," I replied. "I know you believe it exists."

"And yet you claimed to trust me."

I snorted a disbelieving laugh. "I trust you with my heart and I trust that your intentions - however carefully you obscure them - are good. That's different from making incredibly consequential decisions on information you won't give me - including information about yourself that might tell me whether you are an authority on the matters you want to offer advice on." I took a breath. "If our positions were reversed, emma lath , would you trust me that way?"

Regret echoed across our bond, and I could almost feel his painful blush burning my own skin. For a long moment, I thought he would let his feelings be the answer, but then he said: "No. I doubt I would even trust you as much as you trust me."

"Give me something," I entreated him. "I can change my mind about the Wardens - you just have to convince me."

He wanted to - I could tell how desperately he wanted to - but he remained silent.

I heaved a sigh. "Well then, here's something that you perhaps haven't thought of: if I were to banish the Wardens from southern Thedas, their most important ally going forward would be Tevinter. None of us would be in any position to oversee or question what they did at Tevinter's behest. And we don't know to what extent the magisterium is controlled by the Venatori."

"I did consider that," Solas said slowly, "but stripped of the means to recruit extensively - you judge they could still pose a threat?"

"Their numbers in Orlais have been cut sharply, and there were never many Wardens in Ferelden, but I'm sure there are still plenty scattered throughout Nevarra, the Free Marches, Antiva, Rivain, the Anderfels, the Deep Roads, and, of course, Tevinter itself. Considering how vast a territory that is, I imagine there are more than Clarel sought to use in her ritual here - and look how much damage that did, even interrupted."

I couldn't see him, but I felt his grudging agreement - the emotional equivalent of a reluctant nod - and sighed. "The greatest problem with the Wardens, as far as I can see, is that they are considered so necessary that they have no oversight at all. All of Thedas must simply trust that they have its best interests at heart - and they do, but what they interpret as 'best interests' is exceedingly narrow. Important, but narrow. What they need is to be reorganized, to be made accountable to someone , though, at the same time, they need to be able to act when the situation calls for it without politics intruding." I rubbed my forehead and only then remembered I had been eating and took another bite. "At present, the Inquisition can serve that purpose. Going forward…I don't know. We can't oversee them forever. We're as subject to corruption as anyone, and will no doubt have our own problems with oversight in the future."

"Ane sileal'el o undhruan nerelin, ma vhenan," he told me after a short silence spent turning over my words with a growing admiration that made me blush and hide my face by bending over my breakfast.

"I spent much of my childhood being trained to oversee a clan," I reminded him. "Keepers and clans have some of the same problems. Each clan - fortunately or unfortunately - balances and addresses them differently. A weakness, because there's no codified way to oust a bad Keeper, or discipline an unruly clan, and yet also a strength, because we're free to change if something isn't working, or if one clan observes how badly it can all go wrong in another clan." I huffed. "I don't have any answers, Solas."

"Therein lies the root of your wisdom, shesil'lan. It's difficult for those with power to recall that they cannot possess all the answers," he told me.

"That seems to be the only thing I can recall," I muttered into my bowl of porridge.

I heard him get up from his chair and then followed his aura as he crossed the room silently to bend over me, taking my chin in his hand and tilting my face towards his. " Ir abelas . I should have asked your motives prior to concluding your choice was the consequence of inexperience or of too much credulity. They aren't the actions I'd have taken, but it comforts me to know that you see a part of the threat inherent in the Grey Wardens."

A part of the threat?

"I'm still exceedingly disturbed by your impetuous and irresponsible attempt to follow Hawke," he added more severely.

"Eolasan," I said, looking away. "Ir'el abelas."

"How am I to convince you to stop underestimating your importance?" he asked, his fingers sliding into my hair and giving my head a small, frustrated shake. "How am I to trust you won't throw your life away if I'm not there to stop you?"

What was I to say? I wasn't certain I could trust myself . When it came to the moment of crisis, I just wanted to protect everyone, especially those I cared for. No matter what it cost me.

Solas was genuinely upset with me, but one side of his mouth pulled into a smirk when my eyes filled with tears. He bent still closer, his hand in my hair forcing my head to tilt back even further, until I could feel his breath against my face. "Ah - are you very sorry, ara'lath ?"

I couldn't nod - he held me too tightly - so I managed to whisper, "Yes."

He leaned in again, until his breath feathered against my ear. The first stab of lust echoed between us, and I didn't even know which of us it had originated with. "And how do you intend to prove it to me, then?"

"Um," I gulped, not certain what he wanted me to say. "On - on my knees?" I offered as my thoughts managed to churn up a possibility I thought he might accept.

This time the lust definitely originated with him, but that wasn't to say it didn't easily wake my own desire. His tongue briefly traced the edge of my ear, making me shiver. "Very well," he said. His hand released me after giving my head one last rough shake. "Show me, Inquisitor." He stepped back and I slid from the chair to kneel on the floor.

I unlaced his breeches and eagerly took him in my mouth.

It occurred to me that I hadn't entirely understood the purpose of the games he wanted to play when he had tied me up before. He hadn't tried to explain anything from his own perspective, only presented the aspects he thought I might enjoy. Now, though, as he sank his hand in my hair and guided my head, forcing me to take him just a little deeper than was strictly comfortable for me, now I thought I understood.

There was a lot he didn't control, including me, the decisions I made as I led the Inquisition, and whether either of us lived or died. But here - with my cooperation, of course - he could control this. If I let him cause me a little discomfort, that made it real as well as a game.

Giving over that control, knowing it made all the things he couldn't control more bearable, felt good. It felt better than the brief moments of triggered gag reflex felt bad. Feeling his pleasure secondhand was also a good motivator, of course. The angry edge to his desire began to soften as I drove him higher, the hand in my hair slowly relaxing until it was more caress than command. After another moment, his free hand rose to brush my cheek. My head canted toward his touch, and I opened my eyes to look up at him, though of course he was much too tall for me to see anything beyond a vaguely man-shaped figure.

Even so, it was apparently the right thing to do. He gasped something in Elvish - maybe "perfect," though between the broken syllables and his accent I couldn't be sure - and suddenly, with very little build-up, he was spending himself in my mouth. His climax didn't trigger mine, but it did wash over me sweetly, leaving my body humming with desire. I kept going until the faintest hint of discomfort warned me to stop, and only then sat back on my heels, breathing hard.

He stumbled back a couple of steps in the direction of the bed and - I thought - sat down on its edge. "Enas amahn," he requested, and so I got up. It was rising that drew my attention to the pain in my knees. I winced, but I went to him anyway - and he sent a little healing energy through me as soon as our hands met.

"Ma serannas," I said, sitting down beside him. It was all I had time to say before his mouth brushed mine lightly - almost hesitantly.

"Ane son?" he asked softly, the breath he exhaled in speaking tickling my lips.

"Vin," I replied with a smile, "ame son'el. Lanastas em?" I thought I probably was forgiven, but I thought I should find out before making my next request.

Although I couldn't actually see the smirk on his lips, I could hear it in his voice: "Re ra arulin'sil av'ahn?"

I laughed as he drew me closer, until I was half in his lap, and then pressed a kiss of my own to his lips. "Does that mean you're not going to make me go down and face everyone still drowning in lust?" I asked hopefully.

He made a show of weighing his answer, but my position gave me an advantage in detecting his renewed - and growing - interest. Once I stripped off my shift, he stopped even pretending reluctance. It was fairly late in the evening before I had any attention to spare for my duties.

Ane sileal'el o undhruan nerelin, ma vhenan: You are wiser than I believed possible, my heart/my home

Shesil'lan: Clever one

Eolasan. Ir'el abelas: I know. I'm very sorry.

Enas amahn: "Come here," or maybe more accurately, "Come here?" It's not in the imperative form.

Ane son: Are you well?

Vin, ame son'el. Lanastas em?: Yes, I'm very well. Do you forgive me?

Re ra arulin'sil av'ahn?: Is that a serious question?