"I have done nothing but test the limits of that sentiment," Solas reminds her, because he knows better. It is impossible not to know better, when all the reminder he needs is cupped close against his cheek, wood smooth and cool at the corner of his lip.

Her confidence in him has maimed her, has nearly broken them both. And world is...

She kisses him, gentle as a mother, and it is a balm against everything, and an absolution in and of itself. He closes his eyes and lets her be right, of only superficially. What argument can he make? He can no more deny her than to cause the sun to run backwards. Would only that could.

"Ar lath ma," He replies, softly, "Perhaps we can, for a time."

Lesser chains than such a promise have secured the service of greater dogs than he, after all. The gods of this place understood what they were doing, to bring her here with him, to strip him bare, and... and he would comply. With them, with her, with the necessity of the situation. What else was there to do?

"Ar emma lath, ma halani dirthara atishan."