There was a time when Felassan would toss his arm around Solas' shoulders without hesitation, flick his ears when he was taking himself too seriously, or recline and prop his feet on Solas' knees. He's a habitual toucher, an enthusiastic hugger, a friendly forehead-kisser. So the fact that Solas' reaction spurs Felassan into taking tight hold of his hand rather than only his wrist is really still quite restrained of him.

"She could have," he says.

The power Solas took was power she had. There is more than one story of the Witches of the Wilds becoming dragons. Surely she could have crushed him beneath a heavy claw. Even more surely, she could have fled, if she wanted to. Even Felassan could have done that.

He's not sorry that she's dead, again. But he is sorry for something. He's sorry —

"I'm sorry that you felt so cornered, falon."