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The entire journey back from Adamant Owyn’s stomach was in knots. They had barely escaped the Fade and Stroud’s sacrifice remained heavy on her heart. The Grey Wardens were, at a time, heroes. They didn’t deserve exile, she felt, and giving them another chance to redeem themselves and be those heroes again was the right thing to do. Papae had always said that kindness was a rare virtue, and everyone will need forgiveness at some point in their lives, including her. He told her to make sure to extend it when it was possible. Owyn kept this close to her heart, as she did with all the lessons from her father.
But as she looked out at all the faces peering back at her while she made the announcement that the Grey Wardens would join the Inquisition, Solas’s was the one that left a pit in her chest. His brow was knit in disapproval as he let out an audible, exasperated sigh. Owyn would have preferred he had cast lightning on her. He may as well have.
She had hoped to catch him as soon as they got back to Skyhold, but the moment they arrived, he headed straight for the rotunda without sparing her a second glance. She then attempted to catch him in the halls, while he was speaking with an agent, but he excused himself quickly, leaving her panicked and heartbroken as the agent looked on perplexed. Finally, she tried to reach him at night, in the rotunda, only to find that he had already retired to his chambers.
Owyn hugged herself tightly while she made her way through the garden and up the stone stairs. Dread spread through her limbs and weighed down every step as she approached his door. She stood, frozen, in front of it, for what felt like hours, before tentatively lifting her fist to knock.
“You may enter,” Solas’s voice called from the other side.
She came into his chambers, quietly. He was standing over a desk that was up against the wall, reading text by candlelight. He didn’t look at her as she entered and Owyn fought to sound like she wasn’t going to cry, right then.
“Vhenan, please talk to me,” she said. Solas flipped a page and kept reading.
“What is there to say, Inquisitor,” he said, and she shrunk a little more. “You’ve made your decision. It is clear my opinion holds no weight.”
“You know that’s not true,” she said.
“Isn’t it? The Grey Wardens have caused death and destruction and nearly raised Corypheus’s demon army. I have told you my thoughts on the organization, and you decided to disregard my warnings, and recruit them.”
“It wasn’t any easy choice,” Owyn’s voice quivered. “But they were trying to save themselves and they were taken advantage of—”
“And that warrants their crimes be forgiven? Imagine if all of the murderers in Thedas were judged merely based on their intentions. How do you think that would fare?”
“They made a grave mistake,” she said. She was hugging herself tightly again and looking down at the wooden planks. “But everyone deserves a chance at redemption.”
Solas whirled around and rushed toward her, stopping within reach. A small rush of fear struck her gut, and then trickled down into a disturbing arousal between her legs. She swallowed hard and kept her eyes downcast.
“People deserve redemption. You would extend that to an entire organization? To those who have betrayed their own?” His voice was low and dangerous.
Owyn shifted under his gaze. Her heart was beating in her eardrums as she chose carefully what to say next.
“I... I would,” she whispered. “Because regardless of what you call them…they are still just people.”
He stood quietly long enough for Owyn to hesitantly look up at him from under her lashes. It was almost sinister, the way the flicker of the candles played with the shadows on his face. His hard gaze fell heavy on her, his grey eyes, now, pitch black, and mouth a hardened line. What was it in his expression? Disgust? Contempt? Hatred? Owyn finally shattered, tears pooling in her eyes, as she reached one hand to cup his cheek.
“Solas, ar lath ma, I’m sorry—” she began.
She gasped as he caught her by her wrist, hard, and charged forward, crushing her against the stone wall. Her legs went numb, and the only thing keeping her upright was his body pressed against hers. Solas’s face was so close she could taste his breath, her own quaking, despite herself. He searched her face, and when he saw how wide her pupils were, he snarled and plunged his hand down the front of her trousers, swiftly finding her soaked entrance with his fingers.
“You’re sorry?” He hissed and began deep, firm strokes, circling her clit before delving back into her core. Tongue and teeth sank into the skin on her neck, and Owyn cried out, immediately lost to him.
“Yes! Creators, yes,” she breathed, grasping at his shoulders, his back, anything she could, as she writhed under his touch.
“How sorry are you?” His voice was cruel and filled with disdain. Owyn felt his fingers quicken to a punishing pace, pushing deeper with every moan. She squirmed harder against him, but he held her, solidly in place.
“I- I’m s-sorry…I’m sorry, S-Solas,” she stammered. Her peak was building, tightening her muscles, and clouding her mind. “I- I’m so... s-so close, please—”
With that, Solas pulled away, as quickly as he had begun. Owyn sank to the floor, bereft and cold, the absence of his hands and body leaving her feeling hollow. Panting, she looked up at him from her knees, searching for an explanation, and he looked back. His expression was still cold, although mild amusement arched one eyebrow. Even in the dim light, she could see the definitive outline of his cock pressing hard against his trousers. Desperately, she reached for him, but he stepped back, right out of her grasp, and she fell again, to all fours.
“Tel abelas,” he crooned. “Not yet at least.”
He slowly turned and resumed his place at his desk, with the texts, and Owyn remained, wide eyed and trembling, as the realization of what his words meant dawned on her.
“Solas…” she choked. “Please…”
“I will meet you tomorrow night, same time, in your chambers,” Solas said, eyes fixed on the book. “You should get some rest, vhenan.”
Recognizing the finality in his voice, she stood on unsteady legs, and reluctantly turned to leave. She was already thinking of sinking her own fingers into her sopping wet core and bringing herself relief as she reached for the handle when Solas spoke again.
“And Owyn… if you give yourself release before I allow it,” he warned, “I will know.”
***
She couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned while fighting the throbbing need to grind against her pillow, because then he would know— a thought that drove her desire even deeper. There would be no rest and Owyn knew it was by Solas’s design.
“Are you feeling alright, Inquisitor?” Josephine inquired at the War Table, first thing in the morning, when Owyn showed up with puffy and dazed eyes.
“Ah, yes, I’m fine,” she said, shaking her head to clear it. She tried her hardest to listen to the morning itinerary through her fog, but her mind kept slipping away, anticipating nightfall.
Dorian had stopped her on her way to speak to Leliana.
“You look like something one of the cats dropped on the windowsill. It’s hard to look at,” he dropped his voice low, so his voice wouldn’t carry. “Are you and Solas still having a lovers’ quarrel about your decision?”
“No, not… exactly,” Owyn mumbled.
“’Not exactly’? What, are you two making some deliciously perverse game out of it?” Dorian teased, but when Owyn’s head shot up in surprise, her cheeks turning flushed pink, his eyes widened in realization.
“Oh,” he said, amusement building in his voice. “Oh, you dirty minx!”
“Dorian, please!” She felt his body shake with stifled laughter as she grabbed him by his arm and led him to the far corner near the window.
“Do spill all those filthy little details,” he continued. “What manner of game is it that has you looking this ragged?”
Owyn’s face was so constricted with embarrassment she couldn’t speak. She lightly slapped his arm and buried her face in her hands.
“Well, whatever game it is, it appears you are losing, my love,” he said, patting her shoulder. “My suggestion?” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Play a little dirty.”
***
Before approaching Solas, Owyn took deep breaths. She wanted to sound level, as though what she was about to ask was really just another Inquisition errand.
“Inquisitor,” he said, as she approached. His eyes squinted, the way they did when he was playing coy. “Sleep well?”
She swallowed and met his gaze. Don’t give anything away, was Dorian’s advice and she stiffened her back.
“There are some older texts that need cataloging, and new ones found recently that might be of use,” she said, impressed by how convincing she sounded. “When you have time, would you come to the study?”
Solas’s expression to one of mild surprise. His demeanor changed and his voice lost its cruel edge, “Of course. I will only be a moment.”
“Thank you,” she said, plainly, and quickly left. It was with great effort that she did not break into a run. Her heart was a constant buzz in her chest. She had deceived him. She had manipulated him. He had believed her, as he would never expect her to push back, to take control.
Owyn entered the dusty study, making sure the heavy door was properly closed, before stripping completely naked. She sat on the edge of the desk, splaying her legs so her sex, already slick with the thrill, was on display. She leaned back on her elbows and waited.
Little time had passed when she heard stirring and the shuffling of papers behind the door. The butterflies in her stomach were unbearable, as she heard the latch click and the creak of it opening. Solas entered, unaware and shifting through the documents in his hand. Owyn was drunk on her excitement, so much so, that she had enough nerve to clear her throat, expectantly.
“Inquisitor, I was just—” he lifted his head to speak, but the words died on his lips.
He stared, astonished, before her plan finally dawned on him. Ice could have formed around the bookcases, the way his expression changed into something terrifying Owyn had not seen before. Chest heaving, she kept her eyes locked on his, in an unprecedented show of defiance, and suppressed an aroused whimper.
Solas turned to close the door. The “thuck” of the lock shifting closed echoed.
“This,” he said with his back still turned, “was ill-advised, vhenan.”
Owyn was shivering now. Her voice betrayed her as she dared to press a little further.
“In what way, vhenan?” She asked with mock innocence.
His head turned, and from his profile, Owyn could see his eyes were, again, black as onyx. As he walked toward her, unsettling slow, she tried to maintain eye contact, but faltered as he got closer. Soon he was hovering over her, arching his body over hers, and Owyn caved. She laid her head back on the desk and Solas placed a hand on either side of it. He searched her face from above and chuckled, dark, and low.
“I suspected you weren’t actually sorry,” he said, with a wry smile on his lips. “But I told you, I would teach you to be, didn’t I?”
He lowered his head and licked her bottom lip, before lightly dragging it with his teeth. With a hand firmly pressed over her breast, he sank, until he faced her sex and Owyn felt the warmth of his breath. Solas rolled her nipple between his index finger and thumb, sending a tingle of pleasure through her, and she mewled.
“I do hope this was worth it for you,” he said, and dragged his tongue through her folds. She cried out and bucked, but his arm stretched across her body held her in place, as he began her exquisite torture. She felt the heat and slickness of his mouth on every nerve as he devoured her, orchestrating her body and moans with precision. When his face was coated with her pleasure, Solas plunged two fingers inside and she began to beg.
“Creators, gods, Solas, please!”
She felt him laugh against her.
“Would you like for me to give you release, vhenan?” he said.
She nodded, furiously, eyes cinched shut.
“You’ll have to speak up.”
“Yes!” Owyn blurted. “Please, please, I need it, I need you--”
It was a mistake to let him know how desperate she was, she learned too late. As soon as he heard those words, he slowly slid his fingers out and brought them to her mouth. She opened obediently and tasted herself, peering up at him with pleading eyes. He tilted his head, the same wry smile from before on his lips.
Owyn’s heart sank.
“I’m afraid your little display has cost you,” he said. She fumbled to sit up, to grab him and not let go until he relented, but he pushed her back down. As Owyn’s breath grew panicked, he lightly ran his fingertips over her cheek, stopping to lift her chin. “I will see you in your chambers tonight. And I would like for you to be naked when I arrive, as well.”
He turned to leave, and Owyn stayed sprawled on the desk, sobbing, until she heard his footsteps fade away.
***
Holding her knees tight to her chest, Owyn watched the fire in her hearth from her bed. After the initial shock from that afternoon, she had been able to feel nothing but the relentless throb between her legs and utter defeat. Confining herself to her chambers was the only thing she could do. Naked, as was commanded of her, she wondered how much more punishment she could take before her mind snapped in half.
She was sorry. Not for recruiting the Wardens, as she knew in her heart that was the right thing to do. She was sorry that Solas felt betrayed, that she had hurt him and there was no way around it. Because of this, she had resigned herself to believe that she deserved his cruelty, and to such a degree. If she would not change her mind, this was the way to pay penance. He could do what he wished, and she would just have to endure.
Owyn perked up when she heard her chamber door open. She did not move from her place, however, and watched in silence as Solas made his way up the stairs and to her bedside.
His brow was knit in distress. His eyes scanned her before he extended his arms.
“Come here,” he croaked.
In an instant, she was held tightly against him, as one hand gripped fistfuls of her hair, and the other her ass. He pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, the pained expression deepening. Her heart cracked, as she knew, somehow, she was the cause.
“Solas, ir abelas, vhenan. I am so sorry,” she whispered, and brought a gentle knuckle to his cheek. For a brief moment, he leaned into her touch, and Owyn saw his tenderness return and the frost in his countenance thaw. “Melavadin unnuvenan nua na.”
Solas looked at her through half lidded eyes, and the shadows on his face returned. He gripped her tighter and crushed his mouth against hers, extracting a whimper from her throat.
“Is that so?” He said, when he roughly pulled from her. She nodded, bracing herself for what was next.
Keeping hold of the back of her head, he undid the laces on the front of his trousers and pulled his pulsing cock from the oppressive material. He pumped himself a few times, but never broke his petrifying gaze.
“Show me,” he commanded.
Owyn obediently bowed her head, still guided by his grasp, and adjusted so she was on all fours, before taking the tip of him between her plump lips. She swirled her tongue around, tasting the first drops of his arousal, and moaned. Just being used for his pleasure made her throb and after a few shallow strokes, she took him entirely into her mouth, sliding down his length in one swift motion. Solas dropped his head back and grunted, taking her hair in both his hands, and thrusted his hips. The obscene sound of Owyn slurping and gagging on him drove his pace faster and rougher, and he watched with perverse satisfaction as tears streamed steadily down her cheeks. She grabbed hold of his thighs and dug her nails in to stay upright, heightening his ecstasy, and with a few more brutal thrusts, he pressed into the back of her throat and spilled his seed, crying out as he did.
Solas held her head on himself, for a moment, while he drifted down from his climax, until he felt her flail against him. He pulled her backwards, and she gasped, loudly, gulping the air like a fish out of water.
“Now,” he said. “I suppose you want your release?”
Owyn weakly nodded, panting and rigid in his hold. He hummed in dissatisfaction and placed two of his fingers at her swollen lips.
“Open,” he ordered, and feebly, she did, coating his digits in her saliva, before he pressed them into her core. They slipped inside her with absolutely no resistance, and she whimpered, pitifully as he slid them in and out at an excruciatingly slow rhythm.
“Tell me,” he said, studying her close. “If I don’t give you relief now, or say, tomorrow—would you still trust me?”
Owyn winced.
“Yes,” she rasped.
“And if I persist? If I keep tormenting you this way, and never let you come again,” he massaged her clit with his thumb and a deep moan escaped her. “You would have me by your side, even then?”
“Yes,” she panted, grinding her hips against his hand. Solas sneered and pressed harder, repeating the movements until he felt her body started to tense with pleasure. Once more, at the cusp of her climax, he released her, and Owyn collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Please,” she wept. “Solas, please.”
“And now, ma lath? After all of my cruelty, my disregard for your suffering,” he knelt to meet her at eye level. “You think I have earned your forgiveness?”
“Yes,” her voice wasn’t more than whisper.
“Why?”
Despite her trembling limbs, Owyn managed to gather herself on her forearms and meet his gaze, earnestly.
“A-ar isalan na,” she said. “Daran iras daras…sule’din.” She sank her brow to the mattress and waited, helplessly, for the next barrage of punishment.
There was a pregnant pause. Then the sounds of clothes shifting. Owyn said a silent prayer to the Creators and flinched when she felt Solas’s gentle hands touch her shoulders. Gingerly, he turned her to her back, and brushed her sweat soaked hair from her cheeks.
He’s back, Owyn thought. Thank the Gods, I have him back.
Solas sat naked, and beautiful, in the warm light of the fire. Adoration danced with sadness across his features as he crawled up her body to kiss her tenderly on her quivering lips.
“Ar’na?” He asked.
“Ar’na, uth,” Owyn replied.
He ran his hands over the curves of her waist and down the front of her thighs. It was a salve on a burn, and a new bout of sobs made her chest heave.
“Tell me what you need from me, vhenan,” he said, nuzzling the crook of her neck. Her breath shuddered.
“Pala em,” Owyn panted. “Isalan ma gara suin em.”
She felt his lips curve against her skin at her sudden crudeness.
“Ma nuvenin, da’len,” he said and took her hands in his above her head. He kissed her again, coaxing her mouth open with his tongue, before sliding into her to the hilt with one thrust.
They moaned in tandem, and Owyn melted into the sheets, spreading her thighs wide, letting him sink into her as deep as it would allow. She was lost in him, in the sounds of his ragged breaths, and the world-shattering sensation of his cock, slick with her desire, stretching and filling her from the inside. All of her anticipation and ache from before came to a head, and it was only with a few pumps that she locked her legs around his waist and came apart at the seams, arching her back and wailing blaspheme to the shem’s Maker.
She heard a self-satisfied chuckle once she fell limp from the come down.
“Your tongue is so filthy,” Solas said, and shifted so her legs were on each of his shoulder. “For someone so sweet.”
He drove into her, pressing her back against the headboard with every deliberate thrust. Owyn whined underneath him, dug her nails into his shoulder blades, and wished there was a way to just merge with him, and make him home in more than the figurative sense. She wanted him whole, in the way he had her, wanted to breath the air he breathed, and keep him in her core, as he was, where he belonged. He worked his hips at a steady pace, taking her with him to his peak before their movement grew fast and erratic.
“Ma gara suen em,” she repeated, a whisper in his ear.
Solas plummeted, sank himself into her depth, and with a guttural cry, climaxed inside her, as he was told. Owyn followed, feeling the warmth, and pulsing of his length inside her, and keened, locking her legs around his neck, until the shuddering of his body stopped, and they both fell to the mattress, spent.
She laid her head upon him and listened to the thrum of his heart through his rising and falling chest. They laid in silence for a while, basking in the afterglow. The cool mountain air breezed through the balcony window and mixed with the smell of their sex. Owyn thought it oddly comforting.
“I am sorry,” She finally said, returning from her daze. “But only because it hurt you—”
“Hush,” Solas interrupted, playing with strands of her hair between his fingers. “You had to decide, in haste. Just because it was not a decision that I, myself, would have made,” he paused, and pressed a chaste kiss to her sweaty brow, “doesn’t mean you should be disparaged for it.”
“What if I want to be disparaged?” She asked, momentarily forgetting the agony of the previous hours in her post-orgasm bliss. Solas laughed.
“There are easier ways to ask, vhenan,” he said, stroking her skin. “For now, I only want you to know that you have me. Unequivocally, until the very end.”
Owyn’s heart nearly burst.
“Ar lath ma,” she muttered, as her eyes fluttered closed, and she drifted off to sleep against his flushed skin.
“Ar lath ma, Owyn,” he said, and watched her for a time, before joining her in the Fade.