gentleman, is she rly your wife if you don't kill her once?

Without thinking, Mythal wrinkled her nose at his rather quick confirmation, slightly taken aback in a full display of annoyance.  It happened before she remembered that such things were beneath her, smoothing out her face.  It… stung, but she had asked for his honesty.  And he’d given it.  She tilted her head slightly then, her look turning quizzical.  Why was she attempting anything but transparency and honesty here with him?  He knew her.  He’d know that his answer would not be easy for her to stomach, knew that it would irritate her, and yet he’d done as she asked regardless.

Her displeasure was short-lived anyway as she welcomed his touch, his reverence, smiling at his smile for her.  She let this continue on for several heartbeats before a finger lifted, pressing to his lips.  Do not speak his name so easily.  He will hear.  Elgar’nan was nothing if not persistent.  I saw glimpses and fragments… does he walk Thedas once again?  She needed to know.  His presence meant that she would encounter him again, sooner rather than later.  His addled mind would fixate on how this beyond simple refusal now.  She’d insulted him in choosing her wolf and that would not stand.

The question though, caught her off guard.  Eyes narrowing, she sifted through her own memories, and those half-formed, nebulous ones of those that carried her with them while she was fragmented, while she slumbered.  There were faces, some clearer than others.  One in particular, with lines that shone in the distinct silvery-white of lyrium.  But there were no names, no context, nothing else that she could draw from.

I do not remember, she answered truthfully after a moment.  But I saw the scar.  A cruel, jagged thing for how small it was.  I remember feeling… cold.  Once again, her eyes narrowed.  Why do you ask this, Feredir?  Do they still live then?  Do they serve him?