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

Her smile was soft, as soft as her eyes as they traced over the shape of his face.  He was right.  It was foolish to rush in when they were unprepared.  If she died again; worse, if she were somehow brought under Elgar’nan’s control… all would be lost.  She grieved.  She raged.  But Mythal knew Sadness and Anger.  They were age old companions that she carried with her. Solas though?  He was her choice, one that she carried as well.  One that she had refused to relinquish.  She had died for it.  And yet, she still had his heart.  Still carried with her even when she had been unmade.  Asleep.

She tilted her face to accept the kiss, marveling at the warmth of it, delighting in the way that his lips lingered there against her cheek.  Her look was amused.  So chaste, Feredir? she teased.  She remembered the instruction he… needed, too careful, too shy perhaps, to indulge without guidance.  She didn’t know, but her palm slid up to cup the cheek farthest away from her.  Holding him there, Mythal turned her face towards his, until their noses bumped together. His disbelief was still so fresh.

You are not dreaming, my love.  I am real.  I am here with you now.  Easing forward, she let her forehead come to a rest against his.  And this was the type of kiss I meant I wanted…  Her mouth, to his, for long, breathless moments.  Then, she eased away, just enough to speak.  Surely you have not forgotten?  I seem to recall that you were not so tentative in the time you spend with two others who held my shard.