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Summary
Elgar’nan stepped closer, two gentle fingers sliding under Solas’s chin to tilt his face up. “Is this disrespect, Dread Wolf?” he asked, voice deceptively soft. He was close, far too close, the power radiating off of him. Solas let himself be moved.
“Never, All-Father,” Solas said politely, face neutral. Elgar’nan had never been this close to him before, let alone touched him. Yet here he was as if he had been waiting.
“And yet it feels like disrespect.”
“It would hardly be appropriate, my lord, if I was to show you further obeisance than your lady wife. I am, after all, her creature.” Solas made to duck his head respectfully but Elgarn’nan’s hand still rested there, the smoothness of his nails pressed against Solas’s skin like a threat.
“You are that. She is far too permissive with you for my taste, too willing to turn a blind eye. Her prideful thing. You are very lucky she adores you.” The words, delivered quietly, carried the weight of a sword over his head. Solas held very still.