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    Summary

    “Is that the full strength of your conviction?” Elgar'nan teased, grabbing both of Solas’s wrists with just one hand. His bronze-skinned muscles looked deliciously magnificent next to Solas’s black colour and skinny pale limbs, so Elgar’nan spelled his robes away with a thought. Naked flesh against cold armor—and him still the greatest force between the two. “Go on, keep trying. You might persuade me yet.”

    “You are such a child,” Solas snapped, flushed from exertion and entirely out of breath. He tried to squirm out of Elgar’nan’s grasp, bucking his hips ineffectually. “You cannot solve all your problems through sheer brute force.”

    Back in ancient Arlathan, when Elgar’nan is on the precipice of declaring himself god, he and Solas clash over what constitutes good leadership.

    They argue about it. And also fuck about it.

     

    Update: Now with a second chapter! Mythal lays down the law. In her own way.

    Language:
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