Home is definitely where the heart is.

After two months away, IIyana and company found themselves three sheets to the wind and huddled around a table of cards with Varric providing entertaining reenactments of the Champion of Kirkwall. The Herald's Rest was wildly boisterous than usual, with patrons celebrating the successful campaign of the Western Approach, along with the safe return of their loved ones just in time for Summerday.

Eclipsing that joy was the spreading rumor IIyana single-handedly shanked a high-dragon to death, officially earning her the title Dragon Slayer, or unofficially, Cutthroat Dangerous – Shank Them Where It Hurts. The story became more ridiculous, more grandiose with each passing hour, and IIyana had to laugh at the audacity of it all.

What the hell, if it improved moral, she will happily drink to it.

Heading downstairs an hour later for a refill, IIyana was surprised to see Cullen leaning against the bar, laughing at whatever story Cabot – the tavern's bartender – was sharing. He'd discarded his coat and armor and his shirt was unbuttoned, teasing the ridged muscle underneath. His cheeks were flushed, his hair disheveled, and the stress around his eyes was gone, along with the tension around his mouth. He appeared younger, more boyish, and a sexy smile curved in greeting as she approached.

Cullen Rutherford was a dedicated man. In the months since Haven, time spent together was usually from across the war table or in his office reviewing military strategies. If he wasn't reading reports or training new recruits – which, by the way, had become her and Dorian's favorite past time – he was with Blackwall evaluating Skyhold's infrastructure or in the armory approving new schematics for the military. He'd worked hard to get them where they were today and he deserved to be celebrated and praised by his men.

He moved to the side when she arrived. "Fancy seeing you here, Commander," IIyana greeted and gave Cabot a smile when he handed her a fresh mug.

"My lady," Cullen replied. The corner of his mouth tilted, accentuating the scar on his upper lip, eyes twinkling as his gaze landed on hers. She couldn't deny that his intense gaze made her heart flutter and she thought him incredibly handsome tonight. He'd spent the past three weeks near the sandpits of the Approach, overseeing the construction of bridges so they may explore the northern areas of the arid expanse. He was sun-kissed golden and it only added to his good looks.

"Have you been here awhile, Cullen," she asked. She took a swift from her drink, hoping he couldn't see her flush.

"I've only just arrived." He replied. "Varric said there be a game of cards."

"We're upstairs, would you care to join us?" His eyes twinkled in response and he gave her a cheeky grin. Raising to his full height, Cullen swept his gaze along her frame and leaned forward, offering her his arm. "I've always wanted to do this, IIyana," he chuckled softly. "My lade, please allow me to escort you upstairs."

It was such a gentlemanly thing to do that she couldn't help but give a shy smile. He was a big man, strong and solid, and she felt delicate all of a sudden. Fragile. With her best Valy Royeaux impression, IIyana gracefully dipped into a deep curtsy and her body shook with mirth at his throaty chuckle.

But before he could whisk her upstairs, a disturbance near the front doors had heads turning – all conversations decreasing into haunting silence. She felt a small shiver tingled up her spine before she noted the tension in the room. How long it's been there, she wasn't sure, but Cabot's surprised expression had her following his gazed in confusion. From the shadows emerged a tall, dark figure and the crowd parted nervously as the Mage stalked towards his prey.

Solas

He was more handsome than she remembered and the memory of his lips sent a hot flash of desire straight to her core. She'd never seen him so dark, so dangerously primitive that it was all she could do not to spew her drink on Cullen's freshly pressed tunic. Solas' blue eyes found hers and a small, yet predatory smile graced his lips. He was calm, collected but she could feel his magic spiraled uncontrollably – unhinged, barely contained – and to her utter horror, she became shamefully aroused. Nervous, she licked her lips and stepped forward, a small greeting on the tip of her tongue.

"Hello, Solas," she managed. "It's been a long time."

His eyes narrowed, burning her inside out. "And how long would that be, Inquisitor?"

In truth, she'd not seen nor spoken to him since he took her into the Fade. He'd shared his experience with keeping her alive after she was discovered at the Temple of Ashes and afterward, impulsively she might add, IIyana had pulled him into a scorching kiss. Only to realize that he was not reciprocating. Humiliation flushed her cheeks at the memory and she'd opened her mouth to answer when Sera's inebriated crackled from above. The poor girl was completely sloshed, leaning too far over the rails, each hand holding a mug, with arms spread wide as if she were about to give a speech.

"Come on, Inky! Tell the Egg the truth." The young elf hollered. IIyana stiffened, quickly assessed what she'd shared in passing, and shot her friend an anxious look. "Sera, come down from there. You'll fall."

"Hey, Chuckles!" Varric chimed in. Apparently, he was also annihilated because he didn't see IIyana's dirty look. "It's been two months. Two months. The Inquisitor should know, she was marking the days until our return." IIyana moaned out loud, "Holy shit, Varric. Seriously?" But he wasn't paying her any attention, too busy having a full-blown conversation with Sera, on the second floor, about her and Solas, in front of everyone.

"Inky told you what happened too?" Sera laughed, slapping Varric on the arm so hard that he dropped his mug, the liquid splashing on the guests below. "It was the Fade, thing, yeah?"

"Definitely the Fade thing," Dorian voiced drifted from the tables. Fucking Traitor, IIyana's mind screamed. "But it was really about the kiss. Youd should have kissed her back, you damn hobo." The latter was directed at Solas with a snarky glare.

"Kiss? What kiss?!" That from Iron Bull. There was a shuffling sound as if he couldn't get to the railing fast enough. "Boss", he bellowed, "you kissed the Egg?" When IIyana shrieked and rolled her eyes, Iron Bull raised his glass to Solas in a salute. "Well about fucking damn time."

IIyana screeched loudly. "All of you are being ridiculous! You're drunk and behaving inappropriately -"

Not wanting her to feel any more distressed, Cullen reached over. "IIyana," he said softly.

And then all hell broke loose. Solas let out a gut-wrenching snarled, stalked forward and sucker-punched Cullen right in his beautiful face. Before IIyana could register what just happened and check on her commander, she was pulled possessively against Solas' chest and the mage had fade stepped out of the room. She barely had time to react before she was dragged up a flight of stairs and shoved into an empty room above the battlements.

"What the fuck, Solas!" IIyana hissed, storming to the opposite end of the room. She was utterly and compilated. To have her confidants expose her shame and then manhandled by the very man who contributed to it. It was simply too much.

"What the fuck, indeed, Inquisitor," Solas sneered. He gave her a stern look before turning around to ward the door against intruders. It crossed her mind that he would never hurt her but whatever he had to say, she was going to have to listen whether she liked it or not. But she wasn't going to pretend that she didn't know what this was about, and in an attempt to steer the conversation, she thought of whatever she could to maintain control.

"Were you able to complete your research on the shards we found in the Hinterlands?" She asked." You'll be surprised to know that similar ones were discovered in the Western Approach. Cassandra and I believe they are a part of a set."

His jaw clenched.

"Have you had dinner? I didn't see you in the hall when we arrived and I wondered if-if you had …." she stammered off as his expression hardened. Damn bastard, she thought. Tilting her chin. "What is this about, Solas," she demanded.

Exasperation laced his voice. "Don't you know, my dear Inquisitor?" She had suspected but she didn't dare to entertain the thought that he was upset at her for slipping away for two months and ceasing all communication with him. She'd kissed him in the Fade and he didn't reciprocate. He had no right to determined how she wished to processed his rejection. "I wouldn't be asking if I knew," she answered tartly. "I've had a long day and I'm too tired. If you have nothing to say, step aside so that I may leave."

Raw anger shot through him and Solas' face twisted into a sneer. Two months of pent-up frustration, hope, and uncertainty and she would dare play this game with him. How typical of her to pretend, to toy with his affections. He will not have it. Solas reached her in three strides, cornering her against the wall. "Tell me, Inquisitor. How does it feel?" He was so close that she could feel the heat of his breath.

"How does what feel, Solas?" She snapped. She didn't mean to, but he had that effect on her. Why must everything be so complicated between the two of them? She was tired of it.

"Being you." His eyes blazed. "Are you blissfully unaware, or deep inside, is there some part of you banging on the walls screaming at your own arrogance?"

"I don't remind minds, Solas. If you have something to say, spit it out."

His mouth curled in disgust. "How typical of you to pretend otherwise– to reject your own faults. I imagined it would be sad of you to examine yourself with a critical eye, you are Dalish are you not? Although, I should watch my tongue. I speak to a demi-god after all. The chosen of Andreste." She stiffened at his insult but he ignored it. A part of him was aware that he was overreacting but he couldn't contain the resentment and bitterness he felt over the past two months. In truth, honestly didn't know where all this angst was coming from.

But he'd judged her with so much venom that IIyana was surprised he didn't spit at her in disgust. His animosity hurt, his accusation cut her more deeply than she was willing to admit, and she shook her head in denial. "Dalish or demi-god, I never wanted the power and you know it."

"And yet you took it, did you not?" He countered. "Tell me, Inquisitor, do you enjoy the people's worship of you? Does it make you infallible?" He bent his face closer to hers. "Does it make it easier to see them as fools, easier to bend them to your will.?"

"Do not confuse me with our enemy," she defended. "I am no more Inquisitor than I am IIyana, and I have not been corrupted by the people's worship of me. Whatever you think I did, I did not do it purposefully."

"You said you have not been corrupted but yet you glorify in it. Deny it!" He said harshly. "Deny that you enjoy the power you have over people, the thrill it gives you as you campaign for lands, allies, and pass judgment on those who cross you." He jerked her towards him and said in a terrible voice, "Or the pleasure your gain from manipulating the affections of others into playing your game."

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" She cried, shoving him in an attempt to get away from his aggression. Despite the tension brewing between them since Haven – which contributed to months of supercilious and calculating exchanges that followed them straight into the halls of Skyhold – there was a limit to their banter. He had never spoken to her like this. Has never treated her with savage, belligerent hostility that she shamefully felt tears prickled at her lashes. She spoke quickly, driven by sheer desperation to both understand and defending herself against his allegations.

"What is this really about? Why are you angry with me? Is it because I left without speaking to you, or because I didn't return your messages? Please, tell me. What did I do to deserve your scorn? If I've offended you, I am sorry. I -"

"I saw the way looked at him!" He yelled. Angry that she would continue to play this game. She was a damn flirt and he would be damned if she strung him along. "The way you flirted with your dear fucking Command – The Lion of Feraldon. Tell me, did you kiss him the way you kissed me? Did you let him touch you? Allow him liberties you've denied me."

"Flirting! Kiss - Cullin is my friend and I have never considered him as nothing more!"

"A friend you took with you to the Approach. A friend you allowed into your life while you scorned me"

She gave him a puzzled look, trying to process everything at once. Her anxiety was coiling out of control and she tried desperately to manage it by soothing his wrath. "Solas, I don't know what this is about. If you would simply tell me. Believe me when I say Cullen is only a friend."

"You said he is a friend. Yet you would have let him take you on the fucking floor if he'd offered!" He roared.

She gasped, gone completely still. Unable to speak. Numb actually. The implication of his words echoed across the room, a shameful reminder of how low his opinion of her truely was. Her entire face transformed into a gut-wrenching pain and it dawned on him that he'd gone too far. He was a fool, an old damn fool, and he regretted his words immediately. He'd been hurt when he walked into the tavern and saw her speaking with Cullen and had reacted in rage. She didn't deserve his angst. She didn't deserve any of the things he's said and done to her tonight. Solas' opened his mouth to apologize – to beg her for her forgiveness - but it was too late.

IIyana strucked him. Hard. Across his face. He barely had a moment to collect his thoughts before the force of her second blow had him staggering, nearly losing his balance. He caught her wrist before she could strike him again, convinced that she intended to serve more damage. Two thoughts registered immediately – IIyana had a powerful right hand, and he'd hurt her deeply.

"Stand still," he commanded.

"Fuck you, Solas." She said, struggling to free herself from his strong hold. He heard the harsh sound of her angry breathing – as equally as his own heavy one – and the fight drained out from him. "Don't make me restrain you, IIyana," he pleaded.

"How dare you." She said, tilting her face to meet his. The ache in her voice pulled at him and he loosened his grip on her arm. "How dare you speak to me that way … belittle me in such a way that I would have crumble to my knees and beg your forgiveness. How dare you accuse me of toying with the affections of others when it was you –You! - who rejected me. Yet you behave as though you have a right to claim me for your own." She pushed him away angrily. "You are such a fucking asshole, Solas. Tell me, how does it feel to be you? To be filled with such superiority and contempt that you would taint those you touch by poisoning them with your hate. Does your hate run so deeply that you would stop at nothing until you've shredded me of all dignity? Of my integrity?" She was rambling now, had moved towards him, listing his transgressions until his back hit the opposite wall.

"I am NOT a whore." Tears flowed freely now and her eyes softened sadly. "I am not a whore …" she insisted, but her throat had closed up, the hot ache swelling, becoming nearly unbearable. Solas gazed at the beauty before him and he was afraid to move, afraid to speak. Afraid to shatter whatever remained of their fragile relationship. "IIyana," he said tenderly. She glared at him and he hesitantly reached out. "I"m sorry. I"m so sorry." She flinched but did not pull away when he took a step forward.

Never in his long life had he ever treated anyone with as much viciousness as he had her tonight – not even the Evanuris when he discovered their betrayal. He was remorseful, ashamed of his behavior, and no amount of atoning will make up for his ruthless behavior; he'd flayed her raw with his accusation and attacked her character with scorching abandonment. No amount of atoning would ever make up for it.

"IIyana, look at me please." He begged. A minute passed. Then two. And he let out a sigh of relief when she brought her eyes to meet his. Her face twisted into an expressionless mask and she tilted her chin. She would not make it easy for him but she was willing to listen. "Forgive me," he said softly. "The things I said, they were unwarranted."

"Yes, they were. You are such a fucking asshole, Solas." She hissed. He gave her a small smile, "Yes, yes I am." He would have happily agreed if it meant she'd stopped crying.

She sniffled, secretly appreciating his honestly. "Sera was right. She said you were too much of an Egg to understand anything."

His lips twitched in response. "That too." She'd wanted to hate him, to remain angry, but the last two months have changed her perspective of him. She couldn't have remained upset if she wanted to. "I'm sorry," he said again.

IIyana stared intently into his gaze, searching for deception before she took a deep breath and release the tension straining her body. She had every right to be angry but, in all honesty, she was simply too emotionally drained. "What is this about, Solas," she inquired. The flush in her cheeks had faded and her breath resumed its normal beat. For every fault he'd found with Inquisitor Lavellan, she was a genuinely honest person who did not cower from complicated matters. She would expect a complete explanation, no more and no less, and Solas let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

His mind screamed at his shameful behavior and his heart hurt, chest aching as if he'd been struck with a blade. The truth was difficult but if sharing this part of himself will grant her freedom from this torment, then he owed her that. "I was angry," he admitted. Her eyes widened into round, green sauces, almost as if she was saying no shit. "More so at myself than with you, IIyana."

"Well, that's good to here." She briskly replied. "You were a complete jackass."

"Yes, I won't disagree."

"And you punched Cullen for no reason." She chastised and remain stern when his jaw tightened. "I believe I was jealous," he answered truthfully.

"Jealous? Of Cullen? But why?" Her voice trailed off and when he arched a brow, her eyes widened even more. "Oh," she said. A hint of pink spread across her cheeks in embarrassment.

"Yes." He said, equally flushed. "The feeling was unfamiliar and I am afraid I reacted rather than admit how I felt."

She gave him a smug smile. "More like overreacted," she corrected.

"More or less. The man does have great hair." He said dryly. IIyana blinked a couple of times, unsure if she'd heard correctly, and then her laughter exploded into the room, echoing brightly and cleansing it free of shadows and doubt. "That he does," she agreed cheekily. She gave him a lopsided smile before placing her hand on his chest. "Thank you, Solas," she said softly, "for your apology"

His heart quickened under her touch and she would be lying if she said she hand' missed him. But her thoughts were interrupted by the pounding at the door. The muffling voices coming from beyond indicated her friends have sobered long enough to track them down. The pounding continued until she yelled, asking for an additional five minutes.

"They are worried about you," Solas said, squeezing her hand. "And I have taken much of your time. I suggest I take you back to the hall," he offered.

She nodded in agreement but neither moved from where they stood. Although their relationship was a chaotic mess it was predictable and easy, but the kiss had changed everything and they both knew it. He stared at her for a long time before she felt him reach for her, tilting her chin to meet his gaze, letting out a defeated sigh.

He'd lost the battle long before it ever began. "Fenedhis," he whispered softly.

Solas' arms went around her, one hand gliding up to grip the silken heavy mass of her braid. Her head angled in response and he whispered her name huskily. He leaned in, captured her lips, and then the whole world exploded into an endless ray of sunshine, colors, and stars. His hold tightened until she moaned desperately into his mouth.

He'd never felt like this before – to be pulled in with such hunger that he wanted to taste the rest of her. He trailed soft kisses along her cheek and down to her chin, before bringing them back to her lips. It surprised him how natural it came to him to be kissing her like this. Even before thoughts could form in his brain.

He nibbled slowly on her lower lip. "You should go. They are waiting for you," he said breathlessly. But she shook her head. "Again," she pleaded against his lips, "just like that."

And he obliged.

Swooping down to capture her lips, Solas confessed what he could not vocally through heat and lust, tenderness and greed. Each touch, gasp, and moan was a plead for forgiveness and she accepted each wholeheartedly. He'd never imagined she would yield like this, each response so natural and giving that he was on the verge of losing control. He pulled away regretfully. "We have to stop," he said. His breath was ragged just like hers, and he let out a heavy sigh when she nodded. The pair separated and Solas stepped aside to unlock the door; meanwhile, IIyana took the time to gather her thoughts.

Awhile later when he was calm, Solas turned to face her, a warm smile graced his lips. "Are you ready?" he asked softly. The welt on his face was already swelling and she gave him an apologetic look. "Solas … your face. Let me heal it first." He shook his head. "I will keep it as a reminder," he said. Then his mouth curved into a tender, loving smile, "I am glad you are home, IIyana. I have missed you."

"As have I," she admitted truthfully.

He flushed lightly. "Good night, Yana. I will see you tomorrow."

And like that, he left her alone to process her feelings and contemplate the changes in their relationship.