As IIyana scanned the dispatch confirming Magister's Erimond's whereabouts and his alliance with Warden Clarel, she couldn't help but think what a fucking mess the situation had turned into. She thought back to Stroud's statement that many of the Wardens have begun hearing the calling, and she made a mental note to check on Blackwall, before tossing the report on top of her desk and heading downstairs for lunch. Since her return, her schedule had kept her in meetings from sunrise to sunset with little time for personal engagement and she happily accepted Dorian's invitation to go for a walk.

The past three days have been a twirling wave of anger, dread, fear, and relief, rebounding from absolute certainty to undeniable dread. She had found herself heading to the rotunda many times but her courage would dissolve at the last minute and she would redirect her steps in the opposite direction. When she did catch a glimpse of Solas, her heart would constrict and beat widely with an intense yearning and she would have to distract herself with whatever she was doing to refrain from chasing him down. Yesterday evening, she found herself outside his bedroom door, hand raised to knock, but her courage disintegrated and she quickly retreated back to her room.

She would find herself wide awake, tossing and turning, and helpless to ward off the memory of him. The warmth of his body as his arms tightened around her waist, pulling her against his chest. The feel of his lips as they captured and claimed her for his own.

I felt the whole world change, he had told her.

And she equally agreed that he did the same to her.

No matter what she tried to do, something always brought her back to him.

But in the final moments before dawn, that is when she finally yields and admits to herself that she desires to be loved, and then she would ache and yearn, finding release with her own fingers. And when she does, it was his name she would gasp, leaving her empty and yearning for the real thing. Her heart would constrict afterward, tears gathering against her lashes because she would feel it – this fragile spark of hope that erupted naturally, as naturally as her own breathing and she would imagine a life with him. By morning, she would remember that she was the Inquisitor and they were at war, and there was no room for whatever this is.

"You're doing that thing again," Dorian said, pulling IIyana away from her thoughts. The pair had circled the battlements twice before she realized they were making their way down the steps leading into the gardens.

"What is that I'm doing, Dorian." She said softly. She was tired from lack of sleep, short with her temper, and she didn't feel like being the subject of Dorian's inquiry at the moment, no matter how good his intentions were.

"Avoiding." He added.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Just admit, IIyana. You have feelings for him."

"How about I happily strangle you instead."

"I'll just come back and haunt you," he threatened with a grin. "Then you will have two people to keep you up at night."

She gritted her teeth in response and the pair continued in silence until they rounded the corner.

"You should speak with him." He finally said. He was concern about her, have not missed the dark circles that have appeared since she returned home.

"In case you haven't noticed, I have been busy." She was walking ahead and felt him reach for her, pulling her to a stop.

"We've all been busy, chasing Grey Wardens and Venitori all over Thedas." He countered. "All I'm saying is, as your friend, your best friend, you should talk to him. At least hear him out so that you both can sleep at night."

"And say what?" She glared. She was talking with her hands now - she did that often when she was stressed. "Besides, he's busy. I can't just sweep in, interrupt his research and talk about - whatever this is."

"You can." He reassured. "Just admit that you are equally as afraid of whatever this is, as he." Dorian was right, she was afraid. "Alright, if you can't talk to him, then talk to me." Tilting her chin up. "What is happening between you two."

"I don't know."

"There has to be more to it than I don't know, IIyana. No man would punch his rival and then whisk you away to scream at you without harboring some kind of emotion."

"That's just it, I don't know. He kissed me and now I don't know what this is anymore. We were easy before but now its ... weird. " Dorian gave her a validating smile. He knew her well enough to know when she was troubled, had seen it many times to recognize when she was stressed and frustrated, as she was now. With that said, whatever was bothering her this time was different ... and his heart went out to her. He's had his own share of torment when it came to romantic matters of the heart and he wanted her to know that at the very least, she had him.

"How does he make you feel?" Dorian asked.

"What do you mean."

"When he kissed you."

"Why does that matter." She stepped back, cheeks pink, eyes downcast.

"Because the man is enamored with you. I've seen the way his eyes follow you when he thinks no one is looking. Now tell me, how was the kiss."

She began pacing, raking her fingers into her messy hair, and she opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it, and opened it again. The poor girl was struggling to form words and Dorian to threw his head back in laughter. She was a mess and deliciously unaware of what had been obvious to everyone since she crossed paths with Solas. "Oh, my ... I didn't' realize, IIyana."

She glared then. "Are you going to listen or just stand there and laugh?"

"By all means."

She rubbed her face with her hands. "The kiss was - nothing I had ever experienced before. It was ... it was as if ..." Her voice trailed off into a frustrated sigh. "You don't understand, Dorian. I am the inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste. I have miraculously survived the wrath of an angry God, fought against demons and red Templars alike, and I have met every battle with ruthless bravery that often has my enemies shaking in their boots. And yet -" her voice hitched as if it were difficult to breathe, "and yet this .. arrogant, self-centered, condescending man had the audacity to kiss me and ... and it ... made me feel ..."

"Go on ..." he encouraged tenderly.

"Beautiful." She was awe-struck as if she had discovered something new. "I have never felt anything like that before. No one has made me feel anything like that before."

"It sounds like your original assessment of him has changed."

"It has, and now I find myself thinking about him all the damn time." She said, placing emphasis on the last four words. "I don't know what to do or what I should say. I"m a damn mess and all because of a damn fucking kiss."

"You should speak to him. I believe he would welcome the opportunity to explain how he feels too."

Without warning, what had started as a rebuttal turned into a defeated sigh and she felt Dorian's arms slide gently around her. "Why is this so damn complicated," she murmured against his chest.

"Because I think you are in love, IIyana"

She tilted her head in confusion, blinking several times as if to process the meaning of his words. Then, to his delight, her face constricted into sheer horror and she snapped her gaze to him, "oh ... shit."

Solas was making his way back to the rotunda from Cullen's office when IIyana's laughter drifted into the air and he followed the sound like a love-sick fool, heading in the direction of the garden until he found the source of his curiosity. She was sitting in the middle of the garden, her head bent, surrounded by several of the castle's children. Whatever she was reading had them all groaning out loud when she read the last page and closed the book. The afternoon sun was streaming into her hair and she appeared ethereal. He thought she never looked more beautiful. He wanted to join her, to share in her laughter, but the memory of his erratic behavior held him in place. Although she had reciprocated his affections, he could feel a dull, hot blush of shame covering his cheeks, shame that competed fiercely with this growing need to be around her. He wouldn't blame her if she hated him.

"She doesn't hate you," Cole said softly.

Solas offered a greeting but did not tear his gaze away from IIyana.

"Lovely. She is so lovely. Yearning. Craving. She is so bright, a light to guide him home. Why are you afraid?"

"Those are my private thoughts, Cole," Solas said.

"But she yearns too." He added. "His lips are warm, gasps, please, her heart sings. I feel so beautiful. Again, just like that. I want – wa. What happened? Where did it go?"

"Forgive me, Cole." Solas sigh, directing his gaze to his companion. "Although you are a spirit of compassion, I must insist that you refrain from interfering."

"But you are both hurting and I want to help."

Solas gave him a disapproving glare and the young man hesitated before disappearing altogether. By then, the children had left and IIyana was standing alone, clutching the book to her chest, staring straight at him. Her eyes held his for a moment and then they softened, and she gave him a lopsided smile, raising her hand in greeting.

He had pictured in his mind a thousand times of how he would respond when he finally stopped pretending that she was a simple distraction, a reprieve from all the chaos that was threatening the world. He never imagined the burst of pride that exploded through his entire body, making it ache, as reality crashed and swept him away with the confession that he had fallen in love with IIyana Lavellan. He searched her eyes for any signs of distress, and when he found none, Solas raised his hand in greeting and watched in breathless anticipation as she started down the path, leading to where he stood.

"Hello," she said softly, striving not to let him know how her heart was thundering, her nerves quivering.

"Hello." He said, with a small smile. Her hair was longer now, braided loosely and draped similarly to when he last saw her, and he couldn't help but imagine if it were as soft as he remembered. "You look ... well, Inquisitor."

She couldn't help but averted her eyes, biting her lips. She can be abrasive, callous, fatalistic in nature. But he had never seen her so nervous, noting the flush of pink spreading across her cheeks, revealing a shy, feminine part of her that accentuated her loveliness. And he was discovering that he liked this softer side of her. He surprised the urge to wrap his arms around her and kiss her then and there, in front of everyone.

"Thank you. As do you. Have you been well?"

"Yes, as well as anyone who's been closeted in research."

"Sounds like you need a distraction. Can I recommend an alternative?"

Just you, he thought and was surprised at how natural the words came. "I am open to suggestions." He took a step closer. "But I fear that I'm still recovering from the last one." He tilted his head to the side. "I will do better in refraining from offering any assumptions the next time we argue."

She laughed then. "Not that you didn't deserve it." She studied the blueish-green mark on the left side of his cheek, embarrassed that she had marked his handsome face. Even more so at the thought that everyone must know that she gave it to him. She has had two days to reflect on her behavior and she regretted her part in contributing to the outcome. Taking a step forward, she trailed her fingers along his face. "Here, let me."

Soft, white magic glowed between her fingers and he felt her magic spread warmly along his cheek, her touch feather-like, delicate. He can see the light reflecting in her eyes, illuminated her features, highlighting the depth of her green eyes. She did not remove her hand when she finished, her gaze returning to meet his, this time with a burning intensity that he was familiar with and he reached for her.

"Inquisitor."

With an anguished groan, she turned to Riley who was striding forward, his attention focused on the report in his hand. Her eyes narrowed and she voiced her displeasure, "what is it?"

"Forgive me my lady" He glanced up, taking in the mage's cool expression and the Inquisitor's frown. He realized then that he had interrupted an intimate moment and began rambling. " It' Commander Cullen. Sister Leliana's report just arrived with new information about Adamant and he requests your presence in the war room."

"Tell the Commander I will be there shortly."

"Yes, m'lady," Riley said, bowing slightly before leaving the two alone. "Right away. Forgive the intrusion."

The moment between them had been broken, interrupted by the reality of their duties, and Solas gave her a reassuring smile. "You should go, Inquisitor. Cullen is expecting you and I have research to attend to."

She gave him a questioning look before bidding him farewell and turned around, taking the steps down the path that will lead her into the main hall. He cursed himself silently for always putting duty first and was about to call her name when she stopped, turned around, and made her way back to him. He wanted to say something. Tried to think of anything to say to her. Anything - invite her for tea, tell her about his day, compliment her hair - anything to prolong whatever little time they had together.

"IIyana -"

"I'm sorry, Solas." She interrupted. Her sense of urgency made her breathless as if she were afraid that if she didn't get all the words out, then she would never be able to do so. "For running away like a coward. I could only imagine how that must have felt ... and then to have all your messages return unopened." She took a second to gather her thoughts before continuing, "I have spent the past two days reflecting on my behavior and how I handled the situation, and I owe you an apology." She was talking with her hands again, a habit he had found annoying, but now interestingly enduring. "I'm sorry, Solas."

"Thank you, IIyana." Her apology was unexpected and it humbled him greatly. It comforted him to know that he was not alone in this. "I would imagine that if you had stayed, the conversation would have been difficult ... for the both of us. I've also had time to reflect on my own behavior and I, too, apologize for whatever grief it may have caused you."

Her eyes searched his and he felt her slight hesitation. It was apparent she wanted to ask him something but she was unsure of how to frame the words. He had never known IIyana to be speechless and he waited patiently until she was ready. Finally, he heard her faint whisper, "why did you kiss me?".

Because I have wanted to for a long time, the thought lingered but was left unsaid. She had looked away and he tilted her chin until she met his gaze, "For the same reason you kissed me, IIyana. I could neither deny our attraction any more than you can." He reached to pull her close and said tenderly. "May I ask you something in return?" At her nod, he continued, "why have you been avoiding me?"

"Because ..." she whispered.

"Because?"

"Because I have never done anything like that before on a number of levels. Because I'm supposed to hate you for the things you said to me. Because I'm embarrassed by my own reaction ... when you didn't kiss me the first time."

Her confession floored him and his eyes flickered with determination to clarify any doubts she may still harbor. "I wasn't given the chance to respond, Yana. Your actions surprised me and I dare not dream that you would feel as I do. I never imagine that it would cause you to leave before I could explain, or that you would cut me from your life completely." In his desperation to reach her, he had even sought her in the Fade but she had alluded him, leaving only the spirits to guide him with the memory of her presence. It was frustrating. She was frustrating. "You appeared unsure then. How about now?"

"I find that I don't know what to do when it comes to you anymore."

"I believe we are in agreement. All I know is that our relationship has changed and I ... find myself rather curious."

"So what do you suggest we do, Solas? About this?"

If he had learned anything in the past two months, it was that he was done playing games and he believed she was as well. IIyana was a passionate woman, openly affectionate, and loyal. When she loved, she loved deeply, and she would expect nothing less from her partner. If he chose to pursue her than he knew she would demand the same of him.

It would require unconditional surrender on his part.

He felt the slightest tug of hesitation, the nagging voice of caution screaming for him to be rational, but the hope reflected in her eyes was all the permission he needed. "Have dinner with me, Yana." He whispered huskily. "Allow me to know you."

He waited. A breath or two. And then joy and relief constricted his breath.

"Alright." She replied.

He wanted to kiss her then, slow and soft, show her how he felt because he could not find the words to express the extent of her effect on him. Instead, he laced his fingers with hers, felt hers tightened in response, and together they walked into the main hall.