"Solas? You there?" Taryn stood outside of Solas' tent, rocking on the balls of her feet. It was quiet but after a few moments Solas' voice drifted out to her.

"You may enter."

Lifting up the tent flap, Lavellan poked her head inside and was instantly greeted by warmth. It was not as if the Emerald Graves was cold necessarily, but night was fast approaching and the temperature dropped pretty quickly and unexpectedly. Inside Solas' tent though, it was quite cozy with the light of a few candles lighting the space up.

"Era seranna ma, I'm sorry for disturbing you," she said as she moved fully inside, closing the tent flap behind her. "But I'm glad you're here."

"What is it you need, emma lath?"

"Everyone is outside celebrating today's victory against the Freemen of the Dales. Bull is even out there doing what he calls a 'keg stand'. He's making quite a sight," she laughed, her eyes lighting up in excitement. "You should come join us."

The elf looked up at her, a surprised expression passing across his face before it was carefully hidden. And Lavellan had to give it to him, he at least had the decency to look like he was actually considering in joining them, but sure enough – "I would love to, but.." He began.

Taryn raised a hand, stopping his words. "Say no more," she said with a small smile, she didn't want to pressure the man or make him feel the need to make excuses if he were uncomfortable. "I thought I'd ask anyways." And he actually did look guilty at that, which was not her intention at all when she came in. She sat down next to him and met his eyes. "I'm not going to force it, Solas, but they and I are more than just your companions, vhenan. They're your friends. And I'm.. " She paused, not really sure what she was planning to say next. Instead, she patted the hand that he had rested upon a tome. Solas studied the woman before him, Taryn was normally so light and spritely that it almost always caught him off guard when she looked at him with such a serious face. "I know how much you value your privacy, Solas, but you don't have to isolate yourself to keep that." She fixed him with a look, golden eyes piercing, knowing. And in that moment, Solas felt exposed, as if she could see through him, as if she knew. The moment was soon gone, however, and Solas watched as she pulled away, trying to squash the feeling of loss as her hand withdrew from his own.

"If you change your mind, we're going to have a bonfire by the lake, tonight. This time, it will be me who drinks Iron Bull under the table." The elf laughed, looking at the Inquisitor who stood up at her total of five feet and was truly expecting to best a qunari in a drinking game.

"Do be careful, Lavellan," he spoke, a fond smile making its way upon his lips.

She waved him off. "Oh please, I'm always careful," she assured as she spun on her heel to head out only to smack her forehead against one of the tent poles holding up the front of his tent. "Shit," she swore and Solas was smart enough to not comment on that little spectacle as he watched her head back out to the camp where Fairbanks' men were rolling in the alcohol.

The mage went back to his tome and ignored the feeling of yearning as the sounds of merriment drifted over to him.

Not much time had passed, he knew. But suddenly, the air was different, Solas could feel it. His head snapped up from his reading and he swore. She's here, he thought and set the book aside as he left the tent.

The night was dark, save for the light of the fire towards the lake. He spared a glance at the gathering of revelers to make sure that he was not spotted as he slunk into the shadows of the night. He moved through the trees, darkness clouding over him like an old friend. The moon was high in the sky, alighting the natural paths in the forest, but he followed none of them. Instead, he followed her call – her whispers – until the sound grew deafeningly loud in his eardrums. He was not far from the celebrations what with the light of the fire reaching the the base of the tree lines where he hid, but the festivities never seemed further away than it did in that moment.

"Hello, old friend," Flemeth walked out from behind a tree and slunk towards him.

"Why are you here?" He growled. Mythal wasn't one to show her face often and he quickly grew wary of her presence.

The woman laughed, a sound that sent chills up along his spine and put him on edge. "Fixing your mess, apparently."

"It is under control."

"Ah yes," she spoke whimsically. "The breach in the sky clearly attests to that."

"I will say this once, and only once, Flemeth. Leave now and do not approach me again." She could seek him out in the Fade if she so chose, but not here. Not when his everything was a mere few feet away.

Flemeth's expression quickly became more solemn. "Fen'harel, what are you doing?" She whispered, fixing him with a look akin to pity. A look that he did not wish to see – not from her. "You do not belong here, with these people." He knew that all too well, was aware of that fact every day and even moreso when he looked at Lavellan, feeling the need to tell her the truth, share everything and yet knowing he could never take that step. "Come with me, old friend. We can fix this, you and I, and restore the People to what they once were together."

Solas gazed up at her as she reached out to him, pain written across his features. Her hand cradled his cheek and he unconsciously leaned into the touch, so familiar and yet so foreign in this form. He was tempted to go with her. She could help him regain his power, together they could undo his mistakes – every last one. It would be so easy. Too easy. But he has already chosen his path.

The elf pulled away from her, and glanced towards the group over by the lake. The bonfire reflected off the surface of the lake, casting the area in bright light. Music played and alcohol was being passed around between the men and women. The Iron Bull was charging at Lavellan, head first, and the Inquisitor held him back by the horns, shrieking with laughter.

"It seems you have already made your choice," Flemeth commented, drawing his attention away from the festivities.

"I have," he agreed. "And I intend to see it through to the end."

"Then you should go back to your People." They both knew she didn't mean the Elvhen, and that stung. Everything that Solas had done, he had done for the People. And here she was, accusing him of leaving them behind. Before he could say as much, the witch disappeared in a cloud of smoke and Solas was left alone once more.

He sighed, and closed his eyes. He would see this through to the end. He would. Repeating that mantra to himself, the elf left the shadows of the trees behind and headed towards the light of the fire. The sounds of merriment grew louder as he drew close and he spotted Taryn atop one of Bull's shoulders, Sera on his other, each using one of his horns to keep balance. Solas was amazed the qunari put up with so much and it surely spoke of how much he cared for the plucky women using him as a stepping stool, as he couldn't imagine that his kind much enjoyed others touching their horns.

Taryn raised her tankard with one hand, and let out a war cry. "Horns up!" She bellowed and a cheer rose among the crowd as they too raised their own drinks. Encouraged, the rogue took a large swig of her beer and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand when she was done only for another round of shouts and cheers to accompany the action.

His eyes met hers and he could hear his heart begin to beat like a drum as her entire face lit up at the sight of him. Within moments, she was jumping off of Bull's shoulder and bounding towards him.

"Hey!" The Bull protested. "I'm not a springboard, you know."

Taryn ignored the qunari and stood by Solas. "You're here," she spoke, relief tinting her voice.

"And you're drunk," he dutifully pointed out.

"Don't be fooled, Lady Herald," Sera clumsily rolled off of Iron Bull's shoulders, far more inebriated than Lavellan was. "He's just here for your approval so he can remove your breeches and get to the banging bits later."

Solas sighed. "Tactfully put, Sera."

"That's not a denial," Bull pitched in as he too bounded over, another tankard in hand. "Here, elf. I want to see how well you hold your alcohol."

"Ah, no tha – "

"It's not a request," Bull said sternly, forcing the alcohol into his hands. "You, too, will be getting drunk tonight. It's practically a Rite of Passage."

Solas looked to the Inquisitor, hoping for a bit of back up but she just smiled cheekily and said, "Drink up, Solas!"

Sera wrapped her arm around the mage's shoulders in encouragement (and likely also to prevent him from leaving). "Come on, you tit!"

"I suppose I have no choice in the matter," he sighed as he lifted up the tankard and downed its contents. He made a face as it burned down his throat. Creators, that was strong. When he was done, a loud cheer rose up from the crowd, and even Sera looked impressed before scrambling atop of Bull's shoulder once more, grabbing more ale from the qunari as she did so.

"Let's get shit-faced!" the qunari yelled and a chorus of enthusiastic drunkards responded in kind.

"For the Inquisition and Her Gracious Ladybits!" Sera declared, and the music from the bards began to play once more as they sang a song dedicated to their very own elven archer.

Solas' attention was drawn from the scene before him as the Inquisitor pressed against his side. She leaned up onto her toes to press a kiss on his cheek, too drunk to care who saw. "I'm glad you're here," she whispered, quiet enough so that only he could hear.

He looked into her golden eyes, so full of love, the literal light in his life before him. "As am I."