His lips tingle against hers, soft and cold, but the relief that fills her is warm. She is no fool, and she knows Solas. She has not solved alone that which had taken four, and a great deal of circumstance besides. It is not the victory that Rook had won. But it is the one that Beleth could conquer alone, and her heart sings at the achievement.

She has lost him so many times, and it might yet occur in the future. But he is here now, in her arms, and that is enough. The rest will be taken as it comes.

Then his kiss heats, and Beleth burns. Any cold in the air is chased away by her beloved, the feel of him against her. His fervor is answered by her own, enthusiastic and frantic, like he might fade away and only this kiss will keep him here. Her hands grasp, greedy as her lips. It's only when Solas has the good sense to break for air that Beleth stops, blood pounding in her ears.

He's talking, again. It's important, and she should reply. But her lips are too busy twisting into a wide, exuberant smile. Goofy, she would call it, if she could look at herself. The Inquisitor, rendered a lovesick teenager by a kiss. Even so, there's no attempt to restrain herself, the giddy smile, the open and unashamed joy in her eyes. She radiates her happiness.

"My love. My heart." Things she's already said, but they escape her lips as an exultation, rather than the determined declaration they had been. "I've caught you. I am yours."

Not the way it usually works, probably. She'll sort the logic out when she's done grinning like an idiot.