[It's a light jab, but it still wins a twist of the lips, despite his trepidation. Sileal indeed— though the idea of a dream where some other thing, either his own memory or some curious spirit, wears her face and voice...]

I have not dreamed of you in many years. [The admission comes reluctantly, almost shy. He leans back into the bedding, drawing her with him as he does. Trite as it is, this is their first night in the same bed, and he will not lie next to her like a plank of wood when he could do better by holding Lavellan near his heart.] When I watched, it was only ever from a distance, and whenever my dreams began to form a facsimile, I... could not bear it. It would not have been you.

[Solas stills her gentle affection with a hand cupped around her cheek and jaw, fingers warm in her hair and the shadow of one ear. His answering kiss is deep and lingering, full of his long-held longing for her, the reality of her.]

But you are here. I will take courage in that.