Grown-ups don't look like grown-ups on the inside either.
Outside, they're big and thoughtless and they always
know what they're doing. Inside, they look just like they
always have. Like they did when they were your age.
Truth is, there aren't any grown-ups. Not one, in the whole
wide world. ~ Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane

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The candle was burning down on his desk. He noticed, though the letter he'd been writing to his sister, Mia, had been sitting on his desk for an hour, untouched. He got up and paced the room, one side to the other. Above him, up the newly built stairs and beneath the newly repaired roof, there were footsteps and the sound of hushed voices. Now and then, he'd hear a particular voice make a pained sound or curse, very loudly, and he winced.

Outside the window slit, the sun had set hours before and he could see the torches lit in the camp below, and though he'd promised himself he would not pace, he paced. A knock on the door provided a welcome distraction, and he crossed the room to let Dorian in. The mage had ridden through the gate not an hour before, and still looked windblown and disheveled. They shook hands, and then looked up involuntarily as a spate of virulent Elven cursing burst forth above their heads.

"Ah," the Tevinter mage said. "I see I've arrived with time to spare."

"Maker's breath," Cullen groaned, making another turn around the room. "I thought searching for her after Corypheus fell was bad. This is entirely worse."

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Dorian answered, only to be interrupted as one of the voices above them called for another towel and would everyone please give them room. The two men paled and looked at one another. "I hate to ask this, but do you think you should go up there?"

"She threw me out," Cullen admitted, his expression rueful. "Apparently I reek of fear."

"Well, that is problematic, though completely understandable," the mage admitted, wincing as another cry echoed down the stairs.

"I need a drink," Cullen exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's been hours now."

"Varric's on his way up," Dorian assured him. To the other side of the room, the door opened and Varric came in, followed by Cassandra. The dwarf carried a bottle of wine in each arm.

"Is it over yet?" Varric asked, blinking when Cullen relieved him of one of the bottles, uncorking it before tilting the glass directly to his mouth. "I take it that's a no."

"She is very strong," Cassandra said, resting her hand on Cullen's shoulder. "You should not be so worried, Cullen."

"I do not believe that is an option," he answered, shooting her a look and taking another drink. "I don't think I could bear it if anything …" he stopped speaking abruptly and sighed.

"Shall I go see how things are going?" The Seeker asked.

"Please." He sighed and took another drink, moving to stare out the window, praying once more beneath his breath. "Though all before me is shadow, Yet shall the Maker be my guide …"

"Cullen," Cassandra's voice from the stair had him spinning on his heel. "You should come upstairs now."

Dorian caught the wine bottle as the Commander took to the stairs, taking them three at a time until he had reached the upper floor. The healers, Raelyn and Orila, had their backs to him, but Melori caught a glimpse of his pale face between them and reached out a hand. She was walking the room as he had been, back and forth, back and forth, so he joined her, their hands linked tight together. He slid his other arm around her back, bracing her as she walked. Her bright hair was sticking to her forehead, and her face was flushed. She looked utterly exhausted.

He wanted so badly to help in some way, but there was little he could do beyond uttering encouragement and hoping his hand survived the encounter. The lights were glimmering along the horizon outside the windows when a thin, warbling cry filled the room, and Melori went limp against the mattress while the other women bustled about around them.

"You did it," he whispered, wiping her face with a damp cloth. He was smiling he realized suddenly, lips curving when she opened her eyes to look up at him. Melori smiled back and he kissed her, lingering a little. He pulled pillows over to prop her up, his fingers twining into her hair.

"Na'enansel," Orila smiled, bringing the small bundle of waving arms and loud wails across the room to lay in Melori's arms. Cullen stared at the tiny hands and feet, the small face that relaxed when held against her mother's heart. His breath seemed lodged in his throat and he found himself on the verge of tears.

"She's … so small," he whispered, reaching out a tentative finger and tracing along the curve of the tiny, silky soft cheek. "I hadn't realized she'd be so small."

"She certainly felt bigger," Melori laughed, entranced by the tuft of reddish gold curls on the top of the infant's head. Leaning forward, she laid a kiss on the bright curls, pausing as she saw the how the tip of one tiny ear tilted back into a small, but noticeable point. "Well, she takes after me a bit, I think."

"I think she's beautiful," he said, clearing his throat and flushing a little.

Melori glanced up at him, "You should hold her."

"Oh," he stared at the tiny, delicate child ... his child ... and made an incoherent sound. "What if I drop her?"

"Highly unlikely, Commander," Orila laughed. "Hold your arms like this ... yes. Exactly. Now ... there. Just make sure you keep your hand behind her head. There you go."

His heart was beating very hard, and he didn't notice how they were all staring at him, all but Melori. Even Cassandra had an odd, almost bewitched expression on her face. He was too busy holding that tiny, too light bundle in his arms and feeling with sudden, overwhelming panic that he would never be strong enough to keep her safe. He watched as the tiny mouth stretched into an impossibly huge yawn and thought his heart would break in his chest.

"Love at first sight," Raelyn mused. "Why don't you introduce her to the others while we take care of the rest, Commander?"

"Are you sure?" He asked, looking to Melori, who smiled sleepily and nodded.

"I'm not going anywhere for a little bit," she murmured.

He walked down the stairs very slowly, turning at the landing and finding Dorian at the bottom looking uncharacteristically solemn. Behind him sat Varric, Bull, the Inquisitor, Josephine, and Illiam, all of them leaning forward for a better look. Blackwall had built the cradle that stood in the corner, but had not stayed. Cullen paused next to Dorian, who reached out a tentative finger toward one of the little hands and found it clasped quite tightly. His way his mustache trembled on the edge of a smile as his eyes lit up and he, for once, said nothing at all.

"That hair!" Josephine laughed in delight. "I'll have to order ribbons for her."

"She's beautiful, Cullen," The Inquisitor said. "What will you call her?"

"Melori wanted to call her Caro, if she was a girl," he answered, looking back down at the tiny face. "We'll have to decide on the rest soon."

"Caro," Varric smiled. "I remember her. That lanky Chantry scholar who used to run with the Librarian in Haven. It's a good name."

"What do you think, Bull?" The Inquisitor asked, looking over her shoulder to where Bull was leaning against the wall, a strange look on his face.

"I thought she'd be bigger," he answered, then, surprisingly, flushed. "She'd fit in my hands!"

"Do ... you want to hold her?" Cullen asked, surprising himself. He wasn't sure how he felt about handing his child to another person's care, but he trusted these people with his life, they'd never harm his daughter.

"You'd let me?" Bull asked, shocked, but he held out his hands with their rough calluses and scars. "I would love to."

She looked even smaller in the Qunari's huge hands, but he held her so gently - as though she were made of glass - and watched with fascination as she squinted and opened her mouth, a little fist waving in the air. "She looks like Ribbons," he said after a moment. "I thought elf-blooded kids didn't look like their elf parents?"

"Sometimes there a little hints," Josephine answered as he passed the baby delicately to her waiting arms. She knew what she was doing with infants, they found, holding Caro with a practiced, fearless hand and holding her close, smiling and humming a little. "I love babies."

And, eventually, arm to arm and person to person, Dorian finally had her in his arms, and Cullen had a feeling they would never get her back. The Tevinter mage kissed the babies forehead and whispered things in Tevene as he rocked her gently, chuckling as she gripped his finger again. "Uncle Dorian is going to show you so many things," he promised. "Just you wait."