"Talk to her."
"What?"
Cullen looked up from the map on the war table; they'd been discussing the upcoming plans now that they Templars had been recruited. They hadn't yet arrived, having their own dealings to sort before leaving Therinfal Redoubt, but the Herald and her party already returned a couple days ago.
Leliana stood across from him, keeping her eyes on the Commander and ignoring his fiddling with the metal map pieces.
"I know you do not like speaking of it," she began, "but you are the only one here who has an idea of what she went through."
He broke his gaze, looking back down and resting his palms on the table. His cheeks took on a shade a pink, as did the tips of his ears.
"I can't."
Her boots clicked against the stone floor as she adjusted her stance to mirror his.
"She won't discuss what happened beyond what she shared in the report," she reminded him. "She's holding it in. She's the face of the Inquisition. We need her mind clear."
A sigh was his only response for a time. His eyes darted from piece to piece, and his cheeks burned brighter.
"I… You're right."
"I know I am," she replied, offering an encouraging smile. "You don't have to share your experience. She only needs to know you understand."
"All right," he said. He let out another sigh and pushed off the table, leaving Leliana alone in the war room.
Rosalayn sat on the bed she'd first woken up in after attempting to seal the Breach. The Inquisition decided to leave the whole cabin to her alone; it was easier to guard, and Josephine insisted the Herald deserved privacy, foreseeing the chaos that would surround her as the rumors of her divine savior circulated.
Having guards standing outside her door reminded her of being back in the Circle, but it was comforting knowing they were there to protect her from the outside, and not the other way around.
Her fingertips plucked the strings of the lute Maryden let her borrow; she played a simple song her aunt had taught her when she was a child, but there was little heart behind the tune.
The usual sounds of Haven were simply white noise, but she always caught the sound of someone walking up the steps near her cabin. It was a nice warning, and it gave her a few moments to perk up, or at least appear to.
When she heard the sound of heavy boots on the cold wood, Rosalayn took a deep breath and continued playing the lute, trying to breathe life into the dark circles under her eyes.
"Commander," one of the guards greeted, her voice muffled.
"I'm here… Herald. …in?" was all Rosalayn could make out.
The knock on her door was more obvious.
"Come in," she called out, strumming a few notes before putting the lute down next to her.
There was a pause before the door creaked open.
"Heral–Rose," he said.
She smiled, thankful he remembered her request. She understood being called Herald in front of the refugees and Inquisition forces, but she wanted the title dropped in private.
The commander stood in front of her, rubbing the back of his neck. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed and pushed the lute behind her.
"Do you, uh, want to sit?" she offered, gesturing to the desk chair.
"Sure," he replied. He pulled the chair out and sat; his discomfort was palpable.
Neither spoke for a few moments, and the awkwardness grew unbearable.
"So," Rosalayn began, drawing out the 'o.' "What, uh, brings you by? Is it about the Templars? Did something happen?"
"No!" he quickly assured. Cullen leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and intertwining his fingers. "Last we heard, their travel is going smoothly. I came to just, er… talk."
She raised a brow. "Okay… about what?"
"Therinfal Redoubt," he said, letting out a sigh. "I just… wanted to see if you were all right."
"I'm fine," she responded, a little too quickly. "It shook me a bit, but I'm fine."
His brows furrowed a bit, and his lips parted to sigh. "I–I read the report."
"Obviously," Rosalayn said, forcing a smile. "What about it?"
"When the demon was… You only spoke of what the demon had planned," he said, not meeting her gaze. "Taking your form, the assassination, the demon army. In my–what I've read about demons… they take what's personal and use it against you."
He paused and glanced up at Rosalayn who was watching him, unblinking. Her fingers were folded together in her lap, twisting, and popping when just enough pressure was placed on the joints.
"You hadn't mentioned anything like that i-in the report," he finished.
She remained silent, still watching him, remembering something her Aunt Lucille told her. 'If you're lying, keep eye contact. Looking away means you're not sure of your own words.'
"I shared all that happened," she told him, sounding more curt than confident.
"Rose," Cullen said, exasperated, whether at her or himself, Rosalayn didn't know. "Having a demon inside your mind… it takes a strong person to walk away from that. And you are."
"What are you getting at, Cullen?" she demanded.
In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to disappear under the covers of her bed and pretend she alone again. Alone with her own thoughts of the Envy demon, alone with her own nightmares. It seemed Cullen wouldn't let her so easily.
"I-I'd rather not go into detail," he explained, "but I understand. Demons, they… reach for anything they feel they can use against you. And an Envy demon would certainly do so more fervently than most."
He leaned further forward, still holding her gaze.
"Whatever it showed you, whatever it made you feel, it wasn't real," he insisted. "It was a twisted form of your reality. Trust me, I've… I've felt that manipulation, and it changes you. I refused to speak of it–I still do–but it can't be ignored. It festers. It breaks you. It…"
Cullen sighed and let his head fall, breaking their eyes' hold. The tips of his ears were red; he'd gotten himself worked up, Rosalayn noticed.
"If you want or need to speak to someone who understands," he began, his eyes back on hers. "I'm here for you."