Solas walked into Skyhold's library, borrowed tomes in hand. He had just finished reading one of volumes he had selected the other day and hadn't realized the hour. It was late and the candles burned low making the library nearly completely dark. The shadows hung thick like years-old spider webs.
Across the tower circle, he saw a table, brightly aglow with fresh candles. The people at Skyhold usually stole sleep whenever they could which meant the Library was usually empty this late. Whoever it was must have something important to do. Or perhaps they had just gotten caught up in a book and forgot the rest of the world.
He put away the borrowed books and made his way to the table.
A sharp pang pierced his heart when he saw who was at the table. Akhaja was stooped low over a parchment, quill in hand, vigorously writing and deeply intent. She was bent so low that he could not see her face, and her fingers around the quill were white. Her hair was disheveled and unwashed. Solas had seen her like this when they were on the road but she kept up her appearance at Skyhold usually. He approached the table.
"Inquisitor," he said gently, his voice heavy with sympathy.
"Not now, Solas, I'm busy." She didn't even look at him. The sound of her pen scraping against the parchment was like a sword against a whetstone.
"Can this not wait till morning?" He sighed.
"There is much to be done." She replied, her voice sounded weary.
"Other people can handle the paperwork." He tilted his head to the side, trying to get a better angle on her face.
"Some things only the Inquisitor can do. I have responsibilities." Akhaja sounded irritated now.
"Akhaja," Solas said, his voice near pleading. He leaned over the table and put his hand on hers to still her writing.
She finally looked up at him, her warm, green eyes bloodshot and wild. In the candlelight her cheeks gathered darkness deeper than before, her eyes were heavy and full of shadows, her lips pale. He had heard rumors that the Inquisitor had not slept in days, but he usually paid no heed to them. They came from the mouths of those that mistakenly named her 'Andraste's chosen'. But it seemed that this time the rumors were true.
"You will burn yourself out." He stared at her, trying to communicate how worried he was.
Akhaja eyed his hand, "I have to keep going, the world entire world depends on me."
"If you do not sleep at some point, you will not be alive to save it." He stood straight up and put his hands behind his back.
"I can't sleep because when I sleep, I dream and-" she cut herself off abruptly and looked away.
Her words hit him like a giant's club to the chest. He looked down at his feet in shame. This was his fault.
"I-I could cast a spell, if you like," he sputtered out awkwardly.
"No," she said before all his words were out, standing up sharply. "No, I'll be fine. Goodnight, Solas."
"Goodnight, Inquisitor." His heart fell as she brushed past him and descended the stairs, leaving the writing unfinished.
He would not be sleeping tonight either.