Sylvanni didn't realize she'd fallen asleep in front of the fire until she woke up to someone setting her down gently on her bed. She made a small noise, blinking as she made out Cullen's features above her in the dim light of her quarters.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I did not mean to wake you. The hall had mostly emptied by the time I realized you'd fallen asleep, and I thought it best that I not disturb you. It was only a short distance to carry you up here."
Her mind immediately latched onto a worry: 'mostly emptied.' Who had seen her, even if there were only a few? It probably wasn't good for her people to see the Inquisitor being carried to bed by the Commander of her armies, like a child having foolishly attempted to stay up past her bedtime. What was done was done, however, and she didn't need to focus on that right now.
"Thank you, Cullen," she said. "That was very kind."
He lowered his head briefly, though whether it was a nod of acknowledgement for her thanks or a small bow as he excused himself, she couldn't say. Perhaps both. "I should leave you to your rest, Inquisitor. Goodnight." He started to walk toward the door.
"Wait, Cullen," she said quickly, feeling her fears begin to rise within her. Alone in her quarters, trapped in solitude. That emptiness gnawing at her from within, those thoughts surrounding her, whispering that nothing about her was real.
She knew the words were spoken in a moment of weakness, but she couldn't face them tonight, not when he was right here. Not when he could keep them at bay. He was real. If there was one thing in her life that was, it came from him. Normally she could steel herself to face her inner demons each night, mentally prepare for her fears, but to wake up and have safety so close, only to let him leave her behind and fall into that darkness… she couldn't do it.
Not tonight.
He paused, looking back. He'd called her by her title - normally the sign between them that their personal time was over - but she'd used his name instead of confirming the farewell with his title. She knew he was considering the implications of that. "Sylvanni?"
"Don't go. Please."
He seemed to consider the request for a long while. They both knew this was dangerous territory. It was night, and she was asking him to stay with her in her quarters. "Is… everything alright?"
"I just…" She sighed. "I don't want to be alone tonight."
His posture shifted: defensive. "I don't know if that would be a good id-"
"Not like that," she said, cutting him off before he could finish saying no. "You're right, that would be a bad idea, so I'm not asking you to do anything improper. But… I need someone here. I can't face myself tonight. I don't think I can handle being alone with my thoughts and I'm afraid if you leave, they'll suffocate me." Her voice was trembling by the end of her plea.
His expression softened into concern as he saw that it was fear, not seduction, which had moved her to call him back. Slowly he walked back, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Sylvanni, what's going on? Are you okay?"
She shook her head gently, embarrassed to find herself close to tears. "I'm afraid, Cullen. Do you ever feel like you're not real? Like you're only pretending to be someone else? Like you've been pretending for so long that you don't remember who you actually are underneath it all?"
Cullen frowned. "You're afraid that you aren't real?"
"I haven't been real since I stepped out of the Fade at Haven," she said, pulling her knees up in a defensive posture and resting her forehead on top of them.
She couldn't see his expression anymore, but his voice sounded concerned. "You think that walking in the Fade, that mark on your hand - you think that changed you? Changed something about who you are?"
"Not in the way that you're thinking," she whispered. "The Inquisition changed me. The responsibility of what everyone needs me to be. What Thedas needs me to be. I told myself at the very beginning that I would do whatever it took to prove I was innocent, and that turned into 'whatever it took to seal the Breach.' Now the Inquisition needs me to do whatever it takes to defeat Corypheus. I can't be myself when the fate of the world is literally in the palm of my hand. I have to be more than that. So much more than that."
"Sylvanni…" He laid a hand on her foot gently.
"I've been wearing this mask for too long now. I don't know who I am when I take it off anymore. What is the real me like, underneath all of this? Does she even exist anymore? What am I going to be when all of this is over? I find myself clinging to what the Inquisitor needs to be like a lifeline, because I'm terrified that one day it will be gone and I'll find nothing but emptiness left in its place. Every night I sit in here, alone and that I might not be anyone. In the quiet of night, I turn to face myself and find nothing but the void."
She raised her head from her legs, searching for something from him - reassurance, comfort, something, anything - and found him moving to embrace her again instead. She didn't have time to uncurl herself, but his arms were long enough to wrap around her, knees and all. He held her tightly, and he felt like strength and silence to her. A foundation to hold to in the storm, and the comfort of true silence, as though his touch had quieted the accusations of her mind, if only for this moment.
It was enough.
No, in the quiet and the emptiness, it was everything.
"I don't know if I have answers, Sylvanni," he said, still holding her tight. "Perhaps those are questions only you can find the solution to. But I will stay beside you as you search for them, as long as you wish me to be here. You don't need to be alone."
"You'll stay tonight?" The question was quiet, hesitant. She knew it was a selfish request, and one that would likely only cause trouble for both of them. If there had been rumors and whispers before, this would only throw fuel on the fire.
"Of course," he said. "As long as you need me."
She let him hold her for a while, then finally started to untuck her legs. He released her, letting her lay down and arrange herself in a sleeping position. He shifted so that he was out of her way, then moved close enough again to softly lay a hand on her back, rubbing a soothing pattern. Quietly he began to hum a song like a lullaby, and she recognized something familiar in the tune. It was the hymn those remnants of the Inquisition had sung after the Battle of Haven, that snowy night in the mountain passes.
She hadn't known the words when they'd sung then, and Cullen didn't sing any now, but the melody brought comfort. She felt she could remember what the song meant, if not what it said. Hope, even in the darkest of times.
She fell asleep feeling safe and whole in her own bed for the first time since this had all began.