A/N: Elvhen translations coutesty of Project Elvhen on AO3!

Vhenan = Heart
Sathan = Please

Chapter 2
Thaw

Adhlea watches Cole leave and stares down at her hands, nervously wringing themselves as she hears Cullen move from where he was standing. It's time for her to remedy this properly. Slowly, she rises from her desk and moves to one of the bookshelves nearby. She withdraws an old tome bound in worn leather, the pages dog-eared and moss green around the edges. It smells of elfroot and moss and when she opens it to the page she wanted she can pick out every single indentation. Every slight imperfection in the paper where dozens of hands had touched it. Every little scratch in the paper wrought by a dry quill. The Elvhen, written in a faded black ink, flows like a tributary amongst the ebbing peaks and troughs of the roughly pressed paper.

"Before I left for the Conclave," she begins, fingers skimming the lettering. "I was next in line to become my clan's First. They preserve the old ways of our people, telling stories and protecting the clan. They are the first port of call for any judgement passed or advice given. I knew my role there. I was to train under the Keeper and succeed her when she passed on. I had not planned for anything grander to happen,"

She pauses to give him a cursory glance and finds him staring. Intent, patient, understanding. His eyes plead with her, coaxing her.

Maker, please, let me in.

"It might not have been so different as Inquisitor. People come to me for advice and judgement and I have to watch over my inner circle as I would my clan. However, the trials I've faced thanks to Corypheus and his wretched Anchor have been nothing short of devastating,"

She hears her voice waver as visions of Corypheus' future flashed before her eyes. She hadn't seen Cullen at the castle but had heard. He had given everything and everyone he had to this cause. That Cullen in the future had to lead alone. Without her. Without Lelianna. Without Josephine. All because she had failed. Her success determined the fate of Thedas, the world, and that was far and away more intimidating a role than being Keeper. She hears Cullen approach, but her eyes are fixed on the page before her, her eyes stinging with the threat of tears when she finds the roughly sketched halla she had penned one day in a fit of boredom. The Keeper had tried to reprimand her, telling her that it was not just her property but the entire clans, and found that the innocence of a child and their idle hands were better guided than punished. Keeper Deshanna had been wise and firm in her teachings. Adhlea finds herself wondering what her teacher would say about her predicament now. She had confided in her instructor, always, so why did she shy away from her lover now?

"Your reports have always troubled me, love," Cullen frowns, hand finding the crook of her arm. "But there are things I know you've seen and not shared. Why?"

She tries to laugh but only a choked cough comes. She feels a pang of guilt for leaving so much out, in both her reports and her words, but how could she remain sane and continue to relay every little detail? She doesn't realise she's crying until she feels a tear crest her cupid's bow.

"Why would I make myself relive it beyond what I already have to every day?" she answers, a tear dripping from her chin and permeating the bottom of the page. "More importantly, why should I make others live through it too? I know what I saw and I know it must be stopped. Beyond that, what do I gain from dragging others into my misery?"

"Do you think I should have not told you about Ferelden's Circle?" Cullen protests. "Or, perhaps, should I have told nobody about the fact that I no longer took lyrium? Should I have not told you more about my time in Kirkwall? Adhlea, you would not expect me to face those hardships alone. Do not expect it of yourself,"

Adhlea's been staring at the same page since she had opened the book. It is a page on Sylaise, the Hearthkeeper. She knows it by heart, but it keeps her eyes busy before the haze of budding tears obscures her vision. She offers no resistance as Cullen takes the book from her hands and reaches out to wipe her cheeks, forehead pressing against her own as gloved fingertips rub slow circles at her temples.

"Vhenan," he breathes. "Sathan,"

His pronunciation is awkward and stilted but the words still carry their intended weight. Her hands come up to overlap his own and at some point, her resistance crumbles altogether. Something within her snaps, and then she's weeping. Tears cascade over her vallas'lin and Cullen's hands chase them away, pulling her to him and allowing her to hide her face in the feathers of his pauldron. All he can do is hold her until the sobbing ebbs and gasping breaths comes to a gradual stop. The ex-templar had suffered plenty up until this point; his life had not been an easy one. However, seeing his love - his soulmate - reduced to this was worse than any agony he had endured prior to this. He shushes her, strokes her hair and gently rubs her back but the sound of her agony wounds him more than any blade had done. When she finally speaks her voice is a whisper of what he knows; that unbridled strength and resilience falling to reveal the very mortal woman underneath.

"Cullen, I'm terrified," she admits, voice slightly muffled by the pauldron. "I've seen the future where I fail, and the world is torn asunder. I've walked within the Fade and seen that Corypheus knows exactly what I fear. I look to the people here and they stare at me with such reverence, such hope, that it scares me and humbles me all at once. They look to me, one of the Dalish, to save them but what if I can't? What if I fail? What if all of this goes to hell and it's because I make one wrong decision?"

He feels her fingertips desperately gripping the back of his shoulders and it's all he can do to not start weeping himself. Adhlea had never once questioned her duty or her purpose. She had thrown herself into this Inquisition and taken on the role without a complaint. She had been hailed as a surprisingly adept diplomat and a loyal companion. Bit by bit, she was changing the world around her. Mending it. She never thought to take any time to mend herself.

"Adhlea, darling, love," he whispers, his hand rubbing the back of her neck. "Maker, I wish you'd spoken to me about this sooner. If not me, then Dorian, Varric, someone. You were never meant to carry all of this alone,"

She still doesn't resist as he bends slightly, hooking his arm around the back of her knees and lifting her effortlessly. It feels like there simply is no fight left in her anymore and it breaks his heart all over again.

"When was the last time you slept?" he asks as he lays her down on her bed.

"Properly?"

"Properly,"

"Weeks. Nightmares hound me, chase me. It's all I can do to stay awake to try and to meditate instead,"

"Love," he sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed as he removes his boots. "I understand what it's like to have dreams like those, I do, but you cannot force yourself like that. If you want to succeed and stop Corypheus like you say you must then you cannot burn yourself down to the wick like this,"

She turns her head to watch him as he undresses down into his tunic and breeches, eyes flitting to the medley of scars that decorated his arms. She's so weary, so very tired, but how can she sleep when all she sees when she closes her eyes is death and ruin? It consumes her thoughts so the next noise from her mouth is a squeak of surprise when Cullen starts removing the armor she had neglected to remove upon her return. The normally shy commander moved with certainty and assuredness, finding each clasp and buckle easily.

"You're sleeping tonight, Adhlea," he states, leaving no room for argument. "You're sleeping in this bed tonight and so am I. Then, in the morning, you will eat and bathe, then proceed to tell me everything you've seen. From the beginning. In full detail,"

Could she even argue anymore? Cole had revealed everything she was too frightened to say herself and now she finds herself being laid completely bare in front of Cullen despite her still having so much to say. He knows now; knows how deep her suffering goes. He would never let her keep anything from him again. Was it truly better this way? Creators, she had forgotten how soft her pillows were. Dorian had said that the sheets were Antivan silk, too. Was that why it felt so luxurious against her skin? She could certainly see why they were prized so highly when Cullen helped her under them before crawling in beside her. One strong arm props him up on his side and he scans her face, worried about her lack of protest.

"Adhlea?"

"Hm?"

"You're very quiet. Unnervingly so, considering the circumstances,"

Golden eyes meet copper and there's silence for a moment more. She can't help but smile softly to herself as her fingers reach up to try and smooth the concerned wrinkles on his forehead.

"What is there to say, vhenan? I know you're right. It pains me, but I know when I'm beat. Truly, I'm one big walking contradiction; so intent on success that I'll destroy myself in the process. It doesn't make sense, does it? No, I know when to listen to reason. I cannot promise you I'll sleep, but I will try. Then, in the morning, I hope with all my heart that I can tell you everything. Honestly, I do. Perhaps I can even start before the Inquisition? I never did tell you about my clan,"

Cullen smiles as he notices her eyelids begin to droop, weeks of exhaustion starting to claim her. He lowers himself down beside her, pulls her flush against his chest, and begins tracing slow circles between her shoulder-blades. He feels her relax a little against him, nose brushing the side of his neck.

"I would like that," he agrees. "Very much, I think,"

Then she's gone, fast asleep in his arms. Despite his own trepidation when it came to sleep, Cullen follows close behind her. That night, neither of them dream at all and in the morning Adhlea eats, bathes, then proceeds to tell Cullen everything she's seen. In full detail.