[ It's difficult to see him so worn. It takes her back to another time, another place, when he told her of the horrors he had seen while trapped in his bewitched prison. He is infinitely safer here among friends and allies, people who look up to him and respect him. The pressure is immense, that she cannot deny, but she has every hope that he also takes confidence from those who have faith in him.

She smiles slightly at his admission, letting go only so she can find a chair for herself. She's spent enough time up here with him that there's one in the far corner for her to procure and bring back to the desk, though she also hesitates to rush him.

Instead, she focuses on what she's brought. ]

There's tea, some broth from the kitchen, and bread. I brought some herbs for the tea, something that should relieve your headache for a time.

[ No magic, not unless he allows. She pours herself a cup of tea, not wanting Cullen to feel uncomfortable eating or drinking alone. Maker knows she'd feel on the spot if it were her. Neria sits, giving him a long glance over. ]

How are you feeling?