Chapter 12: Light of the World
*Trigger warning*
Last warning. This chapter is the start of the discussion of Wren's past. That means some non-con topics and abuse. This will be referenced fairly often in the future, so if you can't handle reading it, this fic might not be for you.
Wren had avoided speaking with any of her inner circle for the rest of the day. From time to time, she would spot Dinall watching her from the stairs, or a rampart as he delivered Josephine's messages and paperwork, and every time she would scurry the opposite direction. It was inevitable that she would have to do as he requested, and tell at least a few of the advisors and such about… her past. That didn't mean she wasn't going to put it off for as long as possible. There was no running forever and unless she went out on the road, leaving her friend to tell everyone in her absence anyway, there would be no escaping. Well, if it had to be done, she might as well start now. With the hardest one.
The door to Cullen's office was closed, but there was still a light on underneath despite the late hour. Insomnia was one of the things they had in common, at least. Knocking lightly, Wren felt as if her skin was trying to crawl away into one corner while her stomach flew off the ramparts from the other.
"Come in."
Taking a breath, she pushed the door open and took a few cautious steps inside. The commander was staring down at some paperwork, pen scratching rapidly in the candlelight. When she didn't make any noise, his brow wrinkled and he started to rebuke whoever he thought was there, only looking up a few words in, "I don't have time to give you permission to- Oh! Lady Trevelyan! I-I didn't realize." He stood, upending his inkwell in his haste, "Maker, all over the Val Royeaux reports." He scrambled to pick up a blotting cloth and mop up the ink before it spread, while Wren took a few steps back towards the door.
"Should- was this a bad time, Commander?"
"What? No! Not at all!" He scrambled to clear off the rest of the papers, then moved around the desk to tackle the pile that occupied the only other chair in the room, "Let me just move these…" He cast around for a suitable place, but Wren interrupted him.
"If it's alright, I was hoping to talk…outside? If you have a minute." She rushed through the last part, not wanting to tear him away from anything important, but unsure if she would ever muster up the courage to do this conversation a second time.
Cullen paused, turning to look at her with an uncomfortable intensity, "Are you alright, m'lady?"
"Yes, I-" She stopped, tugging at the hem of her jacket. The words were difficult, and her voice went soft as she tried to explain, "You once said that you didn't know what happened in my past to make me hate Templars so." Eyes darting up, she was surprised to see caution and rage warring on the Commander's face. Swallowing the hesitation, she continued, "I think… it would be important for you to know.
Pale faced, he set down the papers in his arms and nodded, waiting for her to lead the way. Taking a final deep breath, she turned and led him out along the ramparts. Every time she thought she'd found a quiet place to talk, soldiers would walk by on guard duty, and she would move on. The Commander didn't stop her, didn't ask, and didn't seem impatient- all of which she was immeasurably grateful for. Finally feeling like there was only one option, she turned from the courtyard and headed out the gate. After only a moment's hesitation, her company followed.
It was quiet out here, meandering the paths around Skyhold. With night settling around them there was no risk of running into anyone on the road, and the sentries that wandered these roads were likely settled down around fires right now, watching, but not moving about. Thick fur lining kept the Inquisitor warm, and Cullen had grabbed his heavy cloak on their way out, so neither were suffering from the deep winter around them. If anything, Wren was overheating from nerves. How do you explain this sort of thing?
Mountains surrounded them, guarding Skyhold like loyal hounds. Vast swaths of land and water separated her from her past. It was safe here. She could talk about it here. Who knows, maybe the bastards were dead anyways. Her voice stayed even, almost monotone, as she spoke, and she could feel the commander listening with every ounce of his being from beside her, "I was very young when they gave me to the Circle. Already a thorn in my family's side- rebellious, outspoken, definitely not ladylike- they were more than happy to drop me in the Chantry's lap- with the understanding that my blood might still be useful to the family line, and I would be expected to come play the tame mage from time to time. That wasn't a problem, of course, since my parents donated land, money, and servants along with me. So, I was swept off with other magelings to have my phylactery made and be interred into the Ostwick tower." She remembered that day only vaguely, her young mind more interested in the new world she was seeing than in the politics that were being played with her freedom. "This was some time before Kirkwall, mind you, but it didn't take me long to learn that what made Hawke snap was not an isolated incident, but common practice. Abuse by the Templars was…an understood part of life. True, the lucky circles experienced it only rarely, and their soldiers were punished appropriately, according to the Chantry. My Circle wasn't so lucky. More specifically, the younger mages. We… We were without the protection of our confidence and abilities, and were easily cowed by the larger, more powerful Templars." That was phrasing it lightly.
The older mages of Ostwick had little to do with the younger except for lessons, and even then, they were very strict about how one acted at those times. Any complaints the young ones made about the Templars was met with a harsh glare and a lecture about how lucky mages were that the Templars looked after them instead of simply killing them for being abominations. There were long lectures on the Chantry's view on magic, and always, the idea that Templars were like the hand of the Maker himself- staying the deserved death of a mage out of mercy. Thus, any 'punishment' the Templars meted out was viewed as just and Chantry blessed.
In the long pause, Cullen cleared his throat and spoke softly, "I- I have seen some of the behavior you mention. It is only amplified on the Templar's end, with the insistence that mages are dangerous and little more than barely controlled animals…" His own thoughts stopped him, and Wren dipped her head to acknowledge his comment.
"It is a vicious cycle, and only made worse when those who are supposed to control the Templars are corrupt or never receive your plea." Silence dragged out again between them, and Wren had to push away all emotion- all the fear, all the pain from that day- in order to continue. "It was just after my Harrowing. I was the last of my little group of friends to complete it. We were lucky, really. Not a single one of us was lost to a demon, and none of us were made Tranquil. There was a celebration along with a ceremony. We were all moved up a floor and given private rooms of our own. I… I had forgotten something in my room, a trinket I meant to give to… And a few of the Templars from the lower levels were loitering. Claimed to be tossing the rooms, looking for contraband or some link to the rebellions that were starting in Kirkwall. I didn't recognize one of the men, though later I found out he was a transfer from Kirkwall. Maybe someone you knew." She didn't look at Cullen, but she could feel him tense up.
A cold breeze started up, and Wren realized that they had been stopped for some time- her feet were starting to get cold, despite the wooly socks. With a flick of her hand, she cast a warming rune, like the one Solas had cast that morning, at their feet. The heat melted the snow quickly, then created a little pocket of still, warm air for them to bask in. It wouldn't last long, but there wasn't much left to the story. Not that she was willing to say, at least.
"I tried to brush past them and ignore their jeering. Two of them followed me into my room. I continued to ignore them. They started talking about my body, how it looked during the Harrowing when I was twisting and fighting in the Fade. I ignored them. Then one of them grabbed me, and my temper snapped. I… I had already had a few drinks. I wasn't in as much control of my magic as I should have been. I've always been known for my fire…" It was a quip from before the fall of Haven, their little spat and Cullen's later compliment of her inner fire. But it fell flat between them, given the gravity of the current subject. Cullen made a sound, like a grunt of disgust or annoyance, but Wren continued, not wanting to hear him admonish her for losing her temper. "I burned him. Not badly, but enough. When he yelled, the others came. They held me down. Said I needed to be taught my place. Needed to learn how to be humble. To be grateful. The one I burned… was the first. I think they each had a go. I'm not sure. I woke up, my dress soaked in blood, in the dungeon a few hours later. Curt and Dinall found me and demanded my release. I think the only reason the Senior Enchanter let me out was because the blood was attracting rats, and he hated rats." She couldn't continue. Not because of her own emotions, but because Cullen looked like he was going to either throw up, or hit something. Wren felt numb. Empty. She had only told the story once, and that was to a Second Enchanter while begging to have the Templars that assaulted her be dealt with by Seekers. Nothing ever came of that plea, but the fall of the Circles came shortly after that, and Wren and her little family of mages were able to flee the horrors of the tower.
After a few minutes where Cullen struggled with himself, he finally seemed to gain control, "Maker. How can you stand to be around me? I… if I had known, I wouldn't have pushed to have the Templars join the Inquisition."
She watched him with dispassionate eyes, before offering him a small smile of sympathy. "You don't sing, like the other Templars. I can barely hear the lyrium in you. Besides," she turned away, wanting to get back to the keep and out of the cold, "when our Circle fell and the Templars came after us, my family took care of the ones who did that to me."
"Dinall?"
She nodded, "Yes. He would heal them a little in between, so that Curt and the others could continue. It took three days for those men to die."
There was a long silence and they reached the bridge before the Commander made another sound. "Good."
The next morning's retelling of the story to Cassandra and Leliana (Wren hadn't wanted to speak interrupt Josephine's meeting with a visiting noble), was not as calm. Both women asked questions, cursed, and wanted details about who had been in charge at her Circle. Cassandra seemed of the same opinion as Cullen, that the Templars had deserved the fate the young mages gave them. Leliana however, grew quiet and stormy. When Cassandra prodded the spymaster, she said only that had her people been able to deal with those men, the three days would have seemed like a mercy. Wren forced both women to promise not to pursue it further, but she did agree with Leliana's request after some debate. The bard wanted to spread the story, carefully and quietly of course, to some of those who still operated in the Circle or who were still advocating for the Inquisition's mages to be forced into Circles again. When the women explained that her story could help prevent other such tragedies, she cringed, but accepted it.
When the telling was done and her tears dried (for it had not been so easy this time and she had lost her composure more than once), Wren was grateful for Cassandra's offer to discuss it with any others that were deemed important enough to have that information.
Leliana looked stricken after a moment, "Oh Maker. What about Cullen?"
Before they could start worrying, Wren interrupted, "No, I told him last night." Both women regarded her in blatant shock. "I… I didn't think it would be right, him hearing it from someone else…"
They seemed to understand, and Cassandra asked, "Is there anyone else you wish to tell in person?"
Wren though a moment, "Obviously, Dinall already knows. Cole I think knows, or will soon enough. I wouldn't be sure how to explain it to him anyways." Cassandra made a muffled snort of amusement, before Wren sighed, rubbing her temple, "It is probably… best… if I tell Solas. I think he suspects, but…"
Leliana nodded, "I am sure he would appreciate hearing it directly from you."
The Seeker shook her head, "I would not have wanted to be the one to tell him." She eyed Wren critically, "He is more protective of you than even the Commander." Not sure what she could say to that, she gave them both a dip of her head and left the room, heading for Solas' rotunda.
Dinall and Cole were waiting for her, the latter looking shocked and the former looking shamefaced. Sighing, she signaled them both to follow her and turned to the staircase the led to her quarters instead.
Cole dogged her footsteps, and as soon as she knew there was no one nearby, he started speaking, "I don't understand. Why use something meant for good, for punishment? How is that right? They hurt the ones they were supposed to protect. They should have been punished. They were. But they should have been stopped."
Sighing, she made her way to the fireplace and sat down on the thick bear fur rug, "It is a failing of people, Cole. They take things that are good and twist them into something bad. Like a poison in the form of an action." The spirit shook his head, eyes wide as he tried to wrap his mind around the concept.
Dinall stayed at the top of the stairs, watching her with regret, "I did not mean to have you go about the telling all in one day, Sidas."
Wren shook her head, brushing a few straying curls from her face, "It was better this way. Now it will be done, and I can leave it behind."
Cole's hand snapped out and grabbed hers, his voice tinged with panic, "No! You can't leave it! It will fester and rot. It was part of what was hurting you before, but I couldn't see it because of the tangle around it. This is good. It is in the open now and I can help unravel it!" He stood abruptly, pulling her to her feet too, "There is only one more to tell. He will be the worst. He cares so much. Too much. But you must do it here. This place is yours. It's safe. And he will stay calmer here." Dropping her hand, he moved towards the stairs and around Dinall, disappearing again.
The older mage eyed her, "You hadn't told Solas, yet?" Wren shook her head slowly and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, still facing the fire. "Kaffas… He will bring the whole keep down. I hope Cole is right about this room." Giving her one last, long look, he shook his head, "I'll stay at the door at the bottom, and keep anyone from coming up."
Is Solas truly that protective of me? Or that terrifying? She just couldn't see it, not Solas. Yes, they cared for each other, there was no denying that and no reason to. And yes, he was a powerful mage. But everyone spoke of Solas' wrath like it was something terrifying. Were they seeing something she was not? There was no question about telling him, and part of her wished that she had sought him out first, but she felt like she had missed something crucial about him that everyone else had seen.
The soft, familiar steps of her elven companion roused her, and she looked up at him with wide, curious eyes. He stood at the edge of the railing, his elegant fingers barely touching it, one foot trailing a little and the heel still lifted. His eyes were searching her- face, body, hands, the room- as if looking for something wrong. Ah, so Cole hadn't told him what it was about, only that Wren needed him. She took a shuddering breath in, her voice barely a whisper spoken into the night, "Solas…"
She barely saw him close the distance between them. One moment he was across the room, the next he'd taken three giant strides to stand before her, his fingers ghosting her cheek, "You have been crying, Da'ean'ma." It was not a question, nor even a statement. It was an accusation that left the question 'who has caused this?' unnecessary to ask.
Sighing, she turned her head a little so that his fingers brushed across her lips before answering, "Yes, Hahren. It has been… a trying day. And night."
"Is that why you did not sleep?"
There was no surprise that he knew that, she had begun to suspect, after their adventure in the Fade, that he had spied on her dreams in the past. "Yes, Hahren." Goosebumps broke out over her flesh as she contemplated the discussion they were about to have. Fingers traveled down her arm, hesitating a moment before taking her hand and giving a soft tug to get her to her feet. She followed him to the bear rug she had just been sitting at, and folded her legs beneath her. When he settled down however, it was behind her, and he pushed her hips forward and pulled her shoulders back until she got the hint and with an almost humorless chuckle, she complied. Shuffling forward she laid down on the rug, her head pillowed on his folded legs. His fingers stroked her hair, and she closed her eyes, listening to the fire pop and the wind rise and fall outside.
"Tell me." A command, not a request. Already she could hear the icy edge to his voice. Perhaps the others were right to worry.
Never the less, she told him.
Her words rose and fell and she found herself going into far more detail than she had with the others. She told him about how it felt to be taken to the Circle, and the first time a Templar hit her for the 'insubordination' of looking at him wrong. The worries and fears before her Harrowing, and the way the some of the Templars hissed as she walked passed the names of those who had not survived. Only Dinall knew more, and that was because he had seen much of it with his own eyes.
Every time her breath hitched, Solas' fingers would brush across her shoulders. Every time she paused to regain composure, he would whisper words in such an ancient elven dialect that she could only understand the encouragement they offered, not the words themselves. Only when she arrived at the violation itself did he pause, his whole body tensing and his fingers frozen on her cheek. Wren's eyes opened and she stared up at her companion's face, worried that she would see judgement or anger or disgust, any of those, directed down at her. Instead, what she saw made her think that perhaps… the others had underestimated Solas' reaction.
There was no way to describe the cold rage in his eyes. They reflected the firelight the same way a wolves do, but this was no wild companion come to share the heat. This was a violent predator, ready to tear down his prey and eviscerate it for the sin of existing. "H-hahren?"
"Finish it." The words were hissed out through gritted teeth and his eyes stared into the fire. She hesitated, but the growl of his words pushed her, "Tell me."
She flinched, and his fingers immediately brushed her cheek again as if in apology. Taking a deep breath, she continued- telling him about the dungeon, and her eventual release. When she told him about the capture of those Templars after the fall of the Circle, a growl rumbled from his chest and he tipped her chin back so that she was looking at him. "Did they scream?" She nodded, hearing the sound within her. "Was it enough for you?" She shook her head, feeling guilt for her rage boiling in her stomach. His brow furrowed as if he could see it and he shook his head, "Do not regret your anger. What those monsters did to you is nothing compared to three meager days of near death. The only regret you should have is that they are already dead, and thus, out of my reach."
Lip quirked, she sat up and turned a little towards him, "Leliana said much the same."
One of his eyebrows shot up and he tipped his head, "You told her?"
"Yes…"
"And Cassandra?"
"...Yes."
There was a pause, then- "I am the last you have told." His voice was flat, and Wren could not tell if he was angry or disappointed or hurt.
"I… Yes. You were the last of those that I have personally told."
"Cullen." Another demand for an answer.
"The first. Last night."
"Ah. That is why you did not sleep then. You opened the wound, but had not washed it out." Now he sounded satisfied, and Wren looked up at him again in confusion. He had an almost smug look to his face. But he was correct. Last night everything had been too raw to even consider sleeping. Nightmares were stalking her mind while she was awake, and surely the memories that were haunting her would have called every demon in these mountains. But now… It hurt, but like a freshly wrapped wound. It was clean and sterile, and it could begin healing properly.
Movement caught her eye, and she felt Solas lean against her before she realized he had scooted up to be beside her. She leaned back against him, letting out a sigh of relief when his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders. "Sleep now, Da'ean'ma. I will keep the demons at bay." There was so much confidence in his voice that she could not help but believe him. Head resting on his shoulder, she closed her eyes and let herself relax until sleep finally claimed her.
[AN: I LIIIIIIVVEE! Ok, sorry about the nearly yearlong absence. Good news- it's Camp Nanowrimo again, so I have incentive to write! Better news- I have a ton of little vingettes for the future, and lots of fun plot bunnies. Best news- you got an update and will get more soon! I mean… assuming life doesn't hate on me for a while. Anyways, I hope to get updates on Rise and If Only as well, but my main desire is for this fic to get lots of attention and maybe be finished by the end of the month… Maybe. Nanowrimo is great incentive.
Also! If anyone knows how to format these stupid things so that FF doesn't get rid of my time separations (especially on the mobile app), I would really appreciate it if you'd drop me a line. Formatting is not my strong suit.
SNEAK PREVIEW! Here's a tiny glimpse from the future, for being so good to me and returning to this fic!]
Solas paused, releasing her hand but keeping his eyes locked on hers. Carefully, he unhooked the clasps on his robes, and slid them down his arms, letting them pool at his feet. Wren's eyes roved his chest and stomach hungrily. While not the first time she'd seen him without a shirt or robe, it was always a pleasure and a surprise to see his lithe muscles shifting beneath his pale skin. He still had his leather breeches, but he left those on in favor of reaching for her. As he undid each clasp of her leather armor, she could feel her heart rate raise up little by little. Of their own accord, her fingers slid up his sides, dancing along the skin. She reveled in each little flutter of his chest and breathy gasp that her touch caused, and so distracted was she by it that she didn't immediately realize when he'd divested her of her top and breastband until she felt them 'thump' into a pile behind her. Her eyes darted up to his, worried about what he would think. Never before had she been without a top around him, and the scars that worked their jagged way across her skin made her fear that he would view her as tainted.
Bright eyes, shining with some deep emotion, met hers- he'd never looked away from her face. "You are beautiful." He murmured to her, his fingers still moving to unlace the rest of her leathers as he leaned forward to capture her mouth with his. Peace was something so rarely felt anymore that Wren barely knew what to do with it. The feel of his lips as they moved across her face and down her neck, teeth scraping gently at the top of her shoulder, had her sighing and whimpering softly. Finally, the last bit of cloth hiding her from him fell to the sand. At some point, he must have done the same for himself because as he started to guide her backwards towards the water, her hands came up to his hips to steady her steps, and were met with bare skin.
His voice whispered a constant stream of elven in her ear as their feet splashed into the spring-fed pool, sweet nothings that she barely understood or barely heard, but their meaning was clear enough. What fear or worry was left in her melted with his words and gentle touches along her back and sides. The elf led them deeper until the water lapped at her chest. With a gentle push he turned her around so that she faced away from him. "Lean back, Da'ean'ma. Let your body float." There was a moment's hesitation from her until he whispered in her ear, "Elasa ar manhimem ma. Ar novena manhimem ma. Sathan, vhenan…"
