CHAPTER 21 – Old Books
Why the Warden Commander really went into the West and a bargain
WARNING: this chapter includes mentions of thoughts of self-harm.
At lunch, Rylen was seated next to Timur while Surana's meal companion was a Ferelden arlessa. The two women spoke politely, but briefly and without warmth, and Rylen made a mental note of the woman's face as someone to avoid. Surana said very little in general, her attention turned inward, though she smiled briefly at Rylen when she noticed him feeding bits of warm rye bread to an appreciative Timur.
Near the end of lunch, Rylen leaned over Timur and spoke quietly. "Warden Commander, the Commander wants to meet with us after lunch if you're free."
"Of course, Knight Captain." From the barely disguised relief in her voice, Rylen estimated that she was more than a little wary of the arlessa, adding to his sense that the Fereldan noble was potentially dangerous.
However, all distraction vanished and Surana and Timur abruptly shifted to an intent alertness as he led her toward the lower level of the keep and into the small library that had held old books and the remains of old books when the Inquisition had arrived. Debris and the most damaged books had been cleaned away, and it was now often used for small, private meetings, particularly when people wanted to avoid the interruptions all too common in the advisors' offices or the war room. Surana was clearly a bit curious at their choice of location for the meeting, but otherwise seemed unphased.
Cullen was leaning against the desk, waiting for them, and both men observed curiously as Surana frowned at the stone floor, then took off her coat and spread it out wordlessly next to a chair for Timur to lie on. Only once he was settled comfortably did she take the chair and look between the two men questioningly.
"Surana, we know you were pressed into leadership with the Grey Wardens almost overnight and with no actual training in leading combat troops. You may not believe us, but what you've managed to learn about that on your own is extraordinary. But..." Cullen rubbed the back of his neck for a moment before he seemed to remember himself, "well, if you won't take it wrong, we think that there may be a few things no one ever thought to warn you about."
"I don't understand, what do you mean?"
Rylen spoke bluntly, "You don't leave people in the field who are seeing a lot of combat for too long."
"Why not?" Timur chose that moment to rest his head in her lap, distracting her from staring at them too closely as she began stroking his head absently.
"Too many alarms and deaths, too much combat and killing, particularly when it's a really bad situation…after a while, it's more than a soldier can take if they're pushed too far. Some stop caring and some of those will go bad and start taking it out on anyone they can reach. Others start drinking heavily or try to escape in other ways. Most of the time, those could have been avoided, but they're easy enough to spot early when they happen and sometimes all they need is a little time away from combat. But when someone has a particularly strong will, sometimes they can resist and hide what's going on, and those are the ones we worry about the most." Rylen's words were matter-of-fact, his attention on the sheet of paper he held, but the woman's hand slowed on Timur's head.
"Why?"
"Because the longer they hide and appear to be able to continue normally, the more damage they do to themselves, particularly if they are in command and take that command seriously. Eventually, if they hide long enough, they break, and the best that can be hoped for then is that they simply freeze up in an emergency and someone else reacts in time."
"And the worst case?" Her words came slowly and in a low voice, her hand and face now frozen, her eyes fixed on Rylen.
"We lose people, sometimes the person gets others killed, sometimes the person…makes sure that can't happen." Cullen had chosen to let Rylen make the initial explanations, but now he spoke softly and evenly. "Surana, between the time Duncan conscripted you and you left with Timur on this trip, what was the longest you stayed out of the field, out of potential combat?"
"I…can't remember. Two days? Maybe three a couple of times?" She now stared at Cullen, frozen in place. "Even when I visited Denerim or Fergus, there was always something they needed help with…. How…how do you know when there's a problem?"
"A lot depends on the person. That person withdraws, stops spending time with friends, loses or gains weight, tries to isolate themselves, becomes irritable, complains of being tired or looks tired. They begin doubting themselves, question even their best decisions and actions, try to control things personally more and more often, or blame themselves for every death or injury. He or she clearly begins believing that nothing they've done matters."
Surana had become a silent statue, staring at him even after Timur shifted to take her hand in his mouth. The two ex-Templars had debated the best way to broach the subject with her the day before, finally agreeing that she valued honesty and would accept it better if they asked her directly. But at some level, both he and Rylen had worried that she would take offense or storm off, refusing to discuss their concerns at all, and he'd mostly felt relief at first that she was listening so calmly. But the way she stared, her face a mask concealing whatever thoughts were passing through her mind, all of it began to scare him a little. Silently, he gave Rylen a signal with his hand, and the other man went to the door of the library, standing just outside with the door closed as they'd agreed earlier to make certain no one entered. Cullen continued to hold the woman's eyes.
The door had barely closed behind Rylen when Surana slid out of the chair to her knees, arms wrapping around Timur with her face buried against his broad, grey neck, and the old mabari's cloudy eyes fixed on Cullen's face silently. Finally, she spoke quietly without moving, words muffled by her guardian's neck.
"You…how did you…?"
"I didn't, not for certain. Most of those things alone we might not have noticed. But there were too many little things that bothered me. How tired you said you were…how tired and defeated you still look when you don't think anyone's watching. All those scars from times you didn't heal yourself completely, as if you didn't care what happened to you. The way you talked about your mistakes and how much you doubted yourself despite everything you've accomplished. The note in your voice when you said you wanted to take Timur back into the wilderness alone. How Timur stays so close to you constantly, even for a mabari."
Her shoulders moved briefly with what he realized was a brief bark of humorless laughter. "I had no idea I was being so obvious. So much for my acting ability."
"Any one of those, or even a few, might be coincidence, and it isn't as if you knew they might mean anything to anyone else." He spoke gently. "I'm rather glad you didn't guess those things might suggest something to us so you didn't manage to hide even longer."
Cullen waited patiently, knowing the next step had to be her choice. "I didn't plan to come back, you know. During the blight, everything was so urgent, but we knew what we needed to do; kill the archdemon, or die in the attempt, that would be the end of it, right? And the blight ended, but the war didn't, not for me. At first, I thought, just help restore order, clean up the darkspawn on the surface, then I could rest a little, take a breath and actually see what life outside the Circle, life as a Grey Warden, was like. Except the darkspawn kept raiding and one crisis followed another. And another. And another. And I realized that the war never stops for the Wardens.
"The first two or three years were hard, but I didn't really notice any problems. But then, every decision I made that cost a life, every time we lost another warden or recruit, I grew a little more tired until I felt exhausted through to my bones, then every decision, every fight, I had to force myself to keep going." She shrugged, her face still hidden. "It was worst right after we lost someone in the Joining…I'd chosen the wrong person and they died for nothing. My mistake, my guilt, another face to point a finger at me in my dreams. Finally, I thought…I thought I was turning into a coward or maybe going mad. And I knew…I couldn't stay without putting my Wardens at risk. Sooner or later I would freeze in the middle of a fight or when they needed a decision in an emergency, and people would die because I hesitated."
"Sometimes I never want to make another decision again…" Cullen cursed himself and the fog of lyrium withdrawal that had made him forget those words until now.
"But Fereldan would never just let me walk away and I couldn't…I couldn't admit to anyone… I hated myself because I had to fight to do anything, all those things that had come so easily for so long. Finally I thought it would be best for everyone if I was…if I was dead." Surana spoke emotionlessly, but oh! The exhaustion in her voice. "But I was afraid the Wardens would think they were the reason, and how would they explain if people started asking questions? And Fergus would have. And Zevran and Leliana, once they heard. I could have left a letter, but…how would I tell them that their hero was a coward? I may hate it, but I can't pretend that that sodding legend doesn't give people hope. So…I started planning an 'accident.' Investigate something on the edge of a high, sheer cliff, a gust of wind comes along, who would ever suspect I summoned the wind myself? Or if they did, they would only have suspicions." She fell silent finally, and after a few moments he prompted her gently, trying to keep either pity or anger from his voice.
"What happened?"
Andraste preserve us, how could the wardens, how could everyone who knew her have missed this!
"Timur." She raised her face from the mabari's neck, gazing into her old friend's eyes. "I had everything worked out and was alone in my quarters while he watched, putting my things in order without making it look intentional. Finally he got up and dropped a journal into my lap and just sat staring at me." The elven woman stroked Timur's head gently as their eyes stayed locked. "It was the journal I'd used to gather all the clues to a possible cure for the Joining and as he stared at me, I finally realized that if I had gone over that cliff, he'd have followed, and that…that thought was worse than having people know I was a coward. But legitimate Warden business, a possible cure, no one would think to wonder whether I planned to come back until I was too far away for anyone to try to follow. The Wardens would continue acting like I would return until they were simply used to me not being there anymore, and I'd just fade into vague myths. No one would ever know I'd run away."
"But you came back."
She barked another humorless laugh and reburied her face in the mabari's neck. "Funny, that. First, we went in the right direction just in case anyone was watching. Once we got past the border of Orlais, we just kind of…kept going. It could change things so much for the Wardens, and the search gave me something to focus on, I guess. I wasn't quite so tired once it was just the two of us anyway, and I found I didn't mind only having Timur to talk to. I couldn't remember ever being…alone before. And then I discovered the Maker has an even stranger sense of humor, because the trail actually led somewhere, whether or not it works, and I couldn't not come back."
She fell silent again, her face turned into the old warrior's grey neck, then Timur locked eyes again with Cullen. Sweet Andraste, he's known something was wrong, whether or not he understood what it was! And I think…I think he's been trying to tell me. He found himself clenching his fists, desperately wanting to reach out to her to comfort her and knowing that he couldn't. Not yet.
"Escaping for a while helped, but now the very thought of resuming that power of life and death, fighting every day, struggling to stop sliding toward not caring, not taking the easy answers no matter the costs,…that thought makes me want to lie down and sleep and surrender to blessed darkness forever. But at the same time, being the Warden Commander, making certain the ordinary people in Ferelden are protected as much as possible both from the darkspawn and from wardens themselves—it gives me purpose and has given me a reason to wake up every day. Being conscripted, surviving the Joining, being forced into command…that's all I have left and in the end, there's nothing else." Timur licked her hair affectionately, but his eyes remained fixed on Cullen, not begging, but perhaps…urging him on. "Sometimes, Timur's been the only thing that's anchored me, and I'm ashamed for being so weak."
"Blessed Andraste, Surana, you aren't weak! If you were weak, you would have given in a long time ago! It's the people who do keep trying, who won't tell anyone they need help, the people who will themselves to keep going long past the point they should, who push body and mind too far, that sooner or later, it's just too much." He forced himself to stand still, and firmly ignored the chill he felt at the thought she might have been lost forever to simple ignorance.
Watching her with Timur, suddenly all too, well, not human, but certainly alarmingly mortal in her need for her guardian's comfort, he suddenly was reminded of his Templar training. There had been an exercise intended to develop balance and coordination in which trainees tried to sit on a one-legged stool. Most of the trainees, uncoordinated young people in their mid-teens, found it an embarrassing ordeal, and few had ever achieved more than a very wobbly success. He remembered his envy for the one or two who excelled at the torturous exercise, especially one young woman who could not only balance with no sign of effort, but could drink from a cup of hot tea at the same time without slopping a drop into the saucer or spilling a drop. But he'd also once seen her when she stood up from the stool, the shaking of her legs evidence that it had been far from effortless. That's what Surana's been doing, balancing on a one-legged stool with a cup of hot tea, smiling and convincing everyone it takes no effort while her muscles scream. And the leg supporting her…is Timur!
"Am I…am I mad?" Her words were calm, but Cullen knew now that that iron control, the masks she wore concealed much more than any of them had guessed.
"No, but you have hurt yourself and you need to stop pushing yourself so hard, at least for a little while, and stop trying to will yourself to do more and more. In fact, what usually seems to help people heal is to spend some time only doing easy, enjoyable things." He forced himself to think of her as a junior officer who'd been pushing herself so hard she'd pulled a muscle…which in a way wasn't a bad analogy and helped his words flow more easily. "Learning to do a few things just for fun would probably do you good."
To his relief, he heard a muffled though brief laugh. "You? The commanding officer whose troops take bets on whether or not he sleeps at his desk six nights of seven, telling me I need to learn to have fun?"
Cullen laughed softly in return. "I do no such thing! I don't sleep at my desk more than three nights in seven, thank you very much. In honesty, yes, there are times I have pushed myself that hard, but I do pay attention to my limits. And when there isn't an emergency, I play chess several times a week with Dorian or Charter. I haven't tried to keep everyone away from me."
"Just Varric and Sera?" She raised her head again, laughing blue-grey eyes meeting his, though there was an uncertainty in the way Surana searched his eyes that suggested she still wasn't convinced that he and Rylen wouldn't judge her a coward.
"Maker's breath! Just wait until Varric decides you're too serious." Cullen abruptly sat down on a low bench next to them, suddenly conscious of looming over her. "You know Rylen and I will protect your secret as best we can. And you could take a chance and let friends, old and new, close to you again." He rubbed the back of his neck reflexively. "You've seen me at my worst more than once and haven't held it against me, Surana. Please, trust me to do the same for you?" Impulsively, he bent forward and extended one hand to her, as if offering to seal a bargain. For a few seconds, the mage hesitated before placing her slender, calloused hand in his, holding onto it firmly while she studied his face.
"Will I…will it get better?"
"Yes." He spoke confidently. "It'll be hard, you'll still have times it overwhelms you again, times when you seem to be losing, and you'll probably never be able to push yourself as hard as you did before. But sometimes just knowing that you have overextended yourself, being willing to ask for help, that can make the difference in getting through it."
Timur rose creakily and moved forward to stiffly raise a paw. Pressure from Surana lowered their hands so he was able to rest his paw on top of their joined hands as if reinforcing their bargain. Or, Cullen thought under the old warrior's intense gaze, giving a blessing?
I'm a veteran and I have friends who have experienced problems after combat. I also have lived with close family with severe depression. I have to believe both of these would be recognized by the military in Thedas and the Templars, especially considering what they'd face normally, and I'd think the Wardens would be particularly susceptible considering what they face. I think Theodosians would have their own ideas about these problems and about practical, empirical treatments. I may no claim to be an expert, but they wouldn't be either.