/JbMax53qUn Wren's Lore book, I'm Not Calling You A Liar, can be found here
/works/32918743
Cayde didn't come home after caring for the body. Wren sat in the window all night looking for him. Waiting. It wasn't until close to dawn that she caught sight of him. His shoulders drooped, his head hung lower than normal, and his boots practically dragged the ground. The gentle swaying of his cloak as he moved was slow, heavy. She got up to meet him at the door but when she opened it he passed without a word and collapsed on the couch.
Wren sat on the coffee table, unsure of what to do.
He peeked at her from under his arm, his optics duller than usual. "You been up this whole time?"
"Yeah."
"I told you not to wait up."
"I couldn't sleep. I have some food I brought home for dinner. Do you want some?"
He shook his head.
"What do you need me to do?"
"Go to bed. I'll be in there soon." He rested his arm over his eyes again, then noticed the blood on his gloves. For a moment he paused, staring at them before pulling them off and dropping them on the floor.
Wren didn't do as he asked. Instead she squeezed in beside him on the couch, hugging his head to her chest. It didn't matter that his arms were spattered in blood stains or that he smelled of grease, smoke, and something she didn't quite recognize. A clean but harsh scent that burned her nose and throat. She held him close, the fabric of his cloak pressed against her cheek.
Cayde put an arm around her clung to her the same way she'd done to him so many times. Kiran and Sundance clicked and clattered against one another as they crowded into Cayde's scarf. Funny how it reminded her of one of their first encounters. Hers and Cayde's. How furious and hurt she'd been when he joked about taking bets on her death. Kiran had done his best to assure her that Cayde did care about his Hunters but she wasn't hearing it.
The version of him he couldn't hide from her here in their home was different than what she'd seen before. There was no hiding here. He must have known that, but there was also the mask he insisted on wearing outside these walls. She wanted to make sure he knew he could put the mask away when he was with her. That this place was their sanctuary.
She wanted to talk to him. Or more, get him to talk to her, but she was afraid that speaking would make him shut down entirely. Just holding him would have to be enough for now. There they remained in silence, Wren tracing small shaped on the side of his head, feeling the fine needlework of his repairs under her fingertips.
A beam of sunlight crept slowly across the floor, little motes of dust dancing in the glow. Outside the window a stray cat hopped onto the sill, its shadow catching Sundance's attention. She blinked toward Cayde.
"Hey, we need to get ready for the funeral," she said quietly.
Cayde sighed heavily and reluctantly sat up, his hand lingering in Wren's lap. She held it and sat up with him, pushing his hood off and running her hand along the smooth metal of his jaw, guiding him to look at her. He forced a smile but it fell just as quickly as it had come.
"Let's get a shower," Wren said, standing to lead him toward the bathroom.
He stripped off his armor, gaze stuck on the blood spatter that would have to be cleaned off, then got into a steaming shower. Wren moved his things to a bag and got Kiran to set up an armor to pick it up and take care of it. One less thing for Cayde to concern himself with. She even retrieved his gloves and left it all by the door before joining Cayde.
Wren took the washcloth from him.
"I was usin' that," he muttered, raising a brow when she began washing his chest and shoulders.
"You do a lot to take care of me and your Hunters," she replied, staring at the cloth. "Let me take care of you sometimes."
He scoffed. "Right. You risk your life for this City all the time. You don't think you take care of me enough?"
"That's not what I mean."
He watched her every move as she washed him off, paying attention to every inch as she scrubbed. At least he wasn't fighting her about it.
"I hate to ask, but what's going on today?"
"Well, when we get outta here, we'll get dressed and head to the bottom of the Tower where the procession will start. We'll take a long route through the City so that everyone can pay their respects, then we'll end up at the temple where Quantis Rhee will…" he cleared his throat. "Don't wear heels."
He got out of the shower, sloshing water on the floor but he dropped a towel and mopped it up before leaving the bathroom. Wren took her time getting cleaned up, choosing not to wash her hair since they were limited on time. She finished getting ready in silence, listening to Cayde through the bathroom door. He was pacing one moment then quiet the next, sometimes muttering under his breath.
When she came out in her flowing floor length gown he scanned her up and down. It was a simple enough dress, pale blue and silver in the colors of the Hunters which Cayde also matched. A black shawl accompanied it with a silver Hunter symbol inverted on the back as Sisre had said it was a mark of respect for a fallen Guardian to have their crest upside down. Sisre had also instructed her to buy sensible shoes so she passed up on heels.
Cayde's ceremonial armor for funerals was similar to that of his wedding armor in style but almost solid black with the inverted Hunter insignia on the chest. Thick black fur covered his shoulders and his signature cloak had been replaced with one she recognized as belonging to Quantis Rhee. It was tattered and bloodstained, clashing with his shining armor.
While she didn't understand the gesture, she didn't question it either. She straightened the hood around his face, standing on her toes and pulling him in to kiss his cheek, then followed him out the door.
They passed by many Guardian too busy to stop and attend the funeral, but giving Cayde condolences and small trinkets to be placed at the grave. It seemed to take forever to get to the bottom of the Tower and upon exiting to the street Wren froze in her tracks.
Guardians and civilians alike liked the streets, though not quite as thickly as they had when she had watched Beorn's procession from the rooftops. The casket was simple, dark stained oak and was carried by a team of Hunters in black armor, their faces hidden by their helmets. A Hunter banner lay across the top of the casket and several more Hunters carried an even larger banner nearby. Sisre had explained that this group would follow the casket so mourners could toss in items to be taken to the grave with the body.
Cayde fell in behind the casket and Wren took a place behind him but he quickly moved her to stand at his side. She felt watched. Stared at. She tried to focus at one point on the casket, hearing people fall into place behind her before the procession started.
A band played somber music as the Hunter was taken to her final resting place and Wren kept pace with Cayde. Most people sent up quiet prayers to their gods or the Traveler and placed their flowers, trinkets, and offerings into the banner as they were passed. A few handed Cayde things specifically, probably Guardians that knew her in life, and he slipped them into pouches at his waist.
Wren walked along with them, silent and thankfully ignored. No one seemed to notice her at all and after a time she was able to relax. She would have done this with Beorn. Walked behind his casket and taken condolences from mourners. She looked at the casket in front of her. At least there was a body. That had to make it somewhat easier. Right? Beorn's body was never able to be brought home. It remained in a different kind of tomb, far from the dignified burial temple of Guardians.
It wasn't fair. He shouldn't have been left there, and yet knowing they had no choice didn't ease the bitter taste in her mouth. Tears pricked her eyes and she looked away from the casket, hoping it would also tear her mind away from the thought of Beorn. This was not his funeral. Crying now would send the wrong message.
They wound for miles through the City, the crowds thinning out with each one until her feet ached and they finally reached the temple. The band stopped playing and stepped aside for the procession to pass, now led by the casket and team of Hunters in black. They entered a hall for Guardians, which was lined on both sides with tombs. A granite slab sat on the floor beside the cramped, dark hole in the wall, Quantis Rhee's name inscribed in the stone.
The casket was slid into the hole and Wren shuddered. Cayde took a pouch from his side and examined it before tying it again and placing it in the tomb.
"2,457," he said quietly, resting his hand on the casket before backing away and allowing a pair of Titans to lift the granite slab and seal the tomb with any trinkets to be buried with her.
Cayde removed her cloak and folded it neatly. It was strange seeing him without one in public. As there was no one to pass the cloak on to, he turned on his heels and left the temple carrying it. The procession broke up, everyone taking their leave at their leisure.
Wren followed Cayde this time and he didn't move her to stand beside him. He seemed lost in thought, carrying the cloak in front of him all the way back to the Tower and up to his office. She wanted to plop down in one of the chairs, her feet aching and swollen, but she remained standing as he went to a bookcase and pushed a button.
Behind was a doorway to a room and Wren stopped dead in her tracks when she peered inside. It was lined with cloaks. All different colors and levels of wear. Some were hardly recognizable as cloaks at all, degraded to strange colored scraps of material in clear plastic boxes. Others hung prominently, others still on racks. Quantis Rhee's joined them.
"What is this place?" Wren asked.
"Not every Hunter has someone to pass their cloak to," he said. "Sometimes one Hunter collects a bunch of em' but then when they die? Well, they gotta go somewhere."
He passed her in the doorway. It was like seeing into his guilt. A front row seat to every Hunter he couldn't forget. Everyone that he laughed with, drank with, made bets with. All gone and yet he was still standing.
Wren closed the bookcase and went to where he was sitting in his chair, head propped up in his palm. It was no wonder he treated her the way he did. This wasn't just about him not trusting her abilities, this was about the loss he'd suffered in silence. For years. Decades. Centuries even.
She stood beside him, hand on his shoulder and he pulled her in without warning. She sat in his lap, holding him while he broke down. His shoulders shook and he clung to her for dear life. While he wanted his openness, his honesty, more than anything, this wasn't what she meant. Vulnerability wasn't worth his pain.