Chapter 2: Still searching
(Partner chapter to "Our Lady Shall Weep for Them")
Anger boiled and hissed inside of Cullen as he led the others to the War Room. Redcliffe had been a disaster, and they all knew it- but no one wanted to rescind the ridiculous decision made by a child. The mage was a proud apostate! What had they expected? Why hadn't the blasted Seeker stepped in? Why had anyone even let a mage dictate the future of the rest of the mages? These were dangerous people who had to be guarded every hour of the day because they were too weak to avoid temptation! Abominations, blood magic, corruption, demons- and it had to be magic that opened the damned Breach!
He was clenching his teeth so hard that his jaw was throbbing with pain and his hands were so tightly fisted that he could feel his nails digging into his palm. The Commander reveled in it. He let the pain keep him grounded and guard against the whispers in his head. The others were silent, even once he opened the door and led them inside. Leliana picked up a few messages that she'd left in here and handed them to Cassandra to read. Josephine shuffled some of her papers and marked things down. They were all stiff and so quiet that he couldn't hear them breathing- and the memories in his head threatened to drown out the silence with screaming.
Cullen found himself unwillingly grateful, then, that the mage chose this time to walk in. Right away Cassandra handed the messages off to her and began discussing how they would rearrange Haven's forces to accommodate the mages better. New trade routes for food and supplies to help with the new allies were established and letters were written to various nobles who might be of aid. On and on the talks went, with the three other councilors trying to act like everything was completely normal. She sat in one of the chairs in the corner, and ignored his barbed comments and ridiculous proposals. It didn't seem to matter what he said, she just sat there, tugging at a loose thread on the long sleeve of her tunic.
After an hour or so, the embers inside of him started to burn down. There was a headache starting behind his eyes, and his feet were getting sore. They were having trouble deciding which routes to bring the mages up. It was hard to know what the safest, easiest road would be. Thinking it best to ask someone who'd been out in the Hinterlands regularly, Cullen addressed Wren while studying the map on the table, "What were the conditions of the High Road like the last you were there, Herald? I know there were still accounts of bandits on the eastern routes. Do you think it would be safe to bring them up this way?"
Her voice was quiet and flat, "I'm sure it would be." He looked up, brow furrowed. Normally she would be up here and marking the route herself, explaining why the others were unsuitable. This time, she just stayed in the chair, tearing at a piece of paper absently. Was she even paying attention? Cassandra piped up, filling in for the mage and marking off areas that were still too dangerous for them to use reliably. With the new information, they modified the plan and continued on.
Twice more he addressed the girl directly, and both times she gave similarly disinterested answers. The third time he tried, Josephine actually stomped on his foot to stop him. He looked up at the normally sweet ambassador, startled. Glaring at him, she quickly changed the subject and brushed it off. Only then did Cullen start to analyze the circumstance. He looked around with a new perspective, noting the way each of the women were using gentle voices and simple questions with the young Herald. All they received were gentle agreements or barely there shrugs of her thin shoulders. It was so different from her usual enthusiastic involvement that he couldn't help but cringe. 'Maker, Cullen, you just can't help ripping this woman apart, can you?'
He spoke little for the rest of the meeting, instead observing Wren and replaying what had happened over and over in his mind. When Leliana finally called the meeting, saying there was nothing more they could do tonight that couldn't be put off for a couple days, he lagged behind. The women hovered around the younger woman, speaking gently and ushering her out of the room. They didn't even pay attention to him and the heavy door slowly swung shut behind them, leaving the Commander to stand alone. Voices beyond the door were subdued, and he stood there until they were finally silent.
Why did he have to say any of that? How had he completely missed the haunted look in her eyes, or the sudden paleness to her skin, when he'd said that she was as big of a threat as the Breach. Not rogue mages, not abominations, not any of the things he was actually afraid of- her. Wren. The sweet bird that had landed among them just when they needed such hopeful and determined youth. The beautiful creature that flew far and wide in the name of their cause, and always returned when she could easily have flown away. And here he'd been, after her great victory, willing to throw her in a cage.
A weight settled in his stomach that he could only call guilt, and he trudged out of the Chantry. He should have gone back to his room, filled out reports, maybe planned for the new training exercises. Instead, he found his feet carrying him to the Tavern. He didn't often come here to drink by himself. Usually he went on the nights his men had free so that he could gauge their moral and talk with them- connect. Tonight, he just wanted a drink. A lifetime ago his Knight-Commander had told him that drinking didn't solve anything, it only made more problems. Well, he'd caused so many problems already, what were a few more?
The building was nearly empty, thankfully. His soldiers were under orders to rest well tonight and the rest of the town was likely preparing for an influx of people. The ale was barely watered down, and the first two tankards went down quickly.
"Fancy seeing you here, Curly." The familiar gruff voice of Varric sounded from beside him. Cullen turned, a little confused, what had the dwarf gotten here?
"Hello, Varric."
The rogue slid onto the neighboring stool and ordered an ale for himself and another for the Commander. "Well, I know you aren't here just passing time, and since you are alone, there's only one explanation." Varric paused to take a drink, and Cullen's stomach dropped. This man always knew more than he should… "So let me guess, you stuck your foot in your mouth again?" Well, there it was. Cullen nodded slowly, swirling the cup around a bit. Varric nodded sagely, "That tends to happen when you start talking and stop thinking." Instead of looking sympathetic, the dwarf scowled at him, "I hear you hurt her pretty bad this time. Care to explain?"
What? How… No, he knew how. This man had eyes and ears like a damned cat; nothing that happened in the camp, especially if it was juicy, escaped his notice. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. Not only that, but Varric was one of those that Wren frequently took with her out to the Hinterlands and surrounding area. Anyone that spent time with that woman became protective. He'd even noticed that the normally aloof Solas hovered around the girl. Was no one free of her charm?
His drinking companion down the rest of his drink and signaled for another for them both, "Here, I'll start it for you- 'Varric, I'm an idiot.' Now you finish."
Cullen sighed heavily, "I'm not just an idiot. I… What I said. It was purposeful." The ale slid down his throat and he barely felt it, "I was so angry. No, I was afraid. I am afraid." His company was silent, waiting for him to continue. "You know some of what happened in Fereldan, and Kirkwall, of course. It's been one giant mess after another. The Inquisition is my home now, and… The thought of losing it to the same mistakes…"
The dwarf nodded, "It would scare the pants off anyone. But she isn't to blame for that. If anything, she's probably the only one here that could keep anything like that from happening. Do you understand what she's done, Curly? She stopped the war. Something that the nobles have been trying to do for years, and she stopped it in a sentence." He looked hard at the Commander, "You don't have to agree with her decisions, but so far, she's the only one making those decisions."
"I know Varric, I know. What she's accomplished… It's amazing. She's amazing." He went to take a drink, but found it empty. Varric simply pushed another towards him and he nodded gratefully, "She's done so much to help everyone. The Inquisition has been getting a lot of credit for helping the refugees and relief effort, but we haven't done anything. Every step, every action, she's been there. Wren's got this… this fire in her. Everyone is drawn to her compassion and enthusiasm." His voice dropped to a near whisper, "Myself included."
A few more sips, and he turned to Varric. "I've seen her come back to camp with an arrowhead still embedded in her shoulder. She has stood up to the ridiculous nobles that try to discredit her with the same fire she uses to stand up to a grizzly. She's shouldered everything that has been thrown at her with a sense of duty and pride, and never wavered." Cullen dropped his gaze to the counter top, deflated, "And today, I took that away from her. I… Maker. I'm a monster. The first person to ever defeat the Herald of Andraste… You should have seen her, just…sitting there. Empty. No anger. No frustration. No fire. Just… empty. And it was my doing."
A long silence drew out between them as both men drank their ale. Cullen wondered if that would be the end of the discussion, but of course, Varric always had to dig deeper, "If you know you were wrong, why don't you go apologize to her again?"
Cullen sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Maker knows I want to. I'd give anything…" He thought about what happened at the Fereldan Circle. What happened at Kirkwall. How could he explain that to anyone? What do you even say to make them understand why you are a monster? How could he even think of asking for forgiveness, when he deserved her hatred? He was a monster. She'd forgive him. She'd take his history in stride and forgive him. But he was a monster. He didn't deserve her forgiveness, "She wouldn't understand." She would just look at him with those amazing eyes and forgive him. She wouldn't understand that he was a monster, unworthy of her affection…
Suddenly, someone grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him off the stool. He stumbled to regain his feet, but he'd had too much ale and the world just tilted around him as the assailant dragged him outside. They threw him against the Tavern wall, and he got a good look- it was Dinall! The mage's dark skin was flushed with rage and he snarled as he slammed his fist into the Commander's face. There were shouts of surprise and people scrambling to get to them, but a flash of blue threw a bubble of a shield around them and tossed the soldiers that came to Cullen's aid. He felt a fist connect with his ribs, and he struggled to fight back. Everything spun and he managed to block another swing at his face, but the next hit landed on his chin and he felt his lip burst and tasted blood. Cullen's knee came up, hoping to break the man's attack long enough to gain his footing, but the mage just clamped his own legs around the Commander's and spun them around, throwing them both to the ground with the ex-Templar on the bottom.
He saw the fist rise up again, but before it could fall a small hand grabbed it and twisted it away. He felt Dinall pulled off of him and shoved back, and he struggled to his feet. Of course, it was her. How did she always manage to be the hero? He didn't need to be rescued; he deserved to be hit! He deserved to be attacked!
Some of his soldiers ran up to him, and the people that had gathered around were looking at him in shock and at Dinall and Wren with fear. He couldn't stand it, "Don't you all have jobs to do?" he snarled, and the people fled from him, except for his soldiers. They asked if he needed a healer, or if they should arrest the mages, and his temper flared again, "I need nothing. Go back to your tents. I can deal with this myself."
Her voice was so gentle and full of concern that it hurt for him to hear it, "What in Thedas is this all about?"
He laughed, bitterness rising in his throat like bile, "Isn't it obvious, Herald? One of your mages got off his leash." He wanted her hatred. He wanted to see her fire directed at him. Anything to keep from seeing her empty like that again.
It was Dinall that reacted though. The man threw himself forward again, but Wren stopped him with a touch, "Stop it," she hissed, "it's not worth it." Cullen sneered at the man, daring him to defy her.
Dinall glared down at her, barely restraining himself, "What he said to you was completely out of line! He deserves every hit I landed."
'Yes, I did. So come finish the job!' Cullen almost screamed.
She wasn't giving up, "Go to my cabin, Dinall." When the other mage tried to object, she shoved him back, "No, just go. I'll be there in a moment, alright?" Something twisted in Cullen's chest at the obvious companionship they shared. If Josephine hadn't explained that they were practically siblings, not lovers, he might have felt a stab of jealousy. Instead, he tried to distract himself by taking an assessment of his injuries. The fight hadn't lasted long, but for a mage, Dinall had a hell of a punch.
Soft footsteps turned his attention back to Wren, and he stumbled away from her as she approached, disgusted that she was looking at him with such compassion. "Let me do my job, at least." She whispered firmly, pushing his hands away from his side. He couldn't help but stare at her in wonder and frustration. This was why he could not stop thinking about her. Here she was, mending his wounds herself when she could easily have left him for the healers to tend, and after all the things he'd said to her today… He flinched when she touched his lip, pained that her skin wasn't touching him out of affection, but of necessity. She shushed him, "It's alright. The damage is not bad. It will be quick to heal." Andreste preserve him, she was so gentle that he barely felt her magic stitch the bone he knew to be broken, and his heart broke instead. How could she do this so calmly?
When she was finished, her eyes found his and burned into them. There was no anger there, only a sad sort of pity. She pitied him. No hate, no rage, no fear- just pity. "I will not ask what happened to make you hate the mages so." His heart stopped at hearing his own words from her mouth, "I only ask that you do not paint us all with the same brush. I shall happily endeavor to do the same." If he hurt before, it was nothing compared to the dagger that sunk into his chest now. . "Goodnight, Commander Cullen."
She turned and left him standing in the snow, struck dumb by what had just happened. Maker… What had he done to deserve such kindness from her?
Varric stepped out of the shadows then, watching the mage go while he walked towards Cullen, "I'd say, Commander, that she understands perfectly."
AN: This chapter actually hurt to write, I was so into Cullen's mind. I hope I portrayed his thoughts well enough. Oh the angst! I highly recommend reading the corresponding chapter in "And the Veil Divides," as it really sheds more light on the whole situation and the misunderstandings.
Hope you all enjoyed. Don't forget to R&R!