/JbMax53qUn Wren's Lore book, I'm Not Calling You A Liar, can be found here
/works/32918743
Rest in peace Commander. I don't know what we'll do without you.
"He had the worst jokes," Ikora said, but the words passed around Wren in a haze. "Even worse timing. I wanted to laugh. I really did."
Something bitter in Wren wanted her to lash out. To tell Ikora that it was too late to laugh. If she meant it, she should have done it when Cayde was… her gaze fell away from the Warlock's face to the Hunter symbol on the banner that covered Cayde's body. She wished she could say it didn't feel real, but this anger in her heart told her differently.
Wren watched Ikora carefully as she approached Cayde's body, her hands resting on the side of the table where he'd been laid out after the initial investigation into his death. There were questions. For her and for Petra. Questions she hadn't appreciated. As if she was somehow involved. It didn't matter that they'd mentioned repeatedly that they were standard questions. Everything was raw. Painful. They didn't ask these things when Beorn died. Hell, she hadn't even been given enough time to get out of her armor which was now stained with whatever had coursed through Cayde as blood.
Ikora looked to Zavala, who watched on stoically. There was a sadness to his eyes, but otherwise he gave away nothing. He only stood there and stared. Quiet. Thoughtful.
"We should have been there," Ikora said to him and Wren stiffened. As if Ikora knew what Wren was thinking, she locked eyes with her. "This is not your fault. This... is on the head of Uldren Sov. But if he thinks what he's done is the end, it's not. It's... the beginning. We're going to fight him," she insisted, her tone shifting to anger.
"Do you hear me?" she said, turning on Zavala when he didn't reply. "All of us. Every Titan. Every Warlock. Every Hunter. We will take the Reef by storm! And then we will mount the head of that son of a bitch on his precious throne. For our fireteam... for Cayde."
Revenge. Uldren had stolen Cayde from her and Wren was itching to get after him, even if Ikora was more vocal about it. He had the Ace of Spades. The only part of Cayde that still existed. The weapon was an extension of self for him in a lot of ways and there was nothing that could stop her from retrieving the weapon at the very least. And if she had any say on the matter, she'd use it to splatter that pathetic son of a –
"No," Zavala said, quietly.
Wren's eyes shot to the Commander. Her fists tightened at her sides but before she could protest Ikora spoke.
"What did you say?"
Finally Zavala tore his attention away from Cayde and addressed them personally. "We are not an army. We are not conquerors. We are Guardians. We need to keep our eyes here. On our home. Our people. The Traveler."
"We are not an army?" Wren hissed. "That's the best you can come up with? We're no army and yet me and my fireteam have been sent out time and again, just the five of us to hunt and kill gods. GODS, Commander. You expect that of us and yet you don't think us capable of hunting down some spoiled, entitled prince?"
Zavala seemed unphased by her words as he approached Cayde's side. "The Reef was lost the moment it lost its Queen. So if another Sov wants a stretch of lifeless rocks, let him have it."
"This has nothing to do with that fucking Reef."
"This is Cayde we're talking about," Ikora said. "For us to do nothing is... is..."
Zavala stood a little taller, he and Ikora locked in a stand off. "Say it."
"Cowardice," she said.
"I refuse to bury any more friends." He rested his hand over Cayde's chest. The same one that left the scars on Wren's face. She remembered the dull ache as his body cut into her flesh and the way Kiran argued with her about keeping the scars but she needed a reminder. Of him. Something of him to be a part of her.
"You won't have to," Wren said quietly. Zavala and Ikora watched her. "I'm no friend to you, Commander. Uldren Sov is mine. I won't let you or my fireteam or the whole damn City stop me."
She turned on her heel and stormed off, into the darkness of the morgue.
There would be no time to plot revenge. At least not for the first day. Wren stood in front of her apartment for what felt like hours, key in hand, too afraid to go in. She hadn't cried since he died. How many hours had it been? Not that it mattered. Or was real. No… that was wrong.
Wren's brow furrowed. It was real. Right. He was gone. Yeah…
"Hey," a voice called softly from behind and Wren turned to see Petra a few feet away. Her gaze drifted between Wren's outstretched hand and the doorknob and she lowered her head in understanding. "Ikora sent me for you. It's time to prepare Cayde's body. Come dawn he'll be…" Her voice trailed off. They both knew that dawn would bring the funeral procession for Cayde to his final resting place.
"Prepare…"
"It's tradition in the City that those closest to the deceased clean and dress the body. It's a final goodbye, in a way."
"I know. Cayde told me about it when Quantis died I just… I don't know if I can look at him again."
Petra reached out and held Wren's hand, gripping lightly. "Ikora told me that you plan on going after Uldren Sov."
Wren stiffened. "You can't stop me."
"I don't want to. There's a lot you don't know. About my past and your own and the intricacies of Awoken court. Mara and Uldren… maybe some day I'll tell you because it involves you as well. In a way. But what was done to Cayde cannot be forgiven, no matter the history. Uldren must be brought to justice."
Wren locked eyes with her. "Justice isn't exactly what I had in mind."
Petra released her hand. "I can't make you go to Cayde, even if I think you should."
With that she walked away and Wren was alone, staring at her door. Kiran appeared and rested heavily on her shoulder.
"I would go to her," he whispered.
Even though he said no more, Wren understood. There wasn't enough left of Sundance to prepare and what remained would be kept as evidence. Perhaps in that way, Kiran considered Wren lucky. There had been enough of her lover to bring home.
Home.
A knife in the gut.
She didn't remember turning the key or walking into the bedroom. Their bed was a mess of pillows and blankets and his scent was so thick in the air that it almost choked her with tears but she'd made a silent vow. She'd not shed a tear until Uldren's body was a cold as Cayde's. She had to be strong for him. Had to do what she knew he would do if the tables were turned.
A knock at the door startled her and before she knew it her hand was on her hip where the Better Devils should have been. Heart in her throat she went to open the door to see Sisre and Rorick on the other side.
Sisre wrapped her in a hug before she could process what was happening and Rorick put his arms around them both. Wren squeezed her eyes tight and gripped her friends hard.
"I'm so sorry, Wren," Sisre said, petting her hair. "I can't believe it. I just can't."
"We brought food," Rorick said, parting from them and shuffling around with several bags hanging from his arm. He put them down on the kitchen counter and looked around the dark apartment somberly.
"When are they preparing the body?" Sisre asked.
"Petra just left. She told me they'll be starting soon," Wren replied, setting her helmet down on a table beside the door. Her fingertips dragged across its surface.
"You should get changed then. We'll stay here and make dinner for when you get back."
"I don't… I don't think I can go."
Sisre shot Rorick a pitiful glance. "Honey, I understand why you wouldn't. I can't imagine how hard this is. But I think you'll regret it if you don't. Go get dressed and if you change your mind before you get there, then walk away, but you should at least try. For your own sake."
Wren tried not to look at the bed when she went to the closet and stripped off her armor. She laid it carefully on the dresser, tracing the outline of the stains she found on the chest piece. Quickly she turned her back on it, forcing herself to get dressed in a simple black dress and flats. She rubbed her bare arms as she joined Sisre and Rorick in the living room, feeling exposed without the protection of her armor.
Sisre wrapped a cloak around Wren's shoulders, the soft fur of the hood tickling her cheeks. Bright eyes softened as Sisre drew her thumbs across Wren's scars. For a moment Wren thought she might comment on them. Insist that Wren get Kiran to heal them, but instead she kissed Wren's forehead and ushered her out the door.
"We'll see you when you get home," she assured, but Wren wasn't sure if she wanted Sisre and Rorick around. She wanted a drink. Or several. Cayde didn't want that for her, but where was he to stop her?
Wren turned her face to the sky, forcing back tears. Revenge first.
There was a bitterness in her that she'd not felt before. When Beorn died, there was a thing to blame. SIVA. There was no face to haunt her. No person running around that she could blame the death on. That she could hunt. But Uldren? It tore at her that he had so willingly killed Cayde. He'd crumbled her life in his palm and discarded the pieces like filth and it made her blood boil.
That anger increased with every step Wren took toward the morgue until at last she was at the door. Looking up at the sign and it all shattered. The rage dropped in an instant at the thought of seeing Cayde's body again. Lifeless. Empty. For a moment she stood there, unsure of if she wanted to go in. She clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to hype herself up but at the end, the thought that swayed her was that she'd want him a part of this ritual if it was her laying there.
She'd want him to clean and dress her. Spend the last precious moments with her before her body was entombed. Not everyone made it back. Beorn hadn't. There wasn't a ceremony like this for him where his friends could say their goodbyes. At least now Wren could swear to Cayde that his death would not go unpunished.
Inside the morgue was quiet. Cold. She shuddered and rubbed her arms under the cloak. Even her flat soled shoes seemed too loud in the place. A receptionist quietly told her a room number and Wren made her way down the sterile, white hall lined with doors behind which she could hear people speaking. Crying. Other Guardians?
Petra waited for her outside of the room and smiled sadly as she gripped Wren's shoulder.
"I thought you might change your mind."
Wren realized her heart was pounding against her ribs. She could feel it in her throat. Her hands shook. "What do we do?"
"Come," Petra said, leading the way into a small anteroom with shelves to the left filled with soft white slippers and robe like gowns folded neatly and arranged by size. Sinks for washing up on the right also had a counter with boxes of tissue and several types of incense to burn. Across from the hall door was another door that led to the room where they would prepare him for burial.
Holliday and Ikora were already there, dressed in the simple robes. Wren couldn't make herself look them in the eye. In a way, she felt she had let them down. She should have protected him. Should have gotten to him sooner then maybe Uldren—
"Get dressed and we'll all go in together," Petra said, snapping Wren out of her own thoughts.
The pair of them dressed in silence, hanging up their clothes before joining Holliday and Ikora at the door. The four women stood in a circle and joined hands.
"I know… that this is hard on all of us for different reasons," Ikora said. "When you've been a Guardian as long as I have, you learn to come to terms with loss, in a way. As Vanguard, I know that whenever a Warlock leaves my side, it might be the last time I see them. All three of us knew that burden. Still, I'll admit that I… allowed myself to be lulled into a false sense of security. I thought Zavala and Cayde would be with me always. My fireteam…" Her eyes closed and she bowed her head.
"The best bet he's ever lost…" Wren whispered.
Ikora's inquisitive gaze caught her. "What?"
"Before he…" Wren took a deep breath. "He said that Vanguard was the best bet he ever lost. He wanted you and Zavala to know that."
On either side of her Holliday and Petra squeezed her hands and she wondered if they were hoping from a last message from him too, but she had none.
Ikora led the way into the room and Wren followed last. Cayde lay on the floor on a small platform that rose on a few inches. He was covered with a sheet and on either side of the platform were thick pillows for those in attendance to sit while they prepared him for burial. There were no words spoken as they pulled back the sheet and carefully folded it, baring Cayde's body.
The women sat beside him, with Ikora and Wren at his shoulders. The shredded metal of his body would make difficult to dress him so those pieces had to be removed as delicately as possible and collected. Fresh water mixed with sweet smelling perfumes had been provided as well as numerous clean cloths.
His body was cold to the touch and when Wren felt it she withdrew from him as if she'd been burned. It felt wrong. A few tears were shed over him by the others, but no one spoke. Sadness hung in the air like a fog and Wren's guilt and anger deepened.
A part of her knew he wouldn't want this, but she couldn't fight how she felt and neither could the others that sat around him, meticulously cleaning him. Her hand rested for a time on his head, her thumb tracing a deep gash. It made her wonder in some morbid way what he'd be doing if the tables were turned. Would he have come back to the City at all? Or would his thirst for revenge be immediate? Would he listen to Zavala and stay for the good and safety of others? Or would he rampage across the Reef looking for Uldren?
"Wren," Ikora said quietly and Wren blinked back to the present, realizing she'd been staring at Cayde's face. "I… I want you to know that I support your decision to find Uldren Sov."
Wren glanced at the others, who met her gaze intently.
"We all do," Holliday said. "There may not be much I can do, but I'll help however I can. You just put that son of a bitch in the ground."
"I, on the other hand, am perfectly capable of helping," Petra said. "I hold no ties to the City or the Vanguard. I actually plan on leaving as soon as we're finished here so I can ger a head start on hunting Uldren."
"I'll go with you," Wren said but Petra shook her head.
"No. The funeral will be at dawn. I know Cayde would want you there," she smiled sadly. "He wouldn't want you to be sad, but we all know this grief won't abide his wishes. You should be with him. Until the end."
"You'll be presented with his cloak, but the rest of his armor you can take with you today. If you wish," Ikora said. "Wren… did Cayde… say anything to you before he died? Anything… important?" She chose her words carefully but she was too vague and Wren didn't understand.
"Important how?"
"Did he give you a note? A letter?"
"No?"
"It must be in his armor," Ikora said, standing to go to where the armor lay on a bench. She rifled around in the pockets, then upon finding what she was looking for, returned and held out a half crumpled piece of paper with scorch marks and blood.
"What is this?"
"I think that's best left for you to discover. As it was intended," Ikora replied.
Wren opened it and read Cayde's familiar scrawling handwriting over and over. It hinted to a purple sky and hidden treasure found in plain sight. Then a small sketch of a familiar statue pointing off the page. Deepcourt. The chest where he had gifted her cloak to her.
"He wanted me to go to Deepcourt?" She asked, looking to Ikora for answers.
"It was the beginnin' of an adventure," Holliday said.
"Perhaps you should do that first," Petra said but Wren folded the note.
"No. Uldren still has the Ace of Spades. I have to get it back first."
"I understand. Let's get Cayde dressed and go home. We have an early start tomorrow."
Holliday and Ikora nodded agreement and the women dressed Cayde in his ceremonial armor. The one he had worn to many a Hunter wedding and funeral. Now he'd wear it to his own.
"He always hated this get up," Holliday chuckled, but there wasn't much joy in it.
"I know," Ikora sighed. "But Zavala would have my head if he saw Cayde in anything else. I'd like to keep him at least somewhat satisfied so I have less to deal with."
"Why isn't he here for this?" Petra asked. "He was close to Cayde too."
"As much as I disagree with Zavala's opinion on tracking Uldren Sov, I know that Cayde's loss is harder on him than he lets on," Ikora said.
"Whatever you say," Holliday huffed, taking her leave.
"We'll give you a moment alone," Petra said and with one more lingering look, Ikora followed her back into the outer room to change back into their clothes.
Alone with Cayde's body, Wren felt odd. Disconnected. What lay before her wasn't the man she fell in love with, but a husk. Everything light and warm and special about him was gone. She stared at his face, half expecting his eyes to flicker back to life, but they remained cold and dark.
"I wish I knew what to say," she whispered. "I guess… I'm leaving tomorrow. After the funeral. I'll hunt Uldren for you. For everything he took from us." Her lip began to quiver and tears stung her throat but she shut her eyes tight and breathed through it, pushing the pain to fear. Twisting it. She'd cut Uldren's heart out. "To think our lives have spanned this long and through many incarnations, only for me to lose you like this. After we find each other again…" She couldn't sit here any longer. She kissed his jagged mouth carefully and stood, listening at the door to ensure she was alone before heading into the outer room. Just before she closed the door, she looked over her shoulder once more. "I love you, Cayde. I'll make you proud."
Once she returned to the apartment she picked at her food halfheartedly, taking a few bites to appease Sisre but she couldn't make herself eat. It was as if her throat had swollen closed and swallowing was more like forcing down water when she drowned.
They left for home with Wren promising to be right behind them once she gathered a few items. She was afraid to be there alone but Zavala spared her by visiting shortly after they left.
"Commander," she said stiffly, stepping aside to allow him in.
Moonlight accentuated the shimmer of his skin as she stood before the window overlooking the courtyard. He was quiet. Calm. But there was a sadness to him.
"Wren, I came to offer my condolences. I know that my actions in the past have been… negative when it comes to the relationship between you and Cayde. Perhaps it's too late, but I ask your forgiveness. It had little to do with you at all and more to do with Cayde's inability to be impartial when it came to you." He turned to face her, the backlight making it difficult to see much of his face except softly glowing eyes. He sighed. "Wren, the desperation I saw grow in him… I understood in a way that I'm not yet willing to explain to you. I feared what that desperation might drive him to do. I hope some day you come to understand."
When Wren continued to watch him but not speak his shoulders dropped every so slightly.
"I would like you to walk in front of Ikora and myself in the procession tomorrow. The position is often reserved for a spouse, but perhaps this could be a sort of olive branch between us. However, this is not the only reason I've come here tonight. With my understanding of this situation, I know what to expect from you. For the foreseeable future, you will remain in the City."
Any bit of forgiveness she might have given him was shredded and she glared up at him.
"You're grounding me?"
"For the time being. I would like you to report to a Vanguard assigned psychologist until you can gain your bearings again. I know this is incredibly difficult—"
"I don't know why you're so intent on protecting Uldren Sov," Wren snapped.
"This isn't about protecting him. It's about protecting the people of this City. It's about protecting you. While you may be considering what Cayde would do if the situation was different, I must consider what he would want from me. Do you think he would be pleased with me if I let you run off on a possible suicide mission? I've already alerted Ikora and Holliday as well as guards at Wall gates."
Wren's fists clenched so tight they trembled but Zavala said nothing more. He gave her a curt nod and left the apartment moments before Wren's rage boiled over and she threw a pitcher of water to the floor with all her might, shattering not only the pitcher but the tile below it. Water splashed against her legs but still she wanted to do more. Wanted to throw things. Break things. To destroy. To hurt.
She stood there, shaking, for some time while she fought every desire to unleash on the now silent apartment. Kiran drifted away from her and settled on a pillow on the couch.
"Now what?" he asked.
"Holliday will help me leave."
"And you would ask that of her? She'd get in trouble."
"She'd do it willingly."
"Maybe."
"I'll talk to her tomorrow," Wren said, storming past him. She used the anger to throw some things in a bag before the despair their bedroom created in her was able to bubble up.