Work Text:
Brangwen did not return the same woman she left as.
The entire ordeal was already suspicious, anxiety lining her senses as both too much happened and too little.
How certain the Lord Seeker was to never see her face again after clocking an old woman upside the head, and now so eagerly wishing to meet her.
How he smirked as Cassandra gawked at him, how he looked at them with glazed and malicious eyes.
How there was something so undoubtedly wrong.
She should've known; with how battle-hardened she is, she should've seen an ambush coming- and she did.
Just not with a demon. Not a corruption of souls that didn't deserve such a fate. Not a mass of traitors being fuelled by a wall of red lythium.
Not an entity entering her mind and toying with her.
Memories of that intrusion plagued her as they traveled back to Haven, the warrior unusually quiet.
Varric's quips did not elicit a smirk from her scarred visage, Solas's muling about the fade did not garner any questions, nor did Cassandra's attempts at discussing battle plans grant a needed conversation about their next move.
Everything was shrugged off more firmly than usual.
But they all knew what had transpired, the envy demon intruding her mind and a strange man helping them, but that was all.
None saw what she saw, heard what she heard, did what she did.
They returned at dusk, and immediately a meeting was called at their arrival. Everyone could practically feel the air lining with the same tension that riddled Brangwen's shoulders as she walked in.
The dark room and dim candlelight did nothing to help how suffocated Brangwen felt; both too exposed to darkness and not vaste enough to see beyond the shadows.
Cassandra watched worryingly, before starting the meeting.
“I'm sure you all have been briefed on the happenings in Therinfal.” Cassandra began, leaning over the war table.
“Officers betraying their soldiers, templars without leaders, a demon imitating the Lord Seeker… We should have taken them to task. The crimes they’ve committed…”
“-Were committed by their officers.” Cullen chimes in, “The soldiers of the Order will serve.”
Brangwen's eyes momentarily flicked to him, before once again resuming their place of staring through the war table.
It was Leliana's turn to speak. “These crimes put them at our mercy. Yet the terms of this alliance do not benefit the Inquisition as they should! You should have consulted us, Herald.”
A scowl crossed Brangwen's face, a momentary grimace in her otherwise dissociative repose. “Apologies, for not running back to ask your permission first, before acting as I did. Perhaps the damned demon still lingered in my head, and i was unbeknownst to its influence!”
The room fell silent, the echo of her roar bouncing off the walls as it faded into nothing.
“I did not mean to question your motives or actions, Inquisitor.” Leliana responded quite tersely after a moment, but still held to her signature calm.
Both Cassandra and Cullen stared at Brangwen in a mixture of shock and empathy, a look that just fueled her frustration even more.
She couldn't stand to look at their faces- the faces of those not long ago looking at her in spite and fear in those visions. The people who she's grown so fond of, being betrayed and murdered by an illusionary doppelganger, and are now subject to an unwarranted fury.
The warrior had to excuse herself from the meeting, walking out with a speeding pace and shaking hands.
She heard Cassandra stopping someone from following her, saying that she “needs some space” and that they can “plan now and resume on the morrow”. Josephine, the angel that she is, swiftly changed the subject to the quickly arriving Templars and what to do with them.
Brangwen rushed to her cabin in the dying light of the sun, swiftly closing the door behind her, but still felt watched- still felt intruded.
The woman always had much control over emotions- she had to. She was the Chosen of Andraste; a force that needed to be forever steadfast and calculative, forever quick to resolve problems and even quicker with a blade.
But as soon as the fake Lord Seeker grabbed her, pulling herself into her own mind, she could feel that control slip.
How can she lead people, let alone stop the plane between mortals and demons from collapsing, if she doesn't have control over her own head?
The warrior shredded off her layers of armor as if they were layers of filth, tainted by the touch and whispers of actions and words she'd never do nor say.
“There was no demon within your mind.”
A voice spoke out, and Brangwen was quick to draw her blade at the source.
Cole, however, didn't flinch.
“It was not hurting you when you made the choice. The decision was your own.”
A pause.
“He won't hurt you again.”
Despite the anxiety that still tingled underneath her skin, Cole’s words were comforting. She sheathed her sword and flexed her hand, tendens stiff from the death-grip she had.
“You should be careful when you do that, Cole.”
“You won't hurt me, I've seen your heart- your mind. You wouldn't mean it. You want to help.”
The boy spoke, fiddling with his sleeve and leaving his face obscured.
“You're scared?” The question was asked more like a statement of truth.
“Yes.” Brangwen stood straighter, her voice lowering. She sounded like a woman that was anything but scared, but that's what she was, wasn't she? A facade, hiding and running from that fear.
The scared little girl, dreaming of being a soldier- but nothing changed, even after she's gotten her wish.
“You needn't be. Nobody will go in your mind- I won't go in your mind. You have friends, too. Good friends.”
He spoke sheepishly, as if still unsure that Brangwen even wants him around. He sounded almost guilty, like he didn't directly save her from an entrapment within herself.
“Thank you, Cole. You-”
A knock at her door interrupted her, quickly followed by the voice of the commander calling her name.
Cullen opened the door slowly, and Brangwen noted the small mass of guards that stood behind him.
“I heard voices. Are you… alright?”
She had hoped to introduce him to Cole, but the boy had once again disappeared from sight.
She grumbled softly, pinching at the bridge of her nose.
“Yes, I'm fine. Come in, if you'd like.”
Cullen hesitated, before shooting a pointed glance at his subordinates.
“Care to explain the little outburst earlier?” He asked as he closed the door behind him, still cautious in case of a possession.
Brangwen sneered at herself. “A ridiculous outburst. I need to apologize to Leliana about that.”
Cullen seemed to come to his senses that she was, in fact, not still possessed and entered the room further, the caution leaving his bodice.
“No need. Cassandra explained what happened. I came to see how you were fairing.”
His brown eyes noticed her lack of armor, trailing over the tight-fitting underclothes a little longer than some would deem professional. He caught himself quickly.
“Getting comfortable? Good. Maker knows you deserve it.”
Brangwen huffed, shaking her head with a hint of humor behind her eyes.
“A haste reprieve. Unfortunate, that you have to see me in such a state.”
She motioned to her drab clothes; a scruffy long-sleeved undershirt and worn leather pants. They hung to her body protectively, muscles and curves and all.
It felt… odd, without being in her armor. It nearly feels like a second skin at this point, a warrior's skin on top of her own.
But now, she was just that; a woman.
“No, no-” he shook his head, quick to not deem this unfortunate.
“You look nice!- er, it, uh, suits you.”
The commander blushed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
“Do you need anything before I go, Inquisitor?”
Of course. He was always quick to scamper after awkwardly complimenting her, almost like clockwork.
Brangwen wanted anything but being left alone, even if seeing him still warranted unwanted memories from that event.
The demon caught on to her stubborn interest in him, no doubt. It had an awful lot of fun making her watch a tender moment between them, before the doppelganger ran a knife along his throat.
His gargling still echoed in her mind.
“Brangwen?”
Cullen's voice broke through her daze, eyes quickly darting to his very un-slit throat.
“I'd prefer the company, if you have the time to spare.”
She shrugged off his concerned look, feigning a brave face despite the tremble in her hands.
“Care to share a drink with me?”
There was a knowing glimmer behind his eyes, like he knew she was turning to vices in a time of need.
Nonetheless, he nodded.
“One wouldn't hurt.”
The commander stood back towards the door, expecting to go the the little makeshift tavern that Haven has, but stopped at the sound of a cork popping.
“Where did you get that?”
Brangwen was already pouring the brown liquid into a glass, the bottle itself covered in intricate glass carvings and gold accents.
“Josephine had a few imported for me, to make me feel at home.”
Ah yes, home. Ostwick, and the little glance of nobility she gained at her birth. How little she cared for it then, and much she missed that simple life now. No need to dwell on it, however. It's not like she can go back to that.
“I've been meaning to ask you about that. Your home, that is. Your family.” Cullen asks, taking the drink that was handed to him.
Brangwen scoffs in return. “I'm sure you know everything there is, Cassandra herself admitted that you've all done a background check on me.”
She couldn't blame them, of course. Best to know who exactly the last saving grace was, rather than leaving it all to fate.
The warrior leaned against the wooden dresser that held the few belongings she's acquired, crossing her arms over her chest.
The man laughed a little, taking a drink of the ale and coughing soon after. Brangwen, in turn, sipped it like it was nothing.
“Exactly why I meant to ask. Not much came up when I searched your name, but yet again, I am no Spymaster.”
Maker above, Leliana likely knew all of their secrets. Another reason why she highly respected the woman, and another reason why she needed to apologize personally; who knew what the woman could unveil should she become spiteful.
“I did see that you had done Templar training, but nothing mentioned you officially joining their ranks.” He continued.
Of course, that would be something he finds. The esteemed ex-templar, now commander of the Inquisition, finding that their savior was a deserter of the very group he pledged his life to.
Of course, she wouldn't correct him; that she did, infact, join their ranks, and the only reason he hadn't found that out was due to the few Trevelyans that had enough power to pull some strings.
“I was sent for training, but didn't stay for long.”
She hid her lips behind the glass, and Cullen motioned for her to continue.
Brangwen hummed begrudgingly, tapping her glass as she mulled over what to exactly say.
“I left. Everything was too,, official, I suppose. Too strict.”
Cullen nodded, perhaps understanding where she was coming from, or perhaps saw through her lies that structure was the reason she didn't stay.
After all, everything about her spelled strict and structured.
“What did you do instead, then?”
Brangwen shrugged.
“A sword-for-hire, of sorts, for the Trevelyans. I was too disgraceful for denying my family's wishes to come back, but too skilled to let it be wasted.”
She frowned in thought.
“We prefer to keep eachother a secret.”
A pointed look was shot to Cullen, signaling to not tell anyone of this, and he nodded in turn.
“Hopefully, that doesn't ruin whatever respect you held for me.”
“Of course not. I could hardly blame you, either. The templars in recent years have left a… sour taste, in the mouths of many.”
That's not mentioning the traitors within their ranks, and feeding red lythium to their soldiers.
“In fact, it explains some admirable qualities about you.”
That certainly piqued her interest.
“Please, do tell. I thought for sure my form had offended you.”
A jest. Her voice was lighter, less brash, a tone reserved for few. Or, the alcohol was working it's magic in easing her tension.
“I have no qualms with your form.”
He shook his head, sounding incredulous, as if it was impossible to critique her fighting.
“I have seen you spar. It's very…fluid, independent. You don't stick to any rules of fighting like other soldiers do. It'd be good to teach some of our own soldiers your tricks.”
Brangwen laughed, shaking her head at the thought.
“Please, they are far too inexperienced with dirty fighting to spar. They couldn't handle me.”
“I could handle you.”
Bran arched an eyebrow, a sultry smile that was meant to stay hidden teased at her lips.
“Is that so?”
She placed down her drink, resuming her stance with a cocky tilt of her head.
Cullen sputtered for a moment, a blush rising to his cheeks.
“I- yes, in a fighting way-”
He pulled at his collar, taking a swift gulp of the Ostwick ale to try to fight off the rising heat in his face.
It didn't help.
“I'll hold you to that, then.”
Brangwen replied, eyeing him up and down, like a predator sizing her prey. She could sense his leave was coming soon, with how he fidgeted and squirmed, unable to carry the weight of her green eyes on him; as was common whenever their talks turned to a more teasing banter.
“Yes. I, uhm, must be off now. Matters to attend to, and such-”
There it was, that hurried attempt to leave before he embarrassed himself further.
He moved over, placing the unfinished drink on the dresser she leaned against.
Brangwan reached out for his hand, not touching him, but it stalled him all the same.
“Thank you, for checking on me, and staying. I know I'm not the easiest person to approach, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”
How strange her voice sounded, to be so genuine and soft. It sounded like an entirely separate woman, one not yet so hardened and broken by the woes of life.
A moment of shock flitted across his face, keeping a pause that had the air sparkling with tension.
“Of course. Besides, I've met worse people to approach.”
Cullen smiled that stupid, lopsided smile, the very same he’d given her when she asked to hear his rant when they first properly talked.
“Sleep well, Inquisitor.”
“You as well, Commander.”
Cullen nodded, before taking his leave, leaving Brangwen to her lonesome.
Preparing for bet was a meticulous task, especially with how she told herself she must polish her equipment and sharpen her swords before finally resting, but time seemed to blur as she did so.
The last few moments with Cullen mulled over in her head, examining and re-examining everything; which was good, as it kept her mind off the events in Therinfal.
She had finally slinked in bed and got comfortable, closing her eyes to allow sleep to take over, when her eyes shot open at a thought.
“... Cole, are you still in here?”
No answer.
By the good graces of Andraste, she hoped he didn't see any of that.