faderift | What Can One Grey Warden Do?

WHO: Hercules, Jamie, Kain, Rachette, Alistair, Kaidan, Bethany, Dorian, Anders, and Nathaniel.
WHAT: The ambush and capture of Lord Livius Erimond
WHEN: Drakonis 4
WHERE: The Western Approach
NOTES: Info on this post. Feel free to start your own mingle threads for the journey there and back. Warning for violence.

It doesn't really rain here. The skies are blue and the sun is glaring, the sands shifting only when a merciful breeze blazes through, which isn't often. It's hardest on Team D, which has no shade or shelter. The other two teams are tucked away in the shadows, impossible to see as Erimond's party enters the gorge.

They had seen the demons from afar, Nathaniel peering through a spyglass. There are eight of them, each bound to a mage, and Nathaniel has chosen to continue with the plan, though he has urged everyone not to try to fight, only to push through with the plan as-is and get out. They are all very much outnumbered, but all they need to do is take one man.

So stay hydrated and move quickly, team. Anything can happen in the next few minutes.

[OOC: I will tag into each team thread as the action reaches each team. Feel free to mingle on team threads before then and react to the action in other threads. Also, please start your own threads for travel mingling, if you want that sort of thing. This will keep everything organized for everyone's AC purposes.]

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He blinks, at first. The question doesn't make sense. And then, slowly, it sinks in. He hadn't been killed summarily. The announcement had made it clear that no reprisals would be allowed. He wasn't simply discardable in the eyes of the law like so many millions of mages had been before. The law finally saw him as a person.

As quickly as he feels hope, it fades. Hundreds had paid for that, and most of them, while they'd condoned the Circles and abuse of mages, they'd not hurt anyone themselves. They hadn't deserved that.

"Rights are... there's no way to describe how that feels. But the price was so high." There's no defensive anger here with Nate. He'll argue with so many at the drop of a hat, use his anger as a smokescreen to keep from being vulnerable the same way he's used humor, but Nate's more than earned honesty. "If..."

A billion ifs. None of them matter, not 'if only they'd gotten rid of Meredith,' 'if only they'd elected a new Viscount,' 'if only Elthina had cared,' if and if and if. As no one else has come up with an idea how they could have saved the mages from certain death, then his analysis, Justice's analysis, of the Chantry's destruction being the only way at that point in time had to be true. That doesn't mean he's happy with that.

Nathaniel doesn't try to offer words to fend off those thoughts. Anders, perhaps against all cosmic sense of justice, is benefiting from the rights he fought for. Or maybe it is justice, that he didn't have the satisfaction of dying for those rights as he had expected. Maybe it is justice that he has to live with the guilt. But he doesn't have to be alone.

"This system existed before the Inquisition. Before mages were free. The best they could've snatched you for was apostasy, till the Circles fell. You just have to know the law."

Still. Mages are humans now. Nathaniel was never a champion of this cause, but it's good to see Anders finally having things work in his favor. It's been a long time coming.

"All they needed was apostasy to justify an execution." He holds up a hand and lets it glow green with Creation magic. "This is the only reason they didn't. I'm exceptionally good at healing. Exceptionally useful."

There's a hint of bitterness in the word because it's a cause for so many more ifs. It hurts to know that so many died without knowing freedom, without counting as people. But they have it now. The law sees him as a criminal, but it sees him.

He takes a breath and the green fades.

"But apostasy is no longer a crime. The desire for freedom is no longer a wish for something illegal. I... How does it feel? Impossible. I'm... I'm alive to see this. I didn't think it possible."

Nathaniel rubs Anders' back while he talks.

"Outliving the catastrophe. It's a strange life, but you'll pick up on it. And I know exactly where to start."

He pulls a paper from his pack. "Councilor LeBlanc asked me to share a few options with you, regarding our friend and his fate."

It's hard not to stare at the paper. Anders hadn't asked about her research because he hadn't deserved anything from her, but she'd saved it. She'd saved it and passed it on to someone who was a known friend of his, and for a moment he has to fight to keep his composure.

"Please thank her, if you get the chance? I don't think... I wronged her when hiding my identity, and yet she's given these over. She's a better person than I, and she won't want to hear from me." He'll give her space. It will hurt, but he owes her that much at the very least.

In the meantime, he's unrolling the paper and starting to read. There are five possible rituals, all of them complicated in different ways, it seems, but that's five ways he hadn't known of earlier. There could be a way to help himself and Justice.

"Maker. These are... They're difficult, but they're doable, Nate. I'll need help, but..." But they exist. There are chances.

"She said she gave her word. She will help you and Justice separate. She's an honorable woman."

Honor. A trait he didn't hope to find in an Orlesian. But she has her own set of Fereldan virtues, and Nathaniel respects her greatly.

"She'll help you. I'll help you. We'll do whatever it takes to get you both safely apart. You're not alone."

"She did give her word. But I wasn't going to hold her to anything she promised Detlef." That wouldn't have been right.

Anders takes another breath before tearing his gaze away from her notes.

"Thank you, Nate. You've... You've stood by me and helped me with so much already, and now this. I hadn't dared hope for this. Sought, but not hoped."

"It's overdue."

He thinks about what he told Leliana. Maybe Anders would think less of him if he knew Nathaniel was complicit in his crimes. Trying to ease a guilty conscience might be one way of dismissing his actions as selfish. But Nathaniel will live with guilt every day of his life, whether or not he helps Anders now. Now barely counts. Now is, very likely, too little and too late.

"I should have done more, before you left us." And less of some other things. "I'm sorry."

He plays with the paper, gaze leaving Nate's face for a time.

"I was angry when I left. It seemed like as soon as Jonas departed, the only one who noticed that the Templars were increasing their harassment was Justice. That it was only going to get worse. And then it did." Ser Pounce had been a sign, not just a loss. They had the power to take anything away from him that they wanted, and they were systematically doing so.

"But you've been here for me since. And the fact of the matter is if it had been people furious about your family infiltrating the ranks and harassing you, I don't know that I would have done much differently than you did." In some ways, joining with Justice had been helpful. His eyes had been opened to the world so much more than before.

"I'm not going to hold the past against you. Most certainly not when you're likely the key reason I'm still drawing breath." Without the suggestion to turn himself in, Leliana would have found him first. Without having a witness to back up what happened the first time Anders was among the Wardens, Herc wouldn't have believed him. No. Anders had gone into the situation expecting to die, and without Nate, he very likely would have.

He hadn't thought of it in those terms. It's still not enough, somehow. Still not enough after so much destruction was wrought, after his ill-thought words led to something so terrible. But Anders doesn't yet see why joining with Justice wasn't good. For Nathaniel to apologize now would mean nothing. And it had taken both of them to accomplish this possession. Anders, a chronically terrible decision-maker, and a spirit following the horrendous advice of a friend. What a disaster.

"I..." He looks at his hands, palms up, fingers curling lazily. I was too late when it was Thomas. Or Father. You're my saving throw. How personal does that feel? I'm just trying to break a losing streak with you.

"You're welcome."

What Can One Grey Warden Do?

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