faderift | ( closed ) one track mind, one track heart

Last minute meetings demanded over the crystals, a trend she truly does not wish to see continued.

Anders is, for now, in the company of Grey Wardens, though she might not have allowed them to take him even now, if not for Bethany's determination in protecting Leliana in that tent. It did not spark trust in her, not when the lies had been so great and so drawn out from many parties, but it allows her to relent enough that she can speak to her fellow Advisers before they are met with Anders and the Grey Wardens who will doubtless have arguments to make.

It is a strange thing, this. She stands, and she knows not what she feels. She is not entirely sure she knows what she thinks. In the moment, it feels more as though her lungs are bursting from too lung spent underwater, even if she has air to breathe now - like she is treading water in a storm, and knows not when the next crash of a wave will come, only that it is inevitable. Leliana feels raw and wrung out, and she despises this weakness that still lingers in her, ever persistent. Believing in her friends had been foolish. Trusting them had been stupid.

She stands in the War Room, looking out the window and waiting for all to arrive, and only when they are all gathered does she speak.

"I have uncovered some..." Trailing off is not typically her way, but Leliana's jaw clenches and unclenches as she tries to navigate how to articulate this past the dryness in her throat. She seems much as she always does, more than likely, save a little colder and more distant. The traces of teasing and light comments have appeared less and less in their meetings, these past weeks. Perhaps bluntness would be best; serve it to them simply. "The criminal Anders has been uncovered as living under an assumed name and identity within the Inquisition."

But she carries on, not yet allowing for interruption. "He is in the custody of three Grey Wardens, who are bringing him here presently." His staff rests on the War Table, confiscated, and she lets her gaze sweep over it. "I intend to begin immediate investigations to uncover the span of his influence, determine how many concealed his identity and determine his purpose here. Doubtless you have as many questions as I, and as much to say on the matter. "

And they have every right to any rage and indignation they might have. Leliana feels it keenly, and there is not a one of them it has not impacted, some more closely than others, just as it has been felt reverberating across all Thedas. She would love to see him dead, truly she would, though she would not give him the satisfaction of being a martyr, either.

There is silence, for a moment. Cassandra imagines the others feel as stunned and horrified as she herself does at the news. Anders. The criminal - murderer of innocents - living here, among them all. It is a wonder he had not repeated his actions, killed them all in their sleep or merely blown Skyhold to pieces as he had done to the chantry in Kirkwall.

Her stomach turns over at the thought. But Leliana is silent, waiting, and Cassandra pulls herself together, though her voice, when she finds it, is dry and raw.

"How long?" she asks first. "How long has he waited - plotted among us?" The damage he might have caused in that time - a part of her wants to flee the room now, to track the mage down herself and shake him until he confesses everything, but she makes herself stay where she is, hands pressing down on the War Table hard enough to hurt.

Cullen is silent, eyes slightly wide. His breath catches in his throat.

And suddenly, it's like he never left. He's in Kirkwall once more, watching in horror as the Chantry explodes, killing the Grand Cleric and the dozens of other people inside. The debris raining down and killing those who weren't fast enough to get out of the way, who weren't lucky enough to be saved. Watching Knight-Commander Meredith and Grand Enchanter Orsino argue it out while the Champion and her companions stand by, Meredith calling for the Rite of Annulment for the Kirkwall Circle.

Mage against Templar, fighting for freedom. Meredith going crazy because of the red lyrium. So many people hurt because of one man, one mage. Hawke had seen to Anders' pardon, but that didn't mean Cullen had been happy about it. He wanted Anders to pay for his crimes, to answer for all of the countless of innocent deaths.

His hand grips at the hilt of his sword to keep it from shaking. It doesn't work, and in a moment of rage, he punches the nearest wall. It hurts, obviously, but it keeps him from shouting, yelling into the room. How could they have missed this? How could anyone of them? Have they been so blind to everyone around them that they didn't notice him? He can't imagine how Leliana feels, only discovering him now, when others have known for so long.

He takes a moment to compose himself. "Did the Wardens conspire to keep him secret from us?"

"Months," she informs Cassandra, and the word sticks, almost enough to sound close to a low rasp. "He lived as the mage 'Detlef,' a spirit healer who has healed my scouts and Inquisition forces many times over. Following the incident with the Crows I redoubled my observations and investigations of a number of Inquisition members, to ensure their loyalty. These efforts are ongoing, but 'Detlef' caught my interest. As I looked further into the matter, the truth became apparent, and I apprehended him in his healing tent."

It does not feel real, and Leliana learned long ago that, unfortunately, that has very little bearing on whether or not events have truly come to pass. It had not seemed real when Marjolaine's knife cut into her, either. When Cullen strikes the wall she does not flinch, nor move. She watches only with sympathy. She remembers seeing him in Kinloch. She remembers how he had been suffering, and she can only imagine how this must feel for him - for all of them. Only three of them were servants of the Chantry, but Josephine has a heart more sensitive than many she has known, and she dreads to think what all of them must make of her for not catching this sooner.

"No." That she can inform Cullen with certainty. "Their appointed spokesperson, Warden Hansen, assures me that he found out only yesterday, and had planned to approach us this very day. I was afforded access to a Warden contact on the crystals that confirmed this information. In the communication itself, Warden Hansen had asserted that the Inquisition would have to be informed, and promptly. This was not a plot amongst the Wardens, though I fully intend to investigate further."

She holds herself straight, calm, and it shields a grief in her that she had not anticipated. Alistair had hidden it from her, and well can she imagine why, if he assumed the Advisers would learn the truth from Warden Hansen soon enough. That does not reduce the sting of finding one she has long trusted as a brother has betrayed her.

"However," she continues, "there are two that I know of amongst the Grey Wardens who have known since their arrival here of his presence and concealed it, for they had travelled with him before. Perhaps more, although the knowledge was not spread throughout their ranks prior to the communication. There are also those others who collaborated with the Champion in the past. They may have kept his presence secret for months. Varric, Isabela and Merrill can hardly be beyond doubt," and she pauses, "Zevran, as well. Beyond that I have yet to determine. I plan to interrogate all those who had an association with Detlef and with Anders, to see what poisons or influence he might have aspired to."

Josephine hangs back by the wall during the beginning of the meeting. As soon as the name Anders is mentioned, she knows that emotions will be running high. She did not know the man before the actions he took in Kirkwall, and she has scant personal connections to the city-state itself. This is not an argument she can truly engage in on the same level as everyone else, and she is certain her own opinion will only make matters worse. So she stays silent, biting her tongue, at least until she can say something about how they might work towards protecting the reputation of the Inquisition. Something useful.

She'd had as little idea as the rest of them that they had been harboring the mage, but she finds the revelation does not surprise her. The Inquisition is its own political strength these days, fractured and fragile as it may be, and is one of the few places in Thedas where mages may have both freedom and security. If the question is where would one hide a abomination, the answer is clearly Skyhold. Right under their noses.

While Leliana remains stoic when Cullen punches the wall, Josephine jumps a little, her nerves frayed. She draws her arms across her chest to try and calm herself. The others know what they would like to do next. That leaves her.

Once Leliana has finished detailing her interrogation plans, Josephine draws a breath. "Yes, we will have to uncover as much as information as possible to ascertain to what level we have been compromised." She looks at both Cassandra and Leliana in turn. "We must also think on what we will tell the rest of the Inquisition as a whole. We all know this will not remain a secret for much longer." Better for them to consolidate their official stance before the rumour mill a head-start.

Then, Josephine turns her attention to Cullen, eyebrows furrowing in concern. "How is your hand, Commander?"

Months.

Cassandra does not punch the wall, but her nails dig grooves into the surface of the War Table as she seethes.

Her stomach cramps horribly when Leliana mentions Varric's name. He had known. Of course he must have known; that much is obvious as soon as Leliana suggests it. But the thought had not occurred to her yet, and after their conversation in the Emprise, the fact that he had kept this from her, that he had looked her in the eye and refused to let her take the blame for the Herald's death, all while holding back yet more information that might put the Inquisition at risk...

It is a blow, as sudden and painful as the slap she had levied across his face. She snarls, glaring down at the table, only to look up in astonishment at Josephine's words.

"Tell the rest of the Inquisition?" she asks, baffled. "Remain a secret? Of course it will not remain a secret." She looks to Leliana, seeking agreement. This is not a difficult thing. A horrible thing, yes, but not difficult. "We shall tell them the truth. And they will all be there for the execution."

He knew this was coming. Hoped it was coming. The moment he agreed to protect Anders, he agreed to be prodded at by authority figures and loathed by angry people. But, you know, that's been his life for the last ten years anyway. It might as well be for two associates instead of just the one. He looks politely resigned, and feels oddly like he's about to be lectured by his father.

"Warden Howe."

Leliana has the distinct pleasure of being able to interview the Wardens one on one, and the first she would speak with is the son of Rendon Howe, whose body and soldiers she feathered with arrows. It had been a horrific day, and he had been a horrific man. She makes no mention of her involvement in his father's death, nor his father at all. Those are crimes long past, and it is an entirely different problem that she would see addressed.

"Shall we spare each other the usual games of interrogation?"

"I would appreciate it." Nathaniel inclines his head politely. "I'm here of my own free will, specifically to answer your questions. Consider me fully at your disposal."

No purpose in trying to drag things out of him when he offers them freely.

"Good." That is lovely to hear. Her voice remains even, for all the anger pulsing in her veins.

Part of her feels like her hands are tied, as though a woman of the Chantry and the Maker, as though one who is not a mage can have no empathy and outrage on behalf of mages. Anders complains that all mages are made victims, and he is right. But so too is he right that not all mages are murderers, and the simple fact of who she is does not mean she shares or even tolerates those damaging and dangerous inclinations.

Her anger and her hurt has no place here. She has no right to it, when she is not the wronged party, but that does little to stay the hurt, especially in the wake of Justinia's death.

"I know you are a comparatively new arrival at Skyhold," she starts, calmly. "What knowledge do you have of Anders, his associates and activities since you arrived here? Or before."

A broad start, but such will allow her to find other avenues to explore.

"Before I arrived, I hadn't seen him since the night he destroyed the Chantry. That night, I was in Kirkwall with my sister. I saw her to the docks and ran toward the chaos to see what I could do. At that point, Meredith was a giant lyrium statue trying to kill everyone, so I helped. Before that, I saw him briefly in the Deep Roads. Before that, it was 9:31, and we were brothers-in-arms.

"Since I arrived, I met Anders on my first day here. We've been roommates. I was the one who convinced him to turn himself in. The associates I know of are all people who knew him before he came here, chiefly Wardens, and his activities have been healing the sick and wounded and adopting a small, hyperactive kitten that climbs on my face when I'm trying to sleep.

"The associates I've been aware of are Bethany Hawke, Kaisa Daesun...Maker, I don't know. Any number of his fellows from Kirkwall, I'd imagine. Velanna knows him, but she's only just arrived. Give me a piece of paper and I'll write down the people I can think of."

She listens, patient, and as he speaks slides a piece of parchment towards him, a quill, some ink.

"Bethany Hawke and Kaisa Daesun are both Grey Wardens," she considers, aloud, gaze narrowing. "I was under the impression from Warden Hansen that the Grey Wardens were not collaborating to keep Anders' identity hidden. Indeed, any indication that the Wardens as a group concealed him from the Inquisition would seriously jeopardise any standing you have to defend his life."

And part of her wishes, wishes they would make that blunder, because she would so love to see him executed, even if the thought of allowing such a man to become a martyr, to be celebrated, sickens her. He should have to live and suffer through each day with the knowledge of what he has done. He should feel that weight upon him.

"I assume those others that travelled with the Champion are well aware." It seems the only sensible deduction.

"The Wardens as a group did not. As I said, I urged him to come forward, and he has. Bethany, Kaisa and I arrived only recently."

Nathaniel twitches a smile at her.

"Even so, Anders' assumed identity was not assumed so he could escape the law. To the contrary, he assumed it because he was afraid people would circumvent the law to achieve a personal vendetta. I told him to give the Inquisition the chance to be better than that."

He begins to write names. Completely cooperative.

That much she is aware of, that they are new arrivals. She spoke with Bethany soon after she first arrived, and nods stiffly.

Not entirely despite herself, she huffs out a bitter breath of laughter. "Your friend seems very fond of painting everyone else as the villain. He and mages are not alone in their suffering, nor in their hatred of it."

Very quietly spoken, and she waits, until he has had a few moments to write names before she continues. Softly, though not without-- heat, a low burning fire that she is never truly free of, she continues. "Do you believe what he did was right?"

"No." Nathaniel was there that night, and saw the madness. Experienced the fear when the explosion first happened. He shakes his head. "Right and wrong don't enter into it, when it comes to Anders. You have to think of it a whole different way. From boyhood, he was taught death. Mages killed or made Tranquil at the slightest provocation. Death was the cure for being a mage. I witnessed it. The templars who persecuted him...they wanted any excuse to kill him. He hadn't been worse than an annoyance they had to keep chasing after, and they wanted him dead. I...missed telling you something, because I didn't witness it. Bethany Hawke did, apparently. In Kirkwall, they set a trap for Anders by finding a mage he once loved and making him Tranquil. So that when he broke in to save him, he found him like that. There's no reason for that except to hurt him. Pain and death. He was schooled in it. It must have seemed cheap, if it was flaunted in his face every turn. Pretty soon, I suppose he started treating it like a language. To get through to people who speak nothing but death to you, you speak death back to them. It's not right, but it's the world as it was taught to him.

"Imagine if someone spoke love to him, just once. That might've given us a different outcome."

Edited 2016-03-07 04:54 (UTC)

To get through to people who speak nothing but death to you, you speak death back to them. It's not right, but it's the world as it was taught to him.

It strikes a cord in her, too familiar, too painful. Her experience was nothing to that of mages, this she knows, but the Left Hand does not deal in love and affection. The Left Hands is a knife wrapped up in shadows, as surely as the Right is a valiant sword, held up in the name of what is right. She manipulates, she collects secrets, and she kills as needs must. Always for a good cause, always for the right reason, but it is never right. Justinia's orders fulfilled, but Leliana's heart that must bear up under the weight of what those orders truly mean, their actual cost.

She, at least, had love spoken to her. She had known the Maker's kindness and His heart.

"Even those who know love can turn to the darkness," she says, carefully. "I had thought that he found solace in the friendships forged with the Champion and their band. Not without flaw, certainly, but my information gave me reason to believe that there was love in those bonds."

It is not a dismissal, more just a question. "How much love must a person be given before they realise that murder is not right?"

A question as much for herself as for Anders, though Nathaniel Howe need not know such.

"I...don't think they could've known him well enough to love him. His friends in Kirkwall."

Nathaniel has no idea of Leliana's struggle. He knows his own. He knows how narrowly he escaped a darker path. But...proper time.

"They only knew him while he was possessed by Justice. I knew them both, separately. Justice..."

His teeth click together. No. He doesn't have to be diplomatic about Justice when Anders isn't around.

"Justice wasn't good. Anders was well on his way to being good, till he left the Wardens, but Justice never was. Justice only had the one concern, to the exclusion of all other virtues. The day I saw Anders in the Deep Roads, he was thin and pale, exhausted, he'd neglected his own appearance, things that were against his nature as I knew him. And to hear him talk now...Justice demands sacrifices of him that contradict his own self. Justice made him come here in the first place. Justice is willing to sacrifice Anders for his own sense of self-righteousness. This single-mindedness is a quality of Justice, not of Anders. When they were separate, I once heard Anders denounce the idea of the Circle separating from the Chantry. He had limits. Justice used to harass him about his apathy, not wanting to fight for mage freedom. He used to harass me the same way about...foolish things. And Anders, lacking his own direction...he was ripe for it. Nobody in Kirkwall could've seen the signs, or told the difference between a happy Anders and an unhappy Anders, not in the way he dressed or spoke or carried himself.

"But if you see him the way he was by his own nature, happy and free to choose, and then see him the way he is now..."

Nathaniel opens a hand, letting the rest of that sentence complete itself in her mind.

There are so many that would strike against the Nightingale, in her past and her present, those who denounce the Inquisition and the Divine's Peace and so much, but they cannot reach her heart.

Nathaniel Howe deals in words that cut her to the quick, and does not even know it. At least she is terribly good at appearing as though she has everything in hand and in control. He speaks of people not knowing another well enough to love them, of happiness in your own nature and in freedom, and there is part of her that feels as though a tenuous, desperate grip is being slowly sabotaged, as though she is hanging to a cliff's edge and he is gradually pressing down on her knuckles with his weight.

Her jaw clenches for a moment as she considers his words. I knew a women possessed by a spirit, once. The most noble and kind woman I have ever met. I did not know her before she and the spirit of Faith were bound together. She considers saying it, and sharply cuts the thought short. It is too close and too personal a thing to unveil in circumstances such as these, and Wynne could never be compared to Anders, or what Justice had made Anders become, if what Nathaniel says is true.

"Any one quality left unchecked can be a danger," she agrees, cautiously. What is his game? What is his motivation in speaking thus? "If what you say is true, then what Justice has done to Anders is a tragedy. To be robbed of freedom of will, even, when freedom was all he pursued is horrific, but remains that Anders and Justice are bound together. No matter who he was before, he and Justice are still one."

She has seen abomination restored to their old selves, but Wynne died releasing Faith.

There is a long, breathless pause. Nathaniel teeters on a fence, stares down at the side he's considering, and looks back. This is the perfect opportunity. Everything could be made or destroyed by this moment. But even though he is Fereldan, Nathaniel is versed in the Game. His own mother played it against him when he was a child, and he knows what it looks like when an opportunity is ripe. She is sympathetic. She has laid down a single condition. Now is the time.

"That," he says, quietly, as if Justice could be listening now, "does not have to continue to be true."

He glances up at Leliana to gauge her reaction.

She has seen it done before, had watched when Connor was freed, yet Leliana holds her tongue, keeps her expression carefully schooled. She will not be played for a fool, be manipulated, and she will not risk this Inquisition any more than it has already been rocked.

"Explain," she says, calm and quiet - keeping her cards to herself, for the time being.

He has not earned her trust, nor her good will, and neither has Anders. Feeling for him is not the same as forgiveness. Feeling for him is not the same as no longer wanting to see him suffer. But Nathaniel has... said words that bear consideration, even if she will interrogate them from every side, consider every motivation and try to scrutinise them.

Nathaniel holds her gaze and lays two words at her feet.

"Connor. Guerrin."

There. He has sealed Anders' fate. There's no turning back now. Maybe one day, Anders will forgive him. Maybe one day, Nathaniel will forgive himself.

Leaning forward, Leliana studies Nathaniel carefully. It seems a risky card to play. There are so many ways it could go awry, and it had not been easy to see Connor freed. Based on what Nathaniel has said thus far, Leliana starts to assemble the pieces of the puzzle. It is hardly a great leap - of course Justice could not know, and by extension, neither could Anders.

"You want to see them parted." Not impossible, she thinks. "Why?"

There are so many reasons to imagine, but she wants to hear his reasons. Neutrally, she elaborates: "Why is it important to you?"

Of course this question would be asked. And as he decided before, he will hide nothing.

"Because I'm one of the ones who failed him, well before this occurred. And I'm done with it."

He lets out a breath.

"I...may have been part of the reason Justice considered possessing a living, willing person."

Edited (DAMMIT) 2016-03-14 21:54 (UTC)

Well, this isn't quite what he had in mind by we've gotta stay ahead of this, but at least he is going to be being entirely honest when he says they had intended to tell the Advisers as soon as possible. Today would have been idea, though now he's wishing he'd planned for the Nightingale swooping in with knowledge so early in the day. Grey Warden luck, seemed like.

He stands tall, donning his full uniform, Rebellion at his back and Striker Eureka at his side. A Warden with close to twenty years experience, a Fereldan soldier before that, and more time spent in the Deep Roads than he'd ever care to think about, and somehow he'd never quite walked into a scenario like this. It'd be invigorating, if he was in a mood to be aggravatingly optimistic.

"Advisers," he offers in greeting, bowing just slightly as he walks in, leaving Bethany and Nathaniel with Anders. "I'd like to start by apologising that you found out as you did." His manner is not unfriendly, though far more the soldier and less the man whose likely to shout you a free ale in the tavern if you beat him at darts. "Anders had only just turned himself in to the Wardens, and we'd been planning to inform you, today, that he was here and that he will be remaining in the custody of the Grey Wardens, though the Spymaster pre-empted us."

Onto business. "He's one of us, and that makes him our responsibility. The Wardens do not agree with what he's done," Herc clarifies, tone harsh for the first time. "I intend to see him atone, right to the end. That was the Champion's ruling, and that's the Grey Warden way. And if he so much as makes a move to harm anyone in the Inquisition or beyond, outside of self defence? I'll take his head off myself."

Short, sweet, to the point. "I've got plenty more to say on the matter, but I'm sure you've all got a lot of questions."

Bethany herself seems to be the epitome of serene calm. While she waits for someone to ask her questions, she is standing with her hands folded in front of her, and her staff is fastened to her belt in the back. She stands tall, for well, Bethany, her brown eyes meeting her questioner's without flinching. Inwardly she might be jumping up and down in nervousness, but you could not tell it from the Grey Warden standing before you.

He's stiff.

It's not just standing in front of Cullen, a man whom he holds responsible for a great deal of death. It's also Justice ranting in his mind about Cullen, about how the Seekers failed to curtail the Templars and Cassandra is an example of that, and about how Leliana sought to protect one of the root causes of the suffering of mages in Kirkwall. The only relief comes from the fact that Justice has nothing to gripe about when it comes to Josephine, so Anders is subconsciously facing her a little more than the rest.

His arms are at his sides, not crossed in front, not holding onto robes, and both take effort of will. Due to that and Justice, his expression is ever-so-slightly distracted.

At least he's breathing calmly and his eyes are a golden-brown. It's the little things.

Cullen's been across the room from him, careful to check his anger.

There's a part of him that wants to go up to him, to provoke the mage within and have an all-out brawl. To fight for all of those who died by Anders' actions, not just in Kirkwall, but even in the events that spiraled after. Cullen knows he's far from innocent in anything related to mages, but he was doing his duty in most cases. And Kirkwall... he doesn't want to think about how his anger was manipulated.

It's unconscious as he walks over, fully intent on moving to have a conversation with Cassandra when he stops in front of Anders, turning to look at him. His gaze is cold, his tone sharp and low. "You've caused so much chaos and yet you stand here silent." He pauses, not removing his eyes from Anders. "Nothing to say for yourself?"

Anders meets Cullen's eyes, raising an eyebrow.

"Funny, that this comes from you." His voice is ice and equally as quiet. "It must have been satisfying to finally run down mages in the streets after you failed to get that pleasure in Kinloch Hold."

There's a shake of his head. "You don't want the full of what I have to say. But I'll make it short. I killed innocents. I went to the Wardens expecting to die, hoping that this way my death didn't cripple the freedom of my people. You? You've killed innocents, and... what? Nothing, because they're mages. You don't feel a bit of guilt over that, do you?"

How many have died because of Cullen? He'd tried so hard to have innocents slaughtered in Ferelden's Circle after all of the guilty parties were dead. Of course he'd gone to Kirkwall and joined up with Meredith. The amount of Tranquil made, mages slain, there will never be an accounting, because in the eyes of people like the man before him, they don't count.

"Satisfying? You think it satisfying for me to kill a mage?"

His hand clenched at the hilt of his sword, jaw clenching equally as tightly. "I did my job. My duty. I was young while I was at Kinloch. I was -" He pauses abruptly, pursing his lips together. Kinloch Hold is a very touchy subject for him. But Anders wouldn't understand that.

"I do feel guilt. Guilt over how many innocent mages were killed on Meredith's orders. I realized that too late. But you? You answered one wrong with another wrong, and look what it's caused."

"Your duty? You realized too late?" He shakes his head. "You were second-in-command. You thought it fine that so many were ordered killed or made Tranquil up until Meredith turned on Hawke? That was when the realization came?"

Anders takes a slow breath. "I tried to stop a wrong with a wrong. I admit that. I knew the Rite of Annulment was coming. Anyone with half a brain did. I couldn't see any other way to give the mages the slightest chance of running or fighting, and I regret the lives taken that were not Elthina's. You? You're hiding behind excuses. Your job, your duty, Meredith's orders, you were young. Well done. You've answered my question completely - you feel no guilt for your actions as you've chosen to put them on others."

Justice wants to help argue. But Justice's help will be no help, and Anders' stiffness is not merely the disgust he feels for the man before him, the one who will never understand that mages are people. Instead he has to keep the spirit at bay. Already he may be speaking too much. Cullen has an army that the Wardens cannot match; if Cullen swings with the blade he's holding so tightly that will be it and it will be unanswered.

Edited (I will always fail html) 2016-03-07 03:43 (UTC)

"It is because of someone like you that I became that way!" He shouts, exhaling a breath that he didn't realize he was holding.

That wasn't supposed to come out. Not many people know of what happened to him back in Kinloch, and if there was anyone Cullen didn't want to know, it would definitely be Anders. "I was tortured by mages when Kinloch fell. For days. And you blame me for the way I reacted?" A brief pause. "And Kirkwall - all of the anger I felt in Ferelden only amplified when I was under Meredith. Yes, I wanted the mages dead, tried to find anything I could to back up her claims. And yes, I feel guilty for everything I've done. For every mage I've killed whether innocent or to blame."

He takes a step closer. "But you? You feel no guilt, because what do the lives of innocents matter if mages do not have freedom?"

"For days? Oh, you poor thing." And now he's crossing a line, but he's too angry to care. "Compare that to a year for me. A year in the dark, alone, left by your brothers in Kinloch in hopes I would do them a favor and die down there!" And that's something he's only told one person about, something he's held onto for so long.

He doesn't step back when Cullen gets in his space, but neither does he step forward. "You know nothing. About me, about the lives of mages who are regularly tortured for the whole of their lives. Who were held, who were beaten, who were raped, who had no rights and no hopes while the Circles stood. Days of torture are not nothing. But you have lived a life where all around you people were being hurt constantly, and you ignored them."

Ignored them, helped hurt them. He sincerely doubts an angry Cullen refrained from striking out, because he knows well how metal fists and booted feet often struck mages.

"You may well be willfully ignorant enough to have missed what Meredith was doing. You're clearly being willfully ignorant in ignoring everything I've said about guilt and innocents. I'll not repeat it. You're not worth it."

Leliana has been listening - it is what she does, after all. Listens, watches, and she wonders if she has not been listening and watching enough, for this to go unnoticed. Are there those within her ranks that helped keep this secret? Is she simply blind, incapable? Has she endangered the Inquisition by letting such a man dwell within it for months unchecked. Oh, certainly, in the guise of a healer, but what damage might he have been able to wreak? What Templars might have lost their lives to his hatred of them, from an apathy to healing those who he thinks so foul and corrupted and worthy of death?

She remembers Kinloch. She remembers thinking it reprehensible, that not even animals should be kept in such conditions. She remembers seeing Wynne fighting there for her life, for the lives of all the mages, and how willing the Templars had been to lean to the Rite of Annulment, even though it would have cost innocent lives of mages and templars both. Cullen had still been trapped inside the tower, after all, and there were sure to have been others hiding or trapped.

It is when Anders starts to speak about the lifelong suffering of mages that she stands. His anger is justified, yes. She agrees with so much of what he says, all of it, but what he did? To think that death is an answer?

And Cullen is a good man, one who tries, who is doing so much to try and counter his own struggle with mages. He is a faithful man with a good heart who struggles with the past as much as any of them do. She will not see him suffer for striking a man under custody, nor in goading Justice's ire, as she had. Bethany had been there to step between her and Anders, and so now she steps easily between Cullen and Anders - she makes no move to stop the strike immediately, should there be risk of one. Cullen can stop his own fist, unless he needs her to deflect it at the last moment, then she leaves this to his control - his resolve. She believes that he does not need her to stop him.

"Your ire is justified," she says to Anders over her shoulder, still looking at Cullen. "None of the crimes committed against mages are acceptable. To have lived in such conditions is unimaginable, and to know that innocent mages have suffered when there are those of us guilty of so much who walk free is reprehensible." Her hand rests on Cullen's arm, then, just lightly. "But you misjudge Cullen. He is a good man, one who joined the Inquisition because he knew change was necessary, and he was willing to fight for it, for peace for everyone in Thedas. It was not an act sanctioned by his superiors, but one he took because he knew it was right."

She looks to Anders properly, then, and there is something pained in her expression that lingers for a moment before she seals it away, though it is never truly gone. It still burns in her, has burned ever since Marjolaine betrayed her, and she knows well that such suffering cannot compare to a full year of imprisonment. "One groups suffering does not discount the suffering of any others. It does not earn any of us, mage, nor templar, nor any other a right to drown our empathy and our compassion. I saw Kinloch when I travelled with the Hero of Ferelden, and I saw the White Spire, and I believe this Inquisition has a chance to make the world a better place for mages and the faithful, both, for all in Thedas. Independent and in unity, not one above the other."

She really meant to just step in and stop a punch, but she's still a bard and still Leliana - speeches happen. Ask Morrigan, she can verify how annoying it is.

"If we want things to change, truly and permanently, how does comparing our wounds and injuries help us in any way other than to remind us of the wrongs done to us, and allow the wounds to continue to fester?"

Cullen's fist had gone up to strike the mage, and when the Inquisition's Spymaster took it upon herself to step in between two colliding forces, he held himself back. He will not take the risk of possibly hurting her just to make a point to someone who doesn't want to see it. His arm lowers, and he takes a moment to breathe. Actually breathe, deep breaths in and out to calm himself down. He has not been this angry in years.

Still, her words ring true. Anders in justified in his anger, just as much as Cullen is in his. He takes a step back, still full of anger but calm, for now. There is no point in striking a man who has already turned himself in, despite how good it might feel temporarily. "It does not help us to fight." He states finally, looking to Leliana. "Forgive me. I've overreacted."

The raised fist hadn't surprised him. A mage talks back, of course a Templar is going to strike. And then Leliana steps in and forces Anders to realize he'd sold her so very short... and then Cullen lowers his fist. Anders can't bear to think that maybe she's right about Cullen. Not yet. She hasn't been that right about him, after all, so he'll take comfort in the denial he can still hold on to.

Every mage he'd cared about save one had nearly died at Cullen's urging, and then the one he'd cared about most had died where Cullen had authority. It's still something he can't accept yet.

All the same, some of the tension leaves his shoulders. She's the first person who isn't a friend to call his anger justified and it steals away his fury's momentum. Anders studies Leliana's eyes when she looks at him, and while he doesn't know her well enough to read her, he does believe she means what she says. After the study, he looks down. Here he is, with people standing with him for the first time who fully know what he is, and he's letting his hatred get away from him.

"It does not." There's a pause the length of a few breaths before Anders looks back up. His voice is level, calm, Justice receded back to weigh her words and contemplate where true justice lies in all of this. "For as little as it is worth, I do regret, and feel guilt for, the deaths of the innocents I caused." Not Elthina. Not Meredith. Not the templars that died that night. Everyone else, though, and there are so many.

"I've one question of Cullen, if he'll answer it." His gaze shifts from Leliana to the man in question. "Did you have anything to do with the fate of Senior Enchanter Thekla?"

He could ask about his network, on whose orders they'd been slaughtered, too, but they've already established Cullen acted in anger against people. What happened to Karl had been cold. Planned. Alrik had the most to do with it, but there's no way he would have gotten as far as he did without the support of someone in power. And Anders doesn't know if it can be a coincidence that the one mage taken from Kinloch Hold to Kirkwall suffered like that.

"We all struggle with the world." What it is, what it makes of them. Her hand lifts from Cullen's arm, and she draws back from between them, so they can talk. Cullen needs no forgiveness from her, certainly, and Anders temper at least appears to have cooled. They are adults, all of them, and it will not allow progress is she looms and hovers like... well. Like a reprimanding Chantry sister, in some of her experience. (They hadn't liked her very much, either. Too radical.)

Though she was not obviously holding her breath, she just feel the space between her shoulder blades ease when Anders agrees with her, though her posture remains upright.

Rather than immediately pull away, or linger unwelcome, she looks between them both.

"If you would both prefer, I can allow you space to speak more privately on these matters," she starts, careful in her wording - she has no intention of making Anders feel he is being abandoned to some dreadful Templar, nor Cullen feeling unsupported in the face of such an emotional evisceration. It is never easy to face what you have done. "Or I can remain."

Because maybe they will need an intermediary. Life as the Left Hand was unpredictable, though she is not sure this is the sort of adventure she'd ever had in mind when she began life as a bard.

"I'll answer it." He nods to Leliana. She's done more for him in these few moments than she might know - stopping him from being that Templar stereotype he had been so long ago. He shouldn't lash out just because Anders spoke like he did. He would have proved everything Anders had gone on about, proved that in the end, Templars can't do anything but harm and oppress mages. "Stay, please."

Cullen takes a deep breath, settling his anger deep within his chest to physically calm down. Of course Anders had a right to ask that. He knew Senior Enchanter Thekla from records, and from the way the templars had reacted toward him were appalling. "No. I had nothing to do with what happened to him." He pauses, finding the right words. "What happened to him was wrong. Tranquility shouldn't happen to anyone unless under the direst of circumstances. It was used to draw you out and I am sorry it happened."

He flinches at the last. Not the apology, but that the man knew why they'd hurt Karl. That was something he'd told absolutely no one. He hates being vulnerable more than nearly anything, hates how often the Templars had stripped him bare emotionally and broken him down, but in front of him stands someone who knows more than anyone else and he's a bloody Templar.

And Leliana will now likely know in mere hours, and how far will it spread?

Anders crosses his arms without even thinking about it. It had been stupid to ask in front of her, but he'd needed to know. He doesn't even have the comfort of suspecting Cullen is lying, not when the man is saying he's sorry. If he'd been involved he would have said he didn't know. It leaves a bitter taste on his tongue and a tight feeling in his chest, the latter of which is reflected in his voice when he speaks again.

"I..." Maker, he hates all of this, and the hatred and anger are so much safer than whatever this is. They can't hurt him ever again if he gives no more openings. "I ask," and there's some bitterness there, "that the details of that are not repeated. They hold no danger to Skyhold, and therefore are not relevant to anyone else."

For the most part she remains silent, only nodding at Cullen's request and taking a half step back so she is not still posing a physical barrier between them.

She watches and she listens, for that is what Leliana truly excels at, and only speaks softly when Anders voices his request. "So long as I deem that information is not pertinent to some threat, they will not pass me."

That is the best she can do, really, though her tone is not entirely cold. Sometimes things can be a risk in ways that cannot be anticipated. For the present moment, at least, Leliana cannot imagine how that information would be necessary to share. Disliking the man did not warrant cruelty.

He raises an eyebrow at her, straightening, himself turning cold.

"You deem. So this man you call good, this man who commands your troops, you don't trust to make that call? You question his intelligence and his ability to make that choice? The question wasn't for you."

Pertinent. The points she's earned with him are nearly lost, now. This is his. It's the secret he's held closest out of all of them, and it's bad enough Cullen may know the full context of it.

"If you've actually placed faith in him, then I'd think you'd allow him to answer."

"She is allowed to make that call. It is her duty to do so."

Cullen's tone is sharp, defending the Inquisition's Spymaster. It's not often that they defend each other; more often than not they are arguing until they are all blue in the face. But there is something about the Advisors that despite the amount they argue, or if they are angry with one another, they are a tightly-knit bunch that will protect one another just as fiercely they would protect the Inquisition.

"If Leliana needs to know, then I will tell her. But no one outside the three of us will know, and you have my word.

He'd always suspected Cullen was an idiot. At least now he has proof.

"Her duty to question your judgement. Your authority. Well. That does make the whole structure of the advisors' 'council' that much more clear." Cullen's a handpuppet, Leliana moving his limbs. Josephine is the moderator, and Cassandra is... Cassandra. Anders' arms cross in front of himself again defensively, because the world of hurt that could be done to him at the hands of these people has never been so clear and threatening. Killing him would be a mercy compared to what else they could do. And might. He'll have to keep his guard up at every possible moment.

"And you should well know your word has no worth to me. Keep it, and perhaps there will be value the next time you give it. Currently? I trust you as far as I can throw an Ogre."

"Why do I even bother? This is useless."

He tried to be reasonable, tried to be nice with Anders. He tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, allowing himself to be brought here in front of everyone when they could just certainly call for his head on a pike. But again, like a petulant child, Anders continues to throw a fit.

"If anything happens and you step out of line? Don't expect the Wardens to save you. There are plenty here who want you dead."

Nathaniel has been watching this fall apart quietly, but now, he can't stay silent. He approaches, eyes narrow.

"Are you, Commander, threatening to permit such chaos in the ranks that will allow the rabble to murder a man? Or are you saying it would be an organized assault, with you at the helm?"

Edited 2016-04-24 04:14 (UTC)

( closed ) one track mind, one track heart

for the advisers.

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Nathaniel Howe | Open for Interrogation

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Open for questioning!

Open for questions! lol...

this is a horrible decision.

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