Relaxation comes uneasily to both of themโNess hardly sits to eat, even here, prefers standing and hovering like a hummingbird who will die if made to be still for even one secondโbut they find their own version of it in these quiet nights together, leaning on opposite sides of the counter and talking about nothing of consequence.
Well. Usually nothing of consequence.
"Pride's made people do worse, I suppose," she says, dusting crumbs off her hands, "and far be it from me to pretend I've never done something stupid to save face."
She lets the conversation lull for a moment, enjoying the quiet and the company. Her hummingbird heart doesn't beat quite so fast in these after-hours conversations, the rushing ocean of her anxiety quieted to a wash of whispers. It's a little bit the privacy, a little bit the soft light of the cooking fire, a little bit the smells and sounds of good food cookingโbut it's a little bit Vanya, too, a little bit his soft smiles and quiet jokes. If Vanya is calm, she can be too.
"Seems like it'd be hard to know where to begin," she says, finally, glancing up to meet his eyes. "With a story like that. I imagine... a lot of little things added up, until there's the one thing that isn't even the worst, it's just the last thing you could stand."
There's a moment, with her catching his gaze, that he visibly realizes she's actually asking. A subtle switch, and one that doesn't unsettle him even if it does surprise him.
"...That's so," he agrees, after a brief pause. "It wasn't even. Well, it was sort of three leavings, I suppose, depending on how one looks at it. Reporting to the Inquisition instead of to the Order directly after I'd been injured. Then the formal resignation. And later, quitting lyrium. But those were all endings, of sorts, and I suppose you're asking about beginnings. In a way." He doesn't quite make it a question, but tilts it up just enough for her to confirm or deny.
It doesn't bother him to talk about, but so few people have asked without their own heavy context around it. He wants to be sure she is asking, before he wades into deeper waters. On the other hand, they're both comfortable and it will be some time before the food is ready. It's a quiet, private place, which would be a characteristically thoughtful way for her to bring up a subject they'd touched on some time before.
"I have notecards, if you'd prefer to quiz me on vocabulary," she pats her apron pocket, smiling, "but I am asking, yes. I've meant to for a while, I know you've wanted to be asked. I'm sorry it took me this long."
The apology comes with a twist to the smile, a self-aware little huff that says sorry, I can't help itโshe knows he won't think she's done anything wrong, and she is here asking now, but she's also herself. She can't help feeling bad for making him wait. That he'd hate for her to hold herself over the coals for it keeps her from falling all over them both about it, though, she just gives her apology and waits for his assurance that it's unnecessary.
"There's no need to apologize," he assures her, as predictably as she might wish. "It is not a story that burdens me, exactly, but I am happy to satisfy your interest as much as I can. I do warn you that it is not, by its nature, an especially satisfying answer."
Not that he thinks she'll react badly, but because it would be neater, if he could point to a thing that changed his mind and then the following point where he acted on that change of conviction.
"Remind me, have I told you much about my time in the Order? Beyond soup mishaps. I know that Nevarra is a bit different than some of the other countries in the South, as far as they handled Circles and Templars before the war."
Her smile spreads at his predicted reassurance, and she shrugs magnanimously at the warningโlife is rarely satisfying, or so the monks tried to tell her. In fiction, there are always big moments, dramatic climaxes that mark beginnings and endings. Life is rarely so kind as to signpost things in such a way.
"No, not much. Little stories here and there, but nothing about the day-to-day, or what you were doing before the War."
Which makes her think, and her brow furrows as she realizes:
"Truthfully, I don't know much about the Order as an organization beyond the general. Is every Templar stationed at a Circle, or are there other assignments? Were you in a Circle?"
"Setting aside Tevinter, which operates so differently I wouldn't venture to say ... most Templars were assigned to Circles before the Mage-Templar War, but not all of them. Some hunted demons and abominations; others tracked down apostates or mages who had been in the Circles but fled. In Nevarra, it was ... Our arrangements were necessarily more flexible than I've heard was the case elsewhere. Necromancers, and especially the Mortalitasi, had duties and influence among the nobility, which meant that they moved more freely and had a different relationship with Templars."
A brief flicker of a smile as he thinks of something particular.
"I was stationed at the Cumberland Circle, but I was lent out, for lack of a better term. It's the reason I'd fought an Envy demon before the attack a few years ago; that was one of the things I was pulled for, once. I saw more of the Necropolis than some because I was known to be reliable and good at my job. Senior enough to have some latitude, not so senior my duties kept me tied more closely to Cumberland."
There are so many threads to that that Ness wants to tug on, different parts of a tapestry that she itches to spend hours poring over, learning its detailsโan Envy demon, the Cumberland Circle, the Necropolis, what he'd heard of Circles elsewhere and if he'd ever gone hunting apostatesโ
but this is Vanya's story, and she wants to let him tell it. She visibly restrains herself from pouncing on each new tidbit, the bright, cat-like interest lighting her eyes purposefully focused as he speaks and she forces her attention onto what they're actually here to discuss. There will be other meals, other nights where she can ask about everything that interests her about him.
"It sounds relatively... idyllic," she says, though she's not happy with the word, and it shows in the crinkle between her brows and the downturn of her lipsโshe's precise with her vocabulary, and idyllic isn't the word she wants, but fixing it isn't what she needs to be focusing her attention on. It's going to bug her, though.
"Insofar as... well. The ideal of the Circle-Order system, anyway. Did leaving begin then, in the Circle?"
For his part, Vanya experiences the impulse to ask about her world, in turn, never fully at ease with even the possibility that she might think him uninterested in a more equal exchange. He is checked, however, by the assumption that she'll just gently redirect them as firmly as she sets bowls of stew in front of him again and again.
The kinder thing, instead, is to answer her genuine question. "I wouldn't have said so then. I wasn't highly enough placed or ambitious enough to run into much in the way of internal politics," in fact, he may have studiously avoided them, "and I had good relationships with both other Templars and quite a few mages. I think the first seed, actually, was Kirkwall and its aftermath. Not me being here, but hearing about the Chantry explosion. News made it up even to Cumberland."
"We thought โ I thought," a correction not to let himself off the hook, "that it was a freak occurrence. You heard about things going wrong sometimes, in Orlais or the Marches. Bad apples, I assumed, and I wasn't the only one. But things kept getting tenser." Quieter, a bit, but not hesitant: "The College of Enchanters met at Cumberland, you know, back when it still existed. The most senior mages from many corners of the South. So we heard rumors and." A pause. "Things got bad rather quickly. I was genuinely shocked when Lord Seeker Lambert broke the Templar Order away from the Chantry in 9:40. The theory was that the Order and the Seekers of Truth would put down the mage rebellion, and the Chantry would have to institute a new Divine who'd negotiate a new accord. I think it was."
She didn't only want a history lesson, after all. She wanted to know how his thoughts had changed. But it was hard to untangle them in a way he hadn't fully expected. After a short pause:
"I wasn't ready to break away from my oaths, but I think I thought even then that ... if the Order wasn't holding to the Nevarran Accord as an institution, what was the difference between sacred oaths and breakable ones? But we were plunging into war, it wasn't the moment for a crisis of faith when I was being sent to the front."
"It must have felt an awful betrayal," she says softly, and her heart gives a faint pang of sympathy for that younger version of him. He'd said he joinedโwasn't sent to the Order, or raised in it, but joined itโout of a desire to protect people, to do good. He dedicated decades of his life to it, poisoned himself, for vows that he believed in and that he thought meant something. To then realize how little those foundational tenets meant to the most senior of the Order, the people who should have been most passionate about upholding them...
How horrifying. How painful.
"I know..."
Ness pauses, chewing on her bottom lip and puzzling down at the countertop between them over her next words. It would be too easy to say something insensitive or hurtful at this point, she has to consider her words very carefully.
"I have never been in pitched melee," she says slowly, "excepting rifts or Sarrux. Which doesn't seem the same, really, as actual war. I've only fought monsters. Inhuman things with no aims but destruction, or pain. To fight another person, much less a person who could incinerate me with a thought, or turn my mind against itself...
"If one were to be a cynic about it, they might say that putting any sympathetic or disquiet Templars on the front lines of the war was calculated. There is nothing so radicalizing as unchecked, horrific violence."
His expression quirks into a muted smile, and he glances to the side for a moment. "It's very clever of you to get there straight off. It took me years. I." He looks back to her, centering himself a bit. "I wrote a letter to the Lord Seeker. Incredibly respectful, at least in intention, pointing to tenants of the order that I thought suggested a reconciliation with the Chantry was urgent and necessary. I never got a reply." A huff of air, somewhere between a sigh and a rueful laugh. "I assumed, and still assume, that he never saw it. But much later, it occurred to me that someone read it, and may have made some decisions accordingly."
There's guilt, in that theory. Though as it continues, it may become clearer that it's not disagreeing with the party line on its own merits that he regrets.
"Whether it was that or bad luck, my unit ended up in a place the fighting was especially hard, near the border of Nevarra and the Free Marches." Quieter. "We were caught in an ambush. If anyone else I was with survived, I've never heard anything of them since, but ... I suspect not. I was badly injured and probably wouldn't have made it myself without help."
Her expressionโdoes something complicated, as he explains, passing through multiple contradictory emotions at once: there's pride, first, pleased with her cleverness and his noting it, and then shame at taking pride in it when she shouldn't; the quick dawning of understanding, I know where this story is going and it's nowhere good, followed by distress as Vanya confirms her narrative instincts; then shame, and shame again, thinking of everything she said to him in the Crossroads, the blithe way she'd spoken about the organization that had betrayed him so egregiously, and how all of that self-recrimination must be showing on her face, and he's too kind to just let her stew in itโ
Ness closes her eyes, and waits a beat before opening them again. Her face is under control, now, the only emotion legible in her expression when she meets Vanya's again being her sympathy. She moves, then hesitates, then moves again, coming around the counter to stand nearer to him.
Touch is not something she's used to, either receiving or giving, but it seems the right thing to do to lay her hand over his where it sits on the tableโlight, easily retreated from if he wants to, but a solid weight of comfort, should he want that. She doesn't say anything, because it doesn't seem like there's much to say, she just waits for him to be ready to continue his story.
Her shame finds no mirroring reproach in his expression when she looks back at him. He doesn't pull his hand away, accepting the small gesture of comfort with grace (or perhaps gratitude, muted as it is).
He takes the moment she needed to gather herself to decide how to frame the next part. It feels, in some ways, a digression; but if he's honest with himself, an explanation of how he came to leave the Templar Order would be incomplete without the truth of it. And so:
"The help I received was from an apostate mage. He'd never been in a Circle; his family hid him at home until that became too chancy, he told me, and then his sister helped him to repair an abandoned cabin far out in the woods. She brought him food, and he hunted, and he built a bit of a relationship with the people in the village nearby. They didn't ask him why he was living out alone in the woods and he would help them in small ways with things no one would admit was magic." His tone is quiet, not without warmth even now, though there's an ache to it too that someone as quick as Ness is unlikely to miss. "He could have left me to bleed out. It would have been safer for him if he had, unarguably. But he took me into his cabin and let me recover there instead."
It's easy to reach several conclusions very quickly: one, that Vanya spent a lot of time with this mage. Two, that in their time together, Vanya became very fond of this mage. Three, that there is something which keeps them apart now, and it cannot be the Order. It's easy, too, to conclude that this part of the story is even less her business than the rest of it is, for all that Vanya is willingly telling it to her, and to needle him for any more details would be horrendous.
"I'm glad he did," she says, and gently squeezes Vanya's hand, instead of saying any of the other things she can think of. She's too wary of that aching note in Vanya's voice to judge the man's character before the end of the story. It'd be just her luck to call him a good person and then Vanya ends up telling her actually he kicked puppies in his spare time and stole money meant for orphans from the village Chantry. She learned her lesson about running her mouth on topics she knows less than nothing about good and well now, she's not going to do it again.
He returns the pressure, lightly. "It's a kind part of a story without many of those. I'm still grateful for it, even if ... things became complicated." He can hardly think that will surprise her, under the circumstances.
"The mage, his name was Antosha, he wasn't especially ... He had a gruff manner, but he took care of me. Insisted on not letting me up and about until he judged I was strong enough, even if my sense of duty would have had me walking back to the war as soon as I could stand. I got to know him, and it seemed a poor way to repay him." Going back to the fight against mage freedom, yes.
Vanya breathes slowly in and out before he continues. "I don't know what would have happened without it, but the Conclave and Corypheus happened toward the end of my convalescence. I decided going to the Inquisition would feel like I wasn't abandoning my post, but it also was a clearer good cause than the war had been. Antosha decided to come with me."
The tone Ness identified about Antosha hasn't changed, a strange mixture of fondness and regret and a somewhat halfhearted attempt to stay relatively neutral. Wherever this is going with him specifically is clearly complicated, and it's not so much that Vanya is trying to hide it as that he's unpracticed with talking about it. There hasn't been much call to, before now.
The tone isโcomplicated, undoubtedly, nuanced in ways Ness can't immediately read. She lifts her hand from Vanya's as he speaks, hesitating for a fraction of a second, almost imperceptible as she decides how she wants to treat this....
She turns back to the cooking fire, and lifts the lid of the pot. Her back isn't to Vanya, quite, but her eyes aren't boring into him anymore, affording him a measure of privacy in the middle of this very close room. It may be easier for him, after all, to choose his words if he's not thinking about what she's thinking as she looks at him.
"'Abandoning your post'โyou can't have still felt that you were doing wrong, after everything the Orderโ"
Ness cuts herself off, abrupt, visibly blinking herself out of that line of discussion. Much as she'd like to believe her sympathy is clear, it feels at the least unhelpful to pursue that particular topic. You can't convince anyone they were manipulated, abandoned, uncared for, after allโand this whole discussion is about the conclusions he came to as a result of his experiences. She stirs the stew in the pot, tries a mouthfulโflavorful, toothsome, ready to eat whenever the story comes to a close. Next she crouches down next to the hearth and lifts the cast-iron pan set inconspicuously near the fire; the cakes hidden beneath are still warm and golden, not burnt, thank the Binder.
"Was Antosha following you for your sake, or did he agree with the Inquisition's goals?"
The question takes him by surprise, though he supposes it shouldn't. It's a natural enough thing to ask, from her point of view. It gives him pause, though.
"I suppose you'd have to ask him to be sure. But if I had to guess ... He convinced himself he agreed with the Inquisition after an impulsive initial decision to come with me. Antosha was clever, but he often. He acted first, and then if someone asked him, he might work out why after. The why didn't always interest him, especially, so I think he did that for other people when he did it." Vanya sighs, a short exhale. "He had good instincts, mostly. Or I thought he did. But he was what they euphemistically call 'a man of action.'" Opposites, perhaps, attracting.
It's strange that it's easier to talk about Antosha than to circle back to her half comment about his feelings. Still, he keeps going. It would be convenient of he had something to do with his hands, but the stew is too far along for her to need him to chop anything.
"Regardless, we made it to Skyhold. And he really did ... We were both in Forces, and he was committed. Didn't do things by halves. A bit frustrating to his superiors considering his allergy to taking orders, I think, but he was handy in combat. Since he'd never had training, he didn't fight like the Venatori or the red Templars we were fighting expected him to."
Yes, that picture Vanya is painting has come into focus now, full clarity afforded by the melancholy colors shaping the negative space of Antosha: his lack of presence. Shading and detail-work remain, but the truth of it reads as easy as a very tragic book. Ness glances back at Vanya, notes the nervous energy of his hands.
She'd intended to leave serving the food until they were finished with his story, use it as a comforting balm after what was sure to be a complicated topic, but it takes only a moment's consideration before Ness reaches for a plate. The stew is not for him, not unless he wants someโfor him she plates the two hand pies, fish and lemon and star anise, warming under the cast-iron next to the fire, and pulls the folded napkin protecting the candied sage leaves out of her apron pocket. She sets the plate in front of Vanya, the napkin of sage nearby, and offers a small smileโshe tried her best, followed Gela's recipe as closely as she could. Hopefully it takes the sting out of her next question.
"So, at what point did he defect?"
This is not the tone used to speak of a dead lover, nor of a relationship that failed for mundane, everyday incompatibility.
Negative space, things unsaid... they all form the shape of betrayal, not loss.
He's certainly known Ness long enough now that he isn't surprised at her cleverness. A nod, only, to signal that she'd read the details correctly. (That and a smile at the hand pies, gratefully accepted; the star anise is a distinct enough smell in contrast to local flavors to be instantly nostalgic.)
"In 9:44. I don't know if you've heard or run across mentions but ... that summer the Inquisition's mages were targeted by a rogue group of Seekers of Truth who captured a cache of phylacteries left abandoned during the Mage-Templar war. The Inquisition hunted them down and took possession of the phylacteries. Inquisition-affiliated mages asked for permission to have control of their own phylacteries, if they could be identified; leadership initially refused. Many of the mages went on strike to force negotiations." A brief flicker of a rueful smile. "I know this is a bit of a long walk to answer your question. But I think it's ..."
He exhales and takes a moment to take a small bite of one of the hand pies. He nods again, though it's hard to tell whether it's because the food is good or just that he's landed on what he wants to say.
"Antosha left me a letter, when he went, but I told you what 'why' wasn't a thing he thought of much. He didn't tell me why. But given the timing, I think he saw it as an inevitability that, once Corypheus was defeated, the Inquisition and the Chantry would try to force mages back into Circles. Even if the mages got some of what they wanted, the negotiations were too hard-won. And too many people knew him to make retreating back to the woods plausible. I don't believe, even now, the Venatori held any ideological pull for him. I think he narrowed his view to people who wanted to imprison him and people who would let him be free. That doesn't excuseโ"
When he breaks off, it's not out of visible emotion, but it isn't hard to guess that some strong feeling has made going on temporarily complicated for him.
"He was important to you," she says softly, once it becomes clear he isn't going to continue. "He is important to you. You don't have to apologize for that, Vanya."
The name comes naturally, the intimacy of it feeling appropriate in a way it rarely ever does. She's out of her depth, she knows. Treading water in the fathomless waters of a topic deeper than her shallow experiences of love and fear can prepare her for. It's intimidating, but only from how intensely she wants to be kind, to be thoughtful. She respects Vanya so much, to hurt him through carelessnessโ
"We can table this for another time," Ness offers gently. "It's a lot to lay out all at once, I understand that."
Though perhaps, now that the wound has been re-opened, it's better to get it all out at once, to expel the blood and pain and venom of it before it has time to fester. Speaking on these things can be so painful, even when it's necessaryโbut perhaps he doesn't need to speak. She remembers, sat in Stephen's office, incapable of putting her death into words, showing him instead. Two mute children in a cellar stinking of rot and decay, showing her what she needed to see.
"Or if it's difficult to continue," her words come slow, cautious, "I couldโ"
She raises her hand, wiggles her fingers at his temple.
"You could show me instead. Nothing more than you want me to see. Only if you want, if it would be easier."
Edited (repeating icons is verboten) 2025-06-15 21:06 (UTC)
"No," he says, but gently. It's impossible to miss the care she's taking, her desire to keep this simple for him. Even if he's not willing to open his memories to her, it's clear he takes the offer for the kind one that it is.
"No, as long as I haven't bored you," deadpan but it is a bit of a joke, "I don't mind carrying on the long way. It's only ...The Order is a betrayal without a face, you know? The things that were wrong about it were an avalanche of decisions, very few of them about me as an individual. Antosha leaving was... I'll never know if he assumed that nothing I could say would change his mind, or if he was afraid I would talk him out of his decision and he didn't wish me to." Vanya's not sure whether that distinction would ever matter to anyone else, but it would make a difference to him. Still.
"Regardless. He left, and it was one more thing on a large pile in my misgivings about the Order. But I didn't resign until the Divine Election, about half a year later. When the call went out for an Exalted March, it was clear I couldn't go on wearing the Templar insignia but distancing myself from any of their work other than the Inquisition."
For perhaps the first time in her life, it doesn't occur to Ness to be self-conscious. He demurs her offer, she accepts with a graceful smile and a nod of understanding, and that's that. No inner histrionics, no fear. Simple as can be.
She ladles herself a bowl of stew, picks up a spoon. Comes nearer to Vanya to lean against an adjacent counter, steaming bowl clutched to her chest to ward off the ache of his story.
"No one thing," confirming, as she thought, "but a lot of smaller things."
Thoughtful and somber and not all that hungry, now it's come down to it, she pushes her spoon listlessly around her bowl... and chuckles.
"I seem to have miscalculated, haven't I?" It's kind of darkly comical just how badly, really. Her lips twist in a guilty mockery of a smile. "I'd intended it to be a, you know," she gestures to the hand pies in front of him, "a comfort, after a difficut conversation."
Somehow, though she really should have anticipated this, she'd underestimated quite how upsetting the whole topic was going to end up. It's not the end of the world, these things happen, sometimes people mistime kind gestures but that doesn't make them any less kindโ
"I understand if the subject has put you off food. I think they should keep til morning, at least? I'm not sure. I can try again another day, if..."
Ness trails off, realizing she's rambling. Her eyes meet his, briefly, before dropping back to her bowl.
"Gela and Cedric helped me. I wanted to do something as kind for you as all you've done for me."
"You've been very kind in a variety of ways, but this one is appreciated," he says, a bit warmer. "You've not upset me or gotten anything from me I was reluctant to give. I promise you. Though I fear it wasn't a very satisfying answer to your question about my leaving the Order. But it isn't..." He trails for a moment, thinking of how he wants to frame his thought.
"It is not as if these are things I never think of, and you brought them to the surface. It's true that it is rare I speak of them, but you've not put me off of food or unsettled me by asking. You are simply in a unique position. I've not had many people show genuine interest who weren't privy to parts of the story themselves. It's unusual to have to frame the entire thing as I have, but just because it was long and complicated doesn't mean that you've done anything amiss. Well," more gently, "unless I've upset you, which wasn't my intention."
Her instinct is to trip over herself and him with reassurances, but Ness presses her lips together against the impulse and takes a moment to actually breathe. To think about how she feels.
"Not upset," she says after a moment, "It's, I wish none of it had happened to you. You're a good person who I admire, and I want the world to have been kinder to you. I don't like to imagine you in pain like that."
It occurs to her, suddenly, that maybe she's revealed too much. At least she's very likely overstepping. Or is that a normal thing to say, and she's the one making it weird? She meets Vanya's eyes for a brief moment, trying to quickly discern how he's taken that, before her embarrassment gets the better of her and she has to look away again, back to her bowl. Her cheeks are flushed, she can feel it, but maybe he can't tell in the firelight.
"Not upset, though. I'm grateful you'd tell me, it's not so unsatisfying an answer as you think."
When she glances up, she finds him as steady and calm as usual. If the story has shaken him, it's nowhere visible in his expression, not quite smiling but also quietly warm, like a banked fire.
As she glances back down, he says, "I'm glad, then. And if you ever wish to speak of it again or if questions occur to you later, you needn't think of this as the only time we will ever discuss the topic. I can think of pleasanter ones, perhaps, but I also think ... if I were in your place, in a world strange to me, I would also wish to know more of it. Of the lives of people around me. You've only ever asked with kindness."
But at the same time, maybe they've both gone through enough of his past for one night, as the unspoken coda to his offer suggests.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Well. Usually nothing of consequence.
"Pride's made people do worse, I suppose," she says, dusting crumbs off her hands, "and far be it from me to pretend I've never done something stupid to save face."
She lets the conversation lull for a moment, enjoying the quiet and the company. Her hummingbird heart doesn't beat quite so fast in these after-hours conversations, the rushing ocean of her anxiety quieted to a wash of whispers. It's a little bit the privacy, a little bit the soft light of the cooking fire, a little bit the smells and sounds of good food cookingโbut it's a little bit Vanya, too, a little bit his soft smiles and quiet jokes. If Vanya is calm, she can be too.
"Seems like it'd be hard to know where to begin," she says, finally, glancing up to meet his eyes. "With a story like that. I imagine... a lot of little things added up, until there's the one thing that isn't even the worst, it's just the last thing you could stand."
no subject
"...That's so," he agrees, after a brief pause. "It wasn't even. Well, it was sort of three leavings, I suppose, depending on how one looks at it. Reporting to the Inquisition instead of to the Order directly after I'd been injured. Then the formal resignation. And later, quitting lyrium. But those were all endings, of sorts, and I suppose you're asking about beginnings. In a way." He doesn't quite make it a question, but tilts it up just enough for her to confirm or deny.
It doesn't bother him to talk about, but so few people have asked without their own heavy context around it. He wants to be sure she is asking, before he wades into deeper waters. On the other hand, they're both comfortable and it will be some time before the food is ready. It's a quiet, private place, which would be a characteristically thoughtful way for her to bring up a subject they'd touched on some time before.
no subject
The apology comes with a twist to the smile, a self-aware little huff that says sorry, I can't help itโshe knows he won't think she's done anything wrong, and she is here asking now, but she's also herself. She can't help feeling bad for making him wait. That he'd hate for her to hold herself over the coals for it keeps her from falling all over them both about it, though, she just gives her apology and waits for his assurance that it's unnecessary.
no subject
Not that he thinks she'll react badly, but because it would be neater, if he could point to a thing that changed his mind and then the following point where he acted on that change of conviction.
"Remind me, have I told you much about my time in the Order? Beyond soup mishaps. I know that Nevarra is a bit different than some of the other countries in the South, as far as they handled Circles and Templars before the war."
no subject
"No, not much. Little stories here and there, but nothing about the day-to-day, or what you were doing before the War."
Which makes her think, and her brow furrows as she realizes:
"Truthfully, I don't know much about the Order as an organization beyond the general. Is every Templar stationed at a Circle, or are there other assignments? Were you in a Circle?"
no subject
A brief flicker of a smile as he thinks of something particular.
"I was stationed at the Cumberland Circle, but I was lent out, for lack of a better term. It's the reason I'd fought an Envy demon before the attack a few years ago; that was one of the things I was pulled for, once. I saw more of the Necropolis than some because I was known to be reliable and good at my job. Senior enough to have some latitude, not so senior my duties kept me tied more closely to Cumberland."
no subject
but this is Vanya's story, and she wants to let him tell it. She visibly restrains herself from pouncing on each new tidbit, the bright, cat-like interest lighting her eyes purposefully focused as he speaks and she forces her attention onto what they're actually here to discuss. There will be other meals, other nights where she can ask about everything that interests her about him.
"It sounds relatively... idyllic," she says, though she's not happy with the word, and it shows in the crinkle between her brows and the downturn of her lipsโshe's precise with her vocabulary, and idyllic isn't the word she wants, but fixing it isn't what she needs to be focusing her attention on. It's going to bug her, though.
"Insofar as... well. The ideal of the Circle-Order system, anyway. Did leaving begin then, in the Circle?"
no subject
The kinder thing, instead, is to answer her genuine question. "I wouldn't have said so then. I wasn't highly enough placed or ambitious enough to run into much in the way of internal politics," in fact, he may have studiously avoided them, "and I had good relationships with both other Templars and quite a few mages. I think the first seed, actually, was Kirkwall and its aftermath. Not me being here, but hearing about the Chantry explosion. News made it up even to Cumberland."
"We thought โ I thought," a correction not to let himself off the hook, "that it was a freak occurrence. You heard about things going wrong sometimes, in Orlais or the Marches. Bad apples, I assumed, and I wasn't the only one. But things kept getting tenser." Quieter, a bit, but not hesitant: "The College of Enchanters met at Cumberland, you know, back when it still existed. The most senior mages from many corners of the South. So we heard rumors and." A pause. "Things got bad rather quickly. I was genuinely shocked when Lord Seeker Lambert broke the Templar Order away from the Chantry in 9:40. The theory was that the Order and the Seekers of Truth would put down the mage rebellion, and the Chantry would have to institute a new Divine who'd negotiate a new accord. I think it was."
She didn't only want a history lesson, after all. She wanted to know how his thoughts had changed. But it was hard to untangle them in a way he hadn't fully expected. After a short pause:
"I wasn't ready to break away from my oaths, but I think I thought even then that ... if the Order wasn't holding to the Nevarran Accord as an institution, what was the difference between sacred oaths and breakable ones? But we were plunging into war, it wasn't the moment for a crisis of faith when I was being sent to the front."
no subject
How horrifying. How painful.
"I know..."
Ness pauses, chewing on her bottom lip and puzzling down at the countertop between them over her next words. It would be too easy to say something insensitive or hurtful at this point, she has to consider her words very carefully.
"I have never been in pitched melee," she says slowly, "excepting rifts or Sarrux. Which doesn't seem the same, really, as actual war. I've only fought monsters. Inhuman things with no aims but destruction, or pain. To fight another person, much less a person who could incinerate me with a thought, or turn my mind against itself...
"If one were to be a cynic about it, they might say that putting any sympathetic or disquiet Templars on the front lines of the war was calculated. There is nothing so radicalizing as unchecked, horrific violence."
no subject
There's guilt, in that theory. Though as it continues, it may become clearer that it's not disagreeing with the party line on its own merits that he regrets.
"Whether it was that or bad luck, my unit ended up in a place the fighting was especially hard, near the border of Nevarra and the Free Marches." Quieter. "We were caught in an ambush. If anyone else I was with survived, I've never heard anything of them since, but ... I suspect not. I was badly injured and probably wouldn't have made it myself without help."
no subject
Ness closes her eyes, and waits a beat before opening them again. Her face is under control, now, the only emotion legible in her expression when she meets Vanya's again being her sympathy. She moves, then hesitates, then moves again, coming around the counter to stand nearer to him.
Touch is not something she's used to, either receiving or giving, but it seems the right thing to do to lay her hand over his where it sits on the tableโlight, easily retreated from if he wants to, but a solid weight of comfort, should he want that. She doesn't say anything, because it doesn't seem like there's much to say, she just waits for him to be ready to continue his story.
no subject
He takes the moment she needed to gather herself to decide how to frame the next part. It feels, in some ways, a digression; but if he's honest with himself, an explanation of how he came to leave the Templar Order would be incomplete without the truth of it. And so:
"The help I received was from an apostate mage. He'd never been in a Circle; his family hid him at home until that became too chancy, he told me, and then his sister helped him to repair an abandoned cabin far out in the woods. She brought him food, and he hunted, and he built a bit of a relationship with the people in the village nearby. They didn't ask him why he was living out alone in the woods and he would help them in small ways with things no one would admit was magic." His tone is quiet, not without warmth even now, though there's an ache to it too that someone as quick as Ness is unlikely to miss. "He could have left me to bleed out. It would have been safer for him if he had, unarguably. But he took me into his cabin and let me recover there instead."
no subject
"I'm glad he did," she says, and gently squeezes Vanya's hand, instead of saying any of the other things she can think of. She's too wary of that aching note in Vanya's voice to judge the man's character before the end of the story. It'd be just her luck to call him a good person and then Vanya ends up telling her actually he kicked puppies in his spare time and stole money meant for orphans from the village Chantry. She learned her lesson about running her mouth on topics she knows less than nothing about good and well now, she's not going to do it again.
no subject
"The mage, his name was Antosha, he wasn't especially ... He had a gruff manner, but he took care of me. Insisted on not letting me up and about until he judged I was strong enough, even if my sense of duty would have had me walking back to the war as soon as I could stand. I got to know him, and it seemed a poor way to repay him." Going back to the fight against mage freedom, yes.
Vanya breathes slowly in and out before he continues. "I don't know what would have happened without it, but the Conclave and Corypheus happened toward the end of my convalescence. I decided going to the Inquisition would feel like I wasn't abandoning my post, but it also was a clearer good cause than the war had been. Antosha decided to come with me."
The tone Ness identified about Antosha hasn't changed, a strange mixture of fondness and regret and a somewhat halfhearted attempt to stay relatively neutral. Wherever this is going with him specifically is clearly complicated, and it's not so much that Vanya is trying to hide it as that he's unpracticed with talking about it. There hasn't been much call to, before now.
no subject
She turns back to the cooking fire, and lifts the lid of the pot. Her back isn't to Vanya, quite, but her eyes aren't boring into him anymore, affording him a measure of privacy in the middle of this very close room. It may be easier for him, after all, to choose his words if he's not thinking about what she's thinking as she looks at him.
"'Abandoning your post'โyou can't have still felt that you were doing wrong, after everything the Orderโ"
Ness cuts herself off, abrupt, visibly blinking herself out of that line of discussion. Much as she'd like to believe her sympathy is clear, it feels at the least unhelpful to pursue that particular topic. You can't convince anyone they were manipulated, abandoned, uncared for, after allโand this whole discussion is about the conclusions he came to as a result of his experiences. She stirs the stew in the pot, tries a mouthfulโflavorful, toothsome, ready to eat whenever the story comes to a close. Next she crouches down next to the hearth and lifts the cast-iron pan set inconspicuously near the fire; the cakes hidden beneath are still warm and golden, not burnt, thank the Binder.
"Was Antosha following you for your sake, or did he agree with the Inquisition's goals?"
no subject
"I suppose you'd have to ask him to be sure. But if I had to guess ... He convinced himself he agreed with the Inquisition after an impulsive initial decision to come with me. Antosha was clever, but he often. He acted first, and then if someone asked him, he might work out why after. The why didn't always interest him, especially, so I think he did that for other people when he did it." Vanya sighs, a short exhale. "He had good instincts, mostly. Or I thought he did. But he was what they euphemistically call 'a man of action.'" Opposites, perhaps, attracting.
It's strange that it's easier to talk about Antosha than to circle back to her half comment about his feelings. Still, he keeps going. It would be convenient of he had something to do with his hands, but the stew is too far along for her to need him to chop anything.
"Regardless, we made it to Skyhold. And he really did ... We were both in Forces, and he was committed. Didn't do things by halves. A bit frustrating to his superiors considering his allergy to taking orders, I think, but he was handy in combat. Since he'd never had training, he didn't fight like the Venatori or the red Templars we were fighting expected him to."
no subject
She'd intended to leave serving the food until they were finished with his story, use it as a comforting balm after what was sure to be a complicated topic, but it takes only a moment's consideration before Ness reaches for a plate. The stew is not for him, not unless he wants someโfor him she plates the two hand pies, fish and lemon and star anise, warming under the cast-iron next to the fire, and pulls the folded napkin protecting the candied sage leaves out of her apron pocket. She sets the plate in front of Vanya, the napkin of sage nearby, and offers a small smileโshe tried her best, followed Gela's recipe as closely as she could. Hopefully it takes the sting out of her next question.
"So, at what point did he defect?"
This is not the tone used to speak of a dead lover, nor of a relationship that failed for mundane, everyday incompatibility.
Negative space, things unsaid... they all form the shape of betrayal, not loss.
no subject
"In 9:44. I don't know if you've heard or run across mentions but ... that summer the Inquisition's mages were targeted by a rogue group of Seekers of Truth who captured a cache of phylacteries left abandoned during the Mage-Templar war. The Inquisition hunted them down and took possession of the phylacteries. Inquisition-affiliated mages asked for permission to have control of their own phylacteries, if they could be identified; leadership initially refused. Many of the mages went on strike to force negotiations." A brief flicker of a rueful smile. "I know this is a bit of a long walk to answer your question. But I think it's ..."
He exhales and takes a moment to take a small bite of one of the hand pies. He nods again, though it's hard to tell whether it's because the food is good or just that he's landed on what he wants to say.
"Antosha left me a letter, when he went, but I told you what 'why' wasn't a thing he thought of much. He didn't tell me why. But given the timing, I think he saw it as an inevitability that, once Corypheus was defeated, the Inquisition and the Chantry would try to force mages back into Circles. Even if the mages got some of what they wanted, the negotiations were too hard-won. And too many people knew him to make retreating back to the woods plausible. I don't believe, even now, the Venatori held any ideological pull for him. I think he narrowed his view to people who wanted to imprison him and people who would let him be free. That doesn't excuseโ"
When he breaks off, it's not out of visible emotion, but it isn't hard to guess that some strong feeling has made going on temporarily complicated for him.
no subject
The name comes naturally, the intimacy of it feeling appropriate in a way it rarely ever does. She's out of her depth, she knows. Treading water in the fathomless waters of a topic deeper than her shallow experiences of love and fear can prepare her for. It's intimidating, but only from how intensely she wants to be kind, to be thoughtful. She respects Vanya so much, to hurt him through carelessnessโ
"We can table this for another time," Ness offers gently. "It's a lot to lay out all at once, I understand that."
Though perhaps, now that the wound has been re-opened, it's better to get it all out at once, to expel the blood and pain and venom of it before it has time to fester. Speaking on these things can be so painful, even when it's necessaryโbut perhaps he doesn't need to speak. She remembers, sat in Stephen's office, incapable of putting her death into words, showing him instead. Two mute children in a cellar stinking of rot and decay, showing her what she needed to see.
"Or if it's difficult to continue," her words come slow, cautious, "I couldโ"
She raises her hand, wiggles her fingers at his temple.
"You could show me instead. Nothing more than you want me to see. Only if you want, if it would be easier."
no subject
"No, as long as I haven't bored you," deadpan but it is a bit of a joke, "I don't mind carrying on the long way. It's only ...The Order is a betrayal without a face, you know? The things that were wrong about it were an avalanche of decisions, very few of them about me as an individual. Antosha leaving was... I'll never know if he assumed that nothing I could say would change his mind, or if he was afraid I would talk him out of his decision and he didn't wish me to." Vanya's not sure whether that distinction would ever matter to anyone else, but it would make a difference to him. Still.
"Regardless. He left, and it was one more thing on a large pile in my misgivings about the Order. But I didn't resign until the Divine Election, about half a year later. When the call went out for an Exalted March, it was clear I couldn't go on wearing the Templar insignia but distancing myself from any of their work other than the Inquisition."
no subject
She ladles herself a bowl of stew, picks up a spoon. Comes nearer to Vanya to lean against an adjacent counter, steaming bowl clutched to her chest to ward off the ache of his story.
"No one thing," confirming, as she thought, "but a lot of smaller things."
Thoughtful and somber and not all that hungry, now it's come down to it, she pushes her spoon listlessly around her bowl... and chuckles.
"I seem to have miscalculated, haven't I?" It's kind of darkly comical just how badly, really. Her lips twist in a guilty mockery of a smile. "I'd intended it to be a, you know," she gestures to the hand pies in front of him, "a comfort, after a difficut conversation."
Somehow, though she really should have anticipated this, she'd underestimated quite how upsetting the whole topic was going to end up. It's not the end of the world, these things happen, sometimes people mistime kind gestures but that doesn't make them any less kindโ
"I understand if the subject has put you off food. I think they should keep til morning, at least? I'm not sure. I can try again another day, if..."
Ness trails off, realizing she's rambling. Her eyes meet his, briefly, before dropping back to her bowl.
"Gela and Cedric helped me. I wanted to do something as kind for you as all you've done for me."
no subject
"It is not as if these are things I never think of, and you brought them to the surface. It's true that it is rare I speak of them, but you've not put me off of food or unsettled me by asking. You are simply in a unique position. I've not had many people show genuine interest who weren't privy to parts of the story themselves. It's unusual to have to frame the entire thing as I have, but just because it was long and complicated doesn't mean that you've done anything amiss. Well," more gently, "unless I've upset you, which wasn't my intention."
no subject
"Not upset," she says after a moment, "It's, I wish none of it had happened to you. You're a good person who I admire, and I want the world to have been kinder to you. I don't like to imagine you in pain like that."
It occurs to her, suddenly, that maybe she's revealed too much. At least she's very likely overstepping. Or is that a normal thing to say, and she's the one making it weird? She meets Vanya's eyes for a brief moment, trying to quickly discern how he's taken that, before her embarrassment gets the better of her and she has to look away again, back to her bowl. Her cheeks are flushed, she can feel it, but maybe he can't tell in the firelight.
"Not upset, though. I'm grateful you'd tell me, it's not so unsatisfying an answer as you think."
๐?
As she glances back down, he says, "I'm glad, then. And if you ever wish to speak of it again or if questions occur to you later, you needn't think of this as the only time we will ever discuss the topic. I can think of pleasanter ones, perhaps, but I also think ... if I were in your place, in a world strange to me, I would also wish to know more of it. Of the lives of people around me. You've only ever asked with kindness."
But at the same time, maybe they've both gone through enough of his past for one night, as the unspoken coda to his offer suggests.