Anders looked out the window at the city below and tried to ignore what was happening behind him. He watched a small group of birds flutter by to perch on the edge of a building. He felt an unnerving longing to be one of those birds, to be able to spread his wings and fly away from this tower. He closed his eyes and could almost feel the wind beneath his body, the warmth of the sun on his skin, the smell of fresh air and freedom.
The hand on the back of his neck tightened, and all at once, he was back in his own skin and uncomfortably aware of himself. A choked groan reached his ears, along with the sticky slap of sweaty skin against skin. The air around him was hot and thick, and the smell of sex was almost suffocating. The fingers on his hip tightened painfully, and Anders felt the body behind him begin to tremble.
He'd long ago become familiar with the signs, and he knew his lover was nearing his end. Another few moments, and the man behind him shuddered, collapsing against Anders with his release.
And then the man was pulling out of him, leaving an emptiness and an ache and a mess. Anders rolled over onto his back while the man dressed himself, and he thought about flying away again. The man said something about seeing him at dinner later, and Anders nodded and smiled and made some coy reply he expected the man would like.
He was right, and his lover laughed before wishing him farewell until the evening, and when the door to Anders' suite closed tight behind him, Anders let out a heavy sigh of relief.
He used to cherish the man's morning visits, and his occasional night visits. He used to believe he had feelings for the man, and that those feelings were reciprocated. He used to believe that he was fortunate, blessed even, to have found himself in his situation, paramour to the Prince of Starkhaven himself. But now the thought only left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He was a prisoner. At first he accepted the excuses - that it was for his own protection - and he believed he had little to complain about. He lived in luxury, grew fat on rich foods and slept on a plush bed bigger than the clinic he'd once called home, with more pillows than he could count. He was given expensive gifts of fine clothing and jewelry, and anything else his heart desired. Except his freedom.
A gilded cage was a cage just the same, and a jeweled collar still choked the air from shackled lungs.
He cursed himself under his breath, and sat up in his bed. Those kinds of thoughts were dangerous, and he'd been having too many of them lately.
Anders stayed in bed for a while longer, staring at the high ceiling of his bedroom, and wondering what it would feel like to float through it. He didn't know how much longer he could stand being stuck in this tower without going mad. Sometimes he felt like he'd already gone mad. Sometimes he wondered if he'd been mad before he'd been locked up.
Finally, Anders could take it no more, and picked himself off the bed. He was sticky with sweat, and wet with royal seed. He needed a bath. He pulled on a robe and called for someone to draw him one. In another moment, he heard servants enter the bathing chamber connected to his bedroom and begin preparing a bath for him. Anders paced until a servant told him it was ready.
He thanked her politely, and when the door was closed behind her, he dropped his robe and sank happily into the hot water. The warmth soaked through his skin all the way to his bones, and eased sore muscles. Anders rolled his shoulders and settled deeper into the water. He felt almost at peace.
And then suddenly the water was cold and he had a painful crick in his neck, and his fingers were all wrinkly. Anders sat up and rubbed his neck, letting a bit of healing magic sink into the ache and relieve it. He must have dozed off, he thought idly. Wouldn't be the first time.
He resisted the urge to reheat the water himself, and stood to reach for a nearby towel. He stepped out of the bathtub and dried himself lazily, wondering how long he'd slept. He padded into his bedroom to dress, and glanced out his window to find the sun was visible. That meant it was after noon, at least.
Anders wandered over to his desk and sat himself down. He cracked his knuckles, dipped his favorite quill in ink, and set to writing. This had become his favorite way to pass the time, since his attempts to practice his magic had almost been discovered when he'd first come to Starkhaven, and he wasn't about to risk angering Sebastian enough to get sent back to the templars.
At first, he'd written silly bits of verse to amuse himself, but then the verses became too serious, too personal, and he had to burn a few papers that said things he didn't want anyone else knowing he felt, and he'd stopped writing for a while. But the freedom he felt from expressing himself on paper wouldn't leave his mind, and he'd come up with the brilliant idea of developing his own language.
He'd based it on ancient Arcanum, which he'd studied while he was in the Circle, but it was purely his own, and he was confident no others could decipher it. He'd begun to pour his thoughts and soul out onto paper, with no worries about someone coming into his room and reading something that would get him into trouble.
He now took comfort in the sound of pen scratching against paper, the smell of wet ink, and the elation he felt at truly expressing himself, even if it was merely to the pages on his desk. He sat hunched over his desk and scrawled for hours, immersed in the words he crafted for himself.
A knock on his bedroom door disturbed his work, and he glanced up to see the sun was painting the sky red and purple as it neared the horizon. Another knock drew him from his desk, and he lazily strolled to his door and pulled it open.
"Master Anders," a man said the moment he opened the door. It was one of Sebastian's messengers, and for the life of him, Anders couldn't recall this one's name. "The Prince requests that you dine with him this evening. Someone will be up to collect you shortly."
And then the man was gone, leaving Anders blinking in surprise. It wasn't often that Sebastian requested his presence elsewhere in the keep. Anders was usually confined to the upper floors of this tower, which included a dining room, where the prince joined him for meals if it suited his fancy. If he was requesting Anders downstairs, it must be a special occasion.
Anders rifled through his large collection of dress robes and pulled out an especially nice one. It was a lovely shade of dark red laced with gold that he thought brought out the warm tones of his eyes quite well, and he knew the prince agreed. He combed his hair back neater than usual, then sat and twiddled his thumbs until a guard came calling.
He followed his escort downstairs, and mused to himself that it was rather sad how excited he was to dine in a different part of the keep for a change. He trailed the guard into the dining hall to find Sebastian already seated at the head of the table with food before him. A place was set beside the prince, but the rest of the table was empty.
"Anders," Sebastian greeted happily, and rose from the table to spread his arms in welcome. Anders smiled and strode towards his lover. "I see you're wearing my favorite robes," Sebastian noted as Anders neared him.
"Just for you, love," Anders replied with a grin. Sebastian beamed, a huge smile breaking across his handsome face, and Anders was struck by a painful longing to feel the things the prince once incited in him, to love this man the way he used to.
"Please, sit," Sebastian told him, blissfully unaware of Anders' thoughts.
Anders bowed his head respectfully, and took his seat beside the prince. "You don't ask me to dine down here often. May I ask the occasion?" Anders inquired as politely as he could.
"No occasion. I have a frightful amount of work to do, and did not wish to make the trip to your tower, but I desired your company," Sebastian explained with a smile.
Not exactly the explanation Anders had been expecting, but he wasn't about to complain. Any excuse to leave that blighted tower was fine by him. As Sebastian began regaling him with tales about all the dreadful paperwork and business he'd had to deal with recently, Anders reached for the plates of food in front of him, but his eyes caught something that gave him pause.
The most beautiful man he'd ever seen was standing across the room, and Anders had to fight to find his breath again. The man's shaggy white hair hid half of his face, but Anders could tell the man was elven. The tips of his ears protruded from his hair, and his body was long and slim like most of his kind. His skin was tanned and toned, and painted with beautiful lines that seemed to sing to Anders from across the room.
"Ah, you've noticed Fenris." Sebastian's voice drew Anders from his thoughts, and he turned to face his prince, a little ashamed to have been caught staring at another man. "Impressive, isn't he?" Sebastian asked, and Anders was sure he blushed.
"Um, I suppose," he began, but Sebastian cut him off.
"He's the newest member of the royal guard. From Tevinter," he remarked casually. "He's quite skilled with a blade, and those markings of his give him the most remarkable skills in battle. It's an interesting story how he came to be employed here, actually."
"Oh?" Anders inquired, but he couldn't bring himself to listen to the answer. His attention was fully focused on the elf across the hall, who was casually leaning against a wall, and staring off into the corner as though something dreadfully fascinating were occurring there.
As if the elf could feel Anders' eyes on him, he turned his head slowly, almost mechanically, to meet the mage's gaze. Anders felt a fire stirring in his belly under the elf's stare, and he had to force himself to look away. He tried to focus on conversation with Sebastian, on his food, on his drink, on anything but the elf across from him. But every time he chanced a glance in the elf's direction, he found the man was still staring at him.
Anders found the elf's stare both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and stared pointedly at Sebastian. He saw the prince's lips moving, but couldn't bring himself to understand the words. Sebastian didn't seem to notice Anders' distraction, and prattled on about what Anders assumed was important princely business.
And then all too soon and not soon enough, Sebastian decided the meal was over. The prince dropped his napkin on the table dramatically and apologized for ending dinner so early, and followed up by explaining again how much work he had.
"But, I promise I will pay you a visit as soon as I have time tomorrow," Sebastian told him, beaming.
Anders smiled back as convincingly as he could. "I'll be looking forward to it."
Sebastian, still smiling, waved his hand to signal to his guards. "Would someone be so kind as to escort Anders back to his suite?"
Anders felt his stomach do a somersault when the handsome elf practically vaulted off the wall to volunteer.
"Ah, Fenris, thank you," the prince said happily. Fenris nodded in acknowledgment, but didn't take his eyes from Anders.
As the prince wished him good night and took his leave, Anders tried not to appear as nervous as he felt. He tugged at the collar of his robes, which was suddenly tight and restricting, and became aware that he had started sweating.
Fenris nodded his head and held an arm towards the door through which Anders had come. It was an invitation for Anders to lead the way, and he happily obliged, grateful to be able to break eye contact. Fenris followed closely behind Anders as he guided them through the familiar paths back to his suites, but didn't say a word. Halfway to his tower, the silence between them was beginning to grow unbearable. He had to say something, Anders decided, and struggled to find his words.
"So," he started hesitantly, "you're new here." He grimaced as soon as the words left his mouth. What had happened to his prided quick wit and charms?
"I am," the elf replied coolly, and Anders could have sworn he saw a smirk briefly play across the man's lips.
And then the silence was back and even worse than before. Anders had to fight to keep from burying his head in his hands in embarrassment. What had this elf done to him? He normally had no qualms chatting up any of the guard or servants, and certainly had never experienced a silence this awkward in his life. But he was not about to make a bigger fool of himself, and solemnly decided to keep his mouth shut for the rest of this escort, no matter how uncomfortable the silence.
After what seemed like an eternity, they reached the top of the final staircase, and were strolling down the corridor leading to Anders' bed chambers. Anders paused in front of his bedroom door to glance at Fenris, and blushed when he found the elf staring back.
"Um, thanks," Anders stuttered awkwardly.
The elf merely bowed his head respectfully and smiled, a crooked grin that made him look like he was in on some joke that Anders wasn't, and then he turned and strolled back down the corridor and disappeared down the stairs.
Anders stood staring for a few long moments after Fenris had vanished from sight, trying to figure out what had just happened, before he sighed and let himself into his room.