He remembered the true horrors of the circle. He was just a boy when Ser Jarvis took a shine to him. He called him his little Anders, brought him sweets and, tussled his hair. He thought nothing of it, in fact the man had put him in a state of ease. So many things about the circle where scary, new, but this templar was kind to him while the others looked at him like he was some kind of subhuman vermin.
"Do you like me?" Ser Jarvis asked him in an empty hallway in the tower.
"I guess, you are nice to me, I do like getting sweets." He responded nervously, he did not want the man's kindness to end. He was pleased to see the older templar smile and returned the gesture.
"I wondered if you could meet me late my little Anders, I have a surprise for you, but you have to wait until everyone is asleep, can you stay up that late for me, I promise you that you will like my surprise." Ser Jarvis said licking his lips slightly.
He had not expected what happened that night, he had trusted him, viewed him as a grandfatherly figure. In the library he had tried to explain to his little Anders not to be ashamed of his body, he wanted him to undress. What happened next was a blur, several templars rushed in surrounding Ser Jarvis.
"Again Jarvis...we have to end it now" A helmeted templar said with disgust.
"No I was bewitched...entranced...he, he is a blood mage! He was controlling my actions, he is making me feel this way!" Jarvis exclaimed frantically, forcefully throwing Anders to the floor.
"That worked the first time Jarvis, this one is younger, he just got here, how do you expect us to believe he is a blood mage?" The templar shouted, then ran his sword through Jarvis. The warm blood pooled on the cold floor soaking the prone shaking boy.
"What do we tell the knight-commander?" asked one of the templars. The other sheathed his blade and paused for a moment.
"We tell him Jarvis had been controlled by a blood mage and we had to strike him down. We have suspected the mage Olden of using blood magic for awhile. We shall slay him and kill two birds with one stone." He replied with no hint of regret.
"And what of the Anders boy?" The other templar questioned.
The first templar grabbed Anders up by the collar and shook him harshly. "You saw nothing boy!" He slammed him hard against the wall, he cried out in pain, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I swear I will kill you if I ever hear you discussing this to anyone, do you understand me!" he barked. Racked with sobs he nodded.
…...
He was seventeen, freshly caught from another escape attempt. He had gotten to Redcliff and had hoped to join a caravan heading north for trade, but they had found him, they always did. Now they had bound his hands, forcing him to walk led by a frayed itchy rope. It was to humiliate him, he knew it, they lead him threw the market district in town. Everyone pointing and gasping at the captured run away mage.
At there campsite, he could tell something bad was coming. They had been unusually rough with him as they led him out of the city, and now they bound him to a tree. He wished he was stronger, wished he could just blast them into oblivion. His mind was so consumed with anger he did not notice the two templars move towards him.
"How many times now Anders, how many times, and every time we have to go on and fetch you back. I frankly grow weary of it." He heard the templar unbuckling his armor. "I have to teach you a lesson." he said harshly while the other templar let out a small laugh. "Don't even think about screaming, Ser Divac though, I suspect is going to keep your mouth quite occupied.
…...
"You had to be punished, you know better than to run Anders, I will pray that the maker forgives you." He stood in disbelief, he had just bared his soul to Sister Beatrice. He had sobbed, openly sobbed recounting the abuse he had suffered, and she blamed him.
"I was raped." he hissed venom in every syllable.
"You will not use that language in the house of the maker boy! Now if you'll excuse me." she turned and left, leaving Anders shaking with rage.
…...
The horrors rang through his mind, Justice clawing to get out, to strangle the archer, that chantry puppet. He wanted to know about abuses in the circle, he would hear it.