They do not normally speak of love. Although there is love between them, it is not the kind shared by lovers, and does not have much to do with this. Love is not the reason for hiking up robes or letting them fall to the floor, for quick trysts in deserted storage rooms or proper tumbles between or on top of sheets. Love is not why they are resting in each others arms like they do now; it is simply a comfort to be close, to feel the warmth of another person. At least, it should not be more than that. And that more should not be talked about, perhaps not even thought about.
No one should whisper about it in his ear while tracing secret patterns on his chest like Anders does, and Karl should not enjoy it beyond the pleasing physical contact.
"Don't you ever dream about it?" Anders asks. "Wonder what it would feel like?"
"I do," Karl admits. Lying will do no good.
Being confined to a tower for the rest of his life does not stop him from having dreams or from feeling. Mages has to know how to guard their hearts or be forced to learn in the most painful of ways, but the rules and the implied threats put in place cannot take away their ability to love. It is something that has to be forever kept in check and held back, something to hold a constant watch over and fight against when it tries to break through the carefully built defences.
It is tiring, to hold back something so natural, something that should be allowed to be essential.
Of course he dreams about it. Of course he wonders what it would feel like, to simply give in and let himself feel all that he was meant to feel.
"Do you want it?"
How can he not?
"Not in here," is as close to a yes as he dares speaking out loud.
Anders sighs. "Me neither. Never in here. We should not have to be here."
Karl lets his lips brush against his forehead as a silent agreement. They speak of the need for change at times, with hushed voices in empty rooms; Anders filled with hope and Karl with some doubt. He does not completely lack hope; he simply knows that hope is never a promise.
"In… ten years, perhaps things will be different," he murmurs in Anders' ear because Anders needs hope in a different way than Karl himself does, something to fuel his fire.
"They better be. Or I will do something drastic." His tone is not of the completely serious kind, but Karl does not doubt it.
"I know," he sighs. "A hundred years from now, they will definitely be, though. For people like you and me."
Free of towers and free to feel, to love without the fear of templars tearing them apart. He doubts that they will ever have that freedom, but some day, other mages will. It feels safer, to hope for the future of others and not his own. Some days, that is his only way to touch hope at all.
The look in Anders' eyes is clear: he wants it now. And Karl is strangely glad that he does.