Mr. Wiggums had come to visit again. He sat, purring, in Anders' lap as he stroked the cat's fur. The situation was far more bearable when he had company, though the light spilling through open shutter still burned his eyes. He recited his list in his mind, trying to make sure he didn't forget it again.

Suddenly, Mr. Wiggums' ears perked up, and the cat leapt off his lap and out the window. Anders watched him go, confused. It wasn't time for him to be fed yet, was it? It felt too early. His friend only left when the Templars were coming, but maybe he'd just heard a mouse or something.

Heavy footsteps proved him wrong, and Anders' heart started to race. More than one Templar was coming. Maybe they were locking someone else up? Yes, that must have been it. They had no reason to come for him. Yet his mind conjured images of violence and torture. Despite what he'd been through, it could always get worse. Anders took a few deep breaths, steadying himself, and tucked his notebook into the back of his pants just in case.

Armoured legs stopped in front of the window, and he could hear the door being unlocked. Fear lanced through the mage as he shrunk into the corner of his cell. The door swung open, the sound grating his ears, and he shut his eyes against the sudden brightness. Just having the window open before had felt like staring directly into the sun, but it was so much worse with the entire door now splayed wide. One of the Templars stepped into his cell, and Anders jumped as the guard stopped in front of him. Squinting, he looked up at the armoured figure.

"Get up." said the guard.

Anders froze, still staring up at his captor. What was happening? Had they come down here to do something worse to him? Hadn't they done enough already?

"I said, get up!" the guard demanded, louder this time.

Anders shrank back instinctively, trying to look as small as possible. He didn't understand what was happening, but he was terrified. The guard looked as though they were about to physically grab him when they were interrupted.

"Let me handle this." A familiar voice said from beyond the open door.

Moments later, a robed figure joined them in the cell. Anders peered at the new visitor and recognized it as First Enchanter Irving. His eyes widened despite the harsh glare. Anders glanced between the two of them, confused. He suddenly felt even more claustrophobic with so many people in the small space.

The First Enchanter crouched down with a groan to put himself at Anders' level. Anders jumped further back into the wall, frightened of the closeness.

"It's alright, son. You're leaving this place today. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Irving said carefully, trying to gauge Anders' reaction.

Anders just stared at him with disbelief. He was finally leaving? After all this time? Part of him was angry. Irving had let him rot in here, not doing anything about it until the other mages found out. Anders wanted to scream at him, to strike him, to hurt him as he'd been hurt for allowing this to continue.

But instead, he just looked up and nodded, first hesitantly, and then with fervour.

Irving smiled at him, and reached out a hand before saying, "Good. Come on then, let's get you out of here."

Anders looked at the outstretched hand in front of him for a moment before grabbing on to it like a drowning man gasping for air. Irving gently helped him up, allowing Anders to lean on him for support. It'd been so long since he'd walked anywhere that his legs didn't seem to remember how.

As they left the cell, the light seared Anders' eyes. He immediately flinched away from it as the Templars closed the door behind him. Irving patiently waited until Anders was ready to continue their trip away from the dungeons. Squinting, Anders took in his surroundings.

The once-cramped halls seemed absolutely spacious compared to his prison. As they carefully moved up the steps, he stumbled more than once and the First Enchanter caught him. The fury he'd felt for the man earlier was gone, and for the moment he was simply thankful for the help. Anders wondered briefly how long it would be before he was fully functional again. He quickly decided he didn't want to know the answer.

The walk went on for what felt like an eternity. Every muscle in Anders' legs burned despite the slow pace. The Templar escort had abandoned them once they'd left the dungeons and Irving insisted he could handle it. Anders, panting hard, stumbled again and gestured for the First Enchanter to stop. He took a moment to catch his breath.

"How… Long?" Anders asked with difficulty.

Irving looked puzzled before guilt coloured his expression. He looked away, as if not wanting to meet the younger mage's eyes.

"A year." he said flatly.

Anders reeled. He'd been left in there for a year?! That was bloody barbaric, even by Templar standards. Anger flared within him again, but he swallowed it.

"…Why?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Irving stared at the ground before responding, "Greagoir wanted to teach you a lesson. He told me to keep quiet and not to interfere, that he'd decide when it had been enough. Eventually I couldn't stand it any longer, and let it slip to the rest of the Circle. After some unrest, he finally relented."

Irving paused for a moment, and Anders didn't know what to say. He knew even the First Enchanter couldn't overrule the Knight-Commander, but that didn't excuse it. Nothing could excuse what they'd done to him.

Irving looked him straight in the eyes before continuing, "I'm sorry, son. I should've done more and I knew it. I didn't really believe they'd leave you there that long."

"I understand." Anders lied, his own gaze now fixed on the ground.

He didn't have the will to be angry anymore. He just wanted to get this endless walk over with and to get away from the man who had failed him so severely. Irving thought for a moment, and nodded before they continued on. Anders had to grit his teeth as every step sent a wave of pain lancing through his legs.

Finally, blessedly, after far too many stairs, they reached the mages' quarters. Anders looked at the high ceiling and his head spun, unable to comprehend the staggering height. Had the room always been this big? It was empty once again, but he hadn't the energy to be worried this time. Perhaps it had been a favour, to give him some time to adjust.

The First Enchanter planted him in front of a looking glass and went to fetch a wash basin. Anders stared at the figure gazing back at him, or should he say through him. He couldn't even recognize the face he saw there, gaunt and pale, with dark circles under sunken eyes. His hair was long and scraggly, his beard equally unkempt. His cheekbones were too visible, looking almost as though they were going to slice through his skin. He delicately touched his cheek, almost expecting the man in the mirror not to copy the movement.

Irving returned, placing the wash basin in front of him. Anders glanced up, and nodded his gratitude before the First Enchanter left him to it. He washed himself, almost absentmindedly. He couldn't believe this was really happening, that it was real. It felt like a dream, and he was terrified he'd wake up back in his cell. He shuddered, and dug his nails into his arms. Delicious pain, but the world didn't fade. He didn't wake up, or come out of a hallucination. He remained right there, at the wash basin, and not in his cell.

Without realizing it, Anders found himself staring at the near-skeletal form in the mirror before him. Pale skin stretched over sharp bones, ribs nearly jutting through. His waist dipped in alarmingly far, and if it hadn't been his own body, the mage would have wondered how someone in such poor shape could still be alive. Realizing he'd been staring for too long, he forced himself to look down and focus on the task at hand.

He continued washing himself, somewhat disturbed by the amount of dirt coming off. He supposed it made sense though, considering he'd been in there for a year. He stopped.

A year… It was still hard to process. A year locked away in the dark, completely alone. How had he survived that? Anders had read of soldiers going mad after a couple months. To be fair though, he had gone mad. He'd only snapped out of it because of his notebook.

At that thought, he pulled the book from the now-discarded clothes nearby, gently running his fingers over the cover. He'd have to take extra care in hiding it in the future. It was more than simply a list now.

After he'd finished bathing, the mage put on the fresh robe already laid out for him. The softness of the fabric sent a cold shiver down his spine. After all that time, he'd actually gotten used to the scratchy rags. Lastly, he picked up the blade provided and began to shave his beard to a more manageable length. He watched his reflection as the hairs fell. When he was done, he somehow looked even thinner and instantly regretted it. Inspecting himself further, Anders also noticed how the robes that used to fit him so well hung loosely from his frame. He sighed deeply. Why he was even so concerned with vanity at a time like this, he didn't know. Perhaps it was just because he looked half a corpse. After taking one last glance at the mirror, he began moving to his bed.

Walking without assistance was harder than he thought, but he swore he'd manage. He could see his destination, a bed just like all the others save for the embroidered pillow he kept on it. He'd made it halfway before he had to stop for a break, leaning against a nearby bunk and panting heavily.

After catching his breath, he heard the sound of quiet steps behind him just before he felt a hand on his shoulder. Anders spun, fast enough to make his head swim, putting his hands in front of his face in a defensive posture.

"It's alright, Anders. It's just me." Karl said calmly.

Anders exhaled, relieved, and relaxed. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. He found himself staring over the other man's shoulder, detached, as Karl looked him over.

"Maker's breath, what did they do to you?" Karl finally said, sounding aghast.

Before Anders could respond, the other mage pulled him into a tight embrace. Anders first stiffened, unaccustomed to the physical contact, before relaxing and squeezing back as hard as he could. He relished the feeling of this warm body against his, amazed at how the closeness could feel so nice. He could feel his bones stabbing into Karl, but the man made no move to indicate discomfort. Even still, reluctantly, Anders forced himself to relax his grip a bit.

"Karl… Sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable… I haven't exactly been this close to anyone in a while." Anders said, failing to keep his usually light tone.

Karl lifted his head to look at Anders. For some reason, the blonde man found it hard to meet his eyes. It was too intimate, too intense. Karl smiled kindly for a moment, likely for Anders' benefit, before his expression switched to one of concern.

"Anders, you have absolutely nothing to apologize for. I can't imagine what you went through in there. Are you alright? What exactly happened?" Karl inquired.

Anders let out a dark laugh. Did he bloody well look alright? He tried to chase his bitterness away and looked back at Karl. As he opened his mouth to explain, tears spilled from his eyes, and he found himself sobbing into the other man's shoulder, clutching desperately at his robes. To be in the same room with another person, to talk to them, to feel their touch; it was all too much. It'd been so long since he'd had the chance to do such things. He knew he probably seemed weak, breaking down like this over seemingly nothing. He'd never been the sensitive type before, and he absolutely hated feeling so vulnerable.

Yet Karl didn't say anything, and simply held him close, stroking his hair. When Anders had cried himself out, Karl helped guide him to the bed so they could sit. Anders then told Karl what had happened, that he'd been caught after escaping again and about his experiences in the cell. Despite his better judgement, he even mentioned the demons and the hallucinations, how he'd lost his mind until the book had been delivered.

"You can't possibly understand how much that helped. Thank you so much. I…" Anders trailed off, remembering his realization in the cell.

"You're welcome. I just… I wanted so much to get you out of there, but I knew that wasn't possible. I needed to do something, and that was all I could think of. After seeing you, hearing you talk about it, knowing the torture you faced… I wish I could've done more." Karl replied, his voice pained

"It was enough, Karl. Without that, I would've been too far gone by now for anyone to help me. I can only imagine the risk you took, but you saved me, whether you knew it or not." Anders said, his gaze travelling to the ground at the unsaid words.

Karl gently cupped his cheek, bringing Anders' face back towards his own before saying, "I had to do it. After finding out what they'd done to you… I couldn't bear it. I care about you too much…"

It was then Karl's turn to trail off and look away. Anders cursed himself at his inability to deal with his feelings. He'd hesitated the last time, and he wasn't going to do it again. He told himself he was already being uncharacteristically serious, so now was as good a time as any.

"I realized something in there, Karl." Anders paused, having trouble forming the words. "I was wrong. I trust you… and I do have feelings for you. I didn't… I was too scared to admit it before."

He then took Karl's face in his hands and looked straight into his eyes.

"I'm not afraid anymore. They've broken me once, and they will never do it again. I swear to you, I will never let those Templar bastards take you from me." he said, taking comfort in the strength of his own words.

Karl gawked at him, obviously shocked at the sudden admission, before smiling broadly. He pulled Anders in close again, gently kissing the top of his head. Anders smiled back, enjoying the moment. As the two men held each other, Anders could feel the fire he'd always had inside return. He would escape again, and this time it would be final. Then he could find a way to save Karl too, and they'd find somewhere safe from the hunters, somewhere they could stay and pretend the Circle didn't even exist. The Templars had taken his spirit from him, but he'd gotten it back. He vowed never to let them take anything else from him again, no matter what he had to do.