Sebastian was pleased to see that Anders, while tense, got through the evening meal in the refectory, packed full of templars and mages as it was, without any obvious signs of stress. It may have helped that he was seated between Sebastian and Fenris, his dogs at his back and his cat curled up in his lap. He largely kept his attention on his plate, only occasionally looking up to glance at their table companions, and didn't take part in any of the conversations over the meal.

Afterwards Anders and Fenris headed back to their room, while Sebastian accompanied the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter to the Knight-Commander's office to discuss plans for the future of the Ansburg circle here in Starkhaven. Once the office door was closed and the three seated, a serious frown crossed the Knight-Commander's face. "Prince Vael, there is another subject we need to discuss with you first," he said worriedly, then turned to the mage. "Elisa, you're the one that brought me word..."

She nodded, and turned to Sebastian. "Prince Vael, I must ask – are you fully aware of the identity of the man, Anders, in your company? Or should I say, the mage Anders?"

"Yes, I am," he answered calmly. "I know that he is a mage from Ferelden, who was recruited by the Grey Wardens in Amaranthine and served among them for a while before fleeing to Kirkwall. I knew him in Kirkwall for many years. And before you ask, as I can see what information in particular it is you fear I do not know – yes, I am aware that it was he that was a key participant in the destruction of the Kirkwall chantry," he said, and flushed with remembered anger. "Few know it better than I," he finished softly.

The Knight-Commander frowned in concern. "And yet you allow this man to live? And even more, to walk free as one of your trusted companions?"

"Not free," Sebastian said, shaking his head and wondering how many more times to how many other people he was going to have to explain this. "He is my prisoner; he surrendered to me here in Starkhaven some weeks after the events in Kirkwall. I came close to killing him at the time. I don't know how much you have heard of my own history, but I served in the Kirkwall chantry for many years – technically speaking I am still a sworn brother, as the Grand Cleric never formally released me from all of my vows. She and I were... close. I thought very highly of her, and her death affected me deeply. In fact I initially returned to Starkhaven in anger, intending to reclaim my throne merely with the rather selfish aim of raising an army to hunt down the apostate and see him slain for his role in the events in Kirkwall."

"And what stopped you, then?" Lawrence asked curiously. "From killing him, that is – I would assume it was his own appearance here that prevented the need to hunt him down."

"Aye. Though I had already begun to see the selfishness of that goal when my people needed me here. The Grand Cleric had written a letter to me before her death; it was waiting for me in Starkhaven when I arrived. In it she chastised my readiness to give in to anger, and bade me to not seek vengeance – something she knew I had done before, after the Harriman family slaughtered my own. So I spared Anders life, rather than killing him out of hand; he is a talented healer, as you may know if you have heard much of his life in Kirkwall," he added, turning to look questioningly at Elisa.

"I have heard such, yes," she agreed. "The ones who came and told me of his identity after seeing him in your company had known him well; they were all originally from Kirkwall, apostates and circle mages both, and a few admitted they had even been part of the mage underground there and worked closely with him, though they had been unaware of his plans to destroy the chantry until it occurred."

"Good. Then you will understand that I thought it better to put his skills to use, than to leave him to languish in a prison. More, I do not feel that he was entirely responsible for his actions in Kirkwall," he added, and frowned, thinking how best to explain this without touching on subjects they had no need to know. "He had an accomplice, who played on his anger against templars and the chantry, and came up with the plan that he enacted. I believe he repents, now, of what he did under that creature's influence. And I cannot claim that I think he had no reason for his anger," he added, grimly. "I have seen the scars he bears from repeated whippings and other abuse. It does not make me forgive his actions in Kirkwall, you understand, but... it makes me see how easily he was manipulated into them, when he had suffered so much in the chantry's less than tender care," he finished softly.

Elisa looked at the Knight-Commander. Lawrence nodded slowly. "It has ever been a problem, that some templars – even some Knight-Commanders – treat their charges with abuse instead of protecting them from such. I know the Ansburg circle was led by one such man for some years – not the one before me, but the one before him."

Elisa nodded. "It was a very bad time," she agreed. "I remember all too well the fear we lived in, under him. Many despaired, and some broke, giving in to demons in their fear. Which he saw as reason to be even harsher with those that remained," she added grimly.

Lawrence nodded. "Among our older mages I am still dealing with the aftereffects that such unwarranted punishment raised. The end of the abuse does not end the anger, or the fears it inspired. Even after years of my leadership, I know there are those among our mages who do not trust that I will protect them, not prey on them. Though most such of those took the opportunity of the destruction of the circle to flee."

Sebastian nodded. "Well, rest assured that I am aware of Anders' identity, and of his actions. He lives on my sufferance."

Lawrence frowned. "Are you sure you can handle him if he attempts escape? With no templar to drain him..."

"I have something even better than a templar. My other companion, Fenris – he was originally the bodyguard of a Tevinter Magister, a slave in the Imperium. He has protections woven into his very flesh that make him largely immune to what any mage could attempt to do to him without a very thorough knowledge of how his protections work, and is also a formidable warrior. I have seen him walk up to and tear the very heart from the chest of a blood mage when all others in our group were rendered helpless. As an ex-slave, he has no love for mages. If Anders ever turned on us, I trust Fenris to see he does not survive the attempt. But I do not believe he will attempt such," he added, frowning. "He is in many ways a broken man, now. After all that happened to him in Kirkwall his rebelliousness seems to be largely gone, burnt out by his own horror at what he did there. I have given him my protection, some small degree of comfort, and work that is suited to his nature. I believe he is inclined to stay where he is."

"Anyway, enough of Anders, we have other things we should be discussing while I am here," Sebastian said. "Such as what other supplies you still need. And Fenris had an interesting thought about how to provide a library for your mages that I would like to discuss with you, as well..."

Fenris politely turned his back on Anders as both of them changed into their nightshirts, the close quarters giving them no real privacy. He neatly piled his armour on the floor beside his cot, having nowhere else to put it, then lay down, pulling the blanket he'd been provided with up to his waist.

Anders was just climbing onto his own cot, hampered by Ashes and Ganwyn trying to join him there before he'd even lain down. Fenris snorted, then pursed his lips and whistled sharply. Ganwyn whipped around to look at him in surprise, before bounding over to him, tail wagging furiously.

"Thanks, I think," Anders said as he finally succeeded in climbing into bed. "Why doesn't he do that for me..."

"Have you ever tried?"

"Well... no."

"Try."

Anders pursed his lips and whistled tentatively. Haelioni heaved herself upright and looked attentively at him, while Ganwyn immediately abandoned his attempt to worm his head under Fenris' arm. The smaller dog raced back to Anders' cot, leaping up on top of it and standing over the mage, sniffing and licking excitedly at his face and arms. Anders laughed and shoved him away. The dog snuck in a final lick then moved to the foot of the cot and draped himself across the mage's legs.

"The dogs are trained to respond to specific whistles," Fenris said. "I had an interesting talk with Sebastian about it one rainy afternoon when we visited the kennels. You should learn them; there is much more those two can do than just sit around, if you know how to direct them."

Anders frowned thoughtfully. "I remember when Sebastian and I picked them out, the kennel master used a lot of whistles with the dogs... you're right, I probably should learn them," he agreed, then sighed and turned over on his side, temporarily displacing Ganwyn and Ashes, so he could look at Fenris more easily. "So... it's far too early to actually sleep. I suppose we might as well talk for a while."

Fenris grunted. "Yes. Though perhaps about something other than Tevinter."

"Such as?"

"I find myself curious about the Circles of Magi. I have only really seen much of the circle in Tevinter and the Gallows in Kirkwall, neither of which, I am given to believe, are representative of what the majority of circles in Thedas are like. Tell me more about your own experience of what a typical circle is like."

Anders frowned in thought, and was silent for so long Fenris began to think he wasn't going to answer. Finally he sighed, curling up with Ashes held close in his arms.

"My own experience... the templars came for me when I was twelve or thirteen years old. My powers had manifested a couple of years prior to that; healing, after my father was injured while clearing land for our farm. He'd have turned me in to the chantry, except healing was so obviously useful and my mother begged him not to. They were both deeply religious and felt that my mage powers meant I was cursed by the Maker – an all too common belief wherever the chantry rules," Anders said bitterly. "But I was rebellious even then – I didn't want to spend the rest of my life as a farmer, as my father was – and to this day I don't know if my father himself eventually tired of me and turned me in, or if one of the neighbours whose family or livestock I healed did it."

"My mother... protested, when they came to take me, so I'm at least sure it wasn't her. One of the older templars lost his temper and hit her, with his fist... she fell to the ground, her head bleeding, and they hauled me away. My father just stood there, watching... she lay there on the ground at his feet, so very, very still. I have always feared that the blow killed her. I never saw them again, nor heard from them; the chantry discourages the parents of mage children from trying to remain in contact with them. If they even want to. Easier to control us, if we have no one we can turn to outside the towers," he said, with quiet bitterness.

Fenris nodded slowly. Anders' story so far reminded him uncomfortably of scenes he'd witnessed himself, when young slaves were sold away from their parent. Parent, singular – as most slaves were bred like livestock, only the maternal bond allowed for some little time while the child was being raised to a useful age, and not even always that, some masters preferring to have the babies raised in common by a few nurses rather than having their stock distracted by concern over progeny. Actual families among the slaves were rare, sometimes permitted by some of the less harsh masters, or found among slaves who'd been free before circumstances forced them into slavery.

"They took me to the Circle of Magi there in Ferelden. It was some days travel away... I tried to escape, unsuccessfully. They thought it was funny the first time. They saw that I was tied up at night after that, under the eye of the templar with guard duty. Most of them were decent enough men, I suppose, but there was one who... handled me, one night while the others slept. I was still innocent enough back then that I didn't understand what he was doing, just that it was frightening, and wrong. I was too scared to say anything about it to any of them. Thankfully we reached the tower the next day, and they went off back to wherever it was they'd been sent from – one of the local chantrys, I suppose, whichever was closest to where we were living."

A sardonic smile crossed his face. "The templars at the tower wanted to know my name, for their records. I refused to tell them – I was too angry by then. The templars who'd brought me didn't know it either, they'd either never asked or had forgotten it by then if they'd been told. But they knew from our accent that my parents and I were from the Anderfels, so they wrote me down in the records as 'Anders', and that's whom I've been ever since."

He sighed, deeply. "I had no more interest in staying locked up in the tower than I'd had of being stuck on a farm for the rest of my life. So I started keeping an eye out for a way to escape, and eventually managed to do so. I was caught, of course, and brought back. And escaped again, and again. Each time I was brought back I was given a worse punishment. Oh, just minor things at first, like being on kitchen duty for a month, or forbidden the library for a while. It was still just a joke to them, the homesick boy trying to go home, or so they thought. And then I got older, and more skilled, and it stopped being a joke."

He silent for a very long time before speaking again. "I'd learned quickly. The Knight-Commander threatened me with tranquillity once or twice after my earliest escapes, and the last time he really meant it. But they're not allowed to make harrowed mages tranquil, so I pretended to have really been cowed, and made like a good little mage brat for a year, until he'd decided I'd finally learned my lesson and allowed me to be harrowed. And promptly escaped again – it was months before they caught me that time," Anders said, sounding very self-satisfied for a moment.

"Greagoir was... livid. That was the first time he ordered me whipped, and locked up for a while. That wasn't too bad, not that time anyway. I still had the use of my power, so I healed up and spent the month plotting my next escape attempt, and how to avoid the templars after I did. They kept a close eye on me for months afterwards, and then the first time they didn't, I lit out again."

"Greagoir gave up on me after that," Anders said, very softly. "He left my discipline up to one of his lieutenants. I don't know if he didn't know or just didn't care about what an... animal, that man could be, given free rein. No powers, kept poisoned with mage bane and locked away for several months, spiced with occasional beatings, more whippings... Finally I was let back out. I healed whatever hadn't already healed naturally afterwards, and as soon as I could I escaped again."

"When I was brought back from that... they put me in solitary, for a year. Except I wasn't left on my own, not all the time. They'd come visiting some nights, the templars who wanted to enjoy playing with the helpless mage. They always kept their helmets on and usually didn't speak, so I'd have no way of identifying them. For all I know, Greagoir was one of them... one of the ones who came and did unspeakable things to me in the dark. I had a lot of scars when I was finally let out again. Not just on my skin. Ones I knew better than to let anyone know about; it had been made clear to me that if I gave away their little games, they'd see I died for it, in as creatively nasty a way as they could manage. No one would care to investigate the death of a mage with as bad a reputation as I had by then."

"The next time I escaped from the tower was my last. Oh, they caught me again, up in Amaranthine, and were hauling me back – for execution this time, since I'd long outworn any urge toward leniency Greagoir might have once felt. And then my life was saved by the strangest string of events I'd ever encountered in my life, ending with me being conscripted into the Grey Wardens."

He paused for a long time again, then rolled over on his back. "I... almost liked that. I liked our commander, I made friends among the wardens. I had a cat, and a place that was mine, and work that was useful. I might be there yet, except... Justice and I merged. And too many things changed, including Soria being called abroad for a while, and an ex-templar Grey Warden deciding that I was an abomination and trying to betray me to the chantry. Justice and I killed him, and the templars he'd brought with him, and then I ran away again."

Another long pause. "I'm tired of running," he said, in a very quiet voice.

"Do you remember what I said to Hawke, the first time we met?" Fenris asked quietly. "About running?"

"No. Wait... something about a tiger?"

"Yes. I told him, there comes a time when you must stop running, when you turn and face the tiger."

Anders frowned in thought. "I think I believed that was what I was doing, in Kirkwall. Facing the tiger. Attacking the chantry, trying to bring down the system of circles and mage repression... now I think back to how certain I felt about everything I did in Kirkwall, and I... can't feel that certainty any more. I wonder if it was ever really my own emotion, or just... Justice. Vengeance. Leaking."

They lay silently for a while, both lost in thought.

"I thought you told Sebastian once that you'd been fortunate – that you'd never been beaten or raped by templars," Fenris asked hesitantly, very quietly.

"I lied," Anders said, voice flat and emotionless. "Back then... well, back then neither you nor Sebastian were people I'd have shared any real confidences with."

"And now?"

A short laugh. "Do you have to ask? I've just told you something I've only ever told three beings before. Soria, Justice and Hawke. Well, and some of it to Sebastian too, I think... I was a little out of my skull at the time, so I'm not quite sure how much of it he really knows."

Another long silence.

"Thank you for telling me, Anders."

"You're welcome. Fenris."