When he was ten Mama and Papa took a shop in Highever. He was confused at first. He didn't know why they were staying in the same spot all the time instead of traveling. He missed the wagon. He missed Magda the cart horse (she had died in the spring while they were stopped at Amaranthine - Papa had said it was a sign).

But then he started to get used to it. The house was small for a house, but enormous by Anders' standards. He and Jairo and Maeve had a room of their own - they had their own beds and little chests to keep toys (or in Anders' case, books).

They still traveled out of the city every now and then, but they didn't go very far. The furthest was to Amaranthine, which was only a week away.

The shop was at the front of the house. Father didn't sell armour any more. Instead he sold the poultices and salves that Mama made, and some jewelry that he still traded for. Anders sometimes kept the shop while Mama and Papa did other things, but mostly he studied and played with the other children.

There were lots of children in Highever. Anders had known a few of them, but none of them very well. They'd played with them whenever they were in town, but they were treated differently when they were there as merchants - just another person to fill in the game of football or chasey or wardens and darkspawn. Anders never really talked to them, just ran around with them. Now he actually had friends who he sought out to play with... or get into trouble with as Papa said.

When they'd been in Highever for a year, Anders had almost forgotten what it was like to travel on the roads. Part of him felt sad sometimes, when he thought of all the places he'd been, but part of him was happy as well. He had friends now - it was easier to look after Maeve and Jairo and Mama and Papa didn't mind if he wandered around the town.

When he was eleven, though, he was almost captured by Templars.

Mathus was a bully. He liked to tease Jairo because he was small. He would tease Maeve because she was a girl and he'd tease Anders for being a bastard. He'd tease the other kids for everything he could think of - for being short, or being fat, or being skinny. Anders often wondered why it always had to be something physically wrong that prompted Mathus' ire - there were a few kids in Highever who were - Anders privately thought - as dumb as posts, but Mathus never teased them for that. Perhaps, he thought eventually, it was because Mathus didn't realise they were stupid, being too stupid himself.

Papa laughed when Anders told him his theory and patted him on the shoulder. "You're absolutely right, Anders," he said. "Stupidity loves company as well, my boy. Stay away from this Mathus, and let me know if he bothers you or your brother and sister."

Anders knew Papa wasn't his real father - Mama had told him ages and ages ago, but Mama and Papa were married so in Anders' books that meant it didn't matter. But Mathus thought it was fun to point out Anders blonde hair and how different he looked from Maeve and Jairo and make everyone else point and look as well.

He really didn't care, although from the looks he got he assumed he was supposed to. The fact that he never got angry about it seemed to drive Mathus more crazy than anything, though. And as time wore on he started doing more than just pointing and jeering.

If Anders went out on his own, he nearly always ran into the bigger boy. Mathus tried a lot to goad Anders in to attacking him, but Anders didn't rise to it - he knew he would only get into trouble if he fought, and he also knew that Mathus would beat him soundly. He would be lying if he said he'd never gotten into a fight before, but he knew his limitations and preferred being labelled a coward to bleeding.

Blood was never nice.

Finally, one day when Anders was running an errand for Papa, he turned a corner into a fist.

Suddenly he was on the ground and somewhat surprised to be. He looked up and was considerably less so to see the reason for it.

"What is your problem Mathus?" Anders said.

"You're a bastard, posh pants," Mathus said. Posh pants, Anders thought. There's an insult worthy of a bard.

Anders also noticed that Mathus' pants were significantly more posh than his. Mathus' father was a merchant, just like Papa, but he made significantly more money than Anders' family. No one knew exactly how.

"Does that mean you can hit me?" he said, sitting up and rubbing his nose. There was blood coming out of it. He had to resist the temptation to heal it.

"I can hit whoever I want," Mathus said.

"Oh really?" Anders said. "Why don't you go into the Chantry and hit the Revered Mother then?"

Mathus shifted from foot to foot, eyes narrowing. "Don't want to hit her," he said finally.

Anders clambered to his feet, only to have Mathus' hit him again and set him back on his behind.

"Mathus, quit it!" Anders shouted. "You're not going to get me to fight you!"

"I guess you just get to keep getting hit then," Mathus said, bunching his fists up and coming at Anders at a run.

He managed to roll over and avoid the first rush, but Mathus for all his size was quick and before Anders knew it the bigger boy was on top of him, pounding his face and body with fists. He tried to shield himself with his arms, but it was little use - he just ended up with bruised arms. They were in a deserted alleyway. He hoped someone would come by and find them, but he knew somehow, that Mathus had with uncanny intelligence, picked the only place on his route where this was unlikely in the extreme.

He lay there for a while, getting more and more battered, wondering exactly how he was going to explain this to Papa and feeling stupidly guilty that he wasn't going to get to deliver Papa's message to the castle... then he began to be aware of something building inside him.

He knew it was magic. He knew he wasn't allowed to use magic. He didn't think he could control it. Every time one of Mathus' fists connected with him he felt it build higher. He tried to roll up into a ball, tried to clench down on it, even tried fighting back with his fists, but the knot in his gut that was his magic kept growing and growing and he could make no headway against Mathus and it hurt so much every time he was hit...

There was an explosion of light. Mathus was blown away from him. He felt hot - there was fire. He screamed.

There was silence. He rolled onto his front, terrified of what had happened, and looked up.

Mathus was lying against the wall of the alley. There were scorch marks on his shirt.

"Andraste's... knickers..." Anders said through bruised lips. He crawled to Mathus, feeling with his healing sense exactly how badly he was hurt.

It was bad.

The panic that took hold of Anders then was almost paralyzing. If Mathus died, they'd know it was from magic. If Mathus lived, they'd know it was from magic. The choice was easy, but it would have to be quick or he wouldn't have time to get away.

He lurched to his feet, hurting everywhere Mathus had hit him, and stumbled over to the prone boy, calling on his power for the first time without worrying about keeping it secret. There was no way, if there were any Templars around, they hadn't felt that.

He directed it at himself after he'd healed Mathus. Then he ran.