Disclaimer: Recognizable stuff isn't mine. I'm just playing with it.

Prompt #8: Languid

Façade

Anders didn't know how long it had been since he'd last moved. Nearly naked, curled under the ratty, scratchy woolen blanket they'd given him, the filthy remains of his clothes acted as a pillow. It was dark. He was shackled with the special chains they used to prevent magic. He may have slept at some point; he didn't know.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that conserving his energy was a good idea when they might forget to feed him, but in reality, he hadn't moved because there was no point. Scream and shout at the walls, protesting his innocence, moan and pretend some illness so they'd come to see what was wrong? No one would hear. No one would care, especially not the silent sentinels guarding the hallways of the dungeons. They didn't even give the creak of leather and steel a living guard would. Even the air was stale and unmoving, confirming the fact that Anders was as far away from any help he could imagine. Rats had no reason to come here. Even the chains above didn't clink or rattle. The only sounds he heard were ones he made himself, loud and grating in the dark.

Silent, alone. Solitary.

Against all odds, there was a noise outside his cell. He almost thought it was something new in his shallow breathing with how faint it started, but it kept changing and growing louder, as if it was growing closer. Anders only half-listened, as if he was being polite to some foreign storyteller he could only understand half the words of through his accent. It couldn't be relevant to him. Nobody came here heralded by strange noises. Nobody could possibly want to rescue him.

Anders only thought about changing his mind when the crackle and explosion sounded impossibly loud outside the heavy wooden door of his cell. Even more unbelievably, the door swung noisily open on its iron hinges and a familiar figure was silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway.

Anders languidly stared up at the newcomer as his eyes attempted to adjust to the new light.

A familiar voice choked out a familiar series of sounds. "Oh Maker, what have they done to you, Anders? Here, put these on. We're getting out."

The prisoner blinked as he suddenly found a pile of clean clothes at the fingertips of his one exposed hand. Confused, he looked from the clothes to his rescuer and back again. He squinted at the familiar man. "Karl? Is that you?"

It was certainly Karl's voice that answered this time, "Yes. Now hurry, I can't break you out while you're still in rags, can I?"

Anders didn't remember dressing or his shackles being removed, but a heartbeat later he found himself running through the stone corridors of the Tower dungeons a pace behind his old lover. He took a moment to look down at the clothes he'd evidently thrown on and stopped abruptly.

Karl was by his side. "What's wrong?"

"Karl, these are Tevinter robes! Are you crazy? What if someone sees me like this?" He looked up to see the soft smile he remembered in the brown hair and beard he hadn't seen for . . .

When had he last seen Karl?

"As if they'll be any more understanding of our escape if we're wearing normal Circle robes?" It was only then that Anders noticed Karl was dressed exactly like he was, fluffy feathered shoulders, complicated belts, and all. He almost wished he had a mirror handy, because if he looked half as good as Karl did right now, he might make this a habit.

When Anders didn't reply, Karl took his hand and urged him on, "It's just a little farther, love. We'll be out in no time."

Anders looked up into familiar blue eyes, more striking than Karl's had ever been before, nodding silently. He wanted more than anything to get out of here.

The pair ran past charred templar corpses and empty hallways, moldy books and open windows. Cracked statuary greeted them at every corner, the indomitable Tevinter stonework seemed to be crumbling around them. They jumped over Knight-Commander Greagoir's unseeing face as they bounded to the closed door that would lead to the outside world. Ser Rylock, the female templar who'd dragged him back to the circle more than once was propped against the gigantic portal, and the ancient wood could be seen through a gaping hole in her chest.

Anders was about to ask his old lover something, but Karl had already released his hand to move Rylock's body and pull open the double doors. The young mage was dazzled by the bright sunlight and suddenly they were both outside on the opposite shore of Lake Calenhad.

Karl took Anders' hand again, and the blonde mage was startled by the contact. "Don't be afraid, Anders," the older mage said, "I'm giving you your freedom. I ask only one thing in return."

He blinked and looked down at their joined hands before looking into that familiar face once again, "And what's that?"

"Wherever you go, take me with you. We can go anywhere together, just you and me. No templar will ever part us again."

They were alone on the shore, just the two of them. He had seen no mages in the tower on their way through, only templar corpses, though in his addled state of mind, maybe that's all he wanted to see.

"How did you get here, Karl?" Anders wasn't looking at him anymore, but rather at the Tower that had been his prison in the middle of the lake.

"I heard what they did to you. I couldn't let them have you any longer. I love you too much."

The Tower seemed so far away to him now, as if he saw it through a haze. "And what about the other mages?"

"They will be free in time, just like you. Take me with you and we can make it happen, if you want."

The Tower seemed to crumble before his eyes, almost like the remnant of the Imperial Highway to the side. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" a confused note entered Karl's voice, "For what?"

"I'm sorry you're not Karl," Anders closed his eyes and sighed, "I'm sorry this isn't real."

"How can you say that?" the voice sounded pained, and its owner squeezed his hand tightly, holding it up to his chest, "I love you! I'm giving you everything you wanted!"

"Karl didn't love me. He was fond of telling me that you could be a lover without being in love. There's no way he could get out of Kirkwall without consequences for the other mages there, and he never would have put his own freedom before that of other mages, no matter how much he wanted it. I remember we argued about it." Anders smiled to himself. "You even got his eyes wrong. I don't know whose eyes those are, but his were a darker grey."

The young mage tore his face from the fascinating sight of the toppling Tower and looked back to the thing at his side that wasn't Karl. He squeezed its hand comfortingly. "Thank you for the dream, but I can't take your offer. I know I must look like a tempting target, but I rather like my head the way it is, demon-free."

The demon with Karl's face and another's eyes gazed back at him sadly. "We could have been good together, you and I. We could have destroyed the templars, freed Karl, even changed the world."

Anders shook his head. "I'm not interested in changing the world."

"I see." The demon sighed and dropped his hand. "I will not be the last, you know, nor will this be the last time I shall ask."

"My answer won't change," Anders told the image of Karl.

"Everyone has a price," the demon assured before disappearing into the mists of the Fade.