Prompt time! Finally!
I hate you.
He'd always been able to tell when someone was looking at him. Probably a side effect of the magic. But these eyes were boring into the back of his head. He leaned back in his chair, ignoring the disapproving look from the senior enchanter teaching the class - really, he knew all this already, what was the point... but his posture meant he could see in the window a reflection of two people who had come into the classroom. Wynne - the pompous old **** who taught healing (nowhere near as well as... she had taught him though) and someone else.
A tall man. Traces of brown - or dark blond in the mostly grey hair. Shadowed eyes. Impressive beard. He was dressed in what at first looked like senior enchanter robes, but they had subtle differences and Anders suddenly wondered if he was finally seeing the famous first enchanter.
Off galavanting in the outside world for two months, he thought bitterly, while the rest of us get to stay locked up playing at scholarship when we could be out there doing something...
He turned around to get a better look, even less inclined than usual to care that Enchanter Tobin would get angry with him and probably make him.. oh, write an essay or something as punishment. The older man fixed him with a brown stare that held that look he'd gotten used to over the past few weeks. That look of what can you do. Or more precisely what can I use you for. They all had it, the seniors. They all looked at the apprentices as though they were pieces of meat - or coin. What can we get out of them? How much will they make us? How long can we use them?
He'd been stupidly hopeful, on the trip. He'd thought that circle mages might have been more like his mother - respect the power, use it for good. But some of them didn't even want their magic.
He hated them. And he hated him most of all, he supposed. He wondered if he even knew what the Templars did when they found their precious little apprentices. He wondered if he knew they let innocent people die by interfering in things they didn't even understand.
Two days later he was called into the First Enchanter's office.
"Anders," the man said, not even looking up from his papers. "Take a seat."
Anders crossed his arms over his chest and did his best I'm-a-sullen-fifteen-year-old stare. His stepfather had always laughed at that one. He doubted this man had ever laughed a day in his life. Irving looked up at him and sighed.
"Very well, if it pleases you to stand."
"You wanted to see me, First Enchanter," he said.
"The senior enchanters tell me that you're surprisingly well versed in magic already," he said. "They suspect you've been trained."
"What if I have?"
"The Templars want to know by whom."
Anders felt all the anger he'd been bottling up - and he hadn't even realised he'd been bottling it, truly, he honestly thought he'd been letting it go whenever he needed to - boil up to the surface in a rush.
"Well they're not going to find out," he said. "Do you think I'd betray another mage - any mage - to live in this **** of a place?"
The First enchanter winced at his language, but his eyes didn't change. "Anders, you know the Templars are going to search your hometown and its surrounds very thoroughly for whoever taught you. Chances are they'll find them in any case."
Not if they're already dead, he thought, the lance of pain that shot through him almost forcing tears from his eyes. "If I was taught by someone smart enough to avoid them this long, don't you think they'll know that too?" he said. "You're not going to make me betray them. No matter what you say."
The First Enchanter's eyes flashed with what Anders' thought was anger. "You won't tell us?"
He clamped his mouth shut and shook his head firmly.
Irving let out another large sigh. "Well then, we're not torturers," aren't you? Anders thought, "so we'll let it rest for now. Hopefully eventually you'll understand it's for their own good. How are you settling in, otherwise?"
Anders blinked. "Settling in?"
"Yes, how are you finding things? Are you comfortable? Are you learning well?"
Anders opened his mouth in frank astonishment. How on Thedas could that man even ask the question of him?
"You truly want to know how I'm settling in?" he said. "Are you completely and utterly stupid?"
The older mage looked up and fixed Anders with a stare that was part icy and part... something totally undefinable. "I hope you find it in your heart to learn what you can from us, Anders," he said, as though Anders had said nothing at all, as though his words might as well have sunk into the ocean.
"Well, that's good for you, I suppose," Anders replied. "I'm told hope springs eternal."
"You may go."
He turned on his heel and left before he could let his mouth say anything that might actually get him into some trouble.
Maker's breath, he thought. I truly hate that man.