Circle Tower, Kinloch Hold, Tuesday Morning Fandom Time

[not_every_mage]

The trip from the spot in the Hinterlands where the portal had deposited them to Kinloch Hold had been longer than Anders would have thought, and surprisingly rough. The roughness, at least, seemed to have been intentional on the part of the Templars -- whatever Cassandra had told them out of Anders' hearing, it seemed to have scared any bit of human compassion out of them.

Then again, maybe that was just what Templars were like. Anders was suddenly very aware that he'd had plenty of time to forget.

There was a bit of a fuss at the Circle; apparently he'd been assumed dead, and having him back in one piece was causing all kinds of havoc to the Circle's record-keeping. Finally, though, one of the Tranquil housekeepers had given him a platter of bread and cold meat and shut him into a disused storage room. So he sat there on a sheet-covered barrel, nibbling on greasy sandwiches and wondering what was to become of him.

"Somehow," he told the very patient Lachlan, "I don't think they're making me wait so they can organize a welcome home party."

Karl Thekla	The door opened. Karl had fought loudly and hard to be the first to greet Anders; he'd called in a whole range of favors he'd had sitting 'round for a rainy day. But there he was, eyes big and worried through the widening crack between the door and the doorframe. "Anders?" he said quietly. "They're ready for you." This could end very, very badly. He was painfully aware of it.
Anders	A whole world of emotions crossed Anders' face in that instant: Dread, tenderness (that bit was for Karl), guilt, impatience. "Too bad," he said, carefully returning his face and emotions to neutral as he rose. "I was starting to like this closet. I think there's dried elfroot in here from three First Enchanters ago." He paused, and then, under his breath: "It's good to see you." He stepped through the door and into what seemed like an unfairly long hall to Irving's quarters. There were templars stationed all along the hall: Anders supposed the armed scrutiny was just another bit of his special welcome home.
First Enchanter Irving	First Enchanter Irving was waiting in his office for both of them. It was days like this that he felt very, very old. Karl and Anders were barely more than children... only Wynne had ever undergone her Harrowing so young, and only because of her immense talents. And now Greagoir wanted this wayward boy put to Tranquility or death, and the only possible way out for him was the Harrowing. Greagoir and he did not disagree openly on much, but on this--? This was too much. "Anders. Karl," he said, giving them both the kindest smile he could muster. "Come in, children."
Karl	They were not supposed to touch Anders, and while Karl had been dying to give the man some semblance of comfort, the glares of the templars had stopped him. Now that they were about to step into Irving's office, however, he dared - for just a second, touching Anders' back under the guise of guiding him into the room. "The, ah-- Anders. Is ready for his judgment." Maker, he was terrified.
Knight-Commander Greagoir	Knight-Commander Greagoir, who was standing at attention in full Templar armor with a similarly equipped trusted lieutenants on each side, made an audible noise of annoyance at Irving and Karl. (Mages. They could never be trusted to put good judgement above their loyalty to their own kind.) But when he spoke, he addressed only Anders. "Welcome back," he said levelly. "This was your fourth escape, wasn't it? It gets so hard to keep track. Anyhow, don't think we'll let you say something smart and wiggle away again. Irving and I are both taking your long absence very seriously."
Anders	Anders swallowed and clenched his hands into fists, nails sharp on his palms. (Maker, don't let me let them see me cry.) "I knew that you would," he said, in a strained but level voice. "Do you want me to explain what happened?"
Irving	"Greagoir," Irving sighed, barely managing not to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, "--I don't think sarcasm is necessary. I am sure Anders understands how very troubling we find this entire situation, and how disappointed we are in his method of expressing his dissatisfaction with Circle life." "If you have an explanation, Anders, we would all very much like to hear it." If the boy had been forced into it by someone taking advantage of his youth and vulnerability, that could, perhaps, be forgiven in time.
Karl	Maker. Karl winced, wanting to reach out and help more-- somehow. But somehow that noise that Greagoir made stilled his hand before he could put it on Anders' shoulder. He wasn't even the one on trial, and he felt like a blade might be pointed his way regardless. Should he-- he'd been complicit. Perhaps he should intervene. "I'm... certain he has one," he said, unsteady.
Anders	"I, er ..." Anders trailed off there. There was really no way to make 'I spent two years going to school in another universe' sound reasonable. Even if they believed him, it wasn't a very good excuse. "My last escape took me further from here than I knew it would," he finally said. "There wasn't an easy way back, and I felt as though I was becoming a better mage where I was. I had friends. I helped people. So I just ... stayed as long as the Seeker tolerated me." He didn't intend to bring up blood magic unless they did. He was being honest, not stupid.
Irving	"I'm sure you were a model apprentice, otherwise I doubt the Seeker would have allowed you to remain outside the Tower walls," Irving said, as kindly as he could. "No matter how difficult it would have been to return you. That you conducted yourself to her standards speaks well of your Circle training." Surely Greagoir couldn't argue that. The Seekers were even more severe than the templars. Had Anders been... problematic from his first day of freedom, no Seeker would have stood for it. "If this were just about your latest escape adventure, however, there would not be an army of templars outside my door."
Greagoir	"No, the army would be because of the Seeker's report that he was exploring blood magic," Greagoir reminded them. "Even if he didn't succeed -- and all we really know is that he wasn't caught at it -- mages who walk that path rarely return alive and sane. I don't relish the thought of harming him, but allowing him to live and keep his connection to the Fade puts us all at risk."
Anders	Ah. So that was going to come up. "I lost a lover," Anders said, not expecting it to be taken for much of an excuse. "Two in ten weeks, in fact. I thought that maybe some spirit --" He broke off there. "It was wrong," he said finally. "I know it as much as any of us. But if the only choices you feel you have are Tranquility or death, please make it death."
Karl	Karl probably shouldn't be focusing more attention on himself, but death...? He couldn't help it - he cleared his throat. "No," he said quickly, and then blanched as he realized he hadn't followed it up with a full thought. "I mean-- if he's only explored the thought, he didn't go down that path yet," he said, "He doesn't seem unstable. In fact, he seems rather sane to me. And cooperative." He steeled himself, locking his eyes on Greagoir. "And if he turns out to simply be hiding it... that is what we have Harrowings for, isn't it?"
Irving	Ah. And going by the look on Anders' face, it was more a permanent loss, rather than a loss of affection. "Death and love makes fools of us all," Irving sighed. "He is as sane as any grieving man can be, I think." He leaned forward, placing his chin on his hands. "I am personally inclined to grant you your Harrowing, Anders, in the hopes that you prove me right." He said. "However, I would urge you not to dismiss Tranquility out of hand. Passing your Harrowing will not ease your pain. Failing your Harrowing would mean your death, and you are still quite young to attempt the ritual. Tranquility is an option if you wish to keep your life, and no longer suffer from your loss."
Anders	For an aching moment, Anders almost considered it. The Tranquil didn't have any emotions or dreams -- but they also had no pain, knew no loss. A safe, calm life in the Circle, with useful work to occupy his hands and Karl's comforting presence ... it had its good points, didn't it? The memory of the blank eyes of the Tranquil drove that thought from his head. He cleared his throat. "I'll try the ritual," he said. "If I fail, I won't be much worse off than I would be if I turned it down." Maker, he hoped he had the strength to succeed. Being made Tranquil without a Harrowing was one kind of awful; attempting the Harrowing and failing added a sort of humiliation to the awfulness.
Karl	Karl let out an audible breath of relief, but his worried eyes were locked onto Greagoir. Please, Maker, agree to it. It's in the rules. Please. Anders returning to the Circle was a poor fate after tasting freedom, no doubt, but it was still better than death. Though Karl might have held some bias.
Greagoir	Greagoir permitted himself a brief, reassuring smile at Karl before speaking. "Irving and I have discussed that," he allowed, shifting his gaze to Anders. "The Templars are prepared for the Harrowing if we're all agreed. And if you had the mental strength to avoid demons while living as an apostate for this long, you've proven yourself more than half the mages who go through it."
Irving	"Both Geagoir and I want you to pass, Anders," Irving agreed, giving his old friend a small smile. "We both believe you can, if you remember your training and hold fast to that willpower of yours. Harness it to your benefit, for once, instead of for mischief, and prove us right." "Given the... unfortunate reason for you Harrowing, we must keep you isolated from the other apprentices until the ritual. Both for their safety, and yours." In case any of them decided to try and smother the potential blood mage in his sleep. "We've had a private cell prepared for you, so you won't have to sleep in the broom closet tonight." He fixed a look on Karl. "Apprentice, please join the templars as his escort to his room, but then you must return to your quarters." As much faith as Irving had in Anders' immense stubbornness to pass his Harrowing, there was always a chance of failure. There was no harm in allowing a friendly face along on the march to his private prison.
Karl	"Yes, First Enchanter." The words came out in a rush. Now that the pressure was off, Karl was reaching for-- All right, he'd been reaching for Anders' back for another brief touch, but he'd lost control of his hand somewhere along the way and now his knuckles were bumping against Anders' instead. "Let's go, then."
NAME	"Thank you. I won't make you regret it," Anders told the older men, with a funny little bow. Despite his depression, he was pleasantly surprised at their decision. Never an optimist, he hadn't gone into the meeting expecting anything as merciful as a Harrowing. (Not that Harrowing was mercy, exactly, if one compared it to anything short of immediate death. But by Circle metrics, that made the ritual mercy itself.) As they turned to go, he gave Karl's hand a quick, hard squeeze of gratitude. Somehow, they were going to be all right.

[OOC: Preplayed with seekstruth and icecoldfrost. NFB and NFI due to distance. OOC welcome.].