Author's Note: Okay a few things. One, I'm an idiot and just realized I forgot to post this update. I apologize. I think this is the longest chapter so far though. Anyway two, I decided to go back and change some of the encounter with Taliesen (and Master Ignacio) in chapter 18. I felt like it needed more from Zev's POV. And three, my PS3 is not working. Hopefully I can get it fixed, or I will have to save up for a new one. This means that until then, I cannot do what I have been doing, which is playing through and then writing this fic as I go along. I should still be able to write regularly, and I do have scenes up until the Landsmeet documented, but it might cause a problem for me. We'll see. We're nearing the end now.
By the way (and if you are still reading this author's note at this point, bless you), I don't normally outright ask for reviews, but this chapter is particularly important to me. Shiannia has a small, but impressive, character arc in the game and I plan to explore it (and it will enfold more so in the sequel I have planned than in this fic). So if you are of a mind to, please let me know how I did. I appreciate it.
Chapter Rating: M for violence and gore
Warnings: Slavery, depictions of rape-related trauma. I would call it mild, but I don't want to assume when it comes to potentially triggering content.
Pairing: Zevran/(M)Tabris
Chapter 21
Elves at the Mercy of Men
Lecherous laughter sent shivers down her spine while clammy hands painted bruises under her dress with their rough hold. Vaughan's face she could clearly see. Though everything else became a quick blur, his face was always burned into her mind. His disgusting words drilled into her head.
Knife-ears!
Slut!
Whore!
Each one brought more tears. Suddenly she felt too many hands in too many places, covering her mouth, invading her body, and holding her down. She couldn't move, trapped with force and cruelty. And the screaming… the screaming was so loud…
Shianni woke with a start, realizing it was her own screams she heard. Finding that the pressure pinning her body down was gone, she shot up from the thin mattress with heaving breaths and cold sweat dotting her skin.
Seeing a figure standing in the middle of the room, her mouth suddenly snapped shut, embarrassed at herself. It was Soris, of course. Who else? He stood with an armful of splintered firewood, his eyes wide and helpless as he stared at her.
Shianni looked away, tucking sweat-streaked hair behind her ears and getting out of bed. She'd pretend like nothing had happened so her cousin would not have to stumble his way around an awkward attempt at comforting her. Soris never knew how to react to her nightmares, though she hadn't had any that bad in a few months now. And she didn't want a hug or a pat on the shoulder. There was a pit of anger within that boiled just below the surface whenever anyone looked at her the way Soris just had. She'd meant it when she told Niko that she didn't want anyone to look at her any differently. But Soris had been there that day, had come to the rescue alongside Niko. He knew what happened. So what must he see when he looked at her now? She shuddered at the thought.
Avoiding eye contact, her eyes fell on the small stack of boards and sticks in Soris's arms as she brushed by. "Is that all you could get?"
Soris nodded wordlessly and set the wood he'd collected down with their uncle's dwindling supply in the corner by the fireplace.
"I'll get more later," he told her, staring at the floorboards with shame. "...This was all I was able to collect before some guys ran me off."
Shianni's lips pursed together as she looked at him. After the purge, things had changed drastically around the Alienage. Of the few houses that were burnt in the chaos, only fractured scraps remained, former homes gutted and blackened with only charred leftovers. That's where a lot of elves were getting their firewood these days. Soris hadn't been run off for that, Shianni knew. He'd been run off because he wasn't exactly popular around here since the purge. He had been a hero for a few days following the rescue from the Arl's castle. The elves praised his and Niko's names.
But then the purge came by order of the new Arl of Denerim; punishment for what happened to Vaughan and the palace full of guards. Since Niko wasn't around to take any of the blame, Soris had to bear it all. And he wasn't equipped for it the way their cousin would have been if he were here.
Shianni remembered the first day the soldiers had come. The gates were shut and anyone standing gawking in the street were the first ones cut down. No warning. At the time, Shianni had been in the apartment she shared with her brother, Mathon, and his wife and heard the shouting and crying from the second floor. Huddled with her sister-in-law in the corner of the room, they screamed when the door busted in. Thankfully, it had only been Mathon. But the look of frantic terror in her brother's eyes as he barred the door shut with all the furniture in the apartment scared Shianni to the core.
There had been rioting, a few groups of elves taking up whatever weapons they could find and attacking the human soldiers. They were all cut down, and that's when the posters went up; "Bearing arms is strictly prohibited: Elves who have swords will die upon them."
There was still some resistance, but all that came to an end when the soldiers did the worst thing they could think of. In the middle of the night, they raided the orphanage. The cries of children and slaughter woke the whole alienage that night. Morning found many elves, including the Hahren, weeping openly in the streets. It had utterly broken them, draining the Alienage of hope.
With a tired sigh, Shianni took the pot of water off the fire and poured it into the tub for herself. Soris left then, probably to get more wood or to check Uncle Cyrion's garden. Not knowing how long he'd be gone, Shianni drew the tattered privacy curtain before she stripped for a bath. The water was shallow, but it was the best she could do for now. Summer was fast approaching with the possibility of droughts, and they needed to ration their water supply in case the gates were not open any time soon.
As she scrubbed the sweat still clinging to her skin, she thought she should probably count herself lucky that she hadn't lost any family to the purge, as it was not something everyone around here could say. But it was hard to feel lucky now with her Uncle Cyrion gone. And Valendrian. Not to mention Niko…
She shut her eyes against the threat of tears, thinking about the funeral they'd held for him just months ago. Sometimes that felt like the biggest injustice of all. Her cousin had been given the opportunity to make something amazing out of his life. He'd made it out of the slums and into a prestigious order of warriors. It was perfect for him. He was going to be a hero and a legend just like she'd always imagined him. Travelling the country, slaying monsters, and saving people… With that fire in his eyes... She still remembered that look; that valiant image of him had roused hope within her at the darkest, most awful moment of her life. Those first few weeks after Niko was gone were rough, especially on her uncle Cyrion. Shianni found herself spending a lot of time here at his home to keep him company, and to get her mind off of her own pain. Reminding themselves that Niko was on to big things gave them hope and kept them smiling through all the changes.
"Next time we see him, he'll be riding a griffon through Denerim," Shianni had said over dinner one night, earning a lot of smiles and laughter.
But then the news of Ostagar hit the alienage; the darkspawn had completely decimated the army in a hopeless battle. The King and the Grey Wardens were dead.
Shianni had cried silent, bitter tears, but the look on her uncle's face had stunned her. Seeing all hope completely drop from one man's eyes… it made her wonder what was the point of going on.
Valendrian held a funeral in front of the vhenadahl just for Niko. Alarith had supplied candles and floral arrangements. Some of the flowers still lay scattered near the base of the tree, trampled into the dirt or singed in the purging fires. Shianni had saved one from that fate. It was pressed into her favorite book sitting on one of Cyrion's shelves; Adventures of the Black Fox by Gaston Gerrault. It was probably one of the more valuable books Cyrion owned and had been one of Niko's favorites as well. He never liked to read anything himself, Shianni remembered. Not that he didn't know how; Valendrian tried to teach as many of the children how to read as he could. But her cousin preferred having someone read to him like Adaia had when he was little. Sometimes, as teenagers, when it was too cold or rainy outside to play, they had sat by the fire in Niko's house – Soris too – and just took turns reading to each other.
These memories brought a fond smile to her face, but it faded fast. Nothing good ever lasted. She'd learned that all too well. As lucky as she'd been not to lose any family to the purge, she now had something new to worry about and it had already claimed her uncle and the Hahren.
The Tevinter mages had shown up not too long after they got the news about Ostagar. First refugees spilled in to the city and then some people started getting sick. It wasn't a huge problem; there was often an infection or some other sickness going around the alienage. At the time, a lot of people were more concerned about the locked gates. Some kin had been locked out. And no one inside was able to get to their jobs or trade supplies outside the alienage easily. Thankfully they had a community garden for those without their own, but it didn't keep every single elf from going hungry. Times were tougher than usual, and the sickness going around was just one more problem. But then those mages swooped in with their "selfless aid". Shianni didn't trust them one bit. Humans never helped them out of the goodness of their hearts. But people were lining up to receive their bullshit anyway. And people were still getting sick and passing out in the streets despite the magical intervention.
Her inner rage stirred just at the thought of them. Quickly, she washed her hair so she could get out before the water got too cold. By the time she was dressed and putting her usual ties in her hair, Soris had returned with some wilted cabbages and other vegetables. The garden wasn't doing so well, especially without Cyrion's special touch.
"Where are you going?" Soris asked, watching her head for the door.
"To check on my brother," she half-lied. Opening the door to leave, she paused and looked back at him as he set the vegetables on the table. "Make sure you clean up after yourself this time."
Soris scoffed at her, but with only half the heart he used to put into it. "I know, Shianni."
The two of them had been helping take care of the house for Cyrion ever since Niko's funeral. Shianni was pretty sure her uncle had only allowed it because he really needed the company. But now that Cyrion was in the hospice quarantine by the Tevinter mages – or so they claimed – she supposed that she and Soris would basically be house-sitting for him; keeping out the looters and attempting to keep it as clean as their uncle always did. She hoped someone was doing the same for Valendrian. He'd been quarantined a few days before Cyrion.
Giving her cousin a nod, Shianni closed the door behind herself and stepped out into a warm spring morning. It wouldn't be long until that sweltering summer heat came down on them once again. It would be nearly a whole year since… well since everything happened. Everything that started it all; that horrible day that was almost a wedding.
Pushing that thought away, she focused on keeping her eyes straight ahead instead of on the ground. Her brother's apartment was on the other side of the alienage. He lived there with his wife – one of Valendrian's matches, since their parents were dead – a sweet girl from the Gwaren alienage that he'd married almost two years ago. It had been a nice, simple wedding and it was also the first time Shianni had ever snuck a taste of booze. A fond memory. The apartment she'd shared alone with Mathon for years was suddenly home to one more. To give them some privacy, Shianni had ended up spending a lot of nights at her Uncle Cyrion's house, utilizing the top bunk above Niko's bed. Yet Mathon and his wife still hadn't had any children, something the couple was occasionally ribbed for by the other married couples. It was probably a good thing though, Shianni thought as she kept to herself along a muck-covered cobblestone path. As much as she would have loved being an aunt, she was grateful her brother and his wife didn't have children to worry over right now. Not with everything going on here.
She had only been half-lying when she told Soris that she was going to see her brother. She did intend to go check on him, but not before she checked on the hospice. If there was a chance she could see her uncle, or the hahren, or save someone else from disappearing inside the hospice… then it was worth coming out here every day like she did.
The size of the crowd was appalling; almost twice as many people gathered outside as there had been yesterday. Crossing her arms and standing out of the way, her glare settled on the tan mage with the neatly-trimmed beard in front of the door. He was one of the men who had "escorted" Valendrian in to the hospice when he obviously didn't need it.
Well it was obvious to her at least. Everyone else was fine with trusting a bunch of strange shems and lining up to take whatever was given to them.
"I don't want to get sick," one man a little older than her complained in a pathetic tone.
Shianni shook her head. "If you're really so worried about this plague, go home," she tried to reason, using as much patience as she could muster. "Crowding around here is what will make you sick."
She was ignored, as she often was. At the head of the crowd, a young woman stepped forward to receive the mage's aid. He waved his hand over her, saying a quiet little chant.
Shianni huffed a mirthless laugh, rolling her eyes. "How do you even know they're working magic?" she challenged, louder. "They could be chanting gibberish! It's not as if you'd ever know!"
She received a few glares and scoffs, only prompting her to more indignation and anger. She was desperate to do something, anything that might help. Someone had to.
"How can you even be here?" Shianni demanded of the crowd, stepping forward. "How many of our brothers and sisters and children have these men already taken?"
And uncles, she thought to herself.
Again she was ignored. Like a crazy person or the town idiot that no one wanted to be associated with, the only response she received was the crowd subtly stepping away from her. Her own people.
'But what even am I to them?' She thought bitterly. 'Still just a child!'
A pale woman, who had sunken cheeks that made her look older than she actually was, spoke up with helpless exasperation. "I've got children at home. I can't wait out here for another day!"
Shianni pounced on the opportunity, stepping up to the crowd once again. "So go home! The best thing you can do for your children is not trust these charlatans!"
Several people turned to look at her now, including the mage at the door, though he addressed the crowd instead.
"Everyone remain calm," he told them. "We will help as many as we can today, so long as we can do this in an orderly fashion."
"Oh you're 'helping' us, are you shem?" Shianni shouted at him, her righteous anger rising, along with her pain. "Like Valendrian and my Uncle Cyrion, you helped them, didn't you? Helped them never to be seen again!"
The mage's eyes, full of exhausted annoyance, settled on her as he sighed. "We've explained this to you before, girl. More whining will not persuade us to let you into the quarantine to carry plague back out to the Alienage."
Shianni opened her mouth to curse him out, but an elf standing on the edge of the crowd turned and glared at her. "Quit trying to get us all killed, Shianni! Some of us have still got things to live for."
That insult cut deeper than anyone would know. There were plenty of times recently where Shianni had questioned whether there was anything left for her to live for. Right after the almost-wedding, she'd shut herself off, wallowing in shame and self-loathing. She hadn't been able see a future for herself anymore; nothing bright and happy to look forward to. Then the guards came and there was too much chaos and too much danger to flounder anymore. She'd had to pick herself up and carry on because there was no other choice. A lot of people had lost everything and the alienage was failing. There was a lot of lost hope...
She let the slight go and focused on what she was here for right now. "If this spell of theirs works, why are half the people they quarantine perfectly healthy?" she challenged.
"Shianni? Is that really you?"
She froze, that familiar voice suddenly flipping the world upside down… or maybe righted it a bit.
Wondering if she was dreaming, she turned around to see her cousin walking up to her, clad in expensive leather armor and carrying a sword longer than his arm… like something out of the fairytale books they used to read as kids. He was slightly bigger and stronger looking, and still walked with the fearlessness and confidence she had always seen in him.
"I don't believe it," she said, feeling the grin taking over her face though her voice shook. Niko's expression mirrored her own.
She really didn't believe it at first. The boy she grew up with, looked up to all her life, was supposed to be dead. But here he was… bigger and better than ever it seemed.
For the first time in a long time, Shianni felt a surge of great hope.
-o-o-o-
"Maker's breath!" Shianni exclaimed as the truth of his presence really set in. "They said all the Grey Wardens died with the king. Everyone thought…" The grin dropped from her face. "Valendrian even held a funeral for you."
Niko's eyebrows rose in surprise, his smile disappearing as well. Being so concerned about their welfare all these long months, he hadn't considered that they might have presumed him to be dead.
"Cousin, you have no idea… the things that happened after your wedding…"
Oh yes, that…
Niko froze because, behind him, he could practically feel his companions' collective surprise, and their sudden, questioning stares pounding on his back.
Shianni noticed and it gave her pause, unsure what the heavy silence stemmed from. "I'm babbling, aren't I?" She grinned again at her cousin, stepping forward for a brief but tender hug. "I'm so happy to see you!"
Niko smiled at her, genuine relief and love in his eyes when they parted.
"A wedding?" Zevran spoke up, staring at his lover. "So there is a secretive side to you after all…"
Though he was trying to make light of it, Niko had caught the hint of disappointment in the assassin's tone. It surprised him, actually, that this might bother Zevran. Though, if he thought about it, if Zevran has said he'd been planning to marry Rinna or someone else before they'd met, it probably would have bothered him too. But it wasn't like he had wanted to get married in the first place.
He crossed his arms. "It wasn't my idea," he told them.
"Still, you never told me you were betrothed," Alistair said, both somewhat amused and surprised that Niko never shared this with him. "What happened?"
Niko shook his head. He hadn't even meant it to be a secret really. There just seemed to be no good reason to bring it up, considering that it had turned into a tale of vengeance and violence rather than romance or celebration. And he had told them the violent, vengeful part. "Imagine a storybook wedding," he said, turning to look at Alistair. "This was the opposite."
Zevran nodded, seeming to understand. "At least we can be sure you looked stunning for the occasion."
Shianni was glancing between them with a questioning look. But she let the thought pass for now, her tired gaze settling on Niko. "So much has happened… It's good you're home."
Niko glanced around the crowd, surprised the Hahren wasn't around. "Where is Valendrian?" He asked. The fact that he wasn't here to quell this disorder didn't bode well.
Shianni frowned, wringing her pale hands nervously. "He's… well, that's something I want to talk to you about, actually." She gestured to the head of the crowd, her expression turning angry. "They took him! These Tevinters took him into that house days ago, and no one's seen him since! They said he had the plague. But he didn't, Cousin," she said, her eyes desperately pleading with him to believe her. "He was healthy as a war hound. And now they've got him, and won't let anyone see him."
Her accusations had caught some attention again. The same guy who had been arguing with Shianni when Niko had first spotted her turned to them.
"They're educated men, Shianni; they'd know if he had the plague. And it's not as if Valendrian would make a show of illness even if he were on his deathbed."
Niko's eyes slanted at the guy – it was Efram or Elkan or something like that – but didn't say anything to him. Niko remembered that he'd worked for one of the nobles, but that was about all he knew about him. He made a good point about Valendrian being stubborn, but he put too much faith in these foreigners.
"Just because they're educated, doesn't mean they're trustworthy," Niko said, looking to Shianni again. "What about my father? He's in there, too, isn't he? Soris told me they'd taken him in."
"The Tevinters quarantined your father yesterday," she told him sadly. "I told him not to go to the hospice! Not one elf they've taken in there has come out again. Who knows what's become of them?"
"How long has this quarantine been going on?" Niko asked, glancing around at the crowd, some of them coughing and others complaining.
"Since the army fell at Ostagar," Shianni informed. "People came here fleeing the darkspawn, bringing Blight sickness with them. After the refugees arrived, people here got sick. And these Tevinter vultures began circling, taking people out of the Alienage a few at a time."
"Well, what can the Tevinters do about a plague?" Niko wondered aloud. The Tevinter Imperium was largely a mystery to Niko and most other elves here, but one thing he did know was that his friend Alarith had been a slave there. And from Alarith, he'd learned that not only was slavery legal in Tevinter, it was common and expected. That was enough to make Niko wary of the country and humans from there.
"They say the sickness spreading here is a Blight disease that they saw in the imperium ages ago. Magic can't just make it go away, but it can keep you from getting it, if you're healthy," Shianni explained, narrow eyes full of suspicion. "So every day new people line up to be magicked. And every day, the Tevinters pull someone out of the line and take them to quarantine."
Niko gave her a nod. "All right, I'm going to have a look inside this hospice."
At his self-confident words, she smiled, her shoulders relaxing as if a heavy burden had been lifted from them. "I knew you'd do something, Cousin! Maker watch over you."
"Is there any other way into the hospice?" he asked her, his eyes subtly grazing the north building.
"I'd try the side entrance in the alley," she advised. "There's only one guard, and no crowd watching."
Niko smirked a little. Of course she had scouted the building, maybe even tried to make a plan to break in herself. He was proud of her, though still glad she hadn't attempted to do it. "I'll be back," he told her, moving past with his group tagging right along.
She turned to watch him go. "Just be careful."
He glanced back over his shoulder, giving her a wink.
"Your cousin seems…" Alistair squinted, as if the word he searched for was in front of him somewhere. "…Spirited."
"Much like you," Wynne added with a chuckle, side-glancing at Niko.
He smiled fondly. "She is."
"Wasn't she the one that we saw before?" Alistair asked hesitantly. "When we were looking for Andraste's ashes?"
He nodded. "That was her."
There was a short silence among them before Zevran spoke up.
"She looks nothing like you, to be honest… Except for the ears."
All four of them gave a curt laugh.
"I look more like my mother," Niko explained, smiling.
They came upon a side door guarded by the cleanest, most polished, and nicely-armored elf Niko had ever seen.
"No, you can't go inside 'just for a moment', so you might as well walk right back around to the front doors," he told them, almost bored. Or maybe indifferent. "You shouldn't be out on the streets now anyway, what with the plague."
Yes it was indifference than defined him, Niko thought. He had to be to turn a blind eye to what was going on here. Because it was nothing good; the Warden needed no evidence to understand that.
He knew he could probably bribe this guy to walk away, but that would risk him tipping off the mages out front. Besides… he couldn't help noticing how this alley led right into the apartments behind the hospice…
"All right, we'll go," he told the elven guard, passing him by.
"You do that."
He didn't seem to care enough to watch where the party was headed, so Niko led them right to the apartment door. The first hallway it opened up into was narrow, not even wide enough for more than two of them to pass through at once. Like most structures in the alienage, this one was in ill shape with rough wooden beams and cracked walls. It smelled too; like rubbish and unwashed bodies.
It was oddly quiet for a building that was supposed to be housing more elves than it should. Though from the first door on the right, Niko could hear heavy coughing inside from one of the tenants. They turned the corner into an even narrower hall, spotting someone at the end, looting through what looked to be a pile of garbage.
As they approached, the startled man whipped around with panic in his eyes. "Who's there?" He asked, his voice raw and strained with fright. "Stay away!"
"Calm down," Niko told him. "Where are all the people who lived in this building?"
"I don't know," he murmured, leaning nervously away from them. "You gotta ask someone else."
"Would some coin change your mind?" Niko offered as he reached into his coin-purse. He'd already given a sovereign to a poor elf posing as a wounded veteran near his father's house. No one in the group had objected, and they weren't objecting now either.
"All right…" The man wiped a grimy hand on his already soiled shirt and accepted a few silvers from Niko. Though even the gift of so much coin didn't release the dark grip of fear in his tone. "I saw them take everyone. Took them right out of their beds. Dragged them down the hallways. Maker," he gasped, tears springing from bloodshot eyes. "The little ones crying!"
Stunned silence fell over his group, and Niko gulped down a feeling of dread thick in his throat. "Have you seen my father? Cyrion. He's an older man."
The frightened elf nodded. "They took him through here yesterday. Looked like a dead man."
No…
Anger and distress clouded Niko's mind. His fist clenching, he tried to get a hold of himself but his words still came out shaky. "What about Valendrian?"
"I saw him," the man told him solemnly. "They marched him through the hall with a bunch of others. All tied together like pack mules."
"What else have you seen?"
"Every few days they come back. It's like a parade, a silent one. Men and women and children…"
Niko felt like he'd been stabbed in the gut, his insides rotted with disgust and horror. It made him sick.
People he'd known his whole life… men he'd worked beside… children he'd held as babies and told tales to… Valendrian and his father… they all walked with anguished steps through his mind's eye... A vision of his people, the vibrancy bled from them, chained and paraded into the darkness of stolen freedom…
He didn't mean to frighten the man further with his next question, but he couldn't quell his urgency. "Where did they take everyone?"
"Through the landlord's old office," he squeaked. "They go in there, they never come back." He looked around frantically. "You have to go. They'll be back soon. They'll find out I talked, and they'll take me too!" Shaking with fear, he cowered into the corner, pleading, "Please, just go!"
With a stride of determination, Niko turned swiftly back around to take his party through the next hallway. He didn't know where the landlord's office was exactly, but he knew it was on the main floor.
The first door he tried took them into an apartment.
Someone's home.
It was empty, yet it felt like he was intruding. As if ghosts remained, he felt a presence here. Perhaps because the table was set, the chairs arranged for a family that never made it to dinner. In the middle of the room, some kind of wooden furnishing laid in broken pieces.
Niko stepped further into the room, a heaviness settling on him as eerie as the silence that surrounded him. Spotting something near the bed tucked into a corner of the room, the Warden barely noticed his companions following him into the apartment. Kneeling down to see the object, it was so tarnished he couldn't be sure what it was until he picked it up.
A doll.
Some flimsy thing without enough stuffing. A child's hand-stitched toy, patched many times over and full of stains. Each blemish surely held a memory. Grass stains, dirt marks, food spills… the marks of a child's companion, loved and cherished.
The child probably dropped it in all the chaos.
Feeling like he'd had the wind knocked out of him, it was a good thing Niko was already on his knees. He shut his eyes, squeezing the abandoned doll tight in his gloved hand.
As miserable as life in the Alienage seemed to everyone, the one thing you could always count on seeing was children running around outside, smiling without a care, chasing each other and climbing trees and toting their handmade toys around. Because children didn't really worry about how poor they were or if a human was going to decide to hurt or kill them the next day. Because they had toys and sunshine and friends and space to run. That's what they were supposed to have.
This child won't have that freedom anymore.
Facing away from his friends, Niko's eyes brimmed with silent tears. He was unable to get to his feet, crippled by the thought of a smiling, happy child soon ripped, crying, from her bed in the middle of the night.
Someone was suddenly kneeling down beside him, an arm wrapping securely around his shoulder.
"Dry your eyes, my dear," Zevran whispered softly, discreetly placing a handkerchief in Niko's hand. There was steel in the assassin's eyes as Niko lifted a woeful gaze at him. "We will get them."
While Zevran stood, the Warden quickly dabbed at the tears in his eyes. He slipped the handkerchief into one of his pockets when he stood again. Wynne and Alistair were kind enough not to say anything as Niko led the way out of the room.
They found signs of struggle in other rooms; boot prints and blood stains on splintered, uneven floor boards and a broken vase with hair and dried blood stuck on the sharp edges.
In the last hallway on this floor, there were two remaining doors to check; one on the right side and one that looked like an exit door. There was definitely movement and whispers coming from the one on the right.
Shoving the door open, they were met with the same elven guard from the side entrance.
"A nosy one, aren't you?" The elf sneered. "We'll fix that."
Right as Niko aimed a fierce swipe at him, he sounded the alarm and five more men came in. He wasn't able to fully escape Niko's dagger though; the blade sliced off half his ear.
The elf screamed, blood gushing from the side of his head and dripping onto the roughhewn floors. The trauma seemed to be all that was needed to disarm him. Niko's sword found an easy path right through the elven guard's neck, blood gushing forth like a waterfall over his shining, immaculate armor.
Niko turned to aid his party, who were engaged with the five others. The ice blasts from Wynne's staff slowed them down. And in these closed quarters, it was a quick battle.
With bleeding bodies littering the floor, Niko took a look around. There were bunk beds on the left side of the room, along with two bedrolls and a storage chest. A wash basin, a fire place, some more bedding, and a few sacks were on the other side of the room. A barrel full of weapons sat near the door. Right in the middle of the room was a table holding a lit candle and some papers.
While Niko checked the notes sitting on the table, the others looted the bodies for coin.
"This may be a headquarters of some type?" Alistair suggested, yanking a coin-purse off of one of the corpses.
"Possibly," Niko murmured, his eyes narrowed on the note he held in his hand. "Bring eight males and six females for the next shipment," he read aloud.
Wynne and Alistair glanced over to him.
"Slave trade," Wynne whispered gravely, her brow creasing with anger and disgust.
"I suspected," Niko huffed, folding the note up and tucking it into a pocket. He grabbed a key from the table, too, before turning to leave.
The other door did lead them back outside; a little area behind and in between other buildings where a sewage pipe spilled dirty water into a big puddle on the ground.
Their presence did not go unnoticed, however. They were approached by a few men, all bearing the same yellow and red symbol on their shields.
"What's this?" One of the men turned to them in confusion. "Another shipment already? We weren't- Wait…" His eyes narrowed. "You're no Tevinter. Who are you supposed to be?"
Eyes piercing sharply on them, the Warden reached for his blades. He knew he looked dangerous. "I'm looking for some missing elves."
"Quick, get them! Hurry!" The man gasped, stepping back as he pulled his own sword out. He raised his shield just in time to block Niko's heavy sword and dagger both coming down on him. The hit staggered him, knocking him slightly off balance, but he recovered in time to block another swipe. The men behind him came at Niko's party with their swords drawn.
Zevran easily side-stepped one man, tripping him, then drove daggers down into his back.
One down.
-o-o-o-
It seemed to be one battle after another once they were in the next building; a warehouse. It was perfect for the operation they had going here. The Alienage was right next to the docks, so they would be able to move "shipments" and get them out to Tevinter without being noticed.
They quickly realized that it wasn't just Tevinters involved in this though.
"Believe it or not, we have been given dispensation to do our business here," one of the slavers had told them.
She'd been yet another elf involved in selling her own kind for profit. It only reinforced the ideas Niko's mother had instilled in him; there are all kinds of humans, good ones and bad. Just as there are all kinds of elves.
It was their actions that defined them.
The deeper they went into the warehouse, the more prepared the people inside were for battle. The lower area held a tripwire at the bottom of the stairs, which Niko disabled, but only by putting himself in the line of fire from the men on the other side first.
The room after that had to be the main sleeping quarters for all these slavers. It was filled with bunk beds – and also a small army.
When they were surrounded by fallen enemies, the party took a moment to catch their breath.
"I'm pretty sure we didn't miss any rooms," Alistair said, leaning against one of the rickety bunks.
"Good," Niko responded tersely, pacing the room. "Not one slaver leaves here alive."
There was no arguing that, not even if any of them were inclined to.
There were two doors, one on each end of the long room. When they were ready, Niko chose the one on the left, not knowing that they actually led to the same room. It brought them out onto the upper tier of a large room.
Like most warehouses, it was filled with barrels and crates. Unlike most warehouses, it was also filled with cages full of elves.
Looking down to the lower floor, Niko's hard eyes met a curious looking man, bald and bearded, standing in the middle of the room, dressed in red and orange robes with feather pauldrons.
He took notice of their entrance, but seemed unafraid. "I am Caladrius," he greeted with fake cordiality. "And you, I assume, must be the Grey Warden I've heard so much about."
"I don't care who you are," Niko said, keeping his eyes on Caladrius. "You're going to die."
"Are you sure you wish to commit such a rash action, Grey Warden?" the Tevinter mage asked calmly, like he had something on him. "Look around you."
His small squadron of men drew their weapons and surrounded Caladrius like a defensive wall on all sides, their tactical gazes set on Niko and his companions.
Caladrius smiled, a twisted show of malevolence and pride. "Surely we can reach some kind of… compromise?"
Niko wasn't intimidated. "That's not going to happen."
"Pity," Caladrius sighed. "It looks as if we shall have to settle this the hard way, then. My apologies."
There was only one set of stairs leading down onto Caladrius's level and two of his men were already running up, crossbows ready.
Leading a charge against them, Niko knocked a bolt away with his dagger and drove his longsword into the first man's throat. The heavy bash of Alistair shield hurled the second man back down the steps. His longsword finished the job.
Caladrius looked furious when they reached his level, especially as Niko ducked his men and closed in on him. Alistair and Zevran dealt with Caladrius's men so Niko could focus on the Tevinter mage, while Wynne provided support from a safe distance.
An invisible pulse threw Niko back from the mage, stumbling him, but he pushed against it. He got close, and Caladrius gasped as Niko's sword grazed his shoulder, feathers fluttering away from his pauldrons like a startled bird.
An arcane shield enveloped Caladrius, and Niko's blades glanced off. Raising his staff, the mage shouted, "A blood sacrifice! For power!"
Niko didn't see it happen. But he heard it… tearing and splattering… He didn't know what it was exactly, but it sounded like the watermelon he'd burst open with a mallet last summer; an explosion of juices and chunks. He turned and saw gore splattering the place where a man once stood, a broken crossbow on the ground. Alistair staggered from the spot, stunned and covered in blood.
The moment Niko realized that Caladrius had just annihilated one of his own men for power, he turned just in time to get stuck with a cold spell. Feeling like he'd just been hit with a giant snowball, he did his best to ignore the ice in his veins and swung his sword at Caladrius. The mage dodged the sharp blade, dancing far to the side. A crackle of power surged through his staff when he struck the floor with its end, evoking a rush of telekinetic force around Niko. He yelled out in pain, his weapons clattering to the floor as he was bent backwards from a crushing might.
It was if his body was being pressured on all sides, rendering him unable to move. He was so vulnerable…
But Zevran and Alistair must have been keeping Caladrius and his men at bay. Soon, Niko felt a comforting warmth spread over him, the pain lessening, and he knew it was Wynne aiding him. The crushing prison soon released him, and Niko scanned the field. That was when he really took notice of the cage in the corner of the room, and his eyes landed on his father's for the first time in almost a year.
Cyrion's mouth was parted in shock, his eyes wide. He was skinnier and paler than the last time Niko had seen him. He clung to the bars so he could gaze through, the panic in his eyes louder to Niko than all the clamoring of the other elves stuffed in the cage with him. Even louder than the battle going on all around him too.
A painful chill rattled Niko's spine, and he turned on Caladrius with renewed vigor. Picking up his weapons, he rushed the mage, who hurried a spell of fire to blast at the elven Warden. But Wynne's defensive spells covered Niko, and the fire didn't blaze quite so hot. Caladrius's eyes widened as Niko sprinted through the flames with his sword raised high. He tried to step away from the blow, but the blade slashed a bloody path down his torso.
In pain and desperation, Caladrius lifted his staff once more, the body of his last henchman exploding in a fountain of gore. Zevran ducked, managing to avoid the entrails that flew over his head but not the spray of blood. The sacrifice healed Caladrius's wound, the tarnished gash in his robe the only remaining sign that he'd ever been harmed.
It was a terrible tactical move though. No sooner did he raise his staff for a devastating spell did they all close in on him, blades sharp and shining.
"Enough! Enough!" He shouted, dropping to one knee in submission. To his great relief, they stopped their charge. The elven Grey Warden was the only one to approach him, slowly, with his blades hanging from his hands at his sides. "It… seems your reputation is an accurate one," Caladrius stammered, sweat beading his brow as he looked up at Niko. "I surrender."
"Surrender?" Niko glared down at him, his lip curling in a nasty snarl as he leaned in closer. "I don't think so."
"Wait! Hear me out, kind ser!" the mage pleaded. "Were I to… use the life force of the remaining slaves here, I could… augment your physical health a great deal!" The Warden's face suddenly went blank and Caladrius's heart hammered in his chest with hope. "Allow me to leave this place alive and I would be more than happy to do this little service for you."
Niko's eyes remained unblinking, but Caladrius saw the twitching clench in the elf's jaw and realized the offer hadn't appealed to him like he had hoped. He was saved from Niko's sudden wrath only by the indignation of the wizened mage beside him.
"'Little service'? He is talking of blood magic. Surely you-"
"No," Niko cut her off, his glare never leaving Caladrius "I'd never. I would never consider it."
"Most wise," Wynne murmured.
Caladrius frowned. "Then… I don't suppose you would consider just letting me go?"
It wasn't the blood magic. Yeah, blowing up your own allies for the sake of power was nuts, but it was completely beside the point. His father was in that cage over there. Those were his family and neighbors. Not only that, but there were those he had been too late to save… Again.
He would avenge them. It was all he could do.
"No," he told Caladrius, taking a step back. "I don't suppose I would."
"Ah. Well," the mage said darkly, slowly getting to his feet. "That is a shame, isn't it?"
On his feet, he sent a powerful blast rippling through the party.
Niko slammed into a wall, his head swimming as he looked around for Alistair and Wynne. They were dizzied too, but he pointed them towards the cage full of elves. "Protect them!"
They obeyed, backing towards the cage to do what they could to ward off Caladrius's blood magic. Wynne began building a large arcane shield around the elves while Alistair put his Templar skills to use to ward off enemy magic. If Caladrius wanted a blood sacrifice, he'd have to bleed for it himself.
Niko and Zevran looked to each other, giving encouraging nods. They could do this, the two of them.
As with Keeper Zathrian, Caladrius's blood-fueled spells tried to eat away at Niko and Zevran from the inside out. Their hearts pounded as blood rushed through their veins with too much heat. He was trying to control them, to use their blood for his magic, but he was met with too much resistance. There was fear in Caladrius's eyes as he ran from the elves' blades. Zevran cut him off, grinning with a smatter of blood across his face as he raised both sword and dagger for an assault. Caladrius turned tail from the menacing assassin and ran…
Right into Niko's blade.
Blood spilled from the slaver's mouth with a gurgled cry, and he fell to the floor as the Warden withdrew his sword. As satisfying as the kill had felt, Niko knew it was a bittersweet victory as he looked down at Caladrius's corpse and the blood pooling beneath him. There was nothing to celebrate here. They'd killed all the slavers they could and saved many, but that wouldn't bring back the elves who were already taken. They were well on their way to Tevinter now, out of his reach.
Niko turned to see that the wall of magic Wynne had built around the elves was slowly dissipating now that the fight was over. Beyond the scattering blue wave of protective magic stood Niko's father, staring through the cage at his son. He didn't look as bad as Niko had anticipated. Tired, pale, and thinner than before, yes, but he still looked like Cyrion. He would be okay…
Alistair unlocked the cage and the elves inside scrambled to get out. One woman clutching a scared child had tears streaming down her face as she squeaked out a "thank you" and limped away.
"Son, is it really you?"
That familiar, gentle voice melted the iron Niko had felt gripping his heart in a vice. Tears sprang to the corners of his eyes. His father was alive. His family was okay.
"When they said all the Grey Wardens died at Ostagar, I prayed they were wrong." Cyrion took a step forward, has hands clasping Niko's arms. His touch was hesitant at first, afraid he was facing an apparition or a dream, but then he gripped his son tight, knowing it was truly him. "Are you alright? What are you doing here?"
"I couldn't let them hurt my family."
A tender smile warmed Cyrion's face. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You're so much like your mother."
Niko smiled too, but a nagging fear in the pit of his gut ruined the moment. "Where's Valendrian?" he asked, though he was afraid he already knew the answer.
"They took him on the ships yesterday," Cyrion explained, his whole body sagging with the weight of that knowledge on his shoulders. "He's probably halfway to Tevinter by now."
They both knew that the loss of their Hahren would be a difficult wound to recover from. All this chaos, death, sickness, and violence… and now the Alienage would flounder without Valendrian's gentle guidance.
Niko exhaled sharply, as if he'd been punched. That man was his teacher, his friend, his family, and Niko wasn't ready to accept such a fate for him. There was nothing he could do about it at the moment though. "Are you all right?" He asked his father.
Cyrion sighed. He sounded tired. "I could be worse. I could be on an auction block in Minrathous right now."
Wincing at the thought, Niko turned and, for the first time, got a good look at the war-torn room. Corpses with eyes glazed over littered the blood-stained floors while gore painted the walls. He didn't want his father in this place.
"You'd better get away from here, father," Niko told him. "We can talk later, okay?"
"Come to the house," Cyrion told him first. "There's something I should give you…"
Niko blinked at him, wanting to ask what it was, but he let him go, only nodding in assurance that he would come. Nothing could possibly keep him from going home.
Once Cyrion was gone, Niko sighed heavily, slumping against the wall.
"Are you alright?" Wynne asked him with concern.
He opened his mouth to answer 'yes', but paused when he saw all of his companions looking at him with the same worried expressions.
"I'm…. I'm just glad my father is alive." Unsure if that answer was good enough, Niko stood again, straightening himself. "Come on. Let's go."
He led the way out, back out into the warmth of spring, the midday sun high in the sky above the walls of the Alienage. A crowd was still gathered in the Square and people were running back and forth from houses. The news of what had really been going on was spreading…
Niko turned to see that Shianni was waiting outside the "hospice" building still. She was smiling as he approached her alone, equal parts relief and pride on her face.
"Cousin, you're amazing," she said, and then her eyes narrowed teasingly at him. "Which I shouldn't tell you to your face, because it'll go to your head. But it's true. Are you sticking around for a while?" She asked, going on before Niko could even respond. "You're staying for dinner aren't you? You'd better. I'll weasel a bottle of wine from Alarith and we can catch up."
Nearly thrown by her cheerfulness following all this horror, Niko gave a breathless laugh. "How did I know you'd make this an excuse to get drunk?"
She laughed, open mouthed and eyes scrunched at the corners. It was genuine and happy, and Niko was so glad to see it. "Who needs an excuse? I know, I know. You still have work to do. Blight to end and all that. But when this is all over, we are going to get very drunk to celebrate. Promise?"
Niko smiled. He wanted that. He wanted that to happen more than anything. "I promise."
"I'll hold you to that, Cousin."
They stopped into Alarith's store next. Niko had a lot of extra supplies from that warehouse, and he was eager at the chance to give it to one of his own. They could use it here more than anyone outside could.
"I'm gonna go in alone," Niko said once they reached his father's house. "I promise I won't be long."
"Take your time," Alistair said with a nod.
Smiling gratefully at them, Niko pushed the door open. It was so strange to be here again. Of course the first thing he did when he got to the Alienage was come back here. But with Soris being alone in the quiet house, acting almost like a ghost of his former self, it had been oddly disturbing. It was still strange now, to be here, but it was so much better with his father standing there in the middle of the front room. Cyrion smiled proudly when Niko came in, even more wrinkles forming around his eyes.
"Let me get a look at you," his father said, pulling him closer. His hands grasped Niko's shoulders, turning him slightly to see him from different angles. "Maker, don't they feed you Wardens? You're all skin and bones!"
Niko couldn't help but grin. Despite the fact that they didn't eat a lot while travelling the country, he was sure he was still bigger than when he'd left the Alienage months ago. He was definitely more muscular. Swinging a sword around every day did that to a person. "Everything where you left it?" He asked, glancing around the humble home.
"I expected looters, but I'm not missing much. Here…" Cyrion turned to the bedroom where he had a rather flat locker pulled out and set on the mattress. Niko had never seen it before. "This is for you," he said, lifting a long, curved dagger out of the box.
The Fang of Fen'Harel.
Niko hadn't seen it in years. His father had packed it away right after Adaia was killed. It had been a point of contention between the grieving father and son for a time. The dagger was a family heirloom, passed on to Adaia from her father when he'd taught her to fight. Since she'd passed her training on to Niko, he believed the blade should be passed to him as well. But Cyrion refused to give it to him or even tell him where it was hidden. In fact, Niko had never seen him stand his ground on a decision so adamantly before. He wanted no more fighting after Adaia's death. Niko had been such an angry teen at the time. He'd wanted his mother's dagger and he'd wanted to avenge her. But Cyrion did not want to lose his son too. Once Niko had realized that, he'd let it go. His father was more important to him than vengeance or Fang.
But here it was, his mother's blade.
"I should have given it to you before you left, but with all the trouble I didn't get the chance," Cyrion admitted. "It belonged to your mother and I think you should have it now." He watched his son gently lift the dagger out of the chest, bright eyes travelling the sharp blade. "I know you'll do great things. You already do."
Niko gaze flickered to his father. He set the dagger down and hugged him. "Thank you, father."
Cyrion's eyes closed against the threat of tears, wrapping his boy in his arms. "I'm so glad you're all right, son."
He was unable to linger much longer, but Niko promised himself he would make it back here soon.
He led his companions out of the Alienage, back over the bridge and through the gates. He'd been nervous and a little embarrassed when they came in. The guard at the gate had said the worst of the carnage in the Alienage – the "festering sore full of parasites" – had been cleaned up. Considering what it had looked like, with charred buildings and dead animals and trash clogging up the alleys, Niko didn't want to know what it had looked like before he got there. Now, as they left, he was feeling relieved. He hoped the others wouldn't think he came from some kind of shithole, but now he didn't care. The resiliency of his people was stunning, and he was just glad his father and cousins were still alive.
"Do you want to talk?" Alistair asked once they got to Eamon's estate. Wynne and Zevran had retreated to their own tasks so the Wardens could go talk to the Arl alone.
Niko looked up at him as they walked along, seeing the openness in his friend's eyes. "Maybe. But I don't know what to say."
"Well what are you thinking?"
"…I'm thinking about Valendrian. He must be scared… I'm not sure if you know how important a Hahren is to an Alienage. The Elder guides everyone, cares for everyone. He's the one that taught me to read, the one that watched over me when I was sick and my father had to be at work… I wish I could help him."
"I'm sorry," Alistair said, his face twisting in a frown. "I wish we could help him, too."
"Ah, there you are!"
They both looked up, realizing they had reached the Arl's study.
"I was about to send out a search party," Eamon told them. "I've been hearing of a great commotion in the alienage. What exactly happened there?"
Niko turned to grab a note out of a side pocket of his pack. "Loghain was involved with Tevinter slavers. I have proof," he said, handing the paper over.
Arl Eamon's eyes narrowed on the paper, reading with a hardened gaze for a moment before he set the paper on his desk. "Maker forgive me. I should be appalled that such a thing could exist here, but I'm overjoyed you can implicate Loghain."
Niko shifted, feeling a little uncomfortable with that sentiment, but he understood. Defeating Loghain was on the forefront of the arl's mind, not a bunch of elves…
"We must end the civil war quickly," Eamon went on pointedly. "What the Blight does not corrupt in this land, politics surely will."
-o-o-o-
"Are you sure you're alright, Uncle?"
Cyrion glanced up from where he sat at the table to see Soris gazing at him with worry in his wide eyes. He gave the lad a small smile, the concern his nephew had for him alone lending him some warmth. He and Shianni both had been so generous with their time and love these last few months. It hadn't made the loss of his son easier exactly, but he had appreciated their company and their help.
And now he knew that his son was not dead after all. The Maker had answered his prayers.
Still, he was so tired and sore. So many hours he'd been crammed in a cage with other elves, fearing their own fates as well as mourning the loss of Valendrian. A friend and leader to them all, and they'd seen him ripped away before their very eyes. Last night he'd spent huddled with his frightened neighbors in the cramped cage, children weeping quietly on their mother's shoulders. All the while the slavers paced about, talking shipment and pricing… like they were nothing more than cargo…
The smile had fallen from his face, and Soris still stared at him, wanting to do something.
"I'm fine, my boy," Cyrion assured him. "Just thinking is all. How is supper coming?"
"The stew is almost ready, Uncle. Shianni better get back here soon."
Speak of the devil… The front door opened, Shianni nudging her way in with a beautiful bouquet of flowers bigger than her head.
Her uncle and cousin stared at her in the doorway, and she smirked cheekily back at them. "Look who I ran into in the market."
Niko followed in after her as she went to get a vase. He carried a few sacks in his hands. Cyrion stood from the table immediately and Soris stopped stirring his pot of food.
"Son, what are you doing here? I thought you'd be busy."
"They can manage without me for a few hours," Niko promised, breaking into a wide grin as his father came over and urged him to come in. "I brought some groceries."
"You shouldn't have done that," Cyrion told him, though his appreciation was apparent. "You should keep your money. You've earned it, son."
"I have plenty to spare for my family," Niko insisted, taking the food he'd bought straight to the larder.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, and Niko turned to see Soris giving him a smile.
Niko smiled back at him. "So what's for dinner?" He asked.
"My vegetable stew," Soris answered him proudly, getting bowls and cutlery out.
"I made salad," Shianni piped in, setting the bowl of leafy greens on the table next to the bouquet of delicate white and pink flowers.
Niko sighed happily, taking in the scent of cooked vegetable stew over the fire. "It's been so long since I had that."
"Well," Soris smiled a little and glanced away as he finished setting the table. "I'm sure it's not quite as good as what they are serving you in the Arl's estate."
"Lots of fancy wine and cheese," Shianni teased with an exaggeratedly posh accent.
"It is pretty good," Niko admitted, going to wash his hands in the basin. "But anything is better than what we were eating on the road. You should see Alistair's stew. Ugh…"
"Alistair," Shianni repeated thoughtfully as she came over to wash up too. "Was he that big, handsome guy that was here with you?"
Niko smirked at her, raising an eyebrow. "Handsome?"
"For a human," she added, smirking right back at him and flicking water at his face.
They all chuckled, and Cyrion smiled warmly as he took in this scene. Shianni and Niko continued to chat and tease each other as they came over to sit down, while Soris filled their bowls with his stew and soon joined in on the banter. For a moment, he could pretend the whole nightmare had never even happened…
"Let us pray before we eat, shall we?" Cyrion suggested once everyone had washed up and was sitting down.
The three of them nodded, bowing their heads respectfully.
Cyrion closed his eyes. "We thank the Maker for this food that we are blessed to have on our table here this evening... We are thankful for our health and the safety of our home... We are thankful for the return of my son. May he have the courage and strength and wisdom to do what he must," Cyrion's voice wavered as he went on. "We pray for the Alienage, that our people find hope in these dark times. And we pray for those who were taken from us, and for the friends and family who mourn them… Amen."
All four were quiet at first as they ate their stew and piled vegetables on their plate, eating in silence. Niko couldn't help but think of Valendrian again, but as his eyes landed on Soris he remembered that Valora was probably on that shipment to Tevinter too. He didn't know what had happened between Soris and Valora after he'd left with Duncan. Soris said he was going to settle down with her. Niko wanted to know if they'd ended up marrying after all, but he couldn't bring himself to ask. He was glad Nesiara had been able to leave before the purge hit so she could return to her family. He hoped she made it to Highever. All the darkspawn pouring into the lands hadn't been easy on travelers. It was probably why they were still waiting for some of the Banns to get to Denerim for the Landsmeet.
"So tell us about your adventures," Shianni suddenly insisted, looking at Niko from across the table with inquisitive eyes.
His father and Soris also looked to him now, and Niko smiled. He set down his fork and took a drink of water, smiling. "I don't know where to begin."
"Well what's the craziest thing you've seen?" Soris prompted, also smiling a little.
"A talking tree."
"What?"
Niko smirked at their incredulity. A dozen things had flashed through his mind, all of them crazy, but also rather terrifying. He didn't want to scare them with talk of centuries-old blood mages, and werewolves, and broodmothers. Instead he found himself regaling them about his descent into Orzammar, and his trek up a mountain to find Andraste's ashes, where he also slayed a dragon.
"A dragon?" Shianni beamed. "I can't believe it! I mean… I can, but. Wow…" She shook her head. "It's just like you hear in the stories!"
"I though dragons were extinct," Soris chimed in.
"There was a high dragon seen just before the end of the last age," Cyrion told him. "It's why the current age was named the Dragon Age in the first place. There may be more than we think."
"Maybe it was the same dragon," Niko half-joked before he bit into a piece of asparagus.
"Could have been," Cyrion responded seriously. "They said it went on a rampage in the Frostbacks."
"Hm…"
Cyrion went quiet as his son told them more about the encounter. He could almost picture it as Niko told the tale; his son facing off against a dragon that stood the size of a house, with fanged teeth, each one almost as long as Niko was tall, and skin-searing fire blasting from its lungs…
He could even believe it was true after that scene back in the warehouse. Niko had fought as well as any soldier. And Cyrion was so proud of him… but it was strange to him too. Niko had always been brave, and strong, and good with a blade. His mother had taught him to be. But the viciousness he'd seen Niko fight with in that warehouse was something he'd never forget, the way he chased down his target even through burning flames. No father is prepared to see his son cut a man down like that. And Niko had done it with practiced ease, no hesitation or remorse.
It was a part of Niko Cyrion had never wanted to see. Not that he wasn't proud. He was so very proud. But he'd always imagined something different for his son, something safer; a home in the alienage, a modest job, a wife and children. It wasn't glamorous, but it was safer than the life he had now. And he would have been home, where he belonged.
But… maybe this was never where he'd belonged after all.
Cyrion pondered that, watching Niko's face light up as he spoke of his travelling companions.
"And then Oghren said, 'You know, if you drank more wine, you would whine much less!'"
Soris and Shianni burst into laughter at Niko's impression of the dwarf's gruff voice, and Cyrion couldn't help but smile as well. It had been a while since the house was filled with such palpable joy.
"I can't believe all these things you've seen, Cousin," Shianni gushed. "I didn't think ghosts were real…"
"You'd be surprised how many ghosts I've seen," Niko told her.
"I've seen a ghost," Soris suddenly spoke up, and they all turned to him. He glanced around, surprised by the sudden attention and lowered his gaze down to his cup of water. "Just one, though."
"You never told me that," Shianni said. "When did you see it?"
"Well… it was when I went to go help clean up the orphanage."
The mention of it brought a dreadful silence over the table.
"What happened to the orphanage?" Niko asked quietly.
"It was raided in the purge," Shianni told him, her voice small and sad as she glared at nothing in particular.
Niko's face suddenly drained of color. Cyrion wasn't quite sure if the boy looked more like he was going to be sick or like he might flip the table over in outrage. But he did neither of those things and instead sat silently, frozen in place.
"I went with a few others," Soris went on once he felt like it was okay to tell this story. "A couple of us who had grown up there. We felt like it should be us," he said, almost to himself. "But when we got there… it felt like we walked into the Void itself. It felt so dark and treacherous. And then I saw a ghost across the room, past some wreckage… It looked like a child."
"Did it speak?" Niko asked hesitantly.
"No," Soris said. "It looked at me and ran off. Then we heard barking and got out of there quick. None of the humans who came in to clean things up would go in there either. It's too eerie."
Niko nodded, trying not to look too hard at the stricken look on his cousin's face. "I'll see if I can check it out tomorrow."
"Are you sure about that?" Cyrion asked.
"Yeah," Niko assured, trying to keep his tone light. He'd seen plenty of ghosts and such by now. The fact that this was a place he'd known as part of his home though… He didn't want to think about that.
"You might want to talk to that Templar that's been hanging around," Shianni suggested. "They say he's been trying to investigate something creepy going on in the alienage." She stabbed a piece of tomato and plopped it in her mouth. "I thought it was a load of crap, but maybe there is something to it after all."
"Alright."
Soris smiled a little. "Thank you, Cousin. They deserve a proper burial, too. If only we could go in there."