Chapter Text
The Warden-Commander listened to the Seneschal drawl about affairs on a small farm outside of Amaranthine. Her desk was covered in documents to read and sign, because apparently inviting new traders to the Keep and disposing of Antivan poisons led to more paperwork.
"Glowing blue? Not physically there? Runs from people? Varel, that's a fade spirit. Not a ghost."
The Seneschal bristled, but continued on anyways, "Whatever it is, the farmers keep complaining to the lord who complains to me-"
"-who complains to the Commander of Grey, beloved Hero of Ferelden. We'll go take a look, Varel, long as you do my paperwork."
"Of course, Surana."
"You know how to sign for me."
//
"We're hunting a spirit? A ghost?"
"There's no such thing as ghosts, Oghren."
"Alistair said you saw ghosts in the alienage."
"Those weren't ghosts. They were echoes of victims of blood magic."
"And that's different from ghosts how?"
"Echoes are remnants of blood magic, the soul has moved on to the Fade at that point."
"What's souls got to do with ghosts?"
"Well- anyways, our resident ghost shows more signs of being a Fade spirit than anything mortal."
The other two Wardens, Anders and Nathaniel, trailed behind, not quite comfortable enough to have theological discussions with Commander Surana and her old friend, who frequently brought up being at the battle of Fort Drakon. They talked of places and people that, for the most part, held no significance to them. Redcliffe, Zevran, Caridin's Cross, Sten, Kinloch Hold, Loghain. Company was easy enough, though. Surana didn't ask many questions, but she was perceptive and had a special talent for finding perfect gifts, like kittens and letters from family.
The sun was almost set when Surana stopped in the middle of the road, in front of a little farmhouse. The homestead seemed deserted, likely was due to the Blight before being reclaimed. The Commander straightened her back and took a deep breath as she did before talking to officials and strangers, as if she needed to prove herself worthy of respect. Despite her titles and accomplishments, what people always saw first was an elven woman. And they quickly picked up that she was a mage as well.
She knocked on the door once, twice, before realizing she was investigating an alleged haunting. The owners may hear knocks on the door at all hours of the day, only to open it and see no one. Surana coughed, then called out, "Hello, it's Warden-Commander Surana. Here following up on the.. reported ghost sightings."
There was a sound of rustling behind closed doors, then a small crack and an eye visible through it. A gruff voice, Surana estimated it belonged to a middle-aged human man, "They sent Wardens? We got ghosts, no darkspawn."
"With the Blight over, we take what work we get," Surana replied, tired of this explaining this, but she quickly added, "but no payment is necessary."
"You're investigating this outta the kindness of your heart?" The voice was skeptical, not that the Wardens could blame them. Not many generous souls giving handouts, let alone conducting paranormal investigations for free.
"Yes, mostly," she nodded. "And because I can't let things in my arling get out of hand."
"You're the arlessa?" Surana rolled her eyes at the shock.
"Uh huh, now can you let us in so we can discuss this ghost situation."
"Course, course, didn't realize the arlessa was coming over! Come in!" There was rustling behind the door then it opened to reveal, as Surana has estimated, a middle-aged human man, as well as two young children and a teenager who peeked out from behind a wall.
"Maybe you should start with being the arlessa next time," Anders joked quietly, so that the host wouldn't hear. The simple joke was a risk; Surana didn't seem to mind his sense of humor, but he'd never made a joke at her expense before this.
"I think something about the ears makes it hard for strangers to believe," she joked back, a small smirk betraying her amusement. She quickly schooled her expression into a neutral, professional one as she led the Wardens into the home.
"They don't know you're an elf with that silly little hat on," said Oghren gruffly as he took second place following. With haste, he made himself at home, finding a chair without the host sitting them yet. The wooden frame creaked under the weight of the red steel armor, causing the host to look over the dwarf with a panicked expression.
"But the hat is silly," she replied as she made her way to stand next to the dwarf. Anders and Nathaniel were slow to follow, but found their places standing behind the Commander. "No one can take me serious with it on."
"I'm taking you serious, arlessa," said the host immediately, nodding his head at nothing in particular. He made a motion to the wall and the children slowly emerged from behind it. The host began to introduce himself, his children, and their haunting, "I am Laz Byrant, these are my sons, Herman and Samson, and my daughter, Jenelle."
The Commander nodded and introduced her party, "Commander of Grey, Nirvana Surana. These are Wardens Anders, Nathaniel Howe, and Oghren." She thought for a fews moments before asking, "What is the nature of your 'ghost?'"
"Erm, it's blue, bright blue. We see it in the barn at night sometimes, it scares the horses awake. When we try to see what's going on, it just walks through the wall! And I've heard whispering in another language."
"Do you know what language?"
"Uh, I'm not sure."
"It's not a ghost," the teenager, Jenelle, blurted out. When all eyes were on her, she looked away sheepishly, speaking quieter than before, "I mean, I don't think it is. I left a loaf of bread out before bed one night and it was gone in the morning. And I've noticed the dog's and horses' food missing. Meat and carrots. So whatever it is- whoever they are, they eat food."
Surana absorbed the new information. It was possible the spirit wasn't a spirit if it ate food, but the physical description fit a Fade spirit too well. She would need to see it herself to know what it was and how to deal with it, but it avoided people. Not that it would be a problem for her. Finally, she had decided on a plan of action, "Byrant, do you mind if we spend the night? If you have room to spare, of course."
"Yes, yes, we got a guest bedroom. And an old building for storage and the barn."
"I'll take the barn," Surana said immediately, then turned to the others, "You three sort out the rest." To the family, she said, "Try to stay out of the barn until morning. I'll come to you when the problem has been resolved."
The Wardens decided to stay in the storage building, keeping awake until the Commander called for them.
"I'm going to hide out in vulture form and hope I don't scare away our new friend," she explained to them, "When- if, the fighting starts, you'll know." Then she transformed herself into a large bird, which Oghren didn't bash an eyelash at and freaked Nathaniel out greatly and Anders only midly. The vulture flapped its wings loudly and picked itself up, flying until it landed in the rafters of the barn.
"Alright, now that the Commander's gone, it's time to share war stories," said Oghren as he led the others to the building.
"War stories?" Anders raised an eyebrow.
"Gossip, mage," the dwarf snorted, opening the door to reveal a crowded shed. Every inch of the floor was either shelves or mats. There was a suspicious amount of dog hair on the mats. "Did you know that the Commander dated a blood mage? John or something."
The mage narrowed his eyes then asked, "Jowan?"
"Uh huh. That's why she joined the Wardens." Oghren replied with a noncommittal shrug before he flopped down onto a mat, still in full armor. Nathaniel winced at the loud clanging noises that followed the action.
"Why do you know this?" Nathaniel asked, taking a mat further away from the dwarf, sitting cross-legged. Anders sat down next to Nathaniel and adjusted his robes as he pulled his knees to his chest.
"She told us that after we met him in a dungeon. He tried to kill her Templar boyfriend's uncle." That made Anders snort, the Commander dated a blood mage then a Templar? Extremely unlikely but if her taste was that terrible, it had to be applauded.
"Why are you telling us this?" Asked the rogue as he adjusted where his bow sat between him and Anders.
"Just think of it as a picture. Surana's only painted one corner and I'm trying to fill out the rest."
Anders and Nathaniel remained silent for a few minutes after, until the mage quietly asked the rogue, "Do you think Pounce will mind the dog smell?"
"Do you?" Nathaniel tilted his head to the side, a few strands of hair slipping from a messy braid.
Anders told himself to be professional and looked straight ahead, "This whole country smells like dog."
//
When night had fallen and the sky was dark, a hooded figure slipped into the barn. The figure had spent the day in Amaranthine, using the last of his coin to acquire more information about the magister, the arlessa, and the Keep. With no coins to spare for food and boarding again, he regretfully slunk back to the barn he hid away in like the fugitive he was. For the past few nights, there was bread laid out, presumably for him. Tonight there was dried meat and cheese. And a vulture watching him. He didn't plan on dying tonight.
He cautiously sniffed the meat and cheese. It didn't smell poisoned. He knew the family minded his presence, but he couldn't bring himself to show himself, to potentially endanger them. If they wanted him gone, his bread would have been poisoned nights ago. After taking the food, he slipped into the hayloft to sleep.
After what must have been only a few minutes of sleep, he was woke up by footfall below. A small group, with at least one heavily armored warrior, by the sounds of it. He found his sword and left the loft to face either the family or the intruders. If it was the family, he would explain himself and leave if they did not wish to knowingly harbor a fugitive slave. If it was intruders, he would defend the family who unknowingly showed him kindness.
The sight in the barn was unsurprising- his past had finally caught up to him. Two Tevinter mages, an archer- likely an assassin, and a Dwarven warrior. He let the hood slip off his shoulders as his brands flared to life, washing him in blue-white light. With a booming voice, not quite there, he simply said, "I am not going back to Tevinter. Not alive, at least."
"Tevinter? We're Fereldens," the shorter mage said, decidedly the leader despite her elven features, "We're not- the robes, they're not- We're Wardens."
"Likely," he said with a roll of his eyes then lunged towards the archer with a sweep of his blade.
The fight went embarrassingly fast. He quickly immobilized the archer, causing the human mage, a healer, to attend to his wounds for the rest of the conflict. The dwarf charged at him with relentless anger, as if he was the sole cause of any of the other’s problems. The elven mage, not a blood mage, hurled entropy and destruction spells as him, until his tired mind and wrecked body could not longer resist. He laid on the floor, paralyzed, as his vision swam with nightmarish images, distorting from faces he vaguely recognized to abominations. The dwarf went to slam his maul into his face, but the elf interjected, "Wait! Oghren, don't! I have questions for him."
Oghren stepped back, a swarm of blood-soaked hands following with him, while the elf stepped forward with blood dripping off her in pints. Her eye sockets were empty. He wished he could look away, but the glyph of paralysis prevented him from doing so. In the corner of his eye, the healer helped the archer stumble to his feet.
"Sorry about the visions- they're temporary, shouldn't last more than a few minutes," the elf sounded genuinely apologetic as she lifted the glyph, letting his head fall to the side, to look away from her eyeless face. His wounds were too severe to make any attempts to get up. "Anders, can you do anything for his wounds?"
"Um, yes," the healer helped the archer walked to and lean on Oghren. Anders sat next to him, obviously uncomfortable, and started to heal.
"No! Do not," he used his energy to turn his head and glare at the mage, "I do not need your magic."
"Oh, alright then," he said with little remorse then immediately stood, "Bleed out then."
The elven mage huffed, then took the healer's place, "I can heal without magic, for the most part."
"So, we're not from the Imperium," she said, as she pulled out elfroot salves, healing potions, and clean bandages, "If you think we're slavers, you've got us all wrong. I met a Tevinter magister in an alienage. Nearly ripped his head off."
He simply hummed in response, resigned to let the mage tend to his wounds, attempt to lure him into a false sense of security with kindness, then he would kill them and escape. It was surprising how stupid these slave catchers were.
"I'm Nirvana Surana, Warden-Commander and arlessa of Amaranthine."
Oh, so they weren't slavers. Or they were stupid and liars. Very possible. Still, the mage- Nirvana, cleaned and bandaged the more superficial wounds. A large gash on his torso would regretfully need a healing spell; he nodded when Nirvana asked him if Anders could heal it. He began to doubt they were slavers more by the minute, but they could still be working with slavers. With the magister, the Tevinter ambassador to Ferelden, who Nirvana would meet eventually.
"The dwarf's Oghren, healer's Anders, and the archer's Nathaniel. Like I said, we're Grey Wardens. We were sent here to investigate a haunting. You're not a ghost, as far as I can tell."
"I am not," he laughed, as cold healing magic washed over his torso, stitching his flesh back together. It itched, but Anders held his wrist back when he tried to scratch it.
"You got a name?" Nirvana tilted her head to the side, as if scaling him up. A bleeding fugitive slave on the floor of a barn in Amaranthine.
"Fenris," he finally said.
"Alright, Fenris, where are you going after this? The Byrants might let you stay, but you've got a place at the Keep. If you want it."
"You're conscripting him?" Nathaniel asked, "Isn't one Warden who wants you dead enough, Commander?"
"No, and you know you don't want me dead anymore, Howe. I have that effect on people," she turned to Nathaniel then back to Fenris, "I'm not bringing you back to any slavers and I'm not making you join the Wardens. I'm giving you an option to stay at the Vigil's Keep. Take it or leave it."
"I will take it."