AUTHOR'S NOTE: HELLO AGAIN MY LOVELIES!
Now I may be slow in updating, but I am making a promise to try and update at least every two weeks, but don't hold me to that.
Shout outs to Ickypicky892, hp3l3ssromantic, Parliament of Ravens, peeho1e, tasuki41089, and everyone else that has followed, faved, and read. You guys rock!
Any who, on with the story!
Time stopped within the confines of the war room. Everyone stood with baited breath, waiting to see what the next move would be. Solas had seen many things, experienced moments and scenes from ages long passed, and had stood witness to almost all of the wonders the Fade had to offer. In truth, not often did anything in the waking world ever pique his intrigue, and rarely did the physical world ever show him something that truly amazed him. What was before him was, in all honesty, nothing truly extraordinary; it was rather plebeian when compared to what could be found amongst spirits, demons, and the living past. Yet there Solas stood, utterly mystified. His narrow eyes widened, his mouth open in an expression of surprise, and he felt like he'd just been frozen where he stood.
She was a tiny thing, as was the case with elf children, and barely reached her mother's knee. A plain blue dress with puffed sleeves and dirt stains hung loosely from her thin frame, the result of genetics rather than malnutrition, and the skirt ended just above knobby knees connected to skinny legs and tiny bare feet. Her hair fell down her back in waves that looked soft as bird feathers, and appeared to have yet to be cut. Her tresses were buttery yellow, a colour Solas had not seen since long ago, when he wore a younger man's clothes and a younger man's hair.
The little girl looked back and forth between the adults as if wondering why they were all being quiet. She seemed to sense the tension in the room, because she toddled over to Nimwen and began tugging on her coattail.
"What's wrong, mama?" the child asked. At the sound of the little voice, the Inquisitor blinked and quickly snapped out her own stupor.
"Nothing, da'len, all is well," said the Dalish woman, smiling at the girl reassuringly.
"Who's that man?" The little elven girl pointed a chubby finger at Solas and eyed him with curiosity. There was no malice or intensity of any kind in her young blue eyes, and yet her gaze was powerful enough that Solas felt something come over him that he knew not how to respond to.
"Nobody, just one of mama's agents," Nimwen quickly lied. The she-elf looked up at the Ambassador.
"Josie, please take her out," she said quietly.
"Of course," the Antivan replied, her face still riddled with guilt.
"Come on, Lori," Josephine cooed, steering the girl towards the door with a hand on her back. She purposefully placed herself between the girl and Solas.
"Aunt Josie, did I do something bad?" she asked, blue eyes wide. The child seemed confused, holding the dirt covered carrot to her chest like it was a doll.
"No, no sweetie, you just came in at a bad time," Josephine assured the girl, lifting her up in her arms.
"But I grew a carrot," the girl pouted.
"And it is a lovely carrot, but mama is busy," the ambassador explained as she shifted the girl to her hip.
"Now come on, I think that I saw Scout Harding return from her trip to the Emerald Graves, and I'm sure she has brought something back for you."
The yellow haired child gasped with excitement.
"Bugs?" she asked hopefully.
"I don't know; let's go see if she brought back bugs, shall we?"
"Bugs!"
As the little girl squealed at the prospect of insects, the Antivan woman sent the Inquisitor a look of sympathy as she and the child left the room.
As if it hadn't been awkward before, the unease in the room became almost suffocating. Nimwen rubbed her temples, hoping to ward off her impending headache. When she worked up the nerve to gaze at Solas, his face was a mix of shock, confusion, and such a deep sadness that it almost completely crushed her resolve. But it was not enough.
"So Solas, what were you saying about a woman?" It was a piss poor attempt to disregard what had just happened, but Nimwen had to start somewhere. Solas still looked at the closed doors, as if the girl was suddenly going to appear once more. When he heard the Inquisitor address him, he turned to her in disbelief. Was she honestly going to say nothing of what just happened?
"Nimwen, tell me-"
"Leiliana, tell the others to meet in here, I think they should be here for the discussion of this "Mordalwen" person."
"As you wish, your worship."
"And Cullen, did you ever hear word from the men stationed in the Western Approach?"
The commander seemed startled by the sudden question.
"Uh-uh, yes. They said that their supplies did arrive and that they are now fully stocked."
"Very good, and now we need to start thinking about a new supply route to prevent anymore late deliveries." the Dalish woman looked at her general.
"Go talk to the scout leaders and see if there's an alternate route they can use."
"Of course," Cullen said. He tried to control his walking, as to not make it obvious he was trying to get out of the room as quickly as possible. Still, the rapid clinking of armour gave away his rush as the blond commander strode out of the war room, shutting the doors behind him with a defining thud. Nimwen's eyes had followed Cullen as he left, and once the doors closed she began staring down at the map table, and generally just avoided looking at Solas.
Solas knew that she was intentionally ignoring the druffalo in the room, as was her way when things became stressful. He himself was still in a state of shock, half convinced he was dreaming, and had it not been for his experience with the world of dreams, he would have believed it. Still, this was not something to ignore.
"Nimwen-"
There came a crinkling noise, the sound of the Dalish woman clawing at the map with her nails. When she realized what she was doing, the mage released her grip and tried smoothing out the wrinkled parchment. Despite her calm exterior, the other mage knew that she must be struggling to keep herself together. For a brief moment, he imagined the possibility of Cole suddenly appearing to try and relieve some of the distress Nimwen must have been under. He hoped that would not be the case. Now that the two were finally alone, Solas felt like some of the pretence had fallen away.
"I didn't know," he suddenly blurted out. It was the first thing he felt like saying, for truly, he had no idea. He had been tempted to check in on the Inquisitor, to watch her from the Fade. He wanted nothing more than to see her face, even it was only her dream self, even if she would not have been able to see him. He forced himself to keep away, every fibre in his being dedicated to ignoring the tendrils he could sense in the Fade that would lead to her. He did this, for he knew that if he saw her, even within the realm of spirits with her unaware, that it would be all it took for him to give into temptation and return to Skyhold and her embrace. Now though, he wished he had fell to the temptation, because then he might have learned sooner of her.
At his words, Nimwen's face twisted into a bitter smile.
"I know," she answered calmly. Her acceptance surprised him, however he knew not whether it was a sign for good or a bad.
This distantness, it was wrong on her. She had been willing to speak her mind and her feelings to almost everyone, and it was to him that she had divulged some of her most intimate secrets, even when he would not do the same. She was an open book, and this closed off behaviour made Solas feel like he was talking to an impersonator, a desire demon in the guise of his beloved. However, he supposed that he had lost his right to her ever free-spirit a long time ago.
"Please vhenan, let us talk about this," he pleaded.
"Solas, please." The elven man heard the catch in her voice, and her face bore the same feelings of conflict that Solas was having.
"There will be a time when we can speak more of this, but right now I need you as my agent, here to give us information on a potential threat."
The bald man wanted to press further, however he held his tongue. Nimwen seemed slightly relieved at his silence.
"I need to make arrangements. Stay here. And by the Creators, if you even think about moving from this room, I will give you to Dagna to be used in experiments."
Solas could not help it when the corner of his mouth twitched upwards at the barest hint of the jests that once flew back and forth between them. For a moment he thought that there was a spark of mischievousness in Nimwen's eyes, but if it had been there at all it was quickly squelched as the Inquisitor put on her front and walked stiffly passed him. The clicking of her heels echoed in his ears, and before he could stop himself, he found himself saying,
"Her name is Lori?"
The clicks halted. Solas turned and saw Nimwen with her hand on the door, shoulders stiff.
"Lorien, but everyone calls her Lori."
She looked at him from over her shoulder. Solas could not determine what he saw in the wintery pools of her eyes, just that it was raw emotion.
"She'll be turning three in a few weeks," she added in a quiet murmur. Before Solas could even decide whether to reply or not she was gone, with the sound of wooden doors replacing her presence.
Solas was now alone; just as he had been for the past three years, and for many years before that.
Now that he was by himself with only his thoughts, he became victim to a tidal wave of them. Nimwen had a child, he had a child, they had a child. A child! Solas tried to think of how this could be possible. He and Nimwen had only lain with each other once, the night before they journeyed to the Temple of Mythal. That had been the only time, but it only took one time, the mage had to remind himself.
That's when it hit him. She must have been with child during their final battle with Coryphaeus. The thought made Solas ill. That fight with the madman and his corrupted dragon had been by far the worst battle they had ever been in, and it was only by the skin of their teeth that they succeeded in slaying the false god. His mind relived the moments between shooting out lightning and sending out healing magic when he saw the Dalish mage dodging dragon-fire and crushing blows, and suddenly everything had a new light on them. He thought back to every time she had been thrown across that crumbling courtyard, the times he watched in fear as the wind of the dragon's beating wings sucked her closer to the beast, and every scratch and bruise he had healed now seemed like fatal wounds. How easy would it have been to lose the child from a wrong blow to the stomach, or just the strain on her mana alone?!
Solas leaned against the war table, his sweating palm pressed against the wooden surface for support.
Was she even aware of her condition during that fight?
'No,' he immediately thought to himself. She hadn't known. She may have been the Inquisitor, but she was still Nimwen Levellan, and that woman was a worrier if there ever was one; her generous nature, concern for the small folk, and her love of children was known by everyone. No way would she have thrown herself into battle if she knew she was with child.
That meant she must have discovered it after he left…
He staggered, feeling as though he had been dealt a physical blow. He pressed his palm to his forehead, trying and failing to find any solace within the storm of his head. It was futile. It was all too much.
He had a child.
He had only referred to her as "the child" or "the little girl." It made it somewhat easier, to make it seem like he was not associated with her or her creation, to make it seem like there was a small gleam of hope that this could all just be a mistake. Unfortunately, he was beyond pretending.
At first, he was willing to amuse the notion that Nimwen could have perhaps taken another lover during his three year absence. It was not so hard to believe. She was indeed a beautiful woman, and Solas knew with certainty that there were many men, and perhaps women, who would grab at the chance to have the Inquisitor in their beds. But this idea became moot the moment he laid eyes on her. She looked so much like her mother: the same pale skin, the winter coloured eyes, and the full pink lips. But there was no doubting that those high cheekbones, narrow seed shaped eyes, and yellow hair, could only have come from one person.
"I have a daughter," he whispered to himself. He had said it aloud, and therefore it was real.
"Her name is Lorien." The name was heavy on his tongue. It sounded like music, Lorien.
"I have a daughter…" It tasted sweet, too sweet, guilt mixed pleasure of eating a stolen piece of candy. It was a wondrous thing that he did not deserve. The silence was smothering. Solas crumpled into one of the chairs. He set his elbows on the table and bowed his head, resting his chin on his knuckles. Solas' skull pounded with the thousand voices screeching every mistake he'd ever made, every vow he had broken, every reason why what was to come could only end in misery. And he had nobody to blame but himself, and the only victims would be his beloved and...
"Her name is Lorien." The fort of stoicness he had vowed to maintain finally crumbled, and for the first time in many ages, Fen'Harel wept.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The angst is strong with this one…
Indeed this, aside from my other DA fic, "What the Night has Brought" is probably going to be the most angst-filled thing I've ever written. But rest assured my lovelies, all will not be doom and gloom, and there shall be fluffy bunnies around to soak up all the manly elf tears.
Quick question! What do you think of our dear baby elf's name? I've always loved the name Lorien and I thought it would be cute if she was nicknamed "Lori." I'll have fun when we get to learn more about her, but this will be the first time I've written for a child character that will be the focus of the story, so if any of you who have written kid characters, or find yourself surrounded by little tots often, let me know if you have any advice on how to write for a little kid.
Alright, I have been rambling for long enough, stay tuned for the next chapter, which I have somewhat started.
FAVS, FOLLOWS AND REVIEWS ARE RECEIVED WITH LOVE!