AUTHORS' NOTES:
Flamewing: Hey, readers, I haven't placed messages on chapters as of late, but I wanted to say thank you for your support on this story. Also, Herenya and I decided to try and update around three chapters at once to try and push out the story a little faster since we have had all but the editing done on this story for a time now.
Also to the guest reviewer who was wondering about Dirth's past, to get more information on this, feel free to read my fan-fiction Final Hour. This story draws from the back history I made there. There are also answers in this story, but to see everything, Final Hour will have those answers.
HerenyaHope: Greetings lovelies! As Flame said we'll be pumping these chapters out in threes, which is awesome for you guys because you'll get more chapters! Thanks so much for being patient with us and thanks for your continued support!
SHOUT-OUTS GO OUT TO: Leman of the Russ, and all you other awesome peoples who have been so supportive.
Chapter 10:
"I want to thank you again for your help, Keeper," Nimwen said to the older elf.
"Even if part of my clan remains with the Dread Wolf, it was worth it if only to learn a little more about our forgotten history. Dareth Shiral, da'len." The Keeper bowed his head to Nimwen.
"Hold on, before you go." Nimwen reached into her bag. She pulled out one of the books Mahvir spared from the fire. "I want you to have this. You helped us greatly and it does no good to the People for me to horde them all." She handed it to him. "We should share our knowledge, after all."
Hawen's eyes grew wide as he looked from her to the book she'd passed him. "Ma serannas, da'len. A piece of our People's legacy doesn't bring those now gone back, but it will aid us in uncovering more of our past." He bowed his head to her once more. "You have my deepest thanks."
Nimwen smiled. "Dareth shiral, hahren. Give my best to your clan."
"Dareth shiral, falon." Hawen turned and, with the hunter at his side, set out towards where the rest of his clan waited.
The Keeper and hunter had only just vanished, when a shriek shot through Nimwen's ear. A wing struck her in the head.
"What's going-?" Nimwen's eyes widened. "Fear? Fear, what's wrong?"
"Dirthamen!" Fear launched himself from Nimwen's shoulder and flew into the bushes. A moment later there was a sound of a body striking the ground.
"Mahvir?" Nimwen sprinted through the brush towards him, a million possibilities flashing through her mind.
Mahvir gasped as he pulled a dagger from his hip. Blood pooled into the dried grasses around him. He managed to push himself up into a sitting position. His skin was ghostly white and breathing pained.
"Cassandra, get the bandages, now," Nimwen ordered. She heard Cassandra run back to the horses as Nimwen knelt beside Mahvir. "I need you to relax," Nimwen said, her voice gentle. She helped him to lean against a tree and immediately began to examine his wound. "If you can speak, tell me what happened," she said.
"I got stabbed," he panted. "I would think that was clear." There was a teasing note to his voice, though it shook with effort to speak.
Fear pecked him in the head.
Mahvir gasped a little. "There were two of them who entered the trial room. I managed to keep them distracted for a time; then, I misjudged an attack and ended up stabbed."
'This isn't good,' Nimwen thought gravely. The wound was deep and the bone was probably struck as well. "I need to stop the bleeding," she told him. Her hand was growing red where it was pressed to the gash. She looked down at him, and sighed. There was no getting around it. "This is not going to be easy. I have to cauterize it or it'll get worse, understand?"
Mahvir bowed his head in understanding.
"Cass?" Nimwen called.
"I found them," the Seeker said. She ran to them, a roll of bandages in hand.
"Good, set them beside me," Nimwen said. "And, Cassandra, I need you to hold him down."
Cassandra nodded.
They managed to get into position, with Cassandra sitting behind Mahvir her arms around him, just enough to keep him from thrashing.
Nimwen straddled his legs, to prevent him from kicking her. "Ready?" she asked.
Mahvir inclined his head.
Nimwen bowed her head, and focused solely on the wound. She didn't want to see his face. She felt her hand heat up as she summoned the fire spell. Fire had never been her strong suit, but it would be good enough. "Don't let him move," she warned Cassandra. Her heated hand hovered over the bloody gash. "Ir abelas," she whispered. She stuck two fingers into the knife wound.
Mahvir stiffened, but didn't cry out or make another sound.
Nimwen didn't know whether to be relieved or disturbed his screams weren't filling her ears. Her mind harkened back to the experiments he told her about, and she shuddered. What had Elgar'nan done that made burning flesh tolerable? Nimwen felt her stomach turn at the sound of sizzling. She pulled her fingers out and pressed her palm to the wound opening in order to seal it.
"We're almost done," she said, trying to sound assuring. Despite her fear, she glanced up to see his face.
Mahvir's eyes were squeezed shut and he was whispering something under his breath. The words couldn't be made out. Some of it sounded elvhen while other parts of it were in common. He looked paler than before. Otherwise there was an unnerving calm about him.
Nimwen bit her lip. He was in so much pain, and, yet, still he kept quiet. It wasn't right. He should have been screeching, howling. She wanted him to. She wanted him to allow his emotions to be unleashed, to express what he was feeling. She wanted him to know it was okay.
"You're fine, you're all right," she murmured, voice soft like when she would rock Lori during teething pains.
She reached out to stroke the hair from his face, to try and be comforting, but before she did the metal hook on her arm glinted before her. She retracted her fake hand, and kept her eyes on her work.
"We're done," Nimwen said when she felt the wound was sealed. She cancelled the fire spell and sat back, letting out a sigh. "Cassandra, help me get the rest of his robe off so we can bandage him," Nimwen said.
"Very well."
"Mahvir, are you still awake?" Nimwen asked. She actually hoped he was not fully conscious, as it would make bandaging easier.
Mahvir's eyes snapped open. "I can bandage the wound, Lady Nimwen. You've my thanks for stopping the bleeding." His voice was calm. All signs of pain gone from his face. It looked as if he had never been stabbed in the first place.
Nimwen shook her head. "Oh, no, you are not going to agitate this thing after I just sealed it."
"I would have to agree with her. You already worsened the damage by your travelling here," Cassandra added.
"Which is why you are going to sit still and let us take care of you, understood?"
Mahvir closed his eyes then lowered his head.
He straightened. He unlatched the upper part of his robes. The robe fell away revealing a tattered black shirt. The shirt hung off his thin shoulders. He managed to get out of it just as careful as before. When the shirt fell away, it revealed a long scar cutting down from his right shoulder towards his left hip and vanishing into the scar which drew the eye.
A massive burn scar laced his left arm as well as the left side of his chest and side, flesh whiter than even his normal colored skin, tinged with a pink. The scar twisted up his neck and vanished in his hair just under his jaw.
Nimwen's eyes widened, but she quickly reined in her surprise. Mahvir didn't need her gasping over his scars. "All right, Cassandra, hold the end here while I begin wrapping," she said, as if she never saw the marred skin. She slowly started to wind the white fabric around his thin torso. "It needs to be snug, but tell me if it's too tight," she said to Mahvir. 'Though I doubt it could be.'
Fear hadn't been exaggerating when he said Mahvir was underweight. The sight of his thin frame, verging on skeletal, made a knot form in Nimwen's chest. Her mind flickered to images of Lori, looking starved and wraith-like, and she vowed that she would put food in Mahvir even if she had to shove it down his throat.
Mahvir didn't speak. He wasn't looking at either woman. The tips of his ears were red and he somehow was able to keep the tinge from his cheeks. It was clear he was more than a little embarrassed, sitting there half naked.
Nimwen wanted to assure him he was fine, that there was nothing to be embarrassed of, but she had a feeling bringing it up would only make it worse. So, she continued on, layering the bandages around his torso. "Just a minute, gotta tie…" Nimwen blinked when she realized she couldn't tie a knot with one hand. "Um, Cassandra?"
"I'll handle it."
Nimwen shuffled aside to allow the Seeker room.
Cassandra quickly tied up the bandages.
"There, good as new," Nimwen said with a clap. "Does it feel alright, or is it too tight? Too loose? Just let me know and I'll adjust it. Or, I guess, Cassandra will adjust it."
The moment Nimwen said she was done, Mahvir pulled back on the tattered remains of his shirt. "It's fine. Ma serannas, Lady Nimwen, and to you as well, Seeker." The words were a little rushed. He continued to pull on the layers and layers of clothing he wore. Then he used his staff to pull himself to his feet.
"Take it easy," Nimwen urged. She stood up and brushed the grass from her robes. "There's no need to rush."
Mahvir glanced towards her; then, looked away. The quick flicker of his eyes was enough to make it clear he was still feeling self conscious. "It'll be dark soon. We should find a place to camp for the night away from the temple."
Deceit returned to his staff and Fear snapped his beak. The raven looked at Nimwen with his burning gaze. He landed on Nimwen's shoulder. "Don't take it personally. Dirthamen is shy," Fear whispered in her ear before he launched himself off her shoulder. He landed on Mahvir's.
"Let us go get the horses," said Cassandra.
They untethered the horses and Cassandra helped Nimwen onto her mount, then offered to assist Mahvir.
The moment she had turned to offer it, was to see he was already mounted, reins in hand.
"You recover quickly," Cassandra remarked as she got on her horse.
"Vir helped me up," he stated in response and tilted his head to where the eight sentinels stood.
"We won't be following from here," Atisha told Nimwen. "We already have our orders on what is needed for the next stage in stopping the Dread Wolf."
Vir scowled. "I'm staying."
Atisha cocked an eyebrow at him; then shrugged. She gestured to the others. Before anyone could speak, the seven of them vanished into brush and the long shadows of dusk.
"Where are they going?" Nimwen asked.
"Some will change and join the Dread Wolf and others will spread out across Thedas," Mahvir stated. He stirred the mount and turned it so it stood beside Vir. He held out his hand to the sentinel.
Vir's face turned bright red. "I'll walk."
"We may be travelling for a while," Cassandra said.
"I'm not-" Vir sighed and glanced at Mahvir's hand. Then, he looked at the ground. "I will still walk."
Nimwen chuckled. "Do not complain of sore feet then." She started her horse at a trot, taking the lead for a place to camp.
"I think I recall a clearing nearby," Cassandra told Nimwen.
"I think so too. It should be far enough away from the temple." She turned her head. "What do you think, Mahvir-" she paused when she saw how far behind he was.
Mahvir hadn't kicked his horse into a trot like they had. Instead it walked far behind them. The horse was kept at an easy slow pace by Vir who walked next to it.
"Fenhedis," she cursed. "Come on, Cassandra, we were going to fast."
"Inquisitor, may I ask you something?"
Nimwen raised a brow. "What is it?"
"Before, when we were tending to his wounds. The marks on his skin, they were severe."
Nimwen grimaced. "Yes."
"I did not say anything before, but now we are alone, I was curious whether you knew where they came from."
How was Nimwen supposed to explain to the devout Cassandra that she had been in the presence of Shartan himself? That she had carried him like a sack of potatoes? "He was burned in a fire," Nimwen explained. If Mahvir wanted to reveal his past, it was up to him to decide. "It injured him badly, and made his breathing even worse."
"And the scars?"
"There was…" Nimwen sighed. "People hurt him, long ago. That is all I will say. He's suffered enough horrors and doesn't need them to be dug back up."
"I will not say anything."
"Thank you, Cassandra." Nimwen turned her horse and trotted back to Mahvir, Cassandra following. "Sorry we left you behind," she apologized once they caught up to them. "It didn't occur to me you couldn't ride as fast."
Mahvir looked up from All this Shit is Weird. "No harm done. It would just be unwise to trot and risk reopening the wound." He gave her a soft a smile. "I figured you two also needed time to talk. A lot happened this day."
"Next page!" Deceit demanded from atop his head.
He turned the page without looking back at the book.
"Move your head so I can still read."
"You move if you want to read," he retorted to the raven.
Deceit grumbled and shifted on his head so she could continue reading the book.
"How far are you?" Cassandra asked.
Nimwen grinned to herself, seeing how Cassandra was trying to hold in her excitement.
"You just apologized to Varric, if that is what you're wondering?" Mahvir tilted his head one side. "You know, he can't really write Solas or you too well," he stated. "Granted, I don't think most people understand half of what Solas says sometimes."
"I can't believe he put me in the book," Cassandra said quietly, a small smile on her face.
"I still can't believe he named it All this Shit is Weird," Nimwen chuckled. "It's hard when Lori wants to listen to mama's book but mama can't even say the title."
Mahvir chuckled. "And half the words in this book, I'd imagine. Especially when Sera and the Iron Bull are in the scene."
"Next page." Deceit snapped her beak in annoyance.
Mahvir turned the page though it would have been impossible for him to have read it.
"Yes, maybe we'll save it for when she's older," Nimwen said. The thought of Lori older, while it was an inevitable part of life, Nimwen couldn't imagine Lori as anything but her baby girl. She was only two, almost three, and Nimwen felt like she was growing up too fast. "Speaking of which, her birthday is in two months, and I still need to find her a present."
"Hmm." Mahvir snapped the book closed.
"Hey!" Deceit flapped her wings in anger. "I was still reading that!"
Mahvir ignored the demon raven. "I might be able to aid you there, Lady Nimwen. After we make camp, I will show you what I mean."
Nimwen raised her brow. "All right."
Her curiosity bubbled until they finally reached the clearing. It was a small one, but there was enough space for the horses and for them to sleep comfortably.
"Shall I get a fire going?" Nimwen asked as she dismounted. She was proud she managed to get off her horse without tangling her hook in the reins.
"I will help!" Vir straightened after helping Mahvir down from the horse. He eyes shining despite the rapid approaching darkness of night.
"Alright, you can help me gather wood," Nimwen said to him. "Cassandra, you handle the horses and get the bedrolls out."
"Very well."
"Mahvir, you can help her but I still want you to take it easy. If you feel like you need to sit down, you sit down. No 'buts,' mister."
Mahvir blinked. "I wouldn't dream of arguing with you, Lady Nimwen." He gave her an elegant bow. Then he moved off to help Cassandra with setting up the camp.
"Come along, Vir," Nimwen said to the sentinel.
By the time the two of them returned to the clearing with enough wood, the sun was a sliver on the horizon. Mahvir was seated before the ring of rocks Cassandra was just finishing making. Fear and Deceit had claimed the pillow of one of the bed rolls and were fast asleep, nested together for warmth.
"Cute," Nimwen said as she placed the wood on the ground. She sat beside Mahvir and began to arrange them in the middle of the rocks. "Makes you almost forget they're demons, huh?"
Mahvir chuckled. "Almost," he agreed, "until they smell food then you will remember."
"Are you sure they aren't demons of gluttony?"
"I assure you they're not Hunger Demons, Lady Nimwen. But they did posses ravens and thus need to eat to sustain themselves."
"How did you meet them, and why bind them to you?" Nimwen asked.
Mahvir looked at the ground. "It was right after the war with the Forgotten Ones ended," he started. "Falon and I were out exploring and we ran across a wounded halla. Falon decided to carry the halla to place where she could rest. Because of my frail body I was unable to follow him.
"It was the first time the two of us had been apart for so long and I grew worried as minutes turned to hours and then over a day passed. Two ravens came to me, knowing what I feared and thinking it would be a fun game to play tricks on me. After a time, I tricked them and ended up binding them to me. I ordered them to take me to my brother and they were forced to obey." His voice was hollow throughout this. He closed his eyes when he came to a close.
"And they've been with you since?" Nimwen asked. She'd finally gotten the logs arranged, and with a snap of her fingers a spark struck the wood.
"The way I bound them wasn't by means still known to this day. They are tied to my life. If one is struck down in battle they recover from it instead of dying as normal spirit would. There is no way to undo this binding. It had to be powerful in order to trick them and hold them," Mahvir explained. He pulled out a cloth and started to unwrap it. As it fell away it revealed an oddly shaped piece of wood just a little longer than Mahvir's hand was. Two holes had been started and the general shape reminded Nimwen of a torso of a best.
"What is that?" Nimwen asked.
"The start of a toy." Mahvir passed it to Nimwen. "Lorien liked the raven I had made awhile ago so I figured I would make her a better one, but a wolf this time around. I believe it will be completed in two months."
"That is so sweet," Nimwen smiled. She turned the piece of wood in her hand, and marvelled at its smoothness. "She'll love it. She loves wolves, you know?"
"I gathered as much. This one she will be able to move the legs and head of," he told her. "That's why I am carving out holes at the neck, shoulder and haunches." He pulled out another cloth. This one looked thicker. "You see, twenty centuries ago I didn't know what I was good at which didn't involve magic and learned to carve. I guess it's just gotten more complex until I could involve enchantments." He started to unwind the cloth.
"You must be quite talented," Nimwen said. "Before I discovered I was a mage, I felt like I didn't have any skills that could be useful to my clan. But then I learned to knit from my mother, and I thought I could help by making and mending clothes. Of course, then my magic manifested and I became the Keeper's First. I still kept knitting though."
The cloth fell away to reveal another under. Mahvir started to unwind this one.
"As we all know," Cassandra said, joining the two by the fire. "I still have the scarf you made."
"You kept that?" Nimwen balked. "But it was bad, I made it last minute."
The second cloth fell and there was a third.
"I quite enjoy it," Cassandra retorted, looking almost offended at Nimwen's dismissal of her skills. "It was touching that you went to the trouble of making us all scarves for Emprise du Leon."
The final cloth was unwound to reveal a delicate carving. It was a tiny, golden halla no bigger than Mahvir's hand. It looked almost like the real creature. From the twisting antlers and soft features of the face, the detail was smooth and elegant for such a small carving.
"It's beautiful," Nimwen gasped. She leaned closer to inspect the beautiful piece. "It reminds me of Hanal'ghilan."
"Watch." Mahvir stood and moved a safe distance from the fire. He placed the little halla on the ground. "Walk," he instructed.
The halla started walking. Its legs moved in smooth motions and a soft click, click came from it with every few steps.
"Run."
The halla raced forward. It leapt and bound like the larger, living one would.
"Turn left."
The halla obeyed.
"Stop."
The halla slowed to a walk then came to a stop.
"Attack."
The Halla's head moved down and it leapt forward. It went through several motions before coming to a stand still once more.
"That is incredible," Nimwen said as she watched the small halla in wonder.
"Is it some sort of magic?" asked Cassandra.
"Sort of." Mahvir picked up the halla. "I enchanted it but most of what makes the halla move is inside it. I'm not good with magic outside of small enhancements so I crafted these." He returned to his seat and pulled out small wooden objects from his bag. They were gears. Smaller and far more delicate than the metal ones Nimwen had seen before.
"All that movement came from these tiny things?" Nimwen asked. "I find it almost hard to believe. I bet Dagna would have had a ball taking a look at these."
"This is the only one right now." Mahvir looked at the halla. "I just finished figuring out how to get the gears and enchantments to mesh a few days before meeting you for the first time."
"You have quite the talent," Nimwen said. She handed the incomplete wolf back to Mahvir. "I admire it. I also fear what will happen when Lori discovers it. You will have a steady supply of toy requests, that's for certain," she smirked.
Mahvir chuckled. "I fear Lorien is a little too young for this toy. Children her age would try to eat the gears if they ever managed to break the wooden shell. Though, I did have Fear drop this one from about a mile in the air and it didn't affect it." He frowned. Then took Nimwen's hand and pressed the halla into it. "It's yours."
Nimwen blinked. "I...ma serannas." Her fingers curled around the halla and she put it in her pocket. "You are very thoughtful, Mahvir. And I have just the place for it."
His eyes softened as he looked at her. "I am glad you like it. What good is there in being able to make them if I can't just give them away?"
"I know, right? I knit all these things though I don't need any of them, given I don't get cold, and it's more enjoyable seeing others have them then just wearing them myself."
Mahvir pulled out a tool and started to work on the wolf body. "I understand… well, not the not getting cold part, but the joy in seeing another smile."
"Mahvir, what's your favorite color?"
"Guess?" He used the tool in small motions to dig out the wood from within the wolf.
Nimwen narrowed her eyes in concentration. "Hmm, well, I can't really think of what could be your favorite, but I think you would look best in… dark purple? The main part of the sweater can be that and I can add detailing in another if you want."
Mahvir stopped carving. "You needn't do that, Lady Nimwen."
Nimwen snorted. "Of course I don't need to, but I want to. It's been so long since I've knitted something for someone."
"Don't try to fight it," Cassandra told him from where she was cooking dinner. "It's easier to just go along with it."
"Thank you, Lady Nimwen." Mahvir bowed his head to her, his voice soft.
Nimwen smiled. "You're welcome, sweetie." As soon as she realized what she just said, she felt her cheeks grow red. In the moment, it felt like she'd been talking to Lori, and the endearment just slipped out. "Um…" 'Fantastic.'
Mahvir burst out laughing. He fell back onto the ground where he was continued roaring with laughter.
"Don't laugh!" Nimwen's face felt like it was on fire. She groaned, burying her face in her hand and hook. "I'm never going to live this down," she grumbled to herself.
Gasping for air, Mahvir managed to pull himself back into a sitting position. "I was wrong," he struggled to say between trying to breath and the joy still sparkling in his eyes, "you are nothing like Mythal. I am grateful to you, Nimwen."
Nimwen lifted her head. "I-hold on, you thought I was like Mythal?"
"Forgive me for thinking so. You reminded me of how she was with Falon'Din, her other sons, and her daughters. I see now my jumping to conclusions, despite my sight, was narrow minded of me. Never change who you are, Nimwen, for it is someone truly special."
"Ma serannas." It didn't escape her that Mahvir left himself out of his statement. "So long as you don't change either," Nimwen added. "The person you are right now, he's a very good person. Keep him."
The laughter died from his eyes to be replaced with pain. "Thank you, Nimwen."
Nimwen frowned. What happened? Did she say something wrong? 'Just when you get him to be happy, you have to ruin it,' she scolded herself.
"The food is ready," Cassandra called out. "Somebody should get that Vir boy."
"I can get him," Nimwen offered as she stood up. "You go get food, and you'd better eat it," she told Mahvir.
"I wasn't going to skip a meal," Mahvir gave her a quick smile. "Ir abelas, Lady Nimwen. I didn't meant to turn the subject depressing again. It isn't your fault."
"Food!" Fear leapt into the air from where he had been sleeping. "Food, food. food!"
"You woke me, oaf!" Deceit snapped. She flew after him. They landed close to the fire. Deceit looked up at Cassandra eyes wide and shining, she looked innocent.
"Food?" Fear tilted his head to one side.
"Make them a plate too, Cass," Nimwen said as she went to find Vir.
"You needn't worry about making them a plate, Seeker." Mahvir held up his hand. "They get by with eating my food. No need to give use more than needed."
Nimwen huffed, but made no move to argue. 'No need to upset him more,' she thought to herself. She'd let him have this one, but come their return to the city, there was going to be a Mahvir plate, and a birds' plate, no ifs, ands, or buts.
She walked towards the edge of the clearing, to look for where Vir went off to. "Vir?" she called out. The sentinel couldn't have gone far, even for a watch duty.
Movement a little further away caught Nimwen's eye.
"Vir?" Nimwen turned towards the sound. "Dinner is ready, you can take a break. I recommend we go before the ravens eat it all." Nimwen turned back towards the camp.
The soft sound of movement followed the words. A warm hand closed over her mouth and a strong arm wrapped around her chest. "Vhenan." The breath was warm against her ear.
Nimwen's eyes widened, and she felt her heart stop. The fight she had been ready to put up fizzled as soon as she heard that voice. She reached up and placed her trembling hand on the arm that held her.
"I am going to release you. Please, vhenan, don't call out." His hand slid from her mouth.
Even if she had the desire to cry out, there was a lump in her throat. Forcing herself to remain composed, she slowly turned to face him. "Solas," she managed to croak.
His soft, pained expression was almost lost in the darkness of the night. The only reason she could see it was because of the distant fire despite the fact they were beyond the reach of the light. He pulled back from her. "What ravens?" he asked, voice just as laden with sorrow as the last time they had spoken.
Nimwen's eyes widened. No. He wasn't supposed to know about Mahvir. Not yet. "Garas quenathra?" she asked, trying to keep her voice composed.
"Are there two ravens here, vhenan?" he sounded almost stern and in the same moment worried. There was a note of fear clinging to each word.
"What are you doing here, Solas?" Nimwen demanded. This was a dangerous line she walked. She had to keep from revealing the truth about Mahvir, even though she wanted nothing more than for Solas to know about his child. About both his children.
"I was following a blood trail which led to fresh tracks and it led me here," Solas informed her. "Vhenan, if there are two ravens here, the elf who is with them is extremely dangerous. You must tell me if they're here."
Nimwen tried to find words, but they stuck in her throat like clay. What was she to say? "I can handle myself just fine," she answered. It was a poor response, and she knew it.
Solas moved back a little. "Not from him," he stated. "He is one of them, vhenan. One of the evunaris. Don't let his frailty trick you. He holds far more power than you can imagine. He is dangerous."
Something snapped. "How dare you," her voice was barely a whisper. "How dare you stand there and say that, when that was exactly what you were doing since the day we met. You held more power than I could have ever imagined, you let me believe you were just an ordinary mage, you were, are, more dangerous than bloody Corypheus.
"You were one of them too, Solas, and you have the gall to stand there and warn me about him?!" Nimwen screeched. "You justify it by saying you don't agree with what they did, but did it ever occur to you, you weren't alone? That there was another who felt the same, but didn't have the strength to speak up? Did you, Solas?!
"Don't give me that shit. You're many things vhenan, but I'd hoped I wouldn't have to add hypocrite among them." Nimwen huffed, feeling like she'd just ran a marathon.
Solas stared at her. His eyes wide. For a long moment, they stood apart in silence. Then, Solas backed away from her. "Ir abelas, I won't presume next time."
"Wait." A pit formed in Nimwen's stomach. He couldn't leave, not now, not like this. "Please, ma vhenan, don't leave. Talk to me."
Solas paused, his head bowed. For a heartbeat it looked as if he was going to turn towards her. He didn't.
Instead, he spoke in a quiet voice, "Dirthamen is the least well known of the evanuris for a reason. But his ability to manipulate events to his desired outcome is unmatched. Nothing escapes his sight. It is a lesson I still seem to be learning." Solas started forward once more.
"Please, Solas, listen to me," Nimwen begged.
Tears swam in her vision as she ran forward. She let out a sob as her arms went around him. A part of her felt complete, holding him again. But she only had one hand that could feel him, and it felt armor instead of a sweater.
"Mala vir aravas. Ara ma'desen melar," she whispered, clutching to him as her cheeks grew wet. "Irassal ma ghilas, ara ma'athlan, ma vhenan. Ma Fen'nehn." Yes, no matter what happened, no matter the course fate's current took her down, she would forever be bound to him. Even with her hand gone, his mark was still upon her. "Listen, Solas, I need to tell you something." He needed to know. "You have a place in this world, you could have a life. You need to know that you have a-"
Nimwen gasped, and felt the world around her grow cold.
Her arms were wrapped around empty air. Solas was gone.
"Solas? Solas?!" She spun around looking, desperate to find a trace of him.
But, he was gone, and she was alone. Just like in that glade in Crestwood. Just like in the ruins where Corypheus was slain. Just like in the elven ruins. He still didn't know. She didn't feel her knees give out as she collapsed on them.
She didn't feel the cool earth beneath her hand as it presses into the ground. She had gone numb, but for one sensation. There was an utter hollowness where her heart should have been. For her heart was gone once more. She let out a scream, a violent, primal wail that was the crescendo to all the years of turmoil she'd endured. When she felt her voice break, she dissolved into horse weeps that shook her frame.
* ~ x ~ *
The light breeze stopped. In the distance, the fire was no longer flickering. Instead it remained frozen.
Solas eased himself from Nimwen's arms. Nimwen still stood where she had been. She wasn't moving, locked in a moment in time. The world was still, devoid of movement, sound; life.
"Dirthamen!" Solas called into the darkness around him. He turned, feeling the grasses resist the movement. They moved, but no sound came from them. The world echoed with silence. His voice seemed to shatter it. "What have you done?"
"Given you the chance to leave without hurting Lady Nimwen further." Dirthamen's voice was soft. He was close by, but the darkness of night would conceal him in as dark of clothing he wore.
"Show yourself." Solas's hand moved to his staff.
"It would be rather pointless to attack when we are frozen in time." Dirthamen limped into Solas's view. He stayed a good few feet from Nimwen and even further from Solas.
Solas's eyes narrowed. The only reason he could see Dirthamen was because his sight cut through the darkness of the night and there was just enough light from the fire to outline the man. This time Solas was able to notice Dirthamen didn't just seem different, but looked it. His skin was drawn, eyes hollow with fatigue. It was clear, in this moment, he had been awake for twenty centuries.
Perhaps not all was lost yet. Solas could-
"You could take my power and my knowledge," Dirthamen confirmed. "I wouldn't stop you. But, know this, my power isn't one which is easily controlled and you would feel consent pain."
Solas narrowed his eyes. For all he knew, Dirthamen was just saying this to deter him from trying.
"If you do this then you must ask yourself, how are you any different than us? You'd be consolidating your power for the purpose of destroying the world. At least, though blinded by greed and lust for power, it was never their intention to destroy the world."
Solas scowled. "Whether or not it was intentional, all of you were killing the People, enslaving them out of entitlement. There would have been no hope at restoring any of it if I hadn't formed the Veil."
"And tearing it down, no matter your plans, will free the others." Dirthamen's voice was calm.
"All the better for you then. You can be with Falon'Din again."
"Assuming I want to be near him again."
The words caught Solas by surprise. "You and he were always together," the words were spoken in numb shock.
"A lot happened behind the scenes, unbeknownst to the People and to you. No one is all knowing and the truth of what happened back then is far darker than even you know."
"Darker than you killing your own mother?!" Solas growled.
"Mythal's fate was as unavoidable as was you creating the Veil to stop the others."
"You don't know that."
Dirthamen looked Solas in the eye. "You, of all people, should know that's not true."
For a moment, Solas was silent as he looked his nephew in the eye. In the darkness of night Dirthamen's eyes looked black as the darkness of the Abyss. "So, you aided them in killing her. I saw you there and, even if it was unavoidable, why would you help them?"
"That is for you to remember, Solas."
Annoyance flared in Solas. As far as answers went, this one was just as helpful as if Dirthamen hadn't spoken at all. "What are you doing?" Solas changed the subject to a more pressing issue. "Why are you with Nimwen?"
"To stop you from repeating the past. Fear not, Solas, I will never harm her. Once you come to your senses, both you and she will never hear from me again."
"I am to believe you would vanish and never try anything. What assurances is there you won't try to take control of this world? Enslave all of its people like you did with Elvhenan."
"If that was my intention, I've had ample time to do so and haven't. Do I look like a man who has everything? The world bending to his slightest whim. What you've seen of this world, does it point to me being its sole ruler?"
The simple answer to that was "no." Solas eyed Dirthamen, his shabby clothing could easily be a disguise, but the thinness of his body? How pale and ill he looked? No, this couldn't be faked. Even still, it didn't change who he was or what he had done. The fact remained he had stood by his father and brother and - Solas stopped and stared at Dirthamen.
What had he just warned Nimwen about? That Dirthamen was good at manipulating everything. Out of every one of the evanuris, Dirthamen was the only one who Solas could never beat at any game of strategy. Dirthamen's mind coupled with his foresight made him the worst of all possible opponents to have. If one took away his foresight, he was still a genius tactician as he had proven as a child before his magic had come.
"Go," Dirthamen stated.
"Nimwen-"
"You're not ready and will only hurt her more the longer you remain."
Solas's jaw tightened.
"If you ever believed anything I told you, if you ever once liked me, then believe me when I tell you I will never harm her. But you are going to hurt her all the more if you remain and leave later. You are not ready."
"For what?"
"The truth."
Solas took a step towards Dirthamen. He could overpower Dirthamen with ease. His nephew was far frailer than he had ever been before. Yet, the power he would have after twenty centuries without the long sleep. Twenty centuries of being all he had ever been, made Solas wary. There was no denying the fact Dirthamen would be far, far more powerful than even Mythal had been.
"If you hurt her in any way-" Solas let the threat hang.
Dirthamen bowed his head. "I will throw myself off a cliff and deny Fear access to my body."
That would have to do.
Solas turned to Nimwen. His heart tightened. He moved to touch her tear streaked face but stopped. Touching her might harm her. When he had moved from her embrace, he could have easily hurt her then as well.
His heart twisted. He was being denied the right to say "goodbye." Solas shot a glare towards Dirthamen. "No matter what, you will be stopped just like the others."
"I know you will hunt me to the ends of Thedas." Dirthamen bowed his head. "No matter the outcome of your attempts to destroy this world. I know you will never stop hunting me, hating me. And I will never stop running from you."
Solas backed away from Dirthamen and Nimwen. Only once he was certain they couldn't see him did he turn and head to where Melda waited for him. The breeze struck him as a sharp return to the normal time flow. Solas felt as if the air had been sucked from his lungs. He forced himself to keep walking even as he heard Nimwen's cry of agony rip through the night. He closed eyes.
"Ir abelas, ma vhenan."
* ~ x ~ *
The soft sound of a staff against the grasses came. Nimwen heard someone kneel down and felt a warm hand against her back. "Lady Nimwen." Mahvir's voice was soft.
Nimwen flung her arms around his neck. She pulled him into an embrace and cried into the tattered remains of his robe.
Mahvir placed his arm around her. He didn't speak, didn't try to console her. All he did was offer comfort in his presence.
"Did you find her?"
Nimwen looked up, eyes still teary. She saw the blurred form of Cassandra running towards them, a smaller blur that Nimwen assumed to be Vir following.
"What happened?" Cassandra demanded as she knelt before the elves.
Nimwen was silent, words had abandoned her.
"Nimwen?" The worry and fear on the Seeker's face was etched like a sculpture. "What's wrong? Is she hurt?" She asked Mahvir.
"Only in her heart, Seeker." Mahvir's voice was soft.
"But what happened?" The Seeker repeated. "We heard her screaming."
"Sometimes pain of the heart is worse than any physical wound. I suspect when she left to find Vir, she found someone else instead." Mahvir shifted a little, moving his left leg from where he had been placing weight on it.
"Cass." Nimwen's voice was still hoarse and scratched her throat. She did her best to sound reassuring. "It's all right."
"Can you make it back to camp?" Mahvir asked. "While, I know you don't get cold, the warmth of the fire might help ease the pain."
"Yes." Nimwen rose to her feet. The fire sounded nice, for once she actually felt cold. "Let's go."
Mahvir rose to his feet as well. "Let's."
Garas quenathra - Why are you here?
Mala vir aravas. Ara ma'desen melar - Your path journeys. But I will hold you here.
Irassal ma ghilas, ara ma'athlan, ma vhenan. - Wherever you shall go, I call you, my heart.
Ma Fen'nehn - My wolf of joy.