Disclaimer: Dragon Age is owned by Bioware and EA games.

Warning: There are spoilers from Dragon Age: Inquisition: Trespasser in this book, seeing as it takes place one month after the events of the DLC. If you don't want to see them, then don't read this book.

HenenyaHope: -

Flamewing80: I am one of the two writers working on this story. I write Solas, Mahvir, the two ravens, and a few odd characters here and there. Some of this story draws from my solo fan-fiction Final Hour much like it draws from Henenya's solo fan-fiction His Homecoming. If you like this story please check out those two stories.

Both: We hope you enjoy this story. Follows, favs, and reviews are loved.

Chapter 1:

"Mama, why the sky blue?"

"It's what happens when the sun reflects on the rain droplets."

"But it sunny! No rain."

"There is always rain in the sky, da'len. Even if you can't see it."

Lori looked up at her mother, pouting. "That don't make sense, mama."

Nimwen chuckled. "There's a lot of things that may not make sense, Lori, but this doesn't mean they aren't real."

The two elves were enjoying a stroll outside the gates of Val Royeaux. After the Inquisition decided to serve the Chantry, Nimwen assumed her duties would lesson given she had less than half of her numbers left. The opposite was true, and unfortunately it left little time for the walks she and Lori enjoyed taking together. The toddler had been confused when she was told they were leaving Skyhold. It had been all she'd ever known, but Nimwen assured her that where they were going was going to be exciting and new. The sights and wonders of the city made for a much easier adjustment for Lori, perhaps easier than her mother's.

"Carry me, mama," Lori asked, tugging on the hand that held hers.

Nimwen stiffened. Just then a gust of wind passed over them. It made the sleeve of her stump arm flutter about, as if the winds were mocking her. Since she lost her arm it made once simple things difficult. She could still hold Lori, for the girl weighed next to nothing, but she had to be sitting in a chair in order to get the right grip. She could no longer kneel down and scoop the girl off her feet, like she had done a thousand times before.

"We can stop later if you're tired," Nimwen responded.

Lori sighed. "But I want you carry me." She looked up at Nimwen with wide, halla-eyes. "Please, mama?"

Nimwen swallowed. "Not right now, da'len. Maybe later."

Lori looked down. "Okay," she mumbled, disappointed.

The two continued to walk down the path, hand in hand, and Nimwen did her best not to let her child see the sadness in her eyes. A simple thing like being able to carry her daughter whenever she pleased was gone, just like her arm was gone. So many things were now gone.

The pathway they were on opened up into a beautiful clearing. On a bright, warm day such as this, it wasn't uncommon to see a few people out. However, today the clearing appeared empty at first glance. On a second glance, she saw a cloaked figure stood in the center of the clearing. The clothing looked like layers, upon layers of torn and tattered rags falling over even shabbier robes. All of the clothes were dark, shades of gray and black. In the figure's right hand was clutched a roughly carved staff. The staff didn't appear to be a magical one, but this didn't mean anything.

Soft sound came from the person. A whistle, lighter than the wind and just as elegant. The sound wove almost as words through the air. The next moment wings fluttered behind Nimwen. A raven flew over her, its talons grazing the top of her head. The bird gave an indigent sounding caw, eyes flashing at her before he twisted and flew over to the figure. The raven landed on the figure's shoulder, beak nipping at the edge of the figure's hood.

"Lookit, mama," Lori squealed, jumping up and down. "Pretty bird!" she said, pointing to the creature.

"Yes, pretty bird," Nimwen grumbled, rubbing her head where the bird swiped her.

Normally she would have brushed such an incident off, but her mood was already sour, not to mention the presence of her daughter had her maternal instincts kicking in. She marched over to the hooded figure, still holding Lori's hand.

"Excuse me?" she called, voice clipped but still civil. "I would appreciate it if you kept your bird under control, it swooped at my daughter and I."

The figure turned to her and bowed. "My apologies, my lady," his voice was smooth and elegant. By his height, he had to be an elf. "Fear tends to enjoy aggravating people whenever he can." The man turned his head to the bird. "Apologize to her."

The raven cocked his head, gave an almost arrogant sound as he flipped his wings.

"Apologize," the man's voice was a little more stern.

The raven looked at Nimwen, eyes the color of burning coals. Then the raven bowed its head to her, the caw it made was almost akin to an apology.

"It talk!" Lori said, taking her hand away from Nimwen to clap.

"He is a smart bird," Nimwen replied. It reminded her a bit of Baron Plucky and the rest of Leliana's birds. Visions of black feathers and the echoes of caws and fluttering wings filled her mind for the briefest of moments, and her heart panged.

"I pet?" Lori asked, reaching up.

"Lori, don't be rude," Nimwen said, taking her daughter's hand. "Sorry," she said to the elven man.

"It is for the best she doesn't. Fear doesn't tend to like people."

The raven snapped its beak as if to agree with the man.

A shadow passed over them. Another raven, this one a beautiful white, landed on the top of the man's staff. He looked up at it and it looked down at him. This raven's eyes were a crisp, icy blue. A color Nimwen had never seen a raven have before.

"Pretty," Lori said in awe. "What bird name?"

"This is Deceit." The man looked at them. "I named them after the legends of Dirthamen's two ravens."

Fear snapped his beak, indigent.

"Though, in hindsight, naming them after demons wasn't my brightest idea."

"Feefee, Deedee," Lori said pointing to the two birds.

Fear dropped his beak in utter shock. On the staff tip, Deceit gave several short caws which sounded an awful lot like laughter.

Nimwen chuckled nervously as she tried to get a read on this man. The only ones in Nimwen's experience who remembered the names of Dirthamen's ravens were Dalish, but she couldn't hear any hint of an accent on him. Also any man who would name his pets after fear and deceit could not be just an average elf. This man and his birds were different, and Nimwen found her curiosity piqued.

"Where did you learn of Dirthamen's ravens? It's not very well known."

The man's eyes crinkled a little to show he was smiling. In the shadows of his hood his eyes appeared black as the moonless night. "I've sought much of our People's lore. Spoken with those Dalish Clans willing to exchange knowledge and traveled most of southern Thedas. I learned of the ravens' names in an ancient ruin on the Exalted Plains."

Nimwen's blood ran cold. Those words, not the same and yet so familiar. It was like she was back in Haven, a lifetime ago, when she first sat down and had a discussion with-

"Mama?" Lori asked.

Nimwen blinked, drawn back to the present. "Yes, da'len?" she asked, looking down at Lori.

"You make face, arm hurt?" Lori asked.

Nimwen sighed. "No, no, my arm is fine. Ma serannas, sweetie."

"My mama got hurt," Lori said to the stranger. "Now her arm gone and it hurt-"

"Lori," Nimwen shushed her, her cheeks warm. She'd rather her daughter not divulge her personal life to a stranger. "Sorry, Lori likes to share."

Fear nipped at the man's hood.

"As children should. An innocent heart is something to be thankful for, even in one so young." The man's eyes were soft as he looked down at Lori. He turned his dark gaze back to Nimwen. "Forgive me, my lady, I didn't mean to drag up old memories."

"No, no it's fine. Sometimes we can't help when things get brought up," Nimwen assured him. "My name is Nimwen," she said. "Who are you?"

"A far more interesting question than one realizes when asking." The man's eyes sparkled with a smile. "Who I am isn't a name, but if it is a name you seek, I am called Mahvir."

"Aneth ara, Mahvir," Nimwen said. In the back of her mind, the way he spoke reminded her of somebody.

"I Lori!" the little girl beamed. "Where you get birds, Mahvy?"

"Andaran atish'an, Lori and Nimwen." Mahvir bowed his head. He then looked at the ravens. "I tricked them into my service," his voice was light. It almost sounded like he was joking and, in the same moment, he sounded serious.

Nimwen's eyes widened. "Pardon?"

"That not nice," Lori pouted. "Trick bad."

The man chuckled. "Forgive me, I tend to joke about such matters since that is how Dirthamen managed to get the original Fear and Deceit."

Fear snapped his beak, feathers ruffled and eyes blazing.

Deceit prenned.

"Aunt Lilly had birdies," Lori said. "She let me pet."

"Lori, he already said you can't pet them," Nimwen reminded the girl. Lori puffed her cheeks, and gave a tiny, frustrated scowl that reminded Nimwen so much of-

'Stop it,' she chided herself.

"Why I no pet them?" Lori asked Mahvir. "They no like pet?"

The man hesitated and looked from Lori to the birds. "Ravens are carrion birds," he started. "Their very nature is to be aggressive, mean. These two more than others. I don't even try to pet them."

"And, yet, they seem so well behaved," Nimwen joked, looking at the two birds perched on their master.

Fear fluffed out his feathers, looking almost proud on Mahvir's shoulder. Deceit shook out its feathers and gave a short caw to Fear. Fear cawed back, feathers now fluffed in rage rather than pride.

"If you two want to fight, take it elsewhere," Mahvir told the birds. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "They're worse than siblings, I swear."

Nimwen chuckled. "Have experience?" she asked.

He grimaced. "More than I care to admit." He looked at them, eyes crinkled in a smile once more. "My apologies Fear disrupted your walk, my lady."

"It's fine, city life has been a bit dull I'm afraid. If it takes a raven swooping on me to liven things up, I'll take it," Nimwen said. "So, what brings you to Val Royeaux?"

"News," was all he said in reply.

"Good or bad?" she inquired.

"In general. Spending so much time alone in the wilderness cuts one off from the day to day happenings of society. The last time I managed to get an update was when the Breach was still in the sky, some two years ago now."

"Beach!" Lori exclaimed. "Mama beat beach."

"It's Breach," Nimwen corrected her.

"My mama a hero," Lori grinned up at Nimwen, pride in her little face.

The mage smiled back, her heart warm.

"A rare and noble title to have, especially when given from one's child," the man stated. "There are too few heroes in the world and too many out for their own gain."

Deceit snapped its beak.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Nimwen replied. "And for those who aren't corrupted, the world changes its mind about them. You're their Herald one minute, and then they want you gone the next." She rubbed her forehead. "Sorry, I can't believe I'm saying this all to a stranger."

The man's gaze was sad. He bowed his head. "It's quite alright, Lady Nimwen." He looked up at Deceit.

The raven cocked its head before launching into the air. A rustle of feathers and the bird soon vanished into the distance. Fear remained perched on Mahvir's shoulder.

"I hope we may meet again." He bowed his head to her, causing Fear to caw in annoyance and flap his wings to remain on his perch.

"As do I," Nimwen replied, giving him a small smile. She looked down at Lori. "Come on, da'len, we had better get back before your Aunt Cass throws a fit wondering where we are."

Lori giggled. "Aunt Cass funny."

"Not when she's fussing," Nimwen responded. She went to take Lori's hand.

"Nu-uh, I want carry, you promise," Lori said.

Nimwen groaned. She would have, but there was nothing in the clearing to sit on, and if she sat on the ground there was no way she could get back up with Lori in her arm. "I'm sorry, Lori. Maybe some other time."

"If it isn't overstepping and you would permit, I could pass you the little one," Mahvir said from where he had been watching them.

Nimwen blinked. "You wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all." He eyes sparkled with the smile.

"W-well, I don't see...sure," Nimwen stuttered.

"Yay!" Lori cheered.

Mahvir lowered his staff to the ground as he knelt. Fear snapped his beak and took off, landing on the ground nearby to watch them with eyes akin to flame.

Nimwen watched as Mahvir carefully picked up Lori and stood. He helped Nimwen get a hold of the little girl and only stepped back when Nimwen's grip was secure.

Nimwen felt content once Lori was in her hold. It was a little thing that made it feel like things were back to normal: almost. "Thank you," she said to Mahvir. "You are very kind."

"My pleasure." Mahvir bowed to her. He knelt and picked up his staff. The moment he was upright, Fear returned to his shoulder in a fluttering of black feathers. "I wish you well, Lady Nimwen, da'Lori." His eyes showed a softness of a smile. Then his gaze turned to the sky, his attention no longer on them.

"Come on then, da'fen, time to go home," Nimwen said to Lori.

"We go back Sky?" Lori asked.

Nimwen's smile faultered. "No, no, Lori. Val Royeaux is home now, remember?"

Lori frowned. "Nuh-uh. Home is castle, with everybody."

"Come on, Lori. Aunt Cass is waiting," Nimwen said quietly. She looked back to Mahvir. "Dareth shiral, lethallin."

Mahvir looked at her and bowed his head. "Safe journey, da'len."

Nimwen turned away from the clearing, the dreaded Val Royeaux looming over her. Lori was right. Even if she remained there for the rest of her days, the Orleasian capital would never be their home.