AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello lovelies! Sorry it's been so long since the last update, but we've got the goods for you darlings. SHOUTOUTS GO OUT TO: ZenithofDarkness and everyone else who's favorite and followed this fic.

Chapter 4:

The sun was bright were the group was situated to have lunch. Mahvir was seated beside Nimwen on her other side from Lorien. It was a little strange to be at a table again for food. The last time he had been at a table had been as slave and he hadn't eaten there at all.

"Lori, don't play with your food," Nimwen said.

Instead of eating her sandwich, the little girl had been busy digging her finger into it. "It squishy," Lorien giggled.

"That's because it's cream cheese, and it's much better when it's in your tummy," Nimwen said.

Lorien sighed. "Okay." And with that, the child proceeded to stuff half her sandwich into her mouth, making cream cheese and cucumbers spill onto her dress.

"I can't win," Nimwen sighed as she used a napkin to clean the mess from her daughter's clothes.

Lorien, unfazed by the mess, giggled and looked at Mahvir. "Look, Mahvy, I chipunk," she grinned, cheeks full of food.

"I can see that." He smiled at the girl.

A flutter of wings came from above. As he had warned Nimwen, Fear and Deceit appeared landing on the table and helping themselves to Mahvir's plate.

"Birdies!" Lorien squealed, causing chewed up sandwich to get on her chin.

"Lori, swallow before you talk or you will choke," Nimwen said, wiping her child's face.

Lorien swallowed and then reached out with grabby hands towards the birds. "Pretty," she cooed. She began to make chirping and hooting noises at the two ravens.

Fear glanced up from his meal before he snapping his beak in indigence at the child and returning to ripping apart the sandwich Mahvir had only managed to eat half of. Deceit, on the other hand, looked at Lorien with interest, her blue eyes shining as she looked at Lorien's food.

"Deceit, you have my food, don't even think about eating the girl's," Mahvir scolded her.

"I hope you had enough to eat before the vultures came in," Nimwen said. "There's plenty more if you're still hungry."

"Whatever I eat they get half of, it's just the way it is," Mahvir explained. "My thanks for the offer but I fear if I took more these two would be greedy." He glared at Deceit who had cocked her to one side in a pleading gesture. Besides it was always strange just being given food or stealing it. He preferred to physically earn his meals.

"It would be no problem to get enough for all three of you," Nimwen said. "If you change your mind just ask."

"Pretty co," Lorien said, looking at the birds.

"Those aren't crows, da'len, they're ravens," Nimwen said. "You remember the ravens at Skyhold, don't you?"

"Uh-uh, we got lots," Lorien told Mahvir. "They sleep at top of tower, 'bove the pretty pictures an' books."

"I see." Mahvir could see it as if he stood there. The tower with the images so lovingly painted. A place of reading and finally where the ravens would roost. "I doubt these two would have done well in such a place. They barely share the food I give them."

As if on some unspoken order, Fear leapt at Deceit. His talons dug into her wing as they fought over the scraps. She went low and hit him in the belly with her beak. Fear shrieked and flapped, eyes wild with rage.

Mahvir sighed. "Enough!" At once the two birds went flying, both letting out alarmed cries. They managed to regain balance and glared at Mahvir.

"They make quite a pair," Nimwen joked.

"No fight!" Lorien scolded the two birds, waving her tiny finger at them. "Rude!"

Deceit bowed her head, one wing covering her beak in an almost shameful gesture. All the while Mahvir saw the demon of a bird eyeing Lorien's food.

Fear cocked his head, flipping his wings and snapping his beak as if telling the girl off for telling him off. Which he most likely was since Mahvir was able to mute their ability to talk when around others.

Lorien stuck her tongue out at Fear, flapping her hands in an imitation of his wings.

"Lori, don't poke at him," Nimwen urged the girl.

Fear's feather's rose in rage. He leapt at the girl.

Mahvir lifted his hand.

Fear stopped, frozen inchs from Lorien with his talons extended.

Mahvir flicked his wrist. The next moment time reversed around the bird and he was back on the table feathers fluffed. Fear blinked, feathers falling flat. He turned to Mahvir and cawed a few times before leaping into the air landing on Mahvir's shoulder.

Nimwen blinked. "What was that?" she asked confused. "What did you do just now?"

"Per our bond, the ravens can't disobey me. Hurting Lorien would have disobeyed me and thus he couldn't touch her," Mahvir said. It wasn't a full lie, but he shuddered inside at the fact it was still a lie. But how could he explain he could only use time magic. That his abilities were the reason he was sickly and frail, that- he cut off the train of thought.

"Hmm, if that's the case, then couldn't you order them not to take your food?" Nimwen asked, brow raised in curiosity.

"You could try," Fear whispered in Mahvir's ear. "Try to, little elf."

"I would rather not kill them," Mahvir laughed. "They're welcome to my food. Deceit!" he snapped just as Deceit was about to take an offering from Lorien.

"But she nice," Lorien said, looking at them innocently with a piece of bread in her palm.

"She's not called Deceit because the name is pretty, Lorien," Mahvir told the girl. "She has a habit of playing people to get what she wants."

Lorien cocked her head to the side, as if pondering his words. "So...no bread?"

"No bread or she'll start whittling you until it's all your lunch." Mahvir bowed his head to Nimwen. "My apologies. Next time I will eat elsewhere so these two don't try anything."

"No it's fine, they are no less hectic than this one," Nimwen said, pointing to Lorien. "Speaking of which, could I ask you something, Mahvir?"

Mahvir smiled at her. He hoped she hadn't noticed he had somehow known Lorien's full name. "Anything." Though, he suspected…

"How did you know Lori's full name?"

Fear pecked him in the head. "Screw up. Old age makes you a screw up." The bird took the sky cawing, "Screw up, screw up," over and over again.

Mahvir rubbed his head where Fear had pecked him. Damn demon of a bird. "Lucky guess," he grumbled, head pounding with the echoing of the pain from Fear's beak.

"Is that it, I thought you didn't believe in luck?" Nimwen retorted.

"I don't. Lori had to be a nickname so I picked the prettiest of the options. I could have just as easily gotten it wrong."

Deceit clawed her way onto his shoulder. Now that Fear had flown off, laughing at Mahvir, it was her rightful perch and she was going to claim it as such. She held her head high to show all it was her's now.

"Sweet talk won't work on me-" Nimwen's eyes widened, and she got the strangest look on her face. She quickly blinked and shook her head. "N-never mind," she grumbled.

"You think my name pwetty?" Lorien asked, eyes round.

"The prettiest of them all." Mahvir smiled at the girl but eyed Nimwen. It was clear she had been thinking of another, far smoother of a talker than Mahvir when she'd addressed him. He knew he looked nothing like Solas but the time he had spent with the ancient elf might have shown in his actions. He wasn't one of the Solas's agents, far from it. But still… there were secrets best left buried in the past.

Lorien giggled and clapped her hands. "I like you," she said. "Mama, we keep him?"

"Mahvir is not a pet, Lori," Nimwen reminded the girl.

Lorien looked at Mahvir. "You stay, pleeeeeeeease? Birdies too?" She blinked halla-eyes at him, lip quivering in a clear guilt trip.

At this, he laughed and teased, "You can keep me as long as I can keep you, Lorien."

Deceit glared at the girl.

Lorien did not notice this, though. Instead she squealed, jumped up from her seat, and toddled over to Mahvir. She got into his lap, and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Yay! You be brother!"

Mahvir felt his blood grow cold at the word.

"L-Lori," Nimwen sputtered. "That's not how it works."

"Mahvy brother!" Lorien pouted at her mother.

Again she said it. His heart skipped a beat as unwanted images flashed into his mind from the last person to call him "brother:"

Another elf stood across from him, a long dagger held in his hand. Blood dripped from the dagger's tip. "It's nothing personal, brother," he spat the word. "It's high time I ruled alone." His yellow eyes flashed, lips curled in a sneer.

Mahvir shook himself. The past was the past!

"Mahvir? Mahvir, are you alright?" Nimwen's cool hand touched his shoulder.

"Ir abelas." Mahvir managed a weak smile. "I'm fine."

"Mahvy look sad?" Lorien asked. She squeezed her arms around him tighter, nuzzling his chest. "I hug you so no be sad."

"Hugs cure all sorrows." Mahvir touched the girl's blond hair. "Especially ones with intent to." He smiled at her. The sudden pain at seeing that moment again hidden behind a facade of a smile.

Lorien beamed up at him. "Mama say when people sad, they get hugs. She say happy people get hugs to, so we gotta hug everybody."

"Your mother is a wise woman." Mahvir looked at Nimwen. "My thanks to the both of you." He lifted Lorien off his lap. "Excuse me." He bowed to them before he started off.

"Fear will feel that pain," Deceit warned him.

"I should listen to your warnings? The last time I did I needed up neck deep in quilbacks."

Deceit laughed. "Ah, such fun. You are gullible sometimes, Dirthamen."

He scowled. "Mahvir," he corrected her.

"None but you can understand myself and Fear. What does it matter what we call you?"

"It matters to me."

Deceit touched her head to his. "You are always running. Run, run, little elf. No one will notice." She took off from his shoulder to follow Fear wherever he had gone.

"Wait!"

"Lori, stop!"

Mahvir turned to the girl and Nimwen. The next moment he found himself gasping as in pain when the girl had tripped him by hugging his legs. The two of them ended up on the ground as a result.

"Lorien Lavellan, you are in so much-oh, ir abelas, Mahvir, she just took off and she's so fast-"

"Why you leave, Mahvy?" Lorien asked, oblivious to the pain she'd caused him.

Mahvir struggled to both regain his breath and not hurt the child as h fought for air.

"Lori, what have I said about running off without me?" Nimwen scolded. She reached down and grabbed the girl with her one arm, holding her like a sack. "We are going to have a talk, young lady."

"But-but I no want Mahvy to leave," Lorien said as she looked up at her mother.

"Da'len, Mahvir is an adult and he can leave whenever he wants to," Nimwen told her. She looked back at Mahvir. "Once again, I am so sorry. I hope she didn't hurt you."

While Nimwen had been scolding her daughter, Mahvir had pulled himself into a sitting position. Talons had locked around his lungs. He just sat there focusing on taking as much air in and trying to breath out just as much. He managed to wave his hand dismissively at Nimwen's words, but couldn't speak for lack of air.

Nimwen eyed him. "Mahvir?" She placed Lorien on the ground and knelt beside Mahvir. "Mahvir, are you alright?"

He took out one of the plants and placed it in his mouth. He sucked in the juice. At once the talons loosened around his chest. He took a deep breath. "Please stop worrying every time I have an attack, Lady Nimwen," He smiled at her. "It's no different than when people fuss over you. Except mine is bad lungs."

"Yes, something that unlike my stump, can prove fatal." Nimwen sighed. "Ir abelas, I can't help it. I've always been a bit doting and now a days there are very few people left who seem to need my care. You've become my next victim, I suppose," she chuckled softly.

"Just don't call me 'son.'" Mahvir muttered to himself

"What was that? I didn't hear you," Nimwen asked.

"I'm fine, Lady Nimwen." Mahvir used his staff to pull himself to his feet. "I just have to prove it to you I can handle myself despite my," he paused, "disability. And I will do just that."

"I have no doubt you can handle yourself," Nimwen quickly assured him. "Just, I am a worrier, that's what I do. I apologize if I seem to doting."

"I suppose it makes for a change." It did too, the last person who had worried about him had ended up throwing him in a lake as a joke and flirting… women, who could figure them? "Just don't punish Lorien. She meant well. And it's hard to tell what sets off one of those attacks. Deceit has set them off before by mistake." He leaned against his staff. His leg ached and right then sleep was starting to sound good. He had been up for the past two nights. Last night because he couldn't sleep and the night before trying to avoid nightmares.

Nimwen sighed. "Very well, but you," she turned to Lorien. "Don't run off again, okay? When I say stop, you stop. Understand?"

"Yeah, mama," Lorien nodded.

"Okay then." Nimwen leaned down and kissed Lorien's forehead. "I don't want to lose you in a crowd, sweetie."

"Love you, mama," Lorien said, hugging Nimwen around the neck.

Nimwen chuckled. "Love you too, da'len," she responded, giving her child a one armed hug.

Mahvir watched them. To them he would look only thoughtful rather than sad. He wondered if Solas would ever know just how lucky he was or if he could see that this time he would have gotten it right if he could just see beyond his goals?

"You know," Mahvir started, "if you shifted Lorien from that position you could pick her up that way."

"What?" Nimwen blinked. She looked down at hers and Lorien's position, and realization hit her. "I think you're right."

"Try it," Mahvir urged her. This was just what she would need to encourage her she could still do anything as long as she put her mind to it. "Lorien, try to hold still, okay?" he asked the girl.

"Okay," Lorien replied.

"Just hold on, I'm going to pick you up," Nimwen said. She lowered her arm and began to lift up Lorien. Immediately Lorien's legs went around her waist and her arms tightened around her neck. It took a moment for Nimwen to gain her balance, but she eventually got it and was able to stand, Lorien in her arm. "I-I did it," she gasped.

"Yay, go mama," Lorien cheered, giving her mother a peck on the cheek.

A grin broke out onto Nimwen's face, the happiest Mahvir had seen her since he met her.

"Mama...why you cry?" Lorien asked when she noticed the wetness in the older elf's eyes.

"I-it's fine, da'len. It's a happy cry," Nimwen assured her, her voice tight.

"Anything is possible if you put your mind to it," Mahvir reminded her, smiling. "And I do believe you have your reason to fight right beside you, Lady Nimwen."

Nimwen looked at Lorien. "Indeed I do."

"Me?" Lorien asked.

Nimwen laughed. "Yes, you, silly," she replied as she smother the girl's face in kisses, much to the toddler's squealing delight.

Mahvir smiled at the pair and whispered, "Bring him home, Nimwen, with your own strength." He turned and limped forward.

"So, how do you propose I convince them to let me go? Cassandra is a force to be reckoned with."

"Everyone eventually bows to reason, even the strongest tree can't stand alone against the wind," Mahvir stated. "While I do mean for you to have your own strength, others are always welcome. Perhaps I should stick with words not with metaphors." He laughed and rubbed the back of his head.

Nimwen cocked her head to the side, curiosity in her eyes. "It's fine. Honestly I miss a good metaphor. All the people who usually talk circles around me are gone. So many straightforward people I've been dealing with, and this is Val Royeaux for goodness sake."

"Maker, we can't have that," Mahvir joked. She wanted a metaphor he could give her one. "Let me put it this way: you are the kind of tree whose roots spread out and form a forest around you. Together you and this forest hold strong against all storms, no matter how fierce the wind blows. Now, picture Solas a tree who has no forest around him. A tree on the highest peak of a mountain, strong against most winds, for he is a weathered tree used to standing alone, but then one day one wind comes along and knocks the tree down. In this metaphor you are that wind… I think. Either that or it's a dragon of some sort."

Nimwen snorted. "Yes, that will do," she said. She then frowned. "But that thing about Solas, he's a lonely man, isn't he? I knew it when we were...together, but only now do I realize just how alone he was been all this time."

"It's a choice, one he made many centuries ago. I suppose all of the first of our People could've gone: 'bow to me, for we are your gods now! Grrrr!'" Mahvir clawed the air with his free hand, making a fake angry face.

Lorien giggled. "He funny," she told Nimwen.

"Yes, he is very funny," Nimwen smiled at the girl. "He is also quite well-informed. Too informed in fact." Still smiling, she looked back at Mahvir. "Pray tell, how do you know so much about Solas and the evanuris. This is all information that even someone with agents like yours shouldn't know, and I'm rather curious."

Mahvir stiffened. In his wish to cheer her up he had let too much slip. He sighed, there was no way out of this. "Ir abelas, da'len," he started, head bowed. "I've not been entirely honest about my age or my name. I am actually Shartan, I didn't take the name from the original. I am him. You pick a few things up after a thousand years."

Nimwen's eyes widened, and then narrowed like a viper. "Proof. Now," she demanded.

"Hmm. I could tell you how Andraste loved her people but had a wicked sense of humor. Her idea of cheering someone up was throwing them in a freezing lake," he shuddered. "Either that or that was her idea of flirting with someone. I've yet to sort it out."

"That's nice, but any elf in Halamshiral could say the same thing. I want to know how you could be Shartan, and what connection you have to Solas."

"Ah, the connection to Solas is simply not wanting him to destroy this world. As for how I am someone, how do you prove that? I could tell you all about the holy war against the Imperium and how I was burned at the stack, but what would that prove other than events 'any elf' could recite?"

"What was the relationship between Andraste and Shartan?"

Mahvir had felt his ears burning before she had finished the question. He coughed. "You want me tell you how I fell in love with a human. A human who was both married and betrothed all at once? That I followed her not just because it would help my People but because I loved her? Who couldn't love her? Even a magister ended up loving her and thus killed her out of mercy," he hadn't meant to but the last words were spoken in rage. "Ir abelas." He bowed his head.

"Ir abelas, hahren."

Mahvir looked at her. "I would do anything for this world and for my People, Lady Nimwen. As Shartan I wanted to see all of us free and so led them from slavery to the promise of a home. A home Andraste promised us. But she betrayed her husbanded and in the end he betrayed her and us. All because she loved him and her elf general."

"She seemed like a remarkable woman," Nimwen said. "I would have loved to meet her."

"Who Andasti?" Lorien asked.

Mahvir chuckled at Lorien's pronouncing of Andraste's name. "You're a lot like her, Lady Nimwen. You've her spirit and courage. One might also say you're like Mythal in same ways as well." He smiled at Nimwen. "I see why both humans and our People love you."

"I've met Mythal, I don't know how I feel about that comparison. I thank you for the thought though."

He couldn't stop himself. Mahvir burst out laughing until his chest started to tighten. "I mean the young Mythal," he managed between gasps for air and trying not laugh. "Not the cranky woman she became who is always seeking revenge on those who killed her. I've met her as well, da'len. Scared the living daylights out of me."

"Oh, well, in that case-"

"Mistel, Mistel! Uncle Varry talk 'bout her!" Lorien exclaimed. "She dragon who help Mister Hawke!"

"I see Varric read you Tale of the Champion before he left," Nimwen said.

"Mistle dragon and lady," Lorien told her mother, seriousness in her voice.

All this talk about Mythal gave Mahvir a work around to Nimwen's other question even if it was a lie. "You asked how I knew so much about the creators? I told you I had met Mythal. She told me many things including the battle between the evanuris and Fen'Harel."

"She just told you?" Nimwen asked. "The Mythal I remember was not the most, forthcoming of women."

"Oh, I never said she was forthcoming about it or what I had to do get that information. I did tell Andraste that was the last time I would speak with Mythal on her behalf no matter how much she begged," he meant the last part as a joke, but his voice caught at the mention of Andraste.

"That sounds more like Mythal," Nimwen said. "But I'd never heard of Andraste seeking out any of the evanuris for help."

"The chant is a painted image of the Andraste they want to remember. Few truths remain within it other than she was loving woman and was the one who founded the belief in the Maker. She would have done anything to bring down the Imperium. Even seek knowledge from the evanuris." He stopped and looked around despite the fact he knew no one had overheard that. "Don't tell anyone I ever said that!"

"I...won't?" Nimwen replied. "So did she seek out...others as well?" She asked.

"Yes." Mahvir paused then decided on the truth. "It's how we learned the Witch of Wilds was playing host to piece of Mythal. Let's sit, this isn't a short story if you wish to hear it and I fear I might collapse if we remain standing much longer." His leg was sending daggers of pain through his body.

"Of course, let's sit," Nimwen replied.

"We get story?" Lorien asked. "Yay story!" she cheered.

The three of them returned to where they had been having lunch. Mahvir paused, thinking for a long time. "The first of the evanuris Andraste wanted to seek out for his power was Dirthamen," he started. "She wanted to know if the lore, what little we slaves had of him, was true or not. If he really knew everything and, if he did, if he could share the information with us. I told her it was bad idea to seek out those who had been silent for a thousand years. That it was unlikely we would ever find anything.

"She sent out several groups to look for any signs of ancient elven society. Until we found the ruins of a temple. It wasn't one which pointed to Dirthamen, rather Mythal. From there we gathered more clues until it eventually led us to the Witch of the Wilds and Mythal. The temple I speak of was later renamed the Temple of Sacred Ashes." He paused to gather his thoughts.

"That's incredible," Nimwen said. "And something I doubt the Chantry would want brought to light. Even with the Divine adding back the Canticle of Shartan there are still those trying to keep the elves' influence out of the Chantry."

"Sad to see, but our People have never been welcome as equals. Most people fear changes, we are no different than the humans in this." Mahvir bowed his head. "It's a sad truth and one which has split our People between city elf, slave, and Dalish in recent history.

"Andraste pressed us back towards her homeland. It was just a small group of us. She had left Maferath in charge of the main force while we set out with a few of her most trusted allies. Eventually we found ourselves deep in the wildlands."

"Who Mefapaf?" Lorien asked.

Mahvir blinked. If the man had lived to hear a child call him that he could see Maferath's flushed, red face before he would have burst out in a roar of laughter. Mahvir chuckled. "A man who is remembered as a traitor to Andraste. He led her and I into a trap which in turn lead to Andraste's death. He-" Mahvir broke off as the images of the fire raced through his mind. The pain as he used his power to freeze the fire in order to escape. The frozen flames had devoured his left side. He'd raced to save his love. The agony as his hands burned. The memory of her frozen in time, bleeding out and the raw rage which had filled him. The pain as he had been forced to flee instead of avenging her. The images were clear to him as if it had been only yesterday.

"Mahvir?"

A cool hand touched his shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

Mahvir jumped at the touch. He looked to Nimwen, eyes still wide the vision of past events. "Forgive me," he managed to choke out at last. "Bad memories," he explained.

Nimwen looked at him, a concerned look on her face. "It's probably not the nicest of subjects but I wanted to know, how did you survive? It was said you died with Andraste."

Mahvir bowed his head. He couldn't tell the full truth anymore without revealing his power over time magic, only time magic, to another. People tended to do one of two things upon learning of his ability: call him a god or try to dissect him to learn what unlocked it.

"The fire burned the bindings on me. I tried to get Andraste out even as I burned, but she was already gone so I fled. The Magisters assumed the fire killed me. Half my body was on fire when I ran." He couldn't look at Nimwen, knowing he had given her half truths, knowing that he could never tell another of his true abilities. That if he did Dirthamen would live again when Dirthamen had died in name twenty centuries ago.

"So, that's why you wear the gloves, and the cloth?"

Mahvir sighed. He took the scarf from around his neck, revealing the burn running up just below his jawline. Then he removed his gloves to reveal malformed skin on both of his hands. He pulled his sleeves. The burns stopped just passed his wrist on his right hand while his left arm was covered in the burn.

"The scar covers just over forty percent of my body. The fire aggravated my already poor breathing until it become hard to even walk short distances without an attack. But I lived and she didn't."

"Ir abelas," Nimwen said, her voice soft. "I can't imagine…"

Lorien reached out and took one of his scarred hands in her tiny ones. "Ouchies still hurt?" she asked, examining his skin with an innocent curiosity.

"Sometimes," Mahvir confessed. "Thank you, Lorien." He wrapped his hand around her tiny one. "It's the past and I only regret I was not fast enough to help her," he told Nimwen. "What matters now is the future. If I lived each day dwelling on what could have been I would live life in stalemate as sorrow devoured me. I would rather live in the moment while working for a brighter tomorrow."

"That's a good attitude. One I think we should all have," Nimwen said. "So you managed to escape, what then? How did you live all these years, was it uthenera?"

"I would have taken a thousand year nap over actually being awake for all of it any day," he joked. In a more serious voice, he continued, "I believe it was an experiment performed on me which is why I am still alive and why I've never aged passed my twenties."

"An...experiment?" Nimwen asked.

"Dag Dag!" Lorien interjected.

"I don't think he was talking about Dagna, da'len," Nimwen said.

"Not unless she was alive back then," he joked.

"Doubt it," Nimwen smirked. "But what experiment were you talking about? What kind of test could make a person immortal?"

"I wasn't really in a position for asking questions, Lady Nimwen. I didn't know the full effects until years later after the person who had performed the experiments on me was gone."

"Was it your old master?" Nimwen asked. "I remember Varric telling me about one of Hawke's associates, Fenris. He had been experimented on and it gave him extraordinary abilities."

Mahvir had a flash of Elgar'nan with another elvhen. The two of them talking in hushed voices close to a seven-year-old Dirthamen, then called Dirth. "In a manner of speaking," he confessed.

"And so you were able to live all these years. Why the name Mahvir?"

"Better question: why not the name 'Mahvir'?" He smiled at Nimwen as he replaced his scarf and gloves. "Shartan is remembered with fondness by our People, especially the Dalish. While he is hated by the humans, who tried everything in the power to wipe the fact I am an elf from history, or just the fact I existed in the first place from history. There are those who know who I am and how to find me when their need is greatest. But outside of that, there is no reason to keep a name most either detest or revere. I am no God-like being. I am just a man who wishes to live for all the tomorrows of his people."

"And to keep the world from being ripped asunder," Nimwen added. "Though wouldn't a leader of the People desire a world where the elves ruled once more?"

"We can achieve a world far better than the one Solas invisions. I loved a human woman, and I love my people. I don't hate humans anymore than I could hate elves. I do regret our peoples never found common ground, but I still believe we can achieve a homeland and work in peace with the humans. Tearing down the veil will destroy everything: the humans, the children of the stone, our People, darkspawn, dragons, and the gentle spirits. What world is left if the people manage to make it through will be swallowed by the chaos and fear of a place they grew up unable to understand? What future is there for our People if demons try to kill them at every turn? There is none. The world Solas seeks has been gone for twenty centuries and can never be restored."

Nimwen bowed her head, sighing. "I wish Solas could see there is hope for this world, that he has a place in this world."

"Who Sully?" Lorien asked.

Nimwen stiffened, her already fair skin growing paler.

Mahvir noticed her distress and knew the reasons. "Solas was once a great man," he told the little girl. "He's from the time when our People ruled. Always remember him for what he has done for his people. Know he is simply a great man who's lost his way."

Lorien blinked. "Okay," she said, though clearly not comprehending all that was said.

"Ma serannas," Nimwen said, turning back to Mahvir. In her eyes was gratitude, as well as pain. "There is still good in him. I know it." Her gaze glanced towards her stump arm, hidden away behind silk brocade. "Even when he hurts people it's always been in an attempt to help. Sad, isn't it?"

"He is lost in the darkness of his own guilt. Most have been there before. When it's as deep as his is, there is no way to crawl out of it alone. We all need a kick in the head from someone to get out of those dark places, whether from a stranger or someone you love. It's no different for him than it is for you or me in learning to run again."

"I'll drag him out of the dark if I have to, whether I have just one arm or no arms," Nimwen vowed. "I can't give up on him, he wouldn't give up on me."

"I will stand by you until the moment you go to face him," Mahvir promised. He placed his over his heart and bowed to her. "You have my word on this, Lady Nimwen."

"Ma serannas," Nimwen replied.

"Ma Sera-ness," Lorien repeated.

Mahvir bowed his head to her. "I will do what is necessary to save all of our People." Even if it meant finishing what Solas had started twenty-centuries ago by sealing both himself and Solas in Fade. He kept this to himself and it would only be in the last ditch effort to save this world. For Nimwen's and Lorien's sake, he desperately hoped the future he saw where Solas would listen would be the one to occur.

"It's ma serannas," Nimwen said to Lorien, enunciating slowly.

Lorien cocked her head. "My...Sera nest?"

"Ma. Serannas."

"Ma ser...annas."

"Good girl," Nimwen smiled.

"I got it, Mahvy," Lorien grinned at the older elf.

"Good job." Mahvir smiled at her as he placed his hand on her head. He winked at her. "Little sister."

Lorien giggled and clapped her hands.

"You don't have to indulge her," Nimwen whispered, though she looked amused. "At this rate she won't let you go."

"Whoever said I wanted to let go as well," he teased Nimwen. "She's too adorable to let go of." He smiled at Nimwen.

"I door-bull," Lorien said, prideful. She clambered onto Mahvir's lap and scrunched her hands up in his shirt. "You brother now," she told him.

"Adorable, it means you're cute, precocious child." Mahvir felt warmth in his heart. The same warmth he had felt seeing his daughter's birth. The same warmth when he had seen other children of the People over the past ten centuries. This was what he lived for: her future. The future of all elvhen children whether they were human-blooded or pure. They were all his children to him and he would live to ensure they had bright future.