Chapter 14:
"I come bearing gifts!" Nimwen said as she entered the room. Her hand and hook were busy holding the tray of food, so she had to open the door with her foot. "Mahvir, Lori, you two still in here?" she asked as she and the two ravens walked into the living room.
Her eyes scanned the room, until they locked onto something in the corner.
"What the?"
The entire corner of the room was taken up by a rather impressive pillow fort. Four dining chairs acted as support with Nimwen's own bedroom comforter acting as the roof. A mass of pillows made up the walls like a chasind hut. There were toys and dolls standing along the walls, like guards of a castle.
"Anybody home?" Nimwen asked, amused. She could hear muffled giggles within the fort. "Such an impressive fort, who commands this keep I wonder?"
"The princess always commands the castle," came Mahvir's voice.
"That me!" Lori's voice followed.
Nimwen chuckled, and shook her head. "Well, I bring an offering for the princess. Cake from the land of kitchen."
"Ooh, cake!" Lori gasped.
There was the sound of shuffling, and then the door flap, made from the throw blanket, flipped open as Lori crawled out.
"Cake, cake, cake!" the little girl squealed as she danced over to her mother.
"Yes, cake. I also brought something for you, Mahvir," Nimwen said. "I know you aren't fond of sweets, so I brought you some dumplings. Also, I heard red wine was your favorite, so I brought some of it too."
Mahvir pulled himself out of the fort and used one of the chairs to pull himself up. "My thanks, Nimwen. I take it Fear told you this to keep Deceit from getting more cake than him."
The two ravens had set down the basket with the dumplings and bottle of wine on the table. They were now staring at Nimwen with intent eyes.
Nimwen chuckled. "True, but I'm glad he did, so now I know what to get you," she said as she set the food on the table. "I'd hate for you not to be able to eat with us."
"Those dummings?" Lori asked as she peered over the edge of the table.
"Yes, but those are for your brother, ask him if you want one," Nimwen said.
"You're welcome to one, Lorien." Mahvir moved to Nimwen's side. "Apologies for the mess," he whispered so Lori couldn't hear. "I will aid you in picking it up."
"It's fine," Nimwen assured him. "And thanks, I knew she was going to make one eventually, but I have to say this is probably the best fort yet."
Mahvir lifted out the bottle of wine and then glasses. Mahvir's voice was normal tone once more. "Only the best castle for the little princess." He bowed his head to Lori before he poured the wine into the glasses. He held one up for Nimwen.
"Cake!" Deceit demanded. "We helped carry the food here and didn't eat it. Where's my slice?"
"Be patient, Deceit." Mahvir turned his gaze on the ravens.
"I swear they are like children," Nimwen smirked.
"I princess," Lori grinned.
"Yes, da'len, you are a princess," Nimwen said.
"And Mahvy prince!" Lori declared.
"I would prefer to be the princess's advisor over a prince." Mahvir raised his glass in a toast to Lori.
"You that too," Lori said as Nimwen lifted her into her chair.
"A duel title, quite the honor," Nimwen smirked.
"Mamae queen," Lori told Mahvir.
"I see. She would make a wonderful queen." Mahvir settled himself into one of the chairs at the table. He looked exhausted and in the same moment happy.
"Oh, I doubt that," Nimwen said, taking a sip of her wine. "I barely survived being an Inquisitor. I think I'm done with titles for now."
"But I still princess, right?" Lori asked.
"Yes, da'len, you're always princess."
"Yay!" With that, Lori began to rip into her cake with her bare hands.
Nimwen tsked. "I brought you a fork for a reason."
The ravens had settled aways from them to eat their large slices.
"Princess's always eat with their fork, Princess Lorien." Mahvir held out the fork to Lori. "Show me how one is supposed to eat, will you?" He gave the little girl a charming smile. His voice patient and almost soothing.
Lori stopped her carnage, chocolate smeared all over her face. She took the fork in her chocolate-covered hand and stabbed it into what remained of her cake. She pulled away a piece far too large for her to eat, so she bit off a smaller piece straight from the fork instead. "Like that?" she asked.
"My thanks for showing me, Princess." Mahvir picked up his fork and cut part of a dumpling to eat.
Lori smiled, showing frosting stained teeth.
"You're going to brush your teeth after this," Nimwen reminded her, cutting a much more proportioned piece of her own cake.
"Awww," Lori complained.
"You want to look pretty for everyone, right, my princess Lorien?" Mahvir asked. He had eaten more of the dumplings than most other food Nimwen had seen him eat. Each bite he cut so it was small.
"You like them?" Nimwen asked.
"They're good," Mahvir stated. It was always hard to tell if he was being truthful or not when it came down food.
"Good, then I expect you to eat them all." She'd been rather lenient as of late regarding him and food, but now she was going to put her foot down and ensure he was eating as much as he needed to.
Mahvir bowed his head. Then looked at the dumplings.
"You're not getting out of this," Nimwen said, firmly but gently. "You really do need to eat more. Perhaps you'll have more energy if you're not starving all the time."
"Perhaps," he stated. Then took a deep breath and continued to eat the dumplings.
"Good," Nimwen nodded as she ate her cake. "Not to mention you're going to need all the energy you can get if you're going to keep up with this one," Nimwen added, pointing to Lori.
"Birdie like cake?" Lori asked the two ravens.
Fear looked up. He's beak and feathers covered in chocolate. "Cake is wonderful," he stated and bent to nip up the scraps.
"You get it all over your feathers, oaf," Deceit snapped her beak and started to clean her own feathers.
"Mamae, they talk," Lori told her mother. The girl did not seem surprised or in shock, but simply informed Nimwen of this new discovery like she was pointing out a cloud in the sky.
"That they do, da'len," Nimwen nodded.
"Mahvy, you know birdies talk?" Lori asked.
"It is a matter I've been acutely aware of since the day I first met them," he stated and leaned back in seat. He took a sip of the wine and closed his eyes as if savoring the taste. Only a few of the dumplings remained.
"I try dumming?" Lori asked Nimwen.
"Like I said, ask Mahvir," Nimwen replied.
"I have one?" Lori batted her eyes at her brother.
"You may." Mahvir bowed his head to Lori. "Now, the wine on the other hand you must wait on."
"Why I no have juice?" Lori asked, eyeing his wine glass.
"It isn't juice, Princess Lorien." Mahvir looked at Nimwen. "You could give her a sip. It wouldn't do any harm other than the fact she won't like the taste."
"I suppose there would be no harm in a small sip," Nimwen shrugged. "Lori, would you like to try?"
The little girl nodded her head excitedly.
Nimwen brought her glass to Lori's lips and let her have the tiniest of tastes.
The girl's face went from excited, to curious, then finally disgusted. "Eww! That gross!" she scowled.
Mahvir chuckled. "It is aged fruit juice, you will one day like it, but not until you're much older. Here," - he placed a dumpling on her plate - "to rid yourself of that 'icky' taste."
Lori snatched up the dumpling and began to lick it.
"Lori, manners," Nimwen said.
The toddler paused, her tongue still on the dumpling, and looked up at her mother. She then looked away and continued on licking the dumpling.
"And so the princess wolf ignores her queen." Mahvir gave Nimwen an amused look. "Lorien, may you show me again how to use a fork? I seem to have forgotten."
"What? It easy, silly." Lori put her dumpling down and picked up her fork in her fist. She stabbed the dumpling right in the middle. "See?" She showed him the impaled dumpling.
"You are too kind, my princess. You have my thanks." Mahvir bowed to Lori. He then picked up his fork and cut up one of the two remaining dumplings on his plate.
"You are a miracle worker," Nimwen told Mahvir. "I usually have to make two deals with demons before she's willing to behave at the table."
"Are you mocking us, Mortal?" Deceit demanded, her feathers fluffed.
"No, she isn't, Deceit." Mahvir gave the demon a stern look. He turned his gaze back on Nimwen. "Lorien is a special girl. You've done a marvellous job at raising her."
The elven woman gave him a small smile. "Ma serannas. It hasn't been easy, and I sometimes wish it could have turned out...differently. But I wouldn't trade her for anything." Nimwen set her fork down and ruffled Lori's hair. "Messes and all." She grinned at the girl.
"You are truly fortunate, both of you." He smiled at Nimwen and Lori. Though, there was a note of sorrow in his voice and the smile was a sad, almost wistful one.
"Mahvy?" Lori asked.
He snapped back at once. "How do you like the dumpling, Princess?" he asked, now really smiling.
"It yummy, but I wonder somethin'."
"What is it, Princess?" he asked.
"Where brothers come from?"
"A good and a little heavy of a question, Princess. Certain brothers will come from your parents like you did. Me? I traveled here from long ago and far away."
"I gots more there?" Lori asked.
"Lori, dear, it's not that simple," Nimwen interjected.
The girl pouted. "I no got more brothers in the brother place? But Mahvy best brother, so they gotta be nice too."
"I am certain your opinion of me would change if you got full blood brothers," Mahvir stated. "As for this 'brother place,' I rather wish the world worked in such away. But to answer your question, no, where I come from you had cousins but no other siblings."
"I got cuzzes?" she asked. "I see them?"
"No." Mahvir looked at her. "One of them I will never let near you. He isn't nice. The others have long since gone. No matter if you believe in the Maker or the Creators, know they are at the side of whoever created this world."
Lori cocked her head to the side. "The gone?"
"Yes they...they had to leave, da'len," Nimwen explained, the subject making her feel uneasy.
"Like daddy?"
The air felt heavy, and the room grew silent.
"No, Princess Lorien. Your daddy didn't leave in the same way your cousins did," Mahvir's voice was gentle and, yet, there was an underlying hint of determination in each word.
"N-no, he didn't," Nimwen said, feeling as her throat grew tight. "Your daddy had to leave because...he had a job he felt he needed to do."
"Oh," Lori replied quietly. She prodded at what was left of her dumpling with her finger. "Parsey's daddy left 'cause of job, but Parsey gets letters and stuff. How come I no get letters?"
"Well…" This wasn't happening. How was Nimwen supposed to explain to Lori that her own father didn't even know she existed, or at least knew but didn't know she was his?
Mahvir looked from Nimwen to Lori. "Lorien, where your father is, he can't write. But know he loves you." He stood and placed his hand on Lori's head. "Now, you've had quite the exciting, long day. I believe it's time for bed, is it not, Nimwen?"
"That's right," Nimwen nodded, trying to keep up her facade. "Come on, da'len." She picked up Lori and set her on her hip. "Let's get you tucked in."
"Where brother sleep?" Lori asked.
"I have a place to stay," Mahvir assured her. He turned his gaze to Nimwen. "I will get the plates cleaned up."
"Okay, and you and I," Nimwen said to Lori a she put her down. "Are going to put all these pillows and blankets back.
Lori pouted. "But, mamae, don't break Fort Nug."
"I'm sorry, Lori, but if you keep Fort Nug you won't have any blankets or pillows, and you don't want to sleep cold do you?"
Lori crossed her arms and grumbled.
"You can always build it again," Nimwen said.
Lori sighed. "But it won't be same," the toddler said wistfully.
"That is the wonder in creation." Mahvir looked at Lori. "You can't recreate the same piece, but you can always make it better, stronger the next time."
Lori looked up at Mahvir. "Really?"
"Really." He smiled at her. "And just think of the new memories you can create in that new, beautiful fort."
Lori put her finger to her mouth. "We...call it Fort Hart?"
"That sounds like a good name," Nimwen smiled.
"That it does." Mahvir bowed his head. "Shall we gather your pillows and blankets first, Princess Lorien?" He bowed to her. "So you may dream sweetly this night."
"Okay," Lori nodded.
Together, the three elves dismantled the fort and put the blankets and pillows back in their proper places.
"Let's get you tucked in," Nimwen said once she put Lori in her nightgown. She tucked the girl into her bed and pulled the blankets up.
"Mamae?" Lori asked as she clutched her stuffed nug.
"Yes, da'len?"
"Sing me the pretty song?"
Nimwen smiled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Lori's ear. "Of course, sweetie." Nimwen cleared her throat and began to sing the old lullaby sung to her in the days with her clan.
A soft voice joined in from the other room. So gentle and so quiet it was almost lost in Nimwen's voice.
Elgara vallas, da'len
Melava somniar
Mala taren aravas
Ara ma'dessen melar
Iras ma ghias, da'len
Ara ma'nedan ashir
Dirthara lothlenan'as
Bal emma mala dir
Tel'enfenim, da'len
Irassal ma ghilas
Ma garas mir renan
Ara ma'athlan vhenas
Ara ma'athlan vhenas
As the song went on, Lori's eyes began to droop, and she let out a tiny yawn. By the time the song ended, she had fallen asleep, snuggled into her blankets.
Nimwen kissed her daughter's forehead then quietly stood. She turned and saw Mahvir standing in the doorway.
"Apologies, Nimwen." Mahvir bowed his head and backed from the doorway into the other room. The sound of him gathering plates followed.
Nimwen quietly left the room, closing the door behind her, and joined Mahvir. "I didn't know you sang," she said as she picked up the two wine glasses.
"It's been a long time, especially since I'd heard Mir Da'len Somnair," he confessed. "That song is the oldest one our People have. I am glad it's not been forgotten to time."
"I didn't realize, I thought it was just a Dalish song." Nimwen smiled. "It's nice to know it was more...it was something we were able to preserve."
"One of the few good memories I have of Mythal from my childhood was her singing that lullaby to Falon'Din and I." There was a distant look to his eyes. "The song is as old as Falon'Din and I at the very least, if not older."
"I can't believe it's that old," Nimwen said. "I remember vaguely my mother singing it to me, but I mostly remember Sinderon singing it. He has such a deep voice, when he sang it would always put me right to sleep."
Mahvir chuckled. "You should hear Solas sing. Though, you would have to whittle it out of him first. The only time I heard him sing was in a bet Mythal got him and Elgar'nan into to see which could sing better. Being young and brothers, it ended up being quite the competition."
Nimwen chuckled. "I would have loved to hear Solas sing. I remember he would sometimes hum to himself while he painted. Though, as soon as he realized I was watching, he would stop."
"Always the shy one. He wasn't too happy when he learned I had been listening and asked if he could sing Falon and I to sleep that night. Mythal also was appalled by the idea. She shot it down, much to Solas's relief. Granted, back then I didn't realize her reasons weren't because she just didn't want another to sing to Falon and I." He chuckled. "It was still amusing."
"Perhaps if-when I get Solas back I'll convince him to sing," Nimwen mused.
"I swear to you, I will do everything in my power so you and Lorien have him back by the end of Lorien's third birthday." Mahvir bowed to Nimwen. "I can speed us up so the travel time from here to Denerim takes only a few days instead of a month. You will have Solas back, Nimwen." With those words, he finished gathering everything onto the tray. "Goodnight." He nodded to her. Then he was gone, tray and all.
Nimwen blinked, wondering why he'd left so quickly. "And why by Lori's birthday?" Nimwen wondered. It would be nice to have him around for Lori's birthday, but the way Mahvir said it made it sound like it was a crucial deadline. The elven woman sighed. Mahvir was as cryptic as his father.
She shook her head, and that's when she heard a noise come from the dining table. She turned and did her best not to laugh. Fear and Deceit were passed out side by side on top of the table, cake crumbs smeared on their beaks and on their feathers. Nimwen looked around and found a small, unused dish towel and picked it up. Carefully, so as not to wake the sleeping ravens, she draped it over the two birds, leaving just their heads exposed.
Fear shifted and hiccuped in his sleep.
Deceit mumbled, "No, no, I couldn't possibly have more cake." She twitched her shoulders and turned her head away from Fear. "Maybe one more bite. Or all of it." Her voice trailed off into the soft mumbles of sleep.
Nimwen put her hand to her mouth to hold in her snickers. She snuck out of the living room and into her bedroom. She removed her clothes and got into her nightgown. She removed her prosthetic and placed it on the bedside table. Then, she got into bed and drifted off to sleep, more content than she had been in a long time.
*~ x ~*
The night had fallen, leaving most asleep within the Cathedral. Mahvir was left awake, woken from the past by the same moment playing in his mind each night. The worst moments of his life repeated over and over as he subconcious pulled those moments to the surface. It was an endless torment. One he knew would only end if he died or, if somehow, he could move on and live a life anew.
He shut out those thoughts as he entered one of the rooms in the Cathedral. The long room was lined with wooden pews and ended with a statue of Andraste. Before they had left for the temple, Mahvir had found this room and now, while he was here, he came here each night.
Mahvir crossed the room, his eyes never leaving the statue of Andraste. This was now the only way he could see her outside of the last moments of her life. The moments which played along with others in an endless loop when he tried to sleep.
The cold stone face, showed nothing of the warm, stern, kind woman he had loved. The statue placed in honor of what she had upheld instead of the woman herself. But it was all he had.
"Forgive me, ma lath," he whispered. He placed a single, red rose before the statue. "I couldn't save you then. If there is a Maker, I know when my time comes I will never be granted a place beside you. Perhaps Maferath and I can torment one another for eternity instead. Rather fitting, don't you think, Andraste? After all, I did kill him in cold blood."
"You did what?"
"Good evening, Seeker." Mahvir didn't turn. He had known there was a future where Cassandra would find him here. Yet, he had never feared it. What fates lay at the end of this night, he would take.
"I had been curious who kept leaving roses," Cassandra explained as she walked between the pews. "You said...you killed Maferath?" She stopped just behind Mahvir. "But it was his sons who killed him. Are you saying you are…?"
"Yes, Isorath, Evrion, and Verald. The boys found me and learned what transpired to the woman they loved as a mother. They aided me in corning Maferath, but, in the end, I took it upon myself to kill him in their stead. It isn't a moment I am proud of, Seeker."
"You knew Andraste?" There was disbelief in her voice. "Just who are you?"
Mavhir stood and limped over to the pew. "It's not a short story. Sit and I will explain all of it to you, Seeker."
"Very well." Cassandra took a seat in the first pew, beside Mahvir. She crossed her arms. When she turned her head to him in her eyes there was suspicion, but also curiosity. "Start at the beginning."
"I have gone by many names over my long life. As an elvhen with a weak connection to the Fade, I am denied the long slumber normal, ancient elvhen can take," Mahvir started to explain, knowing she needed the full truth. "Though Solas never knew, I fought at his side to stop the others from destroying all of the People. I, like him, knew the world where the Veil was constructed would be a far better one than all the possibilities.
"After the construction of the Veil, I wandered the world until eventually the Tevinter Imperium found me with a group of other elvhen I had been trying to aid. We were taken, tortured for information on the whereabouts of the others; then broken. Those who survived were sold into slavery. Stripped of identities, our heads shaved and bodies branded so men and women looked close to the same.
"A few years passed until the fact I didn't age became noticed by my masters. I became a curiosity. They tried everything to learn my secrets and recorded their findings. One night, I managed to trick the guards and escaped with a group of other slaves. We crossed Thedas, running, our masters on our trail at all times." He trailed off, eyes closed. He could hear the echo of the pursuers, the fear in the other's voices as they ran and ran without end.
"I see." Cassandra's voice was quiet, a mix of sympathy for his plight as well as discomfort at the description of the ancient Tevinters' actions. "What happened after?"
Mahvir opened his eyes as he continued, "One night we stopped at foot of a lonely hill. Tried and with little food to share between us, my People feared fates far worse than returning to their masters and bearing a beating. I couldn't stand the despair and convinced them we could win in an ambush against our pursers. The chant makes it out far prettier than it really was. Many died that night, but we came through victors.
"For the first time in their memories, my People were turned from the hunted to the hunters. While the victory came at great cost, they found a steely determination and hope we could fight and die for something other than our masters. They took up the weapons and armor of the fallen hunters and turned to me. In the blink of an eye, in one night's battle, I took back up the role of the leader without ever wanting such a role. The name I went by back then was Shartan."
Cassandra's eyes widened, and Mahvir could see her frame stiffen. Bearing the likeness of a gaping fish, she would open her mouth to speak, but then immediately close it. After a moment, she seemed to regain her speech. "Y-you…?" she began quietly. "You are Shartan?"
"Yes." Mahvir bowed his head to her. "I am Shartan. To those who still seek me, I still bare the name."
"But Shartan was burned alongside Andraste," Cassandra countered. "How, how is this possible?"
"I am a time mage, Seeker. I managed to age the bonds which held me in order break from the pyre, yet, I wasn't fast enough to save her." Mahvir felt his throat close. He could feel the flames on his hands as he reached through the frozen fire towards her, only to find her already dead. The horror he had felt in the moment, the raw torment and devastation which had wrapped around him.
"I...do not know what to say." Cassandra bowed her head. "It is an honor to be in your presence."
Mahvir chuckled. "Seeker, I am no different than I was the day we were at the temple. All you have learned is one more moment in my life. Moments which make me just as flawed as the next person. And all you have learned is how half my body ended up burned."
"Yes, but, you walked beside Holy Andraste. You were her closest ally. You helped change the history of Thedas. I can't ignore that."
Mahvir let out a low breath and looked at the statue of the woman he had fallen for. "For once, I would like to not change history. It seems like that is all I have done with my life." He gave a hollow, soft laugh to this.
"What was she like?"
The question pulled at Mahvir. "More than the person the Chanty has made her out to be." He paused. "Are you certain you wish to know, Seeker?"
"Yes, it's…" Cassandra seemed to collect her thoughts. "The Chantry is an imperfect vessel, I know this. I know despite our efforts people change things to further their own goals, or desires. I saw what happened to Nimwen after the truth of the evanuris came out. It devastated her, as I'm sure I would have been if such a revelation hit me. And now I am sitting next to the man who was with the Prophetess. I just want to know...that at least some of it was true. That she really was a woman who wanted to change the world with a song."
"And blade." Mahvir let out a long breath. "Nimwen heard part of the truth, one side of a story sixty centuries in the making. As for Andraste, I can tell of the woman I knew and grew to care for. Her voice was unmatched, this is true, but one can't change the world with song. Most times the world has changed has been changed through force and armies. Rarely has change through other means."
"Unfortunately this is true," Cassandra sighed. "I am curious, what did you do after escaping the flames in Minrathous? Why did you not reveal your survival to your people?"
"I wasn't in a position to do much, Seeker. I managed to find Isorath, Evrion, and Verald. They helped me get so I could speak again. Then I told them what had happened. I hadn't meant to kill Maferath, but when we cornered him, rage overtook me.
"You see, Andraste was someone who was extremely hard to hate. Most who knew her, loved her in their own way. The best way I can describe her is a mixture between your more forceful personality and Nimwen's caring one. She loved her people and was brutal to her enemies. When off the field of battle there was no one as kind as her. But she did have moments where she turned playful." It hurt to speak of Andraste, but all through this his voice remained calm and even. There was nothing of the pain he still felt in her passing or the guilt which clawed him each night for surviving and for killing Maferath.
"I never thought someone would compare myself to Andraste," Cassandra chuckled. "Sometimes I find it hard to remember she was a mortal woman. It seems just impossible for somebody like that to be made of flesh and blood like the rest of us."
"As most Elvhen would state about the evanuris," Mahvir pointed out. "Yet, you have met myself and Fen'Harel or Solas, as you know him. Do we seem godlike to you?" He flicked his wrist, dismissing the question he had just asked. "The point is, history often makes those deemed important out to be greater than they are. Their flaws and everything which makes them appear of this world, twisted or stripped to enhance the greatness in them. Or, in some cases, shown to make them out as worse than they were.
"Maferath wasn't a bad man. Get him drunk and he turned the most boisterous person. He loved music, his people, and, more than anything else, Andraste."
"Yet, he betrayed her, out of jealousy," Cassandra retorted. "Regardless whether he was less the villain the Chantry makes him out to be, I cannot forgive any man who would let his wife be burned alive."
Mahvir lifted his hands. "Let me put it this way," he started, "the world is seen in shades of gray. There are those like Andraste, you, and Nimwen who stand more in the lighter shades, towards the white. There are those who stand in the middle such as Solas. Then there are those who stand a little further from the center such as Maferath.
"What has spread as a mere rumor in this time, is truth. Andraste betrayed him before he betrayed her. Granted, he wouldn't have died from her kind of betrayal; yet, it remains truth. And thus, you have those like me who stand all the closer to the darkness than others."
"She betrayed him?" Cassandra asked, brow raised. "How did she betray him?"
Mahvir looked away from Cassandra. "There is a bit of gossip she and I were secret lovers."
"And this is...true?"
"Yes."
"I…" Cassandra looked down into her lap. "I don't know what to say."
"It isn't something I proud of, Seeker. The fact remains I fell in love with a woman who was already married. A woman her people believed was the chosen bride of their god. And, even if it was only for a brief time, she returned those feelings." He closed his eyes. "No matter how much I wish to deny it, I still love her. Her and-" he broke off. He would never tell another of the child. Of his daughter or how Maferath had eventually learned the truth about the baby girl who hadn't lived to see her first sunrise. Mahvir's heart twisted at the thought of his daughter.
Cassandra was silent. She tilted her head to gaze at the statue of Andraste. "It seems almost ironic, do you not think? That a man who was once an elven god, should win the heart of the human Messiah?" She looked over to him. "You truly loved her?"
"More than even my People," he whispered. "When I was with her, for a brief moment, I wasn't someone running from their past. I wasn't the elvhen god of secrets. Or the man his People believed in. I was just me."
Cassandra nodded. "You remind me much of Nimwen," she said. "She once told me that it was Solas who allowed her to forget her duties as the Harold and as Inquisitor. 'He makes me feel like Nimwen again,' is how she put it, I believe." Cassandra stood from the pew. "I should be going. I have things that must be attended to in the morning, not to mention you have given much to...ponder." The Seeker gave a small bow. "Have a goodnight…" The words trailed off her tongue into an unsure silence.
"You may continue to call me Mahvir, Seeker." Mahvir gave her a small smile. "Goodnight." He bowed his head to her.
The corners of her mouth turned upward. "Goodnight, Mahvir." With that the Seeker left the sanctuary room, her steps echoing off the walls until they faded away.
Mahvir turned his gaze back to the statue of Andraste. Two months. Two months until Nimwen got her happy ending with Solas. Two months until Solas realized this world was worth saving. And two months until Mahvir, finally, found his own ending, one way or another.