Chapter 15:
At last, the first proof which would prove to Solas, Dirthamen had been trying to twist the situation. He stared at the folded documents. His long fingers moved to open them, but then he stopped. What if Dirthamen had been telling the truth?
Fear and warmth crept into Solas's heart. If he did have a child, what then? The possibility was still small; yet, if he did - No! Dirthamen had always been a master at manipulation. He didn't have a child. He never would have children. Though, there had a been a moment, where he could picture himself with Nimwen and having a family. A real family, not one which had been messed up by time and greed. Still, he couldn't let it happen. He couldn't let himself forgot who he was or his crimes to be with his heart.
Solas took a deep breath. He unfolded the documents.
The girl's name was Lorien Hylea Lavellan. It was a pretty name. He imagined the girl looked like her mother, just as kind and beautiful.
He moved the images from his head. His eyes skimmed through page until his gaze locked onto a date. His heart froze. Two months from today was Lorien's birthday. That was just over nine months after-after... Emotions swept through him, taking him up in a wave after wave. His heart swelled as a fuzziness filled his mind. Then frozen with a shocked horror.
No! Solas squeezed his eyes shut and shoved aside the feelings in him. He had broken up with Nimwen so soon after they had lain together. There was a very real possibility Nimwen had sought comfort with another. He had torn out her heart and his in the same moment. Lorien was the child of another man. All this proved was there was a little larger of a chance she might be- No, he couldn't believe he had a child.
Dirthamen always manipulated and twisted truths.
"You can never know my truth." The words Dirthamen had uttered from some unknown moment echoed in Solas's ears.
Solas folded the documents. "Ir abelas," he whispered. "Ir abelas, vhenan. You were wrong about him." And Solas had been right all along. Dirthamen was just as cruel and twisted as his father.
Solas looked out in the direction of Demirem. The Eluvian had gotten them close enough to the city. It was only a matter of time before he would face his nephew again. This time, Solas would ensure the last of the evanuris was destroyed for good. The only way to kill Dirthamen would be to drain him of all his power and destroy the two demons who served him.
Even this might not be enough. What could be, would be take control of him. But this would require Solas to die and this didn't much appeal to him. He could and would find away to end the last free evanuris.
A thought wormed into Solas's mind. Dirthamen would hold all the knowledge he had destroyed in his temple. There was no need to search out another temple when the true source still walked free. Dirthamen could never forget anything. His mind was sharp. Out of all the others, it had been Solas's youngest nephew who had been able to best him in games of strategy. Dirthamen who could come up with the most solid of tactics. Solas had never, never been able to best him.
It was time to turn the tables. Dirthamen was frail and far weaker physically than he had ever been. All Solas needed to do was turn this game of hunter and prey into one which the prey turned to the hunter.
The first steps would be taken by his nephew. After all, Solas knew Dirthamen would be heading here. All Solas had to do was keep moving according to his original plans. Dirthamen would come. It was then Solas could trap his nephew in one of the realms of the crossroads. There, Solas would take Dirthamen's power and trapped whatever remained of his nephew. It was a fate Dirthamen had managed to wiggle from twenty centuries ago. This time, there would be no escape for him.
*~ x ~*
"Are you sure you have all the things you wanted to bring?"
"Uh-huh."
"Are you sure, da'len? Once we go we can't come back if you forgot a toy."
"I got them, mamae."
Nimwen sighed. "All right, if you're certain."
Packing for the trip to Denerim had been a stressful endeavor for Nimwen. Not for her things, the elf had spent a lifetime travelling with only the bare essentials. No, her stress came from preparing her daughter for their journey to Ferelden.
Unlike for the expedition to the temple of Dirthamen, Nimwen made the decision to bring Lori on the trip instead of leaving her in Val Royeaux. She couldn't bare to be apart from her daughter for longer than what was necessary, and she believed the trip to Denerim would be good for Lori. The only parts of Ferelden the child had ever experienced were the Frostback mountains and a single trip to Redcliffe when she was still an infant.
Nimwen grew up on the road, in the wilderness of Thedas and loved her worldly lifestyle, and she wasn't about to raise Lori sheltered like a highborn noble. "Now, Lori," Nimwen began as she folded more of the clothes that needed packing. Even with her hook the act was challenging, but she managed. "While we're on the road you can't wander off, and you have to listen to the grown ups, okay?"
"I know," Lori said while braiding the yarn hair of one of her dolls.
"I don't think you do," Nimwen replied. "Do you remember when we were coming here from Skyhold? How you wandered away from camp, twice?"
Lori pouted, her head down.
"Lori, look at me."
The little girl grumbled incoherently under her breath.
"Lorien, look at me."
Lori let out a huff and looked up.
"Now I don't mean to be the spoil sport and I love that you want to explore, but when we're on the road you can't go off by yourself. You could get hurt, or somebody could take you and we would never know. You don't want that, do you?"
Lori shook her head.
"Then, once we go off you need to stay near me, Uncle Cullen, Aunt Franne, or Mahvir. Do you understand?"
Lori sighed. "Okay, mamae."
Nimwen smiled and sat on the bed. "Good." She picked up the girl and set her in her lap. "I would be very sad if anything happened to you," she said, kissing the top of the girl's head.
"Where brother?" Lori asked out of the blue.
"You know, I'm not sure," Nimwen replied.
A soft knock sounded. "Nimwen?" the voice was Mahvir's.
"Mahvy!"
Nimwen grunted when Lori launched herself from the older elf's lap.
The girl ran to the door and began jumping for the handle.
"Lori, I'll get it," Nimwen chuckled.
"No!" Lori said adamantly. Dancing on the tips of her toes, the child's small fingers managed to graze the door handle. With one final hop she seized the handle, and then the tiny child hopped backwards to pull the door open. "Brother!" She grinned after running back around.
"Aneth ara, Princess Lorien." Mahvir gave Lori a slight bow. "Good morning, Nimwen." Mahvir turned his gaze on Nimwen. He looked even more tired than usual. "The others are starting to gather to leave," he informed her. "Would you like aid in finishing packing?"
"Sure," Nimwen said. "There's not much else."
"Mahvy, lookit, lookit, her hair pretty." Lori proudly showed him her doll, whose yarn hair was in a tangled mess trying to pass as a braid.
"It is very pretty." Mahvir gave Lorien a warm smile before he placed his staff by the door. He limped over to Nimwen. "I am at your command, Queen Nimwen." He gave her the most elegant of bows.
Nimwen smirked. "Very well, I command you to fold the last of these dresses," Nimwen ordered, pointing to the tiny dresses laid out on the bed.
"By your command." Mahvir straightened and moved to the dresses. He folded them with ease and what seemed to be years of practice. Though, his clothing spoke of anything but well cared for.
"Mahvy, you 'cited to go Dairymim?" Lori asked as she sat on the ground, leaning against the back of Mahvir's legs.
"It's Denerim, da'len," Nimwen corrected her.
"Dinner-men?"
"Denerim."
"Dilly-mibs?"
"Den-er-rim."
"Dally-Fibs?"
"Now, I'm certain you're doing this on purpose."
Lori let out a stream of giggles that let her mother know this was true. "So, you happy we go, huh? Huh?" Lori asked her brother.
Mahvir paused in the folding of the dresses. His eyes locked on them as if he couldn't see the dresses at all. Then, he looked down and gave Lori a small smile. "Yes, I am looking forward to it."
"I've never been to Denerim, actually," Nimwen said. "I wonder if it's anything like Val Royeaux. I hope it's less of a maze at least."
Mahvir looked at her, eyes sparkling with laughter. "Oh, you needn't fear Denerim being like Val Royeaux. Image dog statues, stone, and drafty halls. They build to last the cold and harsher weather, not for galmore."
"That's a comfort," Nimwen chuckled. "I don't have to worry about cold, and I'm sure the dog statues are lovely."
"I like dogs!" Lori told Mahvir. "They go woof!"
Mahvir chuckled. "That they do." He smiled at Lori then looked back at Nimwen. "Would you like aid carrying these bags down?" he asked and gave her a slight bow.
"Sure," Nimwen said. She shouldered the bag containing Lori's clothes and grabbed her own bag. "Can you take that last one?"
"Certainly." Mahvir bent. He lifted the bag carrying Lori's toys and a few other items. He limped out of the room.
"Have you been to Denerim before?" Nimwen asked as the three of them left the room. Lori walked beside her holding the older elf's hand, and she dragged her doll behind her with her other hand.
"A few times on business with our People there," Mahvir replied. He picked up his staff from just outside the room. "The current Hahren of the alienage is quite an outspoken woman about our People's rights within human cities. I've never met her, but I know the previous Hahren very well."
"Perhaps we could visit there?" Nimwen asked. "Even with my time in the Inquisition, I've had so few opportunities to meet more of our people in the cities. I've heard the stories of what the Hero of Ferelden did for the elves in Denerim, I'd like to meet them myself."
"I would like that." There was a distant almost sad note to Mahvir's voice. "Valendrian is too weak to make trips outside the city so it's been a few years since I last was able to see him." Mahvir paused at the top of the long stairs which would lead them down to the courtyard where the others would be waiting for them.
"Mahvy, we race?" Lori asked, jumping excitedly.
"Lori, we do not run down the stairs," Nimwen warned the girl. 'Also, I'm fairly certain a run down the stairs is not an option.' she thought to herself.
"But I wolf, wolf go fast," Lori insisted.
"Yes, and good little wolves listen to the mama wolf."
Lori pouted. "You no fun."
"Dear Princess Lorien," Mahvir started in formal tones, "you are a good little wolf princess. Besides, I have no doubt in my mind you would cream me in a race any day." He started down the steps. As usual he led with his staff and bad leg, but his progress was slower than normal. His free hand held to the bag and made it harder for him to walk down the steps at the normal pace he managed.
Nimwen let Lori go in front as the two followed Mahvir. "Lori, I said to not go fast," she said when she saw Lori scrambling down the steps.
"I no fast!" Lori frowned.
"Yes, you were. Don't play on the stairs or you'll trip."
"Mamaeeeee," Lori whined.
"Don't start. I don't want you messing around on the stairs and that's final."
Lori huffed and crossed her arms.
Nimwen felt a headache forming when the toddler then, with defiance in her eyes, proceeded to plop down right on the stair. "Lorien, get up."
"No."
"Stand up."
"No."
"Excuse me, young lady?"
Mahvir stopped and set down the bag. Instead of speaking, he went down and lifted Lori off the ground. She was tucked under his arm like a bag. He started down the stairs leaving the bag behind.
"Mahvy!" Lori whined, looking utterly betrayed.
"It is far from safe to throw tantrums on stairs," he stated, voice tight.
"I can take the bag," Nimwen said as she grabbed the abandoned bag. "You can handle her, I hope?"
"You both no fun," Lori grumbled.
"This is far from my first dance with a child," Mahvir stated. His breathing sounded as if it was starting to act up. He made it to the bottom of the first flight of steps and looked down at Lori.
"I hope this isn't going to be a continuing thing while we're on the road," Nimwen said to Lori.
The child mumbled under her breath.
Nimwen raised a brow. "What was that?"
"Nothin'."
Mahvir shook his head, but didn't pause to speak. Instead, he started down the next flight of steps. He didn't right Lori or set her down.
"So stubborn," Nimwen sighed. "I don't know where she gets it from."
Mahvir didn't speak until they reached the bottom of the last flight of stairs. He stopped, his breathing uneven and harsh. After a long moment, his breathing eased and he managed to speak. "I suspect it's from the other side of her family. We have some very stubborn people on that side."
"I suppose so." Nimwen had noticed Mahvir's breathing growing worse. "Are you all right?" she asked.
"Stairs tend to take a lot out of me. I am fine now." His breathing had eased up, but was still tight. "It's not far to where the others are waiting now."
"Okay, well, you can set her down. I'm sure she knows to behave now." Nimwen looked at Lori. "Right, da'len?"
"Yeah," Lori said quietly.
Mahvir knelt down and placed Lori on the ground. "Ir abelas, Lorien, but it really wasn't safe to stop in the middle of the stairs." He placed his hand on her head. His smile tired, but kind and gentle.
"Okay, we race later?"
Nimwen cringed. "Da'len, Mahvir doesn't like to run."
Lori cocked her head. "Huh, why not?"
"It's all right," Mahvir told Nimwen. He looked back at Lori, still kneeling on the ground. "I can't run, Lorien. I have a bad leg," his voice was gentle and soft. There was no pain in it, only patients.
"Bad leg?" Lori asked. "Why it bad? It mean?"
Mahvir chuckled. "Sometimes, but that isn't the point. What I mean, is I was injured a very long time ago and thus, my leg isn't as strong as other people's."
"I sorry," Lori said. She hugged his right leg and kissed his knee. "There, happy leg."
"Wrong leg, but my thanks." Mahvir unwrapped her hands and stood. "I can take the bag again, Nimwen. My apologies for not being able to aid with it as well." He bowed his head to Nimwen.
"It's fine, this isn't even that heavy," Nimwen assured him. "Trust me, back with my clan I had to carry things much heavier than this."
"Still, would you like aid with the bags the rest of way?" he asked.
Nimwen sighed. "If you insist," she said. She was more than capable of handing the bags herself, but she knew Mahvir wanted to contribute, despite her telling him it wasn't necessary.
"My thanks." He took the bag and turned to Lorien. "Shall we go see the chariot the little princess gets to ride in?"
"Yay cherry-pit!" Lori clapped.
"Chariot." Mahvir chuckled. "Only the best for a princess."
"I know, I have pretty high standards."
Nimwen chuckled. "Since when are you a princess?"
Franne smirked from the bottom of the stairs. "Come on, I've always been the princess."
"Of course, Captain." Mahvir bowed his head to Franne. "That is why you dislike my calling you 'Lady Franne,' correct?" he teased.
"No, I got just got tired of being 'Lady Franne' a long time ago," Franne shrugged. "I'm happier being Mrs. Rutherford."
"Speaking of which, where is Cullen?" Nimwen asked as the three elves walked down the stairs.
"He's making sure the chariot can survive a dragon attack," Franne joked.
"I'm not surprised given how far along you are," Nimwen said.
Franne patted her swollen stomach. "This little guy has to be tough as nails, given the bruises he's given me."
Mahvir smiled, but didn't otherwise speak. The group joined Franne.
"Mamae?" Lori asked.
"Yes?"
"Why her tummy big?" Lori asked, pointing to Franne.
"She has a baby in there," Nimwen explained.
Lori's eyes grew wide. "Really?" She turned to Mahvir. "Mahvy, there a baby in there!"
"Yes," he replied. He looked at Nimwen, his eyebrows raised in a statement which seemed to say "she had to confirm this with me?" His eyes were shining with laughter at this.
"How it get there?" Lori asked.
Nimwen sputtered. "That's...a grown-up thing, da'len. It's very boring and you won't care about it until you're older."
"But I wanna know now," Lori pouted. "Big brother, how the baby there? He get eaten?"
Mahvir chuckled. "No, Lorien. You see when a mom and dad love one another they create a new life. But the baby has to be protected by his or her mother until they are ready for the world." He seemed to be making a little story for Lori so as to avoid telling her the "grown-up" parts.
"Ohhhh," Lori responded.
"Yup, you were in your mom's tummy too, you know?" Franne added.
"I was?" Lori asked Nimwen in disbelief.
"That you were," the elf replied.
"How the baby come out?" She looked to Mahvir, since her brother had been the only one to answer her question.
"Hmm," Mahvir frowned. "Well, when the baby big enough he or she doesn't need protection, then they appear."
"So, you came out mamae's tummy too?"
Mahvir chuckled. "I'm afraid not. I'm a little old to be Nimwen's son."
Lori cocked her head to the side. "But...you my brother?"
Nimwen sighed. She was wondering when this subject would come up. She was surprised Lori hadn't asked sooner, but the toddler was always glancing over such details. Mahvir was her new big brother, and she wasn't concerned where he came from. Until now. "You see, Lori, Mahvir is actually your half-brother."
"'Half-brother?'" Lori repeated.
"Yes. He's still your brother, he just didn't come from my tummy."
Mahvir knelt down before Lori. "Besides, not all siblings have to be blood for you to view them as your brother or sister." He placed his hand on her head. "It's more a feeling in here," he placed his hand on her small chest. "A feeling you belong with those around you. That you love them as if they really were blood related to you."
"Maker, you need to get that stitched on a pillow," Franne laughed. "But, he's right, kiddo, family's all about who you want to be around. You got a pretty smart brother."
"Mahvy the best brother," Lori proclaimed proudly.
"My thanks, Lorien. You're the best sister." He used his staff to pull himself to his feet. "Shall we? After all, we shouldn't keep the commander waiting." He smiled at Franne.
"I'll be surprised if he hasn't started to search for me," the redhead smirked.
"Then let's not keep him waiting," said Nimwen.
Mahvir hefted the bag Nimwen had given him. He limped off to where the covered carriage and the commander would be waiting for them. His pace was slow.
"So, do you really think you'll find Solas?" Franne asked Nimwen, voice low.
"Mahvir seems to think so," Nimwen responded. "And it's our only lead so far."
"I still can't believe the guy you told me about wants to blow up everything."
Nimwen pursed her lips. "Neither can I."
"Hey, sorry, I didn't mean it like that," Franne apologized. "It's just...well, crap I don't really know where I was going with this. Just be careful, okay? I know you have that shiny, new, hook thingy, but don't do anything stupid, all right?"
"I'll keep that in mind, but thank you, Franne."
"Mamaeee, you and Aunt Franne slow!" Lori whined.
"Sorry, kiddo, pregnant ladies are slow."
"Why don't you go catch up with Mahvir?" Nimwen asked.
Needing no further instruction, Lori skipped ahead of the two women towards her brother.
"She is something else, isn't she?" Franne chuckled.
"Yeah, she is."
There was a sound coming from the other side of the carriage. The next moment Vir appeared around it, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. "I'm not going crash the carriage!" he snapped.
"And I'm saying that I don't know you, and am certainly not putting you in charge of my family's safety!"
"Cullen, darling, what are you doing?" Franne smirked, eyebrow raised.
"This man says he's driving?" Cullen pointed a finger at the elf. "I do not recognize him, and refuse to have him anywhere near the reins."
"Vir?" Nimwen asked. "What are you doing here?"
"Inquisitor, you know him?" asked Cullen.
"I am in the serves of… Mahvir. Where else would I be?" Vir asked. "And I am not leaving Mahvir surrounded by humans!" He glared at Cullen. "Especially you."
"If you have something to say, say it," Cullen growled.
"I am capable of protecting myself, Vir," Mahvir stated. "Besides, I would rather not have you two fighting. It would end up to the death."
"I am coming!" Vir moved up to Mahvir. "You're not leaving me behind this time or making me think you're dead, or any of it. I am coming!" He shot a glare at Cullen. "No matter what this quick child, pretty boy says."
"What did you just call me?!"
"Boys, boys, calm down. You're both pretty," Franne sighed as she got between the two. She turned to Cullen. "Look, it's sweet that you're concerned, but that doesn't mean you get to be a bully."
"'Bully?'" Cullen repeated.
"Noodle." Franne took the Commander's hands in hers. "I'm fine, the baby's fine. You need to unwind a bit."
With her words, the blond man's tense frame seemed to relax some. "I'm sorry," he said. "With the baby coming soon, I guess I've been a bit on edge."
"I know," Franne said. "Now, apologize to…" she trailed off. She turned to Vir. "Your name?"
Vir opened his mouth.
"His name is Vir," Mahvir stated before Vir could speak. "And he needs to also relax and release my arm."
"Ir abelas, hahren." Vir stepped back, head bowed. He spoke a few quick words in elvish to Mahvir who narrowed his eyes in response.
"Okay, Vir, apologize to him," Franne said to Cullen.
Cullen sighed. "I am sorry, Vir, I was a bit harsh and said things I didn't mean."
Vir glared at Cullen.
Whack - the soft sound of Mahvir's staff hitting Vir's head sounded.
Vir grumbled and rubbed his head. "Apology accepted, quick child." He rubbed his head where Mahvir had struck him.
"And?" Mahvir pressed, eyebrow raised.
"My apologies for not being understanding," Vir grumbled.
Nimwen resisted the urge to chuckle. It was like disciplining children.
"Hi, Uncle Cullen," Lori spoke up, waving at the blond.
"Hello, Lori." Cullen smiled.
"We go to Den-nim!"
"Yes, let's get on with that, shall we?" Franne suggested.
Vir leapt into the front of the carriage with one last glance at Mahvir.
"Children," Mahvir muttered under his breath. He placed the bag with the others.
"I shall drive," said Cullen.
"Of course, dear," Franne replied as she gave a knowing smirk to Nimwen.
"Come on, Lori, into the carriage," Nimwne said. She placed the bags onto the ground and helped her daughter inside.
"Hey, Mahvy, it cozy," Lori said.
"I suppose it is." Mahvir chuckled.
"Come on, ladies, we're burning daylight," Franne said from inside the carriage.
"Here, Mahvir, help me with these bags," Nimwen said.
Mahvir obeyed. He bent and picked up one of the bags to place it where he had the last one.
After they loaded the last of the bags into the carriage, Nimwen and Mahvir took their seats inside the cabin. Nimwen and Franne sat together while Lori claimed the spot across from them next to Mahvir.
Mahvir smiled at Lori. "Excited, Princess Lorien?" he asked with a slight bow.
"Yeah, yeah!" Lori nodded, bouncing in her seat.
"Try not to jump around too much," Nimwen warned the little girl.
"But, it fun," Lori giggled. "The seat bouncy."
"Yes, well, I'm sure Mahvir doesn't like feeling you bounce," Nimwen retorted.
Mahvir smiled. "Here." He held out the raven he had given Lori not too long ago. "I do wish you were old enough for a puzzle."
"Maybe you could teach her when she's older," Nimwen said.
"I like puffles," Lori said.
"You like watching me do puzzles."
"Mamae good at puffles," Lori told Mahvir.
"I don't doubt that." Mahvir placed his hand on her head. "I am certain I can make one with pieces big enough for you." He smiled at her.
"You are going to spoil her rotten," Nimwen said with a shake of her head.
"Ha! As if you haven't done that already," Franne smirked.
"Ah, but what is the point to having a little sister if I can't spoil her?" Mahvir joked.
"He loooves me," Lori giggled as she leaned into his side.
Mahvir wrapped his arm around her. "That I do, little princess."