Northstar Vale zwilling

he had known, had loved andraste far too long not to note her unfurling, the melancholy that clung to her mien down to the very gait. solemnly he lay down his bundle of snowdrops, wincing inwardly to recall the last thing he had said to her.
"i vas cruel, andraste," mahler rolled from his chest with apology coloring the syllables. he was genuine in his attendance of her, chastised and chased with guilt.
what remained between them would soon be revealed, but mahler would not allow himself to fill the space with hate during the waiting.
her shroud of quietude was flung round her slender shoulders; in his mind she was aurëwen, but now it was a cool regent who had deigned to spare him an audience.