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His leaden legs plod slowly up the stairs; weighed down with guilt, shame, and the cold dread of what awaits him at the top. Undergoing Evelyn’s judgement in the Great Hall had been painful enough - the way she peered down at him from her lofty throne, as though he were a stranger to her now.
I am a stranger, he realises and his heart clenches with terrible anguish. Whatever had passed between them before was all built on lies. The man she professed to love, the Warden Blackwall - that wasn’t him, it was who he wished he could be, if not for the mistakes of his past.
He does not know what to hope for; what outcome would be worse. For her to continue to treat him with such distant coldness; or to unleash her full fury upon him, cursing him and rueing the day they met.
Finally he reaches the landing and he stands awkwardly at the margin of the stairs, not daring to further invade her quarters. Evelyn sits at her desk and if she has noticed his arrival, she gives no indication; her attention fixed firmly on her work, her pen slowly scratching across the page.
His eyes dwell on her slender fingers, recalling the feeling of them curling tight in his beard; the pads of them digging hard and wanting into his bare skin. He traverses up her arm; silky hair cascades over one shoulder and the stiff collar of her robe gives only a tantalising glimpse of her neck.
When he settles on her rosy mouth, he wets his own dry, calloused lips. The thought that he will never again drown in her kisses leaves him parched and aching. Her brilliant eyes remain hidden beneath the charcoal fan of her lashes, and the silence has stretched on so long, he convinces himself that perhaps she did not actually hear him enter.
“You asked to see me,” he ventures and her pen seizes above the page. Deliberately she lays it flat, head still bowed as she breathes in slowly, gathering herself. Finally she looks up, and pain blooms in his chest when her eyes slide to a fixed point beyond his shoulder, rather than directly on him.
Her lips press together to speak his stolen name and she catches herself, her fine brows pinching. “Rainer,” she manages at last, hissing through her teeth; invoking his true name like a curse. “You have your freedom, I wanted to know what you intend to do now.”
He takes a tentative step forward, “If my future is mine, then I pledge it to the Inquisition. My sword is yours.”
“What makes you think I want it?” She springs from her chair, palms slapping against the desk. Her jaw clenches and she meets his eyes at last, “That I would want to see you here at all.”
“You wouldn’t have to see me,” he assures her, taking another step forward. “I know I have no right to ask.”
“Correct, you do not,” she snaps, crossing her arms.
He stops moving, deciding to not press his luck. He closes his eyes, he can smell her perfume from here and it is torturous having this vast chasm between them. She is hurting and all he wants is to hold her, to comfort her; but he is the cause of her suffering - all he does it hurt her.
“You are angry with me, as you should be,” his shoulders fall, arms hanging helplessly at his sides. “I tried to tell you.”
“I was angry with you, it’s true.” He misses her gentle voice; these terse, strangled words do not sound like her. “If I had any sense or self-respect, I would have left you to rot in that Orlesian prison.”
“They would have hung me eventually,” he rasps and she turns sharply, pacing away from her desk, hands clenched tight and white-knuckled at her side. She is so stiff and rigid - like a stilted replica of his shy, soft Evelyn. Of all the crimes he has committed, this is the worst. Doing this to her - hardening her.
“Yet you live and the burden of that is mine.” She half turns to him. “Whatever you now choose to do with your life, whatever actions you take - for good or ill - I am responsible. I have enabled it.” She clutches at her chest, as though to support the crushing weight of her guilty heart.
“You shouldn’t bear that burden, it isn’t right,” he protests, her agony compounding his.
“Isn’t it? Who else should take the blame, but I? With whom should I be angry, if not myself?” Evelyn’s mouth twists bitterly - those delicate lips that til late held only smiles for him; sweet words and sweeter kisses. “A woman of principle you called me,” she scoffs, her lip curling with self-reproach.
“When it came down to it though, ‘Do whatever it takes’, I commanded Josephine. Buy whoever, bully whoever, because I could not bear…” She turns her back upon him again, her shoulders quaking.
Seeing her like this is a hundred times harder than facing the gallows. All he had wanted was to fix his mistakes; to stop running from his past and leaving his men to suffer for his cowardice. He wanted to be the honest, resolute man that Evelyn believed him to be. All he has accomplished however, is to taint the one good thing in his life.
“My lady-”
“Do not!” she exhorts, rounding angrily on him.
“You should have left me,” he insists, “I was ready for it to end.”
“I wasn’t!” she scowls at him, “You could have told me.”
“I wanted to. I wanted to believe I could change, that I could be a better man. But in the end I was still too much of a coward to tell you the truth. So I ran away. Again.”
“To die?” she utters in disbelief.
“What I did was wrong. What I did to my men was worse. I couldn’t stand by and let another man die for my crimes. I thought it was better this way. Better that you didn’t know what I truly was.”
“Better?” she spits, her face flushing with rage. “Do you honestly think this wouldn’t have come to my attention - that I wouldn’t find out? When I had Leliana searching for you everywhere!” She casts about herself, sorrow once again replacing the blazing anger in her eyes. “Because I was frantic at the thought that something had happened to you. After what happened to the other Wardens, I thought that Corypheus might have called to you. Taken you from me.”
He gapes at her, wrought speechless; his heart twisting in knots. It had not even occurred to him that she might have thought such a thing. He had been so caught up in his own head, in his belief that she would truly be better off without him. He suddenly recalls their final night together; Evelyn panting and writhing beneath him in his loft. He thought he would die with that last, sweet moment imprinted on his mind. Even in that he was so unforgivably selfish, taking from her and then leaving her.
Evelyn is trembling, tears threatening to spill from her glistening eyes. “Only to find you in Val Royeaux on the gallows,” she mewls, her voice thick with emotion, “If I’d been a moment later, they would have… you would have been…"
“My sweet lady.” In two long strides he is before her, crushing her in his embrace. “My dear heart. Forgive me.” She sinks into him, burying her face against his chest, hands fisting in his coat. “I wanted to make things right, but all I do is make things worse. I should never have let you get close to me. I should not have been so selfish.” He tries to pull away from her and her hands tighten.
“Don’t leave me,” she sobs, “Don’t ever leave me like that again.”
“I swear to you,” he eases his hand under her chin, tilting her tear-streaked face up at him, “I, Thom Rainier, make this promise - that I will stay by your side and strive for the rest of my days, to be worthy of you. To make you proud.”
Her face crumbles, stricken with guilt, “Who am I, to hold others to a higher standard, after what I have done?”
“No, no,” he cradles her face in his palms, “You see the best in people. You lift them up and help them believe they can be better. You give them that chance, when no other would. It isn’t wrong, to believe in redemption.”
“Then why don’t you?” she cries, her lips quivering. He bows his head, one hand repeatedly stroking her hair as he attempts to muster a reply, but she has rendered him speechless once again. Her hands pluck at his coat, smoothing up toward his shoulders. He shakes his head, his mind blank; he has no answer for her.
“Thom…” she murmurs gently, petting his beard. The sound of his name, falling from her mouth in her soft, sweet voice - something breaks inside him and he lets out a ragged exhale; on the verge of tears himself. He cannot speak, so he curves his hand behind her neck, pressing his lips over hers.
Evelyn’s arms twine around his neck, rising on her toes and tilting her head. She brushes her tongue against the front of his mouth and he moans, parting his lips in invitation. He drops one hand to her hip and her body rolls against him, as she nibbles on his lip and flicks her tongue into his mouth, teasing him. He chases after her furtive tongue with his own and then breaks away to press kisses along her jaw and to the juncture of her throat.
She tips her head back with a breathy sigh, his fingers fumbling with the fastening of her collar. It is an impossible task, given the way his hand trembles when he spies the glistening remnant of tears on her skin. He curls his hand into a fist, snatching it away from her - he doesn’t deserve to touch her.
“This is wrong,” he insists, attempting to pull away from her, but she clings tight around his neck. “Evelyn please… After all I’ve done to you, I’m not worthy.”
“Isn’t that for me to decide?” she says firmly, fingers carding through the hair at the nape of his neck.
“I will abide by my vow, my sword is yours. But this… you could have any man you want - someone better than I.” His hands hover above her, fighting the desperate urge to touch her, “Someone that can give you everything you deserve.”
She leans against him, eyes sparkling with suggestive intent. “There’s only one man that can give me everything I want,” she whispers, angling her mouth enticingly toward his. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, a ragged moan breaking from him.
“You’re alive,” she says in a tiny voice, nuzzling her nose against the side of his head. “You’re here. I don’t care about anything else, not truly.”
He crushes his mouth against hers, hands curving over her ass and pulling her up against him. She whimpers, clever fingers making quick work of the buckles on his coat and pushing it off his shoulders.
He reaches behind to wrangle it off his arms and Evelyn doesn’t hesitate, tugging his shirt up out of his trousers. “Wait-wait,” he insists, trying to reach for the ties on her robe, but she doesn’t stop. She pulls his shirt up over his head and he has no choice but to raise his arms, tossing it hastily to the floor.
His heart is racing at her relentless assault on his clothing, but a moment of reprieve arrives when she presses her palms against his chest. He makes a third attempt to unravel the intricate cords that fasten her silken robes. Sweat beads across his brow - his thick fingers may as well be useless lumps of clay, for all the success they afford him.
Evelyn’s hands are rapidly traversing down his body toward his waistband and he grunts in frustration, his shoulders falling in dismay. He drops his hands, looking at her helplessly and she laughs gently, taking pity on him.
“Awww,” she coos, her expression softening with adoration; warming him from head to toe. She turns her attention to her robes, unfastening them with practiced ease. He smooths his hands over the soft, shimmering fabric; anxious to feel her body without it, a feverish craving pulsing under his skin.
She glances up at him from beneath her lashes; his ravenous focus on her slowly opening robe draws a pink flush to her cheeks. His hands dip inside the open front of her robe, creeping up over her shoulders to slip it off. It flutters down to pool at her feet and he rakes his fingers across her shoulder blades; his calloused pads eliciting a shiver of delight as they caress her creamy skin.
Leaning forward, he peppers kisses along her collarbone, traces her spine and worms his fingers beneath the margin of her breastband. It goes slack, as Evelyn tugs the front bindings loose and he peels it away from her body, his teeth grazing her shoulder.
He kisses her, her arms twining once more around his neck and she mewls into his mouth, as her nipples brush against the coarse hair on his chest. Picking her up, he eagerly carries her to bed; not breaking their kiss until she is comfortably settled back on the mattress, his large frame curled over her.
Evelyn whimpers and squirms so delightfully when he cups her breasts, brushing his mouth over the soft swell of them - his beard tickling her sensitive skin. When he presses his lips around one pebbled nipple, she gasps and arches into his mouth; fingers twisting tightly in his hair and her legs coiling around his.
He glances up at her lovely flushed face, her bottom lip caught by her teeth. Gently, he cups her cheek in the palm of his hand and she drops her loving eyes to meet his. His pulse thrums at the sight - there is no doubt he owes her his life in more ways than one. He was a lost soul before her met her; a dead man walking. Now his heart beats only for her - the answering pulse in his groin roused only by her.
Turning his attention to her other nipple, he rasps his tongue over it, savouring the tang of her skin. Her legs clench around him, her hips rolling up toward him.
“Blackwall,” she moans and then stiffens.
“It’s alright,” he murmurs, stroking her sides to soothe her. “I don’t care what you call me,” he dips his head to trail kisses down her stomach, “So long as you keep calling for me.”
Sitting back on his knees, he slides his hands over her hips and down her thighs. Grasping the end of one of her ribbon garters, he pulls firmly - the red silk slowly unravelling and falling away. He tosses it carelessly over his shoulder and Evelyn chuckles, the sound cutting off sharply as he rolls down her stocking and plants a kiss on the inside of her knee. He repeats the motion with her other stocking, grazing his hands up her bare legs and pressing a second kiss on her opposite knee.
Evelyn surges up off the mattress, grasping at the cords on his trousers. He catches her hands and settles her onto her back again. Looming over her, he firmly presses her wrists down on either side of her head.
“Patience,” he rumbles in her ear and Evelyn nods mutely; watching him with wide-eyes and her chest heaving with excitement. Shifting back to his knees, his attention lands on the damp patch seeping through the crotch of her smalls.
Maker’s balls, he bites down hard, his cock throbbing at the sight. He licks his lips, brushing his thumbs along the hem of her knickers and Evelyn lets out a high-pitched whimper, watching him with a quaking intensity.
Shuffling down the bed, he gets comfortable on his stomach and leans in, pressing the flat of his tongue against the wet patch to taste her. Evelyn’s hips jerk up off the bed, arching into his face and he presses his arms over her thighs.
“Easy girl,” he snickers, “I haven’t even started yet.”
“Please Thom,” she begs, so sweetly he cannot possibly refuse her. He peels her smalls down, consigning them to the floor with the rest of Evelyn’s clothes. He hooks her leg over his shoulder, squeezing the back of her thigh and presses his other hand against her belly to hold her down.
“Oh… hah-ah…” she pants and squirms when he slowly rakes his tongue along her slippery cunt. He moans at the musky taste of her, placing an open mouthed kiss over her sensitive little nub, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. He laps eagerly across her folds, alternating between soft, slow strokes and firm, teasing thrusts.
“Please, please,” she mewls, grinding against his mouth when he mercilessly teases her entrance with flickering swipes. Taking his hand from her thigh, he circles his finger around it. “Thom!” she wails in torment, tugging on his hair and he chuckles against her clit, pressing his finger inside her. She clenches tight around it and his cock twitches eagerly. Sliding a second digit in, he curls his fingers, searching for that ridged spot that drives Evelyn to swift, shuddering climaxes.
She is incoherent and restless, as he works her with his fingers and tongue, but soon she becomes quiet and tense. Her pelvis curls up off the bed and her thighs clamp tight against him - right on the precipice. He moans against her clit, urging her on and suddenly her legs jerk, a broken cry tearing from her lungs. He stills his fingers inside her, gently lapping at her through her orgasm, until he feels her leg fall heavy and limp on his back.
Evelyn’s arm is slung across her eyes, chest rising and falling with gasping breaths. He kisses her thigh, beard damp with her slick juices, before rising from the bed to yank off his boots and push his trousers down.
Grasping the base of his cock, he grunts as he gives it a squeeze; fighting the urge to press between her legs and hammer himself to completion.
Evelyn raises her arm, bliss-glazed eyes raking over him. “Come here,” she murmurs, holding her hand out in invitation. He crawls back onto the bed and she pulls him down, rolling him over onto his back and clambering atop. He lets out a needy groan when she grinds her slick heat along the length of his cock. Evelyn presses her fingers against his pecs, massaging his chest and curling her fingers through the short, wiry hair there.
Admiring his face, a sadness seems to creep over her features once more and she drops her gaze. Suddenly, she collapses against him, hugging him tightly with her whole body.
Softly cradling her head, he tries to lift it up to look at him, “Ev?”
“I love you,” she murmurs, burrowing into his chest. Her plaintive tone makes it sound less of a declaration and more an admonishment cut short - I love you… don’t you know that, you blighted arse? He imagines.
Maker, at this rate, his heart was going to burst before his cock got the chance.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he says, gently stroking her hair, following its path down across her back. “Because I love you too.” He holds her tightly for a time in silence, craning his neck to kiss the top of her head; inhaling the subtle, flowery scent of her hair.
“Would you…” she shifts against his chest, furtively casting a glance up toward him. He watches her patiently - adoringly - as she bashfully ducks her face behind the curtain of her hair, releasing a tremulous sigh. “Would you… h-hold me down again?”
Her timid words drag a long, guttural groan from him and he cradles her, rolling over so she is nestled beneath him once more. Locking his lips over hers, he drives his tongue into her mouth, reaching between them to stroke his shaft. Lining the head of his cock up against her, he presses just the tip inside and Evelyn inhales sharply through her nose. With brittle self-control he holds himself still, catching her wrists and pressing them into the mattress above her head.
“Look at me,” he begs, brushing his nose against hers. Evelyn opens her eyes, a deep furrow knitting her brow, as he slowly plunges inside her. Enveloped at last by her delicious, wet heat, he releases a shuddering groan, pressing his forehead to hers. Rolling his hips, he pistons inside her and a keening moan falls from her lips, her hands flexing against the bed.
He repeats the motion, setting an even, relentless pace and Evelyn bucks up against him, her heels digging into his backside. He latches his mouth onto the side of her neck, pressure steadily building in his groin. As always, his thoughts remain suspended between disbelief and awe; the surreal notion that this must all be a dream. After everything, he couldn’t believe that Evelyn would still let him touch her - let alone bury himself in the depths of her sweet, tight cunt.
Yet here she was beneath him - her voice; her eyes; her body, clamouring for him, clenching around him. His arms are shaking and with one final heave his balls tighten and an exquisite pleasure bursts from his cock and behind his eyes; racing along his spine and streaking down his arms and legs; warm and wonderful. His arms and legs give out and he keels over sideways so as not to crush her.
Evelyn snuggles up against him and pulls his limp arm over her; stroking his ribs and his back, as he attempts to learn how to breathe again. Eventually his racing heart settles and he presses his nose against the top of Evelyn’s head, her scent calming his frantic breaths to a slow, steady rhythm.
He wakes with a snort, realising he has been dozing; roused by Evelyn’s attempts to tug the bed covers out from under him. He struggles to sit up, but Evelyn places a hand on his chest, pressing him back down.
“It’s alright darling, go to sleep.” She plants a kiss above his eyebrow and he lifts his hips so that Evelyn can slide the covers out. He settles back down into his warm furrow, as she arranges the blankets over the top of him. He peels one eye open, realising that she intends to creep off the bed. He lurches forward to wrap his arm around her waist and he drags her back down beside him.
“I have work to do,” she protests feebly.
“Mmph,” he grunts emphatically, spreading the blankets over her and pressing his chest against her back. His large hand splays over her abdomen, holding her tight as he nibbles on her ear. Eventually she relaxes and resigns herself to bed with a sigh. He smirks and drifts off once more into a deep, satisfied sleep.