Chapter Text
“You’re oddly charming for a man I found wandering the woods”
Rina Trevelyan, the Herald of Andraste, leaned on the wooden wall with a suave expression.
Blackwall cleared his throat, returning her smile with a hint of surprise. “I’ve always thought of myself as more odd than charming, but I’ll gladly accept a compliment from a lady. They’re hard to come by these days.”
“Compliments? Or ladies?”
“Both…” he chuckled. “So, is there something large and heavy you need moving?”
“No need for manual labour in exchange for compliments. You can have more, I store them in my personal quarters.”
The Herald’s smile was cocky and she talked in a manner Blackwall has never seen in a high-born woman.
“Wow, I… Uh, well.” he felt himself blushing and coughed to gain some time for coming up with a response. “I was not expecting that. I’m flattered by that tempting offer, I’ll have to consider it. Carefully.”
Rina didn’t say anything else, her grin only grew wider, before she turned around and walked away like nothing happened. Blackwall couldn’t take his eyes off the sway of her hips, wondering if she was doing that on purpose, until she disappeared behind Haven’s walls.
For all the time he spent in the forest, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been with a woman. Or even spoke to one, especially one that was this beautiful and directly interested. To his own surprise he actually was considering her proposition, but as he said, very carefully. Was it genuine? It could have been just playful banter, or a test of some sorts.
He had no idea what she would be trying to accomplish with such a test, but there were plenty of things he didn’t understand about her.
The day she closed the tear in the sky changed the perspective. Song, food and wine, people were falling into eachothers arms. They wouldn’t be the only ones spending the night… celebrating.
Sun had already set, as Blackwall walked slowly through the crowd. The Herald was standing on top of the stairs with Cassandra, admiring the crowd's relieved joy.
He was just about to turn around, seeing the Herald in company, when she noticed him.
“Blackwall!” Her voice was filled with delight as she bounded down the stairs and leaped into his arms. The last thing he expected was the Herald of Andraste, who had closed the breech, who was revered by the people of Haven, to fall into his arms. Despite being bigger than the whole world, she felt small and light in his embrace, a surprising contrast to the enormity of the moment.
Sudden tooling of bells. Terrified screams.
Commander ran towards them and Rina quickly broke away, rushing toward Cullen.
“What's going on?”
…
The first words Blackwall spoke to anyone, since Herald disappeared under the avalanche, were in Skyhold.
He was standing alone, silently watching the people gathering near the gates, when Sera jumped over the debris straight to his side.
“So, her Gracious Ladybits is the big hat now. Been through a lot, that one. Every time she almost dies she gets a new title. I’m running out of nicknames.”
“You’re right; it’s concerning.” Blackwall said, crossing his arms.
“I’m not concerned, I’m angry! Angry face!”
He glanced at the strange elf, stifling a laugh. With her furious expression, she resembled a puffed-up, hissing kitten.
“So, who is it exactly that you’re angry at?”
“All the things! I joined to stop a little war, full of little baddies I can stick with little arrows… That’s not a frigging Archdemon, is it?! A magister-god-monster? It’s got to be nonsense, right?”
“I’m afraid we’re past the point of denying it, it's what we do now that’s important.”
The newly appointed leader of the Inquisition walked down the stairs and joined the group of her advisors. They attempted to discuss something but were continually interrupted by people eager to see the Herald of Andraste. There seemed to be a never ending swarm of those willing to abandon their lives, flocking to her banner.
“How pretty is she, that we actually think this shite is possible?”
Blackwall chuckled, though Sera had a point. The cold mountain breeze made the inquisitorial banners flutter, along with the Inquisitor’s dark hair. She scrunched her nose in annoyance, trying to brush it out of her face.
“I think it’s more than just a pretty face that keeps us here,”
“Yeah, the rest is nice as well, too skinny for my tastes, though. Anyways, I just want stuff back to normal. And payday. Lots and lots of coin.” Sera eyed him with curiosity. “So, what’s your thing?”
“I used to not be able to look away from the breech. Now that it’s closed and just a scar remains, it reminds me that we can actually fix all this fucking mess.”
“Yeah, and you know what it looks like.”
“What does it look like?”
“You knoooow.”
Blackwall blinked a few times before he understood.
“...no it doesn’t!”
“Yes it does!”
“Maker’s balls…”
“Not really, but close. Anyways, that was a… talk, see you ‘round, Beardy!”
…
They saw each other again soon. The Inquisitor gathered a four-person party, as usual, to venture into the Hinterlands. Despite having spent several days in the region already and establishing Inquisition facilities there, she needed to return in person to close the remaining rifts.
The four of them arrived at the camp on the outskirts at night, but before they could retire to their tents, Cassandra called them over, standing by the fire.
“We need to discuss a strategy for the upcoming fights, Inquisitor.”
Rina nodded silently, sitting on the ground next to Sera, who groaned with annoyance.
“What’s there to discuss? Stick ‘em with arrows and swords until they stop moving.”
The Seeker shot her a disapproving look before turning her attention back to the group.
“Considering how the Inquisitor is the only one capable of sealing the rifts, she needs to be close and ready, but out of the immediate combat. I propose that she stays within Sera’s range, while Blackwall and I deal with the demons.”
Her odd, third-person way of speaking made all of them look at eachother, puzzled. With a roll of her eyes, she clarified for Sera.
“I mean for you to keep an eye on her, while covering us from a distance.”
“Yeah sure, we’ll be close like two pickles in a jar.”
The Inquisitor interjected, politely but earnestly. “I can’t help but notice how I’m excluded from that strategy.”
“I mean no offence, Inquisitor. You are the Herald and key to our victory, but not a soldier. You’ll be safer out of combat.”
In the morning, they set out on foot for their first target. Rina led the way with Cassandra by her side, both carrying shields inscribed with the Inquisition’s crest. Blackwall caught up with them.
“Do you know how to use it, Inquisitor?” he asked.
“She doesn’t need to.” Cassandra replied in her place.
“Then why arm her with gear she doesn’t know how to use?”
“Lady Herald is the head of the Inquisition and needs to present as such. It’s symbolic.” Seeker’s voice was calm, but her face betrayed the desire not to be questioned.
“Trotting about with gear she isn’t trained in only alerts the enemies as her being an easy target.”
The Warden and Seeker engaged in a discussion until they realized the Inquisitor had stopped walking. She stood with her arms crossed, a discontent expression on her face.
“It would be appreciated if you’d stop talking about me as if I’m not there.”
Both warriors offered their apologies, but Rina pressed on.
“I am more than capable of handling my matters myself, Blackwall. If you’re concerned for my safety, you should rather concentrate on those targeting me.”
He didn’t speak, embarrassed by her stern tone.
“... you too, Cassandra. Explaining my position to those who question only undermines my leadership.”
After she said her piece, the Herald pushed past between them. Sera could be heard giggling to the side.
“Oh bummer, you've made mummy angry! Go stand in front of stuff, once your arses stop burning.”
…
Despite the hurt egos, Cassandra’s strategy was proving effective. Protected by Sera’s arrows, the Inquisitor consistently managed to close the rifts while her warriors held back the demons.
Every time the fade hummed, forced into imploding by the Herald’s anchor, Blackwall stared, mesmerised.
“I’m glad you found me when you did.” he said, catching his breath. “As much as exciting wandering the woods was, this is better.”
“I’m glad to have you by my side as well.” Inquisitor responded, also winded, as commanding the raw force in her hand tired out her body.
There was little time for conversation, but their talk naturally resumed that evening. Being closer to Redcliffe than any Inquisition camp, the group decided to spend the night in the tavern.
Rina joined Blackwall by the table, bringing two portions of hot supper.
“I don’t really know much about you, Blackwall.”
“Me? I’m afraid my life is dull in comparison to yours.”
“Your name doesn’t sound Orlesian and your accent doesn’t sound Fereldan. A Marcher then?”
“A good ear,” he smiled. “I’m from Markham, originally.”
“Oh, I had this naive hope you’d be from Ostwick,” she pouted, her eyes taking on a shape of upset.
“You’re missing your homeland, I take it?”
“It always made me feel secure. And so do you.”
There was only a second of real emotion, before Rina fixed her shoulders and was once again the perfect picture of noble composure.
“But I don’t have the luxury of being homesick. If I don’t succeed, there will be no home to return to. Not Ostwick nor Markham.”
Blackwall felt the familiar heaviness in his chest; the burden of words not allowed to be spoken.
“There is no home for me anymore.”
Sera interrupted the moment, placing three cups of ale before them.
“Look at you, all serious. Thankfully, all that righteous bullcrap gets free drinks around here. Glory to the Inquisition!” she mocked, arranging the cups.
“Sera!” Rina scolded in a shocked whisper. “We are not drinking tonight! There is so much tomorrow –”
“Oh, pish-posh! Can’t be bigger than yourself. You're still human, right? Humans eat and drink.”
“She has a point, Inquisitor. It's not like we'll be drinking to a stupor and you look like you could use a relaxer. Besides, I’ve seen Sera drink the equivalent of three soldiers’ night and still pin a fly to the wall with her arrow.”
“Yeah, that was something, right?” the elf laughed.
After one cup the Inquisitor retired for the evening, trusting Blackwall to keep Sera from getting drunk. They shared another drink and despite complaining, the Elf also went to sleep.
The ale gave the Warden a pleasant buzz in his head and he found himself once again thinking about Rina. He passed her door in the hallway and noticed a faint light coming from under it, meaning she was still up. Undressing perhaps or washing herself…
Blackwall tried to shake off the thought, but what if she fell asleep with the candle still burning? That would justify him entering.
A charming man, she called him. Invited to her quarters.
But that was a long time ago; the rules had twisted since then. He found his own room and collapsed onto the bed with a grunt. A tingle stirred in his lower body, reminding him of the gentle, soft Herald resting just behind the wall. He swatted away his hand, lingering near the lacing of his breeches.
Blackwall was still the same man she had found wandering the woods—only now, he wandered those woods with her, trying his best to focus on those targeting the Inquisitor and not on how her skin would feel under his touch.
With a curse on his lips, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.