(-)

Until he found the woman in the woods, Blackwall had settled in for a sleepless night.

The Hinterlands were quiet as the grave when they weren't being flooded by bandits, demons, and every other sort of filth that roamed the earth. Deep enough into their interior and the silence got eerie at night. The forest made some noise-the wind in the branches, the nearby waterfall—but it wasn't much.

Silence wasn't conducive to sleep for Blackwall. Too much room for thought. He rarely slept through the night, but given how unpredictable the safety of the Hinterlands had been lately, this was more blessing than curse.

He woke from a light sleep sometime close to dawn, when it was still dim and shadowy. Cold, too. Strong cold that pierced every garment. It was no worse outdoors than in, so he rose, dressed, hung the sword at his side, lit the lantern, and left for the woods. There were traps there to check. Game had been scarce, and trapping seemed excessive when he didn't plan to stay long, but still, anything was better than trading in the Hinterlands. Resources were so scarce that the hunters could do nothing but demand an arm and a leg for whatever they had to offer.

He kept an eye out, as he went, and both ears open—he knew the sounds of the woods and the waterfall so well that he could distinguish anything extra. He heard nothing but the squelching from his own boots until the sounds of a fight broke out.

He was, very briefly, startled.

First came a crash through the trees, and with it shouts, and more, smaller crashes. A woman yelled, a pained and panicked sound that ended in a swing and a grunt.

Blackwall drew his sword and moved in the direction of the fight. The lantern lit only a small distance ahead of him, and the light shook furiously as he went.

"Use your magic," shouted a man's voice, out of breath, between blows, "Why? Why don't you use your fuckin' magic?"

There was a smash of something hitting wooden shield.

"Got no magic," said a woman's breathless voice. "I told you I've got no magic."

There was a massive crash, and the woman yelped with pain. And again. This time, more panicked, and fainter; there was a thrashing sound, the sound of something dragging, crackling, over the forest floor, and then, out of nowhere, a high-pitched, drawn-out scream from the man.

As the sound drew Blackwall toward a clearing, and as the lantern lit up parts of two figures, there was the ugly chunk of a blade hitting flesh. Then, silence.

Blackwall stood still, and there in the path of the lantern was a woman holding an axe.

The woman was alone, shaking, and so dazed that she didn't, at first, look into the light. She was tall, black-haired, and, in the yellow light, seemed bloodlessly pale. She turned to look at him; she had one black eye and a cut across her lip.

"Thought I saw light coming toward me," she said. Her voice was low, sick, and raspy. "I mean no harm."

"If you mean no harm, then lower your blade," said Blackwall, wondering how much of what she said was true.

She tilted her head back, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

"Lower yours. Then we'll talk," she said. She then twitched and began shaking more fiercely, clinging to and hunching around her axe as though she were an old lady and the axe her cane.

"All right," said Blackwall, and sheathed his sword. She lowered the axe, moving closer, but continued to watch him narrow-eyed. "Talk, then. Tell me your business here. Why is there a body behind you?"

The woman leaned forward and squinted at him, as though having trouble focusing.

"Beg pardon?" she asked.

"There's a body behind you," repeated Blackwall, louder, pointing. "What's that doing there?"

"Oh," said the woman. She wiped her brow on the back of her hand, and shrugged. Up close, he saw that her face shone with sweat. "Templar. Rogue Templar. A very stupid rogue Templar, who wasn't able to understand that, uh," she took in a deep breath, "I don't have magic, being that I'm using an axe."

"I see," said Blackwall. The body, from what he could make out, had been chopped at like a piece of meat. Blackish blood coated the grass around it.

The woman nodded gravely. Then she stumbled, grasped at the trunk of a nearby tree, and slid to the ground, staring dully at Blackwall all the while.

She made a face.

"Oh," she said.

"Oh, what?" he asked, unsure what had gotten her looking at him so fixedly.

"You're a, uh," she waved her hand around, looking for the words. Then out of nowhere she pitched forward and vomited on the ground between her legs.

"…Grey Warden," she concluded, tilting her head upright and wiping her mouth. "Got the symbol."

"Don't like the wardens much, do you?" he asked, wondering if she was drunk.

"Wardens are all right. I don't feel well," she said.

"Yes," he said. "I'd…worked that much out."

"Think I've been poisoned," she said. Her eyes were already half-shut, whites visible.

She crooked her finger at him.

"Come here," she said.

He took a cautious step closer. She opened her eyes with some effort, and looked up at him, glazed and unseeing.

"If you got hold of my son," she slurred. "I'm going to make you wish you were dead."

Her eyes closed again. She gently crumpled to the ground, twitching.

(-)

Hi, readers who've made it this far :) Disclaimer, I don't own any bit of the DA universe.

However, I definitely get the impression that Thedas must be quite the shitty place to live and the world events of all the DA games quite the shitty times to live through. So I've thrown two OCs into the Inquisition timeline to navigate all the shittiness. Also, there will be Blackwall/OC romance because why not, could get interesting.

All right. That's about it. Read! Review! Favorite! Do whatever the hell you want! Preferably keep reading though.