Title: Restoring Faith
Rating: k+ ish
Summary: SPOILER ALERT! FemInquisitor Rogue Trevelyan/Blackwall pairing. I sneaked a peek at the Blackwall romance storyline. Not enough to really spoil it, but it got me to thinking. This is what came of it. The Inquisitor confronts Blackwall after retrieving him from (names deleted, to preserve spoilers) to transport back to Skyhold. Resolving issues that could arise from the situation.
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age Inquisition nor the rights to it. I am making no money from writing and posting this story. It is simply to share for the enjoyment of all. Or my own enjoyment if everyone else thinks it sucks.
Author Notes: I have no beta, forgive typos and grammatical and punctuation errors, and general oopsies. This is just for fun so don't be a downer. If you don't like it and feel you just must comment I can't stop you, but I can use sour comments to lure a Wvern or dragon next time I am visiting Thedas. Constructive criticism is always welcome. And I love reviews.
On to the story.
Analia Trevelyan was certain that it was inappropriate for the leader of the Inquisition, Herald of Andraste, to weep in public. Especially not at the sight of one of her most trusted companions being led forward in chains for a prisoner transfer. She'd have to thank Josephine properly for smoothing the way for this. She nodded to his guards respectfully and motioned for Cassandra and Bull to take possession of their friend.
Blackwall, for that was who he'd always be to her, was soon loaded and they had taken their leave. She needed desperately to speak with him, but knew she'd have to wait until they were outside the city. She waited until the second rest break for the horses. Cassandra and Bull had made their protests, and she'd eventually quelled their worries. The true nature of his crime had been revealed and they became more at ease leaving her with him. Thankfully Dorian understood, he'd been with her during the visit with Blackwall in his cell.
Analia tied Strider to the wagon and joined Blackwall inside. She had the guard strike the chains and then dismissed him. Cassandra would be in charge for the trip to Skyhold, or until such time that Analia was finished with her discourse. Either way, they had ample time alone to talk. More importantly she had time to make him listen to what she had to say.
It was stuffy in the closed wagon with it's tiny window. They were silent for a while, watching each other across the small space in the dim light of the lamps on the wall. She didn't know how to start, and he didn't know if his words would be welcome. Still, he was first to break the silence. "I told you to make me go, to end it. Ah, Lady, I know what you must think of me."
"Oh," She knew her own thoughts, of course, but wanted to hear what he thought she should be thinking, "what must I think of you?" She asked him keeping her voice carefully neutral.
"That I am a fiend, false, a traitor," her heart constricted painfully at the self-loathing in his beloved voice, "dishonorable."
"Oh, at first, I did, I was furious with you for just leaving. Do you know how worried I was?" She stopped to gather herself. "That's not so now, I had time to think on this mess. Do you know what I see before me? I see a man who gave up his self. He set aside who he was and took up the mantle of another, the one who gave his life so that you might live. You have lived as he would to honor him. Were you dishonorable we would not be where we are. Were you truly a dishonorable man, you would have let your secret die with an innocent man who had been accused and convicted of that crime."
"I wanted to but…" he trailed off.
"Wanting to and doing so are very different things. You think I haven't wanted to say, 'to the Black City with this Inquisition' because I have. I have on several occasions wanted to walk away from all of this. The point is I haven't, and neither did you."
"Inquisitor-"
"NO!" She silenced him abruptly, " Damn it, I'm not the Inquisitor to you. Never to you. I can not bare the thought that the one I love most can not see me past the title. Please don't take the only one that sees, simply Analia Trevelyan and not the Herald of Andraste. Please, please, don't take that from me." She knew that she'd moved from begging to pleading helplessly, but she would not apologize for it. Most days she felt that she would lose her self in all of this. This man, no matter his name, was her anchor to that self. She feared greatly what she would become if she lost that tether he represented. "Maker, please just please?"
"Nali," he used this name for her very sparely and it got her attention, "I'm no good for you. I'm not the man you thought."
"You are exactly the man I've grown to love these long months. You may have started as this man Rainier using another's name to hide himself, but being Blackwall has changed that man into the one before me. Can you say that you are that Thom Rainier that set aside his name to take Blackwall? Have you not lived as you think Blackwall would have lived?" She leaned forward to take his face into her hands and insure that their eyes met.
"I suppose I have." Her thumb caressed his face of it's own accord. He felt the tremble in her hands.
"Are you not continuing his work as he would have done it?"
"Of course, I am."
"Aside from letting go of your own name, and taking Blackwall's have you been untrue to yourself in any of this. Would you have done these things whether or not you were in hiding as another? Have you gone against your own nature?"
"Absolutely not." His tone was indignant now, and she was glad of that. Anything was better than the resignation that had plagued his tone for too long now.
"Then it is apparent to me that you have done a marvelous job of honoring both men. The man you were, and the man that sacrificed himself so that you might live. Take that to heart, continue to be the man that you have become. You are both men, you can not be just Thom Rainier, nor can you simply be Blackwall, so be Thom Blackwall. A man who spends hour upon hour carving the grandest toys and then gives them to refugee families without a care for recompense. A man who takes untrained, hopeless men and teaches them the skill to protect themselves from bandits. A man that I can not see myself continuing on without." Her fingers were caressing the skin above his beard and combing through the beard itself.
His soft chuckle nearly made her swoon, so welcome a sound was it. "You sneaky wench. You have been herding me to this throughout the whole exchange, haven't you."
"Did you just call the herald of Andraste a wench?" She was teasing, and he loved that she could make fun of the position that fate had thrust upon her. His hands covered hers, still framing his face.
"I would never. T'would be disgracefully blasphemous of me. The woman of my heart, however, is a sneaky wench." She could see the grin twitching his moustache.
She laughed lightly. "They're the same person."
"So they are, I suppose I'm irreverent then." His breath tickled her lips and made her shiver.
"Thank the Maker for that." She was still grinning but her tone was sober. "Promise me that you'll not let me take all this too seriously. Don't let me buy into my own legend. Always remind me that I am simply me and I shall never let you forget that you are my Thom Blackwall. A kind, honorable, and very good man."
A light sheen moved across his eyes in the dim light as she spoke. "I will, love." His hands were tight on hers, entwining their fingers.
"Good." She used their enmeshed fingers to hold him as she leaned in and captured his lips with her own. He stayed with the kiss for a long time, gently deepening it as his calloused palms found their way to cupping her own face. Her hands meanwhile were drifting away from the thick beard and wrapping tight around his shoulders. "I could not bear to lose you, my Blackwall." She said when they parted.
"Nor I you, Nali." He kept their eyes locked as he said this, but let her lean against him when he'd finished. They sat silent, holding tight, for a long while after that.
Finally, Analia sighed resigned to finishing the business she'd come here to discuss. "We still must have a formal judgment. We must do this officially and correctly to uphold the treaty with Orlais. For now, on the road and away from prying eyes, you have guarded freedom within our group. When we get closer to Skyhold you'll have to remain in the wagon, but only for appearances sake."
"Who shall be my guard? Cassandra and Bull, I suppose." He was annoyed but knew the importance of keeping the Orlesians happy. Her grin worried him a little. "Don't give me over to Dorian, love. He'll delight in tormenting me."
"As if any of those three could adequately watch over a slippery mischief like you. It takes a sneaky wench to restrain a slippery mischief." Her grin widened to a full smile. "Though if you are planning on riding anywhere but this wagon you'll have to double up on some one else's horse. We've no spare mounts this trip. You'd be welcome to join me upon Strider."
He'd caught on and there was a twinkle of mischief indeed in his eyes. "You favor that damnable Courser too much."
"He is a magnificent horse." She pulled away to give him a disapproving look defensive of her favorite stallion. "You just don't like him because of his violent objection to you handling him."
"That's truth, it is. He came near to breaking my fool neck." Her posture had stiffened with the thought of finding him in the fields, unconscious and bleeding from being thrown from the spirited mount. He'd been trying to help her by taking Strider out for some exercise to ease her load that day. He noticed her rigidity and caressed her tattooed chin. "If you can get him to behave himself, I'll gladly ride with you." He said this while holding her face still so he could nuzzle her nose with his own.
"I'll keep him in line, but we'll have to wait for the next rest break for it. Whatever shall we do with ourselves?" She finished the question with a playful nip of his bottom lip.
He gave a masculine chuckle. "I'm certain, between the two of us, we can think of something to pass the time," he gave her a wicked grin, "pleasurably." He took her mouth then and her giggle strangled off into a moan. Both sounds were music to his ears.
Hours later, as Blackwall's solid warmth settled behind her on her horse, Analia knew that they had a fighting chance against the elder one. She also realized, as his hands settled at her waist and it send delicious tingles through her to feel his presence there, that she had started to believe she might come through this madness with her self intact. Blackwall would see to it that she did.