A/N: This is contains a major spoiler for Dragon Age: Inquisition. If you have plans to play the game unspoiled, go no further.

A/N2: I've used a lot of dialog from the game itself in this fic but I've moved bits here and there and shuffled things about so they aren't an exact match anymore. I have no real qualms with the way the game handled this particular arc. I just wanted a bit more than the game would allow...so I wrote it. Also, I moved a judgment scene from the Main Hall of Skyhold to its prison because the choice made is pretty much wasted if the Inquisitor announces it to everyone.

"Blackwall!"

She didn't realize she'd screamed his name until those in the mob hungrily waiting for a hanging…waiting for justice…turned toward her with curiosity.

He'd heard her though. Before, when he'd been speaking, he'd addressed the crowd from the gallows standing before a condemned prisoner with a hangman's' noose about his neck, looking here and there among them. Now he looked directly at her, a pained expression flashing across his face before he shifted his stance, planting his feet more firmly, all pain hidden away as he spoke words she didn't understand the meaning of. That confused and chilled her.

"No. I am not Blackwall." His head shifted to the side and an almost pleading sound entered his voice before he hardened the words again. "I never was Blackwall. Warden Blackwall is dead and has been for years."

No he wasn't, he was standing before her. The same man who'd held her that night, that wonderful glorious night when he'd loved her with a touch both rough and gentle. He was right there. See, he was even still speaking!

"I assumed his name to hide like a coward from who I really am."

She shook her head trying to clear the buzzing confusion. Who he really was? He was the man who'd guarded her back during a dozen or more skirmishes. The man who looked quickly away whenever she caught him staring at her, a rueful smile nearly hidden by the density of his beard. The man who'd whispered words of love and happiness as he kissed his way down her body making her shudder with need and nearly grovel with want.

"It's over." He'd turned from her now, addressing the poor sap with the hangman's noose about his neck. "I'm done hiding." For the briefest moment he seemed to pause, or maybe it was her imagination, but then he was turning back, facing her once more, his eyes unbearably sad, his shoulders braced as if waiting for an attack.

An attack from her? Why…

"I gave the order. The crime is mine. I am Thom Rainier."

The air expelled from her lungs, the feeling not unlike the force of a fist punched in her gut. Stunned she could only look at him, only stare as the words echoed around and around in her thoughts like a demented, off- key tune from a carousel ride.

But…but he couldn't be. He was Blackwall. He was a Grey Warden. He was the man who'd leaned her against the wall of the stable, almost as if he was positioning her perfectly, planning his siege with thoughtful deliberation before swooping in for their first kiss. He couldn't be this Thom Rainier.

Anger burned low in her gut and she remembered to breathe again. Of course he wasn't. This was some act…some gesture of nobility for reasons she didn't understand. Blackwall had decided this man needed saving so he was lying, telling this horrible tale as some sort of scheme to free the condemned man from the gallows.

Well, she wasn't going to allow it. She needed him…the Inquisition needed him…and she would be bloody well damned if she'd permit this self-sacrifice as some part of a twisted atonement because he felt unworthy. This was all part of his believing he could never be what she wanted and she was going to put an end to that twisted wrong way of thinking once and for all.

Temper firmly in check, she clenched her jaw, determined to charge forward and demand the truth be told…only to pause. Why not use the Grey Warden Rite of Conscription? Claim the man for his order rather than suffer a member to trade places? Why the long complicated ruse?

It must be his Calling.

Comprehension widened her eyes. Yes, his Calling. He was hearing it, knew he didn't have much time left so he'd chosen to die this way…

No, that didn't make sense, either.

But there was a reason. There had to be.

And dammit, she was going to demand it from him.

Pushing through the crowd took time and she lost him from her sight almost immediately as guards escorted him away from the scaffolding. Finally she was clear but rather than waste time running around screaming his name like she wanted to, she charged up the stairs of the gallows and faced the guard captain who'd been in charge of the execution.

A silver masque hid his face but he was shaking his head. "Can you believe it? Thom Rainier himself."

She almost stumbled, the glee, the satisfaction in the guard's voice jerking her from her determination. "You must know something about Rainier." She said, the words pulling themselves from a gut burning with an acid dread.

"I know what everyone knows." See, everyone knew this Rainier. That was why Blackwall had chosen the name. It wasn't random or…or a coincidence or… "He'll hang for the massacre of a noble and his family."

Massacre? A family? Four children, the charges had read. But this…why would he…this was insane and didn't make any sense…

"Inquisitor." Varric's gentle tone sliced through her with the sharpness of a paper cut that leaves burning, throbbing pain behind.

She shook his touch off her arm not looking away from the guard captain. "Where did they take…the prisoner?" She managed the words because she had to. Because this wasn't real. None of it was real.

He couldn't be…

"In the jail off the marketplace. If you've goodbyes to say, say them now." The guard captain shook his head again. "It's a damned mess, but believe you me, it'll be sorted out quick. Lots of people can't wait to see that man swing."

"He won't…" She began in a hot snarl but Varric pulled her back.

"Come on, Inquisitor, I know the way." He said, his firm grip on her arm letting her know that resisting wasn't an option.

"This is a mistake." She said under her breath, her mind racing. "There has to be some reason, some story that explains all of this."

Varric glanced at her and the pity in his expression sent hot, angry tears to her eyes. "Then we'll let him tell it to us."

"He can't…he's a hero! He's saved your life and mine a dozen times over!" She burst out. "He's not a murderer! A killer of children! He can't…this is so wrong. So very wrong."

Varric shook his head and she jerked her arm away from him in a sudden fury.

"How dare you believe this lie!" She demanded shoving her face near his with anger. "You know Blackwell…"

"I know stories, Inquisitor." Varric cut her off but not with anger or sharpness. Just a sad empathy. "I know when the tale being told doesn't quite mesh and you have to handwave all the little details that don't add up because, yeah, the man has saved your life and you trust him. And I know when the story I hear makes sense and not only explains but fits." He gave a tired sigh. "This one fits."

She nearly broke right then and there. "I don't want it to fit." Aghast at the almost whimper that came from the words, she pushed her shoulders back and inhaled deeply through her nose. "It seems to me the best source of information comes from the man himself."

"They might not let you near him." Varric warned.

Her gaze hardened, her confusion buried deep under a fierce determination. "I believe they won't have a choice." She stated in flat tones and stomped toward the jail.

The demand to see Blackwall took time and patience and politics. When she ran out of all three Cullen had to step forward and smooth the way for her with the commanding officers to the point where the bribe Varric offered was finally accepted and she was allowed entry to the lower cells where Bla…where he was being kept.

The place stank of feces and pain and despair but she didn't let it stop her. She had to see him. She had to understand. There was still a chance that this was all an elaborate ploy of some kind and if she could just talk to him, he would clear it up and they would laugh and things would be alright between them, the way they should be.

The sight of him sitting quietly on a bench, behind solid grey bars, his head bowed, his gaze on something at his feet, finally killed the last bit of hope in her. Her steps slowed and then finally stopped altogether.

There was silence.

She knew he was aware of her…as aware of her as she had been of him since the day they had met. A sort of sixth sense that had only deepened the night they'd finally become…

Briefly she looked away and literally had no idea what to say.

"I didn't take Blackwall's life." He finally spoke, not looking up at her. "I traded his death."

The deep, gravelly burr of his voice pulled at her, reminding her of how he'd whispered her name in her ear, their flesh pressed so close together and how he'd asked for more, demanded more and given it to her in return.

She closed her eyes against the memories and swallowed down emotions that were too much like grief.

Like someone had died.

"He wanted me for the Wardens, but there was an ambush. Darkspawn. He was killed." She didn't move closer. Didn't give any sign that his words were even being heard. "I took his name to stop the world from losing a good man." He twitched then, his head turning slightly toward her, almost as if he wanted to look at her and lost his courage at the last moment. "But a good man…the man he was…wouldn't have let another die in his place."

The words seemed to break the frozen feel of her limbs and she moved closer to the bars that didn't separate them nearly so much as the words coming from his soul.

"So you thought you would just die and disappear. That I wouldn't find you." A scoffing note echoed disbelief as she gazed down at him.

He still didn't look up. "I didn't want you to see me like this."

Her mouth fell open. "You wanted me to think you left me? That you were dead or worse?" She demanded. "You'd break my heart and call it better?"

"You weren't supposed to find me." A note of accusation sharpened his tone but it was dulled by his inability to look away from that fascinating spot on the floor. "You were just supposed to think I was gone."

Supposed to…to think he was gone…to not…how could he think she wouldn't look? That her love was nothing more than a spigot to be turned on and off on a whim?

Anger swirled with the grief and the pain. "You mean you didn't want me to know you. The real you."

She had no idea what he heard in her voice, what prompted him to action, but finally he stood, shaking his head, approaching the bars that separated them, looking at her for the first time since she'd entered. "Don't you understand?" The words were sharper now, edged with an almost visceral desperation that she hear him, see him. "I gave the order to kill Lord Callier, his entourage, and I lied to my men about what they were doing!" He slammed his manacle free hands against the bars wrapping his fingers around them before jerking hard upon the gate, emphasizing his crimes with each discordant sound. Bowing his head again, he continued his declaration of guilt. "When it came to light, I ran."

She wanted to tell him to stop. To shut up. The lie wasn't funny anymore, the joke gone flat. Only not even she could dismiss the broken man before her as his confession continued.

"Those men, my men, paid for my treason while I was pretending to be a better man!"

Pretended to be more than just a better man. Pretended to be a lover. A partner. Someone she could trust not just with her life, with her mission, but with her very body.

Shaking her head, she stepped back from the bars. She couldn't do this. Something inside her was tearing and the wound felt mortal and she could not bear to hear any more of his 'truth'.

He didn't stop. Didn't allow her the luxury of her denial. "This is what I am! A murderer. A traitor…a monster." He seemed to lose his fierceness as the words tumbled from his mouth, stealing what strength he had with him, leaving him to sink to his knees before the bars, kneeling before her, almost in supplication, his head bowed in anguish.

She didn't know what to say. How to feel. Her mind, her body was caught up in a hazy fog of denial and rejection and revulsion and grief. Mute, she stared at him.

"D'you know what my first thought was when I read the report of Mornay's capture?" He still didn't look up at her. "Relief. He would die and I would be free and there would be one less man to ever look at Blackwall the Grey Warden and see Thom Rainier the coward."

A scoffing noise huffed from her nose. "And clearly that was exactly the plan you followed through with."

"Are you not even listening?" He surged to his feet shouting at her. "I had just come from your arms, your warm beautiful body and I read that report again and I knew I could be free. All I had to do was let a man die and you would never know. Thom Rainier would be a name with no meaning to you and I wouldn't have to see the disgust and the hate in your eyes when you learned the truth."

"I don't hate you." She said automatically, gazing at him with wide eyes. "Bla…" She cut off the name that wasn't his and heard a bitter laugh from him mocking her for the slip. "It may have been your first thought, but I wouldn't be standing here…" I wouldn't be hurting so much "…if you had followed through with it."

The bitter anger seeped from his shoulders leaving him a bent and broken man. "How could I? I took Blackwall's name, took his honor and his great deeds and made them my own. I tried to be the man he would have been…the man you graced with your love. How could I be the man you kissed with such passion knowing that another was swinging from a noose in my place?"

She closed her eyes, flushing at the reminder of their night together.

"Wouldn't you be happier thinking I was a noble man, a Grey Warden, instead of this?" His voice was even now, steady. "I would've saved you the pain of learning that all you knew about me was a lie." In that calm voice, that even tone, he delivered the fatal blow. "That you loved a lie."

This wasn't right. It couldn't be right. Her judgment couldn't have been so completely wrong. She couldn't have been such a fool. "There was truth to what we had." She had to believe that. To believe…to accept otherwise… "And there is good in you." She had seen it. Very nearly daily! In casual gestures and words said automatically, without thought to gain, that protected the weak. "I have to believe that." Because believing otherwise would destroy her.

He said nothing and took her several moments to understand he had said all he was going to. That she was left…with nothing.

Her eyes closed as she carefully built a wall around her pain, her anguish and bricked it up nice and tight. She couldn't deal with the ache of her emotions, not now. Not while she was still so confused. Still trying to reconcile the broken murderer before her with the strong and fierce protector who had loved her.

When she had herself under control, she took a single step toward him, determined not to show weakness again.

"I need to know about Blackwall. The real Blackwall." And saying those words suddenly made everything real. Made it final and irrevocable.

For a moment she thought he wouldn't speak, then slowly he gained his feet and faced her. His expression as remote, as controlled as her own as he told her of meeting the Grey Warden in a tavern, of being recruited and the acts that led to the real Blackwall taking a fatal blow meant for Thom Rainier. Then he answered her question about his crime, about who the real Thom Rainier was.

Both of them were so polite, so formal it could have been strangers speaking rather than two people who had spent a long, hot night making each other moan and sweat. Two people who had…

She couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't pretend she didn't feel, didn't hurt…didn't want to throw up at her own stupidity, at letting a murderer of children not only touch her body but that she enjoyed that touch. That even now, staring at him through dull metal bars in a damp prison ward that smelled of things foul and diseased she still craved that touch.

"That's all for now." She managed, turning away from those bars, from that man that it turned out she didn't know at all.

Nearly blind with thoughts that dashed about her head, she had one purpose only…get out, get away and deal with this ripping agony in her soul. She rose up the stairs once more, ignoring the guards, brushing past them in her struggle to get free of this…this place and its truths.

"I have Leliana's report on Thom Rainier." A familiar voice called to her, stopping her escape.

She stopped mid-step, pausing, considering running for the door only a moment before pride had her turning back. Numb, she accepted the scroll from Cullen and looked directly down at it, not wanting to see his expression.

"Give me the overview." She said in remote tones she was proud of.

Cullen summarized the report and a distant part of her noted that it actually matched what Bla…what he…the prisoner…had told her in his prison cell.

"This is helpful." She said keeping all trace of bitter irony from her voice. "Or at least educational." Well, okay, maybe not all.

"Don't blame yourself." Cullen said trying to meet her gaze but she successfully dodged him. "We all made this mistake."

Which mistake was that? Believing he was a Grey Warden? Having faith that he would protect her men as they struggled to support the Inquisition and its various needs? Trusting him to guard her back in battle? Allowing him to touch her body, to see places in her soul she allowed no one else…

A soft sigh from Cullen broke that chain of thoughts before it destroyed the last vestige of her control. "What do we now? Black…Rainier has accepted his fate, but you don't have to. We have resources."

Fate? Accepted his…abruptly she remembered the gallows. The warning that Bla…he would be hung quickly for his crimes.

Cullen continued. "If he's released to us, you may pass judgment on him yourself."

Pass judgment on him? Right now she couldn't even look at him.

"If it were up to you, what would happen?" Yes, pass on the responsibility to another like a coward.

Fury snarled Cullen's features. "What he did to the men under his command was unacceptable. He betrayed their trust. Betrayed ours. I despise him for it."

That was sound…that was right. So why couldn't she, why didn't she feel the same way?

"And yet he fought as a Warden. Joined the Inquisition. Gave his blood for our cause. And the moment he shakes off his past, he turns around and owns up to it. Why?" Ah, yes, there was the reason she couldn't hate him.

"Some part of you is impressed by what he did, isn't it?" She murmured, a half smile curving her lips.

Cullen gazed at her steadily, as if he knew the turmoil swirling inside of her and wanted to help. "Saving Mornay the way he did took courage, I'll give him that." A rueful tinge narrowed his gaze. "But I can't tell you what to do."

No. No, he couldn't. Only she didn't know what she wanted to do. She only knew that any final decision she made right now would be the wrong one. But leaving Bla…him in a prison to be hanged wasn't the right choice, either.

"Have Rainier released to us." She said in firm tones.

Cullen nodded his head but his scarred face gave nothing away to say if he approved of her decision or not. "We must move quickly. I'll send word to Leliana and Lady Josephine asking for suggestions on the best way to remove him. Their contacts will be invaluable in this effort."

"Agreed. I leave it in your capable hands." She said with a nod of her head before turning on her heel and leaving the smell of death and pain behind her as she exited the jail.

Another place. Another prison.

Same man. Same woman.

At least the smell this time was dusty cold air from the gaping hole where half the prison had dropped off the mountain itself.

His hands were still manacled before him, even behind the bars, as if he were a dangerous criminal the guard would take no chances on. He was dangerous, she mused walking closer to the cell, this hunched over and broken caricature of a hero…of a man. Just not to anyone else but her.

"I didn't think this would be easy…" She broke the silence, her gaze on his bowed head. "But it's harder than I thought."

"Another thing to regret." The bitter words rumbled from his deep chest but his head remained bowed, unable to look at her.

She wasn't sure she could do this. Judge him? How…

"I know you put another man in my place. Haven't enough died for me?" He demanded abruptly, his head rising as he finally looked at her, his eyes showing the fierce glint she had become accustomed to seeing in the man she lo…

"I wish there had been were another way but my options were limited." She began in a placating tone that he immediately rejected.

"You could have left me there!" He spoke the words surging toward the bars, toward her. "I accepted my punishment! I was ready for all this to end. Why would you stop it?"

Did he not know? Was he being deliberately obtuse? Or was this just another lie, just another trick that she was too stupid to read the truth of?

"What becomes of me now?" There was a despondent tone to his voice. As if the words were simply rote and he no longer cared about their meaning or their answer.

She'd spent days asking herself that same question. Knowing that she would have to face him, that she would have to look directly into eyes that had once looked at her with such tenderness and she would have to declare his sentence.

"The massacre of the Callier family and their retainers took place in Orlais. I have no jurisdiction over that crime. That murder." She forced the words out, tried to make them even. "Impersonating a Warden will have those at Weisshaupt upset with you but considering you did nothing but champion their name, it seems an unnecessary step that will cause more problems than it solves."

He stared at her, his matted hair covering one eye until he impatiently shoved the strands back.

"The only crimes I can judge you for are those against the Inquisition itself." She would not balk at this. Would not falter. "We used the Treaties you handed us with a permission you didn't have leaving us on shaky ground with the legality of their use. Commander Cullen believes that after Adamant the Grey Wardens really don't have a leg to stand on, morally or legally and that no harm has come from their use. You will not be punished for that lie."

She couldn't read his face, couldn't read his eyes. Had it only been weeks ago that she had deluded herself into thinking that she could?

"It's been suggested that you remain as Blackwall and give legality to any future use of the Treaties or the Rite of Conscription. That we would benefit from the appearance of a Grey Warden among our ranks."

"So I'm to live the lie until you release me from it?" He rasped at her, his anger clear.

"Since when has living that lie become difficult?" She snarled back, losing her calm demeanor, her removed façade.

"Since the night I held you under me and…"

"Do not speak of it!" She surged forward until the bars and a scant amount of space were the only things between them. "How could you do that to…" She cut the words off, clamping her mouth shut. Fists clenching and unclenching she had to look away from him, unable to see his face, his lips, and maintain her resolve.

Once she was sure she was under control again, she raised her gaze to his once more.

"I denied the suggestion for reasons that are irrelevant." Her tone was cool again. "After consideration it was decided that any harm from your actions had balanced out against the good you had also done. The Inquisition has nothing further to judge you for."

He stared at her, his shoulders tense. "Nothing to judge me for." He repeated the words as if he didn't quite understand them.

"Nothing." She reiterated lifting her chin.

"And you?" He stepped closer to the bars, his palms wrapping about them with a white knuckled grip. "Surely there is something…"

"I will not use my position as a personal weapon." Her voice was flat and firm. "You lied to me. You let me believe that lie…love that lie. You betrayed me…" The even tones shattered with what was almost a sob, but she refused to look away from him. "I will not judge you for your crimes against me. I cannot be impartial. Not now." Licking her lips she looked away from him, regaining control before staring him down once more. "Since I cannot be unbiased I recuse myself from this matter leaving the Inquisition only one course of action regarding you and your crimes."

With deft movements she used the key in her hand to twist the lock and open the cage.

"You have your freedom." Done with talking and uncertain how many more emotions she was going to flagellate herself with, she turned away determined to leave.

He caught her arm, the chains binding his hands clinking with the movement of holding her back. "It cannot be as simple as that."

Simple? Simple? She'd tossed away a fortune in bribes, replaced him with another man who was hung in his stead, had him smuggled from Orlais to Skyhold like a piece of contraband, ignored her own shattered self-confidence, her flailing self-worth while struggling with feelings of love and guilt and hurt and he thought this was simple?

Quelling the urge to kill him herself and put waste to all of that effort, she swallowed down her pride and looked back at him carefully pulling her arm free. "It isn't." She tried to keep the vicious satisfaction at that thought from her words but the small flinch he gave told of her failure. "You're free to atone as the man you are. Not the traitor you thought you were or the Warden you pretended to be."

For a heartbeat then two he stared at her and she saw hope crest in his eyes. "It will take time." He began and seemed unable to keep her gaze, looking down once more before forcing his gaze back to her own. "You would accept that? And what I used to be?"

The words caught in her throat and she wasn't even sure what she meant to say. How she could say anything. Accept? Accept a murderer of children? How?

Blessed Andraste, she couldn't do this. Couldn't hear this…she had to remain in control. She had to keep it together. "Blackwall gave you the chance to atone through action, not merely punishment." The words came out smooth and even and she began to believe she could pull this off. "I find I can do no less." She tried to walk away but he caught her again, refusing to let her go.

"That can't be all." There was a plea in his voice. "You wouldn't have done all of this…wouldn't have brought me here only to let me go free…there must be…I know I lied about who I was but I never lied about what I felt." He seemed to sense her wavering, her hesitation and moved closer. "No matter what I was or what becomes of me, right now, I am just a man with his heart laid bare. I leave it in your hands."

She closed her eyes and gave up the struggle to hold part of herself back, to protect herself knowing if she opened to him again he could well destroy her with the next lie. Swallowing hard, she spoke through a voice husky with tears. "You were ready to die but I wasn't ready to let go." The words were soft and broken gave him the only hope she could manage. "Until I decide…until I can decide…your place is here."

He struggled, as if what she said gave him both hope and left him craving for something more. Finally he shook his head from side to side. "I don't know how to be with you as Thom Rainier."

Once more she pulled herself free, a bitter smile touching her lips. "Start with honesty."

He took that blow and faced her. "It'll be a nice change."

She couldn't do this anymore. "Guard!" She called leaving the corridor as fast as her legs would carry her. "Release his manacles."

She didn't look back.