So much of Blackwall's romance arc is doom and gloom. I wanted to explore, even if briefly, what some happy moments between them might look like.


There are people in this world so hungry that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread. ~Mahatma Gandhi

Though Blackwall was used to an active life and staying too long in the fortress never sat well with him, coming home to Skyhold was always blessed relief. The sight of the castle's sturdy walls and towers, even the snow that blanketed the rooftops and peaks, bolstered his spirits after spending so long in the punishing desert of western Orlais. After a very near brush with death on a failed expedition in his youth, he'd sworn never to set foot to sand again. However, it was an oath he was willing to break for Aelis. His lady required his assistance and he was happy to oblige her, not least because it meant he could assure himself of her safety in person and avoid pining after her absence.

His lady. Blackwall stole a glance sideways at Aelis, who seemed equally weary and just as relieved to be home as they crossed the causeway and rode through the gates and into the courtyard. The journey had been long and a good meal, clean clothes, and a bath wouldn't go amiss for both of them, but he loved to look at her in any condition. The times when she chose to ride out without him were few and far between, but he was never easy until he could see her in the flesh once more, grinning as she sidled up to him in the quiet shadows of the barn to curl into his arms like one of the hardy cats that kept him company in her absence. Nothing was certain for a soldier, but everyone needed someone to look out for them on occasion - even a great striding dreadnaught of a woman like Aelis, fierce beauty that she was - and no one had as good a reason to protect her as he had.

It had been more than two month now since he had tried to end it. After the heartwrenching trip to the Storm Coast, where he had failed once again at telling the truth, he had gone to her and nearly begged her to put an end to what he was feeling once and for all. She could no longer afford the distraction. He could not afford to let her get closer to the disaster that was his real life than she already had. He was so far beneath her that nothing good could ever come of letting those feelings continue further, and yet one look into those sea-grey eyes and he was lost. And, it had been more than a month now since she had refused, sealing his fate with a kiss and settling herself so deeply into his heart that he could do nothing but surrender. It would turn out to be a mistake; he knew this. But what a glorious mistake. A mistake he could make over and over again every day that he woke up and remembered that she loved him, and that he loved her.

The horses' hooves clattered across the old stones and gravel as the returning party mustered in the stable yard. Blackwall winced and stretched his sore knees stiffly as he dismounted amid the milieu of stablehands and soldiers. Aelis jolted down on her heels a few feet away, and paused to scratch the neck and ears of her solid chestnut warhorse affectionately, smiling and murmuring to the creature before a groom led it away. Like anyone who had ever ridden cavalry, she understood that the bond between horse and rider was just as important as between comrades on foot, but Aelis had a fondness for animals that Blackwall found both endearing and unexpected, given her growly nature. It was all too easy to see her as a near-mythic figure sometimes - even for him - and watching her take a moment to dote on her horse or play with one of the castle's dogs humanized her and reminded him that she was, behind the shadow of the Inquisitor and beneath her fearsome exterior, a young woman much like any other in the most important ways.

Aelis caught him staring then and her lips tipped up knowingly at him her for a moment, an eyebrow raising in acknowledgement before she turned away again Tired, sweaty, and smelling of horse and dirt, with sand still sifting around in their boots and clothes after more than a week of travel, she could still make his heart flutter in his chest just with that smile. Blackwall felt his cheeks straining and even blushing as he fought back his own smile, and turned to see to his mount, running a hand over the dappled grey's smooth neck and loosening its girth.

They had agreed to keep their involvement a secret for the time being so as not to cause a fuss or raise speculation, which meant that they had to be careful around prying eyes. It was easier to arrange to be alone at the castle, but the recent desert campaign had been hard-fought and the moments they could steal together were few and shorter than they would have liked. Another reason to celebrate the home-coming. Barring unforeseen circumstances, tonight would be the first evening he and Aelis would have all to themselves in quite awhile.

As the column broke up and Aelis was pulled away to brief her council of advisors on their progress in the Approach, Blackwall led his horse back to its stall and saw to its care himself. It was a practice that he'd gotten used to over the last few years. The work soothed him as much as it did the horse and gave him time to wind down from a day of traveling. He wanted to be at his best tonight, without the fears and troubles of the desert on his mind.

The mission had been troubling in more ways than he could count. The problems with the Grey Wardens and their Calling and the demon army they were supposedly raising was a mess beyond anything he could have fathomed, horrific in its details and implications as surely as it was dangerous and inconvenient to his ongoing deception. Questions had already arisen - was he experiencing the Calling like all the other Wardens? What were his brothers in arms thinking? - and he'd deflected them well enough for the time being. Warden Stroud hadn't batted an eye or contradicted him, so either he was good enough at the lie now to fool even a real Warden or the man simply had too much else on his mind to notice any errors. It had kept his teeth on edge to be certain, though.

That was a problem for later, however. Right now, it was enough to be still alive and back home. He'd join Iron Bull and Sera in the tavern for a hot meal once he was clean enough to be presentable. The elf girl could easily wolf down a half dozen bowls of stew after a long march, though she remained as bone thin as ever, and he had a running bet with Iron Bull that predicted at least seven bowls and a pie. They were good company, Sera and Iron Bull, though the Qunari was too perceptive for Blackwall's liking. It would be good to catch up with Varric and perhaps even that daft apostate Solas after having been gone for so long. Aelis would no doubt have to attend to her councillors and whatever noble stuff-shirts were on hand, but they had already agreed to meet in her chambers later when she could get away. The anticipation of being able to touch her again and take his time about it - as well as the thought of kissing her properly and well instead of just quickly before someone could blunder up and catch them - roused the electric appetite that made his spine shiver and his insides warm. That bath might have to be a cold one.

Later, the tavern was loud and rowdy, as it always was when men had returned from the field. Blackwall let the myriad voices and the bard's music wash over and around him amid the smells of beer, food, pipe smoke, and many bodies all together in the same place. It faded the desert and its problems from his mind as surely as the thoughts of what awaited him later did. He drank his ale and shared stories and jokes about the mission - with interjected commentary and chatter from Sera, of course - while he picked up the latest news from Varric and Iron Bull and the others.

The Empress' grand ball in the Winter Palace would be coming up soon. The Inquisition had been afforded an invitation to attend after all. Nest of vipers, he could already hear Aelis snort, but she'd go all the same. And that might be even more dangerous than the desert had been, since she wasn't the type to be well acquainted with Orlais' Great Game. It was, perhaps, the first time ever that he had actually hoped she would take the pompous Grand Enchanter with her on a mission. No one was as suited to help her navigate the cutthroat Orlesian nobility as Madame Vivienne de Fer, much as Blackwall loathed the woman personally.

With his hunger sated and the world feeling like a friendlier place after a couple of mugs of ale, Blackwall pushed his chair back and announced that he was going to turn in early and get some decent sleep after a month of laying his head in the sand. His friends raised a final glass to him to bid him goodnight and then fell back to chatting among themselves. He stopped by the bar on his way out to ask for a bottle of sweet wine for the road. Aelis held her ale or whiskey as well as anyone, but tonight felt special and he wanted to bring her something better than the usual tavern stock.

A few people lingered in the great hall, lesser nobles and other officials of the Inquisition deep in conversation, but they paid Blackwall no mind as he crossed the floor to the entrance to the Inquisitor's tower. Aelis often preferred to work from the warm and well-lit solar in her quarters, and so it was not unusual for her companions to call on her there. No one would think anything of Blackwall attending her, even at this time of the evening, and that was what they were both banking on. His heartbeat skipped as he mounted the stairs, disturbing the ravens that roosted in the unfinished body of the tower, and rapped upon her door.

There was a momentary silence and then the sound of footsteps padding on stone before the door opened and Aelis' face appeared around it, haloed by a nimbus of slightly damp red hair. Her cheeks still had a rosy glow from scrubbing to them and the smell of soap reached Blackwall's nose. Evidently, she had just finished washing and that knowledge sent his thoughts immediately to what he might have seen if he had been a few minutes prompter. As it was, she grinned at him and opened the door fully, revealing herself to be clothed in a soft knee-length tunic. She fixed him with a dramatic expression, eyes widening in mock dismay, with her hands on her hips.

"What's this? A brigand at my door? And me fresh from my bath and barely decent!"

Maker, they had only been at this for a short time and she already knew exactly how to wind him up. Silhouetted there in the doorway, without the usual bulk of her armor and thick clothing, it was harder to keep his eyes on her face instead of boorishly imagining what she looked like under that light shift, and she knew it. Unable to staunch a grin of his own, he followed her into her chamber. Her eyes sparkled mirth as she closed the door behind him and leaned back against it.

"Now, I hope you're not bent on mischief, sir," she teased, her voice taking on a deeper and more arch tone that made his nerves thrill as she prolonged the joke.

Unable to stop himself, and not wanting to besides, Blackwall laid a hand against the rough wood of the door behind her and slid his free hand under the curtain of her hair to caress her neck where it was most sensitive. Her skin was warm and her body reacted to the touch exactly as he had known it would. He could still scarcely believe that she would allow this, but the soft breath that escaped her parting lips was evidence enough that it was more than mere permission she was giving. He leaned closer, pinning her between him and the door, playing the lewd intruder to her innocent maiden as she wanted him to.

"If the lady requires mischief, I'm sure I could oblige," he rumbled near her ear, though it was difficult to maintain his concentration when her body was pressed against him so. She kissed him then, deeply and sincerely and for what seemed to be both a long moment and no time at all to Blackwall. Her bare arms wrapped around him and, when the kiss was done, she leaned her head against his shoulder, exhaling a sigh that sounded like relief and satisfaction. Weeks had passed without him being able to hold her like this, and Blackwall savored the feel of her body relaxing completely beneath his fingers and the smell of her hair and skin.

"I've missed this," she murmured into his neck and then threaded her fingers into his, squeezing his hand as she stepped back, smiling, and pulled him further into the room.

Her chamber was in one of the taller towers, but comfortably furnished and graced with two balconies and banks of large windows through which the snowy vista of the Frostbacks was visible under a star-strewn sky. A fire was crackling in the large hearth already, warming the room and providing enough light to comfortably see by. Aelis moved to the settee before the hearth, pausing to take two goblets from a side table. Blackwall broke the wax seal and gripped the cork of the wine bottle, easing it out and filling the cups before accepting one himself.

"We're fancy tonight," Aelis remarked playfully as she rolled the wine around in the goblet. "Can't open a new bottle without marking the occasion. What should we toast to?"

"Home? Good company?" he suggested, sitting down close to her. He smiled, eying her figure suggestively. "Good wine and beautiful women?"

"Ha! You are out for mischief tonight," laughed Aelis, though delighted, as she shifted into a more comfortable position. It was the first time he could recall seeing her bare legs, the strong calves arching in pleasant curves up to her knees and an inch or two of well-turned thigh before the rest was cloaked by her tunic. He wanted to run his hand up those curves, trace her knee, and perhaps further up as well, but the evening was young yet. No need to rush. Aelis raised her glass. "Well, to all of it then. To home-coming, to good company, to fine wine, beautiful women, and also this particular bearded bloke that I've taken a fancy to. May we never lack for any of it."

Blackwall could drink to that sentiment and did so, raising his glass along with hers. The wine was decent, sweet on the tongue with a pleasant fiery undertaste and a hint of honey. Not Orlesian, but not bad for a Ferelden vintage. The preliminaries out of the way, he allowed himself to relax into the comfortable seat, an arm curling around Aelis' shoulders as she moved to be close to him.

Life really didn't get much better, with a pleasant room and a fire, the heady kick of the wine and the woman he loved a warm and alluring presence beside him. It was perfect, and though allowing himself this comfort instead of his usual lonely asceticism aroused his guilt and a habitual undercurrent of unease, Blackwall could put that aside briefly simply to appreciate the rare moment of peace in a world that had grown increasingly difficult of late.

"I wish it could always be like this," Aelis sighed after a long and comfortable silence, her eyes closed, her face smooth and untroubled. "No Corypheus. No Breach. No one trying to get me to sort out every damned problem under the sun. No sneaking around because the truth might offend someone. Just you and me in front of a fire and everything as it should be."

The sentiment warmed him - that she wanted him, that she could envision a life with him in it - but it pricked at him all the same because he knew that, even without the danger looming over the world, he could never give her that. A life with him would be equally problematic, just for different reasons. Blackwall shifted a little, his hand rubbing the bare flesh of her upper arm. He didn't want to think about that now. Not on such a pleasant night.

"You don't think you'd find it dull after all this excitement?" he asked, and she snorted a laugh.

"If this is excitement, I can understand why you'd want to spend most of your life wandering around the countryside trying to scare up recruits and staying out of everyone else's way," she replied. Aelis drew back a little bit then, sipping her wine, and then stretched her neck to one side and the other, wincing sorely. "Who knows. Maybe when this is all done, I'll join up myself. I've no intention of being some holy figurehead forever, and I can't imagine there's going to be much use for an Inquisitor after the Chantry is sorted out. Joining the Wardens might be the safest bet if I wanted to quietly take a bow and disappear. If there are any Wardens left after all this business with the demons and the Calling."

Blackwall felt his chest tighten with the mention of the Wardens and he looked at Aelis. Her brow had knit, though her eyes had the faraway look that meant she was thinking about something that troubled her. He moved his hand up to her neck, rubbing the tense muscles there and she sighed, closing her eyes and letting her chin fall forward.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he told her, trying to deflect the conversation away from dangerous territory as he kneaded the knots from her necked and set his cup aside to move on to her shoulders. She turned, presenting her shoulderblades, and he sank his fingers into the thick muscles around them, hearing her moan softly as she arched her back. As he worked on her, she turned her head a little to glance back at him.

"Is it hard being a Warden? I've heard the stories, I've read the bits and pieces we've picked up along the way. The way Stroud talks sometimes makes it sound like a terrible burden. I know it can't be easy, but is it really as bad as all that?"

"It's a necessary duty. And an honor," Blackwall told her, remembering with discomfort the words that Warden Blackwall had spoken to him all those years ago. It didn't feel like such a lie if what he was saying was actually true, just not a truth he'd experienced himself. "It's hard, but you go into knowing that it's hard and that it's worth it in the end if it keeps the world safe from Blight and Darkspawn. It's a worthy sacrifice."

The room was silent for a moment, save for the crackle of the fireplace. Aelis was still, pondering, as Blackwall worked at the tension in her back, his large hands moving further down, rubbing large circles into the stiff flesh near her lower spine.

"You don't like to talk about it, I know," she began again and then hesitated. She took a deep breath. "But, I was thinking about what Stroud said about the Calling and . . . what happens. How all the Orlesian Wardens are having the nightmares and hearing awful things in their head. I know you said you weren't afraid of it, but I don't like to think of that happening to you and not being able to do anything about it. You'd tell me if it was that bad? So I could find a way to help?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Blackwall assured her, firmly, though he could feel his heart sinking deeper under the weight of another lie. "I swore to see this through and that's what I'm going to do."

He should have told her the truth that day up on the sea cliffs and had done with it. If there was anyone who would understand, with her background, it was Aelis. But the way she had looked at him that day under the dripping trees among the ruins of his old life - all that hope in her eyes, all that willingness to believe the best of him - had left him speechless. He hadn't been able to disappoint her, and after that it was too late. He kept having to spin the lie deeper and tighter around them, and he hated it. But what else could he do? He couldn't bear to hurt her with the truth now. And he felt too much for her at this point to lose her.

Aelis nodded and then stretched, her arms bending and then extending, her waist twisting as her back arched. She turned, gathering her knees up under her as she faced him so that she was just above eye level, and ran her fingers into his beard in the way she did sometimes when she wanted to make him smile, tweaking it with affection as she leaned her forehead against his.

"Whatever happens, it won't change this," she told him, softly, and then kissed his forehead, nose, and finally lips. Her breath was soft on his cheek and Blackwall closed his eyes, giving in to the strength of the feelings she evoked from him and also to the shame. She hovered there, her palms against his cheeks, offering him comfort that he didn't deserve. "I don't care how long we have, as long as I can spend it all with you."

He kissed her back, his heart swelling with love and pain at the same time, and pulled her into his lap as he did, wrapping his arms around her. She gripped him in return with vigor. Never all that demonstrative with anyone else, Aelis seemed to make up for that when they were together in private. The way she melted into his arms, the way she seemed to abandon all other thoughts when they were with each other like this, never failed to melt him, too. There was nothing about her that didn't intoxicate him, from the taste of the sweet wine on her lips to the way her body curved and fit against his own so perfectly to the way his skin thrilled and heated and cooled under her hands like a bar of iron being worked in a forge.

The animal mechanics of it were easy enough. He'd had enough women to know how these things went, but it was different with Aelis. She was in some strange way more than those previous encounters had been. She teased him and excited him to lust, sometimes beyond what he was sure he could endure, but there was something pure about his want for her even so, something that dwarfed Thom Rainier's conquests and made them seem faded and tawdry now in a different and more intense light.

His body ached and groaned with that want even now. The embrace had taken on a deeper fervor. With his lips pressed against her neck, he could feel Aelis' pulse quicken and the way her fingers dug into his own shoulders and back through his tunic as her breath came quick and gasping against his hair. It would be so easy to simply stand now and carry her to the big bed, riding that feeling into sweet ecstasy as he took her there in the flickering shadows of the firelight. She would let him; he could feel the want radiating through her skin. After so long in the desert, with the pleasant buzz of the wine in their veins and the heady relief of being alive and home again, it would be such a perfect and needed release. He raked his fingers into her hair, kissing the underside of her jaw fiercely as he pressed his straining erection up against the noticeable heat between her legs, nearly resolved to do it.

Never had there been a better opportunity, the part of his mind that was still inhabited by Thom Rainier urged him. And that was exactly why, he realized, drawing back suddenly and sucking in a deep breath of air, that he could not do it. Not like this.

"You always pull back," Aelis murmurred when she had caught her breath. There was a tremble in her voice but she didn't sound angry. Her hands were splayed across his chest like a breastplate, and he could feel each of her fingertips pressing down through his tunic. The touch did nothing to soothe the raging cauldron of desire in Blackwall's belly and the faintly painful pressure that was building below it. He kept his eyes closed, concentrating on his breathing for a moment, before answering.

"It's not the right time," he told her, and then added, thinking quickly, "There's your virtue to think of, for one thing."

She snorted a laugh, and he could hear the incredulity in it without looking at her face. He leaned his head back back on the settee, turning his face up to the rafters to breathe more deeply and gather his composure.

"Alright, then, maybe there's my virtue to think of."

She giggled faintly at the joke, thank the Maker, and then gently tugged at the end of his beard, drawing Blackwall's chin back down and making him look at her. She was still warm on his lap, her eyes bright with desire, but also with love and some concern. She tilted her head to one side, raising an eyebrow.

"Mother Giselle's not going to jump out of the woodwork and lecture us about propriety, you know. And it's not like how we feel about each other is a mystery at this point." She wriggled very slightly, making a point about his obvious physical response to her sitting astride him and sending a fresh wave of heat up through Blackwall's body. He writhed a little, a grumbling growl of both pleasure and frustration escaping his throat. "It is alright to want this. If that's what you want."

"I just want to do right by you," he told her, realizing as he said it that it was absolutely true. He stroked his fingers through her hair, taking in the way it fell around her shoulders when it hung loose and how his heart stirred and yearned when he looked at her and saw her look back the same way. It was the cleanest pain he had ever known. "I haven't always lived the way I should or been the man I should have been. You deserve the best and nothing less than that. There's nothing in this world that I want more than you, but I won't give you something to regret."

She smiled slightly at that, and then sighed. "You are far too hard on yourself, my broody-bearded Warden."

Her use of the false title stung him, but he could not show it. Not nearly hard enough by a long shot, he thought. If you only knew. He let his hands run down her back rest on her hips and tried to smile back.

"When I'm half as good as I need to be, we'll talk," he told her, and she chuckled, slipping off of his lap and going to refill their goblets. His body felt cold from her absence already, despite the heat of the hearth.

"When the right moment comes, then." She held his cup out to him before sipping her own, glancing at him over the rim. "But don't think I'm not going to devil you unmercifully in the meantime until you change your mind. I may not have many feminine wiles, but I've got one or two stored away and they're pointed right at you."

"I am, as always, at your mercy, my lady," he acquiesced and, Maker, that was the honest truth. She resumed her seat next to him on the settee, curling back against him comfortably.

"Josephine tells me we've a grand ball to attend. I don't suppose I could convince you to be my escort?"

"Well, that depends," Blackwall replied, trying to lighten the conversation again. The wine was stronger than he'd thought, and he enjoyed the haziness of it in the back of his head and the expanding glow of the flames in the fireplace. "What's in it for me?"

"Oh ho, now that's a different tune than a few minutes ago," Aelis chortled, picking up the joke. She grinned. "My undying affection isn't enough? What about the chance to see Iron Bull try to squeeze himself into an actual shirt then? I'll be beset by a horde of tedious masked prigs who have nothing better to do than scheme and out pompous each other between dances. Totally outnumbered and surrounded. Death by a thousand cutting remarks imminent. You wouldn't leave me to such a cruel fate, would you?"

"Well, if we're talking about a damsel in distress, I supposed I could do it for a kiss," Blackwall considered, stroking his chin thoughtfully, playing along.

"My hero!" she declared, feigning a swoon across his lap that set them both to laughing as the pleasant haziness of the wine took over.

The rest of the evening proceeded smoothly, all troubles temporarily forgotten in the face of each other's company and the silliness brought on by being slightly drunk. As the hour grew late, Blackwall took his leave, though reluctantly. Aelis would have had him stay the night, and Maker knew how that he would have preferred to bed down in the warm darkness of her chamber with his arms around her rather than in the hay of the stable loft, but the last thing they needed was to raise speculation and it was better if he wasn't found in her bed by some chambermaid when morning came. He kissed her once more, hugging her close and enjoying the last moment of bliss. She leaned her face against his chest briefly, and sighed.

"Promise me that one day, if we make it through, that I won't have to see you off like this again," she murmured, her voice low and drowsy. The tenderness of it, uncharacteristic for Aelis, tugged at his heart, even as the innocent futility of the request hurt him hard and deep. As likely as not, that day would never come, whether they survived or not. He just couldn't tell her why.

"I can't make you a promise I might not be able to keep," he told her, leaning his head back against hers and steeling himself for another lie. "Your duties will go on after Corypheus is dead. So will mine."

He heard her exhale a sharp, low laugh, though he couldn't see her face. "You're so damned inconveniently honorable sometimes. I envy that about you."

She withdrew a little from the embrace, her arms still around his shoulders, and smiled. "You know the right thing to do, and you do it. Even the things that hurt. If there is a Maker, sometimes I think you're the one He actually meant to send, not me. I didn't believe in heroes anymore until you came along. And you're the one who thinks you're not good enough for me."

The words caught him like a spearhead to the heart. She released him, with a final brush of her hands and last goodnight, and then he stood in the dim light of the tower outside of her chamber, staring at the closed oak door.

It was an impossible situation. The heaviness in his heart closed back around Blackwall as he descended the stairs. Hero. He couldn't tell her the truth. And he couldn't continue to lie to her, not when she took the lie so much to heart. Not when the man she was falling ever more in love with was someone else, someone Blackwall was only pretending to be. She wanted a man like Warden Blackwall had been - someone who had been decent and honest and honorable and not a murderous, lying bastard. She deserved a man like that, but he could only play at being that man. And the time was drawing ever closer to hand when he would either be exposed or the depth of the lie would grow to be such a burden that he would have to expose himself to put an end to the agony or leave. The thought of leaving her now felt like severing his own sword arm.

Maker, he thought as he exited the great hall into the cold night air, sorely grieved when he had been in paradise only an hour before, what am I going to do?