Disclaimer: The characters and plot belong to Bioware and EA. I borrowed a few snippets of original dialogue for the chapter.

Author's Note: Oh dear, I don't know how to write physical romance, but I don't know how to further some of their story without it, because it is a big deal for them both. I hope it isn't too cringe-worthy... Also, for me, this is the first time they get together. Right before he leaves. I try and figure out what is going through his head that he would make such a horrible decision, though your guess is as good as mine here. My number one goal was to make this believable for this romance and to understand his character better at this critical point where he earns about negative ten billion popularity points from fans.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

He sat alone at the bar nursing an ale. He really shouldn't have been in public at that moment, but the thought of losing his fear in alcohol seemed so tempting.

It was Mornay. Funny how after all the years that had passed that name still tore into him and made him bleed. Mornay had been a good man, a good soldier. He had left Mornay and many others to die in order to save his own neck. Luckily, the man was able to escape, at least for a while. Unfortunately, he just received word that his former subordinate had been captured even after ten years. There was no doubt what fate awaited the poor man. And what was he going to do about it?

The easy answer would be to do nothing. The deed, as evil as it had been, was done. Many of his other soldiers had already met the hangman's noose. Even if he turned himself in now, it wouldn't take that sin away. Instead, he could continue trying to make up for the crime with more good with her and the Inquisition.

But she was exactly the problem. She loved him, and he loved her, but the truth was that she didn't even know him. Sure, he could stay, but then he'd only continue to lie as he had been. No matter how many times he worked up the courage to tell her the truth, he always backed out at the last moment. Maybe Mornay was the one thing that would give him the strength he needed to confront the past he always ran from.

Then, he shook his head. No. If he stood up for Mornay, he'd be dead and publically exposed. She'd die of heartbreak. But that still didn't mean he could in good conscience stay at her side enjoying her love while his sins of the past continued to corrupt more lives. She would despise that. And he knew the real Blackwall would never have let that happen either.

Suddenly, someone sat down on the stool beside him, causing his heart to jump to his throat. Speak of the devil… "There you are, Blackwall. I've been looking everywhere for you!" she smiled, motioning to the bartender to pour her the same as he was having.

"Not many places to look, I suppose," he responded blandly. Her drink was served and the two sat in silence. Unconsciously, he heaved a huge sigh.

"Something's on your mind," she observed carefully, studying him.

He shook his head. "It's nothing…"

She arched an eyebrow. "I know you better than that, Blackwall. You know I'm here for you if there's a problem. Please." She folded her arms.

He sighed again. There was no getting away from this, so as was habit, he told something partially true. "I was thinking about when we went to that ruin and found that badge. Everything seemed clear then, like I could do anything with you at my side." He studied the bar. "That's a hard word, you know. Mean's a lot."

She felt flattered, yet at the same time the way he said it didn't make her feel horribly enthused. It was obvious this was no topic for the barroom. "You mean a lot. Let's get out of here," she suggested, rising from her stool and downing the last of the ale. Obediently he followed.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

The stables were deserted for the night. Only the dim light of flickering candles lit the darkness as they climbed the stairs to the loft, Malika first and Blackwall following. Once both were there and certain no one was around, the defenses they put on around others fell. She reached out for him, pulling him close to her with her arms around his waist. "Something is wrong. Tell me," she spoke quietly. He bent his head and began to kiss her. At first it was soft, unsure, but as she responded receptively, the intensity grew. Slowly, he pushed her backwards with the fire of his kisses, and all she could do was obey and moan with pleasure.

Something in her moan triggered a switch in his brain. This was wrong. It always had been. He was no good for her, they could never be together. At first he did his best to keep distance between them. It didn't last. Malika was stubborn and insisted that she knew what she wanted. Instead of turning him away as he had begged, she refused and pulled him closer. He had been weak, he had given in, and now he was going to hurt her because he had been selfish and cowardly and let the relationship he had so craved blossom. But Maker, how he wanted her more badly than he had ever wanted any woman... Thom Rainier had never truly loved anyone, only lusted. This was a first, and it was all the more terrifying because he knew it was impossible.

"You need to know that I'm not worthy of you," he said quietly, suddenly pulling away. He averted his eyes and continued his lie. He would be gone soon, there was no point in telling her the truth now only to cause her more pain than she would already feel when he left. Let her believe in something far kinder than the truth. "There's no future for us with me as a Warden." He held out his badge, offering it to her. He was trying to hand in his resignation, or so it seemed to her.

She roughly pushed the badge away. "There it is again, that line. You keep pushing me away even though I want you and I know very well you want me too. Why do you keep doing this? I know you have a heavy burden. I know you have committed yourself to the Wardens. And I know that someday you will hear the Calling for real and I won't be able to do anything to stop it. But if worrying about sparing me makes you try to distance yourself, you've got it all wrong, Blackwall! I don't want to be spared. You know I could just as easily die tomorrow. You know I have a commitment as the Inquisitor. We're not so unalike. But that just means we need to support each other through it." Her eyes held that stubborn look he was so accustomed to seeing. "Maybe it means we won't be able to settle down, get married, have a family. But I need you here with me with whatever time we have. I…" her voice cracked. "I need you to love me." Because no one ever has. Her face flushed with the admission. Never in her life had those words crossed her lips. But he did the most bizarre things to her…

Damn it, she always made this impossible. He couldn't reveal the real reason for not being able to be with her, and there was no counter to her declaration of support for his "Warden" vocation. His final resistance crumbled as he realized she was willing for anything, no matter how brief, as long as she had something. That much he could give her, and he would hold nothing of his feelings back with the one chance he had. She must know that she was loved. Besides, one moment of pure happiness before facing the gallows, was it a crime to want that if she was offering? Yes, his conscience snarled, but he did his best to tune that thought out. Not now, not in their shining moment together. Even as his logic began to fade into desire, he was conscious enough to only promise her that night. "Then let there be nothing else. No one else. Just you and me," he breathed in a husky voice, choked in desire. He pressed his forehead against hers, burning.

She gasped. She could feel the need radiate from him as he slowly pushed her backwards. Suddenly, her heels caught on the edge of his makeshift bed, bales of hay covered with skins. A rough place to lay his head for a rough man. It didn't matter. He could take her on the ground or against the wall for all she cared, just Maker, please let him take her! For the first time in all her thirty years, she actually wanted this. She fell backwards, body splayed out and he followed on top of her, covering her with his large frame and resting on his elbows, now pushing her into the hay with kisses more uninhibited than she had ever known from him. As much as she hated to appear needy, she found herself whimpering with desire, begging through his mouth against hers for more. Her arms wrapped around his head, weaving through his hair, and held him to her lips, tongue gaining entrance to his mouth. There, under his protective hulking form, this was perfect. This was safe. This was home.

His rough hands wandered over her body for the first time. Eagerly, and without breaking their passionate kissing, he unbuttoned her shirt, revealing her breast band. As his calloused fingers grazed over her toned stomach, he could feel her shiver with excitement. Finally, he broke the kiss to kneel, straddling her, and undo the buckles of his armor. His burning gaze never left her save for when the shirt was pulled over his head, and while he was busy she took advantage of the moment to work her way out of her binding. With that, they were bare-chested, both eyeing the other with carnal appreciation. She'd seen him shirtless a few times, mostly when he was getting wounds treated, but this, with him looking at her with unmasked desire, silver moonlight shining off the dark hair of his chest, this was altogether different and intoxicating.

He ran a loving hand through her short silver hair and began to trail kisses from her neck down to her generous breasts. Oh, she was beautiful. Before being the Herald of Andraste, he was sure no one told her that. She was a dwarf, after all. Short, stocky, her teeth had an unlady-like gap, a scar ran over her right eyebrow, and anyone could tell that her eyes had seen a lot of difficulty. But those things did not detract from her beauty; they made her real. Her emerald eyes, so filled with skepticism when they had first met, now adored him, her full lips turned in a dreamy smile instead of a frown. In surrender, she was a goddess. A goddess who had seen some of the worst the world had to offer, but still believed in him. Maker, he didn't deserve her, but damn him, he was going to take her anyhow if she was willing. With new resolve, he turned his attention to caressing her body and removing the rest of their clothes.

Soon she lost the ability to form coherent sentences as she was lost to her desire. All she could utter was "Blackwall…" Over and over. The way she said his name, it hit him to his core. It shouldn't have, it wasn't even his real name, but strangely that ceased to matter. There had never been a bigger turn on than this, the woman he loved more than any other calling for him, pleading him. Needing him. Any thoughts of guilt disappeared into his own need to be with her. And soon, he was whispering her title in response as their bodies joined.

"My Lady…" Those words as his breath hitched in his throat. He'd said them so many times, but somehow, despite the heat of their passion, he breathed her title like a prayer, like she was his Andraste. Like he worshiped her. She had never felt anything like this in her life. Those words were her undoing. Her undoing quickly became his own. When it was over, he collapsed beside her on the bed, chest heaving.

She was the first to recover. "Blackwall…" she whispered, trembling. Her hand caressed his face, stroking through his beard lovingly. "Thank you."

His brow furrowed. "What makes you say that?"

"I…I'll tell you later. Just, lie with me now. I want you near me. Please." She stretched her neck up to kiss him again, though this time it was sweet and tender, not passionate and fiery. It was unlike the Inquisitor to plead anyone for anything, and his heart melted. He reached out and hugged her close to him. She could feel the tickle of his chest hair on her cheek, hear his pulse slowly returning to normal. There was silence, save the occasional shuffling of the horses in the stable next door. Nothing needed to be said; it had all been felt. He wished they could lie like that forever in the afterglow of their lovemaking. It was even more bitter to know they could not.

Once her eyes closed and her breathing deepened with the coming of sleep, he carefully released his hold of her. It was the hardest thing he had ever done, even harder than turning her away that first time. It had gone too far, and all he could do was pray that he was going to hurt more than she would for this. Something in the way she asked him to lie with her made him doubt. Finding his resolve, he got up and dressed, trying not to make too much noise. It was time. He'd loved her, now he would leave her and hope she could forgive him for that; it was better than her knowing the truth. He looked back at her one last time, the woman he loved lying naked on his bed, looking more at peace than ever before. Suddenly, tears stung his eyes. Damn it. He was finally getting the hell he deserved for all of his countless sins. Was it worth the high of making love to her if it meant feeling this much hurt afterwards? He had believed so initially, but it seemed he was wrong.

Gently, he set the warden's badge he had shoved into his pocket on the bed next to her. Andraste, let her believe he was gone to fulfill some Warden task, something noble that caused him to leave her… He wanted to kiss her one last time, or at least pull a blanket over her, but it might wake her, then he would never be able to leave. Turning away quickly, he descended the stairs before putting on his boots. Then there was the note.

-There is little I can say to ease the pain. Just know that while it hurt to leave, it would've hurt more if I'd have stayed. I am deeply sorry.

It was a shitty note. It didn't even begin to cover the intensity of the despair he was feeling, but it was all he could say without giving away too much. He tried to console himself, telling himself that surely someone like the Herald of Andraste would find someone new, someone better, in no time. He had to believe that. Leaving the note attached to his unfinished griffon rocker, he disappeared into the night, her kisses still haunting him, her touch lingering on his back.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

When she began to regain consciousness, she was puzzled to feel something scratchy rubbing against her skin. Groaning, she opened her bleary eyes. It was still dark, though there was a faint glow on the horizon as dawn was coming. As her eyes adjusted, she realized she was not in her room, but in the loft of the stable. And everything came back to her. She had finally made love to Blackwall, and it was better than anything she had ever experienced, if for nothing else than the sheer amount of love he had poured into her. Not that he wasn't good at handling the other aspects... She smiled to remember, but then just as quickly frowned. Where was he?

She sat up, looking around the dimly lit loft. Her clothes were there in a pile on the ground, but his were nowhere to be seen. Where in the hell did he disappear to? Did one of the horses have an emergency or something? Then she looked down and saw it: the warden badge. The badge he had tried to give her last night before conceding to her. Then she knew, and she wanted to cry or throw up or curl into a ball and disappear. He was gone.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Author's Note: I still can't come up with one good reason why he couldn't at least cover her up before he left... Not wanting to wake her up or feeling too emotional was the best I could come up with. Out of everything, that actually bothers me the most! Well, she'll let him hear about it later.