One gauntlet thrown down. Time for the next! But Ashiril isn't going to let this one go without a fight.

Also, foreshadowing of our lovely Champion and her sweet, murderously angry elf. There are some troubling characters in these series, y'all.

The days were not slow. Ash could not step foot in public for longer than a few moments before someone was bending her ear for a bit of news, a request, a task, something. She had gone out on a few missions, some of them with Blackwall, but she had yet to capture a moment alone with the stoic warrior. He seemed almost to keep this distance. It might have bothered her, were she not so busy.

She'd gone out of her way to acquaint herself with the crafting masters and their new appointments at Skyhold. She had recruited Master Dennet to care for the horses, on behalf of some subtle manipulation by Dorian.

Ash liked the Tevinter mage. He grew on her with each passing quip and biting observation. Bit of a flirt, but she didn't blame him. He was dashing.

And Cole… Ash was glad she'd allowed the strange spirit to stay, despite what Vivienne and Cassandra might fear. He was unusual, to be sure, but there was a unique sincerity about him that Ash valued. Not to mention how his conversations with her companions entertained her. Solas had seemed to appreciate her decision.

Solas. He had settled easily into their comfortable rapport again, after their unexpected encounter in the fade. Ash still hadn't decided if it was more a relief or an annoyance. Regardless, she was glad he did not shy from their conversations. She would have regretted so easy a loss of his friendship.

And Varric… was he leaving copies of his books all over the castle on purpose? Or was he really that famous? She made a mental note to flip through one of his stories when she had a spare moment.

Speaking of Varric, he had mentioned someone who could help them understand Corypheus. Ash should have spoken to him two days ago. She knew she was putting it off. She just wanted things to be more in order first, before taking the next big step. She was going to get this leader thing right.

But the Empress' ball was fast approaching. They were making progress, closing down a few more rifts and searching for a few more items on behalf of Vivienne, Solas, and Blackwall, but it was time to press forward.

"We should head to Skyhold soon," Ash announced to Sera, Blackwall, and Solas as they strode along the lush greenery of the Emerald Graves.

"Fairbanks'll be cross," Sera snickered. Ash shrugged.

"We'll be back. I just have some other things to- heads up!"

A rift announced its presence with an angry green boom and crackle. So many conversations rudely interrupted by something wanting to kill them.

Ash swung her massive axe from her back and arched it overhead in a heavy swing that crashed down on the demon advancing toward her. Blackwall was at her side in a flash, stamping his foot and erecting a wall barrier that filtered the enemies toward their waiting sword and axe. She cast him an approving smile before spinning into another blow. Blue light burst around them as Solas replenished their barriers. Arrows whistled by her head, feathering the formless faces of the rift monsters Ash could not yet reach.

"Nice one!" she heard the archer crow as Ash grabbed the opportunity Sera's distraction provided to severe the leg of one lanky green demon.

She growled in pain as one of the floating ranged bastards blasted her with goo. She ran forward, swinging her weapon in deadly arcs, swatting monsters around her. She heard them stagger behind her, stunned but not down, and smiled as blasts of cold erupted in her wake. Solas. Cleaning up her mess, no doubt.

"Ash, you're too far out!" she heard the mage snap angrily. She snickered to herself as her muscles burned with swing after swing. Adrenaline emboldened her. She felt talons sting into her side and she roared angrily, driving the butt of her axe behind her to make contact with whatever had assaulted her. She turned to finish the job, but it was already smoldering and peppered in arrows. A brief silence fell, apart from the crackling of the rift overhead.

Ash scanned the battlefield. Her blood thrummed steadily in her ears. She looked to her side and saw Blackwall watching her. His sword was lowered and his eyes shone with wary admiration and… Her stare snapped to the large, molten figure as it rose from the ground just beyond the distracted warrior.

"Blackwall, down!" Ash barked as she sprinted toward him. He reacted on instinct, ducking as she advanced. Her grip tightened on the hard leather hilt of her great axe. The demon was closing on Blackwall as she reached him. Ash was side by side with the human as she vaulted off her lead foot, using the momentum of her charge and the angle of his body to roll across his back, swinging the axe overhead with a roar. It crashed down on the demon, her driving it further as she sprang into a squat on the other side of Blackwall.

The elven warrior scanned once more, then whirled toward the breach in the sky and bore her hand to it. It cracked angrily, slowly and reluctantly acquiescing in a final brilliant flash as it closed forever.

Ash turned back to the group, breathing heavily. Sera was grinning widely and sniggering. Solas gripped his staff and watched her with his standard cool, unreadable stare. Blackwall was stunned.

"You're mad!" the human finally declared in a breathy chortle. She flashed a wide, toothy smile at the bemused warrior.

"And you're just jealous your clunky buckets don't allow you the grace my elegant armor affords me," she balanced the axe on its head long enough for an impromptu pirouette before snatching it up again.

"I can't understand why you would wear such flimsy armor and rush into the fray as you do," his tone had an edge of concern. She would have guessed it wasn't the first time he'd thought on it. She shrugged.

"I like the freedom of movement," Ash sheathed her axe and broke into a jog as if to accentuate her point.

"She's right about that," Sera agreed.

"I like the freedom of having all my limbs intact," Blackwall grumbled.

"He is not wrong to be concerned," Solas chimed in for perhaps the first time that day. Ash glanced back at his expressionless face. "You put yourself at risk." She blew an exasperated breath out her nose.

"What else do you know that barrier spell for?"

"To keep Sera and myself from imminent doom when melee is engaged!"

"Ach," she waved dismissively. The criticism of her fighting style was irking her.

"I'm just saying," Blackwall seemed to sense her irritation, "that even the best of us can get overwhelmed. No need to take unnecessary risks."

She chewed her lip a thoughtful moment.

"Tell you what," Ash turned to the human. Her eyes narrowed mischievously. "You beat me back to camp, and I'll let you choose a new set of armor for me."

"That's not-" he began, but the elf had broken into a light-footed run. Blackwall cursed and lurched after her, growling continued obscenities under his breath. Solas and Sera exchanged eyerolls.

"She can wear what she likes, far as I care," Sera shrugged.

"She surely will."

They made it back to Skyhold midday. Solas stalked off to his quarters almost immediately. Sera took Ash's arm and pulled her toward the tavern.

"Let's have a drink, yeah? I've seen you runnin' lately. Could use a sit."

Ash glanced over her shoulder. She caught Blackwall watching after them. He dropped his eyes to his hands when he noticed her, then back to the sky.

It had been a long few days.

"Alright," she acquiesced. Sera made a happy sound and hopped through the open tavern door. "Let's make Iron Bull buy."

Some time later they were gathered around a table with the Bull and Varric, who had just wrapped up a tale of traipsing through the Deep Roads under Kirkwall. The Champion and he had made a narrow escape after being locked underground, with a harrowing near-miss casualty of the Champion's mage sister. She'd only been saved through recruitment as a Grey Warden, and their relationship was forever marred. It ended on an uncharacteristically somber note, as Varric's stories went.

"Eh," Sera shuddered as if shaking off an unpleasant sensation. "Mages. Can't help but steppin' in it. Born with it on their foot."

"I'd bet my shit-foot against any mage, at this point," Ash countered. Sera snorted. Her eyes narrowed in sudden interest and she leaned forward against the table.

"Speaking of… you and Solas, yeah?"

Ash felt the color drain from her face. Her eyes darted to each companion, but Bull and Varric looked innocently expectant.

"What of it?"

Sera eyed Ash suspiciously, then leaned back against her chair.

"Look, you're the frigging Herald of Andraste. You've got weights on your shoulders," she shrugged and took a drink. "So, when you start eyeing one way more than the others, makes me wonder. Come on, then. He calls you Ash."

Had it been that obvious? Ash had been so focused on her duties lately. Just how close of attention were people paying to her?

"I… we might have had a disagreement. But it's been dealt with," Ash admitted. Varric's eyebrows shot up.

"With Chuckles? What happened?"

"Nothing!" Ash's voice pitched up half an octave. She scowled. Iron Bull belted out a laugh. "He frustrated me. I'm sure that's no stretch for you to imagine. And I forgave him. And here we are, addressing gossip."

"Too right, probably," Sera winked at Varric. "I mean, she's bad at it, but I've seen the Warden. There's something."

Ash hated how easy blushes showed on her olive skin. This tavern needed to be darker.

"Do what you like!" Sera raised her hands defensively. "I just wanted to know with which. I like you, and I don't really like Solas. Need to get my tabs straight, is all."

"Right. Thanks?"

"Your back and me," Sera crossed two fingers over each other and she winked.

Ash wasn't sure what just happened. She stared across the table at Bull and Varric's amused smirks.

"Nothing happened," she hissed.

Iron Bull's massive shoulders lifted in a shrug.

"That's too bad. We could all use some unwinding from time to time," he mused.

"Very true. I used to say the same thing to an old friend. Back in Kirkwall. Angry elf. You kind of remind me of him, Eggshells," Varric chuckled at some memory. "Now, there's a top that could not be unwound. He had the most eligible woman in Kirkwall at his feet, and instead of living in the moment, he pined for years. Fought next to her day in and night out, ignored that she hadn't taken on any of her many suitors, and brooded alone in his mansion."

"Hang on," Sera snorted. "His mansion?"

"His very own. Went from being a Tevinter slave to living in a mansion, having the respect of Kirkwall, more money than he needed, and the love of a woman he spurned for… well, I'm not sure. She never did explain that one to me."

"Piss. Sounds like an idiot."

"Worked out for him in the end, I suppose. They should be on their… shit. Fourth year together? Has it been that long?"

"Wait. The wanker still got her?" Sera blew a raspberry. "Not sure who's more of a tit in that story."

Varric laughed.

"You can ask her yourself about it, if you like. She'll be here soon enough."

"You're talking about the Champion?" Ash perked up from her drink. Varric shied at her words and glanced over his shoulder. No doubt making sure Cassandra wasn't in earshot.

"Shh, yeah. But… keep it down. I'd rather this be a secret for as long as possible," he said.

"Wise to bring it up over drinks, then," Iron Bull remarked.

"Look, I've been in this tavern awhile. Mistakes happen."

"Wait, tell me more about this broody-pants and his mansion and all his gold and lovers falling over him," Sera brought it back. "I mean, what a tit!"

Varric laughed again, long and loud this time, at some secret joke.

"Oooh, I wish Hawke had been here for that. Yeah, alright, Buttercup," he wiped at his eye. "But you may not hate him as much when I'm through."

Ash walked from the tavern a few hours later, a very slight stumble to her steps. She wasn't drunk, but she'd let Iron Bull convince her to more than was maybe wise. His enthusiasm for toasts was just so catching. The buzz was pleasant, especially as she gazed around the darkening camp and breathed in the crisp mountain air.

She felt a brief, unexpected pang of longing for the forest. No wonder. She had expected to be back home weeks ago. Who even knew if she might make it back at all.

Her eyes wandered to the stone stairs leading up to the ramparts. She wasn't ready for bed. Ash moved toward and up them, her mind wandering to home again.

The view at the ramparts was spectacular, as ever. She could make out the bright outline of the sun as it descended behind the distant clouds wrapping around mountain peaks.

She wondered what her brother, Theolan, had made of the news she had sent the clan. He had not sent letters in return. Her stomach tightened as a thought struck her, that maybe he never intended to send any letters. He had always been protective. It would not surprise her if he just showed up one day, allies in tow, without a second thought to anything but her safety. And then, of course, she'd never let him risk his own life for her. And the head-butting would begin. What a mess that would be.

Her ear twitched as footsteps approached from behind. They slowed, tentative.

"Approach," she said crisply. There was a hesitation, then the steps obeyed. She caught the scent of sawdust and pine. Her eyes widened.

"I don't mean to disturb you, my lady," Blackwall said apologetically as he approached.

"No apologies necessary," she smiled and turned to greet him, ignoring the sudden flutter of her stomach. "I was just admiring the view."

"Are you well?" he seemed to search for some opening to conversation. She almost laughed, but she feared it would drive him back into his shell.

"Well enough," she reached out and touched his arm in a brief, friendly gesture. "I'm glad you found me. I've been meaning to speak to you."

"Oh? Some matter on your mind?" he coughed.

"Always," she shrugged, then looked back out at the horizon. "And nothing of import. It is enough to share a quiet moment."

"A well-earned break, I'm sure," he leaned against a slab of stone and looked out over the mountains with her.

"For how long, who can say?" she said acerbically.

"Aye," he sighed. "But we stand at the ready this time." His eyes narrowed in a scowl. She could see the gears working, plotting future clashes with their enemy. "When and if Corypheus strikes again, we'll be ready. I've seen how much we've accomplished… how much you've accomplished in just a matter of days."

She turned her head slightly toward him.

"Thank you," Ash said. She was surprised how much his belief in her calmed her. Perhaps it was that he was a warrior with his own renown. She had heard many tales of his own bravery from the people in the Hinterlands as they searched for him. "I sometimes am… unconvinced I've done enough."

"You've only just started," Blackwall turned toward her. His broad shoulders handsomely filled out his modest bark-colored tunic. The padding belied the muscular form she was sure laid beneath. "And we're already more than we were."

Damn, if he wasn't endearing. His presence alone made her feel warm and light-headed. Or was that the ale? Get it together, Ash.

"Your confidence is inspiring," Ash gave him a crooked grin.

"In no small part thanks to you," he countered. The man simply could not take credit. "We stand with you, Inquisitor. Against this threat, or any other."

"You say that," the elf shook her head, sending her auburn braid tumbling against her back. "But we're not ready for Corypheus." Blackwall thumped a fist forcefully against his palm.

"Corypheus be damned. I'll take the twisted bastard down myself," he growled, "even if I have to die to do it."

Ash's eyes narrowed. She didn't doubt his proclamation for a moment. A fire sparked in her gut.

"Blackwall, I'm not losing anyone to that monster," she stepped closer and encircled his fist with her hand, pushing it down firmly. "Especially not you." Her fingers twitched atop his hand. Her stomach flipped when she felt his move against hers in response.

The big man seemed taken aback by the sudden steel in her voice and the warm hand on his. He cleared his throat.

"You can't… My lady, I'm a soldier," he affirmed, "no different than any soldier lost at Haven."

He opened his mouth to continue, but hesitated. His blue eyes searched her face, seeking some give in her stern expression.

"No different?" she scoffed softly. Blackwall's thick eyebrows shifted down, and for a moment, he looked lost for words. Then he shook his head and clenched his jaw.

"I am… fond of you," the admission fought its way out of his throat. Ash's blood pounded a little louder in her ears. "It's true." He stepped back and dropped her hand. "But we can't let this go any further."

Ash blinked slow and long, as if waking from a heavy nap.

Are… you… kidding me?

"This – whatever you want this to be – is impossible," Blackwall was saying.

Ash was a fool about some things. But she saw the longing in his eyes. She caught his fists clenching and pulsing nervously at his sides.

No, she thought. Not so easily this time.

"Impossible, is it? You've been paying attention, yes?" she took a step forward for the step he'd taken back. Her voice dipped lower. "Impossible is what I do."

"My lady, don't," he waved his hands between them, drawing an invisible line. "You're the Inquisitor. The Herald o-"

"I know what they call me," Ash interrupted quietly. Her golden eyes were narrowed like arrow slits, never leaving Blackwall's face. He struggled to hold her gaze.

"I know," he echoed. "And you know the people still arrive daily. Ready to fight for you. Ready to die."

Blackwall turned abruptly and put space between them. He needed space. He didn't trust himself if she were to reach out, and...

Ash held her ground. She watched him move in the dim light of evening. His body was coiled with tension.

"We must remain focused on the task at hand," he finally continued. The distance had emboldened his voice. When he turned back to her, his words were firmer.

Her expression was softer now, almost sad as she gazed at him. The firelight from below danced alongside the dying sunlight on her face.

"I care for you," she began in a steady voice, "just as much as I do them. Can't you just accept it?"

For a moment, his mind went blank.

Here was this strong, beautiful woman he had quickly grown to appreciate fighting with side by side. He already trusted her with his life. Why couldn't he accept that?

"Blackwall?" her voice called him back. His forehead knitted together with stoic resolve.

Of course. That was why.

"I wish it were simple. Believe me, I do," he said gruffly. "But it's not."

"It's the title, isn't it? I should've made my move back at Haven?" she said playfully. He chuckled ruefully.

"We both have a duty now. Our lives aren't ours to live," he nodded.

"Speak for yourself," she took a step toward him, then another. Blackwall looked up and stiffened. Her eyes were half-hooded with intent. Her pale rose lips slightly parted as she inhaled to speak again. The cold had pinkened her nose and cheeks, and loose strands of auburn hair floated alluringly across her face. His blood responded, igniting in his veins and mirroring the desire he saw in Ash.

He quickly backed up a few steps, shaking his head stubbornly.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be," he growled as he turned, in full retreat.

Ash slowed. She sighed. She watched him hasten down the steps and move quickly across the yard toward the barn. She pressed her hands to the hard stone as she leaned forward, keeping track of his form. He was almost to the rustic building in which he'd taken up residence.

She barked a quiet laugh to herself when Blackwall's head swiveled around once, searching and finding her staring down at him. Even from afar, she could see how quickly he looked away.

"Game on, Blackwall," she murmured to the silence of the darkening ramparts.