I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this take on the Blackwall romance! It's only beginning. In this episode, our dear Warden torments himself on the best course of action in regards to Ash's affections. Ultimately, of course, he'll fall inevitable victim to the Inquisitor's wiles. Sort of. Briefly. He's trying! Expect some angst and steaminess.

Ashiril didn't say a word to Blackwall as they rode across the bridge to Skyhold and to the stables. His stomach knotted in anticipation as they neared the barn. They dismounted in silence together, stalled their horses, and then he turned to the small elven woman. In all the ride home, he still hadn't decided what to say.

It didn't matter, he quickly realized. The Inquisitor's bright eyes crinkled in a sly smile at the Warden. She placed a slender finger to her dusky pink lips, her head moved in a slight nod, and she turned and walked away toward the main hall.

So. I am to come to her when I'm ready.

He lowered his head and sighed deeply. And when will that be? He needed a distraction. Blackwall moved to his workbench and stared down. Perhaps another small wood project, something quick to get his mind moving. He smoothed out a piece of paper and started scribbling plans for a small toy.

It was only minutes before his plan failed and his mind wandered back to Ash. He could still see so clearly how she had looked as she stood ankle-deep in that river. Her olive-skin was flushed with painful memories. Full dark eyebrows had drawn her clear, lovely face in worried lines. Her auburn hair had been pulled starkly back from her face, enhancing her strained expression.

She had always been lovely to him. He'd heard some of the more vulgar soldiers after a few beers considering her features. Some complained they were too angular and hard, such as the straight hook of her nose or the strong line of her jaw. Or that she held too many scars, that there was too much dirt beneath her fingernails, or some other nonsense. He'd noted their faces and politely disagreed in training the next day with his sword. Fools, all of them. Hers was a fierce beauty.

So, it was uniquely bittersweet when she crumbled in that river.

He couldn't not take her in his arms. He couldn't not console her after sharing such a story of her past. And of course, once he'd laid hands on this woman who set his blood boiling with a thought, who encouraged his every hesitation, who wanted him in ways that still astounded him, he couldn't not kiss her.

A slender dowel rod snapped in his hands and somersaulted across the barn. Blackwall glanced around. No one saw that. Not that they'd be able to deduce what he was thinking… Gods, how embarrassing that would be. Although sometimes he wondered if Cole could read his mind. Blackwall scowled. But then, he was a spirit. Maybe he could see the Warden's past…

Blackwall's face started to burn. His past.

Ashiril had told him of her past. She wanted to know his. His hands turned to fists so tight that his fingernails cut into the palm of his hands.

I'm out of time. I have to tell her. That this is all a lie. That I'm a lie.

Or… he could end it.

Push her away now and spare them both the grief of when it happened later, when the shearing of their interconnected lives would be even more painful. It was bound to happen. She deserved better than that.

Blackwall shut his eyes as the memory of her kiss came rushing back. Her lips had been warm, the skin of her face soft against his, her tongue inviting… He would have lost himself if not for the icy river.

How much more intoxicating would it be if he could have held her without the impediment of their unyielding armor? She was impressively agile and lithe. What might her body would feel like unhindered and intertwining with his?

The memory of the caves rose to the forefront. She had loomed over him, breathing fast, muscles trembling from the recent battle. She had looked wild with the blood and torchlight on her face. For all her bluster over the deepstalker, her eyes had still flashed hungrily over his face and down his body. He had felt how her thighs tightened on him. He knew he could go to her tonight, hold her close to him, and taste her again. She had all but asked him to do just that.

Ow. He was biting hard into his lip. This… is bad.

"You have to tell her," he growled as he shook his head tersely.

"Tell who what?"

Blackwall jerked straight upward and spun around. Sera was leaning against a wooden column a few feet away, arms crossed and curious eyes on the flustered Warden.

"How long have you been there?" he half chortled. His face started to burn with embarrassment.

"Long enough to know you're twisted up over something," the elven archer smirked knowingly. "Or someone."

Heat rose from the collar of his shirt.

"While I appreciate your concern, I'm not in the mood," he turned his back to her and stared into the nearby fire. Sera snorted a laugh.

"Never are when it matters," she walked over to where he could see her, spun on her heel and planted her fists on her hips. "And I only wanted to have a sit with you at the tavern. Apparently there's something on instead."

"No," he grimaced. A moment passed. He shrugged. "Not completely."

"Go on."

The Warden shook his head and sighed.

"I… The Inquisitor and I have… become closer."

"Old news, innit?" she smirked. Blackwall looked surprised. She rolled her eyes. "Everybody knows you and the Inquisitor have been at each other. Or she's been at you, and you're playing coy. Is that what this is about?"

"Is that what… Wait. Everyone knows? Who says there's anything to know?"

"Come on," she scoffed. "You two went off on your own today. Dorian spent the afternoon sassing about it. What happened? One of you talk about feelings and the other talked about duty? Seems right."

Blackwall frowned.

"I don't know whether to be surprised at your accuracy or annoyed by the assumptions," he snorted.

"Too right, then. Knew it," Sera shrugged. "So, right, you like her, she knows it. Now what?"

The Warden shook his head.

"Now… nothing. It can't work, Sera."

The elf blew an exasperated noise between pursed lips.

"You Wardens and your seriousness. Why can't it work? There's no reason."

"You don't know what you're talking about," his voice was sharp. He cleared his throat uncertainly. "Why are you even concerned about this?"

Both blond eyebrows furrowed together. She extended one hand to tick off her reasons.

"Alright, one," a finger shot up, "you're both friends. Didn't think you would be at first, but there it is. So. It matters. And two, I'm here for the Inquisition. If the two of you are moping about whatever, it matters," she scowled at him as if he were doing a disservice not already knowing the point. "Just come out with it."

He snorted and shook his head.

"Would you… What would you do if you knew something that would… help someone you cared about, but it would cost you something you cared about?"

"Why can't I have both?" Sera squinted her face in distaste. "Because you say so, for reasons?"

"No, because… Damnit, Sera," he sighed and rubbed his face. "Because some things are already done."

"Everything's already done. What you're saying is, you know something Ash should know, but you think it'll cost you… what? Her?"

"That's what I'm saying."

"Alright," Sera shook her head and pondered a moment. "You think it'll cost you her. But you don't know. So… tell her."

Blackwall's laugh was deep and sincere.

"Oh, Sera. It's not that simple."

"But you say she should know? Make it that simple. You like her, don't you?"

He couldn't deny it. He nodded reluctantly.

"Then tell her. Before some other sod moves in. And believe me, they want to."

He didn't like the sound of that.

"I can't just… Look, maybe it was easy once, but it's not now. I've made too many mistakes."

"Want to practice on me?" she cocked her head to one side. "Pretend I'm Inky? Tell me your deep dark things?"

"Tempting, but… no."

"Thought you'd be stubborn. Well, figure it out. And come meet me in the tavern when you're done," Sera stared at him a few seconds longer. She narrowed her eyes, shrugged, and headed out of the barn.

The Warden sighed, walked to the edge of the barn and looked up into the sky.

If I tell her, I lose everything. I'd have to leave the Inquisition and pay for my crime. The Inquisition will lose my aid, but she will know. She deserves that. The question, then, is… how much does the Inquisition need me?

Blackwall had been proud once, and stupid in more ways than one, but these days he erred on the side of humble. He imagined Ash would argue the Inquisition needed all of them, but he was willing to bet the massive force the elven warrior had amassed would not be compromised by his absence. She couldn't stop this.

There was still the matter of the Wardens. Blackwall owed them his life.

"That's it." The answer was suddenly clear. He needed to stay until this business with the Wardens was concluded. He could try to explain at least that much, that he needed to focus on their mission at least a little while longer.

Blackwall started walking back across the lower courtyard of Skyhold. He glanced around at the merchant tables, crafters, and soldiers at work. This place was exploding with life now.

He scanned for Ash as he walked. She could be anywhere at anytime in Skyhold.

The voices in the Great Hall seemed to drop lower when he entered. The tips of his ears burned hot. The Warden didn't miss this part of society, the rampant rumors that fed the curiosity of bored nobles.

"If you're looking for the Inquisitor, she's left for Redcliffe," a soft voice with an Antivan accent announced behind him. Blackwall turned to see the knowing smile of Josephine.

"Redcliffe?" he was surprised. "We just got back from the Storm Coast."

"I'm well aware," she nodded politely, "but she had some private affairs to handle. She should be back late tomorrow."

Blackwall exhaled. He felt… relieved? Disappointed. Both.

"I'm glad you let me know. I might've searched the whole grounds otherwise."

"Yes," she had the slyest smile he had ever seen on the ambassador, "I imagine you would have. I am glad to be of service."

She inclined her head in a nod and continued toward her office. He tried to ignore that even the lovely ambassador seemed to have opinions on what was going on between the Inquisitor and himself. He headed to the Undercroft.

Dagna was working on a helmet at her station. She looked up at his approach and her eyes brightened.

"I'm so glad you stopped in!" she set down her mallet and rushed to an armor stand. He tracked her movement until his gaze landed on the masterpiece resting on it. "What do you think?"

He approached it and ran his fingers down the sleek, steel blue pauldron, the soft, strong leather straps linking to the chestplate, across the seamless transitions from metal to hardened leather to metal again at key areas of motion, to give the wearer the most flexibility possible. The gauntlets and greaves were made of the same material, with beautiful patterns of Ashiril's clan etched into them.

"This is… perfect," he admitted. The dwarf beamed. He'd had his doubts about the dwarf when she arrived at Skyhold. Who had ever heard of a dwarf specializing in magic? But Dagna had more than proven herself. This was a magnificent work of armor, made from the hardy Stormheart ore Blackwall had found in the mines of Crestwood. It would offer protection that would rival the best suit of plate mail, and the light flexibility he knew Ash valued.

He couldn't wait to give it to her.

Blackwall made his thanks to Dagna, then wrapped the armor to transport in secret to Ash's quarters. If she wouldn't be back for a day or so, then there was no reason he couldn't make this an even more grandiose gesture.

The next day, Ash returned from Redcliffe with Dorian. The mage was more pensive than he had ever been since she met him. Almost as soon as they walked through the gates of Skyhold, he murmured a goodbye and headed to the upper levels to brood in his alcove.

Two for zero, Ash, she thought ruefully. She really wasn't having luck with communicating with the men in her life. It was no wonder. He probably didn't appreciate being ambushed with family he'd specifically told her he had bad blood with. She steeled herself and followed him to do cleanup.

She emerged at the top of the stairs and spied him standing next to the tall window at the end of his alcove, staring quietly out of it. She approached. A few moments passed before he spoke.

"He says we're alike. Too much pride," his voice was calculated, distant. "Once I would have been overjoyed to hear him say that. Now…"

"Dorian, I'm sorry I didn't tell you why we were in Redcliffe," Ash got straight to business. The guilt had been eating at her the entire ride back. The handsome mage chuckled ruefully and shook his head.

"I'd wondered why you, of all people, would keep such a thing from me. You know how I feel about my family," he spoke carefully. He still hadn't looked at her.

"I… do know. I think that's why I didn't tell you," she sighed. She paused, but he didn't respond. "I just… know what it's like to be angry. And to be hurt. And to want… something to be fixed, but to not know how to make the first step. Perhaps not even be capable of it. So, I just decided… I wouldn't let you have to make that choice. I wanted you to be as indignantly angry as you pleased, yet still have the chance to fix something."

The mage finally turned to Ash. His expression held a bittersweet sadness, and some measure of appreciation.

"You know, when you put it that way, that's a regression I can forgive. Despite the hell that could have turned out to be, I like your reasoning."

Ash exhaled in relief.

"I'm glad. It seemed a risk, not knowing what had really passed between you two," she stepped closer to look out the window with him. "So what… did happen, exactly?"

"I wouldn't get married, keep everything unsavory locked away. Selfish, I suppose, not to want to spend my entire life screaming on the inside."

She laughed despite herself.

"Sorry. You're so good at coloring even the unpleasant."

"A gift," he shrugged. He looked back out the window over Skyhold's battlements. "My father… I found out he was planning to use blood magic. He wanted to… change me. Make me acceptable."

She felt her stomach sink. Ash had held some notion that Dorian and his father had once held a close rapport. No… she knew it to be true. And yet, his father could have considered something so horrible? She wanted to hug Dorian.

"I found out. I left," he said with a firm, unpleasantly hollow tone.

"I hate to think that could have worked. That he would even really do that," Ash offered. Dorian shrugged.

"As do I. It could have destroyed me. And if it had worked… I'm not sure I'd even like that Dorian," he sighed. He turned back to Ash. She could see the redness of his eyes. "It crushed me to think he found that absurd risk preferable to scandal."

"Maker. I'm sorry I didn't just punch him in the face and leave."

Another day, Dorian might have laughed. Today, his moustache twitched in a weak smile and he shook his head.

"I'm glad for what you did do. It's not… what I expected. But it was something."

"That's what I was going for. Something," she smiled. He chuckled, then looked to the side, contemplating a question.

"Maker knows what you must think of me now, after that whole display."

Her eyebrows shot up.

"What are you on about? I think what I already thought, and then some," she scoffed. "When I met you, you were a lone Tevinter who had abandoned his home, everything he knew, to walk a path where he encountered mistrustful people unpleasant toward him on a regular basis. And now I learn what odds were stacked against you, yet you still stood up for your own path." Ash stepped close and squeezed his shoulder with affection. "And a part of me wishes all that damned flirting wasn't just you leading me on."

He guffawed so hard he coughed.

"Yes, ah… Well, I hope you can understand. When someone like you flirts with me, it's hard to resist," he began sheepishly. "Perhaps, in another life…"

"Don't worry about it, Dorian," she waved him off. His brow furrowed.

"Would you like me to stop?"

"Don't you dare."

He barked in laughter.

"Yes, well, at this point I'd be poking a bear, wouldn't I?"

"What? I just told you I'd…"

"I'm not talking about you," he said pointedly. Her cheeks colored. "And since we've spent quite enough time on me, care to tell me how you and your burly Warden have been getting on?"

"My burly… um, we're not really… anything," she shrugged. He narrowed his eyes in disbelief. "I thought maybe we were something. He took me to the Sword Coast to tell me why he's been hesitant, and then he just… couldn't. So, nothing to report."

"Other than his continued baffling lack of commitment. I'm fairly certain even Commander Cullen has picked up on his interest in you," Dorian sounded unimpressed. Ash tugged at her wrist, reminding the mage of an uncertain child.

"I know. I've talked to him. I feel like whatever this is, he thinks it could mean… I don't know. To him, whatever damned secret he has changes everything. I may never know. So, I'm backing off."

Dorian sighed and shook his head.

"I really should have a talk with that foolish man."

"I don't know that that would turn out in any of our favors," she laughed, "but I appreciate the sentiment. No. There are just more important things I should be focusing on, so I'll just try to do that."

"Well, I, for one, think you are a singular person who deserves much more than ambivalent suitors," he gave her a gentle smirk. "And if nothing else, you should know, you have my support and my aid for this journey. I am with you in this to the end." Ash felt a thrill of affection for the handsome mage.

"That's no small consolation."

Ash talked with Dorian awhile longer, about his hopes for the future with his father. About his hopes to perhaps return home one day. She dodged further probing about her own situation. She was tired of thinking about it. She'd been partly grateful to be able to focus on a friend after the botched excursion with Blackwall.

It wasn't a complete failure, she thought to herself as she climbed the stairs down to the main hall. She still remembered how effortlessly Blackwall had pulled her out of the river.

She shivered again at the memory. Their kiss had lastly barely a few seconds before they'd been rudely interrupted by the river. It was enough to confirm what she already suspected. Whatever held Blackwall back was something real and unyielding. Maybe it was best she didn't know.

She waved goodnight to the people still lingering in the great hall. Even Varric wasn't at his normal spot. It was later than she realized. She wondered briefly if Blackwall knew she was back.

Ash walked through the quiet, dark corridor to her private chambers. She still wasn't used to living indoors. It didn't matter that these quarters were excessive even by human standards.

She sighed as she unclasped her outer layer of light armor and let it fall noisily to the floor. She lifted one leg agilely into the air and pulled off her boot, tossed it over her shoulder, then reached for the other. She hopped on one foot as she pulled it off when a glint on her bed caught her eye.

"What?" she hopped to the side to face the bed.

A suit of armor was laid across it. Goose pimples rose across her neck. She whirled, eyes scanning the dimly lit room.

The lounging form of Blackwall came into view, just beyond the doorway leading to the balcony outside. He leaned against the railing. His eyes were trained on her. The dim evening light hid much of his features, but she could clearly see the outline of his broad shoulders, thick muscular limbs, and the smooth slick of his hair. A thrill shot through her.

"How did you get in here?" she laughed uncertainly. And how long has he been waiting for me?

"Wasn't difficult," he looked down at his hands, slowly stretching out his fingers. "Almost concerning, really."

"Oh, I'm sure Leliana has her ear to the ground nearby," she turned and motioned to the suit of armor. "And what do we have here?"

"I promised you new armor," he said slyly. She narrowed her eyes, swept her gaze over him, and back to the gift. She approached the bed and trailed her fingers along the steel-blue metal, the soft leather straps, and the intricate designs etched throughout. The metal looked familiar. She laughed.

"This is… that ore you were picking up around Crestville. I remember Dagna saying it was some of the strongest she'd seen," she raised an eyebrow at him. "Clever, you."

"And now I can rest easier when you charge ahead in battle," he started walking slowly toward her. She felt the hairs stand across her scalp. "And I… wanted to thank you for accompanying me to that ruin." As he stepped closer, firelight illuminated the conflicted expression on his handsome face. Her gaze was steadfast on his. Her heart pounded harder with each step he took. "I know it didn't go as you hoped. But I wanted to… I just had to see you."

He stopped in front of her, hesitating. Ash tilted her head back a fraction to stare boldly up at him. He was so close she felt the heat emanate from his body. His hands were extended very slightly, flexing as if he fought the urge to reach out to her. Consequences be damned, she thought, and took a single step that pressed her lightly against his broad chest. The small movement broke his resolve. He exhaled shakily and his strong hands gripped her upper arms.

She leaned forward to meet him as he bent to her. His mouth closed firm and warm on hers. His arms slipped tighter around her as he pulled her to him in a strong embrace. Ash closed her eyes and coiled her fingers into the fabric of his tunic.

Almost as soon as it began, she felt his hands flatten on her shoulders and gently push her back. He dropped his gaze and shook his head.

"No. This is wrong," his voice was strained. "I shouldn't even be here."

Ash fought the urge to immediately pull him back. She hadn't expected him to be so bold. Now she was certain he wanted this, but… she had to tread carefully.

"Why shouldn't you?" she asked gently. She trailed a hand up his arm and cupped it against his neck. He shifted his head toward it instinctively.

"I want to give in. Maker knows how much I wish I could," the conflict was etched into his worried brow. "I… I can't be what you deserve."

Her fingers tightened as she pulled herself closer to him.

"You're wrong," she whispered firmly. "You're a good man, Blackwall."

Ash was watching him closely, yet she still almost missed the cloud that passed over his face. For a brief moment, he looked as if she had stung him.

"Am I?" there was the faintest note of bitterness. She didn't understand. Did he not see all he had done for the villagers against the darkspawn, against bandits… all he continued to do? "There's nothing I can offer you, Ash. You'd have no life with me."

"I rather like having you in it now," she cut him off. He almost smiled. His entire body was taut as a bowstring.

"Ash, I… I need you to end this," he managed in a strangled voice. She held her breath. "Because I can't."

She almost laughed. A warm flood of amusement washed over her.

"Have you been paying any attention at all?" she teased. Ash moved both hands to his face and cupped it between them. She pressed her body purposefully against his. "I've no intention of ending this."

His torso rumbled in a sound of relieved defeat. He shook his head in half wonder as he bent toward her.

"We'll regret this, my lady," he barely had time to murmur before his lips met hers again. The kiss was different this time. It was slow, firm, full of longing, like the first breath of air after a deep dive. She encircled his neck with her arms and fell into the taste of him.

"We'll see," she murmured against him. His response was barely intelligible, a growl of pleasure as he kissed along her mouth and down her neck. She gasped when she felt his teeth bite lightly, just below her ear. The sound emboldened him and he lifted her up. She laughed as he carried her easily till they pressed against the banister that led to the main entrance.

Ash ran her fingers through his thick hair and pulled his head back. She bent to his neck and bit lightly in return. He grunted with approval. His hands felt down her back and to her hips. He squeezed hungrily and she responded, pressing suggestively against him. She bit her lip as she felt how much he desired her.

"You have no idea how confounding you are," he rumbled. Ash laughed lightly against his skin. Her fingers moved deftly down his chest and over the clasps of his tunic.

"Enlighten me."

Her hands moved under the opened flap of his tunic and across his abdomen. His skin was hot and hard, his muscles like stone.

Blackwall jolted like she had pinched him. His hands flew to her wrists and he pulled her hands back out.

"What is it?" she closed the distance between them without hesitation. She brought the hand holding hers to her mouth and kissed his wrist. Her tongue ran lightly over the sensitive skin and up over his thumb. His breath hissed through his teeth.

"I… ah…" he faltered. He watched as she took his finger into her mouth and tickled it with her tongue. She raised an eyebrow. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply to collect himself. "I find it… difficult to concentrate when you do that."

"Good," she ran her lips slowly down his finger. He growled and moved his other hand back down the curve of her waist. She slipped her other hand back into his tunic. The touch of her fingers on his bare skin jolted him again.

"Ash!" he gently pulled her hand back out. "I… I don't want us to move too quickly. I admit. I want this. But… can we at least… I want to focus on finding out what's happening with the Wardens. After that…"

She clenched the banister behind her for support and watched him step back from her. His face was flushed with desire. His hair and beard were disheveled and his tunic was partway open. Ash bit her lip. His eyes immediately dropped to her mouth and she watched his chest rise and fall in measured breaths.

"Are you sure?" her voice was husky. He didn't speak for a few seconds.

"No," he admitted. "And that's probably why I should leave."

She chuckled. Her heart still raced in her chest. Her entire body felt on fire.

"If you're going to leave, you had better do it now," Ash reached up and quickly undid her braid. She shook the hair out over her shoulders, reveling in Blackwall's inability to tear his eyes from her. She scratched her fingers across her chest, down her belly, to grasp the hem of her shirt. She pulled it over her head in one smooth motion. His jaw clenched tightly as his gaze moved down her slender, muscled torso, clad only in a leather brassiere.

"What are you doing?" he growled. She smirked mischievously and moved toward him. He stepped back in kind, toward the stairs.

"I'm going to try on my new armor," she purred. Blackwall started down the stairs backward, one hand against the wall to steady himself. He was halfway to the door, staring up at her, when she hooked her fingers on her leggings and tugged them down. The firelight shone soft on her bare skin as she straightened. Blackwall's heart hammered against his chest. Her limbs were sculpted in muscles. Light scars crisscrossed like art across her skin. He could see the crease where her legs met her body. His gaze hovered on the thin fabric covering her. She followed his eyes and smiled. She scratched her fingernails down her belly and hooked the fabric with her thumb.

"Ash…" his voice was strangled. She pulled it down a fraction.

"You're welcome to stay."

"I… soon. I just… had better go," he was starting to babble. Blackwall tore his eyes away and moved quickly to the door. He paused with his hand on the knob. He glanced back. "Goodnight, Ash. You are… more than I deserve."

"Goodnight, Blackwall. If you insist," she smiled down at him. "I'll see you soon enough."

He grunted one final time, as if bolstering himself to take action, then pulled the door open and quickly left. Ash stared at the closed door a few moments longer. She inhaled deeply and moved to collapse next to the armor on her bed. She had never felt so lighthearted and giddy. Whatever his reservations, whatever this was between them, Ash knew after tonight, there was no going back.