Work Text:
“Oh bugger.” Blackwall looked out across the valley, river and snow-covered hills and bridge. Or rather, at the parts of the bridge. Three perfect arches should span this tributary of the Blancheau. Instead, one sprang from this bank and one from the opposite. The center pillar was broken, the arches on both sides of it crumbled into the river, now frozen over with a pale layer of ice topped with flurries of snow that danced across the surface.
“Shit,” Elleth Lavellan said, climbing up onto a nearby boulder to see over the leafless trees further down the slope. “That is not good.”
“The bridge was intact when I saw it in the Fade,” Solas said somewhat defensively, though nobody had attempted to blame him.
Cassandra shook her head ruefully. “It isn’t now. But that is not your fault. Orlais is supposed to keep it in repair, but with the war between Gaspard and Celene apparently this has slipped their minds.”
“It’s a remote area,” Blackwall said. “Nothing much up here. It’s probably not worth the trouble right now. Emprise du Lion is lonely enough as it is. This is the back of beyond.”
“I expect the road is never traveled in winter anyway,” Elleth said. She shaded her eyes with her hand to cut down the snow glare. “Why would anyone use it?”
Which of course was the original reason they were here. Skyhold had been a miracle, an amazing find for which they all owed Solas, but it was remote, deserted, and completely lacking in supplies other than the ones they’d managed to bring from Haven or scavenge here and there. The pilgrim road they had arrived on was now blocked at the other end by half a mountain of snow that would take until Ferventis to melt. They’d managed to get scouts out, just a few at a time, climbing precipitous goat tracks to get down into Ferelden and at least communicate to the world that the Inquisition lived. Blackwall had gotten down that way himself, with Elleth and Varric and Cassandra – at least to get to some Hinterlands farms and so that Elleth and Varric could hunt below the snow line. But there was absolutely no way anyone was getting a wagon up the trails they’d used, and it would be summer before anything was moving through the site of Haven.
It was Cullen who’d made the obvious connection. If Skyhold had last been used by Ferelden in the border war with Orlais sixty years ago, there had to be a way to get over the spine of the Frostbacks into Orlais. “After all,” Cullen had said, “What use is a fortress to guard the border if you can’t go that way anyhow?” Solas had confirmed that he’d seen a road with a bridge into Emprise du Lion, on the other side of the Frostbacks, and Elleth had immediately volunteered to scout with a party. Hence their current situation.
They’d left Skyhold early the previous morning, a bright day at the beginning of Nubulis when in the sheltered garden at Skyhold there were swelling buds on the old cherry trees. Of course it was colder still as they climbed higher, following the road they’d found heading west, until at last they were slogging through two feet of snow before beginning the descent on the other side of the Spine. They’d made camp the night before below the snow line, a hard day’s walk and probably less than ten miles as the crow flies, though more like fifteen as the party stomps. Blackwall carried their small tent, and some fallen fir branches produced a fitful fire. This morning they’d followed the road down perhaps three or four miles, though part of that was treacherously icy, only to finally find the river valley presented an impossible obstacle.
Elleth shook her head, squinting. “The span on this side starts well above the riverbank. It looks like it’s more like a gorge, actually. Though there seems to be a little gentler slope on the opposite side.” She glanced down at him from the rock. “What do you think?”
It was gratifying to be asked for his opinion on things military, something that happened more often of late since he’d mentioned that he’d been a soldier once. Blackwall shook his head. “It’s going to take military engineers. Real repair in stone’s going to have to be done from the other side. Might get a pontoon bridge up from this side after the ice has melted and the snowmelt flood has gone down. Cullen could probably get it done.”
“After the snowmelt,” Elleth said.
“Can’t do it when the river’s frozen or in flood,” Blackwall said.
Cassandra snorted. “Ferventis, then.”
“More or less. That’s my thought anyway.”
Cassandra shook her head but didn’t dispute it. She was a great warrior, but Seekers weren’t soldiers.
“I was certain it was intact,” Solas said. He sounded deeply annoyed.
“Not your fault,” Blackwall said. “It probably hasn’t been down that long.”
Elleth looked out from the rock. “That’s that,” she said. “We’ll tell Cullen what we saw, but clearly nobody is getting any wagons over that anytime soon. We’re going to have to use the trails in Ferelden for supplies. Or start shoveling out the road through Haven.”
She started to jump down, and Blackwall lifted his hand to help her down properly. She raised an eyebrow but took his hand and stepped down. Her gloves were too thin – Josephine’s gloves borrowed when she went in the field. Her own had been lost at Haven. When some of the sheepskins they’d taken hunting had cured a bit surely she’d get new gloves made. If anyone needed them, it was the Inquisitor.
“We might as well start back,” she said. “I don’t like the look of the weather.”
“Nor do I,” Solas said.
South and east the sky was darkening with clouds, a brisk, cold breeze blowing. “Looks like our Pluitanis thaw is ending,” Blackwall said.
“It’s Nubulis,” Cassandra said. “It’s supposed to be spring.”
“In Val Royaux maybe. Not this far south,” Blackwall said.
“And at this altitude.” Elleth sighed. “We’re way up in the Frostbacks. Much higher and further south than the Vimmarks in the Marches. I’m not used to it myself.”
Cassandra looked at him curiously. “Are you from Ferelden then?”
“The Marches originally. I’ve served in Ferelden a long time,” Blackwall answered evenly. It was much too risky to say he was from Nevarra. Too much chance that would lead Cassandra off into a long discussion of who was related to whom.
Elleth seemed disinclined to ask any questions. “Let’s get going,” she said. “If we can get back tonight, I’d like to. Should be easier going with our trail broken.”
“I agree,” Solas said. “There is snow on the wind.”
“Lovely,” Blackwall said. He got into position at the end of the single file, Elleth, then Solas, then Cassandra, and then him.
The wind was freshening as they reached the steep cut at the top, whistling through the cleft between two icy crags. A silver blur spread across the landscape in the distance, a front of whirling snow. It was beautiful. And cold.
“Snowing in Skyhold already,” Elleth called back. She must be shivering in her thin leathers in the cutting wind. She needed a better coat.
“It’s probably not ten miles,” Cassandra replied, and that was a heartening thought. Surely they could do ten miles, even with the snow. “And it’s downhill much of the way now.” Another heartening thought.
Blackwall just had time to think it before the ground went out from under him and he dropped feet first into a chasm. He scrambled at the wall, trying to get purchase, but it was a sheet of ice. And then he landed hard, white-bright pain flaring from his left leg, and he tumbled on the slick surface. He stopped just short of an edge.
“Blackwall!” Elleth’s voice came down the hole, sharp and upset.
“I’m here,” he managed. It was all he could do not to scream as he moved his ankle. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.”
“Are you alright?” Cassandra called down.
He wasn’t going to scream. His eyes were watering. He was just going to swear. “I’ve fucked up my ankle.” Fuck, fuck. Maker, fuck.
“Blackwall? Did you break it?” Elleth asked.
He rolled onto his side, closer to the wall rather than the edge. Looking up, he could see a hole in the ice that covered this crevasse just about the size of his falling body. Her head was framed in it. She must be lying on the snow to distribute her weight, looking down. “I expect so.”
It was about twenty feet, but the walls of the crevasse were sheets of ice, snow melted in the recent thaw trickling down and then refreezing in pretty blue-white stalactites. He was on a very small rock ledge, no more than eight feet by about three. Below, the crevasse continued on into the depths. Above, he could see that the ice had formed over a hole not much bigger than the ledge, a space between the two rock walls. And he could see exactly what had happened. They weren’t following precisely in their previous footsteps. Elleth had crossed the ice covered in snow and it had held under her light weight. Solas had followed her. Cassandra had made it. But he weighed twice what Elleth did, especially with partial plate and the pack that held the tent. He’d broken straight through. How in sweet Andraste’s name was he going to get back up?
Maker, I’m fucked, Blackwall thought. He couldn’t climb up that icy cliff on two good feet. And he’d bet that right now he couldn’t stand at all. He tried flexing his foot, and the wave of pain made the gorge rise in his throat. He closed his eyes and waited for it to subside.
There was some discussion going on up top. “Hang on,” Elleth called down. “We’re working on a plan.” Her head disappeared.
“Take your time,” he called. “I’m not going anywhere.” Possibly ever. If the snow came in, it would put the whole party at risk to stay here exposed on a mountainside, some of them in inadequate clothes.
Breathe. Just breathe. The important thing to do was to get out. Then he could worry about the ankle. Just breathe, stay still to conserve energy and heat, and breathe through the pain. He could do that.
There were sounds above and Blackwall looked up. Elleth’s legs and butt were appearing through the hole, her feet braced against the wall, a rope around her waist. She was holding the rope, letting herself down slowly, seeking footholds. Her shoulders appeared, then her head. She looked up. “A little more slack, Cassandra.”
The rope gave a little. She bounced down a couple of feet, then started steadily walking herself down. “How is that?” Cassandra’s voice asked.
“Good. Just keep it going.”
Cassandra was strong. She could let her down, especially with Solas’ help. And Elleth was the most sure-footed thing he’d ever seen.
She got her feet on the ledge, then called up. “I’m down. Can you give me a little more?”
“Yes,” Cassandra replied, still out of sight.
Elleth knelt down beside him, her face tinted bluish by the light. “How is your ankle?”
“Busted.” He grimaced.
“Can you move it at all?”
“Hurts like fuck when I do.” He took a deep breath. “You shouldn’t have come down here. Now you’re stuck too.”
“I can get back up,” she said. “And so can you. So first let’s get that heavy pack off you and send it up on the rope. Breastplate too. Let’s lighten you up as much as possible. Can you sit up a little more?”
The pain was bad, but not blinding. He just moved a little. And maybe the shock was kicking in. It should.
Her hands were deft on the straps of pack and breastplate, unfastening them and tying them on the end of the rope she’d come down on. “Ready to haul them up!” she called, and they gradually began to rise. He watched the Grey Warden breastplate turning in the air.
“Elleth, you shouldn’t have come down here.”
She put her hand to his face, thin glove against his cheek. “We’ll get you out in a minute.”
“I’m too heavy. Cassandra and Solas can’t….”
“I’m going to belay you,” Elleth said. “Cassandra will be the anchor at the top and I’ll belay you from the bottom. Don’t worry. We can do this.”
“You can’t lift me….”
“We can with the right rigging.” Elleth started twisting another rope, running it back through an iron ring she’d worn clipped to her belt. She gave him a smile. “It’s a Dalish thing. Or an elf thing.”
“Or maybe a cat burglar thing,” Blackwall managed.
“Maybe that too.” She smiled, her clever hands still creating complicated knots.
The pack and armor had disappeared above, and now the end of the rope dropped back down.
“I am tying it off now,” Cassandra called. “Solas is going to brace me.”
“Good.” Elleth took a deep breath. “Blackwall, I need you to sit up straighter if you can. I’m going to rig the rope around your waist and around each leg so you can pretty much sit in it. You won’t need to walk your way up. Just hold the rope close to your upper body and sit on the harness I’m making. As long as you don’t suddenly let go, it will be fine.”
He gritted his teeth as she moved his leg. Not that bad. Not that bad. She was quick. “Normally I’d like to have your hands between my legs, my lady.”
There was that wicked, sideways smile. “Don’t think there’s time for anything more with Cassandra waiting.” She finished the final knot and ran the rope through the loops she’d made, then stood up. “Let’s take this slow.”
“What do I need to do?” Bugger, this ledge was narrow. And this rope wasn’t much. And the idea that Cassandra was going to lift him….
“You don’t need to do anything. Just sit there. Now, hold the rope close against your body and cross your arms over it. There we go.” She positioned the rope to her satisfaction, not stepping backwards off the ledge though her heel was two inches from it. Elleth looked up. “We’re ready. Cassandra?”
“Ready,” Cassandra called back.
Elleth held the trailing rope carefully, her right hand with the rope at waist level, her left hand holding it against her left thigh. “Starting now.”
The rope twitched and Blackwall stifled a sound as he rose into the air, his leg banging against the wall as he rotated. The rope above moved smoothly, Elleth pulling down as he rose. Higher. Higher. He was even with her head, then above it, lifting toward the hole above. His legs dangled. He held the rope as he rose, watching the other rope playing out.
And then Solas was leaning down. He could see Solas reaching for the rope, heard Cassandra say something.
Then his head was through, blinking in bright daylight.
“Careful,” Solas said. “Let me guide you clear.”
Pain flared again as his ankle shifted, but Blackwall gritted his teeth. Cassandra had the rope braced around her waist, and then he was face down in the snow, dragging himself forward with his arms, Solas pulling him away from the edge. A few feet. Solas helped him turn over, leaning back against a boulder. His face was concerned. “Let me see your leg.”
“It’s busted.”
“I know.” Solas straightened out the ankle, his eyes losing focus as though he were looking somewhere beyond the physical. “This may hurt a bit.”
“Bugger,” Blackwall said. He looked past Solas to where Elleth was scrambling up through the hole, the rope playing around Cassandra’s waist until she reached down a hand. Elleth grasped it and Cassandra pulled her up the last couple of feet.
The world went red, his blood pounding in his ears. He felt the bones in his ankle shift, arteries and veins knitting back into place, and for a moment he couldn’t see or hear anything. And then he was out the other side, his heart pounding and the pain subsiding. “Maker,” he said.
Solas’ face showed strain. “That’s the best I can do,” he said. “It was a nasty break and the vein was torn. It’s going to be swollen and bruised. But as far as it goes, it will feel like you broke it three or four weeks ago, not today. It’s set correctly and should heal correctly.”
“Many thanks,” Blackwall said, and he shook Solas’ hand.
Solas looked startled. “You are welcome,” he said. He glanced over at Elleth, who was untying ropes. “It would be best if he stayed off it.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.” Elleth looked up at the lowering sky.
“There is no shelter here,” Cassandra said. “And precious little warmth. If we could get down into the shelter of trees….”
“Let’s try for Skyhold.” Elleth shook her head. “We’ve got a wounded man and another night in a tent in the cold isn’t going to do any of us any good.”
“It cannot be more than ten miles,” Cassandra said.
“Less than that, I would think,” Solas said. “Perhaps eight.” He stood up. “Warden Blackwall can put weight on it, but he must be careful.”
“We can manage.” Elleth knelt down beside him, putting her shoulder under his. “If we take turns helping him.”
“I’m fine,” Blackwall said.
“Not hardly. Let’s see if you can stand.”
He could, just. The ankle wouldn’t take his weight but with her to lean on beneath his left shoulder, he could hobble. She was small but surprisingly strong for her size, a wiry little woman in weathered leathers too thin for the temperature. She needed a quilted coat like his.
“You can lean on me,” she said. “Just use me like a crutch. When I get tired, I’ll swap with Cassandra.”
“It will be no trouble,” Cassandra said.
“And then I will take a turn,” Solas said.
Blackwall said nothing. He just gritted his teeth as they started down the hill, the first flakes of snow turning slowly in the air.
It was a long way back to Skyhold. Eight miles had never seemed so far in his life. The snow picked up, snowing steadily but not enough to obscure the road completely. Besides, most of the time there was one way to go – follow the valley. When Elleth started limping she traded off with Cassandra, which worked better. Cassandra was taller and she was built like a steel beam.
“You might be the strongest woman I’ve ever met,” he said as they huffed along through the broken and refrozen snow.
“I appreciate that greatly,” Cassandra said, genuine pleasure in her voice. “Think nothing of my assistance. You would do the same for me.”
“Of course,” he said, and then spared his voice.
Night came on. It was full dark before the valley turned, a sudden vista appearing, the towers of Skyhold lit up against the snow, battlements showing torches, windows in the towers bright.
“Thank the Maker,” Cassandra said.
Solas had been helping him, but it was back to Elleth now. “And about time,” she said. He could feel her shivering. Against him, his coat was some warmth for them both.
Solas had his fur hood up, his face in shadow. “Another mile, no more than that,” Solas said. “And we will be at the gates.”
There was a steep climb the last two hundred yards. Halfway up, his left knee buckled, and he knelt in the snow on all fours, feeling the weight of the cold against his back, his hands sunk wrist-deep in new-fallen snow.
And then there were shouts from the walls, voices above. Cassandra went ahead, her voice floating back, and then the voices of guards.
“Come on,” Elleth said, trying to get him up. “Just a little farther.”
Doggedly, he got to his feet. “I can make it,” he said. With her under his arm, he made the outer gates of Skyhold.
After that it was a bit of a blur. There were guards bundled against the snow, streaming torches, and Cullen in his bearskin coat who had apparently been called out when the party had been spotted.
“It was no use,” he heard Cassandra say to Cullen, “The bridge into Emprise du Lion is out. Warden Blackwall says it will take military engineers and they cannot begin until the spring floods are over.”
Cullen ran his hand through his hair. “That’s not good.”
“Here’s the stretcher, ser,” one of the guards said to Elleth.
“I do not need a stretcher,” Blackwall said.
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Stubborn man.” She made to get under his shoulder again.
“Let me,” Cullen said. “You’re tired.”
“Much obliged,” Blackwall said. Cullen was near his own height and weight. It was easy to lean on him and limp across the long bridge and through the upper courtyard. Snow ghosted down, swirling in patterns on the wind. Cassandra was telling Leliana what had happened while Solas seemed to have disappeared, presumably to get warm.
“Up the steps,” Cullen said steadily. “Mind the ice.”
“Ice is how I got in this mess in the first place,” Blackwall said. “Fell through into a crevasse.”
Elleth was shivering by the main doors. Dorian had come out, and he saw Dorian put his cloak around her, ushering her inside.
“Lucky you weren’t killed,” Cullen said.
“Damn lucky.”
A few more steps, through the outer doors and the inner doors, and then over to the right to a chair by the big fireplace. Elleth was steaming as she stood back to the flames talking to Varric. Cullen deposited Blackwall in the chair and he leaned his head back for a moment, closing his eyes.
“Let me see your foot,” Dorian said.
He opened his eyes again. “Solas already healed it.”
“That was before you walked eight miles on it.” Dorian propped the leg up, and he winced. “There, you see? Not ideal. Let me see what I can do. Boot off.”
“I think you’re going to have to cut the laces. It’s swollen.”
“Obviously.” Dorian produced a belt knife. “Now just lean back and let me work.”
Blackwall closed his eyes again. It was so warm here. Dorian’s hands were gentle. It really didn’t hurt, whatever he was doing. It just made it feel nicely warm….
“…I think he’s actually dozed off,” Dorian said.
“I expect he’ll want some barley soup,” Varric said. “I would.”
“I do,” Blackwall said, opening his eyes and raising his head. His foot was propped on another chair, his ankle and foot an impressive shade of purple, though it did feel much better. Water was dripping from his beard and hair where the snow had melted in the warmth.
“See?” Varric produced a bowl and spoon. “Barley with some onion and Maker knows what kind of random dried meat in small, stingy morsels.”
“Because supplies are short until we have a road,” Blackwall said. It smelled fantastic. The first bite was as good as it smelled. “Which isn’t going to be into Emprise du Lion anytime soon.”
“Well, shit,” Varric said. “I guess this dwarf is going to be hunting sheep with a crossbow again when the snow stops.”
“Unless you’d prefer me to hunt them with chain lightning,” Dorian said.
“Maybe not, Sparkles,” Varric replied.
Beyond Varric he could see Cassandra and Elleth at one of the trestle tables, bowls before them, talking to Cullen and Leliana. Solas had probably taken himself off to his own room for dry clothes, since his room was right off the hall. Not in the barn. Which was out in the snow.
“Of course,” Cullen said, getting up and going through one of the side doors.
Elleth’s hair hung lank and sodden with melted snow. She’d taken her jacket off and had Dorian’s cloak around her.
“Wine?” Dorian asked, producing a flask.
“I thought we were out,” Blackwall said.
“I have a small supply for medicinal purposes.” Dorian passed him the flask. “Drink up.”
“Gladly.”
The wine gave him a nice, warm glow. He finished the soup. “Thank you, Dorian.”
“Any time.” Dorian pocketed the flask. “Let’s get you upstairs and into some dry clothes and then you can rest. It goes without saying you should try to stay off that ankle tomorrow.”
“Upstairs?”
“Upstairs,” Elleth said, coming up behind him. “You are not sleeping in the barn in the snow. Dorian, will you give me a hand getting him up? No, don’t you even begin. Sleeping in the barn is ridiculous in this weather. I won’t hear it. Dorian?”
“Right here.” Dorian got under his arm and got him up. The ankle did feel much better. He snagged his boot in his free hand. It was actually possible to limp the length of the hall without much pain.
Elleth led the way talking to Cullen. “And so I think we’re going to have to see if we can improve the trails,” she said. “If we widen them and cut some timber, we may be able to turn one of them into a track that at least could take a mountain pony gig. Maybe the one that comes out near Wayfarer’s Point.”
“That could be,” Cullen said. “The road from there to Fort Connor is pretty decent, as I remember.”
“You’d know better than I,” Elleth said. “You’re Ferelden bred. I’ve only been that way once or twice.”
“The road was good when I last used it,” Cullen said. “Mind, that’s not been in the last couple of years.” He stopped as Elleth opened the door to her own rooms, standing aside to let Dorian help Blackwall through. Cullen blinked. “Um.” Obviously if there had been any rumors about My Lady Inquisitor’s occasional visits to the stable they hadn’t reached Cullen’s ears.
“Straight on up. Thank you for your help, Dorian,” Elleth said cheerfully. “I expect the road to Fort Connor from Wayfarer’s Point is at least repairable. I think that may be our best bet.”
“Um, certainly,” Cullen had turned red with embarrassment, though there was nothing to see besides Dorian helping a man with one boot upstairs. “Yes. Quite. I’ll send scouts to see what we need to cut in terms of timber. When it’s stopped snowing.”
“Of course,” Elleth said. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed. It’s been a long day.”
“Er, yes.” Cullen sounded as though he were collecting himself. “I expect so. We can talk in the morning. Nobody’s going anywhere in this weather. I’ve asked everyone in the courtyard tents to come into the lower hall by the old library. It’s not particularly comfortable or private, but it’s out of the weather. We’ve put some blankets on the floor for pallets.”
“And warmer near the kitchen,” Elleth said.
Blackwall and Dorian were on the second turn of the stairs, her voice coming up from the hall door. Blackwall winced.
“Did you hit your foot?” Dorian asked as they started up the next flight.
“No. Just hoping Cullen doesn’t think less of her on my account.”
“He’s not like that,” Dorian said. “Just embarrassed.” He shrugged. “Besides, what’s wrong with you? You’re a Grey Warden. And some do like hirsute and butch.”
Blackwall laughed. “The lady has no complaints.”
“See? And her opinion’s the only one that matters. I can’t imagine anyone telling her she oughtn’t do anything.” Dorian opened the door with one hand, then helped him up the next set of steps into Elleth’s room.
Someone had come up earlier and lit the fire, so the room wasn’t freezing. It was still chilly, what with the fire not going all day and the large glass doors that sucked the heat out, but it was much, much warmer than a snowbank. Blackwall eased down onto the battered leather couch near the top of the stairs. The couch had been here at least sixty years, abandoned with the fortress as too big to bother with, but it was incredibly comfortable.
“Good night,” Dorian said. “Unless you need anything else?”
“No. I’m fine.” Blackwall swallowed. “Thank you, Dorian.”
“Any time.” Dorian flipped him a salute and went back down the stairs, passing Elleth at the door at the bottom. He said something that made her laugh.
She closed the door then came up carrying something white. “It’s good to be home,” she said, sitting down beside him and taking off her high boots. They were soaked through. “I think we did the right thing to push on to Skyhold tonight.”
“Much better than huddling together in the tent.”
“We could still huddle if you’d like,” she said. “But without Solas and Cassandra.”
“That could be.”
“How’s your foot?” She went over to the dresser and stripped off her two shirts unselfconsciously, the long scars on her arms visible even from across the room. She pulled an old, dry shirt over her head, then unfastened her leather breeches.
“I’ll live.” Coat off. That was the next thing. And then jacket and then shirt.
“Here.” She tossed him the white thing she’d been carrying. “Something dry for you.” It was a long shirt, oatmeal colored, in a light homespun wool.
“Many thanks.” He put it on. Not too small at all. “Who does this belong to?”
“Cullen.” She was sitting on the side of the bed. “I think he’s more or less your size. You’re a bit taller, but it ought to do.”
He shouldn’t leave wet clothes in a pile on her floor. And yet….
“Need an arm?” Elleth came around the bed barefooted on the worn carpets and helped him across to the bed.
He sat down tentatively, pulling the covers back.
“The sheets are freezing,” she said. “But they’ll warm up. I wish I had a bed with curtains in a room this big. But it will be warmer with two.”
“I wouldn’t want my lady to freeze.” He lay down on his back and she came to rest against his side, her head on his left shoulder and her leg carefully not over his swollen ankle. It was very nice and very intentional. She’d blown the candles out and the firelight illuminated the room in a wash of soft light.
“I’ve never slept with you in a bed before,” she said.
“I was just thinking that.” He took her left hand, the one with the Mark on it, in his and held it against his chest, small strong archer’s fingers wrapped in his.
“Much more comfortable than the barn. At least when it’s snowing.” He felt the sweep of her eyelashes against his shoulder as she closed her eyes.
He waited three breaths, thinking. “You didn’t leave me.”
“Why in the world would I do that?” Her eyes opened, her face tilting up to his.
Blackwall shrugged. It was hard to put into words. “I suppose I’ve been on my own a long time.” He folded her fingers, then opened them again, the Mark against his chest through Cullen’s shirt. “Everyone…is nice.”
“Yes. We take care of each other. You’d have helped if it had been Cassandra who fell.”
“Yes, but….” He couldn’t quite find the words, not without saying far too much.
She extracted her hand from his, raised it to his face, stroking the side of his face. “You’ve been on your own too long. I know.” She shrugged. “Last year – I suppose it was a year and a half now, because it was summer, I was doing a job in the Marches. The kind of job where you move things over borders discreetly without anyone asking questions about them, so you don’t use the road. Anyway, it had been raining and I slipped and fell on a steep stream bank. Tried to catch myself. Dislocated my right shoulder.” She slid her hand down to his neck, a familiar caress. Her voice was light. “Had to walk myself out. Nobody knew where I was. Nobody was likely to find me. Just had to manage myself. So I appreciate having people who care.”
He nodded, not saying the things he was thinking. An injury like that in the wilderness could kill you, just like a broken ankle on a mountainside. Tough woman, just keeping going, nothing but bone and will to her. You keep going or you die.
“If I hadn’t been with all of you today…” Blackwall stopped, then went on. “An injury like that is a career-ender, unless you’ve got a mage healer. And they’re expensive and don’t grow on trees. It was a bad break. Even if I’d gotten down, I couldn’t have afforded a mage. And then….”
“It heals wrong, you can’t make a living with the sword,” she finished. “But you’re a Grey Warden. Don’t they take care of their own?”
And he’d made a mistake. He’d said too much truth. He sounded like a sell-sword or a man with a price on his head, a mercenary with no company. Now he had to backtrack. “Do you see any about? I’ve been recruiting on my own for better than a year.”
“I see,” she said, and he hoped she didn’t. Instead, she pulled him closer, snug against his side, his arm tight around her. “Well, you have us now. You have friends. You can count on us and we can count on you.”
“That you can.” And he meant that. He meant that he would watch her back or whatever else she needed, that he’d help where he could, Cullen or Dorian or Cassandra or Solas or Varric, however he could. And this lady, this weirdly intentional thing, going to her bed like someone expected…. There wasn’t anything to say that wasn’t too much, so he kissed her instead, feeling her melt into him the way she did, as though her whole body was wrapped up in the kiss.
When they came up for air, he brushed her damp hair back from her face just for an excuse to touch it. “Just takes some getting used to, is all. More used to the hard fall.”
She smiled against his palm. “Maybe we’ve reached the soft landing.”
“Maybe we have at that,” Blackwall said.