Chapter Text
Basya grunted as the Olesian seamster put pins into a leather mock she wore, the pattern he’d use to create her dress. Josephine watched on, almost in envy, as the Seamster measured and prodded.
“I thought everyone was going to be wearing the nice white formal wear with the gold sashes,” She said. Josephine nodded.
“Yes, but you are the Inquisitor. You must stand out, even amongst us. Incidentally, what is your favourite colour?”
“Pink,” Basya smiled. “Lighter pink, like the strawberry milk candies we got from Antiva,”
“That would look rather nice with the white and gold from us. As she says, my lord. A soft pink. This is for Empress Celene’s ball, so I expect the quality to reflect it.”
“Of course, lady Ambassador. Your Inquisitor will be the talk of the Winter Palace for weeks!” He said. Basya couldn’t help, but be a little giddy. Although she hated court intrigue, it sounded like the Game was little different from dwarven politics of fancy words to hide loose threats. She had one dress at home for certain occasions, but she’d always loved the excuse to get dolled up. The seamster disassembled the pieces and was off, on his way to begin his creation.
Josephine read a ridiculous list of things that needed to be done that day. More than usual, she noticed. But Basya wasn’t going to put up a fuss. She had accepted this position and she would do her best by it. She stared at the war table for a few minutes in silence.
“Leave the veterans.” Basya said quietly. “Going after the red isana will save far more lives. Send me a list of all the soldiers there so I can personally write their families.” The room was muted. Cullen looked at her across the table.
“You don’t have to...someone else can-”
“I will write to them,” Basya repeated.
“Thank you, Inquisitor.” Leliana’s face had a solemn expression. “That’s enough for now. You have been very productive today.”
Basya left her advisors and headed for the Tavern. The atmosphere was more dreary then normal, though she couldn’t tell if it was her own mood bleeding into the place. Sera was excited and she wasn’t entirely certain why. It dawned on her that the soldiers drinking in the corner were a little too quiet, but were all grinning into their ale. While focused on Krem biting down on his lip, a sticky gooey pie smacked Basya in the face and the Tavern roared with laughter.
Basya and Endrin often dragged each other into similar mischief. She told Sera of a time she’d tricked a coward noble, who left his whole expedition to die in the deep roads, into thinking that chewing on pebbles was a royal delicacy. He chipped several of his teeth while trying to speak to her father.
Basya was stunned for only a moment before she joined in the laughter as she whipped flaky crust and pastry cream from her eyes. The louder her giggles, the better Basya felt. As though the sound itself expelled the clouds over her day. So Basya laughed herself to tears. She took a bit from her face and smeared some pie guts on Sera causing everyone in the Tavern to lose it again as the elf screamed.
Basya and Sera had a drink, Basya’s non alcoholic of course, before she headed back to her room. She used a basin to wash her face and sticky hair properly. There was a knock on her door and it opened. Basya blotted her hair as Blackwall emerged.
“Shame, I was hoping I’d see you with decoration.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure someone is already painting a portrait of the Herald of Andraste post pied.”
“I’d certainly buy a copy.”
“They’d be sold out so fast. I’d have to try and collect some of the royalties.” Blackwall chucked and kissed her, lips still sweet from the sugar.
“Do you want to get out of here for a while? Just the two of us?” He asked.
“I don’t know, am I allowed?”
“I’ve gotten permission from Leliana.”
“Then absolutely,” Basya said. She packed a light bag as Blackwall said vaguely he had ‘made arrangements’. Then the two of them headed out of Skyhold’s high walls once the sun had set.
It was quite a hike, whatever destination Blackwall planned to take her. Basya didn’t mind. They talked and laughed all the way up the mountain. Her night vision, saving Blackwall’s footing several times.
Both of them rested, sharing a waterskin. It wasn’t much further, but Blackwall insisted it was a surprise so he went up first to make final preparations. Basya waited patiently, excitement at what was at the top. She could hear him moving things which made the anticipation even worse. Until finally, he walked back down the steep hill and reached his hand out to hers. She laced her fingers in his and the two climbed back up that last way and Basya’s jaw nearly fell on the mountain.
Dozens of candles illuminated a blanket that had been spread to sit on. A woven brown rectangular picnic basket sat on the edge still closed. Two wooden plates, utensils, and metal cups were neatly set. Bouquets of light pink roses bordered the blanket. The top of the hill overlooked the view of the beautiful mountains, still visible by the moonbeams. Glinting and shimmering stars stretched out for miles. Millions of tiny yellow lights floated around two bedrolls pressed together as one.
“By the Stone. All this...why…?”
“You’ve been working hard, my lady. You need a break.” Basya hugged his waist.
“It’s beautiful. Thank you, Blackwall.” He kissed her curls.
“Shall we? I think you’ll like the menu.” They both sat down on the blanket facing each other. Blackwall’s hair was in a bun. It had become common for Basya to put it up in the morning. The candlelight flickered on his olive skin. She watched him as he opened the basket and produced a loaf of brown bread wrapped in a towel. It was still warm and she watched it steam in the cool night. Blackwall cut the fresh bread and spread some soft cheese on two slices.
“This is so good.”
“I was going to bribe the chef, but when I said it was for you, he made it free of charge.”
“The only abuse of power I allow is for good food.” Basya said, taking a bite of the bread, the cheese melted like butter on the heat. The earthy grains had a sweetness to it, amplifying the flavour. “Are those fresh strawberries?!”
“Thought you’d like that. I cut them up and put a bit of sugarcane on them. They’re really delicious this way, but in case they’re too sweet for you, I brought regular fresh ones too.”
“You think of everything,”
“I aim to please.”
“And, please, you do.” She said kissing his cheek. Blackwall brought a strawberry to her mouth and she took a bite, grinning as she chewed. The sugared strawberries became Basya’s new favourite dessert in the world. Two simple ingredients and it was amazing.
“How are you, Bassi?” He asked. It was so rare he used her nickname. Never in public, still not so common when they were alone. Not that she minded. She knew formality was only a sign of endearment. It didn’t stop her from appreciating how it sounded in his low gravelly voice.
“Right now, I am so happy. How are you?”
“If you’re happy, then I am happy too.” He said.
“Smooth talker,”
“Is it working?”
“Definitely.” They both laughed. “What are the stars near the ground called? I’ve never seen so many of them in one place.”
“Fireflies. They’re one of the more beautiful of surface bugs.”
“They are. Hey look, our moon is out!” Basya pointed excitedly to the sky. The crescent shaped moon she’d seen with him for the first time in the Hinterland had been from then forth ‘their’ moon.
“Almost as pretty as you. That reminds me, I have something for you,”
“On top of all of this?”
“I wanted to give you something. You’ve been doing so much Inquisition stuff you’ve hardly taken any time for yourself.” Basya polished off her strawberry as Blackwall reached in the back of the basket to retrieve a small box. Basya accepted the gift and carefully pulled on the bow and opened the latch. Inside was a black rope necklace. It’s charm was a stunning wooden piece of a crescent moon, a star dangling from it’s top corner. She ran her thumb across the smooth finish. All the textures of the dark mahogany were still visible.
“This is amazing, Blackwall! Thank you,”
“May I?” She nodded and Blackwall gathered her hair to the side and used the clasp, his fingers brushing her skin. She kissed him, his mouth tasting of sweet and strawberries. When they parted she wrapped her arms around Blackwall’s neck.
“I just want this moment to last forever,” Basya whispered. He turned into her pressing his lips against her temple.
“Me too,” He said. They didn't part for a long while. She packed away any food, Blackwall tossing reminats away from their camp. Basya blew out all the candles, leaving them with the stars and moon for light. Blackwall laid down on the bedrolls and Basya joined him pulling up the covers, his arm wrapping around her waist, her head on his chest. Blackwall and Basya watched the stars until they fell asleep.
Basya awoke to the sun. She’d never get used to it. As soon as it cast a golden glow on the mountains, her body was up. It wasn’t accustomed to such bright light and nearly two years on the surface hadn’t changed it. She probably would never get used to it.
She had a nightmare once, but couldn’t remember it, so those she’d take it as a victory. It must have been Blackwall’s protective presence. She gingerly removed his arm from her waist and slipped out of the bedroll, pulling the blanket up over him. Basya reached into the basket and found what she’d been looking for. Beans and a grinder. She hiked a little ways to retrieve water from a stream, then headed back, collecting kindling on the way to start a fire.
Basya wasn’t sure, but she could swear Dorian and Blackwall were actually agitated and grouchier before they had this bean juice in the morning. Basya liked it well enough. She always appreciated a bitter flavour to balance her sweet tooth and the smell was indescribably good. But she never snapped at anyone if she didn’t have it.
She put the grounds in the hot water and let it sit for a minute, enjoying the soft chirping of birds as the wildlife too began to wake. Basya watched the sun caress Blackwall’s skin, enjoying his peaceful sleeping expression. She strained the water with a cheesecloth, avoiding any grounds in the beverage. Basya finished and sat down next to Blackwall planting a gentle kiss on his forehead. He stirred and opened his eyes. He instantly smiled at her and Basya’s heart fluttered. Basya handed him one of the steaming mugs.
“I made the, the hot bean water,” Even groggily, Blackwall chuckled.
“Coffee,”
“Yeah, that.”
“You’ve mastered making it, but you never mastered the word.” He said, taking a long sip.
“It doesn’t seem complicated, but I always forget it. We never had ‘coffee’ downstairs.” Basya said. She took a drink from her own, the bitter taste welcoming after a night of sweets.
“What did you drink?”
“Ale or water. Milk on really special occasions if imported before it spoiled. If our water supply was tainted by a darkspawn, which happened every so often, then just ale. And I’d be tispy for a month.” She sighed.
“That sounds like it’d be amusing.”
“My family certainly found it so.”
“Better you tispy than dehydrated.”
“Yes, that’s what my mother would say as she laughed at me,” Basya said. “Speaking of which you should write to them. If you want! No pressure or anything. I’ve told them a lot about you, but I don't know. I think they’d like it and it might be good for you too.”
“I could do that,” Blackwall nodded. Basya beamed. Her favourite people in the world should at least know each other. “Have you considered...uh. Going back. To Orzammar? After Corypheus is defeated, of course.”
“Considered? Yes, every day. But truly, I know that can’t happen. Josephine and my father have been in contact. He likes her, terrified of Leliana.”
“Smart man,”
“I’m going to be needed long after Corypheus is dead. Even though Orzammar will always be my home and the surface has about five hundred new things to freak me out with every week, I’m staying.” Basya said looking out at the horizon. Blackwall relaxed, clearly relieved. “Afraid I’m going to ditch you?”
“To go home is a good reason to separate. I would never have stopped you. Besides I’m sure there are plenty of dwarven men who have caught your fancy.”
“Not really. The few that did - as soon as I told them I couldn’t be intimate right away, they were gone.”
“Morons. They’re the ones at a loss.”
“I don’t blame them. The pressure of my grandfather’s reign still weighs on dwarves. Where procreation had to be rushed because his so called traditions were killing us. Even though my father’s rule has prevented our extinction and even caused us to prosper, many are still raised with such beliefs.” Basya shrugged. Blackwall took her hand in his. “So I guess this means you’re stuck with me.”
“That’s an honour,”
“If you wish to see a chore as an honour then that’s your prerogative,” The taste of coffee on Blackwall’s lips suited the smoky cinnamon scent he always wafted.
“Who’s being self deprecating now?”
“The difference is I make it funny.” Basya said. Blackwall picked up the dwarf and put her on his lap. She stared into his big brown eyes as they looked back. The sun was warm as it shined on her back. A normally uncomfortable feeling to Basya, but now a distant thought clouded by the affection in Blackwall’s eyes.
“Basya,” He said seriously. “You make me laugh no matter what mood I’m in. You always make me coffee in the morning even though you can’t even remember what it is. You just know I like it. When you sleep you curl up on a ball and it's adorable. The way your face lights up every time you see something wondrous that I’ve taken for granted. The way you spend hours putting flowers in my beard when you’re bored. I could list one of these things for each star in the sky. It truly is an honour to be with you.” Basya blushed at each sentence, her face now the same hue as her hair.
“Well you laugh at my jokes no matter how terrible they are. You always check in on me during long journeys. And you give me your cloak when it’s cold. There are many wondrous things on the surface, but many are fearful too and you explain them to me. Patiently and then help me through it. The way that seeing you, no matter the day, fills me with relief. It’s an honour to be with you too.” Blackwall kissed Basya passionately leaving them both breathless. “The Inquisition - I couldn’t do this without you,”
“You could.”
“Yes, I could. But I don’t want to.”
“You never have to.” They embraced. Their arms wrapped tightly around each other. This moment, she felt heard. She was protected, but free. Basya was safe in Blackwall’s arms and it was the best feeling in the world.