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Blackwall had never counted himself a nervous man, but something that morning was turning his stomach. Despite the light filtering cheerfully through the rafters of the stables, and the hum of activity in Skyhold’s court yard, he was positive he was being watched. Shifting the small carving tool cradled in his hand he surveyed the room, mouth tense, muscles straining. Shaking his head he turned to face his carving bench. “Soon I’m going to be jumping at shadows.”
“Do you often talk to yourself Warden Blackwall, or is this a new thing?”
Spinning in alarm, Blackwall nearly fell in surprise, eyes tracking to the man leaning casually on the doorframe of the stable, arms crossed. “Warden Alistair, to what do I owe this visit?” Maker save him, how did a man in that much armor move quietly? Sweat collected on his brow, clammy hands grasping onto the table to steady himself. Since they had collected the wayward warden, he had done his best to avoid the man, frequently skirting the area of the battlements he haunted, and even going so far as to grab his meal at a later hour. Was this to be the end of it then?
With a snort the younger man unfolded himself, stalking forward. “Do you know what happens to people who impersonate wardens?” Stepping closer he poked a finger into the soft tunic of Blackwalls shirt, amber eyes clouded with indignation. “I held my tongue in front of the Inquisitor in Crestwood, but now I want answers. Who are you, because you are certainly not Warden Blackwall.”
Inhaling raggedly Blackwall collected himself, he could still salvage this. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t play stupid with me.” Snapped Alistair, looming over the other man. “You didn’t have a clue what you were talking about back there! “Ignoring the Calling,” as if it was a bothersome pest, or maybe a persistent case of too much the flue! Not to mention, you don’t feel like a warden. All squeaky clean aren’t you?” Reaching down he seized Blackwalls tunic, tugging the man up until he dangled slightly from his hands. “I’m giving you a chance to explain yourself before I walk up to your Inquisitor and conscript your lying arse!”
Grasping the younger man’s arms in his he struggled against his grip, panic curling in his gut. If the Inquisitor found out… that he was lying, that he was nothing… “Why does it even matter to you?!” Blackwall demanded. “I’ve upheld the ideal of the wardens, made myself into something more, to be what people need!”
“Upheld the…” Sputtering Alistair glared at him. “The wardens are more than just a bunch of legends you can mimic when you feel like hiding!” Shaking the man slightly he leaned closer. “We are sacrifice. We do what must be done! Do you have any idea…” cutting himself off, he dropped Blackwall, hands curling into fists. “Explain!”
Sucking in a harsh breath Blackwall regarded the man towering over him. There was nothing for it really, all he could do was appeal to this man, and pray his secret remained as such by the end. Haltingly he explained, the mission with his men, the lies, the betrayal, and the one good man who had showed him that he could do more, be more. By the end of his speech, he felt drained, his chest lighter than it had been in years. Throughout Alistair stayed, quietly listening, nodding occasionally to show his attention.
With a sigh Alistair shifted his weight, unfolding his arms as Blackwall trailed off. “You’re not a bad man Tom.” At Blackwalls surprised look he lifted a hand, halting the words forming in his throat. “But, its time you stopped living a lie.” Straightening he turned, glancing out towards the sun. “Did you know I was there when the Archdemon was slayed?”
Blinking in surprise at the subject change Blackwall nodded. “Yes, I’m sure everyone has heard the stories of the Battle of Denerim.”
Chuckling softly Alistair sighed, reaching down to touch the center of his chest lightly. “Yes, everyone always talks about the dragon, how it was big, and the Hero brave.” Grimacing slightly he shifted. “What the stories don’t tell you is what it was like, to watch that light arch through the sky and know that she was dead. Feeling her life, snuff out like it was nothing.” Sucking in a harsh breath the younger man faced him, ambers eyes glossy in the filtered light of the sun. “That is what a warden is Tom. Duty, and sacrifice.” Striding forward, Alistair clapped him on the back lightly. “Tell your Inquisitor the truth, and end this farce. Lying isn’t going to help you.” Pulling him to his feet Alistair halted wiggling a finger in Blackwalls face, an amused smirk tugging the corner of his lip. “Plus, if you don’t I’ll have to come swooping in here and drag you off to make a real warden out of you, and no one would want that, would they? You might not live through it!”