#pls feel free to vote on the horse names adhkf

[breninarthur]

Well obviously I'm going to have to ask for a Blackwall/El prompt. How about ❛ you’re welcome to stay, if you want. ❜ for these two loves 👀💗

thank you lucky!! this is the first thing i've ever written for dragon age: inquisition 🥰 @dadrunkwriting i haven't finished the game yet, but i love this guy~

rated t, 1084 words. early blackwall/lavellan.

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Inquisitor. That's who she was now. Not Ellana, not El, not da'len. But Inquisitor, Herald, Mistress, Lady... titles as foreign to her as the religion she was now a figurehead for.

The celebrations were neverending. Skyhold's crumbling halls were packed full of people from Haven; pilgrims; and refugees from elsewhere certain that Inquisitor Lavellan would protect them with divine blessing. A meagre feast had been prepared, the ale was flowing freely, and there'd been lots of speeches and idolising stares.

Creators, the way that everybody looked at her made El feel sick. They weren't really looking at her. They stared through her, they saw things that weren't there. She wondered if any of them even knew her first name.

As the night pressed on, she receded further and further into the shadows, bit by bit. Slipping out of a conversation here, declining a drink there. As a hunter, she knew how to go unnoticed, and though it was considerably harder now than it ever had been, she still managed.

By midnight, El had left with a good old Dalish goodbye.

It was so much quieter as soon as she stepped into the night. A crisp breeze blew by, and it smelled of rain. She looked up, and the dark sky promised it too. There were no stars to guide her way, no moon, but lit torches buoyed across the grounds to light her way well enough.

Whenever El felt stressed back with her clan, she tended to go to the halla. They were good listeners, and always a comforting presence. The Inquisition had no halla, but the stables were the next best thing. She descended the steps two, three at a time, striding her way over in her naturally quick pace. Her friends always laughed and asked what she was running from. She supposed this time she actually had an answer.

Most of the horses were asleep, but she smiled and waved at them anyway, peering over into their pens. There was, of course, one that was awake.

El leaned back against a stable beam, and smiled. "Hello."

The bog unicorn never slept. It stared at her in a way that unnerved everybody else. Maybe because it didn't have any eyes to do the staring with. Maybe because of the rusty sword through its head. Humans were so judgemental.

"People think they know all about you too, don't they?" she asked, cocking her head to look the creature over. "But you're a good girl."

"Thank you."

El jumped out of her skin at the deep voice that answered her, and she whirled around to see Blackwall leaning against the door jamb, smirking at her.

"Warden Blackwall!" she exclaimed, flushing pink.

"I apologise, my lady," he said, sounding as grave as ever.

"Why aren't you at the party?" she asked.

"Why aren't you?"

"Fair enough," she mumbled, dropping her gaze. She couldn't help but peek at him though. El didn't know much about the Warden, but he held her on as high a pedestal as the others did, except for Solas. Though Blackwall was a bit more... bold.

You're unlike any woman I've ever met. You have the world at your feet, myself included.

There was something about him that El felt drawn to. His voice was deep and warm, his face was weathered, his eyes haunted... he was older, probably by about fifteen years, maybe more. Miralras would tease her to no end, she was sure. Even so, El's heart fluttered in her chest every time Blackwall looked her way.

"My lady," he said lowly, a voice like rolling thunder. "Are you alright?"

She met his eyes properly. Fuck, he was so kind. So sweet and seemingly shy until he flirted with her in public and immediately looked as though he was surprised he'd let himself talk.

His pale eyes pierced hers, and she suddenly felt more vulnerable than she had standing at the top of that forsaken fortress, with everyone bowing down to her.

"I was trying to pick a name for the bog unicorn," El said loudly, snapping her focus back to the thin creature in front of her.

Blackwall didn't answer right away. He knew she was avoiding the question, but she stubbornly kept her eyes front and centre anyway.

"...What about Rusty?" he suggested eventually, and El sagged in relief.

"What, because of the sword sticking out of her face? Bit harsh," she laughed.

"Alright. Ginger."

"I was thinking that, actually," El smiled, approaching the bog unicorn slowly. "But in Elvish, Sinsir."

She held out her hand, and the horse gently pushed her nose into it.

"Or maybe Sansal," she said, stroking along her rough snout. "Banralon, or Banra for short. Thelga... Ghiladin..."

A pause.

"...They all mean ginger?" Blackwall asked.

El laughed. And not one of her pretty ones that usually came out when she fancied someone, but an ugly, snorting thing. She looked at him in embarrassment, but he wasn't laughing at her, or looking in shock. He smiled at her warmly, and looked so... soft.

"No," she chuckled one last time as her laughter trailed off, and she smiled at him, lowering her voice. "They mean shadow blessing. Shadow friend. Safe spirit. And the dead guide."

"Ah," he murmured, holding her gaze. "For the sword sticking out of her face."

El laughed again. "I suppose you're right."

Silence fell between them again, heavy and awkward with avoided conversation. The wind had turned colder, and El shivered in the ugly beige clothes she'd been given. Hideous and impractical. Just like the Chantry. She sighed.

"You don't have to go back, my lady," Blackwall muttered. He pushed off the door jamb.

"Don't I?" El asked, turning to face him properly, looking up at him. They were in that strange liminal space that felt so exciting and so anxiety-inducing at the same time. Not close enough to cause a scandal, but close enough to see the grey hairs in his beard. Quiet, with words on the tips of their tongues but it wasn't the time, wasn't the place, it wasn't appropriate. El was no fool, she knew when someone was attracted to her.

And Warden Blackwall was certainly attracted to her.

"There are plenty more mounts to name," he muttered.

Why did that make her blush? Oh, she could practically hear Miralras ripping into her.

"If you're lucky, I'll let you name one," she tried, grinning.

A smirk spread slowly across his face.

"Then I hope I'm lucky, my lady."