Blackwall walked determined through the throne room to the last door on the left. His hand paused at the door handle. His resolve faltered. Should he really be doing this, he thought to himself. He could only imagine what those damned Orlesians were going to talk about. He could feel their judgmental eyes on him now. It made his blood boil.
He noticed two serving girls walking towards him, prattling on about “all those stairs” they would have to climb. They were carrying buckets of what looked like hot water. Once they reached him he asked if he could help. They both looked at him suspiciously but before they could say no, he opened the door, took all four buckets from them and started heading up the stairs. He stopped on the third step and looked back. “I’m sure you have more important things to do. Now shut the door and run along” he said.
He carefully took the hot water upstairs. He saw the linen lined tub placed close to the already lit hearth. He looked around the room and noticed that the Inquisitor wasn’t there. He called for her nonetheless. No answer. He shrugged and started to fill the tub with the hot water. He left one bucket full and put another upside down on top of it to keep the water warm.
He discovered two vials on a small end table next to the tub and decided to see what was in them. One smelled like prophets laurel mixed with honey. The other vial reminded him of the first rain in spring. The subtle soft notes of sweet flowers mixed with wet earth. He placed several drops in the bath and swirled it around. It smelled divine. He chuckled at how foolish he was acting at the moment. Getting a bath ready for the inquisitor. How very domestic he had become since he had met her.
He draped a free linen over the bath to keep it warm and walked out to the west balcony. Surprisingly he could hear lively music coming from the Tavern. Lots of cheering and shouting. The place looked to be brimming. Iron bull must have started a game of sorts. Perhaps knife throwing? It was too noisy for wicked grace. He sighed deeply.
He looked up into the night sky. The stars were bright and twinkling. His mind started to shift focus back to the Inquisitor. How could this woman change his life so completely? He thought he was content training men to fight the dark spawn. It kept his mind from the past. The past that was as dark as the deep roads of Orzammar. It haunted his thoughts and dreams often before she came into his life. Yet, he found that being involved in the inquisition gave him a far better purpose than he could have hoped for.
Hell, who was he kidding, he wanted every chance he could get to be around the Inquisitor. He found himself thinking about her more and more these days. He did not know if it was the crisp mountain air of Skyhold or perhaps he was falling for her. He was asked more often on missions now and that caused his mind to wonder if she wanted him or his protection. He thought it wouldn’t matter either way. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to be with her. He wanted her.
Perhaps he could be redeemed after all? Could she forgive him and the decisions he made in the past? She had been lenient with the mages and Magister Alexius at Redcliff. She had every reason to want revenge and yet she chose mercy. She may be one of the toughest warriors he has fought along side, but she has a gentle and compassionate heart. A seed of hope bloomed in his chest.
A noise from within the room brought him back to the present. He sucked in a lungful of air and closed his eyes. This wasn’t a simple matter he wanted to discuss, but he needed her to know the truth. He wasn’t the man she believed him to be. He wanted with every fiber of his being to be him, he prayed for it. But he could lie to her no more. He needed to stop whatever feelings she may have for him, even if it killed him on the inside. She would hate him for it but he was never worthy of her in the first place. He turned and saw her...the beautiful warrior who stole his heart, the Inquisitor, The Herald of Andraste...his savior.