Blackwall was beyond conflicted.
In spite of the fact that it had been years since his self-imposed exile, and he was in possession of a more grizzled, less polished appearance, he was still in a constant state of worry that he would be recognized. As it was, his identity nearly was discovered by one of the guests. If it had not been for Dyana arriving at his side at just the right moment, Blackwall had no doubt the man would not have left--instead remaining and needling him until he had discovered just why Blackwall looked familiar to him.
Dyana...
His beautiful Dyana.
Though she had wrinkled her nose at the sight of her attire for the evening--having been looking forward to finally wearing a gown again--there was no denying that she still looked lovely. Graceful, poised, and ever the lady, Dyana had no difficulty at all fitting in at the elaborate ball. She was in her true element, and it showed both in her every move, and the ease with which she handled the pompous guests. She had been trained for such affairs from the moment she was old enough to speak, after all; and as much as Blackwall hated the aristocracy, he could not help but watch Dyana in admiration.
As much as the aristocracy made Blackwall's skin crawl, Dyana was cut from a different cloth. As home as his beloved was amidst all the finery, she was also perfectly at ease helping Horsemaster Dennett clean and care for the horses at Skyhold. Granted, that was the only time in which Dyana did not mind getting dirty, but it was enough for Blackwall because it further proved to him that the perfect lady he so adored was also at her core, human. Nobility and Inquisitor though Dyana was, she was still simply a person, and she never tried to hide it.
Maker...how ardently Blackwall loved and adored her. Dyana was everything Blackwall could ever want in a woman. She had beauty, brains, compassion, and humility.
Yet, for all of Dyana’s skills, Blackwall’s every instinct screamed at him to stay by her side as she moved throughout the areas of the palace--alone. All he wanted to do was protect her, and that driving need had only grown since assassins and Vanatori were discovered within the palace grounds. As capable as he knew his beloved was, Blackwall still hated the idea of Dyana being alone while she ferreted out vital information.
Unfortunately, it would arouse suspicion if the Inquisitor roamed the ball with a vaguely familiar bodyguard. Not to mention, it would limit the eyes and ears the Inquisition's advisors had positioned around the palace. No...Blackwall could not be at Dyana's side unless she summoned him. All Blackwall could do was wait until then and try to learn anything that could possibly be helpful to Dyana or the advisors.
Blackwall had to think positive. True, he had a tendency to be a pessimist--an unavoidable result of the choices he had made in his past--but for the sake of his own sanity, he had to believe that everything would go according to plan.
Blackwall had to believe that Dyana would be safe--that they would have the dance he had promised her.
Blackwall smiled softly at that thought. With all the intrigue and the danger that loomed over the entire evening, Dyana still wanted to take advantage of what the evening had to offer and simply be with him. She wanted to be seen on his arm. She wanted everyone in the palace to know that they were together. Dyana was simply so happy and proud to be his that she wanted the entire world to know it, and that fact managed to make Blackwall feel as though he were both twenty feet tall as well as two inches tall.
Would Dyana be so proud to be his if she knew the truth about Blackwall and his past?
Glancing to his right at the sound of footsteps, Blackwall felt warmth radiate from his heart at the sight of his beloved coming down the stairs. He felt a smile curl upon his lips at the sight of Dyana’s lovely face. "My Lady," he greeted.
"My Warden," Dyana greeted in return with a polite smile even as her eyes spoke volumes as to how much she loved him. She wanted nothing more than to slide her arms around her beloved and press against him while kissing him and tangling her fingers into Blackwall's dark hair, but she knew it was not the right time. There would be time for that after they saved Celene.Her hand however did find Blackwall's and give it a brief but nevertheless meaningful squeeze.
Blackwall gave Dyana's hand a small squeeze in return before his love pulled her hand away--wishing in that moment that neither of them were wearing gloves. "Everything alright?"
"Josephine has gotten us access to the royal wing," Dyana answered in a low voice. "We need to investigate a lead the Grand Duchess imparted on me. Cassandra and Dorian will meet us there. Cullen and Leliana think it might be a trap, so we should proceed with caution."
"Understood," Blackwall replied with a nod before he gently brushed the back of his hand over Dyana's freckled cheek. He simply could not help himself. "Lead on, My Lady. Lead on."
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