The good news is that every-other-week posting should be resuming for the near future as of now; the less than good news is that in the process of rebuilding all my buffers, chapters will be slightly shorter for the next little while. I hope you enjoy them anyway! Thank you for reading!
Bridget stood up from behind a half-packed trunk, rubbing a hand over her face. "I don't know why I ever started this on my own. I don't know what to bring. I should have just waited for Josephine like she told me to … but I didn't want to waste her time."
His own minimal packing long since finished, Blackwall looked up from the book he was reading. "It's her job." He was grateful for the decision that they would all wear Inquisition uniforms to the ball. In a uniform that looked just like the ones being worn by the rest of their party, everyone would see him as just another member of the Inquisition. It would be far less likely that anyone would connect him with Thom Rainier. Thom Rainier would never have worn a uniform when he could wear ostentatious finery, anyway. He stroked his beard, smiling a little. Thom Rainier would never have been caught with such a wild, unruly amount of facial hair, either.
Bridget's sigh brought his attention back to her. "I know it's her job. But she already does so much, I hate to add to her responsibilities."
Blackwall got to his feet and crossed to her, taking her into his arms. "There are other people around Skyhold who do more than they have time for, too, may I remind you." Before she could start naming them off he looked down into her face, sternly clarifying, "By which I mean you."
"Oh." She flushed, as she always did when praised for her work. "But that's different. Josephine has an important job here. Me, I'm only needed, strictly speaking, for closing the rifts. Otherwise, I just do what I can to help."
Several rounds of this line of conversation had taught him not to argue with her. Instead, he stroked her cheek. "In this case, you're helping by giving Josephine the peace of mind that comes with knowing you have everything you need to represent the Inquisition the way she, and the Orlesians, expect you to."
"It makes sense when you put it that way. Thank you." She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide and worried. "Blackwall?"
"Yes, my lady."
"I'm terrified."
"I know." He held her close, not wanting her to see his own particular fear in his eyes.
"Are you terrified?"
"Would it help if I said yes?"
"Yes." Then, after a pause. "No. Maybe?"
He smiled. "Then maybe I am—and maybe I'm not."
Bridget chuckled against his shoulder. "I'm glad you're coming with me. I'm not sure I could have done it without you."
His heart warmed at the words, even as they sent a chill of fear through him. What if he was caught? Did her need to have him with her for this ball, when she could get by just as well with the guidance of Josephine and Leliana, outweigh his value to her in the field? Was he jeopardizing their mission by taking the risk that the Inquisition be found harboring a wanted criminal? He should stay at Skyhold, safely outside the borders of Orlais. He had no right to take chances with his freedom.
He tilted her chin up with his fingers, looking her in the eye. "You could if you needed to."
Bridget's eyes widened. "But I don't have to. Right? Blackwall, please. I—I can't walk into that ballroom with the weight of everyone's expectations on me without—without knowing you're there. You're the only one who knows how scared I am, the only one who can know."
"Of course you don't have to. I'll go with you wherever you need me. Into the Void, if necessary." He smiled gently, hoping she couldn't tell that asking him to go to the Winter Palace carried infinitely more dangers to him than asking him to accompany her into the Void. For that matter, the Fade had been easier to handle.
Her face brightened in relief. "Thank you."
"Anything for you, my lady."
A knock came at the door at the bottom of the stairs, and with a quick kiss, Bridget disentangled herself from him, hurrying to open it.
Josephine came upstairs, looking cool and collected and perfectly turned out. Only because Bridget had come to know her so well could she see how harried her Ambassador was.
She stopped and looked down into the trunk. "Oh. You've begun already."
"Yes, I wanted to save you some time … but I stopped," she added hastily as Josephine blanched. "I was sure everything I was taking was all wrong, so I left off."
"I think we can manage fairly quickly together, Inquisitor," Josephine assured her. "But I thank you for thinking of me." She glanced at Blackwall. "You received your uniform?"
"Yes, thank you."
"How was the fit? I was concerned that the tailors—"
"It's very nice," he assured her.
"I was just talking him out of his last-minute jitters," Bridget said. She cast a sidelong glance at Blackwall, smiling, hoping he wouldn't tell Josephine that the true jitters had been hers.
"What is it with these men?" Josephine asked. She put her clipboard down and knelt in front of Bridget's trunk, lifting things out and laying them in careful piles around her. "I just had to convince Cullen that we actually need our general to be present at this event. Varric, on the other hand …" She chuckled. "He's primarily concerned that the uniform will cramp his style."
"I can't imagine him letting anything do that." Bridget sighed. "I suppose you and Leliana and Vivienne are all prepared."
Josephine got to her feet and came to Bridget, taking her hands and looking earnestly into her face. "My dear, you must remember that we have all been to these events many times. We are completely aware that this is your first time, and that the expectations on your shoulders will be … extraordinary. Please, you must consider us your allies and your support."
"I just don't want to let you down," Bridget admitted.
"Inquisitor, many people at the ball will be watching you and judging your every action—but none of them will be wearing an Inquisition uniform. Each of us who accompany you are there to smooth your way and help you do your job to the utmost of your ability. Will you trust that to be true?"
Bridget nodded, grateful for Josephine's assurance. "I'll try."
"Well, we can ask no more than that." Briskly, Josephine added, "Shall we begin?"
Under Josephine's expert eye, the packing went far more quickly than Bridget had imagined it might. She could tell that the Ambassador was holding herself back from the flood of final reminders of how to behave and whom to speak with and how to approach them, all the little details, that she wanted to issue. Bridget was sure there would be plenty of those on the journey to Halamshiral, but for these last moments here in Skyhold, she was glad to just be allowed to breathe and not be reminded of all the things she should be worried about.
There was one final dance lesson with Blackwall that night, a lesson that ended with him peeling off her clothes and caressing every inch of her body, slowly building her pleasure until she was desperate for the feel of him inside her. Afterward, as they lay entwined in her bed, he held her close, kissing her face tenderly. "My lady, I—"
"What is it?" she asked sleepily when he didn't continue.
"I … I wish I could lie here in this bed with you forever," he said at last.
"Mm. Me, too," Bridget agreed, thinking he was as reluctant as she was to take the journey ahead of them. She snuggled her head closer into his shoulder and fell asleep.
Morning came all too early, Bridget hastily downing a cup of tea in the main keep and then waiting for it to settle so she wouldn't have to ask everyone to stop just for the needs of her bladder. After some debate whether it would produce a better reaction if she arrived in a coach or on horseback, the decision had been made that they would all ride. Less impressive, perhaps, but as Leliana and Cullen had argued, the Inquisition didn't own an equipage grand enough to make the right impression, and arriving in Halamshiral on horseback would remind Orlais that Bridget continued to be active in the field on behalf of their countrymen and –women. The most vocally disappointed among them was Varric, who disliked riding because he ended up either on a pony that couldn't keep up with the larger horses, or on a horse so large in proportion to himself that he felt ridiculous. In the interests of time, he was going with the larger horse for this journey, and Bridget was prepared for the stream of complaints that would no doubt be forthcoming.
It was a relief to be underway, to be out on a horse in the fresh clear mountain air. If she didn't think about the ultimate destination, if she ignored the presence of her three advisors and the numerous outriders they had brought, she could imagine this was just another expedition to close some rifts and deal with some Red Templars.
They were a rather large party, she noted. A number of their people had gone ahead, but there were quite a few additional soldiers and scouts along to protect the Inquisition leadership on the road and to maintain what Josephine considered to be the minimum amount of staff required to represent the Inquisition's size and importance. She and Leliana had had a heated argument about it, but finally the Spymaster had thrown up her hands and stalked off, leaving Josephine the victor.
Bridget didn't mind the extra people. Talking to them helped her keep a finger on the pulse of the Inquisition and it kept her mind off of what lay ahead of her, the dancing and the politics and the people and, oh, yes, the assassin out to kill the Empress of Orlais.
Blackwall rode next to her, largely silent unless asked a direct question. While he was often quiet while traveling, watching the sides of the road for signs of a potential ambush, this felt different.
She nudged her horse up next to his, looking at his face. His blue eyes were far away, looking away over the mountains and beyond. "Are you all right?"
He drew himself back with an effort. "Fine, yes. Thank you for asking. Just … tired." He smiled at her, his eyes warming with the memory of what had kept them both up so late.
Bridget chuckled. "You're not the only one."
"Oh, I know." But he couldn't hold her gaze, his eyes seeking the horizon again.
She felt a chill work its way through her. "Blackwall?"
"Yes?" he said absently, his thoughts elsewhere.
"Do you miss it?"
"Do I miss what?"
"Being … out there. Alone in the wilderness, free to … go where you like and do as you pleased." She stumbled over the words, afraid she had hit on what it was that he wouldn't say to her. It wasn't the first time she had noticed a hesitation in him, a distraction.
He looked at her sharply. "Do I—?" He caught himself, thinking about it. Then he nodded, slowly, as though it was a new idea to him. "Yes, I suppose I do."
"Oh." She swallowed. "Do you—would you want to go, then?"
"Not … at present." He reached for her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "I have no intention of leaving you, my lady, not if I can help it."
Bridget wondered what could happen to make him not be able to help it, but the warmth of his hand on hers, the warmth of his eyes as they looked into hers, were so sure and so real that she couldn't disbelieve him. "Good. Because I have no intention of letting you go."
"I'm glad to hear it."