Every single time he tried to talk to Anon she got distracted or called away to Inquisitor business. Without fail he would always be interrupted. He had to get his true identity off his chest and by the Maker, tonight was going to be that night.

The tavern in Skyhold was, as the youngsters would say, “hopping”. The bards were loud and the patrons even louder. Of course thats where he’d find the Inquisitor Anon.

She was over shooting the breeze with the Iron Bull and his chargers, one of them making gestures that got them all rolling laughing and filling the air with mirth. His stomach was tied in knots thinking about how he’s about to share his secret.

But his true identity and telling her about it was weighing heavily upon him, keeping him up at night. She deserved to know. Had to.

Blackwall approached her gently, leaning into her ear that he wanted to talk to her. And just as she was about to get up, a joke was made and laughter erupted around him again.

Alright. Enough was enough.

Blackwall leads Anon out of the tavern and to the stable where he normally stays. When he finally has her alone, he looks her in the eye. “Anon. We need to talk.”