Chapter Text
“Something for you, ser,” the requisitions officer startled the Inquisitor.
She thought she had wandered far enough into the camp’s outskirts to avoid such intrusions, but apparently not. The Inquisitor rose from the rock she was sitting on and fixed the officer with an icy glare.
The poor fellow’s face drained, “…Another time, then…”, he mumbled, and hurried off sheepishly.
Letting out a sigh, the Inquisitor shook her head, immediately regretting the ire she had let show in her eyes. She made a mental note to apologize to the lad later.
“Well, he must be new,” a deep voice rumbled behind her.
The Inquisitor turned to find herself facing a wall of qunari muscle. How the Iron Bull managed to move so quietly given his size always baffled her. “Yeah, wonderful first impression I gave him, huh.”
Bull smirked, “You made it pretty clear you wanted to be alone, boss. He’ll learn.”
“Did I? Is that why you’re here?” she asked scathingly. Anyone else would have blanched and stuttered an apology, but Bull did not miss the morsel of humour in her tone, or that the left corner of her mouth had lifted ever so slightly.
“Look, I know things have been especially rough for you since that whole mess with… not-Blackwall. I thought getting out into the field again, busting some heads, might be good for you, but your brooding is reaching some epic levels.”
At the mention of Blackwall the Inquisitor’s eyes narrowed, “Everyone’s been on eggshells around me, I know. You’re here to tell me I need to let that shit go. For the good of my team, right?” She began pacing in agitation, “Maker, I wanted to hang him myself. I was going to leave him in Val Royeaux, you know? But Leliana, she knew I’d regret it.”
“Of course she did, boss, and for the record,” Bull added gently, “I’m not here to tell you to get over it. I wanted to tell you that... that I understand none of this is fair.”
She stopped pacing and looked up at him, confused, “What do you mean by that?”
“That you have to push aside your feelings right now to look after them,” he pointed back towards the camp. “I saw what just happened in Valammar with Varric and Bianca, and how it affected you. I know why we’re heading to Redcliffe now, and why Dorian is rivalling you for Skyhold Angst Award.”
“Hey,” in a flash the Inquisitor’s finger was in his face, her eyes icy. “Don’t joke about that. Dorian has every reason to be angry right now.” She had to lift her arm to a degree that would have been amusing coming from any other human, but from her somehow still managed to be threatening. The unnatural chill he felt emanating from her fingertip may have had something to do with it.
Bull smiled affectionately and gently pushed her arm down, “See? Mama bear, that’s what I’m talking about.”
The Inquisitor relaxed and sighed when she realized what Bull was getting at. “Alright, I see what you’re saying. I have every reason to be feeling the way I am right now too.” Turning from him, she started pacing again, “I thought I was getting over it, but seeing how hurt Varric was… All these elaborate secrets and lies…” She threw up her hands in exasperation, “I feel like we never left the Winter Palace!”
“The Game is everywhere, boss, not just in Orlais,” Bull stated matter-of-factly, “You know that. You’re at the centre of it.”
The Inquisitor grimaced and pinched the bridge of her nose. With a quiet sigh she sat back down on the rock. From here they could see Redcliffe in the distance, illuminated to the west by the setting sun.
The Iron Bull confidently sat down next to her. He had seen no signs of her closing off from him, despite her defeated posture.
After a moment, she spoke quietly, “The Game we play, we don’t have a choice in it, I know, and the scale on which we play… I hope I never become used to it. But, with him something felt different. My whole life I’ve been surrounded by games and secrets and fear, first in my family, and after that in the Circle. Then here was this confounding man, not a templar, not a mage, not a noble… Just this grey warden for whom life was simply about defending the innocent and being kind for no reason other than because it was right. I didn’t think people like that actually existed… I suppose I should have known better, right?”
She paused, expecting Bull to answer, but he said nothing.
“I know now he wanted to tell me," she continued, "I could see it on his face the last night we were together. But in the end he couldn’t. I think that’s why I let him stay. Running to the hangman instead of facing me was the easy choice for him, and Maker knows I don’t want him getting off easy. The worst thing about it all is that now I can’t help wondering, who’s next?”
Bull nodded, “Your trust in your people has been shaken. I get that.”
“I hate myself for thinking it, but what if Dorian has been undermining us to the Imperium this whole time? What if Varric has leaked something else vital to the wrong people? What if Sera has done the same to one of her Red Jennies? And of course, there’s you. Maybe you’re only pretending to be Tal-Vashoth while your loyalties are still with the Qun. Leliana says you should never really trust anyone. Perhaps she’s right.”
“I believe that’s what they call ‘catastrophizing’, boss. You’re a good leader because you inspire loyalty from your people. Even Blackwall thought he was doing the right thing by you, and the Inquisition. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you gave him a chance to redeem himself. As for me,” Bull adjusted himself to face her and spoke slowly, “I’m with you, Elphaba. You have my word on that.”
She flinched at the sound of her name. He knew she hated it, but he only used it when he wanted to emphasize his sincerity.
“You made a call for me once that was wrong of me to put on you. One I was too chicken-shit to make myself. And for that, you’ve got me. Always.”
She stared back at him with a gentle intensity, her face softened. The loose bun she normally tied her hair in was mussed up from the day’s battles, stray tendrils of jet black waves haphazard over her cheeks. The Inquisitor was infamously stern and stoic, so it was a shame so few got to see this side of her. More than once she had surprised everyone in their inner circle with unexpected compassion. That day on the Storm Coast was one of those times.
“I knew how much they meant to you,” she said softly, “because you’re a good leader too.”
So blunt and matter-of-fact. He could see why Blackwall was drawn to her, like a puppy desperate to be told he’s been a good boy (and punished when he wasn’t). There was one thing he was right about, though. She definitely deserved better.
“You gotta stop staring at me like that with your baby blues, boss, or I’m gonna get sweet on you.”
At that she gave a light laugh, “Ha! Swooping in already, are you? I’d expect nothing less,” she stood up, “but seriously, thank you for the talk. I do feel better.”
“Any time, boss. You hungry? Smells like rabbit stew over there, and I could use a decent meal after all those darkspawn.”
“Definitely,” she replied, and they headed back towards the camp together.
The high dragon flying overhead sent the entire village of Redcliffe into a panic. It had happened while Dorian and the Inquisitor were in the tavern confronting Dorian’s father. Thankfully, the beast did nothing else, but soon enough the Inquisition’s forces were being asked to deal with it.
Tracking the dragon to its brooding territory east of Redcliffe was easy. Without Cullen’s full forces at hand the Inquisitor decided, perhaps somewhat recklessly, to attack it herself with a small team. This was going to be Bull’s suggestion, and she surprised him by making it first.
“Yeeeeaaas!” he gave a wild grin, “So who’s coming with you, boss? Me, of course…” Cassandra looked at him as if he were mad.
“Well, it seems as if something exciting has came out of my father’s foolishness after all,” remarked Dorian.
The Inquisitor considered her plan, her expression hard, but she glanced at Bull briefly, smiling with her eyes. “Bull, Cassandra, and Solas with me. Our scouts identified it as a Ferelden Frostback. That means fire, so I’ll be offensive with frost damage, and Solas will provide barriers and healing. We’ll ground it with magic first, then once it’s down, Bull and Cassandra will go at its legs. It’s going to be very risky getting right under it like that, but crippling it will be the only way we get a chance at a killing blow. Ready? Let’s hunt ourselves a high dragon!”
The battle was exhilarating. Bull was beside himself waiting for his turn to go at the beast, Cassandra side-eyeing him the whole time. The Inquisitor positioned herself on a ridge up high, with Solas below to provide support for both her and the warriors. With a few well placed frost spells at its wings, the high dragon landed before them, enraged.
The Inquisitor watched Cassandra and Bull do an impressive dance about the feet of the dragon, and multiple times her heart dropped thinking one of them had been fried or crushed. But Solas’ barriers did their job well, and the warriors kept its attention successfully, assaulting its legs while she surrounded it in a blizzard and shot icicles through its wings and feet. Occasional bolts of lighting kept it confused, and shocked the dragonlings that had also been drawn to the battle.
Bull couldn’t help but glance back at the Inquisitor from time to time. Watching her call down the elements from the ridge, her face wearing an expression of intense concentration, and yes, joyous thrill, was intoxicating and served to elevate his own battle fury. At one point, the dragon finally caught on to her position and sent a fireball in her direction. Staring it down until the last moment, she Fade-stepped to another point on the ridge and continued her barrage, her face triumphant.
Finally, she used the mark to open a temporary crack in the Veil, using Fade energy to overwhelm the dragon. Bull saw his chance as the dragon’s jaws opened to immolate them with yet another jet of flame. He gave a mighty roar as he leaped onto its head, grabbing at the horns for purchase. The dragon immediately began trying to shake him off, but it was too late. Once Bull was in the correct stance, he brought his great axe down between the dragon’s eyes in an earth-shattering blow. He leaped off as the dragon fell, defeated.
“That last burst of flame nearly roasted us!” Cassandra exclaimed.
“Did you see the way everything lit up when it tried to fry us?” Bull was ecstatic, “Now that’s a fight!”
“Still, I’m glad you so skillfully dealt the final blow, Iron Bull,” Solas added, “A quick, clean death for such a majestic creature.”
“Majestic? Say that after you’ve seen a pile of dragon shit the size of your house,” Cassandra shuddered in disgust, then looked around, “Where is the Inquisitor?”
“Still on the ridge, grounding herself of excess energy,” Solas explained, pointing, “She’ll be with us momentarily. I believe the dragon’s hoard is up the hill there, ideally unaccompanied by a shit pile the size of a house…”
The Iron Bull let Cassandra and Solas proceed ahead of him and waited for the Inquisitor to come down. She remained on the ridge, so he went up to her instead. Her eyes were bright and almost glowing with residual frost magic, and the air around her was still charged enough to make the hairs on his arm stand up.
“Enjoyed that, did you?” he asked.
“Enjoyed? I don’t think I’ve ever felt this energized!” she shouted, “Is this what it feels like when you’re in one of your Reaver trances? How do you ever manage to come down from this?”
“I’ll show you,” and she watched him carefully. Bull squared his feet, took a slow, deep inhalation, and suddenly let out an ear-splitting roar that echoed over the valley. “That’s what you do! Now your turn! Just let it all out!”
Elphaba copied his stance and took a deep breath of her own. Her scream was rough and deeper than he expected it would be, almost tonal. As she unleashed her voice, a wave of electricity shot into the ground beneath her, and the ionized air surrounding her burst outward, knocking Bull off his feet.
“There you go!” he nodded encouragingly. Instead of getting up right away, he took a moment to enjoy the view of her towering over him in full armour. She was no match for him physically, of course, but knowing she could freeze the blood in his veins from a hundred feet away was thrilling. It certainly wasn’t often he encountered someone who could intimidate him that way.
“Come on,” she urged him to stand up, “Let’s see what kind of amazing shit we can get off the carcass,” and she nimbly made her way down the ridge.
Bull couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at her enthusiasm. At first, he had found her fascination with death and corpses kind of spooky (her being a mage didn’t help things either), but now he appreciated it as just another one of her odd quirks.
The rest of the team had come down from the camp to marvel at their handiwork and help dissect the body, though “excavate” seemed the more appropriate term in this case.
The Inquisitor was between the dragon’s open jaws with her sleeves rolled up, deftly standing with her feet on either side of the large tongue that lolled out onto the ground. With a skinning knife, she carefully worked out one of the incisors, root and all, from its socket in the upper jaw and held it up proudly.
“Now that’s a keeper,” she said reverently, “Oh, the things I can do with you…”
At that, Varric, who was dislodging scales nearby, gave her a concerned look, “You know, you scare me sometimes.”
The Inquisitor smirked and raised an eyebrow, “You want one too?”
Varric hesitated, “Well, maybe… alright…but just a small one. I can’t be carrying around a talisman that’s the size of my whole arm.”
“How about you?” she looked over at Bull warmly, “Bet you want the biggest one, right?”
“Actually, not for me, boss,” and both she and Varric looked surprised at that. “Dragon’s teeth are kind of a special qunari thing. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to take one.”
Elphaba gave him a curious expression, “Interesting! You’ll have to tell me about that sometime…”
The team was about a day away from Skyhold as they set up camp in the Frostbacks. The journey back from the Hinterlands had taken a couple days longer than usual due to the dragon remains they were hauling back with them (though even then, they had to leave much behind and trust that Cullen’s forces would be able to salvage the rest later).
Bull had noticed that the Inquisitor was much more relaxed for a few days after the dragon battle, and was even uncharacteristically sociable, but before long the tension began to set in again as Skyhold drew closer.
That afternoon, she disappeared to bathe in a stream nearby and had been worryingly long in returning. The scouts were conflicted about seeking her out, given her souring mood of late, and the idea of interrupting her during such an intimate activity didn’t help the matter. In the end, Bull volunteered to go find her, much to their relief.
“I’m certainly not going,” Varric shuddered, “I’ve already filled my quota for cold lectures on how disappointing my behaviour has been. It’s your turn for a chewing out, Tiny.”
Bull side-eyed the dwarf, “Varric, you did kind of fuck up by trusting Bianca with the location of the primeval thaig. You had to have known she’d try to find it.”
Varric sighed, “Honestly, I’m just glad I’m not Blackwall right now.”
Bull grimaced and got up to leave.
“Nice knowing you!” Varric shouted after him.
He found her wringing her hair out a ways downstream. It seemed she had simply taken her time after all. She was already partially dressed, in trousers and a loose cotton undershirt. It was just his shitty luck that he hadn’t arrived a few minutes earlier…
She noticed him approaching and flipped her head to toss the wet strands behind her back, “Of course they sent you,” she pulled on her boots and sighed, “Alright, let’s head back and show them I haven’t been eaten by a bear or some such,” and she made to grab her tunic, but Bull reached out and held her hand back.
“Hey, now hold on a minute, boss. If you’re not done taking some time to relax, don’t rush. I’ll just head right back and let ‘em know you’re alright.”
Up close to her like this, he couldn’t help but notice how the untied lacing of her cotton shirt most delightfully exposed her cleavage, and how a single strand of wet hair had managed to soak through the shirt just above her right breast. He also realized rather startlingly that the smell about her, of slightly charged air, which had up until now always puzzled him, was in fact not unlike the scent of the dragon they fought. The effect of all these things was quite dizzying.
Elphaba noticed him staring and blushed faintly, “Bull… it’s alright, I better head back.”
Bull cursed himself for the momentary loss of control, and attempted to salvage the situation, “Look, boss, the closer we get to Skyhold, the worse your brooding gets. You need to release some of that tension.”
“Well, I don’t see another dragon around here,” she shrugged, “so unless you’ve got any better ideas…” and then a flame seemed to ignite in her head.
Despite himself, Bull’s heart began to beat a little faster.
“Say, that whole thing you did where I hit you with a stick, does that actually work?” she asked.
Bull’s momentary disappointment gave way to surprise, “You want me to… hit you, boss?”
“Sure, why not,” she said as if he had made the suggestion. “I gathered up some kindling to take back before bathing, find a good branch from that pile over there.”
Bull hesitantly obeyed and found a solid, relatively straight piece. This was a most intriguing development.
As she tied up her hair and loosened her limbs she explained, “If I put up a barrier I’ll be fine. It’ll still hurt and knock the wind out of me, but you won’t do any serious damage.”
She turned around, got into a grounded stance, and squared her shoulders. He felt the air surrounding her warp and swell as she cast the barrier spell.
Bull blinked a few times, “We’re… really doing this, boss?”
“Of course. I’m ready. Go ahead and give that thing a swing at my upper back.”
“Have you… done this before?”
“What? No! But ever since I saw you after Adamant… I’ve thought about it…”
Yes, Adamant. One of the few battles that had ever left the Iron Bull seriously unnerved. Of course, he knew demons would be in the picture when he joined the Inquisition, but dealing with so many first hand… well, there isn’t much that can really prepare you for that, and the Nightmare was unlike anything he had ever even heard of.
“This is a qunari training exercise,” Bull explained, “for mastering fear. Are you afraid, boss?”
“No shit, Bull. Tomorrow I have to go back to making decisions that affect the lives of thousands, and pretend it’s no big deal while I do it. Hit me already!”
Whack!
He surprised her, so she let out a gasp, but she didn’t fall over. Of course he wasn’t using his full strength, but he respected her enough not to go easy either.
“Again!” she ordered.
Whack!
“Ungh!” she grunted. “It’s up to me to ensure Corypheus doesn’t destroy the world… I have to beat him, but how in the name of Andraste’s holy tits am I supposed to do that?” she spat through gritted teeth.
“You’ll find a way, boss! And you’re not alone!”
Whack!
“Aaaarggh! But some of you will die! Harder!”
“For this, we are glad to! Better that than go quietly into the future he has planned for us! You’ve seen it!”
WHACK!
“UUNGGH! You’ll die because of me!” she hissed, “Stroud died because of me…”
Instead of hitting her again, Bull dropped the stick and grasped her shoulders, not roughly but secure in case she lashed out. She was breathing heavily, almost hyperventilating.
Leaning down so he spoke at her ear, he affirmed, “Not because of you. Because of Corypheus. You hear me? You’re going to make calls, just like you already have, but no one is dying because of you. This is all happening because of him. Never forget that.”
Elphaba’s shoulders slumped under him, “And the qunari on that dreadnought… they were Corypheus’ fault too, I presume? Then why are you still so guilty over it?”
Bull bit back the sting he felt at that and clarified, “I don’t feel guilty about that choice, boss, not any more. I feel guilty that you had to make it for me.”
She was about to retort, but her mind was quickly calming and she caught herself. “I’m sorry, it was awful of me to bring it up that way,” she whispered.
“Just take a few deep breaths,” Bull coached her.
She closed her eyes and complied, letting out a long exhale, “I… Hawke had to come back. It was the best tactical choice given his influence, but… all I could think about was how hurt Varric would be if I had left him behind. I can’t keep making decisions like that. I can’t afford that kind of attachment. Maybe I’d have seen what was going on with Blackwall if I hadn’t let myself get so…”
“No, don’t go there, Elphaba,” he interrupted firmly, “You’re not reckless, you just care about your people. That’s important. It’s what makes your team strong. They’re the faces that remind you why you’re doing all this. You taught me that.”
As she listened to him, her breathing and pulse returned to normal, and he felt her composure return.
“So, how do you feel?” he asked.
“Better,” she said, “The qunari are on to something with that exercise, thank you, Bull,” and she made to move away from him, but he held her in place.
“Not so fast, boss, you missed the second part of the exercise last time,” he explained.
“Oh? What else is there?” her expression brightened, curious.
“Just like the dragon, you need to make space for coming down, releasing all that energy you’ve built up. The qunari have a series of meditation techniques. I don’t think I can teach those to you in just an afternoon, but I can do this…” and slowly he began to knead her shoulders.
Elphaba let out a surprised sigh of relief and leaned into his hands in spite of herself. “You are just full of surprises, aren’t you, Bull?”
After what just happened between them, she was certainly one to talk of surprises. He grinned and motioned for her to sit on the ground in front of a tree stump. He sat on it behind her and continued the massage. Her entire back seemed to be made of nothing but knots.
“Wow, boss, you are really wound up,” he remarked.
“You think?” she exaggerated sarcastically, “Ooooooh!”
“Yep, nasty spot there, if I can relax it, the rest of them should follow.”
She gasped, “You’re going to have to press harder in that case…sssszzzhh” she winced, “but slower! Maker’s breath, work up to it!”
Bull shook his head. She really was one tough woman. If not a mage, he was certain she’d have turned out a warrior.
“To do this right, I’m going to need better access,” he stated.
Carefully, Bull tugged the cotton shirt down below her shoulders. He was slow enough about it to give her ample time to protest, but she allowed him to proceed. Her skin was warm, covered in a light sheen of sweat from the exercise against fear, and he stroked the muscles of her neck and back appreciatively.
“Not even a bruise,” he exclaimed in astonishment.
“Barriers are great,” she smirked, and Bull could only nod in agreement.
Though stubborn at first, he eventually felt Elphaba begin to properly relax into his hands. Her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned her head back contentedly. The view it gave him of her breasts, heaving noticeably with her deep, slow breathing, and now only just covered by the half-open shirt, sent a shiver down his core. The Inquisitor was… well-endowed, legendarily so around Skyhold given the form-fitting outfits she typically wore. He felt himself twitch, her head painfully close to the awakened yearning between his legs.
He thought back to that time after Adamant again. He had asked her to hit him as a joke, certain she’d refuse. Even with his training, he had misread her. To Elphaba, his request seemed natural, and she complied without much thought, even encouraging him after each stroke, much like his own handlers once had. And he’d never admit it, but she gave a mean swing, constrained but focused (likely due to her proficiency with a magical staff). Something stirred in him that day, watching her strike him with such precision, in that tight black leather tunic she always preferred, the one with the silver filigree and amethyst clasp at her sternum. She was a leader he had grown to respect, but that was the moment she became a woman he wanted to know.
That was also the moment that gave him the first grain of insight into what she might need… and now this encounter with the dragon and wanting to reverse their roles in the exercise… Elphaba had a quietly assured yet simultaneously imposing personality that naturally made people defer authority to her. In many ways, she reminded him of the tamassrans he had known. This deference from others in turn only encouraged her to further mask her emotions, especially the strong ones, simply for the sake of getting shit done. But now he had learned that she got release from fear through thrill, from anger through pain. Resolving the kind of tension she had built in her muscles normally took days of therapeutic attention, but pain and subsequent relief had melted much of it away in a single session.
Watching her head slowly come to lean against his knee, he wondered if he had read the fleeting signs of interest from her correctly. Most women, and men, made their interest in the Iron Bull known rather unabashedly. Rare was it for he to be the one with the desires, doing the pursuing. Though she certainly still cared for Blackwall, any romantic feelings had been assuredly stamped out by his betrayal. In anyone else, her behaviour would have been clear. He noticed the way she relaxed around him, became more humorous, and even flirted a little. But with Elphaba, that could mean sexual interest, or it could mean something deeper, more like a kindred friendship. That was how it was between her and Dorian, and there was definitely nothing sexual there. She trusted Bull enough to be vulnerable around him, emotionally and physically. That was a precious gift he did not want to ruin.
He would have to proceed very carefully.
“Boss,” he whispered gently, “you’re falling asleep on me,” and he lightly stroked the long scar that ran from her forehead down across her left eye and cheek.
Her eyes fluttered open and she sat forward, “Well, you’re just that good I guess.” He couldn’t see her face, but he heard the knowing smile.
Slowly, she stood up and readjusted her shirt, tying the lace at her chest. Bull watched her absently. How did they stay up like that without any support?
“Blood magic,” she gave him a deadpan stare.
Bull’s eye widened. “Did I… did I say that out loud, boss?” he asked, mortified.
Her mouth twitched. Unable to hold her poker-face any longer, she burst out laughing, “No, but I had a guess as to what you were thinking, and now I know I was right! Oh Maker, your face!”
She pulled on her tunic and overcoat and headed back to the camp with the kindling, still cackling. Flummoxed, Bull took a moment to gather his thoughts, before grinning and following after her.
As she arrived back in camp with still the hint of a smirk on her face, Varric did a double-take.
“Was that your Ben-Hassrath training, Tiny? Maybe you should consider doing… whatever it was you just did… to Cassandra next.”