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Chapter Text

Mira Foret – Earthling, healer and now Herald of Andraste – followed the narrow track from the camp down to the beach, already hearing the sound of the Chargers. She'd missed it, she'd admit, far more than she thought she would have, for all that she claimed she had never been a fighter herself until now.

Fourteen years, she thought. I've been here on Thedas that long, living and breathing each step to bring me here to this moment. These events.

And she had not seen the Iron Bull in nearly three of them. Not since a single night in Val Royeaux, under a Satinalia moon, when all of Orlais was given to licentiousness and mayhem. No one had known that Sister Nightingale's quiet secretary had snuck away to a tiny little inn in the harbor district to meet with a Qunari merc in town on a job.

“I see the reports of Tevinters were not understated,” Cassandra noted, coming to stand at Mira's shoulder.

Mira barely heard her, she was too busy tracking through her beloved Chargers to find the tallest among them. She heard his roar before she saw him. And then she saw that he changed his posture mid-swing, standing a little taller, flourishing his battleaxe a little more savagely. He knew she was there. She wondered if Krem had told him, or if he'd caught a glimpse of her coming down the path.

“They appear to be a well organized group,” Solas commented, standing off to the side, his chin in his hand.

“The best,” Mira murmured before she could stop herself.

Varric said nothing, but she could feel his eyes on her. Her own stung and the wind gave enough of a push for a tear to streak down her face, unnoticed in the spray and drizzle that marked the Storm Coast. Bull had a new pauldron on his blind side, she saw. From here she couldn't make out the detail work, but it covered his entire shoulder and bicep with a strap running across his chest. He still wore an ankle brace and she almost tutted under her breath.

She was fully aware that she should play this cool, keep it professional. In her capacity as Herald of Andraste, she was simply supposed to be observing the Chargers with an eye towards hiring them as additional troops for Cullen, and personal protection for herself. But she knew she wouldn't be able to keep up a facade like that, not even for a minute. This was her family. And Bull...

Bull was her kadan.

Oh, they'd never talked about it. And she knew better than to expect any reciprocal feelings from him; he was still part of the Qun. But it didn't matter. He'd held her heart in his hands since he'd told her she should come with him from Hasmal the day they met, so long ago.

The fight wound down, with the Vints falling under the blades and arrows and yes, magic of the Chargers. Mira smiled slightly. She'd had no doubts, of course. And was well aware of the show Bull was putting on for her and the Inquisition. Her heart surged in her chest and her feet itched to run to him. She needed to hear his rumble in her ear again, feel it under her hands. She'd missed him so much.

“Let us meet these mercenaries,” Cassandra said, her tone twisting the title into something less than respectful. Mira snorted. She knew there was a divide between the loftier pursuits of people like the Seeker and those who fought for money.

“Hey, don't knock on mercs,” Varric defended before she could. “Especially these. They have a reputation for being...”

“Honorable,” Mira finished. “There is no more trustworthy group than the Chargers.”

The others looked at her in varying degrees of incredulity and surprise, but she didn't care. It didn't matter now what came out of her past to haunt her, including her time with them. The Anchor was in her hand and they needed her more than they needed to judge her previous life. She strode down the rest of the path and into the aftermath of the skirmish.

“...Five or six wounded, Chief, no dead,” Krem was saying as she approached. Bull's good eye landed on her where she leaned against the trunk of a tree that had washed ashore. He'd always called her driftwood, floating from place to place on the current, never putting down roots. From Earth to a Dalish clan to him and the equally as nomadic lifestyle of a merc. At least until she'd gone to work for the Nightingale. It was fitting that they would reunite on a shoreline, scattered with flotsam cast out of the Waking Sea.

“That's what I like to hear,” Bull said, his eye still on her. Krem half turned, grinning when he saw her there. She smiled back. “Let the throatcutters finish up, then break out the casks.”

“What's on tap these days?” Mira asked Krem, although she hadn't taken her eyes off Bull either. The lieutenant didn't even blink at being something of a third wheel. He was used to it.

“Eh, small ale from Crestwood,” he said.

“Do I still rate a mug of my own?”

Krem turned back to Bull, waiting for his call on it. His expression had gone flat, but she knew him. He was compartmentalizing. He'd seen her squad and was reorganizing himself in his head to put on a facade. The merc leader. Behind it though, she could tell he was waiting to see how long she let him get away with it. His regard was much warmer, assessing her from head to toe in an instant. It was likely he guessed what color her smalls were. She raised an eyebrow at him, waiting.

“You have to ask?” he said finally. Krem turned away, leaving them alone on the little slice of pebbles between the waves and the driftwood Mira leaned on. She saw his teeth flash in a grin as he went by.

“Hello, Bull,” she said when they were alone.

“Hello, Chestnut.”

The space between them felt alive. Like lightning might strike at their feet if they weren't careful. She saw when Bull noted that her hands were clenched under her elbows where she'd crossed her arms. His own flexed once, but he made no other movement.

“The boys looked good.” He hummed an affirmative, and she bit her lip. A smirk came and went so fast she thought she might have imagined it. “Fuck, it's good to see you.”

His arms turned, rotating outwards in a subtle gesture of invitation. It was all she needed. She launched herself at him, her arms around his neck, her hands slipping around the bases of his horns. He'd hefted her right into him, arms spanning her back to hold her tight enough that she could barely breathe, her feet dangling as she couldn't decide whether or not to wrap them around his waist. He pressed his forehead to hers. His agate green eye met her gray ones and for a moment they simply breathed each other in.

“Your hands are cold,” he said softly.

“It's raining,” she replied, just as quiet. His big hands shifted under her ass, hitching her legs around him. She bit back the sound that wanted to escape her throat, and he knew it if his grin meant anything.

“I could warm you up.”

“I'd let you.”

Distantly Mira heard footsteps on the rocks. Several sets. As well as the clink of mugs and a deep sigh. Krem's. “Not even two minutes. Damn, I owe Grim a sovereign.”

“What?” Cassandra sputtered. Mira heard Varric chuckle.

She didn't have the strength yet to pull away from Bull and glare at them all for interrupting. And he seemed in no hurry to let her go. They continued to hold each other tight, their brows resting together, their breaths slowing to match. The pocket of air between them grew warm, banishing the chill of the rain and wind.

“It would appear, Seeker, that the Herald and this mercenary are already...acquainted,” Solas said drily. Mira bit back a smile but Bull grinned wide.

Varric snorted aloud. “Ya think? Hey, Dandelion, you gonna charge a fee or should we just throw a curtain over the show?”

Bull laughed, throwing his head back while he did. Mira was stretched closer still, since she hadn't let go of his horns. His hands were steady beneath her, his fingers pressed into her leathers, although she doubted anyone could tell. She was tempted to lick a path right up his neck, but held back. There were already going to be plenty of questions, no need to make it worse.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

Bull looked back into her face, his lips still curled in a grin. He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, then put her down. “I'm here now.”

Chapter Text

Their small scout camp seemed to have blossomed in size, far more than what the additional numbers alone could account for. The Chargers were boisterous, numerous, although the majority of them had stayed in their base camp further down the beach, and entirely at home with each other. It was a good sign, Varric thought. It meant they worked well together, and were well used to doing so in strange environments. But the best part was seeing Dandelion among them. She was welcomed with open arms, quite literally, at times. They’d barely gotten a quick introduction to some of the more prominent - pertinent, he corrected in his head - members of the group, and then the Herald had been swept away into a flurry of greetings and hugs.

“Aneth ara, lethallan,” he’d heard her whisper to the woman wearing the bright green vallaslin and what was purportedly not a staff as they embraced. And it struck him, he finally had a bit of Dandelion sorted.

When he’d met her for the first time, on a snowy mountainside under the yawning swirl of the Breach, chaos all around and more than a little violence, he hadn’t been able to place her strange accent. It seemed so familiar, and yet, it wouldn’t come clear. It had bugged him that he couldn’t pin it down to more than just 'somewhere in the Marches'. But now a piece had fallen into place.

Dandelion sounded Dalish. Her accent was reminiscent of Merrill’s. Which had fascinating implications. Had she learned Elvish before Common? That seemed...notably odd for a human.

But even that wasn’t quite right. Some of her vowels were long, almost Orlesian. While some others were too clipped to be anything other than northwest of Kirkwall, where there was more Nevarran influence. It seemed he’d nicknamed her appropriately and hadn't realized it. She’d floated all over this continent, far more than he’d first thought. She’d claimed to have no roots, but here they were, among these mercs. And they went deep. It also made him realize that his instinct to give her a name evocative of the kind he often gave elves was spot on.

He sat at the fire, letting the exuberance flow around him as the Herald and the one called Krem opened a bottle that looked remarkably like Golden Scythe 4:90 Black with the Iron Bull. The big Qunari laughed as the Herald made a sour face, but gamely sipped it.

“Ugh, Bull, this shit will tear my throat out,” she complained once she was done sputtering. “I'm afraid to let a drop of it hit the ground. It'll kill the grass.”

“More than Maraas-Lok?” the man himself said while still chortling.

Her expression vacillated and Varric was intrigued. He’d never gotten within less than smelling distance of the Qunari liquor, and that was saying plenty. But evidently this woman who’d fallen from the sky and had more layers to her than a dwarven puzzlebox had tried it. And lived to tell the tale.

“So, Dandelion,” he heard himself say, “how’d you meet this bunch?”

At the back of the camp, dutifully polishing her armor and pretending she wasn't listening, he saw the Seeker suddenly sit up straighter. She never was one to shy away from good gossip, especially when she couldn't get it out of the subject on her own. Next to her, Solas was watching it all, bemused and silent. Most interestingly, the Herald looked to the Iron Bull before answering. He quirked an eyebrow in a speaking look that seemed to leave it to her discretion.

“I met Bull and Krem first. In Hasmal.”

“Ahh, that was a good day,” the Bull put in. Dandelion shoved him, barely making him move an inch.

“You lost an eye!” she exclaimed. “I had to sew you up.”

Bull grinned. “Yeah, but I got you and Krem de la Krem out of it.”

He makes a joke out of his second’s name, but not hers, Varric thought. He’d heard the Qunari call her ‘Chestnut’, and with the same kind of inflection he used when he called Hawke 'Twisty'. It was more than affectionate, it had significance. More layers. Granted, he could see where the name came from. The Herald’s hair was the same deep red brown as the wood of the titular tree, that swathe of gray in it notwithstanding. Which, now that he thought about it, was even funnier, given that her last name meant ‘wood’. In Orlesian, no less. Curiouser and curiouser.

“Anyway,” she went on, ignoring Bull for the moment and drawing Varric back from his mental wanderings, “we were in the same merc group for a year or two. Then I stayed with him when he decided it was high time he ran his own outfit.”

There was a collective, mildly cacophonous agreement from several others. Someone started a chanting refrain that the others picked up. A marching song, he figured. They must have all been together and chosen to follow the Bull when he left whoever was stupid enough to let them go. The Herald sang it along with them, word for word. The look she turned on the Iron Bull was warm and joyful and something else. He couldn't see it, having his good eye turned away from her. Varric got the feeling that was the only reason she'd allowed it on her face.

Andraste's flaming ass, Varric thought. She’s in love with him. And he doesn't actually know.

He looked the Qunari over, seeing what he could see. Bull didn’t watch her like a man pining for anything, but at the same time, his arm was draped casually behind her, welcoming her into his personal space. On his blind side, no less. And she’d taken it, sitting so close to him she could have thrown her legs over his. They had none of the kind of awkward fumbling two people who weren’t completely accustomed to the position would have. It wasn’t just comfortable, it was expected.

“Well, we needed the healer,” Bull said, glancing slyly at the Herald to see how she’d react. Her tipping back out of the way of the horns as his head turned was so automatic Varric would bet she didn't even know she'd done it. The warmth of her expression had turned teasing. The rest of it was hidden entirely now that Bull was looking at her.

Called it.

“And a good thing too, Chief,” Krem interjected. “You’d be in pieces by now otherwise.”

That got a hearty laugh, from all of the Chargers. Bull’s grin slipped sideways and he didn’t deny it. Dandelion laughed as hard as the rest of them, shaking her head ruefully. Varric noticed that she’d poured most of her drink into Bull’s cup. He’d noticed it too and drank deep to empty it with complete nonchalance. Krem was looking on, but his face said that this was normal behavior for them. They had a history, these three. Something that bound them together tighter than mere lifestyle and occupation.

“Speaking of pieces, do you remember the time with the snake pit?” Bull asked her and she shuddered.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget that one.”

“What, don’t like snakes, Dandelion?” Varric asked.

“No, I’m fine with them. But generally I like them one at a time. Not a whole nest accidentally awakened from hibernation.”

“We ate well,” Bull pointed out.

“And if I never have to eat smoked snake again, I can die happy,” Dandelion retorted fervently.

“Oh, c’mon, Chestnut, it wasn’t that bad.”

“It was in chunks.”

“Well yeah, what’d ya think Rocky’s stuff would do to them?”

“I never did get the smell of explosives and snake out of that backpack.”

Varric looked at the dwarf in question, who was smiling into his mustache. Demolitions, eh? That could come in handy.

“Beats darkspawn,” Rocky said.

“Oh, I’ll drink to that,” the Herald agreed with the same vehemence as when she denounced eating snake.

Huh, that was telling. How did this woman end up working for the Nightingale? And when? It was plainly obvious that whatever parting she'd had from the Chargers had been amicable. But long enough ago that she was genuinely missed by all of them. Which meant they hadn't kept in touch. Eh, he thought to himself, the merc life isn't for everyone. Doesn't lend itself well to regular correspondence either. Maybe she just got tired of it.

He watched her clink her mug to the dwarf’s and swallow down the last sip of the Scythe. She made a sound that would make the Seeker proud and leaned into Bull’s side. Whatever she said to him didn’t pass farther than their little bubble, but Varric could guess. The mercenary leader smirked and Dandelion was blushing a little.

“Chargers!” Bull shouted suddenly. “To camp with you. It’s a long walk to Haven.”

In ones and twos the group broke up as they wandered to their tents without question or objection. The same tents they’d set up in a blink of an eye earlier. At some point Solas had stolen away, Varric hadn’t even seen him go. The Seeker had no more excuses to polish and she made her goodnights too. Varric stayed at the fire and idly watched Bull, Dandelion and Krem talk among themselves in low voices that didn’t carry. He didn’t think he’d been deliberately shut out, more that they had so much to catch up on they’d forgotten he was there.

At least he thought that until the Qunari’s eye landed on him. Bull gave him a look that was all too knowing and Varric felt the urge to salute his observational skills. He had a feeling people underestimated the Iron Bull. He made a mental note not to be one of them. They shared a grin and he pushed himself off his log to find his bedroll.

“Don’t forget to get some shut-eye yourself, your Worship,” he said in passing.

Krem snorted and Dandelion pushed him with her foot so he lost his balance. Then she turned to Varric. “I will, I promise.”

“Sooner or later,” Bull drawled by way of agreement.

Varric realized he should have brought the ear plugs he’d jokingly sworn to. And not for the sound of wildlife. The Herald was cackling now and he couldn’t bring himself to make a scolding comment about what was likely to be a noisy night. She looked happy, something that had been sorely lacking in her as long as he'd known her. If these mercs stuck around, maybe they really would be able to save the world after all.

Chapter Text

Mira sprawled across Bull's chest, hearing the thump of his heart under her ear. A haze of pleasure buzzed in her blood in time with her own pulse, making her feel simultaneously lighter than air and heavier than stone. They were sticky with sweat and...other things, and Bull was running his fingertips up and down her spine in a way that meant he wasn't done just yet, but was letting her catch her breath. He was thoughtful like that. On occasion.

“Did you mean it, what you told Varric about the day we met being a good one?” she murmured into his gray skin, the cast of it only a few shades lighter than her eyes. It had been something of a running joke between them for years.

“S'not something I regret, Chestnut, if that's what you're asking,” he replied. She smiled against him as a finger poked her side in playful rebuke. Then he smoothed his hand over the spot. It still amazed her at how gentle he could be, and how much of her he could reach with just one hand. “Nothing could compare to seeing the most beautiful creature stand in front of me wielding a needle like a sword.”

Mira snorted and lifted her head to look up into his face. Here, in the privacy of her cabin with the door locked and Haven and all its demands shut away, Bull was comfortable with removing his eyepatch. The scars were withered now, faded into his skin as if they'd always been there. She kept the lanterns doused and the curtains drawn over the windows so it was dim enough not to bother him. Only the glow of the hearth lit the room. He wasn't truly completely blind in that eye, but light made it ache as it tried to focus. They didn't need to see each other anyhow. Not after all this time.

“I'm not that beautiful, you lump.”

“You are to me.” His hand slipped up her back to cradle her scalp. His thumb smoothed across the streak of gray she'd had since falling out of the Fade. She wasn't sure how she felt about it just yet. She curled into his touch, still craving it like it was the first time. “Water and wood, my unbreakable, beautiful girl.”

She smiled again. She couldn't help it when he got metaphorical like that. Mira had entered Thedas by appearing inside a tree, an irony given her name. She'd started her life over again and again even before she'd met him. Bull likened her to driftwood, or sometimes to an ocean returning to the clouds to become rain. Always new, always different. Always the same at her core. She suspected it was a Qun thing, but had never asked.

“I think you might have saved my life,” she murmured.

“Pretty sure you saved mine. We're even.”

“We aren't keeping score, you know.”

He grinned and pushed at her shoulders. “Sit up.”

She did, balancing her palms on his gut. The Anchor sent a zing up her arm and her elbow buckled, but he hadn't let go of her shoulders yet, and he held her steady. Now there was a metaphor.

“You're thinking too loud, Chestnut,” he said. Long fingers traced over her skin, bringing nerve endings to life in all the places he'd touched her for the last hour. Her body clenched, and she could tell he felt it by the way his lips curled sideways. He lifted her by her ass and dropped her on his already hard cock. She hissed and he groaned as she slid down on him.

“Have I told you recently that I like the way you fill me up?” she asked, going for nonchalant and not sure how well she succeeded. Years of being with him may have gotten her accustomed to his size, but it was still always a shock for the first moment.

“Yeah, but you can tell me again.”

He pulled at her hips, grinding deeper into her warmth without lifting her. The angle changed and hit every spot inside her that made her white out in sensation. She gasped, digging her nails into his skin, and he rumbled a sound of pure appreciation. She forgot what it was she was trying to say. He kept her there effortlessly, letting the pleasure build as their bodies' pulses and spasms dictated the pace.

“Tell me, Mira,” he said, a thread of command behind it. “Tell me how much you like it.”

“I...I like...” A clench, involuntary and overwhelming, cut off her words. Bull's only sign that he felt it was harder pressure from his fingers where they were wrapped around her hips. There would be bruises there later. She clenched again.

“Yes?” Bull asked, his tone deliberately bored and unconcerned. She hated and loved that tone. “Tell me, and I'll let you come.” Again, he didn't say but she heard anyhow.

“Bull, please...” she cried, latching onto the idea with all the strength she had left. It no longer surprised her how fast he could bring her to climax. Not when he'd spent enough time already priming her for it. And following through on it.

“Ah ah, not until you tell me.”

He'd stopped grinding into her and simply held her motionless, poised in such a way that she couldn't get relief. She needed friction, even the tiniest amount, to drop her over the edge. He knew it too. She choked back a curse and closed her eyes, grasping at the tattered thoughts trying to escape her brain.

“I'm so full, like I can't breathe without feeling you there. You make me feel safe. You make me feel cherished.” It all came out in a rush, before she lost the words entirely.

“Good girl,” he praised and lifted his hands from her hips. She slammed her body against his, chasing the bright coil that warmed her insides and made her spine tingle. Suddenly his knuckle pressed against where they were joined, the hard bone rubbing her clit as she rode him with just the right amount of force.

Mira shattered around him, barely clinging to him as her body imploded and her throat went sore from shouting. He caught her as she toppled, rolling them over so she could be boneless beneath him. The bed protested but took it. She'd need to find something bigger and sturdier if this was going to become a habit. Bull balanced on his elbows, his knees folded under her ass so her legs were splayed over his thighs. This angle worked better for him to finish inside her, and she felt aftershocks race through her at the thought of it, spiraling into another onslaught of sensation as he drove deep. She cupped his jaw in her small hands, not needing light to find him. The rasp of his beard was stiff against her palms, his breath hot and fast. He was close.

“I love when you let yourself go,” she whispered into his throat, the only thing she could reach with her lips. “When you fill me to overflowing and I know how much you enjoyed it.”

Bull growled, deep in his chest, making her whole body vibrate with it. And then she felt him come, throbbing inside her. It tipped her over the edge again and she could barely breathe through the orgasm that washed through her.

She was still in a daze as he pulled out of her, lowering her legs to a more comfortable position before resting himself against her chest. The near horn slid against her ribs and she automatically lifted her arm to make room for it. It wasn't something he did often, knowing she couldn't bear his weight for long. But she treasured the moments when he did, when he let down his guard. When he wasn't being the man in control of their passion, he was just Bull. Just hers. He needed things too, sometimes. This was one of the only moments he allowed himself to bask in her devotion. She cradled the back of his head with her other hand, holding him to her for another moment longer.

He grunted, a puff of air against the inner slope of her breast. He would either pull away or bite her, she knew from experience. But he did neither. Instead he followed the line of her body with a fingertip, making her shiver at the light touch.

“Can I keep score here, Chestnut?” he asked in a lazy drawl.

Mira made a face he couldn't see, affection and exasperation in one. “Sure, babe.”

The old endearment slipped out before she could stop it, but he didn't seem to mind. There was no pause in his fingers, no reproving murmur. Once he'd looked askance at her calling him that, but that was a long time ago. Before he understood that she wanted to call him something that was just for him, but didn't have emotional connotations to it. At least, none that he was uncomfortable with.

Damn the Qun, she thought, as she always did.

“That was four.”

“I'm aware. I was there for it.” Her body felt loose and languorous as she chuckled. She didn't need him to count how many times he'd made her come. Two before, and two now.

He lifted his head from her breast and was grinning at her. “I'm gonna do it one of these days. I'm gonna get you over five.”

“I still have to be able to walk, just remember that.”

His grin grew teeth, even as he hauled himself off of her and crossed the cabin to where a basin of water was staying warm by the fire. He brought it back and began wiping her down, checking her limbs for flexibility as he did. Anywhere she flinched, he massaged until it was soothed. They might joke about fucking until she couldn't move, but he would never actually do it. Well, not when she had a meeting to get to anyway. Especially a meeting that was on the other side of town from here. He leaned over her, his head suspiciously close to her pelvis.

“I could do it right now,” he said, the heat of his breath against her core making her shiver all over again. “You think I could?”

“I think you can do anything you put your mind to, Bull,” she replied, drawing up one leg to rest on his shoulder. To hell with her meeting. She deserved time off from saving the blighted world, didn't she? “Make it last.”

Chapter Text

Mira brushed the leaves and grit from the shrine and laid the flowers on top of it. She knelt there for a moment, wondering if anyone would do this for her someday. Or would her shrine end up being something too large to get close to, too grandiose to resemble the person who inspired it. Certainly she didn't recognize herself anymore and this had barely begun. She glanced up to see both Bull and Varric looking on. Varric appeared to be taking notes in his head for something or other, but Bull...

He was watching her. Watching her reactions and the sorrow on her face. He likely knew what she was thinking of. The old, worn out pain of being invisible gave a tired pang, but it no longer had the power to truly upset her. She wasn't that person anymore. She wasn't rootless and nameless, a file folder and a single suitcase containing all her worldly goods. She wasn't the woman he'd met the day he lost his eye either, not really. She had been lost and grieving and alone. But now she had him. And Krem and Dalish and Stitches. She had Varric and yes, even Solas. Someday her ashes would rest in this earth, and she would be remembered. Someday so would his. He was the one who'd taught her to be more philosophical about death.

A half smile curled his lips and he offered a hand to her to help her up. It had been a long hike to get here, and would be an equally long hike back to Redcliffe to tell the widower she'd done what he asked of her. And while they were at it, they would probably end up doing half a dozen other things as well. Such was the way of being at the grassroots level of an organization that hadn't yet made its mark upon the world. She took Bull's hand and let him haul her to her feet.

He overshot it, of course, making her reel into him and his solid strength. It was a tacit reminder. He was there. He would always hold her up. He would always catch her.

“Trying to sweep me off my feet?” she teased, because he wanted her to. He wanted her to laugh, to be aware in this moment that death was a long way off if the world was kind.

“I mean, I suppose I could, if that would do it for you,” he replied, all bluster and grumble and not meaning any of it. It wasn't a kind world, not by a long shot. But they had each other in it. That counted for something. The glimmer in his eye that said he could see how soul tired she was already counted for something too.

Varric, meanwhile, snorted at their bantering. Mira looked down at him to see him smirking at them. “This a thing for you two? Chivalrous displays that would make the Seeker turn fourteen shades of pink from the romance of it all? I gotta say, it's kind of cute.”

“Cute,” Bull said sourly. Mira cackled and pushed away from Bull's chest to get them moving again. She didn't get very far, though. Her hand was still in his. “I dunno, Chestnut, are we cute?”

“Hmm, me maybe, but not you.”

“Damn right.” He grinned, saucy and wide and she made a show of their joined hands with a raised eyebrow. Bull laughed and dragged her close enough so that he could kiss her knuckles. Then he let her go.

“And yet, you just did that,” Varric said, falling in beside them as they moved away from Senna's shrine. Behind them, Solas followed, keeping his thoughts to himself. “Are you sure you aren't covering up some romance here?”

Mira snorted this time. “Fen'Harel's fluffy feet, what on earth would I want romance for?” She turned to look at Varric, but in her periphery she saw Solas trip over nothing. He glared at the back of her head, only belatedly realizing he was in her eyeline. “You all right there, Solas?”

“Perfectly fine, Herald.” Dry, clipped and frosty. She smiled. It was going to come back and bite her – no pun intended – but she loved getting a rise out of him. She wasn't sure just how much he knew of her yet, but she'd seen his shadow on the edges of her dreams. He knew she wasn't precisely what she said. And she was fully aware that he wasn't either. So far, both of them tread lightly around it. Although she happily took the opportunity to rile him up when it presented itself. Not like he could call her out about it, right?

“Anyway, Varric,” she continued, getting back on track, “what makes you think I want romance out of life? Romance is messy and never as star spangled as people want to think it is.”

“Well, I can't argue with you there. Still, you don't want to settle down somewhere, have a few kids, save the world by planting potatoes or whatever?”

She stopped on the path and waited until he was looking at her fully. “None of those things require romance in order to be satisfying. Not even the kids. Besides, I wouldn't make Bull settle down. He'd have to give up all those laundry maids and serving lads. And then what would they do with themselves? It would be cruel.”

Bull laughed, a raucous sound that startled a nearby bird into flapping away.

Varric was eyeing her with an expression that said he smelled nugshit. On some levels it was, but she'd lied through her teeth about it long enough for it to feel natural. She wouldn't pin anything on Bull that he didn't want, regardless of her own feelings on the matter. It would happen in its own time or not at all, she'd known that for a long time. She didn't need anyone jabbing at it. She gave Varric a warning look in return, just so there was no mistake about it.

“So, free to float on the breeze, is that it, Dandelion?” Varric said somewhat facetiously, in that way he had when he was making shit up that would evolve into something far more profound.

“Yup, that's it.” She took the lead of the group again, circling them around to the path that would lead back to the King's Road. “And furthermore, do you honestly think I'll ever get to settle down, even if I wanted to? I'm already too infamous for my own good. I'll be lucky to get out of this with my skin intact as it is.”

“Huh, there is that.”

“You truly do not believe that someday you will find permanence and stability, Herald?” Solas asked. She didn't let the insightful tone of the question trip her up and kept walking, turning sideways on the slope of the hill so she didn't slip. Apparently he could find a way to call her out. Not many knew of her life full of chaos. Well, not many who weren't Chargers, anyway. Not to mention, that was a rich statement coming from someone with plans to take down the Veil.

“Happily ever after is good for fairytales,” she made herself say. “But we all know this isn't a fairytale.”

She put her foot down carelessly on the path, and a loose rock wobbled under it. She would have fallen – and then probably rolled painfully – down the rest of the hill, but Bull caught her around the middle. He'd been so quiet she'd lost track of him in her own attempt to keep herself from giving it all away to him. He was perceptive and observant about more things than she could name, but that was one she'd always managed to keep to herself. How desperately she wanted that happy ending.

“C'mon Chestnut, you've walked long enough. Hop up.” He got in front of her, offering his broad back to her. She rapped her knuckles against the haft of his greataxe.

“Right, so you can stick me in the eye with this thing?”

He grinned over his shoulder, although it didn't quite reach his eye. He could tell how much the subject was getting under her skin. So he was doing what he'd always done – redirecting. “Is that what we're calling it these days?”

“You ass.”

He slid the weapon further down his shoulder, leaving a clear space for her. She couldn't very well deny him now, and hoisted herself onto his back with her arms around his neck. He held onto her legs, each hand wrapping around her knees like she was a child. Then he started walking as if it wasn't strange at all to be carrying her like this.

“You end up making a habit of this, I'm gonna put stirrups on your belt,” she teased.

“Thought we got rid of those with the saddle,” he tossed back. Varric snorted and even Solas seemed to make some sort of undignified noise.

She grinned and rested her cheek against the back of Bull's head. It faded as she met Varric's gaze. He looked apologetic that he'd brought it up, mixed with some kind of melancholy understanding. She pulled herself together to offer a wan smile. Someday she'd get the fairytale, if she was lucky. Someday, when Bull was no longer a tool of the Qun, and all of this was over. She glanced at Solas, seeing that he also had a pensive look on his face. Maybe someday she'd convince him not to destroy the world before she got to enjoy her happily ever after too. A girl could dream, right?

Chapter Text

“Hey, Boss, you got anything to spice this up?”

Mira glanced across the camp to where Bull was preparing skewers of tusket to lay across the fire. Over the years, she'd eaten all manner of things she wouldn't have thought were palatable, and given her knowledge of herbs, it often fell to her to make them so. She reached for her healer's bag and examined the tidy pouches that held all her supplies.

“Hmm, I've got Prophet's Laurel and dawn lotus here. I think I still have some royal elfroot too, but that's probably too overpowering for tusket.”

Cassandra wandered past, stopping short when she overheard them. “You can cook with those?”

“Of course. Plenty of medicinal herbs work as seasonings. How do you think people first discovered their properties?”

“I suppose I hadn't thought about it.” She paused, the look on her face contemplative as she glanced between the two of them. “I suppose I had not thought about your ability to cook either, I must confess.”

“Healer, sous chef. It's kind of the same thing, really,” Mira said lightly. “You try keeping fifty mercs to a healthy diet sometime. It can be a challenge when they all want to give the impression that they subsist on barely cooked meat and beer.”

“Hey,” Bull drawled, mock offended. “I like bananas too.”

“I know, babe. A bit too exotic to get in Ferelden, though.”

“I know, right? I wonder if the Ambassador could pull some strings.”

“Probably.”

She ignored the way Cassandra was staring at them and hauled herself up to carry her bag to his side. He didn't paw through it, knowing she had a system for keeping them all organized, but he did lift each pouch to his nose for a second, determining which would work best with the meat. There were still times Mira missed the flavors she was familiar with from Earth, but after so many years on Thedas, her palate had adapted pretty well. Tusket reminded her of pork...if the pigs had been eating out of a swamp all their lives.

Thunder rolled in the distance, not from the clouds, but from further down the beach. Bull cocked his ear in that direction, taking note of it. “We should do something about that.”

“You just want to kill a dragon,” she teased.

“Well, yeah. But she got the shit beat out of her by that giant. That wing is broken.”

Mira could follow his thinking easily enough. A high dragon that couldn't fly wouldn't live long anyway. She'd starve to death, or become the prey to something else. There were bears here, as well as roving packs of wild Mabari. It would be a mercy to make death quicker for her.

She rested her hand on his shoulder, leaning against his bulk while he worked. “You just want to kill a dragon,” she repeated, holding up a hand before he could make any kind of fuss. “But you're probably right.”

Bull grinned and handed her back her bag after selecting the Prophet's Laurel. He poured some into a small mortar and ground it fine with the pestle. Sprinkled on the meat along with some salt, it would temper the gaminess. He lay the skewers over the fire and the scent of meat and herbs filled the air over the smell of the Waking Sea. Cassandra, meanwhile, had settled herself under the awning of the nearest tent to sharpen her sword out of the sea spray and drizzle. Dorian was visible inside, poring over notes they'd gathered from some rogue Venatori. They were all in Tevene, and coded to boot. He'd spent the last few hours deciphering them.

“You think it would be better to kill the dragon now, while she is weak?” the Seeker asked.

“More humane than letting her suffer,” Mira replied. She reached for a skewer that fell outside of Bull's periphery on his blind side and turned it. The fire was hot there and the meat was already starting to scorch. His arm went around her waist to support her so she didn't topple into the flames herself. She wondered how it looked to the others, to see them work together so effortlessly when the rest of them were still sniping and grousing at their circumstances. She wondered how she would have survived any of this without him.

“That is true,” Cassandra said, bringing her back to the topic at hand. “Do you think we can manage it?”

“What, the four of us? Sure. Two warriors, a fire mage and me? No problem.”

“You still have that poison I gave you for your arrows?” Bull asked idly.

“Of course.”

“Just don't hit any of us with it. It's saar-qamek. Don't need us puking our guts out while hallucinating in the middle of a fight.”

“I know.”

Dorian poked his head out of the tent. “You really gave her that?”

“Sure, why not? It's effective against most stuff. And she knows what she's doing.”

“Aww, thanks, babe.” He nudged her hip with his shoulder, leering at her companionably.

“I'm just surprised you let something so Qunari into the hands of the Inquisition.”

“No, I gave it to her. And only her.” Bull's expression darkened in a flash and she could just about feel Dorian working himself up to retort something scathing.

“Gentlemen,” she said sharply, before they could descend into bickering. It was mildly amusing to see them both back down. “Dorian, remember that Bull and I have worked together for over a decade. We know each other's capabilities well enough, I assure you.”

Dorian hummed noncommittally and went back to the notes.

“This weather will make fighting a dragon more difficult,” Cassandra said into the still charged air. Mira looked up at the clouds, and frowned. The Seeker wasn't wrong; the Vinsomer was a storm dragon.

“Ugh.”

---

The Seeker really wasn't wrong.

Even with Dorian's barriers over them all, the lightning and static of the dragon had them all on edge and shying like fly-stung horses. Mira found a chunk of driftwood to stand on, the better to get her feet off the ground and away from the electrical current Vinsomer sent out with each attack. Bull had already been flung through the air once by a swipe of talons, proving that, even injured, the dragon was formidable. Cassandra had taken the brunt of a spew of lightning into her shield, which promptly exploded into wood chips and shrapnel. And Dorian had laid so many fire sigils on the beach that the air turned foggy as the rain hissed into vapor from them.

Mira dipped more arrows into her little pot of saar-qamek and took aim. She was forever grateful that she'd learned archery instead of sticking with dual wield daggers. There was no way she was willing to get that close to a mature dragon. The Vinsomer trumpeted as the arrows hit her, the poison getting into her bloodstream and weakening her attacks as it took effect. From where Mira stood, she could hear Bull roaring something in Qunlat and smiled to herself. It was very like him to shout such a thing at a time like this.

She held back her next volley as Bull became a whirlwind of powerful strikes and flashing greataxe. The brightly colored hide of the dragon faded somewhat as she lost blood to the attack. Mira expected that he was reveling in being covered in it and made a face. She made a mental note to take him away from the camp to clean up. No doubt he would need to purge some of that berserker energy too. She could think of some ways that didn't require the ears of their other companions.

For that matter, it might be easier just to send them away from here and let him have at me, she thought. Wouldn't be the first time we fucked in the open air while it was raining.

The dragon let loose another surge of crackling static and stamped her feet. She tried creating a vortex of hurricane strength wind, but didn't quite manage it with only one wing. Still, it was the best chance for Mira's arrows to find their marks. The pull would draw them to her, even if they didn't pierce her hide deeply. The poison didn't need a wound to get through anyhow. Just spilling it on skin was enough to absorb it.

Cassandra was swinging her sword with two hands now, and Dorian had cast a barrage of fire. Bull was getting to his feet after being thrown again. The Vinsomer fought hard, but was slowing. It wouldn't be long before she fell. Mira pulled the last arrow from her quiver and drew fully on the bow. The shot was one she couldn't do all the time, but with enough preparation it would be devastating. The dragon screamed and stumbled. Bull jumped on her back, balancing on the ridge of her neck. He brought the full weight of his greataxe down at the base of her skull, avoiding her horns. The Vinsomer gave a final weak trumpet, then collapsed to the pebbles, lifeless.

Mira jumped down from the driftwood chunk and raced across the beach. The air smelled strongly of ozone and blood and she wrinkled her nose reflexively.

“Atasshi!” Bull shouted triumphantly.

“Atasshi,” she agreed, looking him over quickly to see if any of the blood on him was his own. “Told you you'd get to kill a dragon someday.”

He cupped her face in one large hand and kissed her hard. He even tasted like blood, but it wasn't nearly as offputting as she thought it might be. He was feverishly warm against her and she didn't have long to get Dorian and Cassandra out of here before they got more than they bargained for.

“Let them go back to camp before you jump me, Bull.” His eye was wild and hot on her, but he nodded, holding himself in check. She ordered the other two to go – ignoring Dorian's knowing look – and then turned back to him. “So babe, was it everything you hoped it would be?”

He growled, a mix of fierce and joyful and furious. Mira found herself pinned against the hide of the dragon, not far from where he'd made the killing blow. His hands were already on her, tugging at buckles and ripping toggles open on her coat. She didn't care, the fire was in her now too.

“Just let me be able to walk later, okay?” she gasped, holding his face in her hands so he was looking at her.

Bull just laughed.

Chapter Text

Mira escaped the hours-long meeting with her advisors and slipped out the gates of Haven before anyone could stop her for a 'last minute check'. The mages were here, the army was ready for whatever would come and she was rested. There was nothing more she could do right now.

Well, there was one thing. A final gather of all the supplies Haven had to offer.

She worked her way around the frozen pond, collecting elfroot and seeing which iron deposits had been mined out by Harritt's people. She stopped on a rise to see the Breach belching out arcs of green lightning that created a distant rumble. It wasn't quite thunder, but it sounded close enough to make no difference. Soon, it would be closed. Soon, they would be attacked. Soon, Haven would fall. She knew that much.

“You shouldn't be out here alone, Boss,” Bull said from behind her. She hadn't heard him approach. She blamed it just as much on not paying attention as she did on his ability to be eerily silent when he wanted to be. For a man so big, he was astonishingly light on his feet.

Boss. Usually it made her laugh, their history together being too long and convoluted for it to be anything other than a joke. Not today. Not with the full knowledge that she was going to send men and women to their deaths. Maybe even some that she knew by more than just name.

“Is it weird for you?” she asked. “Having me in charge of you?”

Bull came to a stop next to her. He was close enough that she could feel his shadow on her, could hear the wind ripple the fabric of his trousers, the tiny squeak in his ankle brace as he shifted his weight on it. But she was still looking at the Breach, and Bull was a smart man, above all else. When he spoke again, all traces of latent jocularity were gone. There was a time for trying to lift her spirits, but this wasn't one of them.

“Not weird. Just new.” One hand landed on the small of her back. The weight of it was a comfort, spanning nearly from hip to hip. “I knew I'd be handing over the reins to someone when I offered the Chargers to the Inquisition. Just because it's you doesn't change that.”

She snorted and gave him a wry look. “You didn't offer, Bull. You were hired and you're being paid to be here. More than me, I might add.”

“Well, you know we're worth it.” The smile was back in his voice and she felt some of the tension in her body bleed out. His rock solid strength never failed to make her feel like she could take on the world. “C'mon. Keep doing what you're doing, and I'll do my job as your bodyguard.”

“Is that why you followed me?”

“Better me than Cullen or the Seeker, right?”

“Okay, you're not wrong.” And he wasn't. It was likely that if either Cullen or Cassandra had seen her leave the 'safety' of the village, they would have been all over her not to expose herself to any potential danger lurking in the shadows, real or imagined. But Bull wasn't going to do that. Between his own prowess and their years of trust, they could handle anything that might be lying in wait for her.

They climbed the hill together, crossing the wide meadow that must be rather pretty when it wasn't covered in snow. Here and there elfroot poked through the crust and she gathered it all, knowing they'd need it. She was meticulous and Bull was no fool. He'd known for years what she was. Just as he'd known that she had only a broad overview with few details of events to come. Usually, he didn't ask. But she wasn't surprised that this time he did.

“What's coming, Chestnut?”

“The Elder One.”

“Got anything more specific?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. He had on his strategy face, the one that could plot troop movements like chess pieces. “He's the one who opened the Breach and killed the Divine. He's one of the Magisters that broke into the Fade like a thousand years ago, or whenever it was. That started the First Blight.”

“You're serious, aren't you?”

“Yeah. I can't remember all of it now, it was so long ago when I did this. But I remember that when we close that hole in the sky, he's gonna be pissed. He's going to come here with his army and try to take the Anchor back from me.”

“And then what.”

“Then we have to find a new home.”

Bull turned and looked back at the village from their vantage point. From here, they could see the whole of it, nestled into the little valley between mountains. For all that it was protected by the heights around them, it was also vulnerable to attack. Its walls were nothing more than wood, after all. And having a couple trebuchets wouldn't make much difference against a determined army with any access to fire.

“We've got a lot of civilians,” Bull said.

“I know.” He gave her a chiding look and she nearly threw her handful of elfroot in his face. “What do you want me to do? Tell my advisors that we need to evacuate the town because a madman is coming? They'll think I'm the crazy one. Or they'll ask how I know that. You wanna be the one to explain that I'm really from another world where all of this is a story? Really, Bull?”

“Nothing to be done, huh? Nothing at all?”

“Dammit, Bull, what would you do in this situation!?” She stomped through the snow and got as close to in his face as she could. He looked down at her, his eye impassive.

“How does it go, in the version you know?”

Mira made an aggravated noise in the back of her throat and pinched the bridge of her nose. It had been a long time since she thought about this part. Really thought about it. So much of what had happened to her since waking up with the Anchor in her hand had been familiar and yet not. It was nearly fifteen years since she'd done this on the other side of a screen. It was different being on the ground for it. Living and breathing it, day after day. And her memories of it were vague now, half forgotten and muddled together.

But Bull had taught her how to keep things organized in her mind. How to compartmentalize and look at things without her own subjective bias involved. She took a deep breath and focused on that. Peeled back the layers to hear Kathy's voice again, so distant and probably bearing no resemblance to the woman she actually knew. Solas would lead them to Skyhold; it was his. But before he could do that, they had to escape Haven during the battle. There was something, an escape route, a back way into the mountains.

She rarely relied on her limited knowledge to make a plan, not after all these years. But that didn't mean she couldn't use it, just the same.

“There's a way out of town, it's well hidden and not many know about it. From the Chantry into the mountains, I think. You think the Chargers could find it?”

“Given that starting point? Shit, yeah.”

“I know they can be discreet about finding it, but do you think they could lay supplies in the passageway while they're at it? Potions, blankets, food, that sort of thing. Anything that we can grab while running for our lives.”

“How much time do we have?”

“I don't know. It happens fast in...in fiction.” She shrugged. “I don't know what that translates to in reality.”

“But...?”

“They'll have from now until I go seal the Breach. At least.”

He smiled, the kind of cold, calculated smile he used when he'd been given a challenge. She didn't need him to say he'd have them on it as soon as he got close enough to Krem to order it. And that Krem would follow that order without question. She knew how they operated. Bull would be visible at her side the whole time, and no suspicions would be raised. And when the time came, they'd have a much better chance at surviving this mess with no one the wiser. And no one's secrets given away.

“Thank you, Bull.”

“For what?”

“Believing in me.”

He cupped her cheek in his hand, his fingers slipping against the stubble where her undercut was growing in again. His hand was so big she felt cradled in it, as if he alone could hold her safe and secure against the world. She'd always felt that way with him.

“You have big decisions ahead of you, Chestnut. Ones that will change everything and how everyone looks at you. It's a lot of pressure. I know how it works. I will always be at your back. In this, I follow your lead. When it's all over, you and I can figure out how to balance it.”

I love you, Iron Bull.

“Good. I'm counting on it,” was all she said aloud.

His grin turned crooked. “So, elfroot, eh? Sounds like we'll need a lot of it.”

“Did you just volunteer to help me pick it?” she teased.

“Uh...hmm. Kinda sounds like I did.”

She hauled on his chest strap to make him bend over enough that she could kiss him. “Don't worry, babe. If you need to go kill a druffalo all by yourself to restore your manliness, I'll just say we could probably use the extra meat too.”

“I might need a couple, then.”

“Just remember that you're carrying them.”

“Got it, Boss.”

Chapter Text

Mira let out a bark of incredulous laughter when she saw the room. Tucked between two of the ramparts and the roof of the tavern loudly under construction, the square tower had seen better days. To be fair, most of Skyhold looked the same, but honestly...the ceiling had a gaping hole in it, the bed frame looked ready to collapse – and there was an axe buried in the footboard to boot – and there was the distinct smell of old stone and disuse.

“You can't be serious,” she said to Bull, who lounged against the wall near the fireplace, the only thing that had been cleaned out enough to use. Its cheerful, flickering light was nearly drowned out by the sunbeams on the dismal gray of the walls and the ratty canvas tarpaulin covering something in the corner. She was almost afraid to ask what was under it. “There are vines growing on the walls!”

“Gives it ambiance,” Bull replied, glancing at the aforementioned growths. They were reaching for the sun through the fallen remnants of the final level of the tower, open to the sky. Once it would have been a sentry post. All the other towers had them too.

“It'll snow on you!” she sputtered. “Or rain, or whatever freaky weather we'll get here.”

“It's better than a tent,” he pointed out with a shrug. “I can stand up straight in here. And it's private.”

This last was said in a dropped octave and she mock scowled at him. “Oh no. I am not getting naked in this room until the roof is fixed.”

He grinned and pushed off the wall to fetch something on top of the tarp that she couldn't see from where she was standing. He held out his arm towards her, offering the handle of it. Intrigued, as he no doubt had planned, she crossed the room and took it. It was a hammer. He threw back the canvas and she saw a stack of fresh planks. The look he gave her now was challenging.

She hefted the hammer and eyed the hole in the ceiling. It didn't need to be perfect, she supposed. Just enough to keep the weather out. Still... “What makes you think I know anything about laying down floorboards?”

“I don't. But you know I've picked up a bit of this and that over the years. Your job is to look pretty and hand me nails while I do the laying.”

She compressed her lips at his phrasing and saw the glimmer in his eye that told her it was deliberate. “It's never a dull moment with you, babe.”

He flashed her a grin. “Hey, I gotta keep life interesting somehow.”

She shook her head bemusedly but didn't argue. Bull handed her a small tin cup of nails and then lifted several planks like they were nothing. He fed them through the hole to land with a clatter above them and dusted his hands as he made his way to a nook she hadn't noticed before. Of course, she thought. A sentry post has to have a ladder to reach it.

“Is it safe?” she asked.

“Yeah, I already tested it. The parts that are whole held my weight just fine.” He gestured to the opening. “That just rotted out. I already yanked the bad boards. This new stuff has been 'treated' according to Gatsi, so it should last.”

Bull didn't normally like ladders, they put unaccustomed strain on his bad ankle and forced him to turn out his legs in ways that nearly 7 foot tall Qunari warriors were not meant to flex. But he climbed this one with a minimum of fuss, then reached down for the hammer she was holding. He invited her to join him with a quick tilt of his head. She handed up the cup of nails too with a rueful sigh and followed him.

She was wary of putting her weight on the old boards, but they held. Once she looked out at the view, she forgot about the possibility of crashing through the floor. In one direction she could see the whole of the valley, ringed with snowy peaks that shimmered in the sun. And in the other, she could look down into the fortress and get a bird's eye view of the industry of her people as they made Skyhold livable. There were several other places where she could see workers up on scaffolding or roofs, patching things and laying fresh shingles. The wind carried faint sounds of hammering, sawing and chatter. It was good to see such high morale after what they'd been through. Sure, they were starting over, but they were doing it with a will. And in a place eminently more suited to the job.

“Nice view, eh?” Bull asked, getting down on his knees to lay the first of the fresh boards in place. He got it snug to the one he knelt on and held out his hand for nails.

“It's better than my balcony, that's for sure.”

“Yeah, but your balcony will be good for other things.”

She could read between the lines there perfectly well and resisted the urge to shove him in the butt with her boot. He was grinning, so she figured that had been his intent. She watched him hammer the nails in with a precision that was no shock to her. Bull was a meticulous man and having only one good eye didn't slow him down at all. Never had. He finished the first board and began the next. She did indeed stand there and hand him nails when he asked.

“I need one more board,” he said, after he'd used all the ones he'd tossed up there with them. “Leave the nails with me. You should be able to slip one through the gap. Besides, I can hear your teeth chattering. Get back down there where it's warm.”

This from a man wearing nothing more than striped trousers and a shoulder harness. But he wasn't wrong; she was freezing in her lightweight beige tunic. On the ground Skyhold maintained a constant temperature that was rather more balmy than one expected in the mountains. On the battlements, however, the wind was fiercely cold. She went back down the ladder and wrestled a plank upright to feed it through the space that remained. Now that the hole was mostly patched, it was gloomy in the tower. He'd need some lamps.

She felt him grab the end of the board and let it go so he could pull it the rest of the way. Once he got it in place, the room went even darker. There were windows, but they were covered with scraps of cloth. Getting real curtains in here would need to be a priority at some point. Although she knew Bull didn't mind the dark. It was easier on his bad eye. She listened to the rhythmic pounding of the hammer and went to where the vines clung to the stones of the exterior walls. Reaching as high as she could, she tugged on them, loosening bits of old mortar and grit, but eventually they came free.

She was so focused on getting them down that she hadn't heard him come back. The flat of his palm smacking her backside made her jump. He huffed through his nose at her, amused as always. He reached over her head effortlessly and yanked on the tendrils that clung up near the newly repaired ceiling.

“I kinda liked'em, ya know.”

“Bull, they were going to erode the walls further. And now without sunlight, they would just have died and made a mess,” she said, turning around to face him. She tossed the vines away and brushed off her hands. “If you really want some greenery in here, I'll get you a plant to put in the window.”

“Something that flowers would be nice.”

“Noted,” she grinned. This close to him, she could smell the fresh air mixed with his sweat and the tang of the treated wood. She inhaled deeply, savoring the combination. He caught her at it and smirked.

“That mean we're done working, Chestnut?”

He stepped away from her and washed his hands in a basin. When he came back, the clean scent of soap had been added and it was all she could do not to throw herself at him. He lowered his head in a way that made her think he'd read her mind. Or at least her body language. Still smirking, he unclipped and shrugged off his harness. His tattoo was a deeper shadow in the gloom. She glanced past him to the axe in the footboard of the bed.

“That thing is a disgrace. I'd be afraid to get in it.”

“Don't need it.” He hefted her up and braced her against the stones. It was chilly against her back, but the heat of him against her front allowed her to ignore it. “You know how long it's been since I had you up against a wall?”

She did, in fact. Three years. One night in a dingy, dockside inn in Val Royeaux, where neither of them trusted that the bed wasn't crawling with all kinds of vermin. He'd taken her the second time on the floor. She wasn't sure she wanted to remind him of that. Her knees weren't what they used to be.

“Is that the plan then?” she asked instead, running her fingers over the black ink that decorated his shoulder. “Probably should have taken my pants off first.”

His leer was both knowing and filthy. With her legs around him and his hips holding her to the wall, his hands were free to unbutton her tunic until he could reach the laces of the matching trousers. She scoffed lightly at him and swatted his hands away.

“I'll do it, you hold me up.”

He raised his eyebrow at her even as one arm slid up to the small of her back to keep her in place. “Not even gonna fight me, huh?”

“Were you looking for me to?” She got the laces undone and wiggled the waistband down over the curve of her ass, taking her smalls with it. The material bunched at the backs of her thighs, but that's all they needed free anyhow. Bull knew just how much he could contort her to get what he wanted, and she trusted him not to let her fall. It would be a tight fit, but it always was.

“Nah,” he murmured in answer to her retort. He shifted her about, balancing her in one hand while the other dug into his pocket. She knew then that he'd planned this, the whole thing. She couldn't bring herself to be in any way upset about it. They got so little time together now. “They'll be hounding you soon. Here.” He handed her a small glass bottle. “Pop this open for me.”

“Is this the Antivan one, that warms up with friction?”

“Yep.”

She beamed at him, half teasing, half anticipatory. “Ooh, what's the occasion?”

“Surviving,” he growled, leaning in to nip her bottom lip between his teeth. It wasn't really a kiss, but the angle of their bodies was such that if he pressed any closer, she wouldn't be able to breathe. She didn't need him to explain further than that, either. They'd made it this far. She most of all. She honestly should have expected he'd have something up his proverbial sleeve with which to celebrate that.

“I can't reach you though,” she said.

“It's not for me, Chestnut.” He laid his hand between them, palm up. She dribbled the warming oil across his palm and down the length of his fingers. Without breaking eye contact, he moved his hand without spilling a drop, and then she felt him cup her sex. His middle finger slid inside her, slippery and naturally warm already. She clenched on him involuntarily.

“Bull...”

There was the rustle of fabric and his hips jostled into hers. His arm flexed against her side and she knew he was stroking the oil onto himself. She bit her lip and he smiled. “What do you think, will it get too hot or will you come first?”

His cock filled her, smooth and easy from the oil. It set off a low tingling burn, just enough to stimulate. She couldn't catch her breath, and she couldn't really move in her position. She couldn't even grab a hold of his horns from here. All she could reach was the back of his neck. She held on for dear life as he pumped into her, not too fast. Not yet. Her body was still stretching around him. He growled deep in his chest.

“You're so tight, Chestnut.”

“You have me folded in half, babe.”

He chuckled and his arms slid under her knees. He leaned back a little, not enough that she lost contact with the wall, but enough that her torso could stretch out. His hands were firm on her backside, supporting her easily. He pulled out of her, slow, oh so slow. She breathed in deep, knowing what would happen next. He paused, nearly completely withdrawn, letting the anticipation build until she was writhing. Then he plunged into her, hard and deep.

She cried out, both at the heat and the fullness, her voice echoing off the bare stone walls. Bull chuckled again. She'd added her own slick to the oil and his cock pulled back with a sloppy sound, just audible over the sound of hammering not twenty feet away. This time when he thrust back into her, the heat grew, driving her mindlessly closer to the edge. Air escaped her in a loud gasp.

“The workers are gonna hear you if you keep that up.”

“Don't care,” she whimpered. “Bull...”

“I got you.”

He set up a steady pace, rocking into her without really pounding. He hummed as she dug her nails into his neck. The heat spread, making her burn, drawing her tighter on him. Each stroke brought her closer, but it wasn't enough. She tried tilting her hips, arching her back more and changing the angle and depth he could reach. It was his turn to groan as she clenched on him. She raised a teasing eyebrow.

“Which one of us will roar, do you think?” she asked, panting out each word as he lost the easy rhythm he'd held to and fucked her with abandon. The coil of release was tightening at the base of her spine. She was so close.

“Both of us, if we do it right,” he said, squeezing her ass in his hands and driving so deep she banged her head against the wall from the jolt of it. He held her there, grinding, the angle finally hitting her just right. Her legs ached from how taut she held them, even in his steady grasp, trapped in her own clothes. She wanted to fall, wanted to feel how alive he could make her. She needed it like she needed to breathe.

“Please...” she whispered.

The tension snapped and powerful waves of orgasm rippled out from her center. Her cries were harsh, filling the room, drowned out by his rumble as he followed her. She could feel it vibrating through him as much as she could hear it. Aftershocks made her jerk in his arms, and the oil tingled deep into her nerve endings, prolonging each spasm. Bull stood up straighter, pressing her against the wall fully so he could tip his head to hers and kiss her. It was a wild, untamed thing of teeth and tongue and mingled breath. She hadn't let go of him, and he hadn't let go of her. It was a long time before they came back to themselves and Mira realized just how uncomfortable the position had gotten.

“Let me down, babe.” He released her legs, but held on to her hips, keeping her from toppling while her pants fell haphazardly to her knees. She made a face at the mess, but it couldn't be helped. Nothing in this room was clean enough to use. “You realize I need a bath now. And a change of clothes. I have a meeting with Josie and some noble tonight.”

He laughed, finally letting her go to right himself. “You gonna make it back up to your high tower, Inquisitor?”

“Did you do this on purpose, Iron Bull?”

His grin was cheeky and he leaned down to kiss her again. “Yep.”

“Ugh.” She wasn't truly mad. She could never stay mad at him, even when he probably deserved it. Still, she swatted his chest. He laughed outright and spun her towards the door. The door they'd never even locked.

“Go on, Chestnut. Before they come looking.”

Chapter Text

Mira had all her gear packed and loaded onto the mounts. But she had one last stop to make before she and her party left Skyhold. She climbed the stairs up to the corner battlement tower that hugged the Herald's Rest and let herself in without even knocking. Bull gave her a mock glare from under his brows and went back to buckling his belt.

“Let me see it,” she said, relying on a decade's worth of her position as his healer to still work for getting him to do what she wanted. He was free of the Qun, but that didn't mean he saw that as positive just yet. He needed some things to remain the same, including her 'tama voice'.

Sure enough, he sighed, then pulled the buckle back apart. The belt sagged and the waistband of his trousers did too, exposing the slope of one hipbone. Deliberate, she thought. Trying to distract her. But she wasn't playing that game with him today. She lifted her chin, staring him down, and he moved his hand away from the wound she'd dressed herself not three days ago.

She brushed her fingers over the scar, testing the relative heat of it compared to the rest of his skin with the backs of them. “Any lingering effects from the saar-qamek?”

“Nope,” he replied, popping the end of the word with more cheer than she believed for a second. “I told you, I was dosing myself...”

“With antidote, yeah, I remember. Anything else I should note?”

“You keep running those little hands all over me like that, I'm gonna bend you over that chair.”

The underlying growl made her shiver, and she was sure he saw it, but she just sniffed briskly and took her hands away. “We don't have time.” She ignored his teasing smirk that begged to disagree. “But I suppose if you're contemplating fucking me senseless, you can sit a horse for a few hours.”

“So, do I pass muster, Boss?”

Mira laced her fingers around the strap that held on his harness and yanked him down to her level. He let her. “You pull a stunt like that again and don't tell me what's going on and I'll kick your ass from here to the Waking Sea. I'll even let Krem and the boys bet on it the whole way. You got it?”

He grinned, lopsided and happy. He cupped her face in his hands, nearly covering her from jaw to temple, then kissed her. The first one was sweet, but the second had teeth. When he let her go, she was breathless and he was back in control. “Got it...Boss.”

---

“'Tama, how will I follow the Qun?'”

Mira heard Cole speak but didn't at first know what he meant. It wasn't until Bull stopped short, and Dorian nearly plowed into his back with a muttering of Tevene curses, that it registered.

“Her hands, strong but gentle, ruffle stubs where horns will be. 'You are strong, and your mind is sharp. You will solve problems others cannot.' She smiles, but sadly.”

A gruff sound rumbled out of Bull and she turned to face him, to see the look on his face. He wasn't looking at her, but at Cole, a frown crumpling his brow. “Looks like my old tamassran was wrong. Bet she's pissed one of her kids went Tal-Vashoth.”

“Agents with hushed tones. Eyes stinging, forms to fill out, course corrections, reduce risk of similar losses. 'I remember the little boy, too wise, eager to help'. Words break in small secret places. 'He got away. He got away.'”

The tone of it, the sorrow and relief and joy behind those words hit Mira like a landslide. She shoved a knuckle between her teeth to stifle the sound that clung to the back of her throat. Tears stung her eyes. She hadn't known Cole would read this particular pain; she'd never gotten this far the single time she'd played. And for it to be so soon after that day, when she'd commanded Bull for just one moment in order to save their boys...

“How can you know that?” Bull snapped, a sudden surge of pained anger coming off him in an almost tangible wave. He wasn't fond of Cole's ability, this was no secret. “You've never even met her.”

“Your hurt touches hers.”

All the fight dropped out of Bull. Mira whirled away from them before he could say anything else, blindly pushing off the path into the underbrush, unable to hide her tears any longer. She choked and gasped into her hands, desperate to keep the noise of it from passing beyond where she hid. He'd find her, of that she had no doubt. But for a moment, she had to unleash it before it made her scream.

How could she be so happy for his freedom when he was so devastated by it?

Twigs and plant stems crunched under a pair of large boots, the tread deliberately heavy so there was no way for her to miss it. She peeked through her fingers to see Bull standing there, staring off into nowhere, his hands limply at his sides. He didn't reach for her, nor she for him. Instead, she got her tears under control and wiped her face. She probably was a total mess.

“You knew the choice would come. But you didn't know this would,” he said after a while. She nodded. He sighed, a deep long release of air that said more than words ever could. “I didn't know you felt this strongly about it.”

“Are you kidding me?!” she nearly shouted at him. “Why wouldn't I? Palem'banal, this is your whole life we're talking about.”

He finally swiveled his head to look at her, his expression bland. “You never gave me a hint of how you felt about the Qun. You hid it, all these years. I taught you better than I thought.”

Mira laughed once, cutting it off when she felt fresh tears welling up and her body trying to convulse back into sobbing. “I guess you did.”

They stared at each other for a stretch that felt infinite. The world could have crashed around them and neither would have noticed. At last he lifted one hand and brushed her cheek. It was still wet, tears must have fallen that she didn't feel. “I don't know where to go from here, Mira.”

“I know.”

“I've never...I can't...”

“I love you, you fool Qunari. And I've never been able to say the words to you before. You were never free to hear them. Here.” She pounded her fist against his heart. “But now I can. I love you, Iron Bull. With every fiber of my being. I have for a long time.” She pounded her fist on him once more for good measure, then wiped her face again. “Next you'll tell me that you already knew that, and turn the whole thing into a joke like you always do.”

But he just stood there, looking stunned. Poleaxed, she thought idly. She blinked at him, crossing her arms for the lack of anything better to do with them. Which meant they were trapped between them when he hauled her into his arms. She didn't even manage a proper 'oof' before he was kissing her. She wrestled them free and wrapped them as far around his neck as she could reach while on the ground, never breaking the kiss. They were stumbling, her feet tangled with his, and then her back was against a tree. His tongue was hot on hers, his stubble scraping her face as he tilted her just so. He hummed a rumbling sound into her and she dug her nails into his skin.

When he broke away, she could only cling to him, panting, her whole body awash with conflicting signals. Anger, worry, happiness, love. All mixed together in a stew of emotion. But his hands held her steady, his breath measured her own.

“Say it again,” he growled.

“I love you, Bull.”

He let the words sink into him, as if he could actually feel them take up space in his mind. Then he smirked at her. “When we get to camp, I am definitely bending you over something, kadan.”

She snorted, she couldn't help it. “Oh, so I'm 'kadan' already? You haven't even told me about dragon's teeth yet.”

“But you don't need me to, do you?” he said, grinning down at her.

“Dammit, it's no fun when you're already ahead of me.”

“Payback for all the things you've known that I didn't.” He kissed her again, softer this time, leisurely. “You meant the words. You waited to say them. You knew. Kadan.”

“Are you two finished?” Dorian called out. “It's getting rather awkward being stuck here with a spirit who can't stop smiling.”

“C'mon, kadan,” Bull said, putting her back on her feet and heading out of the underbrush. “Let's go make the Vint sputter like a cracked cookstone.”

“You're on.”

Chapter Text

Mira looked up as Bull finished climbing the stairs to the chamber and watched his face transform as he took her in. His expression brightened with a soft smile that tugged on her heartstrings more than she cared to admit. It was more than just his happiness at seeing her. There was something beneath it, something wistful and melancholy that they hadn't talked about for years. It appeared and was gone in a flash, but she'd been looking for it. She did her best to keep this particular craving hidden from his Ben-Hassrath mind reading. Which was a difficult prospect, given how sharp he was, even now. Still, it was somewhat relieving to know it remained lurking in the back of his mind too.

“You were at the mage tower today,” he said, just proving her point.

Nearly smiling at how she'd called it, she replied, “How can you tell?”

“Only place around here with kids who'll put a charm on a flower crown to make it last.”

Mira touched the crown of little nameless flowers that grew all over the place, even here in Skyhold. Pink and yellow and white, the crown sat crookedly on her head since half of it was growing in from where she'd always had it shaved. “I made the crowns, and the apprentices took turns enchanting them. Vivienne said it was a good lesson for them, to learn control while casting on something delicate.”

Bull leaned on the breakwall of the stairs and crossed his arms over his chest, the picture of nonchalance, although Mira wasn't entirely buying it. For all that Dalish was allowed to use her magic when they were on a job, and the Inquisition was full of mages now encouraged to practice their craft, he was still leery of the arcane. But he was trying, more now that the Qun's ingrained prejudices were mostly behind him.

“And no one gets hurt when it goes wrong either,” he said eventually and a bit wryly. “Clever.”

“That's what I thought.”

“Did you have fun?” Did you get your fix, she heard in the subtext. She nodded, unwilling to lie to him out loud. He most likely knew anyway. He just had the grace not to point it out.

It had been years, but there was still a tiny scar on both their hearts for what might have been. A half-Qunari imekari, who would never have been a number, who would never have known the childhood she and Bull each had. But she'd lost it practically before she'd even known it was there. They'd been more careful with contraceptive tea ever since. The desire to have a family had never gone away, but the practicalities had also never stopped being an issue. Their lives were chaotic, no place for a child. And by the time this would all be over, she'd be almost too old.

Bull sat next to her on the bed where books and papers lay strewn around her. He tilted his head back and forth, looking at the crown from all angles. One finger brushed against the petals, enhanced by the little spell to stay firm and fresh for at least a full day.

“It's pretty, Chestnut.”

“Thank you.”

He traced over the flowers again, then wrapped his hand around the back of her neck to bring their foreheads together. She rested there, pressed to him in wordless understanding. The scent of the wildflowers was sweet between them and she fought back the urge to weep. After a long moment he released her and kissed her brow gently.

“Someday, kadan,” he whispered. “Someday.”

“We're running out of somedays.”

“We'll manage. We always do.”

She wanted to laugh, but the sob she kept swallowing had her throat blocked. He knew. He always did. He kissed her brow again for good measure, then leaned back and made himself comfortable among her research things.

“What's all this then?” He glanced at her desk, then back to the bed, seeming to figure out why she had laid out everything here instead of there. It was, admittedly, a lot of books and scrolls. But she hadn't wanted to rearrange everything on her desk to make room for it.

“I'm trying to find out all I can about the Arbor Wilds before we head there. I never did that part. I don't know what to expect. I just know that we'll be going at some point.”

“From what I know of it, it's hot, humid and full of weird ass magic. It would be a nice place without that. Kinda like home. We got close once, you remember?”

What Mira remembered of that trip was an Orlesian nobleman's ridiculous contract to hunt down a great bear in late fall, one of their party dying and a snowstorm. But she also remembered that that was when things changed between them, the first time their dance around each other had finally made them collide. In the best way. Funny to think how long she'd loved him and never said anything, even to herself.

She looked over her shoulder at him where he lounged against the pillows. The light from the lanterns caught his eye, making it gleam. Giving in to his subject change – as well as his attempt to lighten the mood – she pushed away the memories and smiled at him. “Do you miss Par Vollen?”

“Eh, a bit. I miss the weather and hearing my own language, but...”

“But not really the rest of it?”

“Yeah.”

“I know how that goes. Even now I miss things like electricity and grocery stores. But I don't miss the bureaucracy.” She snorted. “I don't know if I even remember much of my native language now. I haven't spoken it in so long.”

“Maybe when all this shit settles down, you can see how much you remember.” Again, she heard the subtext. Maybe there will be someone to teach it to.

“Maybe.” She made an effort to bury the pang that gave her and smiled at him again. “C'mon, help me organize this.”

He looked at her for a long time, then seemed to sense her need to keep herself busy. He stretched himself sideways on the bed, letting her lean against his chest – and giving himself an excuse to put his arm around her while reaching for the mess of research – and began looking over the scrolls where they were spilled haphazardly all over the blankets.

“Sure, kadan.”

Chapter Text

There were times when they didn't have the energy or inclination to draw out their lovemaking at their leisure. The pleasure was a bright burst, reaching completion barely before it began. Mira thought about Bull once telling her how the tamassrans could have one in and out in five minutes. Thank you, see you next week. She smiled as she lounged against his side, the pull of sleep calling to her as her limbs went boneless in the aftermath. Bull's arm around her was loose, more the habitual drape to keep her close than any deliberate attempt to soothe or entice. Outside the balcony doors, she could just barely hear the noise of Skyhold as the day went on without them. She and Bull dozed off together, the custom ordered bed cradling them with its deep mattress, soft sheets and, most importantly, extra length.

For a while, nothing lodged in her mind. No reports, no worries about whatever move they would have to make next. No interruptions. Just skin on skin, the cool caress of the breeze through the open balcony doors, the quiet rhythm of Bull's breath. Mira didn't know – and didn't care either – how long they napped there. It was peaceful and slow, time ticking by unmeasured as she lay down all her cares and concerns for a while. She lay in a half drowsy state, curled against Bull, her leg thrown over one of his, his hand spanning her hip to keep her tucked against him. The thought of getting up and going back to their routine lives held no appeal in the face of such lazy comfort.

The knock below shattered the silence and she groaned into Bull's skin. He huffed, making no move to get up or let her go. The knock came again, the impacts against the door making her think it was Cullen. Mira sighed. If the Commander was seeking her in her own room, it must be important, and she should get up to see what he wanted.

“The Ambassador is with him,” Bull said presently, still sounding half asleep.

“How can you tell?”

“I can hear them talking.”

Mira lifted her head from the hollow of Bull's shoulder, what little hollow there was, and glared at him. One side of his mouth curled in a smirk without him even looking at her. One would think, after so many years together, that she'd be used to his heightened senses and highly trained awareness. But he still had the ability to surprise her now and again.

“They're just gonna keep banging on the door if I don't answer it, huh.”

Bull shrugged, a rather seismic event with her so close to him. Still, it made her smile and leave off her grumbling. The knocking continued. It wasn't the kind of sharp, staccato rapping that meant 'urgent, come now', but they were definitely not going away. She rolled out of his warmth and stumbled to her feet. She was halfway to the stairs before she remembered that she was completely naked.

Their clothes were scattered all over and it would take too long to find pants and a shirt – with the buttons still attached – so she just grabbed Bull's trousers. She hiked them up high enough to cover her chest, which also served to keep her feet from tripping in the voluminous material. If her advisors wanted to bother her while she was trying to get some downtime, then on their heads be the consequences. They knew she had Bull with her. She marched down the stairs to the stout wooden door separating her chamber from the rest of the fortress and flipped the lock. Then she yanked the door open.

“What,” she barked flatly.

“Sorry to disturb your rest, Inquisitor,” Cullen started, still looking at the notepad in his hand. At his side, Josephine had come to a complete startled stop, her warm brown skin going slightly darker as she flushed. “Our fortifi...oh sweet Maker!”

Mira raised an eyebrow at her Commander as he finally looked at her. Bull's pants weren't quite long enough on her to truly keep her modest and she held them up with her hand flattened over her cleavage to keep from exposing herself to him. His eyes seemed glued on a point near her collarbone and she remembered belatedly the mark Bull had put there. She hadn't looked at it, but she knew him. It must be quite...vivid. Josephine's gaze had traveled away from her, up the stairs. Cullen's did the same after a moment, his cheeks burning bright red as he took in the sight behind her. Mira glanced over her shoulder and nearly dropped the pants.

“Ambassador, Cullen, how's it goin'?” Gloriously nude and shameless about it, his arms crossed over his chest and his legs planted in a sort of parade rest, thereby showing off the entirety of his assets, Bull stared down the stairs at the pair of advisors.

“Can I help you two with something?” Mira asked, turning back to them and making no attempt to shield their view. Cullen ducked behind his hand, as if blocking it out would make this less awkward for him than it already was.

“I...I'm so sorry,” he stammered.

“I cannot move my legs,” Josephine murmured, apparently unaware that she spoke aloud. She continued to stare up the stairs, bless her.

“Impressive, isn't he?” Mira said. Cullen snorted and Josephine finally pulled her gaze away from Bull.

“Forgive me, Inquisitor,” she said. “I hadn't thought...well.”

Cullen cleared his throat, still hidden behind his hands and the notepad. “Nothing wrong with a bit of fun.”

“Correct,” Mira said. “And now if there's nothing pressing, I'd like to get back to my fun. Is that a problem?”

“No,” Cullen said, too quickly.

“Not at all,” Josephine said, her gaze creeping back over Mira's shoulder.

She hadn't heard him come down the stairs, but she felt the heat of him at her back just before his fingers landed between her shoulder blades. They traced the tattoo there, an intimate gesture not lost on the two advisors. Bull had every right to be here, in her space, touching her. The Inner Circle had known, as long as the Bull's Chargers had been with the Inquisition, that they were together.

Leaning against the wall at the other end of the stairwell, Mira saw Leliana. The Spymaster was fighting back a smile, and Mira wondered if she'd followed the other two up here for the express purpose of seeing how it played out. Mira could well imagine the conversation that had happened in the War Room that led to them coming up here. She wouldn't have encouraged them, necessarily, but she obviously hadn't stopped them either.

Mira sent Leliana a grin, then firmly closed the door on them all. She turned and buried herself into Bull's gut so her peals of laughter were muffled. “Did you see their faces? I think poor Cullen went blind for a second there.”

Bull snorted, then scooped her up into his arms. The pants dropped off her to puddle at her ankles and she kicked them free. They didn't stop to pick them up as he carried her back up to the chamber. “Josephine looked curious.”

“Don't make me think impure thoughts about her, babe. I don't need that in my head at the next meeting.”

Bull flopped back onto the bed, still holding her so she was now sprawled across his chest. “No worse than what they're gonna be thinking about you and me.”

“Fair, I guess.” She snuggled against him, feeling his fingers slip into her hair. “Now, where were we?”

Chapter Text

Bull,

I don't know why I let you talk me into this. I feel silly, writing you a letter. It's not like we haven't gone stretches of time apart without communicating before.

At any rate, things are progressing here in the Emprise. I wish you were here. The nights are freezing!

Love you,

Mira

---

Chestnut,

The point is that you miss me when I'm not there, and that's why I want you to write to me. Keep me fresh in your mind. Besides, we need to give Red's scouts something to do now that we don't have so many places to spy on anymore. And while we're on the subject, I hear there are dragons there in the Emprise. Don't kill them til I get there, all right?

Bull

---

Okay, I'll admit it, I laughed when I got your letter. Don't make more work for the Nightingale's people, it's rude.

We've cleared the mines here. I'm exhausted and several levels of grossed out, and you know how much work it takes for me to be disgusted with something. On a brighter note, what prisoners we found, I was able to treat. At least for their exposure and frostbite. The lyrium though...that's gonna be a process.

I hope your job is going better than mine. Sounded cushier to begin with anyway. I can't wait for you to get here. I hate sleeping alone.

Mira

---

Kadan,

Just think about what I'm going to do to you when I see you. Things your body wouldn't believe. Still need to break that threshold you've got going on.

Eh, the job is fine. This noble is a prick, but aren't they all? The sooner we wrap this up, the sooner we'll be back. You wouldn't like it here. You and Skinner would be giving me more trouble than I can handle making this asshole's life worse instead of watching over his dimwitted daughter before she gets herself hitched.

Bull

---

I have no idea what you mean by me and Skinner getting into trouble together. We would never! (I hope you can see my grin)

We spotted the dragons. There are three of them, babe. Three. In my heart, I want to leave them be. They're just trying to live. But having three fully grown dragons so close to each other will make a mess, so I suppose we should do something about them. Plus, if the Emprise ever wants to recover from all this, the Orlesians will need those lands back. Ah well. I guess that's your cue, eh? Time to wrap up babysitting and get your ass down here to help me.

I miss you, Bull. I miss having you next to me, a wall against everything. I miss having your counsel in my ear, your hand on my back. And fine, yes, because I know you're waiting for it. I miss other things too that I'm not going to put in a letter that will be scanned by the Nightingale's people before you get it. (Honestly, I don't know what she expects me to send to you that can't be trusted.)

Anyway, I need to run. Things are never quiet here long enough for me to actually sit down for more than a few minutes. Love you.

Mira

---

[Translated from Qunlat]

My heart,

I am not a poet. You should have poetry. But I will tell you, when I see you I will keep you close for longer than it takes for the sky to change from dark to light. I will swallow your cries until they are hoarse and hollow. I will touch you until you are a river of slick. And then, only then, I will take you. No weapon has been forged that is more important to me than you. And none shall ever come between us. I will see you soon.

---

Bull,

What do you mean you aren't a poet? That was gorgeous. Please hurry. I am so very empty without you. In all ways.

Mira

---

“Riders coming!” the scouts relayed between them. Mira left her command tent and watched their approach through the path winding through the spires of red lyrium they hadn't yet figured out how to topple safely. The Chargers spread out as they arrived, and she lost sight of Bull for a moment as he dismounted at the far end of camp where there was room. Her stomach flipped and filled with butterflies, even now, even after so long together. The thrill of reunion never failed her.

But she was composed and calm when he greeted her, Solas and Dorian. His manner was crisp and professional as he spoke with Blackwall, catching up on what he'd missed. There was a twinkle in his eye as he handed her a sealed note, however. She gave him a querying look and he grinned.

“For later,” he said, then got back to work. Mira tucked the note in her pocket and bent to pack her things for the upcoming assault.

Later, much later, when they were lounging together on a bed that had miraculously escaped destruction from the Red Templar occupation of Suledin Keep, he reminded her of it. She managed to snag her jacket and pulled the note out. She cracked the wax seal and read the contents.

“Bull, this is just a list of sex positions.”

He smirked at her, laying back against the headboard. “Yeah, figured we could use it like a checklist.”

Mira laughed and draped herself across his chest. “You're ridiculous, babe.”

“Hey, I prefer 'efficient'.”

“Fine, you're efficient too.” She looked over the list again. “Where do you want to start?”

He reached for her, drawing her close with a hand cupped around the back of her head. The kiss was soft and slow, giving only the barest hint of what was to come. “Right here.”

Chapter Text

The masquerade swirled around her in a kaleidoscope of pastel colors and fanciful masks, marked only occasionally by the dark formal uniforms she and her Inner Circle were wearing. She wasn't sure if she would constitute this night as a date, but it was certainly a different way to spend the evening than she was used to. Although, fighting demons, Venatori and the wiles of gossiping Orlesians was rather par for the course, if she was going to be honest.

“How you doing, Chestnut?” Bull asked her when she stopped by him at the buffet table. They stood nearly side by side, each facing a different direction. It hadn't stopped the whispers, but she figured she was spreading them around evenly, considering she spoke to each one of her companions the same way.

“Tell me I'll get through this,” she pleaded.

“You'll get through it. You've got a spine of pure steel and you fight demons for a living. Orlesians are nothing but yapping behind masks compared to that.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. There wasn't much else to say, but she felt better in his presence. And few people were willing to approach her while he glowered out at all and sundry. The uniform that felt so lumpy and ill-fitting on her was fantastic on him. “I should dress you up more often, Bull. You look good like this.”

“Collar's a little tight.” He chuckled and did a sweep of the room. “I'll tell you what though, I hope you have something that needs killing soon. These nobles keep messing with me, and they think I don't know they're doing it. This keeps up, I'm going to wear somebody's skull as my fancy little mask.”

Mira snorted under her breath, keeping the laughter contained even though she felt it suffuse through her. As he probably intended. “We could really give them something to talk about.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She placed her palm on the center line of his jacket, right over one of the buttons straining to keep him decent. With his arms crossed, her hand was fairly low on his torso. It was intimate with just one touch. He didn't look at her, but he smiled. Around them the whispers took on a new ferocity.

“Nice one, kadan.”

“What do you think about dancing with me later?”

“Oh shit, the nobles would love that! Can you imagine the look on Josephine's face, trying to explain that we were...wait, were you serious? Because if so, then yeah, absolutely. Once we stop the assassins and all that.”

“It'll be one way to end the evening with a bang.”

He turned towards her slightly, and she realized she still had her hand on his chest. Her fingers slipped and he captured them before she drew away. Distantly, she heard gasps. There were even more as he raised her hand to his lips and held it there. He wasn't really kissing it, just keeping her knuckles brushed against his mouth. His eye landed on her, shadowed in this corner and glimmering with the sort of intent that they usually prepared the watchword for.

“If it's a bang you're after...”

Mira felt something settle inside her. She stood a little taller, her spine going straighter. She felt his lips curl against her fingers as he smiled in approval. Spoken reassurance was all well and good, but nothing compared to the feeling of Bull making her feel like she could do anything, withstand anything. In all their years, he'd never crossed the line to her needing him to stop, and she wasn't going to start now.

“There's my kadan,” he murmured. “Go kick some ass.”

She withdrew her hand slowly, giving herself enough time to run her thumb along his bottom lip. “Talk to you later, Bull.”

“You know where to find me. I'll just stand here and eat.”

“Hmm, save some for me.”

“No promises.”

---

She dropped face first into the massive bed in the suite she'd been offered once the night was over. Vaguely she could hear the murmur of voices and clanking of dishes and Bull directing the servants, but none of them came near enough for her to feel the need to lift her face from the downy blanket under her nose.

There was a final voice at the door, and she nearly pushed herself upright until she heard Bull once more.

“No, let her rest.” Another low imprecation. “Goodnight, Red.”

And then the door was closed, the lock clicked into place and silence reigned. For a minute, anyway.

“C'mon, Chestnut, roll over.”

She groaned, but she managed it, flopping onto her back. She'd thought she'd have to squint against the brightness of all the lamps, but Bull had lowered them save the one nearest the door. “Have I told you that I love you lately?”

“You've mentioned it,” he retorted lightly. “Let me get at your boots.”

For a man so large, who wielded a two handed weapon with abandon, he had surprisingly nimble fingers. Her boots were off before she knew it, and then his hands went to work on her sash, belt and buttons. He undressed her like a child, lifting her arms and body up to pull layers away until she was bare. It would have been hilarious if she wasn't so tired.

“Open up,” he said, his shadow looming over her. She cracked one eye open to glance at him and saw he was holding a piece of cheese near her mouth. She took it, chewing slowly as he moved about the room, doing his own undressing. He'd already popped the collar of his uniform jacket and shirt. Next was his own sash and belt. He sank into a chair – thankfully large enough for him, she had no idea where the staff had found it – and kicked the tall boots off, stretching his feet and rolling his bad ankle in relief. “Can you stand more?”

“More what?”

“Food,” he drawled.

“Mm, maybe.”

“You barely ate tonight. Too busy saving Orlais from itself.”

“Did you save me any of those spicy nut things you liked so much?”

“A couple perhaps.”

She smiled up at the ceiling, then turned her head towards him as he came back to the bed with a plate. “Is this part of your whole 'give you what you need' detail?”

“Yes,” he said very seriously, feeding her another tidbit of something. It was a pastry shell, warm and buttery. Inside it held just a bite of sausage, heavily seasoned. It was tasty and she felt like she could probably devour a hundred of them.

“That was good, I'll have another one of those.”

“First this.” It was a grape, firm under her teeth and tart enough to make her mouth water. “Sit up a bit. You shouldn't be eating laying flat like that.”

“Yes, dear.” He raised his eyebrow at her and waited until she shuffled back against the pillows, wedging herself at least partially upright. “Happy now?”

Instead of answering, he offered her a wineglass, half full of the sweet white that had been circulating all night that she didn't dare drink while trying to keep her wits about her. She sipped it carefully and handed it back to him so he could set it on the nightstand. At some point in this whole thing, he'd gotten as naked as her.

“Bull, as much as I appreciate the display of skin, I'm not sure I'm up for...”

He held up his hand. “Your job right now is to lay there and look pretty.”

“And eat what you give me?”

“Yeah, that too.” He fed her another one of the little sausage pastries. As exhausted as she was, the food was rejuvenating her. And Bull's undivided attention was always worth staying awake for. He put the plate within reach of her hand and sat back to draw one of her legs into his lap. His big hands were warm and, even at the awkward angle, he had enough strength in them to work his fingers deeply into her sore muscles. She groaned and burrowed further into the pillows. He worked out the tension from thigh to ankle, then lifted her leg until she could feel the stretch in her hamstring.

“Ooh,” she breathed out around another bite. “That's good.”

“Me or the food?” he asked with a smirk.

“Yes. What about you though?”

“I had enough while the ball was going on. Cleared the buffet right out of that cheese dip stuff. I asked them if they had more and they just gave me this...look.”

She giggled, then tried to jerk her foot out of his hand when he nipped her ankle. “What, so now you're going to make me the buffet?”

“Hmm, there's a thought.”

“Iron Bull, I see that look in your eye.”

He chuckled and moved to put her other leg into his lap, leaving the first one draped over his thigh and her spread wide. Heat began to pool at the base of her spine. She found the pile of spiced nuts and crunched one between her teeth. He was right, it started out sweet, but grew hot as she chewed it. It was like some kind of dry roasted filbert dipped in chili powder with the merest dusting of sugar to temper it. It was all right, but not something she'd go crazy over like he had.

He stretched her other leg out once he'd worked all the aches from the muscles, and he nipped that ankle too, making her jump. She just rolled her head at him, watching the way he looked up the expanse of her laying there, spread-eagled and full of tidbits and canapes. With just a slight push, she hooked her foot over his shoulder. She deliberately laid one of the spicy nuts on her breastbone, her gaze on his. He grinned, never slow on the uptake.

He leaned over her, her leg still propped on his shoulder, until he could reach the filbert. He stayed there as he ate it, contorting her in half, but comfortably enough that she could still breathe. “What else you got, kadan?”

She pushed him up just enough that she could lay the next one near her navel. Bull's grin was sly now and he shifted backwards to bend his head over her abdomen. This time he sucked her skin between his lips, leaving a mark behind when he pulled away. He sat up, regarding her expectantly. Still maintaining eye contact, she reached down and tucked a filbert in the crease of her leg, where the angle he held it would keep it there.

He gripped the back of her knee with one hand, holding her poised, then lowered his head. But then he stopped, mere inches away from her heat. He looked up at her, his eye dark in the dim lamplight, but gleaming nonetheless.

“You sure you want me to do that? After all that spice?”

She jerked in his grip, instinctually trying to get away. “Shit, you're right.”

“How 'bout this,” he offered, sinking his thumb inside her with his free hand.

She writhed, slipping down the pillows as she tried to bury him deeper. He chuckled, hooking his thumb and curling his index finger against her clit. Then he turned his head and went after the filbert. His horn brushed against her stomach, the roughness of the keratin a stark contrast to the rush of pleasure at her center. His tongue pressed into the crease of her thigh, finding the nut. His teeth latched onto her and she cried out and arched, driving his thumb deeper, his finger harder against her clit and his teeth more into her skin.

The trio of sensations was overwhelming and she flailed and kicked, making it both better and worse for herself. He didn't release her from his teeth until she was nearly hanging off the bed entirely, the plate flung aside and the pillows scattered. He looked at the mark he'd left, and she was sure it was a dark one. She could still feel it stinging. She could also feel how slick she'd grown as his thumb slipped in and out of her.

“Think I could get you to flip out like that again?”

“Bull...” she warned.

“Kinda want to see how many servants we can scare half to death with your caterwauling.”

“I swear to...the Maker, or something, if you don't...”

He bit her again, lower on her thigh, in the meat of her muscle. He'd pulled his thumb away, but now plunged his first two fingers into her. Before she could fully yelp, he let her go. The sting of the first bled into the second, leaving her throbbing in more ways than one. “One more,” he whispered, looking up at her. She couldn't imagine what she looked like now, draped all over the bed while he hunched between her legs. “One more should do it.”

She didn't need to ask what. His fingers stroked deep, bringing her ever closer to release. It wasn't the first time he'd done this to her, but it had been years. And she had to sit in a saddle in the morning! She groaned and he laughed. He remembered, even if she hadn't until then.

“I fucking hate you,” she hissed.

“No you don't, kadan. And if you wanted me to stop, you know what to say.”

Katoh. She debated it, briefly. But she knew, she knew, what the orgasm would be like. He watched her, patient as ever, his fingers still driving into her, keeping her on that razor edge. In the end, she lifted her chin in challenge and absorbed the grin he gave her for it. His fingers changed angles, hitting her G-spot while his thumb now flicked her clit. She waited, tense and not really ready, for his teeth. He pushed her leg higher, getting as far under it as he could with his horns in the way. A whimper left her and then...

A hard bite on the back of her thigh, so hard she thought the skin would give. The onslaught drove her over and she practically gushed onto his hand as she came. Before the first wave of it ended, he was rising over her, fitting himself between her thighs, pressing against all the marks he'd just made. Her body clenched around his cock as he filled her in one thrust. The orgasm seemed to stutter back to life as he pounded at her, his hands now holding hers to the mattress. She had no breath to shout with, no thoughts in her head. Just him in her sights and his body pouring into hers and everything outside of this room washed away into insignificance. As intended.

He leaned down and kissed her, letting her get the smallest revenge as she bit his lip in return. And then there was only sweet oblivion.

When she came back to herself, she found that Bull had put all the pillows back and cleaned up the plate. Thankfully it hadn't broken, just spilled crumbs. He saw her come awake, or perhaps heard her breathing change and appeared at the side of the bed, a glass of water in hand. He helped her sit up, and made sure she drank it all.

“You all right, kadan?” he asked, the rumble in his voice completely different than when he was using it to keep control. She nodded.

“I'm pretty fabulous, thank you.”

He huffed a laugh and kissed her temple, then helped her get comfortable again. He then checked her hips and legs to make sure she had no residual aches from being stretched like that. He sponged her down and spread an elfroot salve on the bite marks with a gentle touch, then wrapped a length of gauze around her thigh so the salve didn't get all over everything in the night. Only then did he put out the lamps and climb into bed with her. He opened his arms and she rolled into them, snuggling up to his side while he lay on his back. He held her secure, his heartbeat a steady drum under her ear.

“I won't be able to sit a horse, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” He yawned and pulled her tighter to him. “You pissed?”

“Nah, it was worth it. I love you,” she whispered.

“Love you too. Now go to sleep, I've got you.”

---

In the morning, she climbed into the carriage with Vivienne. She ignored the surprised stares of everyone else and stoutly refused to meet Bull's eye for fear of making them both burst out laughing. Madame de Fer smiled to herself and made room for Mira to prop one leg off the seat. And didn't ask any questions.

Chapter Text

Mira was fairly used to cryptic messages from Bull. Back when the Chargers were new, and his posing as a Tal-Vashoth was just that, posing, communications were coded as a matter of course. He had a tendency to treat every interaction as offensive or defensive. He could plot out four escape routes and five ways to kill everyone in a room in under a minute. She couldn't really criticize the habit since the number of times it had saved their collective lives was much greater than zero. Still, it threw her a little to receive something in code from him when she'd just seen him that morning, groaning and grumbling as he got out of bed. What was even more out of routine about it was that it came from Josephine and not a runner.

High bells. Top room.

“When did he give you this?” Mira asked, translating the Qunlat. It was simple enough, honestly. Noon, in her chamber.

“He received a package this morning,” the Ambassador replied, somewhat absently as she was buried under a mountain of paperwork. Mira made a mental note to get more scribes in here for her to delegate to. She was positive that not all of this nonsense had to be handled by Josephine personally. “He seemed rather...excited about it.”

“Huh.” Mira tucked the scrap of paper into a pocket and flipped through the assortment of mail that had been set aside for her, including a package of her own. “Oh! It came!”

Josephine looked up at that, already smiling. “The pair of you do keep me entertained, Inquisitor, if I may be so bold. It is quite charming.”

Mira blinked in confusion for a moment, her gaze straying to the dimple hiding in Josephine's cheek. Then it came to her. The Ambassador would know who was ordering what and from where. As she was the one in charge of the coffers and any trade negotiations, it was her job to know.

Mira grinned. “Old habits die hard, I suppose. Must seem silly. But I'm glad it brightens your day.”

“Indeed it does, Inquisitor. I hope you enjoy yourselves.” Mira gave her a mildly chiding look now, to which the Ambassador giggled behind her hand. “Not like that! Although, I suppose that is not outside the realm of possibility, yes? With the hours you keep, it must be essential to take what opportunities you can to spend time together.”

“Josephine Montilyet, I would never have guessed such a dirty mind lay behind that perfect hairdo.” But then she remembered how her prim and proper Ambassador hadn't looked away from the towering form of the Iron Bull, fully nude. Maybe it wasn't such a shock to think that she got it. “Just promise me that no one will interrupt this time, all right?”

Josie nodded and shooed her on her way.

---

Mira climbed the final stairs to the tower chamber just as the noon bells rang out the hour. She heard splashing in the wash room and set down her package on a side table before she headed that way. She stood in the doorway and watched Bull sweep a razor over his scalp. He used no mirror to guide his hand and Mira knew, from many years of being privy to this particular habit of his, that his eyes would be closed. She crossed the room and picked up his eyepatch, running her fingers along the length of the straps to make sure they weren't worn out. He didn't stop shaving his head, but he shifted subtly in her direction, acknowledging her presence.

“I am here as requested,” she said lightly, finding a spot on the strap that went around his horn where it was beginning to fray. It wasn't quite ready to be replaced, but it would bear watching. She wouldn't want it to snap on him in the middle of battle.

“Always could count on you to be on time,” he replied, swishing the razor in a bowl of water. Someday she hoped he wouldn't feel the need anymore and would let his hair grow out. She'd been dying of curiosity to see what it was like almost as long as she'd known him. But she also understood why he kept it shaved.

She didn't ask why he'd wanted to meet with her. He'd tell her when he was ready and not before. While the dynamic of their relationship had evolved over the years, some things stayed the same. She put down his eyepatch and leaned against the wall to watch. The ritual was meditative and soothing, for both of them. She ran her fingers through her hair where it had grown out, a little ruefully. Her scalp felt strange to her still. Her advisors had convinced her to change her hairstyle to match her authoritative position and she hadn't argued much about it. Especially considering that she'd needed to look her professional best at the Winter Palace. Not like a wild savage, to quote Vivienne.

It's only hair, she thought to herself. It wasn't even the first time she'd done it. Her years with Leliana, she'd grown it out too. And now that the mission was over, she supposed she could go back to her preferred style. She simply hadn't had the time to do it. She pushed the thought away and refocused on Bull.

He smoothed his hand over his head, making sure he'd gotten every bit of it shaved close, then rinsed the razor and dried it. Among the many things Mira loved about him was his ability to effortlessly combine dexterity and strength. Most people thought he was brutish, with no gift of grace or gentleness. He let that assumption stand, too. It made people underestimate him, and he never let that advantage slip. Seeing him like this was a gift she was grateful for each time it happened.

“Wanna check it?” he asked and she looked up at him to see him smiling at her. Old habits indeed, she thought. It had always been part of the ritual.

“You need to bend down,” she said. Once they'd had a low stool for this part. Well, it was also for him to sit on when she was sewing him up after whatever battle he'd gotten torn apart in. Now that they had mages adept in healing around, she hadn't laid any stitches in him in months.

Bull actually got down on one knee, making Mira jolt for a second before remembering that this particular stance wouldn't have the same meaning to him as it did to her. Fifteen years in Thedas hadn't replaced her Earth memories that much. Without speaking, she ran her hands over his bare scalp, slipping her fingers behind his horns, along the back of his neck, her thumbs grazing the crown of his head. His eyes closed again and he tilted towards her a little, nearly resting against her breastbone. While she still had him between her hands, she leaned down and pressed a kiss right where the scars over his bad eye ended. If she hadn't been holding him, she would have missed the shiver.

“Smooth as silk,” she whispered, making him chuckle.

One arm came around her hips, holding her steady and close. “Your turn.”

“What?”

He looked up at her, a smirk growing. With his free hand he reached for her hair, his nails scratching lightly along the grown in section. “Your turn.”

Realization dawned. “Is that why you asked me up here?”

The smirk turned wide and toothy and he stood up with her still in his arms, lifting her clear of the floor. He handed her the razor and carried her from the washroom back into the chamber, where there was more light.

“I found this in a little shop the last time we were in Val Royeaux. Made me think of you, so I ordered it with some of that soap you like.”

“It made you think of me?”

“Yeah.” The razor had a beautiful mother of pearl handle she hadn't noticed when it was in his hand. It was delicately curved, the blade keen. She'd been so taken with watching him she hadn't even considered how ludicrously small it was for him. But it would be perfect for her. “Thought it would work well for this.”

Tears stung the back of her eyes but she blinked them back. He saw anyway and smiled gently. “Bull, you're the most...wonderful, ridiculous man I've ever known.”

“Does that mean you like it?”

“I love it. And you.”

“Good.”

He set her down and for the first time she saw that he'd brought in a tall stool from somewhere for her to sit on. There was a cloth beneath it to catch the hair, and on a little table sat a fresh bowl of steaming water and a bowl of soap with a brush already in it. A pair of shears lay next to all that. And of course, because he was Bull and he lived his life as a constant series of chess moves, he'd timed it perfectly so everything was still warm and ready.

Mira took off her top so it didn't get full of shorn hairs and sat on the stool, anticipation making a sizzle go down her spine. Bull separated her hair expertly, tying off the portion that would remain in a lopsided knot to give himself a clear view of the part he would shave.

“To skin?” he asked.

She nodded, too overcome to speak.

He lifted the shears and began snipping away the long pieces so it was as short as he could get it before he took the razor to it. It was methodical and brisk, but she shivered from the feel of it anyway. He chuckled again, fully aware of what he was doing to her. It had been a long time since he'd done this for her, but it was obvious he hadn't forgotten how.

“Tip your head,” he said when he was done with the shears. She dropped her chin and saw from the corner of her eye that he was lathering the soap in the bowl until it frothed. The scent of dawn lotus and honey filled the air. Before he started, he wrapped a wet cloth against the short hair, softening it so the razor wouldn't snag. The heat made her break out in goosebumps. Then she felt the brush full of soap paint across the side and back of her head.

The first pass was slow, the rasp of the razor cutting through the strands loud in her ear. He'd already used the blade on himself, but it was honed to a fine edge and hadn't lost any sharpness. She wondered if that was why he'd shaved his head first, to make sure it would be fine for her without nicking or pulling. It was the kind of detail Bull would think about. Mira had never loved him more than this moment.

“Thank you, kadan,” she whispered.

The razor didn't lapse as it slid over her skin, but she could feel the warmth radiate from Bull as he leaned a little closer. “You're welcome.”

They fell silent again as he worked. Each pass was smooth and steady, making her feel more and more like herself with every breath. Bull rinsed the blade and applied more soap and went over her scalp again, tilting her head the way he wanted it to catch every stray bit of stubble. Mira had fallen nearly into a stupor, hearing the razor and feeling the smoothness of the blade. The fire crackled in the hearth, the water whispered as Bull rinsed. Their breathing had synchronized. The weight of Inquisitor dropped off her shoulders, leaving only Mira behind. And she knew, as firmly as she knew her own name, that that had been his plan.

The warmth of a towel against her now bare skin made her startle; she hadn't realized he was finished. He wiped away the excess soap and made sure there were no missed spots. Before she could get up and see his handiwork, he held her in place, blowing the loose hairs off her neck from when he'd trimmed it. She shivered and he hummed.

“You did that on purpose,” she accused.

Bull snorted and didn't deny it. “How's it feel?”

He let her run her hands over it now, tugging free the knot of the rest that she would braid later. It fell into place and she felt like herself again. “It feels perfect.”

“Good.” He tidied up the tools and motioned for her to get up so he could gather up the cloth with all her hair on it to toss off the balcony into the wind. She was still buttoning up her shirt when he came back. “So, I see you got something today too. What's in yours?”

Mira grinned at him, ready to turn the tables, since she'd been thinking about him too when she'd placed her order. “Guimauves.”

Chapter Text

From the veranda, Mira could see Rialto Bay. It was a far cry from the rocky shores and violence of the Waking Sea. Here the waves were smooth and gentle, rolling onto a beach of glistening sand. Further out, where the water met the horizon, she knew there was nothing but open sea into the unknown once one sailed past Llomerryn. But here, nestled into a cove, the estate Josephine had loaned them was warm and inviting and had been the perfect place to retreat after...everything.

She leaned on the balustrade and let the breeze wash over her. She still felt unbalanced, but she was better than before. She was still alive. She still had purpose, although chasing down a friend was not a task she looked forward to.

She still had Bull. In fact, he was due back today, having taken his first job after...everything.

Trespasser, she thought to herself. A fitting name for the end. Solas and I don't really belong here. We trespassed upon this world and forever changed it in our own ways.

She looked down at what remained of her arm. The scars warped her skin, a mangled spiderweb of green tendrils that ran nearly to her shoulder in places. She woke sometimes with phantom pain from dreams that weren't quite nightmares, but were more than memories. Even now, a year later, she could recall perfectly how the discharge of the Anchor felt. And how terrified she'd been.

Live well, while time remains, he'd said. She should hate him. Instead, she felt only sadness. And a bone deep exhaustion that would never go away again. Did Solas think she would sit idly by and let him rewrite reality? Did he think there was any way she could possibly go off and live a simple life after all she'd been and done?

Time marched on, however, uncaring of their monuments and machinations. Soon, Mira would head back to Orlais, to a meeting with the Divine. Together they'd put together a plan with what remained of the Inquisition now that it was disbanded. She expected Leliana would be there. And Varric, once more running away from his duties as Viscount of Kirkwall. Dorian would join them via her crystal. Between them they had as many eyes and ears open as they could, looking for signs of the Dread Wolf.

There was a commotion behind her, inside the house. The big, airy rooms echoed with the arrival of the Chargers and she smiled to herself, still leaning on the balustrade. She didn't stir herself to go in and greet them, knowing Bull would get them settled before coming to find her. He knew she conserved her energy as best she could these days. Not having seen him for weeks on end wouldn't change that. Besides, the view was glorious, with the sun setting and the moons rising. She should enjoy this respite as long as she could before returning to...everything.

The clamor grew less disorderly and she tracked the second moon as it appeared in the south, winking like a shy lover. It was a crescent for now, but when it reached the zenith of its arc it would be full. It maintained a strange path in the sky and went through every phase as it rose and set due to its position above Thedas. Mira understood now why further west it couldn't be seen. It was small, slightly misshapen, and was in a polar orbit. The realist in her knew it was probably an asteroid captured by the planet's gravity. The fanciful part of her remembered the story of Mythal creating it.

Either way, it was lovely to see. Below, on the beach, the breakers began to rush to shore with more vigor. The sound of them was faint under the breeze and the murmur still coming from the house. But she could hear it if she listened for it. The tide would be chaotic for a few hours until Satina passed over the meridian here and began to set, taking its turbulence with it further north.

Evening was well on its way to night before she heard the heavy, uneven tread of Bull's boots. They were getting too old to be mercenaries, she thought idly. It was harder for him to shake off hours of riding after whatever job he'd been doing. Harder to ignore the aches and pains of a life lived as a warrior.

“Hey, babe,” she said into the gloaming, tilting her head to peer over her shoulder. His frame was backlit by the lanterns inside, painting him in shadow and silhouette. He'd gotten out of his armor and she could just barely make out the black design inked into the ball of his shoulder before he was too close for her to see without turning around. One large hand landed on her back, grounding and soothing and beloved.

“Kadan.”

“You good?” she asked, a simple question that encompassed so much more than the words alone. How was the job? Were you hurt? Did you worry about leaving me alone for the first time since I lost my arm?

“I'm good,” he replied. It was a job. I'm fine. I'm home. I worried, but now I'm here.

She turned away from the view and let him enfold her into his arms. His fingers threaded through the streak of gray in her hair, as they always did, before coming to rest on the back of her head to cup it. Mira relaxed into his grip, knowing he had her fully supported. They played fewer games now; her body couldn't take it and he had little urge to push her the way he once did. But the give and take had always been present between them. That had never changed.

Bull smiled crookedly, feeling her go pliant. Then he made a moue of displeasure, undoubtedly feeling the residual tension in her neck and back from standing so long. “You should have been laying down.”

“I'm not an invalid,” she rejoined archly. The look in his eye wilted her and she sighed. He wasn't wrong, not really. She should have been comfortably ensconced on the chaise that he'd put there for that purpose when they moved in. Those first weeks after losing her arm she was fatigued all the time, and the energy it took simply to dress and move around was frequently more than she had. It was better now.

It had to be. There was work to be done.

“I wanted to watch the moonrise,” she said. “I can't see the horizon from the chaise.”

He looked like he wanted to say something more, but he dismissed it with a tiny shake of his head. He still held cupped her head in his hand like something precious and she'd braced her own against his chest, feeling his heartbeat against her palm. He ducked down and kissed her. There was heat behind it, steadily climbing. If she'd still been able, she would have climbed up his body and devoured him. She wished now that she'd taken the opportunity to do that more when she had the chance.

He pulled away, nipping her bottom lip as he went. But his expression was sober as he looked at her. “What are you thinking about?”

Mira smoothed her hand across his chest, feeling each scar that marked him. A lifetime's worth. Many of them healed by her own hands. She smiled up at him, pushing away the regretful undertones of her thoughts. There would be plenty of time for solemn reflection in the years to come. She would take what playfulness was left while she could. Especially now, when he'd just gotten home after weeks away. “I was thinking about climbing you like a tree.”

They had known each other for sixteen years, and been as close as two people could possibly be in that time. He didn't need her to explain any more than that. A rueful look came and went in his eye and then something warmer kindled in the depths of it. He ducked down again, not to kiss her, but to bring them eye to eye. He swiveled his head towards her with a smirk.

“I'll give you a boost,” he whispered.

Mira laughed and wrapped her hand around the base of his horn. In a flash one arm went around her waist, while the other scooped her up under her legs. He settled her against his bulk, somehow managing not to tangle her legs in her skirt. Dresses were much easier for her to deal with one-handed, she'd found. He carried her to the chaise and leaned back on it with her now perched in his lap. She was still laughing quietly.

“I love you, you know that?”

“Yeah, I do, kadan. But you can tell me again.”

She leaned in close, using her grip on his horn for leverage. She kissed him once, twice. Little sips that made the spark in his eye grow hotter still. “I love you.”

Bull grinned, and she felt his hands slide up under her skirt. In the house, Mira heard the Chargers, the usual raucous jeering and bantering they always did after a job. She glanced back at Bull and found his grin had turned filthy. No, they didn't play the same games they once did, but they were quickly becoming adept at new ones.

She grinned back and rolled her hips into him. He was already getting hard under her.

“How quiet can you be, Bull?” she murmured, settling herself more firmly against him. “Hmm?”

His hands slipped into her smalls and she sucked in one breath before she felt the material give way to his strength. It was a good thing she had amassed as much wealth as she did, given how frequently she needed new underwear. And then she had no room to think about trivialities. His fingers were inside her and he was watching her bite her lip to keep from crying out.

“How quiet can you be, kadan?”

Chapter Text

Clandestine meetings were apparently no excuse for not having a proper meal, Mira discovered as platters and dishes were brought into the makeshift war room tucked away in a portion of the Grand Cathedral. That said, the smell of the food made her throat go dry and tight. Her stomach heaved in protest. She moved closer to Bull, hoping the familiar, soothing scent of oiled leather and warm skin would overwhelm her nose. Which had been happening with regularity since they'd come back to Orlais, she noted. His hand landed on the small of her back, rubbing small circles there. It was equal parts comforting and distracting and before long she found her nausea had faded.

“I'm all right,” she whispered to him before turning her attention back to whatever Leliana and Cassandra...Divine Victoria, rather, were arguing about now.

“Yeah, I know,” Bull said, somewhat cryptically.

Varric was in on the argument now, something about how his own network hadn't found any evidence of Solas lurking in the underworld of smugglers and cutthroats. Whoever was moving red lyrium around now hadn't gotten it from somewhere he knew about. Which, considering how vast and varied his knowledge of the stuff was, was saying something.

Her crystal lay in the center of the table, conveniently placed on the map over Minrathous. Dorian's voice was distant but clear, and he claimed that he could hear all of them perfectly well, could they please stop shouting. The meeting seemed to be progressing just fine without her. Mira was in the dark now, with no foresight left to give. Anything that might have been chronicled from the fictional version she remembered hadn't gotten this far yet. She was as blind as the rest of them. And because of that, she had little to add to the discussion. It wasn't like she would be leading armies now. What could she do, throw the arrows like javelins?

Bull put a plate in front of her. She hadn't even noticed him getting it. It held a buttered roll, a halved apple and the mildest cheese available from the selection. She threw a grateful glance at him, but she was on his blind side and he didn't see it. His hand had returned to her back, though.

“You think he pumped the water out of that mine we found?” he asked into the discussion. Were they still talking about lyrium?

“Nah, we blew that pretty much apart,” Varric said. “Nothing left to salvage there, and none of that was the red shit anyway.”

The talk went on, Dorian interjecting his opinion that they were looking for the wrong thing and should be focused on the movement of elves, Leliana agreeing with him, Cassandra hemming and hawing. Mira nibbled on the cheese.

As soon as she swallowed it, she knew it wasn't going to stay down. She touched Bull's arm to draw his attention and began to turn for the door, hoping she could keep it behind her teeth long enough to...

“Go,” he said, giving her a push.

She stumbled out of the war room and into a lovely garden where she bent over an urn filled with something large and vibrant. Hopefully no one saw her. When her stomach was empty, it settled back beneath her ribs. She gasped for air, clearing her head. She spat until she couldn't taste bile anymore, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She knew she had to go back inside before it looked any worse than it already did.

She turned and saw Bull standing in the archway that led back to the inner sanctum of the Divine's apartments. The look he gave her was...knowing. And something fell into place.

“How long?” she asked.

“I noticed in Kirkwall when we docked there. You were still green even after we got off the ship. And you haven't bled in a while.”

Not that that was any indicator lately. Her cycle had been off since losing her arm. She scowled at him. “Kirkwall was over a week ago! You didn't think to maybe mention...?”

“You're the healer, Chestnut. Figured you knew. That you were waiting because...”

Because you lost the last one, he didn't say, but she didn't need him to. It truly hit her then, what she'd been trying to convince herself was stress, or a lingering bug or anything other than what it was. For a moment sheer blind panic broke out over her skin, making her short arm prickle with goosebumps.

“I'm going to be 40, Bull,” she whispered. “I'm too old.”

Two strides brought him to her side, where he held her tight and let her bury her face in his bulk. “Nah, I've heard of older.”

“I have one arm!”

“So we'll make you a new one. Or maybe I'll carry it around all the time, save you the trouble. Make good on that threat to retire and let Krem take over.”

She tried to picture that and her mind went still, caught on the image. It evolved until she could see him perfectly, his head no longer shaved, civilian clothes. A tiny bundle in his big arms. She wanted it. She wanted it so desperately she thought she might cry. It was hard to imagine that he might want it as well. He'd never seemed the type, his care of the Chargers notwithstanding. That wasn't really the same.

“You're taking this rather well,” she mumbled into his skin. His stomach rippled under her cheek as he chuckled.

“I promised you 'someday'. I told you once, I choose you every day. And everything that comes with that. Everything.”

She pulled away to look up at him. He was smiling at her, a beautiful wide smile she'd never seen on his face before. “You're happy about this.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Aren't you?”

“I...” She'd dreamed of it, of course. So many times. A little imekari with his horns and her eyes. Or maybe his eyes and her hair. Or... His smile had turned teasing, as if he knew what she was thinking, and she swatted him. “Oh for fucks' sake, I just found out. Don't look at me like that.”

He burst out laughing, still holding her close. The door of the war room opened and the others came out, wondering what was taking so long. Leliana leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, but that didn't hide the fact that she was smirking. Varric was talking into the crystal, evidently winding down whatever was left to be said to Dorian. Cassandra simply looked impatient but was trying to hide it.

“This is a terrible time for me to be pregnant,” Mira said softly. Bull looked down at her, his eye still shimmering with mirth.

“I've heard that babies wait for no one.”

A baby. She was going to have a baby. It was really real. Before she could stop herself, she dropped her hand over her belly. There was nothing to feel yet, of course. It was far too early. She thought back to their long travels from Antiva to Val Royeaux. They'd sailed out of Rialto nearly a month ago, only two weeks after he'd gotten back from his first job with the Chargers.

Six weeks. How had she missed the signs? For that matter, how had he known them? This was one thing she was fairly certain no amount of Ben-Hassrath training had prepared him for.

“How did you know?” she asked.

He hefted her up, ignoring the shocked gasp from Cassandra and sharp laugh from Varric. It was very similar to the way they'd met him on the Storm Coast. When she'd thrown herself into his arms for the first time in years. He buried his nose into the crook of her neck and inhaled deep. A satisfied rumble vibrated out of his throat and she shivered at the promise in it.

“You smell different,” he said. “It's irresistible.”

“That's...” She sputtered, unable to put her jumble of thoughts into words. It was ridiculous and endearing and weird and maybe a tiny bit gross and...and they were going to have a baby. “Yeah, I'm happy about it.”

“I love you, kadan.”

She focused back on him, shutting out the rest of the world for just a moment to enjoy the look on his face. It was tender and joyful and so, so filled with adoration. She wrapped her arm around his neck and pressed their foreheads together. There was a feeling of coming full circle, of having everything fall into place the way it should. Mira Foret had found her home and it was in the arms of this man.

“We're going to be parents, Bull. Can you imagine?”

“Who woulda thought it, huh.”

Mira giggled. She pressed a smacking kiss to his mouth and then laughed as he held the back of her head in one hand so she couldn't get away as he deepened it.

“You're going to spoil our child rotten, aren't you, babe?”

“And you, kadan.” He breathed the words against her lips, fervent and low. “And you.”

~Fin~