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Chapter Text

The last leaves of autumn clung to the trees of Skyhold valiantly, a white powdery layer of snow turning them solid and crunchy under the heels of passers-by. It was not as cold as it would soon be, Dorian knew, but for now he was tolerably warm. The beautiful silvery fur of a large mountain cat that lined the collar of his new coat helped. The Iron Bull had gifted it to him, after returning from one of the expeditions with the Inquisitor. Apparently he’d spotted the creature, and then ended up fighting it off while everyone else was a little preoccupied with a group of bandits.

Dorian had huffed and complained about how surely it would smell of wet cat, but secretly he’d had to contain himself from doing a little pleased dance. It wasn’t the first time a lover had gifted him something, but it certainly was the first time a gift had been this thoughtful, and carried the weight of being acquired through more effort than just gold exchanging hands.

So if Dorian buried his face in the soft fur from time to time, and Bull grinned faintly if he caught him at it, then surely he could be forgiven for the sentiment.

It was quite a useful gift, and even up on the battlement Dorian only felt a mild chill on his face, where skin wasn’t covered by the coat. He paced the mostly empty walkways, stretching his legs away from the garden, which was much too full of well meaning Chantry sisters for his liking. Up here he was mostly left alone, unless he ran into a soldier he happened to know from the Herald’s Rest.

In the familiar calm up above the usual bustle of the Keep, Dorian immediately startled at the sudden sound of a child’s laughter right behind him. He barely had time to turn his head to see a blur of grey and black rush by with a shriek, close enough to catch the ends of his coat and briefly have it flutter up in the wind.

Dorian nearly let out a warning shout, but the sight of the child let the words die in his throat. It was a Qunari, that much was clear, though he had never seen one of their children before. The boy’s age was hard to tell, as Dorian had no idea about Qunari children sizes relative to humans, but he was dressed in simple dark clothes and boots that looked to be a bit too big. There were pronounced bumps on his forehead where the horns would be one day, and his copper hair was pulled back in what Dorian recognized as a simple military style.

The child glanced up at Dorian only briefly, green eyes shining with mirth, as he let out a sorry that sounded more like an afterthought than real concern for nearly knocking the man off his feet.

Dorian stared at him, unsure of what to say. He had heard about a group of Tal Vashoth mercenaries seeking refuge in Skyhold, but not that there were children among them. How unusual.

A call came from one of the towers along the wall, and the both the boy and Dorian turned to see who it was.

The Tal Vashoth standing in the door was massive, muscles pronounced and stark white scars all along their bare arms. The only concession to the cold was a cape and a laced up vest that reminded Dorian of the one he’d seen Krem wear during sparring matches. The Tal Vashoth has the same copper hair and green eyes as the child, though their skin was darker and more like the colour of slate. They called out again, this time in Qunlat, and the boy ran over without so much as a glance at Dorian. The warrior smiled and after a brief hesitation placed a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder to lead him away, though the affection in their gaze was clear.

Curiosity awoken Dorian watched them leave and stepped to the balustrade to watch them descend towards the courtyard. Something in his heart clenched at the sight of the child chatting on and on, clinging to the Tal Vashoth’s wrist as his… parent? (Did Qunari have parents?) listened patiently and with a sigh of fond indulgence. It was quite similar to how the Bull listened to the few children of Skyhold. Though Dorian had never seen him interact with an imekari.

A group of Tal Vashoth was assembled together. At the distance Dorian could barely make out what types of people they were, only able to assume that about half were warriors. But even from so far up he saw that there were at least a dozen children.

How curious.

Dorian watched as they spoke to one of the Inquisition officers for a few moments, before resuming his walk. He would ask the Bull about this later.

*

Tama had been a tamassran for far too long. She had raised and cared for countless years of imekari, first on Par Vollen and then in the borderlands of Rivain and Antiva, in the small outposts that were never meant to last for more than a few months but always remained for far too many years.

There wasn’t really much one could do about this. There was a need, for outposts and places of respite, small hospitals to take care of the wounded, smiths to repair armour and weapons, tamassrans to take care of the Antam. One couldn’t move between only Seheron, Par Vollen, and the few bigger centres of Qunari presence; there was a need for those smaller ports in the expanse of Thedas. Small shelters of reason and the presence of the Qun. They weren’t intended to exist, but they were needed, so exist they did.

Soldiers got wounded, things broke, and trade and food from Par Vollen soothed the soul much like reciting the Qun’s teaching did.

And then, of course, there was a need for somebody to take in the imekari that had not meant to exist

It happened, of course, no matter what the tamassrans tried to do in keeping careful records and plan for what was best. Soldiers and craftspeople far from Par Vollen or Seheron, and tamassrans had their needs too. Not all of them knew how exactly to prevent pregnancies, and not all of them could access what was needed. It happened. At most it set them back one soldier temporarily, if an Aqun-Athlok ended up that way. Occasionally it created a bit of a hassle in recording the exact bloodline of the imekari, but Tama had her own book with as much information on those in her care as she could get.

It should have been fine. For decades Tama did what was asked, what was needed. She took care of her people, she took care of the imekari together with two other tamassrans as best she could. Given that the imekari were all wildly different ages it was a little bit of a challenge to deviate from how she was trained to take care of groups, but it was alright in the end.

Raise an imekari, soothe their fears, teach them how to read and walk and live, tuck them in at night, carefully decide what path would suit them best, go on with her life. It should be easy. It really should have been.

Tama sat alone in the house, cool from being overgrown with ivy protecting it from the sun. The others were all in the yard, playing with the other two tamassrans, and close by she could barely make out the voices of the two Ashaad speaking outside.

She ignored it for now, not able to listen closely as she focused on the task at hand. Kos was clinging to her skirts were she sat, pitiful sobs shaking his tiny body as he wept. Tama was rigid, her heart turned to a block of granite, incapable of pain. It had to be.

“Peace, little one,” she told Kos, stroking through his pale grey hair. “It is to be.”

He was a gentle soul, delicate hands capable of creating things in more detail than the clumsy attempt most his age were usually capable of. Kos was too young, of course, but Tama thought that perhaps he could have returned to Par Vollen on the path of an artist, illuminating teachings of the Qun, or perhaps he could have been sent to the hanging gardens of Qunandar. He always did enjoy nature.

That is to say, she would have chosen this for him. Before he had accidentally created sparks of green energy with his hands, frightening himself terribly.

“But what did I do wrong, tama?” he wailed, looking up. His pale violet eyes were bloodshot from tears, his face wet and ruddy. “I promise I won’t do it again! I don’t want this!”

Tama gently wiped his cheeks with the edge of her shawl, willing herself not to show any emotions. Kos was such a sweet child, afraid of demons and the idea of hurting something with his mind. He liked soothing the other little ones and telling stories, since he didn’t know how else to help yet. He laughed and cheered when he and some of the others tried to knock each other to the ground with the barest hints of horns. He really wasn’t what a Saarebas was like normally.

“Nothing, Kos, you did nothing wrong,” she tried to soothe. Really she shouldn’t be speaking to him at all. There was no Arvaarad anywhere nearby, and Kos should have been locked away until everyone decided what to do. He was too young to really be a danger, though demons could already be attracted to him.

“You are what you are. Just as some apples are green and some are red, and you wouldn’t know from just staring at the tree trunk.”

Kos sniffed again, calming a little as he thought about this.

“Will I be punished?” he asked meekly.

Tama thought of collars and metal masks that covered faces, sawn off horns and sewn shut lips.

“No, Kos,” she promised, feeling her heart clench and flutter against the layer of granite surrounding it. “You will not.”

*

Eliana approached the Bull very shortly after the newest batch of refugees had received accommodation. There were quite a few too many to house in one place comfortably, so the warriors among the Tal Vashoth had decided they would set up tents outside a not yet quite restored tower’s rooms assigned to the rest, keeping all of them together.

The Bull had expected her, of course, their Elvish leader quite pragmatic and aware that there might be unforeseen problems. The Tal Vashoth had broken from the Qun less than three months ago, and were still getting used to the world this far south from their original home. While they were all very adamant on fitting in, they would not get it right immediately.

“Would you speak to them, if something is needed?” Eliana asked over a tankard and the Bull agreed readily.

He wanted to check them out himself, just to make sure everything was alright with the group. They had imekari with them, which was highly unusual. Tal Vashoth were usually soldiers breaking away from the Qun. It was rare that imekari were involved, unless they were born way after. This group had a wide age range of them, about twenty in number, ranging from infancy to the cusp of adolescence.

So the Iron Bull made his way to the tiny camp within the Keep, introduced himself, and was led deeper into their territory past worried stares.

There was a leader, the Bull realized, a tamassran with hair steel grey from age and one of her elegant curved horns snapped off right in the middle. Her face was the severe mask of an experienced teacher, her ice pale eyes took everything in while she watched over her charges. The imekari clearly loved her, the adults respected and revered her.

There was another tamassran, young and soft faced, introducing herself as Taashath. She couldn’t have been a tamassran for very long, still half a child but already carrying herself with the dignity of an experienced caretaker. At least two imekari were clinging to her at all times, and she seemed to focus on those older, and easier to take care of, while the main tamassran shifted her attention between advising the adults and caring for the imekari barely old enough to speak confidently.

Some of the imekari seemed to stray from their tamas completely, Bull noticed. A few of the older ones stuck to the sides of others. One timid looking child with gentle violet eyes stuck to a seamstress with fresh scars and bandages, hiding behind her each time anyone unfamiliar so much as glanced at him.

Two that looked like twins stuck to a pair of Taarbas, and an Aqun-Athlok had his hand on the shoulder of a boy that looked to be his own born as he practiced wrapping a sword’s handle.

Interesting.

“Ben Hassrath,” the leader greeted the Bull as he took a seat next to her, near the fire where a stew cooked. Her clear Qunlat was a familiar sound, and Bull found himself shifting his posture to look smaller, bowing his head respectfully.

“Formerly. I was exiled from the Qun,” he explained. By now those words barely stung.

“I see,” she replied, moving on. “You may call me Tama. This is what I am, even without the Qun, and I see no point in choosing a different name.”

Tama glanced at the others.

“Though I see why others do so. It is good to try and make a new life, now that we cannot return.”

She shifted, and Bull noticed that there was a bundle under her shawls. A baby nestled against her chest, dozing quietly. Only her face and a tuft of white hair were visible from inside the warm blankets. As he watched, Tama undid the knot that held the baby close, and carefully placed her in the Bull’s arms.

He immediately cradled her close, practiced from when he was still an imekari and stuck to his tama as much as he could.

“It’s unusual to have this many imekari,” he noted. “At least among freshly turned Tal Vashoth.”

“We had no choice,” Tama replied. “I needed to leave, Taashath saw my reasons, and besides us nobody else was left. No matter the difficulties, I could not leave my imekari behind. Not even her.”

She indicated the baby in the Bull’s arms, and he gently petted her downy hair. It must have been difficult to take care of a newborn on the journey south, he realized. But she looked healthy and her cheeks were as chubby as a baby’s should be.

“I will let the requisition’s officers know that you might need stuff for them,” the Bull assured Tama, and she nodded in acknowledgement.

“I thank you. I never had to speak of an imekari’s needs in Trade.”

The Iron Bull tore his eyes away from the precious little one in his arms and raised his eyebrows at the amount of imekari around him.

“No worries. It must be hard to take care of so many with only two of you.”

Tama’s lips thinned.

“We were more originally,” she explained, and then quickly changed the subject. “But as we are among the bas now, I think it could be good to try and do it their way.”

She nodded towards the adults with imekari hovering near them.

“You do not need a lot of teaching to take care of older ones. If Thedas has not fallen to complete chaos in so many centuries, then… families cannot be too wrong.”

The Bull thought of Dorian’s pained face in the rare moments he spoke of his parents, and Sera’s bitter sneer when her own adopted mother was brought up. He looked at the warrior with the child that looked like him, carefully helping him with his sword, and the seamstress who spoke to the timid one with hushed and patient tones.

Perhaps, if chosen carefully, it could work.

The Iron Bull remained by the fire with the baby in his arms to allow Tama to move about and take care of the other imekari for a while. When the food was declared to be done and everyone moved in with bowls, he reluctantly handed the baby back to Tama, who looked at him with a curious expression.

After a promise to return the next day to assist in whatever was necessary, Bull left them to their dinner, satisfied that he could help them all settle. He hadn’t gone very far when a soft voice called him back.

He turned to see the seamstress, who he learned referred to herself as Vat, the violet-eyed little imekari behind her clinging to her skirts and peeking out at Bull fearfully.

“Yes, do you need something?” Bull asked, turning fully to her.

“I do,” she said, her voice soft and gentle. “I know there are bas saarebas in Skyhold. Tell me, do they teach young ones how to use their gifts?”

She was much shorter than Bull, her expression gentle, but her posture was that of a warrior, shoulders drawn back and chin tilted up as her hand rested on the imekari’s head, the other on the dagger of her belt. She looked at him fearlessly, a challenge in her eyes even as she faced a former Ben Hassrath.

The imekari looked up at him with his eyes wide in terror.

Ah.

Bull nodded and then sank down to a knee with a smile, posture relaxed as he looked at the boy. He startled, but Vat didn’t move. She gave him an encouraging nudge, but didn’t push him.

“What’s your name?” Bull asked.

“Kos,” the boy replied, his hands clenching tighter.

“You’re a saarebas, right?” Bull asked, casually, as if it really was no big deal at all. At Kos’ nod he went on. “You’re in luck, Kos. The best mages in all of Thedas are in Skyhold right now. They can teach you anything you need to know about your powers. You can learn how to make fires and big thunderous lighting bolts. Would you like that?”

Kos seemed to relax a little, and Vat stood unmoved though her expression relaxed as well.

“Or healing. You can knit together broken bones and heal any injury! I wouldn’t be half as healthy if it weren’t for healers,” Bull went on, guessing at potential interests for the boy.

“And do you want to know a secret? The most powerful saarebas in this entire Keep? He’s my Kadan, and the strongest and cleverest mage I have ever known. Just don’t tell him that, he’ll preen all day.”

At this Kos actually stepped closer, eyes wide. Even Vat looked briefly startled.

“You can have a Kadan if you’re a saarebas?” Kos asked with a reverend whisper.

“You can be whatever you want,” the Bull confirmed. “Some saarebas here have families now. We have a saarebas from the courts of Orlais, with the most beautiful dresses, who’s just like a Tama among the bas. And saarebas who only heal, or who only study animals, or who just read books all day.”

Kos shifted from foot to foot, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. He was young enough that he must not have known he was a mage for very long, the Bull realized.

“Can I do these things too?”

“Of course,” the Bull promised. “We can go and talk to the saarebas leader tomorrow to decide what you could learn? How about it? I’ll help translate.”

Kos glanced up at his caretaker, and Vat nodded.

“Yes! Thank you!”

The Bull grinned and rose to his feet with a wince.

“Come find me when you’re ready. Now off, before dinner’s all gone.”

Vat gave Bull a grateful nod, and led Kos back inside, leaving the Bull alone on the battlements. He could hear an excited Kos ask Vat, “he said that saarebas here can have kadan! Do you think that’s-” before his voice was lost among the communal noises of the group.

Bull smiled and hooked his thumbs in his belt as he strode off in the direction of the library. It was about time he saw what his own Kadan was up to.

Chapter Text

There was no Arvaraad. There wouldn’t be one in their little settlement for quite some time, and Tama knew that it wouldn’t be long now until somebody decided that Kos was too dangerous to be around. For now they were firmly denied any suggestions of what to do to the saarebas, besides keeping him confined to one of the less used storage rooms, sheltered away from the others. He couldn’t use his powers at all, and he could not be touched.

Tama knew only too well what could happen to a frightened and cornered saarebas. Even at such a young age, and perhaps especially because of it, they drew demons. Put a saarebas in enough distress, without an Arvaraad to guide it, and you risked facing an abomination.

She had overheard the Karashok guards discuss options. The younger had been determined that killing a loose saarebas was the right course of action. Kos was too young to know how to follow the demand of the Qun to eliminate himself, so why not take over for him? The older, a veteran of Sehreon, had vehemently disagreed, stating that Kos was much too young to be of any real danger even without a collar. Surely they should not kill an imekari they had shared meals with only last week?

In the end, and with Tama’s advice, they both decided that the danger of facing a panicked demon was much too great to do anything.

Kos, gentle trusting Kos, had barely dared come near Tama when she brought him a meal after that discussion. He had hidden behind one of the barrels still left in the hastily prepared room, and had whispered that he would rather follow the demands of the Qun and perish in flames than risk unleashing a demon on his Tama and his friends. Only he did not know how, he couldn’t even willingly summon sparks after that first accidental time.

Tama had held him in her arms, body rigid as he trembled against her. She had made him promise not to try such a thing, for he was too young to know what the Qun demanded of him yet. It was best to wait patiently and see what was to be, than try to fulfil a purpose rashly and go wrong in haste.

The nameless settlement was peaceful, and life went on as if one of their own hadn’t displayed the marks of a horrid fate. As if one of their sweetest imekari hadn’t turned out to be a dangerous thing. The early noon sun was hot despite the season, and the tamassrans had just put the youngest imekari to bed. There were seven who still depended on their tamas at all times, and one who was an infant and was held by each of them in turn every day.

Tama walked past the buildings, shawls draped around her shoulders despite the heat. Most were lounging in the shade, apart from two imekari sparring with sticks. Meraad, the older, was laughing as the younger, Sata kept hitting his stick and occasionally smacking his arms earnestly. Tama could already tell that Sata would most likely be chosen for the Antam, with how eager he was in learning the mastery of all weapons. He was such a cheerful child, full of jokes and an easygoing nature. She did not want to see him sent to Seheron, and she knew that his fate was not supposed to be her concern.

Past the imekari, one of the crafters’ buildings provided shade. A seamstress sat on a pillow, hands working over a torn garment with practiced ease, occasionally stopping to pick up a fruit from a bowl by her side. A Vasaad leaned against the wall near her, bare from the waist up and idly playing with a colourful piece of cloth that had not yet been worked into anything useful. He watched the seamstress work, his eyes occasionally darting to the two boys fighting, feigning an air of casualness but the intensity betraying his interest.

Vasaad was the Aqun-Athlok who had borne Sata 9 years ago, and hadn’t even felt very bad about the entire business dropping him out of his squad, leaving them one man short. Every so often Vasaad would be stationed here again, to be treated for injuries or to guard the area, and each time he would only barely hide his curiosity about Sata. In truth he shouldn’t even know which of the imekari was his, but it was hard to blend into a year group when there were such infrequent and unplanned births. He was the only birth parent stationed here who knew for sure which imekari was his in the settlement, and the only one who seemed to care.

Tama knew that she ought to note this behaviour down, maybe have a talk with Vasaad, or recommend he be stationed elsewhere. But there really was no harm done. It wasn’t as if Vasaad acted any different towards Sata than the other imekari, after all. He was just curious, it wasn’t wrong to be curious if it did not lead to bad behaviours.

Tama approached the pair, and the seamstress looked up with a kind smile, inclining her horns as the Vasaad did the same.

“I greet you, honourable tamassran,” she said, her voice quiet but still audible. “Do you need my skills?”

Tama looked at her, and then glanced around. Nobody she didn’t want near was within view. The seamstress was an easygoing woman and found fulfilment in her role, even so far away from Par Vollen. But Tama knew her to love the other Qunari around her more than she did the Qun. The Vasaad asked the wrong questions and cared for the imekari he bore, was curious about the bas in ways that went just a little beyond the thirst for knowledge. Tama knew his love for battle and love for his great axe, but also knew that he did not care for the Antam as much as he should.

“Not at this moment,” Tama replied. She stood tall before the seated Qunari, eyes sharp and aware that a wrong judgement would lead to dire consequences. But she had been a tamassran for longer than the two before her were alive, she knew how to read people well enough.

“You are good people,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “An example of the best the Qun could ask for. True Qunari, the both of you, are you not?”

She emphasized “true” as she said this, looking from one to the other. True, Tal in Qunlat. Like Tal Vashoth, the True Grey Ones…

Her meaning didn’t go unnoticed.

The seamstress looked worried for a moment, shoulders tensing. Not in fear, but preparing to fight for her honour if Tama was accusing. The Vasaad’s eyes widened a fraction, and he looked at Tama with eagerness.

“Of course we are true,” the Vasaad said. “Nobody would give us an opportunity not to be true.”

Tama inclined her head.

“Would you accompany me, Vasaad?”

The seamstress glanced back at him in distress but he just grinned and got to his feet. He was taller than Tama, and as she started walking he kept her pace carefully.

Tama did not look at him as she walked. She knew he was not the only one who would run and become Tal Vashoth if only an opportunity arose. It was so subtle, she had never seen a need to note down more than the worst behaviours, ignoring the whispers that didn’t quiet down fast enough.

Perhaps this was a sign that she herself was teetering at the edge. That she was in danger of becoming one herself. Had any tamassrans ever gone Tal Vashoth? Any who weren’t warriors? If that had happened, then Tama did not know. Most preferred to act as if the Tal Vashoth did not exist at all.

If not her blind eye on this, then surely the whole business with Kos would be the final push. And there had been so many before him. So many saarebas imekari Tama had informed the Arvaarad about. He wasn’t even the first one she had noted down personally, nor was he the youngest. Every single time, Tama had gently explained to them what exactly a saarebas was, that they were honoured for their sacrifice, that it was good.

What had changed? Was it that there was no Arvaarad nearby? That she was somehow more fond of Kos, than of all the others she had raised so lovingly?

Tama didn’t know, and the granite around her heart creaked and cracked. She could not dwell on this. It was to be, it was so long in the past now, what use was grief? No, she would remain as stoic as ever, and see that at least this one would not be hidden away by a cold mask.

*

Dorian was idly leafing through a book that had turned out to be yet another dead end when he heard quiet voices from behind him. He glanced up just in time to see a Tal Vashoth walk by, looking very nearly elderly. A child was clinging to his hand, looking up at Fiona in rapt attention as the Elf pointed out bookshelves to him. Each time she spoke the Tal Vashoth would speak in Qunlat, and then in Trade after the child replied, translating back and forth.

They were out of earshot just as soon as they arrived, so Dorian raised his eyebrow at them and returned to his work.

Just a little while later Fiona stepped up to his desk. She didn’t often approach him, probably hesitant given Dorian’s involvement in the whole business with Alexius. They didn’t have any overlap in their duties in the Inquisition either, and barely saw each other outside the training ring.

“I need to ask a favour of you, Pavus,” Fiona said without much preamble.

“How can I be of service to our Grand Enchanter?” Dorian asked and turned his attention to her, smiling politely.

“The Tal Vashoth have a mage among them. And they want to know how one is supposed to… raise a mage. Freely. They want information and might request support. You’re close to the Inquisitor and know what her opinions are. It would be easier for you to negotiate between them.”

She made a vague hand gesture.

“And you know more about Qunari than any of my mages.”

Dorian chose to ignore that comment and nodded graciously.

“Of course. I shall go see what a Tevinter mage could do for our new friends.”

He rose to his feet, hiding a smirk at Fiona’s brief wince. It really was no trouble at all. He was curious about those new arrivals, and he doubted that they would do anything but glare lest they got kicked out of Skyhold. Besides, he was quite sick of useless old tomes for now.

The trek to the Tal Vashoth quarters was a short one and Dorian found barley any around. It was a few hours before lunchtime, and most were either working with the quartermaster to figure out their needs or sparring in the yard. A young woman was sitting with a few very little children, telling them a tale from the sounds of it and the rapt attention they paid her, barely interrupted by the new arrival, and a few of the adults were dozing on makeshift cots in a corner.

Dorian immediately spotted the one who must be the leader. She had an air of regality about her, streaks of steel grey in her hair and a broken horn not detracting from the mask of perfect authority on her features or her posture. She sat on a little stool by the fire with more command about her than most lords and kings Dorian had seen in his lifetime.

The Tal Vashoth turned to look at him, and Dorian met her icy pale gaze head on, ignoring the impulse to avert his eyes.

“You are one of the mages,” she observed, her Trade clear though thick with traces of Qunlat, as if she knew the language perfectly though had not gotten to use it much yet. “I am the tamassran of our group. You may call me Tama.”

“Dorian Pavus, at your service, Tama” he said with a bow, remembering how highly regarded tamassrans were from Bull’s tales. “I have been told that you might be in need of assistance.”

Tama nodded and indicated one of the seats near the fire. Dorian sat down, grateful for the warmth even after his brief trip outside, and only then noticed that there was a crate next to him. Or… what was once a crate, now a makeshift cradle, A soft little face glanced up at him, and he met the gold and green speckled eyes of an infant. The baby lay on its stomach, and returned to playing with a small carved figure after a brief look up.

Dorian tore his eyes away from the sight of such a chubby little Qunari baby when Tama began to speak again.

“One of our imekari turned out to be a saarebas. Only about four months ago.”

Her eyes were on a leather-bound tome in her lap, filled with neat script that Dorian recognized as Qunlat but couldn’t read.

“The way of the Qun is not for him. For none of us, anymore. But none of us know how to raise a mage. Your circles are broken, and I would not give him away even if they were not. I hope the Inquisition can help us, so we know what to do with him, and any future saarebas that might appear.”

“A good choice to come to us for help,” Dorian nodded. “There’s so many mages here, with different opinions on how to go about this. One of us will have a suitable way for you to proceed.”

“I will note down anything you can tell me,” Tama replied. “And see what will work best for Kos.”

Something clattered and Dorian turned to see the toy the baby had been playing with slide over the edge of the cradle fall to the floor loudly. Immediately the baby started crying, a small frail sound that was more pitiful than annoying as the baby lost its entertainment.

Unthinkingly Dorian leaned forwards towards the child, shushing it gently.

“Come now, there’s no need to cry,” he said, quickly picking up the toy and returning it, though the tears and crying didn’t stop. He opened his palm and created a small bird out of purple sparks, just as he’d done occasionally if he somehow ended up near children in Tevinter (which was extremely rare).

The baby immediately giggled and stopped crying, eyes wide and reaching for the sparks.

Dorian smiled, satisfied that he had stopped the child from being upset any longer, and returned the toy to its waiting grasp. When he turned back he saw Tama’s eyes boring into him, gaze calculating, and he froze.

There he was, a Tevinter altus, among freshly turned Tal Vashoth, performing magic casually. Qunari were much more tense about these things than anyone else in Thedas.

“Forgive me,” he said sheepishly, bowing his head again and making the sparks disappear. “I did this out of habit, I won’t cast any more magic in your presence.”

Tama shook her head slightly.

“No harm done, this is something we will… get used to with our mage anyway. And you have cheered her up.”

Her nostrils flared briefly.

“You know of the Qun and our ways, do you not? You care that we do not usually want magic near us, and you know that a tamassran is worthy of respect. That, or you are a very polite bas indeed.”

“I am close to a Qunari, yes,” Dorian admitted, glad that he hadn’t upset her too much. “Or at least he was one, until a few months ago.”

Again Tama seemed satisfied with the answer. She reached into one of her skirt’s deep pockets and pulled out a small set of ink and quills, setting out to prepare them.

“Good. Then tell me about how your people go about treating child mages, if you do not mind.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Dorian watched her flip through her tome, occasionally pulling out loose pages of different paper qualities. He glanced back at the baby, who was quite happy to play with her toy again. There still was some snot and tears on her face, so Dorian pulled out a handkerchief from his coat and carefully wiped at her face against burbled protest.

“Now now, don’t complain, young lady,” he chided her gently. “It’s simply not becoming to look as filthy as that in company. There, isn’t this much more comfortable?”

The baby returned to her toy as soon as he let her be, and Dorian tucked the handkerchief away again. Tama was watching again, her quill now ready, so he cleared his throat and turned his full attention to her.

“Right. Where should I begin-“

Chapter Text

Salty wind beat against skin and pushed clouds before the sun, casting the sky into deep steel grey. The ship was filled with Qunari… or Tal Vashoth now.

Tama stared out towards the land, far off in the distance. It was still strange to think that all of her people could fit onto a single ship at all. Vasaad had snuck off to arrange everything with the captain, making sure that all who were to break away from the Qun could have a quick and safe passage into the south, away from potential backup to hunt them down.

It hadn’t been smooth, nor had Tama expected it to be.

At first Tama had met each and every one who had thought about leaving before, had waited for an opportunity while biding their time. To her surprise she was treated with more reverence, was more honoured than before by those who shared their treacherous thoughts. All had different reasons, but she had assumed that they would not respect a tamassran at all, if they already wished to leave the Qun. But then they had all been raised by tamassrans, had loved them, had honoured them, held their entire class in high regard. That one of the teachers and spiritual leaders was willing to give her approval and even follow them into the unknown made her all the more worthy in their eyes.

With her guidance the plans were set into motion. A safe passage well away from the Qun’s influence, plans to grab weapons and supplies, for it surely would be a long journey. She made sure that clothes and tools, as well as food were packed up discreetly, hidden some distance away from their position. There were enough craftspeople who wished to leave, that Tama was sure their group could get by if they attempted to settle in some unclaimed land of the bas. Or at the very least offer services beyond selling their swords, for she knew they would need to support themselves.

The children would be the biggest problem. Only taking Kos would not do much good to any future saarebas, and the youngest infant in her care came from a bloodline thick with those. At least one or two more could pop up among the youngest children as well.

In all their planning Tama had known that any sudden movement without previous orders would cause suspicion. There was simply no way to have so many leave discreetly or in a staggered manner. Getting separated would only reduce the chance of a getaway.

It had been bloody, in the end. Several of her new charges fell, fighting hard to fend off those loyal to the Qun, rage and betrayal clashing together. Tama had held a dagger as she urged the imekari on, away from the battle and the fear, ready to kill if anyone tried to take them.

Holding Kos away from it all had nearly been her undoing. There had been three tamassrans, the youngest of them all ushering children towards the ship, the older and closest to Tama’s rank with a sword and screaming curses at the betrayer.

“The demons have gotten to you,” she accused Tama, eyes wide in rage, and borrowed sword brandished as she stared at Kos, half hidden by Tama’s skirts. “It has corrupted you, to get you to set it upon the world!”

The sword had shot out for him, and Tama had killed a Qunari that day. She could not regret protecting her charges.

Now on the ship she did her best to remain still and calm. Each motion dragged on her head strangely, as one of her horns had been broken clean off in the middle, distributing her weight in a way she was not used to. She treated the wounded and consoled the ones who mourned the lost, both rebels and Qun loyalists. The young tamassran tried her best to help with the children, but now there were only two of them. Tama would need to figure out how to take care of them all now.

Her eyes slid over the wounded who were speaking to each other in hushed voices, her people gathered out of the way of the ship’s bas crew. They were hopeful, exhausted, some shocked that they had actually gone through with their plans. Most of the children were asleep, exhausted after their mad dash towards the shore and the fear. Some of the youngest slept in the arms of the adults, who seemed not to mind that task, though they were not tamassrans themselves.

The seamstress who had chosen the name Vat for herself had even gone so far as to take food to Kos, sitting down by him and speaking to him without fear. She was gentle, that one, but Tama had seen her grab an axe and do her best to defend her friends though she barely knew how to wield the weapon correctly. Now Vat once again showed her resolve by ignoring the fear of demons to speak to Kos, who warmed up to her quickly.

Nobody would hurt him anymore, not if Tama could help it.

“Where will we go?” Vasaad asked her quietly as Tama stared down at the green and grey waves lapping at the ship’s hull. “I wouldn’t mind being a mercenary and all, but the imekari. And I like this group.”

Tama inclined her head, carefully accounting for the lost weight of her horn.

“We shall remain together. Perhaps build a small community, we are so few, we would hardly be a nuisance if we go about it well. You and the other warriors could still be hired for your swords or help us build a new life.”

Vasaad nodded and others scooted closer now, warriors and craftspeople alike.

“We could join the ones who take care of that,” one of the older warriors said, and pointed towards the pale green mark in the sky that could barely be seen through the clouds. “The ones that closed the tear in the sky. I heard stories in Rivain. They take in anymore who pledges their sword, lots of people go to try and follow somebody who does good. They bring order, and purpose.”

Tama eyed the sky thoughtfully. It would be a long journey, but it would give them a destination and goal. Something to strive for and give her people something to hope for. It wouldn’t do to be aimless for too long. That way lay madness.

“Very well,” she agreed. “Then find me information on these people, and I will make a decision then.”

It was as good a place as any to start building a new home.

*

Dorian lay curled up between soft blankets and mismatched pillows, warm and content as a candle lit up the room. It was snowing and the Keep was silent and calm, and even the Herald’s Rest a few floors below was quiet for once. It was still much too early to sleep, in his opinion, so for now he merely enjoyed the comfort of the bed.

At his back the Bull sat in bed, a book in his lap and a candle on the table near him. He seemed to be lost in thought, as the occasional rustle of a page being flipped had stopped a while ago.

“How are you getting on with those new kids in Skyhold?” the Iron Bull asked after a few moments while Dorian contemplated speaking first. “One of them’s a mage. You probably see him around the circle ones sometimes.”

Dorian hummed in thought.

“Quite polite and somehow less willing to call me a maleficar than the human ones,” he said lightly. “Would have thought the Qun would have made them more suspicious. Other than the ones that nearly knock me over every time they run past me, they’re fine, aren’t they?”

The Bull grunted. For a few moments he was quiet and Dorian thought that maybe he had just wanted to make smalltalk about his fellow Tal Vashoth. Then the sheets rustled.

“Have you ever thought about having your own? Kids, I mean. Ever wanted any?”

Dorian froze where he lay, unwilling to turn and look the Bull in the eye as his heart raced.

Having children, in his case, was quite a sore topic.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I thought you would have noticed by now that I don’t quite have the, ehem, equipment for childbearing, no matter how magnificent your cock may be,” he scoffed, deflecting. Best not get into this.

The Bull laughed quietly, but it didn’t sound as joyful as Dorian would have thought. He looked over his shoulder and found the Bull staring at him with a face far too serious for his liking.

“Don’t have to give birth to them, Dorian. Even if they’re not yours by blood, you can still have children.”

Dorian stared at him for a few seconds, throat tight.

“The only way I could ever end up with children,” he said slowly. “Would be if I crawled back to my father on my hands and knees, married some unfortunate woman and then proceeded to drown my sorrows in wine until I was too numb to even pay attention to those unhappy offspring.”

The Bull’s face twisted in sympathy and Dorian quickly turned away, heart still racing.

He hadn’t lied… This really was the only way for him.

But…

In truth he had thought of it sometimes. In those foolish moments when Dorian had dared to entertain a future in which he had a lover at his side, some handsome man with sharp wit and utter devotion to Dorian. And children. Not theirs maybe, not the way his own father would want. But he had been quite fond of the idea of a young child gazing up at him with admiration as he taught them all he knew, gave them their first proper mage staff and watching with pride as they cast spell after spell. How it would feel like to love a child that same way his father surely must have loved him at some point in his childhood…

Impossible, of course, but nevertheless…

“What about you then?” Dorian asked, trying to ease the mood and distract himself from those thoughts. “I know Qunari don’t do… families, but have you ever thought about it?”

“Barely,” the Bull said immediately. “But only because I knew it just wasn’t to be. I could have been a tamassran, I guess, if I hadn’t liked hitting things so much. Was always good at taking care of the younger ones. Guess now that my life is free for me to shape how I want, I could entertain the idea.”

“Ah,” Dorian said, pulling the blankets tighter around himself.

The Iron Bull would be a good parent. He was already mother henning his Chargers so much, it wasn’t much of a leap to imagine him with an actual child, especially now that Dorian had actually seen what his people’s babies looked like. Surprisingly small and soft.

“It would not be such a terrible idea,” he admitted after a while, keeping his voice light and unaffected. “A child I mean. If you were to accept dealing with the unpleasantness of it all. I imagine they make quite a mess. Loud and smelly, I’d wager, and you need to keep them entertained...”

The Bull laughed, and the strangely serious mood was broken.

“It’s not so bad,” he said with a nudge to Dorian’s shoulder. “Besides, I thought you liked being the centre of someone’s attention.”

Dorian scoffed but did not deny it.

The book was placed down and the Bull blew out the candle, before making himself comfortable on the bed.

“Good night, Kadan,” he said, and Dorian barely remembered to say it back.

Moments later snoring filled the small room, and Dorian lay awake, thinking of things that could not possibly be his to have.

*

The Iron Bull spent more and more time in the library these days. Sitting next to Kos, whose feet didn’t quite reach the ground sitting on a chair meant for adults, and trying to focus on the diagrams Dorian had sketched out in neat and precise strokes of his quill. Runes the Bull didn’t recognize or know what to do with, as well as rudimentary sketches of demons and what Dorian claimed were the most common spirits one might encounter in the Fade.

Kos frowned in deep concentration, hanging on Dorian’s every word even though he only understood about a third of what was said. The Bull tried his best to keep up, acting as the translator for Kos despite not knowing what Dorian was talking about and sometimes struggling to translate things into Qunlat so that they made sense. If there were better ways to teach somebody about magic theory, then it had never been part of Bull’s area of expertise.

“It is very unlikely that you will encounter one of these in your dreams,” Dorian said, tapping one of the sketches, “As you are quite young and still weak. The most important thing you need to know is that you must refuse any demon’s offers. That is the difficult part, knowing that a demon could approach in the first place.”

The Bull turned to Kos to translate, but the boy nodded, determined.

“Because- not knowing. A demon could walk to you. Makes young mages be in danger,” Kos said, very carefully speaking each word of Trade to keep his pronunciation clear.

The Bull grinned at him, proud of the quick progress the boy made. At first Kos had refused to even try speaking or indicating that he knew any Trade at all, embarrassed to mangle the language. With his encouragement and advice from Vasaad, who spoke Trade with a noticeably foreign twang and a mixture of Antivan and Rivaini dialect thrown in, Kos had finally decided that learning the language through practice was more important than appearing perfect at it.

“Exactly,” Dorian confirmed, not reacting at all to Kos’ hesitance. “This is why a mage must begin training as soon as powers manifest. You need to know what you’re up against!”

Kos dutifully wrote down a few notes in clumsy and stiff Trade letters, and quickly followed up with adding an elegantly written Qunlat translation. He was determined to combine learning his craft and learning the language, and though the Bull had worried about the young boy being overwhelmed, it seemed to help him with both.

Dorian hadn’t been the one to teach him about the Fade initially, as everyone had agreed that Solas might be best for the topic. Solas however had enthusiastically started explaining concepts so complicated that the Bull had struggled to figure out how to explain to Kos what was going on. In the end, Dorian and Fiona had gently intervened, stating that Kos would need to start with more basic knowledge and then return to the Elf a little later, when the wisdom would be of more use for the young boy.

Watching Kos carefully note down the last of the new information, Dorian closed one of his books with a dull snap. He’d managed to find several with the basics, suitable for a young child to learn from, as Dorian wasn’t exactly used to teaching young mages on his own yet.

“I do believe that we’re due for a lunch break,” he announced, and Kos’ ears perked up. “An empty stomach is the natural enemy of sharp minds.”

Kos quickly packed up his notes and arranged the ink and quill on the desk before getting up and waiting for the adults expectantly. Usually somebody would come by to fetch him, but today Dorian and the Bull had been invited to eat with the Tal Vashoth.

“Lets go!” Kos said in Trade, beaming proudly as the Bull nodded and grinned. He was getting good at remembering specific phrases now.

Dorian draped his coat around his shoulders despite the very short trip they would take outside, and together they made their way towards the Keep’s courtyard. Snow was piling up in corners but that didn’t stop anyone from going about their daily routine. The sparring ring was surrounded by a small crowd, their breath thick clouds in the air.

The Bull immediately spotted Krem, holding a standard training sword and shield. Facing him was Vasaad, wearing minimal armour and holding the same kind of sword. Both were grinning fiercely as they circled one another. From the sheen of sweat on both their faces the Bull could tell that they must have been at it for a while, and both were starting to show signs of fatigue. He snorted, thinking about how just that morning Krem had watched Vasaad from a distance, admiration and nervousness in his eyes as he quietly asked the Bull if it would be appropriate for him to challenge the other warrior. Evidently it had not only been appropriate, but also very much welcome.

With the weather worsening there had been few repairs done on the tower designated to the Tal Vashoth, but they seemed to make do just fine. The sections with proper rooms and no structural damage had been converted into a communal room, as well as spaces to store their belongings and portable cots. The most vulnerable of the group slept inside, while the warriors and stronger adults took up the part of the tower that was missing an entire wall, sturdy tents offering shelter from the elements. It was much more comfortable than camping out in the wilds, and as it was just for sleep it was an agreeable temporary solution.

For now the entire common room was filled with Tal Vashoth and Kos ran towards his chosen mother. By now the Bull was certain that Vat would fight anyone who dared question the connection between her and the little mage, and the tamassrans both seemed to approve of the relationship which was unconventional by Qun standards. As the Bull watched Kos excitedly tell Vat about what he’d learned that day, he figured that it was just as fine.

Most of the imekari gathered around together on pillows and folded blankets, leaving the limited seats to some of the older Tal Vashoth. Everyone moved around quickly, tearing up bread from the kitchens and gathering bowls to fill with cooked grain and spiced vegetables. The Bull took a deep breath and caught exact smell of a perfect spice blend, mouth watering. It had been too long since he’d had a meal like that, usually he wouldn’t bother preparing something like that, except on special occasions with the Chargers. It was meant to be shared anyway.

Dorian moved with confidence between the tall people around him, and Bull could tell that there was barely any hesitation in him left. It was normal, he supposed, for a Tevinter mage to have some unshakable remnant of worry around so many Tal Vashoth.

“No rice today,” Tama said as most in the room had settled down and some of the imekari sneakily nibbled at their food. “This dish is meant to have it. But it is a good thing just like on Par Vollen anyway.”

She explained to Dorian as he was handed food.

Very quickly the last stragglers entered the room and soon everyone was tucking into their food. The Bull very nearly moaned in pleasure at the perfectly spicy dish, feeling the flavours of home even if not all ingredients were right. Perhaps it was the company, and who had cooked it that mattered.

Quite a few Tal Vashoth were looking at Dorian expectantly, as if waiting to see his reaction to the spiciness of the dish. The Bull suppressed a grin. He knew full well that Dorian would go for much hotter if it was available, and go out of his way to choose flavors that made the Bull feel like he could spit fire like a dragon.

Dorian chewed for a few moments, then let out a pleased hum and covered his mouth with his fingertips as he swallowed.

“Oh that is excellent,” he said. “Thank you for inviting me along. It’s been an eternity since I’ve had good northern food.”

Some Tal Vashoth looked a bit disappointed, but the ones that had been involved in preparing the meal preened.

“It is good that you like our dishes,” Tama said with a small smile.

“I would try and cook something from my part of Tevinter,” Dorian said. “But I’m afraid my skills are quite poor. It would be a bad way to pay you back for the hospitality.”

There was some laughter and the Bull heard some mutters in Qunlat, discussing whether Tevinter food was anything like Seheron, or whether it would be completely different. Dorian had endeared himself to the tiny community by providing assistance with Kos, and he visited Tama often enough that he was a familiar face by now. While some of them still struggled to keep certain bas apart, Dorian was one they recognized by sight if not by scent.

The Bull received a second helping of the meal without needing to ask for it, and the younger tamassran looked close to forcing a second bowl on Dorian. She was slight for their kind, and still she was taller and broader than Dorian, which she saw as a good reason to try and make sure the mage was well fed. He was part of their wider community now, and it would not do to let somebody go hungry.

Dorian averted any attempts at having food pushed his way by picking up the youngest imekari, who had been fed earlier and was quite pleased by being held right in the middle of the action. She could not sit on her own yet, but Dorian didn’t mind to keep her in position, occasionally bouncing his knees and listening to the snippets of Qunlat he understood.

Conversation went on and Dorian seemed quite happy where he was, only shifting once when the infant started to fuss. She settled when he let her rest in the crook of his elbow instead. Bull was idly glancing at the two when the baby reached up her tiny little hand and took hold of Dorian’s moustache. Dorian stiffened and several of the Tal Vashoth perked up, eyes focused on the pair with barley concealed alarm.

The Bull was about to reach out to help his Kadan get out of the baby’s hold, knowing how much Dorian hated having his carefully styled hair ruined – but to his surprise Dorian just let out a soft laugh and shifted his hold so that the baby wasn’t pulling at him too hard.

“Alright then,” he said lightly. “I see how it is. Very well, I won’t move.”

He proceeded to act as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all, and slowly the others averted their eyes and returned to their conversations. The Bull had to struggle not to stare too much, quite enchanted by the baby’s actions. She must have been very interested in the facial hair, as all other adults she had ever seen were clean-shaven.

Dorian didn’t complain even once, though he did occasionally shift his shoulders in discomfort at the weight of the child in the awkward position. . It only lasted about ten minutes before the baby fell asleep and her little arm dropped down to her side again. Tama took her then, to put her in her makeshift cot, and Dorian carefully fixed up his ruined moustache and proceeded to carry on listening to everyone else.

It was early afternoon when people started to return to their tasks for the day. One of the kids, Sata, whom the Bull had learned was actually quite literally Vasaad’s, pulled Kos along to join the training of the circle mages. A warrior in the making, Sata seemed to have taken it upon himself to make sure nobody so much as said a mean word to Kos (which hadn’t happened yet, from what the Bull heard, and he had made sure to pay attention to the attitude towards the Tal Vashoth).

Dorian bowed and thanked Tama for being invited for a meal, and then they left together.

They were halfway back to the library when Dorian glanced up at the Bull. His moustache was drooping at one side, which the Bull found incredible endearing.

“Why doesn’t the baby have a name?” Dorian asked. “Everyone else is going by their role title or has already chosen one for themselves.”

The Bull shrugged and scratched at the base of his horn.

“We don’t really name imekari. It’s mostly nicknames based on personalities. I was known as Ashkaari, “one who thinks.” Kos means “nature spell.” He told me his nickname used to be Kost which means “peace,” but once his powers manifested they gave him a name more befitting a mage. I suppose the baby is much too young to show a personality yet.”

“Oh trust me, she very much has a personality.”

The Bull laughed.

“Sure. She’ll probably get a nickname soon enough. For now it’s fine cause there’s only one baby and no problems keeping them apart. Why?”

Dorian frowned.

“It just seems so strange to only ever think of her as ‘the baby’. Kind of rude in my own head. I was a Dorian before I was even born.”

Bull snorted and patted his shoulder.

“It’s not rude at all, trust me.”

They continued their way in silence, the Bull’s arm around Dorian’s shoulder, and Bull found himself wondering who the baby might become once she grew up more.

Chapter Text

The Herald’s Rest was quiet this early in the morning, at least compared to the usual noises filtering in from outside the Keep and the few inhabitants inside the Rest. Somewhere through the walls Bull could hear Sera cackling to herself, which he ignored for now as he walked down the steps. There was usually something going on with her and if it was anything important he would find out soon enough. Hopefully indirectly.

At the ground level barely anyone was there, as usual. Cabot was standing at the bar, moodily eyeing two guards, who had only just finished their night shift. The Chargers’ table was occupied by Krem, who had several ledgers spread out on the table, pointing out details to Vasaad. Some of the Tal Vashoth soldiers planned on taking smaller mercenary jobs once the winter was over, and while they were extremely good at the practical side of that, they needed to know how to do business outside Qun territory. Krem had figured this out fairly quickly, and now had spent several weeks teaching Vasaad about things he ought to look out for, how to tell whether somebody was trying to rip them off, and what sort of jobs never to take.

It was all fine and nothing unusual was happening at all, up until the moment that Bull decided to go visit the Tal Vashoth in their tower. Even before he reached the heavy door leading to it, he could hear raised voices.

Inside he found a small group of paint-covered Tal Vashoth arguing at each other. Next to them sulked two imekari, both looking quite young and sheepish in that way children sometimes did when they didn’t regret being naughty but still didn’t appreciate being punished for it. From the gist of the conversation Bull figured that the adults, only the younger tamassran among them, didn’t know how to handle disobedient imekari. The Tal Vashoth who weren’t arguing were trying to rub paint off their faces while shooting angry glares at the imekari.

Well, that certainly explained what Sera had been laughing about earlier. She’d gone and taught the Tal Vashoth children disrespect.

The Bull bit back a grin and moved past them to the main room. A set of wooden toys were scattered on the floor where the youngest children played, and Blackwall sat on a stool away from them, visibly distraught.

“Morning,” Bull greeted him, looking about. “What brings you here?”

“Brought some toys for the little ones,” Blackwall replied, gesturing at the carved wooden toys first, and then at a rocking horse. The Bull had seen him make toys before, when he had free time, and this one was shaped like a dragon. It would be popular with the young ones, he knew that already. He half wished he had had a rocking-dragon to play with when he was an imekari himself.

Then he noticed Blackwall’s distressed expression, and clapped him on the shoulder.

“What’s the matter? I promise you the kiddies don’t bite. Worst they can do is headbutt at this point. I think you can handle it.”

Blackwall looked pained for a moment, and then sighed.

“Made a crib for the littlest one, you see,” he said, and pointed towards a beautifully crafted and sturdy looking bed, a little bigger than the crate she currently slept in. “I tried to get her moved her to it but well… the adults are busy, didn’t want to interrupt…” he gestured at the paint-covered Tal Vashoth, who were gasping in shock as one of the guilty imekari stuck her tongue out. Another habit from Sera, most likely. “And she cries the second she sees my face.”

The Bull stared at him, and then at where the baby was babbling to herself in her crate. Then he snorted.

“It’s your big beardy face! She’s never seen that much hair before. Probably thought you were a big scary bear.”

With a quick glance at the frazzled tamassran who didn’t protest at all, the Bull scooped up the baby from her bedding. She made a bubbling sound at him but otherwise didn’t protest the handling.

“Now see, there’s nothing to be afraid of! It’s just what the bas do. Grow out big shaggy beards and call it fashion.”

Blackwall tensed, ready to bolt out of the baby’s sight, and the Bull noticed the baby tense up as well as she watched Blackwall with big wide eyes. Then the man cautiously raised his hand and muttered a hesitant hello.

“Just an old warrior,” the Bull said, bouncing the baby in his arms. She stared at Blackwall for a few moments longer, babbled something incomprehensible, and turned her attention to the leather harness on the Bull’s shoulder. Apparently the patterns on the leather were more interesting than some shaggy warrior after all.

Blackwall visibly relaxed and nodded at the Bull in thanks. He moved on to setting up the cradle and moving the baby’s bedding into the new one.

The Bull grinned down at the kid, content to have a little one in his arms again. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held a child as small and fragile as this one. Usually the kids that did swarm around him were cheeky enough to try to get a rise out of him, or adventurous enough to see if they could dangle off his horns.

The baby looked up at him and smiled a big toothless grin, eyes gold and green and very large on her tiny face.

“Aren’t you just the sweetest,” the Bull cooed at her, ticking her teeny tiny nose, causing her to giggle. “You’ll be a clever little bugger, won’t you? Won’t youuuuuuuuuuu?”

He thought about how he once might have been a tamassran. He’d have raised dozens of cute little babies like this one, if that had been his path. In the end, though, he might not be where he was now, with friends and people he chose to love for himself.

“You’re real lucky,” the Bull confined in the baby, who looked up at him in fascination even though it was the rumble of his voice and not the words that interested her. “The Qun’s easier in some ways, and comfortable. But you’ll get to make real choices and have the wildest things in a chaotic bas life.”

The baby babbled at him again, but just then the tamassran stepped up to take her back for breakfast. The Bull let go of her reluctantly, missing the weight and warmth in his arms the second the baby was gone.

Blackwall was done by then too, and offered to share breakfast, so the Bull followed him out, a strange wistfulness in his chest.

*

Tama stared at her notebook and thought of leaving Skyhold come spring. It would take another month or two for the roads to be reliably clear for a small caravan and the carts that had been built with the Inquisition’s help. They had draft animals and everything they needed to set out and even start building a tiny settlement, if they found a suitable spot. Tama herself wasn’t involved in the process of picking potential areas, but her charges would occasionally approach her with maps and marked off areas that the Inquisition’s ambassador had suggested.

She was confident in most of her group being able to succeed. Some were restless and did not feel well emotionally, but Tama had hope for those few. It was difficult for the Tal Vashoth that had no real tasks in Skyhold, feeling useless and out of place. Once the snows were gone and they set out, Tama was confident in finding something for them.

Their group had changed, she noticed. There were only five imekari left that depended solely on their tamassrans, the ones who needed helping hands to dress themselves and eat and needed a watchful eye as they ran around on slippery ground. Of the ones who could at the very least take care of themselves, very few ran to Tama first when they needed something.

Within their group, smaller ones had built. The first Tama noticed was that of Vasaad and Vat, who were quite fond of each other. Vat had taken Kos under her wing quickly, and even once she saw that he didn’t need protection she still remained his caretaker. Vasaad, who had ended up getting along with Sata just as well as any bas parent and child, kept an eye out on Kos, and Sata followed suit. They had formed what Tama knew to be a typical family unit among bas without any difficulty, and she knew that there would be little guidance they would need from her.

There were others, Tal Vashoth taking imekari under their wing and taking over most of a tamassran’s duties out of fondness for the young one. Most had formed randomly, but some had happened because the older imekari wished to learn from craftspeople and feel useful and assist in work. It was an easy step from teaching your own craft to taking care of the child in other aspects. Only recently Tama had found out that this was common enough among bas as well.

Really, there was only one imekari that Tama worried for. The youngest, a baby who still relied on goat’s milk and only recently had started to learn how to sit up without any assistance. She needed the most attention, but with only two tamassrans who knew how to take care of infants, and five imekari altogether who needed constant attention, it would be difficult. If anything at all happened to the group, the baby would be the one who would suffer the most for it. Of course she had taught others how to do basic things, but there was only so much one could do. The baby would still need her tamassrans for years and years.

Their defection from the Qun had been difficult enough, but at least Tama had known then that it was a short boat ride and then a week of travel to Skyhold that the child had to endure. She didn’t relish the idea of willingly putting the baby through travel without the certainty of a good shelter. This would be fine as a last resolve, but not if Tama could help it.

There was a solution for this, of course, but Tama would need to see if her plan would work at all.

She was alone with a few napping imekari when she heard the door to their tower open and a brief howl of wind. Someone shuffled over the floorboards in the adjacent room, and soon she heard a familiar knock on the door. Tama didn’t get up when Dorian stepped inside, coat in hand and his hair a little damp from snow melting against it.

“Good day,” he greeted, bowing politely as Tama inclined her head.

She closed her book and set aside her ink and quill as Dorian approached and offered her a small bundle of papers. The writing on them was Qunlat, written in the Iron Bull’s neat handwriting, meaning that Dorian had gotten him to translate whatever information he needed the Tal Vashoth to have. Not necessary for Tama herself, but she found it a thoughtful gesture nevertheless.

“I have asked around for remedies a mage might need,” Dorian explained as Tama went through the papers. Each was labelled in use, had a list of ingredients, and then simple instructions. “There are things that help with headaches from mana exhaustion, and several burn and freeze salves I find very useful myself. Most young mages tend to injure their hands as they learn to fully control the size of spells, so young Kos and any sparring partner will be in need of these.”

Tama hummed and placed them into the notebook for medical recipes.

“I thank you.”

Dorian smiled pleasantly and looked around, fond eyes landing on the sleeping imekari in their separate corners. Tama observed him for a few moments.

“May I ask you something personal?”

“Personal? Why, of course.”

“Have you ever wished to have children?” Tama asked. She had her own observations and ideas about what people around her were like, but one could rarely just assume one was right about important things. “A family?”

Dorian was taken aback by the question, and opened his mouth in surprise. He quickly caught himself and smiled pleasantly. Deflecting.

“Ah, now that is a question. I’m afraid that it’s quite a useless thing to ask me. Back home a man with my, hm, inclinations wouldn’t have the chance to have a family in any satisfactory way. Not for a lack of wanting, just… given the situation.”

Tama frowned. She knew that Tevinter society was strange and had rules and restrictions much different from her own. There would be no accidental children between Dorian and the Iron Bull either, but that really wasn’t a problem here anyway.

“One can always adopt a child.”

The mage’s smile dropped and he watched Tama with a cautious expression. Whatever he saw in her, he seemed to relax a little.

“That too would be a little difficult in Tevinter for one is in my position. And I have never really been in a situation where I… could have wanted it. Now, however… perhaps. But this is very much hypothetical.”

“It need not be so.”

Tama looked towards where the youngest of her charges slept, and Dorian’s eyes widened.

“I will not talk around it,” Tama explained simply. “You know that I am in a difficult position in taking care of all the children that we took along. I have found… families, for most of them, which makes things much easier. However, I am facing issues in guaranteeing the youngest’s safety and comfort.”

Tama stood and walked over to the cot where the youngest slept, gazing down at the baby.

“She is the youngest and requires my constant attention at this stage. Travel will be hardest on her, when she is away from Skyhold. And there is also the matter of how likely she is to become a mage.”

Tama took a small note from her shawls, and handed it to Dorian.

“I have written down what I know of her bloodline, and nearly half of the children born from her immediate line have become saarebas. You see why I would like to entrust her to one who I know could care for her, and love her, and know what to do if she has needs I cannot help with.”

Dorian was silent for a while, watching the baby as well. He was fond of her, from what Tama could see, and didn’t fake amusement for the child’s sake. Perhaps unused to handling very little ones, but that was something most anyone could learn when the need arose.

“Are you suggesting that I adopt one of your imekari?” Dorian asked quietly. “You would honestly trust a Tevinter Altus with something like this?”

“I do not see a Tevinter,” Tama stated simply. “I see a friend of the Tal Vashoth who does more than is necessary to ensure the wellbeing of our own.”

The mage shifted in place, tension clear in his shoulders.

“There’s an ancient magister wreaking havoc in the world. Is this really a good time for a man like me to raise a child? I’m working on the front lines, in a way.”

Tama gave him a sad smile, shaking her head.

“There is never a good time to raise children in this world. But every child needs someone to raise them.”

They were silent for a while, and Tama returned to her desk.

“You do not have to agree, of course. And do not give me an answer soon. It is a decision one does not make lightly, or out of a sense of obligation. It is also something you must discuss with your mate.”

Dorian looked startled for a moment, trying to process all that Tama had said. It was probably a little surprising for him, but there was no way for her to bring it up in a way that wouldn’t take him by surprise.

“I will do this,” Dorian promised quietly. “Thank you for your trust, Tama.”

He bowed again, and Tama heard him leave. She waited for a few moments before pulling out a ledger of supplies she would need along with Dorian’s lists of remedies for Kos. She busied herself with the lists of travel supplies rather than dwelling on whether or not she had found a place for the baby. It was not her decision anymore.

Chapter Text

Cole sat cross-legged in his customary spot above the Herald’s Rest. Sera claimed that he lurked up there to poke his nose in other people’s business, but Cole was very mindful of personal space and made sure his nose never poked anyone. He simply listened to the feelings of the inhabitants of Skyhold, their emotions drifting up to him like spider threads in a breeze. Dorian’s thread in particular was a complicated knotwork and had been for some days; ever since he had received important news, he had longed to tell the Iron Bull, who had left just before for a short mission with the Chargers. The responsibility of The Question weighed Dorian down, and Cole ached with him.

There was love in it, and hope and anxiety, the deep coals of passionate love that only needed a mild breeze to fan them, the whisper soft affection that had sprung up very recently like lips on a child’s brow or the first blossoms of spring, the by now familiar knot of love and hurt and anger that coiled around Dorian’s heart like a serpent, ready to lunge and snap at anyone who dared betray the mage again.

I will be better, I must be, I will never let myself become him, Amatus will not let me become him, what if I am so weak that I justify hurting my own child just like HE thought he had to?

Cole tried to approach Dorian to provide help, offered to pick apart some of the worries for him. But Dorian politely but firmly declined, claiming that it was something he needed to talk to the Iron Bull about first. So Cole did not pry aloud, merely sat and felt, until the Iron Bull returned to the keep and Dorian followed him into their living quarters from the battlements.

Anxiety, excitement, shyness.

Cole could not hear their conversation, but he felt as they felt.

Anticipation, doubts, joy, anxiety.

Hope, self-doubt.

He stood up smoothly, and approached the door. Voices gradually became audible from within.

“-miraculously all survived this Corypheus nonsense, would you?”

“Kadan…”

“I know it’s a huge responsibility and you have your Chargers, and I wouldn’t expect you to just abandon them, and I have no savings beyond what I’ve earned through the Inquisition, so I might be quite useless in that regard, but perhaps, if you think…”

Self consciousness, fear or rejection.

“Dorian, you’re babbling.”

Fondness, adoration.

Cole could sense Dorian calming as the sound of quiet kissing reached him. Each of The Iron Bull’s kisses had a purpose, be they to charm, comfort, distract, or arouse. When Dorian’s mind worked against itself, the kiss the Iron Bull was using now was meant to soothe and quiet him and bring him back to himself.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but if fate allows us, it would be the greatest honour to raise a child by your side, Dorian.”

Relief, disbelief, joy.

The room was quiet for some time.

“What about the Chargers? You can’t really take a baby on the road while you’re hunting giants,” Dorian’s voice asked, aiming for practical but betrayed by the edge of wariness.

I don’t want to weigh you down, take you away from your other family.

Excuses to quit before it starts, self-sabotage before it has the chance to go wrong. A sharp pang of pain now to shield himself from slow agony later.

“They’ll still be my men. Krem’s been leading them pretty well while I’m on Inquisition business, when all this is done I’m thinking it might be time for him to take more control. After some planning, of course.”

“Do you think we can really do this? If everything somehow works in our favour? I mean, nothing is quite set in stone yet.”

Cole waited, and felt the combination of fear and hope emanating from both of them, hurts and regrets at the forefront of their minds, fuel for their determination to be better.

“I think it’s possible. If nothing else, the baby already likes us.”

Our baby.

“It’s legitimately unfair how attractive you already look when you’re holding her. You’re going to be insufferable if you become all domestic and parental too.”

Distraction, to manage the waves and waves of joy bubbling up.

“Oh, you have a thing for me being domestic?” The Iron Bull chuckled. Make him laugh, he’s scared of this new possibility, take him down familiar territory, even though everything will change nothing will change between us. “Imagine me gardening, putting up shelves, warming baby bottles, singing lullabies, changing nappies-”

“Well now you’ve ruined it. Go back to the part about putting up shelves.”

“Chopping firewood?”

“Hm, better.”

Their voices became too low to hear, words murmured into each other’s ears or necks or palms. When the feelings of the room turned to those of pleasure, brightened by cautious joy, Cole slipped away with a smile. The threads of both his friends still had tangles, hurts from long ago and worries of what would come, but there were fewer than before.
I love you, I’m so lucky, you give me courage.

*

The tents of the Inquisition camp were built against a tall formation of rocks, shielding them against wind from three sides, but also having the unfortunate side effect of everything being much too close together and full of snow. At least it wasn’t a proper storm, as Dorian had been told, and even he had to admit that the snowflakes falling down seemed comparatively peaceful. What had become of him, that he could appreciate horrid weather because he now knew how bad it could truly get? He supposed he could complain a bit extra in the morning about the food to make up for it.

At the very least, his shared tent with the Bull was warm, kept so by a small hearth that Bull fed with dried wood and Dorian with subtle spells, and the bulk of his lover against his side. It was a large tent to accommodate the Iron Bull’s set of horns, and Eliana had happily given up her usual bigger tent for the two of them. Vivienne had berated her for handing over something that was clearly marked as the Herald’s personal property, but in the end everyone had agreed that the snow would cover the Inquisition’s crest anyway, so it didn’t matter after all. Neither of the women minded sharing a smaller tent, and everyone agreed that Bull needed the big one more for his comfort than anyone else did.

The two mage women had retired quite a while ago, probably discussing how their business in Val Royaux had gone. They had made the trek through snow and wind to reach one of Vivienne’s smaller properties, to get ready to arrive in style, as if they hadn’t been waist deep in snow on occasion. The snow got even worse on the way back, and everyone missed Vivienne’s warm house now.

Dorian toyed with one of the buckles of his small personal bag, sitting right by his pillow. It was usually for keeping a book or two, perhaps a flask of wine or dried fruit that Sera had started giving him. Today it contained small parcels with gifts he had purchased in a market in Val Royaux.

“Are you still sure it’s something you want?” Dorian asked quietly.

He had told the Bull about what Tama had offered, about the vague possibility of making hesitant wishes a reality. It seemed so strange to him now, that the sweet little baby girl he sometimes held in his arms could be his. His and the Bull’s. Now that the initial joy and excitement had worn off, the worry about practicality had settled in.

The Bull didn’t say anything for a while, staring up at the ceiling of the tent.

“Because I lived under the Qun for so long,” the Bull said quietly, “sometimes I feel like it’s still not available to me. That my role doesn’t match up. I was raised as a warrior, seems like a bad idea trusting me with a kid. Teaching it how to live a good life, despite everything I ’ve done. But I don’t think you’d let me make a mistake. I suppose if you of all people think me worthy of it, I couldn’t do too badly.”

Dorian huffed.

“You really think too highly of my ability to keep you in check. This honour will surely go to your Chargers.”

He didn’t need to turn around to know that the Bull was smiling fondly, thinking about his boys. Even with how rough and brutish his mercenary band was, Dorian imagined that combined, they would make a perfect parental unit.

“But would you be fine if she turns out…” Dorian paused, thinking of how to word his fear. “Like me?”

The pillows rustled as the Bull looked over as much as he could with his horn digging into the ground. He didn’t say anything so Dorian nudged his bag and sighed. There were a few small toys, dolls and tools in there, gifts for the Tal Vashoth he knew best. It seemed strange to gift things to them, but it would have felt wrong to come back from Orlais empty handed, as he hadn’t ventured into proper towns in far too long. The prettiest of all was a small writing set wrapped in soft leather. It was sturdy and could be wrapped up tight, with space for several utensils and an inkpot. He hoped that it would be useful to Tama.

“A mage.”

“Why would I mind if she’s a mage?” the Bull asked with a laugh. “You are one, and I don’t mind you.”

“There is quite a difference with being fine with things in general, and being fine with your child doing these things. I don’t want either of us turning out to be like...” Dorian trailed off, but Bull could practically hear the unsaid phrase my own father.

There was silence for a while and Dorian tried to resent the comforting hand on his shoulder. He kept thinking that he had outgrown the need to be pitied and comforted for his own family situation, after getting drunk with Eliana and the Bull’s initial embraces and reassurances. Still he felt a pang of gratitude every time either of them showed sympathy.

“I have known too many mages to reject my own imekari,” Bull promised, his stumpy fingers rubbing soothingly against Dorian’s shoulder. “You have seen Tal Vashoth who have feared saarebas for all their lives get over all their judgement, for the sake of a child they chose. I think I can do the same for a child I help raise.”

Dorian let out a small sigh of relief. He knew that Bull wouldn’t be like that, that he was one of the most accepting people he’d ever met. But still the worry persisted.

“Maybe I’ll need some help figuring out how to take care of a mage child,” Bull admitted, “but I can do this.”

“You’ll do better with that than I will do with a toddler,” Dorian huffed. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

The Bull laughed at him, and he sounded more relaxed now, giddy with anticipation.

“Don’t worry, it’s pretty easy to learn. Knowing tamassrans, Tama will teach you before you do anything else.”

Dorian smiled and closed his eyes to settle deeper into his blankets. Something in his chest felt too big to contain, and the thought of having a family that he could never have dreamt of in Tevinter was more than he could grasp.

As he was dozing off against the warmth of the Bull, one of the Bull’s fingers poked at his side.

“What were you like as a kid? Somehow I can’t picture you without a moustache.”

Dorian snorted. “The moustache was a relatively recent addition, in actuality I was regretfully bare-faced until my twenties. No, I was informed that as a child I was a terror, and would beg the servants for piggyback rides and draw buttocks on manuscripts that lacked enough pictures for my tastes. One time I brought home a snake from the garden to keep as a pet, and when I got caught I tried to pass it off as a very realistic piece of arm jewellery. You must understand of course that I must claim such behaviour as a scandalous falsehood.”

The Bull was wheezing, trying to muffle his laughter into his hand, and Dorian swatted at him with a grin.

“Oh, you would have made Sera proud, Kadan.”

*

Just as the Bull predicted, Tama immediately set to prepare him and Dorian for parental care when they told her of their decision. Nothing was final yet, but the Bull enjoyed taking care of the tiny squirming creature for an entire afternoon and showing Dorian how to best hold her as she drank from her bottle. She was a strong and clever baby, and by the end of the day the Bull was sure that Tama thought the two of them good caregivers.

“I can’t believe that I could really be a father,” Dorian said he paced around the Bull’s room with nervous energy. It was the bigger of their private spaces, larger by far than Dorian’s room, and now both were making notes of what would need to be changed to welcome a baby into their life come spring. For one, the structural integrity of the walls would have to be checked.

“You still have time to back out,” Bull pointed out. Nothing had been decided for sure yet; they would need to make sure that this is a suitable home for her first.

“Nonsense,” Dorian snapped back. “She’s practically a Pavus already!”

Things had to be discussed with the Inquisitor first, of course. While Bull liked to think that Eliana’s opinion didn’t really matter, he knew that one word from the boss would make him give up on his dream of a little family. He also knew that she wouldn’t tell him to. Not at the Storm Coast, and not now.

There was some surprised muttering, when Dorian and Bull brought the issue up before the advisors. Leliana predictably said that it would be dangerous to have a family in the current wartime climate, but Josephine reasoned that Skyhold was currently the most secure place, and promised to set aside anything they might need. For most of the conversation Cullen simply stood and gaped in shock, but in the end managed to gather his wits together enough to promise them help in practical matters. He’d grown up with siblings, and knew a thing or two about children.

It was strange to be pulled into a hug by a lanky Elven woman together with Dorian, but Eliana congratulated them both sincerely.

The Bull noticed upon leaving the war room that now that his plans with Dorian were known, Cullen kept sneaking glances at their Inquisitor with a blush and rubbing the back of his neck.
Feeling a bit domestic yourself, Commander? He thought with a twitch of his lips.
With that the matter was settled, and the news spread rapidly.

The Bull told his Chargers first.

“Dorian and I are gonna have a baby!”

He was met with silence and dubious glances at his stomach before it clicked and the realization hit that he was talking about adoption. Perhaps he should have brought it up first since they were all deep in their cups.

What followed was a rain of food thrown at his head (badly aimed) and enthusiastic cheers.

“Always knew you’d make a good mother,” Krem slurred, aiming for Bull’s elbow with his hand and managing to pat it despite how much ale he’d had. “Y’got the biiiiiiig...snuggle tits for sleepy babies.” This time he poked at the Bull’s chest and bumped his head against the Bull’s shoulder with a snicker.

When Sera found out, she blew raspberries at him and proclaimed that children were snotty horrid yelling machines, but also told him that he’d be as good as anyone. Blackwall promised to make whatever furniture they would need, and Vivienne simply hummed thoughtfully and said that she herself wouldn’t enjoy parenthood but was confident that Bull and Dorian would do well. He could tell that she had more opinions on the matter but was politely restraining herself.

If anyone at all had anything bad to say about his decision, they didn’t say so where the Bull could hear it. Dorian hadn’t gotten any rude remarks either so far.

“If that didn’t ruin my reputation, I would say that everyone here thinks I’m good with kids. Or they’ve been listening to the story Varric’s been telling about how I defeated those red templars in the Emerald Graves, and they’re worried I’ll turn them into frogs,” Dorian told him as the baby sat on his lap, clumsily clutching at a book on his desk. Her little hands tore the pages, and the Bull’s eye widened in panic, but Dorian smiled indulgently and patted his hand as if everything were under control.

“And how right you are, little one! Sister Reine’s account of Tevinter history isn’t even fit to be a napkin for you.” He turned to The Bull with a smirk. “You didn’t think I’d let her near my books did you?” He petted the baby’s downy hair as she flung a torn scrap to the table with delight. “This little thing is helping with the overall quality of Skyhold’s library.”

A week after the decision was made, it was agreed that the baby should sleep in the Bull and Dorian’s room. For one night at least, just to make sure she was comfortable around them, and that she wouldn’t get startled too badly by waking up to a new set of caretakers. She already knew both the Bull and Dorian, but they’d rather have Tama nearby just in case. Best to leave the baby to get used to her new family gradually.

The Bull carefully wrapped the baby in blankets and laid her in her cradle when it was time to sleep, warm and content in their room. Outside it was dark despite the early evening, and snow covered every inch of the Keep except the busiest walkways. They had changed and fed the baby in the tower the Tal Vashoth inhabited, and had brought her over already sleepy. She hadn’t complained at all about not being put to bed by Tama, blinking sleepily up at her new parents.

Now they were sitting a little distance away from the cot to not disturb her sleep, but close enough to watch over her. The Bull felt a deep sense of peace in his bones, and Dorian looked relaxed but contemplative.

“We should name her,” he said after a while, voice hushed though they both knew the baby could and would sleep through the chatter and noise of a full room.

The Bull thought about this for a moment.

“We don’t know what she’s like yet,” he pointed out.

“Of course, but we don’t need to give her a name based on what she is. Sometimes names express hopes and dreams a parent has for what the child will be.”

They were quiet for a bit, before Dorian glanced up at the Bull.

“Since you have no last name it stands to reason that she will be a Pavus. It would only be fair for you to pick a name. Something in Qunlat perhaps?”

The baby slept as the two men watched her silently, and the Bull mulled over what he would want her to be like, what this meant for him. Then finally he nodded.

“Talan,” he said, and Dorian tried the name out on his tongue.

“What does it mean?” asked Dorian

“Truth.”

Dorian considered this, then nodded and took the Bull’s hand. “Have sweet dreams, Talan,” he told their daughter, and that night all three of them did.

*

Tama sat at the back of one of the carts her people had built during the winter, tall and aware of the way light caught on her new silver horn cap. It was a masterwork, truly, and weighed just as much as her old broken horn had before. Around her the imekari were excited and rushing between the three major carts, which would carry the smallest of them as well as their things and provide rest without needing to stop. Massive nugalopes stood ready to pull the carts, and some more were ridden by the warriors of the group.

There were a few humans and elves nearby, talking to the Tal Vashoth, some looking quite upset by the imminent parting. It was spring now, with the trees starting to sprout the first leaves of the year and snow being unlikely to hit during the time it the group would need to cross the mountains. There really was no use in staying in Skyhold any longer, but Tama was pleased that her people had managed to form bonds with outsiders so easily. It would benefit them in the future, to be able to do so.

Of the people in her group Vasaad and Kos were the most reluctant to leave. Vasaad had enjoyed his stay a lot, learning from the human warriors and about life as a mercenary as well as he could. He’d always been too curious about bas and their way of living to do well in the Qun forever, Tama supposed. And Kos was bidding goodbye to the mages who had taught him before, promising to study and make good use of the books he had been given. He was also clutching a staff that had been fashioned specifically for him, a little tall perhaps, but he would grow into it.

The final supplies were packed into the carts and Tama looked up to see the unlikely pair near the gates. The Iron Bull had a sling around his chest, attached to his harness, with the tiny baby girl in it. They had named her Talan, and she looked quite content where she was. In the last month of winter she’d slept in her new family’s room every night, and by now Tama was certain that her decision had been correct. She watched as Dorian stroked over Talan’s cheek, making her giggle, then spoke to his mate quietly.

What a strange little group they were. A tall scarred former Ben Hassrath, with a sharp calculating core under the soft layers of jovial laughter and kindness, his mate a Tevinter mage from the same stock that ordered attacks on Seheron. He had an air of arrogance about him but Tama had seen his sweetness in how he treated the imekari around him. And between them a girl who had still been a Qunari less than half a year ago when her tamassran decided that she could no longer follow the Qun. They were perhaps the best combination she could hope for in raising Talan.

The carts were about to set out when the Iron Bull and Dorian stepped up to her and Tama turned towards them.

“We will write,” the Iron Bull promised. “To let you know that everything is alright.”

“Good. Keep me updated,” Tama said. Then she looked at her former charge. “And you be good.”

The Iron Bull smiled brightly and Dorian bowed his head respectfully.

“I must thank you again for giving us this chance to take care of Talan. We will do our best for her.”

“I know you will,” Tama said and allowed herself a soft smile. It was strange to think that this man was an enemy of her old people, as now she would be quite pleased if the imekari she raised turned out like him.

A shout from the head of the caravan alerted them to the impending movement.

“Safe travels,” the Iron Bull said.

“I thank you for your generosity,” Tama replied.

The Iron Bull gave a little wave and very gently took Talan’s hand to wave it for her. The baby gurgled, not sure of what was going on but enjoying it nevertheless.

Tama smiled at her, and then the carriage was out of the gate already. There was nothing certain anymore, but in her heart Tama knew that she hadn’t failed the youngest in her care. That she was finally truly doing what the imekari around her needed, and not what the Qun wished.

Soon Skyhold was only a small grey mass atop the mountain, and she turned around, looking down the mountain path and over her Tal Vashoth towards their future.

Chapter Text

“Honourable Tamassran,

I hope this letter finds you well. We have received news of the contracts you have struck with the town of Thennedal, and I am pleased to hear that the common folk of Ferhelden have accepted you so. They do not warm up to strangers quickly, in my experience, but recognize hard and honest workers when they see them. Our lady ambassador has informed us that she put in a good word with the local Arl, and that he is pleased with the trade and hired muscle your Tal Vashoth have provided so far. By the time this harvest season is over you will be seen as good friends by the nearest villagers, I am certain of it. Do not hesitate to write if you need any kind of assistance.

You wished to be kept updated on Talan’s growth. She is doing well, and is growing at a normal rate, as the Iron Bull assured me. I have no experience in the development of your people’s children, but Talan can already crawl quite quickly and pull herself upright with suitable support. So far, I haven’t observed her attempting to walk by herself, but I doubt that she sees the need in anything more efficient than crawling, as she can be hard to chase down. She seems quite fond of the bland porridge we have started giving her for breakfast, though this will no doubt prepare her for the bland food of the South that we adults must also consume. And I have been repeatedly reassured that any troubles, pains and aches she feels are normal for an infant. I do hope so, as it is quite worrying to see her cry, for which thankfully she has little reason.

While caring for infants is not something I ever thought to develop skills in, I find myself learning fast. The Iron Bull possesses much more talent for it, but that was to be expected. He is quite fond of-”

Peals of laughter interrupted Dorian and he paused, looking up from his letter.

The window that had replaced the hole in the wall was open to let in crisp autumn air, and created a spot of warm sunlight on the rug by the bed. The Bull was lying back on it, his good leg raised up, to let a tiny giggling toddler straddle it.

As Dorian watched the Iron Bull made a roaring sound and gently tossed Talan up into the air, barely enough for her body to leave the reach of his fingertips. She screamed with joy and clapped her tiny hands together as her new tama did the same thing again, holding her high over his torso.

Dorian smirked at them fondly and turned his attention back to his letter.

*

(A crumpled up paper, tucked away in Cole's personal box of keepsakes. All of the text is crossed out, as if the writer was frustrated. Several splotches of ink stain it)

Dear Father-

Father-

Magister Pavus-

Halward-

Father,

I originally did not intend to share this news with you, as it is an aspect of my life which I wanted to cherish as wholley my own without your mark upon it. But I thought it was worth sharing, as it has been such a wonder. I have a daughter. She is like a ray of sunlight upon this wretched world. To think, at one point I thought none of this possible, back in Tevinter. I doubt it would be possible still, but we are happy enough here. My amatus is wonderful with her, and far more adept at parenthood than I was to begin with, and I count myself lucky every day that I have them both. You saw him once, in Redcliffe, when you-

You’ll be happy to know that she might become a mage. And even if she doesn’t, we will teach her the theories of magic nonetheless. If you hadn’t messed up your chances with me then you might have gained an heir after all-

There were good times, I know. I think about them sometimes. I know you and mother were proud of me, and loved me, in your own way before I grow out of my chosen mold. I want my child to love and respect me the way I did you, before I knew what kind of man you are. Only she will never have to face the disappointment of-

I will never let her down as you did me-

Damn you. I hate how compelled I am to boast of my happiness to you, out of spite. I am disgusted that I want my successes known for the scorn of our carefully maintained family lineage. Yet here I am, doing just that. Using my own child like that, as my own fodder for a cheap sting. Am I never to be free of the pain you caused me? I hope she never has to meet you, and can live her life never knowing the anguish you put me through-

I wish you could meet her. She would melt your heart, even though she is a qunari. She sits with me when I write, book in her lap, and pretends to understand the words on the pages, just like I used to do in your study-

Do you even care? I-

(The letter trails off, unsigned)

*

“Krem-Puff,

I see you’ve been busy with the Chargers since you took over the reigns. Look at you go, taking down that wyvern hive like that, badass! Give my compliments to Dalish for her quick thinking, lightning as a distraction in close quarters like that is risky but that Special Archery never fails to get results.

It’s been kind of weird settling down more permanently; never thought I’d ever do it, to be honest. It wasn’t really ever something I could let myself think about. But it’s good here, and I can honestly say that there’s never a dull moment. Oh, remember that thing you joked about with carrying Talan around on my head between my horns? Well, turns out that these bad boys are perfect for kid-carrying and it’s her favorite spot now. Plus it leaves my hands free.

Talan was asking if her “Unka Messes” can send her another winged nug. (That’s you, by the way, Uncle Cremisius. I don’t even have to put in work coming up with new nicknames for you these days, she does it all for me). She won’t go to sleep at night without all of your gift nugs in the bed with her. Dorian has to go back to Tevinter sooner than we thought, some family bullshit to sort out, and a bit of politics with Maevaris. Even if I hadn’t hated the Vints beforehand (present reader excluded) I hate them for keeping a hold over his mind and his sense of obligation after all this time. But it’s my place to support him, not get in his way. (Even so, I’m allowed to feel a little selfish right? Fuck. I might need a round with the Feelings Stick if you’re up for it when you return).

The three of us have been practicing together talking through his sending crystal, in different rooms of the house, getting her used to it. I know what it’s like to be apart from Dorian for months at a time, but she doesn’t. Anyway, she wants him to take a nug with him so he doesn’t get lonely without her. Figured an extra special nug for her will cheer her up while he’s gone. Oh, and maybe give it a moustache. AND while you’re still in Orlais, could you bring back some of those candied nuts? You know the ones that are cooked in the spices before the sugar? Love those tasty little bastards.

I’ve looked over the designs you sent for a group uniform and I’m rather impressed. I’ve made a few alteration suggestions (see attached) but on the whole I think…

*

“-let Kos know that this will require some practice but is not something to worry about. Of course it is admirable that he is concerned for his brother’s safety in sparring, but please let him know that mages and warriors spar often and safely. He is unlikely to do permanent damage to Sata. Perhaps it would be good to see any accidental injury as part of the exercise, rather than something inherent to magic. It is just the same as hitting your friend with your shield and knocking them back too hard, or smacking a training axe against a weak spot in the armour. If he is too worried, it might be good to find an experienced mage of the Inquisition to oversee the sparring and give advice. I am sure there are some stationed close to your village.

The Iron Bull has also asked me to include a request in my next letter. Talan will soon be growing to the age where her horns will come in, according to him, and he remembers how uncomfortable that experience was to this day. He also recalls a soothing balm his own tamassran used to apply to his head, and wishes to know if you have a recipe that can work with whatever ingredients are available in the south.

We are also slowly considering to leave Skyhold, now that the Inquisition’s main task has been dealt with. There is not so much to do here anymore, and there are better places to build a home with a child. When the time comes I will make sure to tell you our new location so that your letters can reach us.”

A small hand tugged at Dorian’s robe and he glanced down to see Talan stare up at him. Her hair was a mess, likely Sera’s fault, and the spring’s new blossoms were stuck in what was left of the tiny braids Bull had tried to tame her hair with. It was too short to do much with yet.

“Up, dadda, up,” Talan announced, waving her hands in a peculiar motion.

“Well, if you insist,” Dorian smiled indulgently, and mimicked the motion she had made.

A small swirl of energy rose up around the little girl and with a giggle her feet left the ground. Very gently she was lifted up and set down on the heavy desk. Dorian only did it when nobody outside his close friends were around, as Dorian didn’t want to test the southerners around him too much. He was a hero in their eyes now, but casual use of magic still unnerved many people.

Talan was blissfully unaware of that problem, and she scooted away from the edge of the table, as Bull had taught her. She also knew to leave Dorian’s writing alone, no longer trying to pat the wet ink. Instead Talan pulled one of the smaller tomes on his desk closer and opened it. She studied the runes on the page with a serious expression, marvelling at the bright colours and illustrations.

Dorian smiled at her, and put his letter away for now.

“Do you want me to read to you?” he asked. They had quickly discovered that Talan loved listening to even the most dull stories if Dorian read them with an animated tone of voice. Of course she preferred illustrated books most days, but sometimes story time with papa was enough for her.

“Yes,” Talan said firmly, one of the first words she knew how to use without fail. Well, that and “Never!” if faced with bedtime that seemed too early in her opinion.

“Then settle down, and I’ll tell you all about the basic properties of veilfire runes,” Dorian chuckled and pulled up the tome.

*

“I cannot thank you enough for your birthday present, Maevaris! I’m certain that the entire family is beside itself with joy. Bull couldn’t get over how pretty the dragon bone is, and Talan of course, just wanted a staff.

You can’t imagine what a relief it was to find what you had sent. Talan showed signs of magic in her so close to her birthday, there simply was no way I could have made it to Minrathous and back on time. I simply couldn’t have her first staff be something of subpar quality, and I couldn’t very well entrust something so important as my daughter’s first staff to somebody else. I very nearly had to resign myself to her birthday present not being perfect this year. So really, my dear, you are a lifesaver.

And you should see her! Barely a few months into her training and she’s already getting such a solid grasp of spirit magic. I’m trying to be slow in teaching her anything that is hard to control and can cause damage to surrounding areas, but she can already generate heat. I am confident that she will be able to use basic fire spells by the time you visit.

I couldn’t be more proud, Mae, I didn’t dare hope that she would really be a mage. It still seems so odd to me, to see Vashoth mages after all, but she is studious and absolutely a natural. A true Pavus. I can’t wait to teach her everything I know and help her figure out what sort of specialisations to focus on once she is older.

Hurry up with beating down the nonsense in the Magisterium and visit us as soon as you can! With luck, you’ll be here at the same time as Varric...”

*

“Hello Tama!

How are you, how’s everyone in the village? Sata wrote me but I think he didn’t wait long enough for the ink to dry, because half of it is really smudged.

I know it’s probably silly to write you when we are set to visit so very soon. We’ll be staying with Uncle Cullen and Auntie Eli for a bit, and the twins promised we’ll be hunting for wild honey. I already learned which spells work best for bee stings just in case, but I’m not scared of them. I don’t know if we’ll go somewhere else first or visit you right after, but we’ll see each other soon. Please make those little fried cakes you made last time we visited! They are super yummy, even better than when we make them with what daddy calls “othentak ingreedyants.”

But I wanted to write you because I want to say thank you. Tama Bull told me a bit about grandfather, and I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking about it so much. He was really mean to daddy once, and daddy was so sad he ran away from home, all the way to Ferelden. I looked on the map and it’s really far. And grandfather tried to fix it later but I know it still makes daddy sad to think about it. And I was thinking, my own dads would never be mean to me. They’ve never been, even if they are mad at me or I’m mad at them. I’m mostly mad because I’m angry if they’re right about things and I don’t want them to be. And I know the twins said it can be weird having a human parent and a not human parent, but Tama Bull isn’t human and they always made sure I’m happy.

I’m really happy, Tama. That’s what I want to say. I know I was born in the Qun, but I don’t remember it. And I know you brought me away from them. So I wanted to say thank you! Because I’m happy and I love daddy and my tama a lot, and I wouldn’t have met them if you hadn’t introduced us. I know you would have raised me if not, and I love you a lot. But I really like having my dads too.

I’ll see you soon, and I’m really excited to see everyone else again too!

Yours,

Talan.”