Chapter Text
A report had come while Bull was still working with Fisher. Coming a couple months after his escapades following a visit to a brothel(called Over the River.) A result and an order. The woman was pregnant and keeping the kid, and Bull would not engage with the mom or kid unless left without a choice. The Qun didn’t have parents and Bull had a duty, so Bull gave a solid nod and continued forward. Reasoning the mom wouldn’t waste her energy chasing down a mercenary. The chances of the kid ever meeting Bull were slim.
That was eighteen years out of his mind and a mercenary company of his own later, that Bull received a new order. That he would spy on the newly budded Inquisition by guarding their Herald.
Of course Ben Hassrath sent in dossiers. Bull knew that his bosses in the Qun knew he was far from stupid. Taking some purposeful gaps in the information and to disregard an eighteen year no contact rule into account. Bull knew it was his kid.
Bull was no father and didn’t know how to be. And he was a spy for the Qun. Besides, the kid had come this far without him. Fortunately Bull just had to do his work, to do this job right. Not be a dad.
Bull mentally layed out all he knew about the Herald of Andraste (Who was only a week behind Krem). Simply known as Cal Bellcourt.
There was little detail in actual reports of Cal outside of Jader or even their home and the brothel. Could be mom’s tight grip on her kid or Cal was content. No present or official combat training. Not a soldier, spy, or political figure in any capacity. So why were they at the Conclave of all places? Bull speculated that it could’ve been a case of wanderlust placing them in the wrong place at the worst time.
Cal’s mother, Rozsa Bellcourt, came from drunks who drank to a house name generations in the slums. Rosza was ambitious and ended up as a madam and owner of her own-succesful-brothel, Busy Boots. Rosze didn’t want the life she had growing up for Cal no doubt, and Jader’s shantytowns would inspire any child to stay close to home of luxury.
The little Bull had to go off on was enough.
Sheltered, naive, and inexperienced. Could possibly be a bit of a spoiled brat even. Though Bull knew he could sell the Bull’s Chargers and himself well enough to the kid. If anybody needed an extra sword, it was no doubt them.
The scene was set the day Cal and their entourage came, the Tevinter raiders were scouted days ago and the Chargers engaged in an upfront charge. Bull wanted to see how-or even if-Cal had a heart and head for a fight. What Bull ended up seeing was his kill reeling back with a sword in hand one moment, then limp as a halberd’s blade topped his head.
A runtish qunari (very human in the face) with horns as long as their arms that curled up, stood at the giving end of the halberd. Barely reaching Bull’s chest with their horns, smaller than the fortress who was no doubt the Seeker. With a sharp smile and tilt of their mohawk, Cal squinted up at Bull. A tug and wet thunk, yanked their weapon from the ‘vint’s head. Greeting Bull with a raspy mix of ferelden and orlesian accent, like they weren’t in the middle of a fight.
Saying, “I’m Cal, you’re The Iron Bull, yeah?”
And Cal whirled around, halberd striking the stomach of an enemy who thought they were sneaking up on the tiny herald. Bull went high as Cal went low, using their weight to hoist the poor bastard up. His head rolled as Cal shoved the body off their weapon. Throwing themselves into the fight. Taking the heat off of the orlesian mage as they bullied and pushed off the raiders. Engaging only in a killing blow when there was a clear shot or the enemy’s guard was let down. Putting their body and blade where it was counted. Even for his boys.
Then as quickly as the fight broke out, the raiders were laid flat and Krem reported. Eyes quietly going from Cal and Bull, that if Bull was anybody else he wouldn’t have seen the cogs churning in Krem’s head.
Cal approached, spitting off to the side. Sizing Bull up with a curious cock of the head.
Bull could only chuckle, “To answer your question kid, yeah, I’m The Iron Bull.”
A beat.
Cal barked out a pitched laugh, “Well, I’m the Iron Cal-f then!”
Bull blinked, this was definitely his kid.