Chapter Text
The Storm Coast was magnificent, even at the worst of times, which the Inquisitor was inclined to believe she lived in. A storm had moved in during an assignment, starting with a light rain that she’d ignored until too late. The rain hadn’t bothered her search for herbs. It was little more than an errand to gather them, one more thing that needed doing. She’d planned on exploring some of the caves while there, but hadn’t brought an entire crew, figuring on fleeing if she encountered worse than a stray bandit.
The storm was whipping raindrops into painful bites, the wind howling along the coast when she finally found a cave to take shelter in. Free of everything, including light, she forced a small stream of lightning along the length of her staff so she could explore the mouth of the dank cave.
A boot caught her attention and she followed the length of leg to find the bloodied corpse of a Qunari woman, dead spider husks all around, knife still in hand. The Inquisitor murmured a prayer for her.
A small movement caught her attention and she crouched, pushing the body up to see better. The tiny Vashoth was swaddled in rough cloth, half hidden under the dead body of its mother. Small horns were budding on the babe's head, its skin red underneath the silvery flush.
The Inquisitor gathered up the child, looking back at the woman. "Look at you," she cooed when the child began to fuss. "Shh. All's well. Where are the rest of your people?" The woman might have been Tal-Vashoth, but even then, she wouldn't travel alone. The Storm Coast was too dangerous.
Of course, the elf was also alone, but that, she decided, was different. There were probably scouts everywhere, watching her. She rose, gently rocking the baby...boy, she discovered, peeking at his diaper. She made her way back to the mouth of the cave, scanning the distance for signs of one such scout. She'd need an escort back to Skyhold.
***
The Iron Bull had made his peace with the fact that his role in the Qun was to act as the voice of “don’t walk over the edge of the cliff” for the Inquisitor. Unfortunately, it was difficult to act as that Voice when the Inquisitor insisted on finding those cliffs by herself. She always said afterwards that she was trying to avoid causing trouble for her companions. Considering the amount of time Bull spent coordinating his spies to go after her and to try and clear out anything dangerous that she might happen to stumble upon, Bull wished she would spare him the consideration. Krem always said that Bull was like a mother hen with one missing chick while she was gone, but Bull knew it was more complicated than fearing for her safety.
The fact that the Boss didn’t consider the logistical effects of her leaving was a major, exploitable weakness.
It was the one thing both he and Hawke agreed on.
The fact that the Boss didn’t consider the personal effects of her leaving…
Well, that was one of the reasons, despite a fairly straightforward declaration of his feelings, that Bull wasn’t advancing the relationship side of their relationship.
Bull knew how he felt. He knew how the Inquisitor thought she felt.
He needed to see some awareness that she knew how other people felt before he proceeded any further.
Normally, Bull would let her proceed on these kinds of “solo” missions by herself. Unfortunately, his most recent scout had told him that they’d barely managed to clean out a wasp’s nest of Vint slavers who had nearly wiped out the remainder of the Valo-kas mercenary troop. The Valo-kas'd had a shitty run of luck between the Conclave and this latest mess. Bull had liked Adaar the one time they met and he hoped that she was one of the ones who’d survived the encounter. More importantly, if the Vints had wiped out one of the best troops he’d ever met, the Storm Coast was no place for his Boss to be running solo.
Which was why Bull was fighting his way through rain as thick as a dwarf’s arse-hair and trying to remember all the reasons he loved the Boss.
As a tree nearly came down on top of his head, Bull hoped that it was too wet for the Inquisitor to find herself a cliff.
***
Scout Harding had responded to the Inquisitor's message, slogging through the mess of the coast to find her. The crows could be counted on to track and backtrack, but only if you could see the things. She'd had to turn around more than once, which was how she came upon the slaughtered remains of the Valo-Kas crew. She sucked in a breath and went through the grisly task of finding out what she could, piecing together the attack. An ambush, a nasty, long fight. A trail of blood.
She was practically to the Inquisitor's cave when she spotted The Iron Bull. Knowing he'd be a better escort than her, she cut across to meet him, making sure to make enough noise that she announced her arrival.
"Sir!" She shouted over the storm to catch his attention. Her report was succinct: the Inquisitor's request for an escort, her location, the ambushed mercenary company, and the signs that the company had a child with them, but no child had been with the bodies.
"If you'll see to the Inquisitor, I can start a search for the child," Harding told him, offering a short salute when he dismissed her. She faded back into the wilderness with more stealth than she'd arrived in.
It was the singing that caught Bull by the horns.
Third cave he’d explored when he’d heard it, somehow audible even through the heavy rain. He’d followed it like a man possessed, half-convinced he’d finally been caught by a desire demon. When he stood in the entrance of the fourth cave, his world dizzily spun and re-centered.
The Boss was always in motion, always animated. To see her so still, so focused- it tapped something Bull hadn’t even known he wanted. He closed his eyes again, letting the music wash over him.
The Inquisitor had made herself into a nest, the child content in her crossed legs. She'd watched her clan's youth when she was younger, had memories of mothers holding their babes in their lap while repairing sails or mending clothes. She had nothing else but the babe to focus on and so she sang old songs to it, tickling the tiny horns and feet as she did.
The gurgle pulled Bull abruptly to attention.
It had been dark and he’d been distracted, but that was no excuse for missing-
Bull’s eyes widened further. The last time he’d seen that look on the Boss’ face was when she’d found herself a pet baby dragon. She’d obviously cut out the dragon part this time.
“No,” he whispered, even as the Boss –finally- looked up towards him. The baby gurgled again and the Boss’ bright, brilliant smile didn’t so much shatter Bull’s resistance, as smother it into a whimpering death.
The sight of her bent over a small figure with horns, rocking and cooing… Bull’s stomach lurched unpleasantly. He thought of Adaar. He thought of the Valo-kas. He thought of Tama, eyes wide and sad.
He didn’t see any way this wasn’t going to end badly.
It was impossible not to look at the tiny boy and not see Bull's features in the little face, feel the ghost of his great strength in the tiny grip. A harmless daydream, the Inquisitor convinced herself. Something given to any woman in love.
The sound of a branch breaking made her look up. The daydream lingered in her smile, as she gathered the boy and tucked her legs up to allow room for Bull's bulk. "His mother..." She frowned, shook her head. "Caretaker? Is dead." She nodded to the back of the cave. "Did you see his people? They must be looking for him."
She rose to show him the boy, smiling at the small sounds the child made upon the sight of Bull. "He's too small," she said quietly, busing the babe between his budding horns. "Is he supposed to be so small?"
Bull moved to the back of the cave as the Boss spoke, scouting for additional danger and-
He dropped to his knees beside the body. Gently, respectfully, he slid her eyelids closed, his head bowing slightly.
So much for Adaar.
Pregnant. So that’s why she hadn’t gone to the Conclave with the rest of the Valo-kas elite. This was an entirely different thing now than before. There were debts owed from that time she’d stepped in to help the Chargers and Bull always repaid his debts. He had a responsibility to see that her son was safe and cared for.
Now how much of that to tell the Boss?
He looked back at her, trying to show off the Kid to him and carefully thought through his words.
“Probably a week or two at most, Boss. He’s a good size for that age. Going to need milk soon although he can probably feed himself in a pinch, if you’ve got some meat. His mother was a mean, tough piece-of-work-”
Bull paused, a brief shadow of regret and admiration passing over his face. “Kid’s got to be tough as dragon hide.”
He rose to his feet, deliberately not looking back at the body. “Don’t know how much of his family is left, but we’ll have to not get him killed in the meantime.”
Bull hadn’t meant to say ‘we’.
Bull had no intention of getting involved with anything that couldn’t speak and stab things.
As the Kid reached towards him, gurgling, Bull furrowed his face into a fierce frown for one of the most deadly enemies he’d ever encountered.
The babe reached out to grab at Bull's fierce face, gurgling in a definite lack of fear. The Inquisitor breathed out a laugh at the child's reaction, taking and kissing the tiny hand before looking around.
"We'll take him to Skyhold," she said, handing him the boy carefully before heading back into the cave. "I'll send the scouts out, have them search the Coast."
She drew her knife and tore a long strip from the dead woman's warm, waterproofed cloak. Taking it and the baby back from Bull, she spread the cloth out and swaddled the child, twisting the tails into a sling. Amazing, how easily it came to her, the echoes of mothers past, watching clan women as they prepared for travel. She settled the boy comfortably across her chest, picked up her staff. "Maybe we should call him Ataashi," she said, as the boy yawned, showing tiny teeth. "Little dragon. Can you get us back to camp?"
He could, of course. Her faith was rock solid, and she followed him back, the baby covered and comfortable, a warm weight against her chest.