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Crestwood
“So, uh - you and the boss, huh?”
Solas looked up at the giant Qunari striding along beside him, who wasn’t even trying to hide his gleeful interest, and his thoughts about Ben-Hassrath information-gathering techniques might have been deemed uncharitable . “That’s hardly your concern,” the mage replied blandly.
“Yeah, no kidding - I’m not concerned,” the Iron Bull returned. “More impressed. You haven’t exactly been shy about sharing your opinions on the Dalish. How you got into those pants after what you’ve said…”
The tips of Solas’s ears went red, but he didn’t deign to rise to the bait. “If you’re looking for advice on how to court the mage from Tevinter…”
They both glanced ahead reflexively, and Solas took note of Silea’s comfort with Dorian: her hand was tucked into the crook of his elbow, and his head was bowed as he spoke to her in a low voice. The two of them had been almost inseparable since their trip into the future together. An odd friendship, but, Solas supposed, no stranger than a Qunari spy asking an elven apostate - or worse, Fen’Harel - for advice on how to turn and adversary into a lover.
Find yourself bewitched would have necessarily been Solas’s first step, but Solas wasn’t inclined to give Bull the information he pursued.
“I fear you will have to seek elsewhere,” he told the Qunari somewhat curtly, and hastened to catch up with the Inquisitor and her unlikely friend.
The Emerald Graves
“So…you and the boss are sharing a tent now?”
Solas let out a gusty sigh. “In case it had escaped your notice, Bull, we all share tents.” They didn’t all share bedrolls, but he and Silea were careful to separate theirs every morning. Plausible deniability was useful, politically speaking, and not having to field probing personal questions was a pleasant side-benefit. “Besides, what need have you for this line of investigation? Things with Dorian appear to be progressing…”
“Loudly,” Varric finished for him when he couldn’t immediately find an appropriate descriptor. “Seriously, Tiny, your room is right by the tavern. Can’t the two of you have, I don’t know, some consideration for those of us who are trying to get drunk?”
“Ah, he’s just sore ‘cause he lost his wager on whether Dorian would show up for another round,” Blackwall put in smugly, making it clear who had won that wager.
“Yeah, we all share tents,” Bull said, doggedly returning to the original point, “but most of us don’t always share tents with the same person. ”
“The Inquisitor and I didn’t share a tent on her last trip to the Storm Coast.”
“You weren’t there, Solas,” Bull reminded him flatly.
“Precisely,” Solas replied crisply. “She didn’t even take me.” It was still a slightly sore spot, though his research on a method by which to protect Cole from an unwanted binding had been important.
“Let him be, Tiny. You know Ruffles doesn’t want us talking about who her Inquisitorialness may or may not be kissing,” Varric said, unexpectedly siding with Solas.
“Give the poor girl some privacy,” Blackwall agreed. “Maker knows no one else will once we’re in the Winter Palace.”
“Fine,” Bull grumbled, and let the subject drop. Solas found himself, perversely, dissatisfied by the Qunari’s lack of resolve. The Qunari were arguably the most feared nation in Thedas, the Ben-Hassrath spoken of in terror-filled whispers. And yet this was how openly and clumsily one of their agents pursued information? Without even tenacity to recommend the method?
How the continent and its people had fallen since the days of Arlathan, Solas thought with a degree of complacency. He always had liked being right about things.
Skyhold
“So? What about it? How many in a single… rendezvous ?”
Solas paused at the sound of Dorian’s voice, luckily still hidden by the library’s shelves. It was late and there was no one else about to hear either Dorian’s question or the Inquisitor’s embarrassed giggle, but he was still taken aback. The space was hardly private.
“None, all right? We haven’t - not at all ,” Silea answered.
“ Darling. ” Dorian’s voice was scandalized.
“The Dalish frown on sex before bonding, Dorian,” Silea said severely. “At least within a clan. It’s just asking for - ”
“And is Solas now a part of your clan?” the mage asked, his tone arch.
“Well…no,” she admitted in a mutter. “But it’s still a big step! For me." Solas heard her take a breath. "One that…I would like to take.”
“ Vishante kaffas, you’ve put me in a rather awkward position, you know,” Dorian huffed.
“How have I put you in an awkward position by not having had sex?” she demanded.
“If Bull finds out about this, I’ll owe him five royals. I should make you pay it,” he groused.
“I’m not paying because you don’t have enough sense to avoid betting against your Ben-Hassrath…whatever the two of you are calling yourselves,” Silea informed him tartly.
“I can fix this,” Dorian said, apparently not paying attention. “I just nee - ”
“You’re not locking us in a room together, Dorian,” she sighed. “There’s too much to do. We don’t have that kind of time,” her voice took on a hint of mischief, “even though I might not object in other circumstances. You may as well just tell Bull and pay up - win some money from Varric at Wicked Grace if you have to.”
All at once the full extent of Solas’s blindness became apparent to him, and he backed away from the pair in the library without either interrupting their conversation or retrieving the book he had come for.
He was a fool - a prideful fool - believing he saw the whole of a play while ignoring the autonomy of the other players on the board. Iron Bull had distracted him with a straightforward attempt to gain the information he wanted, while slowly building up relationships he could eventually exploit to achieve his goal. He lost nothing in the direct approach, and in fact obfuscated his long-term strategy by lulling Solas into underestimating his skill.
The details of Solas’s association with Silea probably didn’t matter to the Qunari, of course - Bull was curious by nature, which was no doubt part of what made him a good spy. But here was yet more evidence of Solas’s own failure to give this world he had brought into existence the credit it was due.
He supposed, as consequences for willful blindness went, it was far from as dire as it might have been. When he pictured the teasing and attempts at advice that were no doubt to come, though, he was hard pressed to think up consequences more annoying .
Iron Bull had undeniably won this round. Solas silently vowed not to let the Qunari get the better of him again.