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"You gotta be shitting me."
Bull stares at the torn piece of paper, badly hidden among the supplies he was supposed to be guarding. Supplies that were supposed to go to the totally-absolutely-definitely not still operating Inquisition.
It says: 'Care for a game? Knight to f3,' in an elegant and all-too-familiar handwriting.
Solas, the fucking Dread Wolf, has invited the Iron Bull to another game of chess.
'You're on. Ben-Hassrath to f4.' Bull writes on the back of the slip of paper and replaces it where he found it. He tries to watch for the agent who might come for it, but the paper is gone without him noticing.
***
It goes on for weeks, months even.
'You still leave your left side open. Next time the dagger might be poisoned. Queen to b3.'
The Iron Bull curses. His side is still sore even though Stitches has come up with a new green sludge to put on his wound. It stinks to high heavens but it's supposed to make stab wounds heal faster.
"... pawn takes pawn..." he grumbles under his breath. He almost punctures the paper as he notes down the move.
***
Their plan is working. Well, it's the Inquisitor's plan, except he's no Inquisitor anymore and stays away from the action, and hidden in the shadows most of the time. He only communicates through the occasional letter or missive.
The Iron Bull gets more hidden messages from Solas than correspondence from Lavellan.
Still, they finally have a plan and it is working.
'Tell him to take better care of himself,' the latest note says. 'Mage to g5.'
It's from a week ago. Now, the Iron Bull is mopping up a small cell of Fen'Harel's agents near the Nevarran border of Tevinter.
'Tell him yourself. Ben-Hassrath to a4.'
***
Solas and his people seemed to have gone underground. Bull is wary of the quiet. He senses a trap, an ambush maybe.
His suspicions are proven right when Dorian goes missing.
'We seem to have exhausted our academic interests. Come get your ally before he sets fire to my library. Knight to f1.'
They do rescue Dorian, but thanks to Bull's carefulness, the trap that was set up for the Chargers is avoided and while Dorian can't shut up about the audacity of Solas criticising his necromancy, he is merely bruised and annoyed, and no worse harm came to him.
'Maybe should've let the 'Vint have more fun with your books. Tamassran to e6.'
***
Lavellan's gone. No one knows if he's dead or captured, but Red is passive-aggressively blaming everyone, but mostly herself, and Harding is furious for missing a meeting with the ex-Inquisitor.
Bull is rolling Solas' latest note between his fingers, considering whether to show it to the Spymaster or keep going with the game.
'Mage takes Queen,' it simply says.
"Hey Red," Bull calls out in the gap in the conversation between the women. "I've got an idea you'll hate."
***
They are cornering Solas at every step. Bull might not have spotted his agent that first time the invitation to the chess game appeared, but he'd kept his eye out ever since. Never revealing whom he saw but taking note of the agents' movements.
'Ben-Hassrath takes Queen,' Bull writes and hands the note straight to the bloodied elf in front of him. The lad used to be Viddathari but switched alliances when Solas stopped masquerading as a hobo apostate and started gathering his forces.
They've almost got him pinned.
***
Solas is on the run and yet he still manages to finish their game.
'Tower to c2. Checkmate.' The Iron Bull's last move is still neatly legible on the top of the page. Below it words that recapture Solas' maddening smirk and cocky tone perfectly.
'It's good you found your place. Till we meet again, Tal-Vashoth.'
When Bull opens the carefully wrapped package the little note came with, a bright pink, silk shirt slips out of it. Bull can't help but laugh.
"Til we meet again, ...mage."