Chapter Text
Rasaan had gone by many names in her time, but she found her current one to be the most misleading. The Qunari had never had an Ambassador before Rasaan had volunteered for the position, so there was no word for what she was. A bureaucrat with a Qunlat dictionary had chosen to call her Emissary, while being completely unaware of the true nuance of the word. She was a loyal servant to the Qun but she was not the Arishok’s heir; Rasaan was a moniker that suited her poorly. She much preferred the name she’d had before.
Hissrad.
---
“Where is Bull?” Rasaan asked, looking around her living-room and accounting for all of her charges but one.
Kaaras and Ash were busy ruining their eyes playing a Bas game that involved murdering pedestrians (they said it provided insight into the Ferelden mind, and she allowed the lie). Kost was studying, as was her wont, and Tallis was gently brushing her hair, because Kost was terrible at looking after it on her own.
She spied a small foot poking over the edge of the sofa. It was pulled in slowly as she spoke, which was a solid strategy for avoiding her attention, but Rasaan was no apprentice with untrained eyes. There was no hiding from her.
“Cremisius,” She said, entreating but firm, “where has my little imekari gone?”
She looked down to the seat of the couch, at the tiny ‘Vint her charge had befriended. Krem blinked up at her, his mouth full of puffed corn that had been covered in orange cheese. Rasaan had no idea how humans managed to live off such things and not die.
Krem swallowed before replying, “Hi, Mrs Rasaan.”
He might have been a little garbage pit, but all boys were at his age. Rasaan didn’t mind Krem. Tevinter had been very cruel to him, but he was still a very polite child. If it weren’t for the fact that it would cause an international incident, she might’ve invited him to become a Viddathari, perhaps a Karasaad, eventually. He had a very strong will, and seemed to have the fortitude one would need to resist Asala-taar.
He was so small though.
“Cremisius.” Rasaan said.
“He wasn’t at school today,” Krem replied quietly.
“Hm,” She said, pulling her phone from her jacket. “Cremisius, have you had dinner yet?”
“No, ma’am.”
“You may as well eat with us, then,” Rasaan said. “The chef made that layered pasta again, and I know you like it.”
“Thank you,” Krem replied, sounding as surprised as he always did when someone other than Bull wanted him to be around.
“Good boy,” She said, ruffling his hair.
Krem lit up like a flood lamp. It filled Rasaan with a deep sadness, to see how he bloomed under the smallest kindness. This is what happens, she thought, when you let the unqualified raise children. The South was so utterly inept.
“At least make them take a course, first,” Rasaan muttered to herself, leaving the living-room to go to her office.
She typed Bull’s number into her phone from memory, keeping records of all your contacts was another foolish custom Fereldens were fond of, and hit dial. The call immediately went to message.
“Hey, the Bull’s not in right now, but leave a message after the tone and he’ll get back to you!”
There was a short pause before Bull burst into rapid-fire Qunlat.
“SorryfornotbeingatthephoneTama, I’llcallsoon, Irespectyou!”
Rasaan groaned under her breath as the phone beeped. That was her charge. That was the child that she had raised.
“Teth a, imekari, ashkost kata. Ebost kith,” She said in her firmest voice.
She put her finger up to the end call button before thinking better of it.
“Panahedan, Kadan,” She added, though reluctantly, and then she did hang up.
---
Bull had taken off before, usually to do things Ferelden children did in order to rebel against their parents. He said it was good intelligence, she said it was bloody-minded and dangerous. Of course, she’d taught him to be independent-minded enough that he’d follow his nose off a cliff and avoid punishment by playing with technicalities. She didn’t make him report in every night, because of the ever-present risk of phone taps, and it gave him enough leeway to do the forbidden before she had forbidden it.
Such men as him were needed, but that didn’t make him less of a little shit.
---
Rasaan’s phone rang the next day at a quarter past eight, fifteen minutes before Bull’s classes were set to start. She answered the call with no small amount of resignation. The number said ‘Private’ but she knew exactly who it was.
“Imekari, where have you been?” Rasaan asked.
“Heyyy Tama, sorry for falling off the grid…” Bull said sheepishly.
He was taller than her and had been for two years, but she still couldn’t help but think of him as the sweet little boy that used to hug her knees and beam at her. Ever eager to please her, even when he’d done something he shouldn’t have. At least he usually had a reason for it.
“You keep this up and I’ll start to worry about you,” Rasaan said, forebodingly. “Now out with it, tell me where you’ve been.”
“With a… friend?” Bull said, voice turning up at the end of the sentence with more unsureness than he usually had.
Rasaan rubbed her temples with her free hand. Bull had a lot of friends. Quite a few friends, too, now that he lived in a country with no Tamassrans. He’d never had a ‘friend?’ before.
“He was sad,” Bull said.
“People often are, Bull, but I don’t usually spend a night not knowing your position because of it.”
“He was really sad.”
Rasaan’s heart lurched just a little, beating against a smoke-thin jolt of fear. Bull had always been empathetic, and clever, and more observant than most at his level of training. Valiant. Powerful. A little too easily attached to those around him. Bull always walked the knife edge with the confidence of the unknowing.
“Tama?” Bull asked, when the silence drew a little long. “Are you there?”
“Yes, imekari,” Rasaan replied.
“If I disappointed you, really badly disappointed you, would you…” Bull cut himself off. “Sorry, never mind.”
“There will come a day when you need to leave me,” Rasaan said. “And on that day I will let you go, but you will always be my Kadan.”
She measured the words out carefully, so very carefully. Bull couldn’t know, and Rasaan herself only suspected, but she knew him well. Hopefully he would remember not just what she had said, but how.
“Thanks, Tama. I have to go to class now, love you!” Bull said, before hanging up.
It was such a wretchedly Southern thing to say.