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Mírhel could feel the weight of her wrist against the wooden desk, laden down with a heavy bracelet and fingers twined around her writing quill but unmoving. She had added the weight after losing the other, to keep her grounded, even if her balance was already thrown off. She wanted to still be able to feel something that was present, even if it was detrimental. It wasn't as if her future needed much physical balance.
As soon as they had made it back to Skyhold, everyone had been skittering around trying to make the transition to working directly under the Divine, keeping the Inquisition running. Mírhel tagged along as best she could, but her part in this, as far as she was concerned, was over- she was a figurehead, a face to the name, but not much more past that. Still, she found it in herself to smile when Dagna and Sera approached her a few days later with toothy grins and a prosthetic arm. It wasn't anything special- metal twisted together down to a clamp-like hand, better for holding than grabbing but, as Dagna said "meant to keep her steady". She wore it around them but the transition still hadn't been made, not properly. It had only been a week and she'd been spending most of it in her room with the arm resting unused, trying to hold it together, to quell the still-present whispering from the Well, to see her way through to the future.
"You know, if you need me to come drag you into bed, all you have to do is ask."
Mírhel felt a small smile tug at her lips as she heard her Qunari boyfriend enter, standing at the top of the stairs and undoubtedly posturing in some way to persuade her to laugh or at least crack a smile. Leaning up from her relaxed posture to meet his gaze, she couldn't help but smirk when she talked. "Oh, but what fun would it be if I had to ask?"
"Come now, kadan, you should know by now that I'm here to please." He crossed the room effortlessly, coming to her desk and resting against the side. "But for once, you don't seem to be in the mood."
"Well, you were always good at reading a room." Mírhel sighed, leaning forward and putting down her quill. "But you're right. I'm... trying to figure out what to do next."
"That's kind of a loaded question. You finally make your way out of magical crap and you're ready to dive right back in?" The Iron Bull grinned, rising from the desk when she moved from her chair and following her to her bed, making sure to sit down first so she could lean against him. He remembers she used to like laying on her side, and he awkwardly tries to keep his hands out of the way as she settles in and rests herself on his chest.
"It's not about that. After talking to Solas, I... I know so much now. There's so much about my people that we've gotten wrong. The knowledge of the gods, Solas, the Veil... it's all information I have now, but I don't know how to tell them. My clan should know. But how could they believe me? Why should they?" She leaned her head further back onto him, but still managed to avoid his gaze. "I have no proof. They'd just think I was making things up."
"Why do you have to tell them?" Bull answered, reaching up to gently push her hair behind her ears. Mírhel sighed gently as his fingertips brushed the pointed ends of her ears, easing into his chest.
"Because it's wrong of me not to. They gave me the knowledge to survive when I was young. I shouldn't be lying to them!" She sat up, turning so she could balance herself on her good arm and finally meet his gaze. "They deserve the truth. We all did, and now I have it. How am I supposed to take it from them now? They're still my family. They're still my people." Mírhel averted her eyes again, looking down towards the sheets. "I want to help them. But I don't know if I can." Her eyes snap up as Bull gently touches her face, tilting her head up towards his again.
"Listen, kadan. I don't pretend to know anything that's going on with shit I don't understand. This thing with Solas, and elven magic, and gods, it's all ancient crap to me. But I know you're here, and alive, and need to go easier on yourself. For once, you don't owe anyone anything." Bull manages a smile as she leans her head into his head, but frowns again when Mírhel moves her eyes. "Hey, I'm serious. If you owe anything, you owe it to yourself to take it easy. They're not going to hate you."
"It's not about them hating me," Mírhel mumbles, steadying herself again as she tries to lean away from his touch. "I just... if it wasn't for the clan taking care of me as a child, I wouldn't be here. I already left them to be the Inquisitor, and now I have all this knowledge to help... and I don't even know if I can give it to them. I don't know if they'll accept it."
"Then you don't need to care." Bull answers, leaning forward to make sure she can see his face. "They might be your people, but they're not your responsibility. You don't have to take care of them like they're children." She opens her mouth to fight him and he puts up his other hand, which elicits a frown from her and a grin from him. "Don't beat yourself up over it. They'll be fine."
"So... you think I shouldn't say anything? Just lie to them?" She furrows her brow, the joking frown melting into a worried one. "The elves deserve to know what happened to their culture."
"And they can. Tell them about the temples, and the mirrors, and the places. Let them figure it out. They'll appreciate getting to know it all firsthand. Give yourself a break." Bull leans back again against the front of the bed, letting his arms fall. "You can fill in when they're ready to listen. And until then you can have some free time that maybe you won't spend sulking and continuing to take the entire world on your shoulders. You deserve to be able to let it go."
Mírhel sighs and looks away again, and Iron Bull grins because it's the sigh she makes when she knows he's bested her. Swinging herself around, she puts her feet back on the edge of the bed but sits unmoving. "I... I don't feel like I deserve anything. Solas is still out there and if I don't do something about it, everyone is going to die. I don't even know what to say to him. I don't know how to beg for the world against a god."
Iron Bull reaches out, pulling her back onto the bed and against him, and she doesn't move to protest. "Hey, hey, hey. No talk of gods and magic. You're betting against a man. A man who needs to see that there's something worth fighting for in the world. You just being here is proof of that. The Inquisition is fighting for you because you inspired them. I'm... I'm fighting for you because you inspired me. And I'm pretty sure if it came to blows with Solas, I could take him down no problem."
For the first time that night, Mírhel giggles, leaning her head back and reaching up her good hand to touch the back of his head. "Good to know I still have a good left swing in the form of a fist bigger than me."
"Hey, you'll always have my hands whenever you need them." Bull grins, letting her pull him into a gentle kiss. "For, you know, whatever you need them for."
She laughs again, refusing to move but not spurring forward. "Right now I'm just glad to have you here."
"Wouldn't have it any other way, kadan." He smiles, letting his forehead rest on hers. "Remember we're here for you. Every one of us."
"Yeah. But especially you." Mírhel grins, closing her eyes and accepting the moment of quiet. "And it's everything I need."