Chapter Text
Bull knew of the Herald of Andraste.
He had plenty of information on her. He knew she had stepped from a rift in the Fade (creepy) and promptly fucked off into the mountains when the Seeker’s soldiers had tried to detain her. He knew she didn’t speak the Trade tongue at first. He knew she had magic that made the Salisari uneasy. He knew she was not easily caught, if she could be caught at all. The Seeker and the Nightingale hadn’t managed it. He knew she protected people readily. He knew she killed people easily. He knew Krem said she held herself like she was someone important.
He knew she was wearing dragonhide and dragonbones when she walked across the rough stones of the Storm Coast to meet him.
But he didn’t know her. And one look at her face under the shadow of her hood told him knowing would not come easy.
She stopped a very precise distance from him and watched with piercing blue eyes. One of her hands was hidden under the edge of her dragonhide cloak. He knew it was resting on a dagger.
“So you’re with the Inquisition, huh?” he said, eyeing the elf at her side. “Glad you could make it. Come on, have a seat. Drinks are coming.”
“You are… the Iron Bull?” she asked, voice thick with an accent he couldn’t place. That intrigued him. It had been a very, very long time since he couldn’t identify an accent. “My Trade is not so good. I have brought… assistance. Solas.” She gestured to the elf beside her, who was not city or Dalish or of the Qun. Her eyes glimmered. “Prevent… misunderstandings.”
Someone—maybe multiple someones—had tried to take advantage of the language barrier, only to find themselves completely thwarted. Bull’s wariness about this woman climbed a notch, but so did his respect.
“Fine by me,” said Bull. “He can have a drink too.”
Bull sat. The Herald and Solas did not. Only when he was seated did the Herald’s eyes scan over the coast and the Chargers as they worked. After a moment, she nodded slightly. “Efficient,” she said, and the word was so smooth that Bull was sure it was one of her favorites.
“Thanks,” said Bull. “The Chargers are the best of the best. Expensive, but worth it.” He watched her closely. She gave nothing away about how much she did or did not understand. “I’m sure the Inquisition can afford us.”
The Herald hummed and continued to give him absolutely nothing. Better and better. He did like a challenge, especially when it came from a terrifying woman.
“But more than the Chargers, you get me,” he continued. “You need a frontline bodyguard, I’m your man. Whatever it is—demons, dragons? The bigger the better.”
Her attention had become sharp on the word dragon. That made sense. It also made his skin prickle slightly.
“Body guard,” she echoed, glancing at Solas. “Soldier for… to me?”
“Yes, a dedicated protector,” Solas said. He seemed like he wanted to add something directly to Bull, but thought better of it.
The Herald nodded. “Useful.” She eyed Bull up and down, but not in a flirty way. He felt like he was being quickly and professionally weighed and evaluated. Krem was right. This woman had been important long before the Conclave. “Big enough.”
Bull laughed. “Flattery won’t get you a discount.” Then he leaned his elbows on his knees. “There’s one more thing though. Might be useful, might piss you off.” He looked between her and Solas. “Ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?”
The Herald’s face did not change. Interestingly, neither did Solas’s. “No,” she said.
“Heard of the Qunari?” he checked.
“People. And government. And… belief.”
He didn’t know where she was from, but that answer made him think it was far. Really far. And that the language barrier was real but also a mask being used by a dangerously intelligent leader.
“Got it in one,” he agreed. “The Ben-Hassrath is a Qunari order. They handle information, loyalty, security, all of it. Spies, basically. Or, well, we’re spies.”
A subtle tension entered Solas’s shoulders, but the Herald’s reaction was far more interesting. Her attention had become sharp earlier when he said dragon. It sharpened the same way when he said spies.
A normal, untrained person would not have noticed her easy comprehension. They would have taken the even, impassive stare as a struggle. Bull knew better. She’d understood everything he said, despite the cultural and linguistic disconnect. He was almost certain she was concealing the full extent of her understanding from most people. Maybe she became attentive when he mentioned spies because she had firsthand experience.
Maybe she was a spy herself.
Then again, reacting to the word spy—however subtly—would be sloppy. A good spy knew better than to show people which words mattered, and she didn’t seem the type to be bad at anything.
The Herald turned to Solas. She didn’t say a word, just arched a brow, and the elf launched into a clarification. “He finds information, some of it dangerous or secret, and sends it back to the Qun. They are not friendly to any here. We would be taking a great risk.”
“Risk,” she echoed while Bull tried to figure out if Solas was dumb enough to miss the Herald’s comprehension or if he was just playing along. She turned to look at Bull again. “For a bodyguard.”
He playacted a little offence at the amused thread in her tone. “Not just any bodyguard, the best in Orlais! Really, though, the Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach.” He glanced up, but the giant creepy-ass hole in the sky wasn’t easily visible from the Storm Coast. “Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I’ve been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports on what’s happening. But I also get reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais. You sign me on, I’ll share them with your people.”
The Herald’s eyes had subtly lit up, but she turned to Solas again as if she didn’t fully understand.
“A trade,” he summarized. “Information for access to information. Oversight.”
“I see.” Her hand still hadn’t moved from the dagger at her side, but she pressed a finger of the opposite hand to her lips as she thought. Bull felt distinctly like he was being eyed by a large predator contained in a small, lithe woman’s body. “Very open. Very dangerous. Why?”
“Why tell you openly?” She nodded, so he said, “Whatever happened at that Conclave thing, it’s bad. Someone needs to get that Breach closed. So whatever I am, I’m on your side.”
She hummed. Dangerous lady, assuming she understood all the implications of what he’d said. He thought she did. He was usually right about these things.
“Kiera—” Solas started, but paused when she held up a hand. She did not look away from Bull.
“Know,” she said. “Know clearly. Betrayal and I kill you. Slowly.”
He believed her. “I’ll stick to our agreement if you hire me.”
”Good.” She finally took her hand from the dagger and extended it to him. They shook. Her grip felt alarmingly strong for someone of her size and build. “Hired. Luck to you, the Iron Bull.” She smiled, and that too was dangerous. “It will be needed.”