*A/N: So, I figured that I would get one story finished before I started another, but as it turns out, reading as much and as ranged as I do leaves me with a lot more ideas for stories than I really know what to do with.

Recently, that means Dragon Age: Inquisition and specifically lots of The Iron Bull. I've also been able to read more stories about/with non-standard mains (Trans/Ace/Pan/Poly, physically and/or mentally disabled and many more). I love getting a view into situations and relationships I myself will probably never experience (being a hetero with no current or past diagnoses). Most often they end up being just as fulfilling and romantic if not more than the smorgasbord of Mary-Sue hetero romance that's so easily available.

I DO WANT TO BE CLEAR that this story was in inspiration of some of those wonderful fics, not a mockery or done in jest. I am attempting only tribute to characters who are overwhelmingly strong in a sense other than physical/magical/tactical. I am not aiming to be overly descriptive of Meredith's diagnosis because eveyone is different and I in no way will claim to actually know what these individuals go through on an even daily basis. I am not accusing any people(s) or entities of actually committing assault or insinuating that it is or should be an accepted/ignored happening.

I realize that this may not be my best draft, but I am anxious enough about the short itself and am hoping for some guidance. If this does actually offend anyone, I'd like to know how to execute it better, as well as possibly continue to try and understand another's point of view.

Thank you for reading, on with the short!*

Fem!oc/cole ace!love T. platonic love (confrontation after Bull chose Chargers/Tal-Vashoth)

Bull had called off his self-imposed exile to the training grounds; trying to beat out his fears with a stave- his fears of becoming a raging monster of a Tal-Vashoth without the rules and guides of the Qun. It had been days since they returned from the Storm Coast, but he had only just now reclaimed his usual spot in the tavern. Tankard in hand, to all but his Chargers and the most observant of the Inner Circle, he appeared as if nothing had changed; still boisterous and flirtatious and full of bad puns. But the Chargers saw the little things. Miniscule, with Bull being a now ex-Ben-Hassrath, but there for those that knew him best. So while it was odd that their resident pair of odd ducklings had cozied up to the Tal-Vashoth, that in-and-of-itself was not out of their normal.

For those that remembered him, Cole was a spirit, it was expected that he would act unexpectedly; he was not human. For Meredith, a young human woman of small stature, they were beginning to understand. She did not speak often, and had been found cowering outside of a village where they had heard rumors of either an odd- or crazy, waif, depending on who you asked. Cole had felt the 'knots' as he often does, and lead them to the woman, huddled in the hollow of a tree, obviously overwhelmed from what Cole was broadcasting; coherent, if fragmented and panicked, thoughts. The spirit was able to calm her down some, beginning his habit of being her somewhat-translator. As it turns out, the woman was completely lost, confused on how she had gotten there, and completely without family or support. Though, surprisingly, it was found that she was both a somewhat apothecary and tinker, completely calming down to an almost meditative state with small, verbal answers as she helped both Solas and Stitches mix poultices.

Finding her a tinker had been a surprise. Iron Bull knew that his size and general appearance scared most people, so as a general rule was keeping his distance; having seen the human shaking so badly and jumping at any loud noise, he knew he wasn't going to be welcome or helpful company. So it was to the surprise of many when Meredith approached Bull once they made camp and silently, with pleading eyes, begged him to remove his brace.

"It hurts you. Too many things are loose from the strain. It is harder to bend, and digs in at the joint. She wishes to help. She doesn't have all of her tools, but she can help the hurt. Are you in pain The Iron Bull? I cannot see the hurt; I can see the knots she can't see, but I cannot see the hurt she does. But I want to help her help if you hurt. Do you hurt, The Iron Bull?" Bull hadn't bothered resisting either set of baleful eyes pointed at him and simply removed the contraption, slowly, to deposit it into tiny waiting hands. Meredith then pulled out a small bag, it and its contents her only possessions, and began fiddling with the brace for a few moments, twirling an implement here or there before handing it back. Bull, again careful not to startle the woman, put the brace back on to test the fit and was immediately relieved of an ache he wasn't even aware of. Had it truly gone so long without proper maintenance? The Iron Bull purposefully quieted his tone, attempting to smooth out the roughness of his speech.

"Thank you Meredith." All were further surprised to watch as, haltingly but without fear, Meredith scooted into Bull's side, and when no rejection came, into his lap with her head tucked into his 'pillowy man-bosoms'. Both that as well as a poke from Adaar about Bull coming into the role of a Tamassaran so well were thrown about as Meredith continued to cuddle, hide behind, and generally use Bull as an emotional pillar; not becoming overwhelmed as easily and generally calmer as they traveled to Skyhold. Meredith would be taking asylum there, as well as joining Dagna, Harrit and the healers in working to support the Inquisition. Adaar had said it wasn't necessary, but Meredith, in her own way, had insisted.

Slowly it seemed that, other than for missions, either for the Inquisition or to unravel the knots he found, Cole and Meredith became inseparable. Basic touches were very common, but they could also be found in little out-of-the-way places, simply cuddling or limbs tangled and heads together in silent conversation. Rumors began making the rounds about the unusual pair, as baseless as they were, which made it to Solas's ears. Of course, this upset the apostate that someone was 'corrupting' Cole as a spirit. The one time he tried to speak with Cole about the situation, Cole simply tilted his head a bit, saying, "Meredith loves me", before disappearing and avoiding the mage for the rest of the day. Solas learned to drop the topic, no matter how much he still disapproved of Meredith.

Now, Solas sat at his usual table in the tavern, slowly working his way through his meal. It was unusually empty, but for the Chargers, Dorian and Cullen, all of whom were imbibing after a long day, or in the Chargers case simply drinking to their hearts content. None of the Chargers looked strangely after Cole or Meredith, perched as she was on Bull's thigh with her head on his chest, a hand hanging down to tangle with Cole's as he sat on the floor and rested against Bull's chair, by now used to their presence and strangeness in general. It did however catch everyone's attention as Meredith began to speak, perhaps for the longest stretch they'd heard from her.

"I don't like to talk. Talking hurts. But I want to talk about Dylan." 'Secretly' maudlin as he was, Iron Bull's full attention still landed on the tiny human in his lap, protective instincts rising up in him at the reminder of what people had done to one of his 'unofficial Chargers' simply because she did not communicate well. One of Cullen's soldiers still limped sometimes from that discussion. His pint rested on the small table next to him, hand still curled around it, but ready to abandon it at any signal of distress; Iron Bull didn't care to analyze what he was feeling or give it a name, it would only make being a Tal-Vashoth even more of a reality.

"I went to pick out a friend; a helper. Sometimes the world just gets too loud, too many colors and the noises won't stop echoing. They didn't want me to go there- it was rooms full of death, but I knew. Some of them were like me; just different." Bull moved his one hand from Meredith's lower back up to her shoulder, lightly pulling her closer and rubbing gently across it with his thumb. Cullen seemed to be catching onto something, his attention now fully on Meredith as well, bringing Solas's attention with him as Meredith continued her story.

"Dylan was there; in the death room. They didn't call him Dylan, I learned that on my own. He was born in a bad place and people had hurt him; made him hurt others; there were so many hurts. They were going to take him away." Meredith let out a shaky sigh, leaning more into Bull, tightening her hand with Cole's and nuzzling her face across the smooth leather of Iron Bull's harness. "But I could hear him when he yelled at them. They didn't care about his hurts; he was dangerous- he was a killer." Solas raised an eyebrow at Cullen's convoluted look of sympathy, horror and disgust, only just catching the mumbled word 'mabari'.

"But Dylan never yelled at me- never. Not when his hurts got bad; he let me help him; I didn't poke at this hurts. So Dylan stayed with me. He helped me with the noise; the colors. He calmed the whole world down. I loved Dylan; Dylan loved me. People started to see Dylan. It was good." All of Bull's Chargers listened with the sickening, sinking, feeling that it hadn't stayed good for long.

"But there was a boy; I didn't like him. He tried touching me; bad touching. I screamed; Dylan came to help me. He bit the boy; made him go away. But the boy was big; his daddy was big. They yelled; said Dylan hurt the boy for no reason; Dylan was still a killer. People listened. They were scared again; they didn't see Dylan. They judged Dylan; were taking him away. I was scared and cried; people were touching me- keeping me from Dylan. Dylan just wanted to help." Silent tears worked their way down Meredith's cheeks, but her voice never faltered, only becoming even more solemn. Dorian lifted a hand to his mouth, haltingly placing his hand across Bull's lower back, his own tears for once running unchecked over his face, makeup forgotten.

"Dylan knew I was scared and loved me and wanted to help. But the police man wouldn't let him go. Dylan bit the police man when they picked me up. I didn't want to be put in the chair again; things would go fuzzy and I wouldn't remember lots of things; be in places I didn't go; sometimes more people with bad touching." Bull had to use every ounce of will in his body this time not release his seething rage; no one should be touched when they didn't want to. Even as he was enraged for Meredith, he was terrified of himself; perhaps the little human would be the final tug that snapped his restraint and sent him careening into a full Tal-Vashoth as he'd battled so long in Seheron, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away from her.

"Dylan knew how to help. But they took him away. There was so much blood. Two loud bangs when he tried to help me; he couldn't walk- couldn't breath- but still trying to help. Then still-ness. Only the breathing; everything but Dylan. They didn't let me out of the chair for a long time; I didn't remember, but the flowers were gone. The boy tried to touch someone else, but they were bigger this time. The boy and his daddy got put away; money wasn't enough. Then people started to see again. The police man- he had a scar- he said 'sorry'; he didn't mean to take my family away. They didn't let me have Dylan's collar, but the police man had his tags; his name on them, our address, the little bow he sometimes let me clip in his fur." Tears caked to her face, Meredith pulled back to look Bull in the eyes, valiantly fighting the exhaustion that threated to pull her under to get her point across and comfort her friend.

"Dylan was born in that bad place; raised to hurt and be mean. But Dylan was more; he didn't need the chains or muzzles or hurts to stop. The Iron Bull is more. Happy The Iron Bull helped his family; I don't want them taken away. Love my family. Love you, The Iron Bull." Against all his training, Bull's hands trembled as he brought Meredith close to him again, abandoning his ale to completely hold the small woman as she fell into an exhausted sleep in his arms. Unconsciously, the Chargers closed ranks tighter around the two, a shifted chair, a turned back, until it seemed they formed their own barrier, proudly protecting those inside it.

If any in the Herald's Rest noticed the glistening of another's cheek, nothing was said.

*Thank you for reading! Please feed the author comments on how this turned out/could improve.

Thank you as well to the beautiful people who astound me near every day with your tenacity and optimism, even in the face of those who would call you 'broken' and 'not right'. You make me stronger.*