AN. Fair warning: there's a brief, two chapters long, non-explicit romance with Bull. Pleasant reading. =)

To reach Orlais, we trudge back to Gherlen's Pass. And seriously, all this back and forth along the same roads is starting to bug me. Why couldn't we hash the details out through correspondence while still at the Storm Coast or, failing that, halfway to Haven, is beyond me. Progress needs to hurry up and invent smartphones. This pointless time wasting is daunting. I'd rather play Tetris if I wanted to kill a couple of weeks.

As evening comes upon the Frostbacks, I find myself alone with Bull, not an everyday occurrence lately. What with Solas playing an old, hateful maiden aunt Matilda.

"Hm." I sit on the opposite side of the fire and have no idea what to do or say. My back and thighs aren't happy with the full day's ride — what else is new — and that coupled with the anticipation of another disturbing sex dream compounds my frustration until it spills out in a loud exclamation.

"I'm surrounded with hot people who aren't interested in sleeping with me!" Raising my hands, I glare at the darkening sky. "This is so unfair!"

"I wouldn't be so sure," Bull says.

That pulls me up short. "What, you are volunteering?"

"Might be." He shrugs like it's no big deal. Maybe it isn't.

"Oh. So that's what that smell is about!" I restrain myself from facepalming, but only just. In retrospect, Bull's interest is obvious. His scent always changes when Cas does something awesome and impressive, the same way it does when he watches me stretch or, well, when he sniffs me on the rare mornings I have time to take care of myself.

"Huh." Feeling like an awkward idiot, I clear my throat. Bull's watching me with interest. "So. Do you have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend? Which is also fine, by the way."

"No, I don't."

"Oh, you are unattached." I keep my voice quiet. "Just like me." And here, my serious expression cracks. The left corner of my mouth pulls up. "Do you, by any chance, consider yourself married to your work?" The reference flies over Bull's head, not even tangling in his horns. Eh, that's half the fun sucked right out of joking. It also means I'll have to double the efforts to make up for the difference.

"Boss," Bull says, "Qunari don't do relationship. Personal attachments are forbidden. You fuck to scratch an itch and go separate ways."

"Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am?" I tilt my head, considering, and hear different sets of footsteps. One of them is getting closer with a determined stride. Soon, we will have an audience.

Holding my gaze, Bull slowly inches his chin lower. "Exactly like that."

On the one hand, no commitment equals zero personal drama, but on the other, there's always a chance of feelings cropping up, and, yeah. "I'm not sure if I should envy or pity you."

"Envy, if I'm to choose." A shadow lurks in his eye, the skin around his mouth tightens. "It is what it is."

"Asit tal-eb." I nod.

Bull's undamaged eyebrow lifts up. "You speak Qunlat? I'm impressed. Did your parents teach you? They Tal-Vashoth?"

"I'm an orphan." The words are out of my mouth without conscious input from my brain. No, I'm not, it insists, piping up a second later. And at the same time, I'm sure it was not a lie. What the fuck? "Probably. I think."

"You think?"

"If I had anyone left, they'd have contacted me by now."

For a second, Bull's eye narrows. "Right."

"And yeah, my parents probably were Tal-Vashoth. Don't seem likely for them to be Qunari, or we wouldn't be speaking right now. I imagine it's hard to enunciate with sewn together lips."

"I'm just surprised. I didn't think a Vashoth would bother learning the language."

"Sometimes I surprise myself." I sigh. Sagely. "And by 'sometimes' I mean almost daily."

-[break]-

On the fourth day, as we travel the length of Lake Calenhad, I watch Solas wander off to set snares, a chore usually reserved sorely for him since nobody else has the skill. It happens right after a particularly loud bitching fest, so I find myself springing to my feet and marching after him before he has the chance to disappear between the ever-present pines, scraggly shrubbery, and fir trees that appear more and more as we yet again near the Frostbacks. You'd think there'd be more than one path across a mountain range.

When I catch up, Solas acknowledges my presence with a glance. We walk in silence till I deem the distance far enough for privacy. I stop. He does, as well.

"You wanted to talk, Herald?" His voice is flat and expression guarded.

I'm so damn infuriated, I have to force the words through my teeth. "I get that the Qun is a personal affront and that you have no concept of respect for other cultures, but can please you lay off Bull? Leave him alone for one gods damned evening?"

"Respect must be earned," Solas says snootily. "The Qun is an indoctrination machine producing an endless line of mindless drones. There's nothing I find respectful about robbing people of their individuality."

"And I agree with you that it's a shitty setup. If a government requires frequent 'reeducation' of the citizens, it's utter bollocks. Doesn't mean you have to shit on people's beliefs, anyway. Bull isn't riding your ass reciting the Qun day in and day out in your ears, is he? Please, Solas. Just for one night, leave him be."

Solas straightens his posture, moving his chest forward and suddenly a lot taller. The hair on the back of my neck stands up.

With his chin up, Solas' giving the impression of looking at me down his nose. I've never noticed before, but he's of the same height as Cas. His habit of leaning forward with his hands linked behind his back makes him appear smaller.

"Why?" Solas says, a challenge in his voice. "So you can enjoy his company while he expounds on the wonders of life of absolute, unquestioning obedience? I never expected you of all people to oppose me on this, but perhaps, his proselytising has finally gotten to you."

"Solas, Bull hasn't breathed a word about the Qun without prompting, and the purpose of my questions is fucking understanding, not joining the cause. Why are you so hell-bent on not letting me flirt with him?"

A sneer curls his lips. "I'm sorry if my taking offence with their abhorrent system is standing in the way of your carnal gratification."

Throwing my hands up in the air, I do not shout. Still, my voice rises a notch. "For gods' sake! He isn't going to convert me to the Qun with his dick! Stop fucking cock-blocking me!" I briefly entertain an image of a proselytising dick and has to bite down on a burst of inappropriate laughter. I sigh.

"You aren't going to change a lifetime of brainwashing in a week. Lay off for a while, give him time to stew in his thoughts, then come back again. You'll make more progress this way. The ocean doesn't smooth stones overnight.'

"I get that if you could, you'd resurrect Koslun and tear his tome page from page, then set them both on fire, but can you go about disparaging the Qun with more, I don't know, sensitivity? Like, 'the Qun is a totalitarian bloody horror that needs to be nuked from the outer space, but I say it respectfully.' How 'bout that?"

Solas watches me with an unreadable expression. Finally, he says, "Resurrecting Koslun wouldn't be satisfying as it would be just an innocent spirit inhabiting his body, not the man himself."

"But you'd burn the tome, given a chance, right?"

His lips twitch. "Perhaps."

"Seriously, though, their whole philosophy preaches patience: the tide rises, the tide falls, but the sea is changeless. You are not going to change Bull's mind by jumping on him and shoving your point of view down his throat until he chocks on it."

I catch a flicker of something, an emotion or unexpected thought, in his expression, but it's gone before I can name it. A moment later, Solas says, "Perhaps, you are right." He inhales, his posture softening, and with that, his aura, or presence, or what-the-fuck-was-it that made him seem large than life deflates to his regular standard of a harmless unassuming hermit disguise. For it is just that — a clever disguise. Mimicry of a predator. I relax in turn.

"I admit, I got carried away," he says. "And as a Ben-Hassrath, the Iron Bull was undoubtedly trained to resist any humane counter-measures."

"See? Everyone wins. It's not like I disagree with you on principle, you know. But I've been watching him, and it just isn't working. Besides, I do want to fuck my damned dreams out of my head before they bloody well drive me postal! Yesterday, I dreamed of Chancellor Rodadick, Solas, making good on his name and riding Seggrit! You can't imagine how bloody traumatised I am. If there's a magical brain bleach, I want that image scoured out of my head! What's one more missing memory?"

Solas' face sours. "I… see your point. Why the Iron Bull, though? Surely, you can find someone whose faith does not dictate them to fear your very nature and shackle your kind in a slave's bindings?"

I snort. "Who, an Avvar? Going by this criteria, all Andrastians are out, and Tevinters won't see me as anything but a savage. Bull's attractive and interested. There isn't a line of volunteers to fuck me senseless that I'm overlooking, is there?"

A pause, then Solas adopts an apologetic expression and says in the most obnoxiously consoling tone which is, I just know, purposefully insincere, "I'm sorry, Herald. You are a fine woman, but I just don't see you that way."

"Oh, that's a relief." I put my unmarked hand on my chest and glance upwards. The sparseness of trees allows a full view of the sky. The moons are bright tonight, low and full, but their beauty's overshadowed by the ugly vortex of the Breach hanging far off on the horizon, still close enough to see. Refusing to let it break the levity of the moment, I wretch my gaze back to Solas. "Here I was losing sleep, straggling to find a way to let you down gently." I shake my head in mock sadness. A grin threatens to ruin the facade. "You aren't my type, either." A corner of my lips lifts of its own volition, the traitor. "Not enough chest hair."

Tilting his head to the side, Solas gives me a sly look. "Something I should know about the Seeker?"

Coming from him, the joke is so unexpected, I bark a laugh like a punch to the gut and slap his shoulder. "Good one!"

Solas' smile — a slight stretch of his mouth. "In the interests of your continuing mental health, I will endeavour to leave the Iron Bull alone for the duration of your"— his lower lip curls —"affair."

"Thank you," I say, entirely sincere and heartfelt. Oh, what the hell! I spread my arms wide, telegraphing my movements and intention, and when he doesn't move or step away, give Solas a bear hug. This time, unlike the others, he returns my embrace, not stiffening even for a second. Wow, my plight must have really moved him.

"Now, Herald," he says when I release him, "can I get to my task, or have you something else to discuss?"

"Nope." I turn to go and realise a problem. "Just point me to our camp, and I'll be out of your hair," I say with a straight face.

Solas' exasperated look is tempered with the slightest hint of fondness. "Just follow the broken branches. Your path will look like a dragon ran rampant over it."

I glance around, exaggerating my confusion at not finding a difference. Old, frostbitten grass, fallen pine needles… Nope. No path. Raising my eyebrows, I stare at Solas.

He sighs and points in a seemingly random direction. "That way."

-[break]-

Back at camp, Bull takes one look at my grinning mug and says, "Good talk?"

"Something like that." I plant my ass on the ground and, twisting my torso to face him, ask, "So are you interested in a tumble?"

"Yes."

"Then let's do it before Solas gets back and ruins the moment!" I've prepared a speech with bullet points to convince him, but—

"All right." He puts his axe to the side, along with the cleaning supplies — a rag and a bottle of oil.

"I have a list of," I start. My brain catches up to his response. "Oh. Excellent!" I clap, once, and pause, rebooting.

"You want to ride the Bull? Now sounds as good a time as any, Boss." Bull gets up and offers me a hand, which I accept. He pulls me to my feet. It brings me closer to the hollow of his throat, and I breathe a lungful of his heady scent — warm skin mixed with the clean smell of thawing fresh snow. Intoxicating. Should be made illegal, or bottled up and sold as an outrageously expensive miracle treatment to rich old men, so their shrivelled dicks would make a valid attempt at rising to the task of pleasing their young mistresses. It'd work wonders, too, I bet.

"Come," Bull says. Picking up his axe, he leads me to his tent. I follow like a vampire's thrall after their master, heedless of Cas' secondhand embarrassment.

-[break]-

Later, sweaty, exhausted, and utterly satisfied, I'm on the verge of sleep, sprawled across Bull, when he says,

"You really have no idea what's going on with you, do you?" His voice sends pleasant vibrations through his chest. His nails running along my shoulder in the lightest caress distract me from answering straight away.

"Right now? Nothing much." With tremendous effort, I lift my head to leer at him. "But gimme half an hour to catch my breath, and I'll be up for another round." I grin, propping my chin on his sternum.

Bull smiles but persists with questions. "So what brought this on, then?" He gestures with his left hand between us. "Not that I'm complaining."

Gathering my wits, I settle down with my right ear pressed over his heart so I can still see his face and confess, "I keep dreaming of all the people I've ever seen having sex. And I mean all of them. One-on-one, threesomes, orgies, whatever you can think of, I've seen it. Half the time, it's not dreams but outright sexual nightmares. Don't know what the demons think. I have standards."

"Desire demons. They fuck with your head." Bull's exhales, his breath ghosting over my forehead. "It's that time of the year." His tone implies significance, but all I can come up with is,

"Winter?"

His laughter is deep and rumbling; then Bull sobers up. "Herah-ashadan."

I need a moment to comprehend, and when I do, my eyebrows take a hike to my hairline. "Time to seek a friend?"

"Mating Time, yeah. Happens twice a year to every female of child-bearing age, once if you live in the South because it's so damn cold here. Lasts from two weeks to a month," he rambles on. "Next, if you fail to conceive, you'll have your bleeds."

"A-all right," I drawl, not the least bit perturbed. Must be the postcoital bliss and general tiredness. "Just so you know, this makes me feel like a Vulcan."

"Vulcan?"

"Yeah, you know," I say while my attention is in a galaxy far, far away. The similarities don't end with pon farr. The Qun's strict, rigid adherence to roles is explained as a means to curb the Qunari's savage nature. "An alien race who experiences an imperative drive to mate every seventh year."

"Never heard of it." Bull's left hand lands on my back, hot against my chilled skin, and slides from my shoulder blade to lower back in a soothing, repetitive motion.

"It's fictional." I bet suppression of emotions and logicing the fuck out of everything would work just as well for Qunari. "Probably exists only in my memory now," I mutter around a yawn. My eyelids drop, my mind starting to drift, when another thing Bull said catches up to me. I crack an eye open and squint at him. "Hey, you're not a mage. How'd you know?"

"About demons?"

I hmm in affirmative.

"Worked as a bodyguard for a 'Vint. He talked a lot. I listened. Big guys like me? Most people think we are dumb, so they don't watch their tongues." I shiver and snuggle closer. "Posed as a Tal-Vashoth." Bull pulls a part of his bedroll over us. "It's a status thing. 'Vints call us tamed beasts and pretty much treat us like a furniture most of the time."

"Mm. Makes sense. Most people are dumb, Bull. You? Dangerous," I mumble, not really thinking about it but not minding my honestly, either, "but not 'cause you are strong. You're whip-smart. I better be careful, yeah? Can't fall for a Qunari."

Aside from his reassuring heartbeat steadily lulling me, but Bull is silent. Enough time passes for me to start sliding under. Then Bull sighs, and in that weightless moment when sleep blurs the edges, one foot in the Fade, I hear him say,

"That's right, Boss. You better not," his voice saturated with sadness. A talking darkspawn asks me to donate blood for scientific research, and afterwards, I'm never sure: perhaps, Bull's words were a part of my dream.

-[break]-

"Good morning, Shiny. Slept well?" is Varric's greeting when I exit Bull's tent and step onto the white, as yet untouched fluffy carpet. It must have snowed during the night.

The sun's high and bright in the cloudless sky and the sickly green triangle can't dampen my mood. I stretch, relishing the soreness of my body that, for once, has nothing to do with camping on hard ground, and smile. "Like a log."

Waking up on my own is wonderful. It would be even better if it weren't to an empty bedroll, but Bull took my shift to let me rest, so I'm not too disappointed.

Varric snorts. "Good to be you. We didn't."

That pulls me up short. "Oh, shit. I forgot to set privacy wards, didn't I?"

"Yes." Solas doesn't look from his mug of a herbal nightmare he insists on drinking instead of regular teas.

"Fucking hell." I wasn't too vocal. Was I? Not at first, at least. "Sorry!"

"You should be. I'm pretty sure you kept folks in Orzammar awake for half the night with your acrobatics." Though Varric's face is serious, mirth leaks into his tone. He shakes his head in apparent disappointment. "And we haven't even reached the turn to the Gherlen's Pass yet."

"What can I say?" I shrug, shaking off any nascent embarrassment. "You know how it is with sex: if you can think straight in the middle of it, you ain't doing it right."

"That must have been a hard ride," Cas deadpans, glancing at me sideways, and smirks, blushing.

"Oh, you've no idea." I leer at Bull, who wanders back to camp, weaving his way between scraggly bushes. "It was wild, all right."

"I'm pretty sure that we do, in fact, have an accurate impression of the night's events," Solas says, still searching for a hidden meaning inside his mug. "Herald, if you plan on continuing your, ah, 'riding exercises,' please try to remember to cast a silencing spell or keep the noise down. We do need sleep."

"No problem." I nod. "Of course, I'm going to ride Handsome Jack now. Can't just switch mounts mid-journey, 'cause he'd be jealous if I do. Besides, everyone needs rest."

Varric makes a face like all his teeth got root cavities, all at once. "That was terrible. Truly horrific." He points an accusing finger. "You are terrible. And you just had to go and put that image in my head, didn't you?"

I widen my eyes, blink, and say with utmost dignity, "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

As Varric shakes his head in despair, I winking at grinning Bull behind his back and duck into my own tent to get ready for the road. We've missed enough daylight already.

-[break]-

Around noon, I'm riding abreast with Cas when behind us, Varric's murmur overlaps her retelling of the Legend of Three Sister just as the characters are escorted out of a burning den of iniquity.

"You know, I was in Kirkwall during the Qunari uprising." His voice is fairly quiet, but not to my ears. Tilting my head, I raise a hand to indicate for Cas my need to listen in. Her nod's almost imperceptible. She doesn't pause her tale.

"Oh. That must have been fun," Bull says, his tone neutral.

"You could say that." Varric pauses. A whisper of leather: he shifts in the saddle. "It provided me with a lot of practice for aiming at large targets. I know precisely where to place my bolts to cause the most pain with the least damage, so you can suffer longer. Just something to be aware of."

"Um."

"My gods, Varric!" I pull the reigns, slowing Handsome Jack down, wait for Solas to pass. Bull looks supremely uncomfortable. Varric, in contrast, is the very picture of nonchalance. "You are so precious, if we weren't riding, I'd hug you!" I attempt to do it anyway, leaning down and giving his shoulder a squeeze. "You are a great friend."

"I try."

"That was unneeded, but your care is appreciated."

He smiles with one side of his mouth. "Knowing you, now you'll find a way to do the same on my behalf."

"That depends. You might end up being the one to get the shovel talk."

"Yeah, no. Somehow, I don't foresee it happening."

"Hm. As you say." With a parting smirk for Varric and a wider smile for Bull, I spur Jack into a canter. Cas' story was just getting exciting.

-[break]-

Upon crossing the mountains, our time on the road is full of steadfast ignoring of any and all signs of unrest. In southern Orlais, heavy, dark smog rises over blackened fields powdered with a thin dusting of snow. Farther north, we leap into the nearest copse and with varying degrees of success pretend to be trees to avoid a contingent of Chevaliers. My low chanting of 'we are trees, trees are us' gains a multitude of glares, so I mime zipping my mouth and resort to whispering.

A short voyage over the channel yields a revelation: ships hate me. I spend the whole two days long journey plastered to my berth while my stomach performs jumping jacks into my throat. At least, I'm in an excellent company.

"The great Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast," Varric says grandly, "felled by a little swaying." A swish — he shakes his head. "So this is why I didn't see a glimpse of you on our way from Kirkwall. I wondered."

"Leave me alone, dwarf," Cas moans from the opposite berth sporting a complexion of a freshly raised zombie.

"Now, now, Seeker." Varric tsks. "Why would I do that when I come bearing miracle remedy that will cure you of all ills, courtesy of our mysterious elven friend?" Liquid swishes. Varric must have shaken a flask.

Coming into my line of sight, he pulls the cork off. A bitter, godsawfull smell fills the cabin like its main purpose is to scrub a layer of tissue from unfortunate sinus passages. A wordless sound of absolute disgust is all the response Cas offers.

Varric has the balls to chuckle.

After the remedy worsens Cas' sickness, I refuse to go, or in my case, crawl anywhere near it, preferring to make do with a cloth-wrapped chunk of ice that I somehow conjured directly on my forehead. The elf, however, is persistent. Raiding my supplies for ingredients, Solas subjects Cas to three more concoctions. And while no amount of any of his brews helps, they do keep him somewhat entertained.

Through it all, Varric and Bull are a steady presence at our bedsides, taking turns to escort us around a cramped hall into a claustrophobic lavatory, change sheets, and bringing weak broth, the only thing Cas and I can stomach.

Most horrors come with an expiration date, be it the end of the torment or the tormented. Stumbling down the gangplank with a hand fisted over Jack's reins, I swear off going in a spitting distance of ships forever, ever, and a day.

Our new lodgings are in the countryside surrounding the capital. Situated an hour's ride from Val Royeaux, a quaint chateau belongs to a family who prefers to while away the colder months sunning themselves on Antivan shore, the chateau houses the bare bones of the staff: two maids and a matron who does the cooking.

Unintentionally eavesdropping on their gossip, I gather that our absent hosts, those cheap nouveau riches, sure did skimp on the accommodations. How can anyone survive with only one small hot pool? Oh, the horror.

Two stories high, the building has only one grand dining room and five guest bedrooms. Apparently, it's positively minuscule and bordering on unacceptable by local standards.

I move into the room with the largest bed, a four poster with red velvet canopy and golden tassels. The better part of the coverlet is embroidered with a coat of arms done in bright, eye-searing blue. Bull follows me through the doorway and dumps his backpack next to mine without verbal communications. Catching his eye, I grin. He puts his axe on a low decorative table with lion paws for legs, falls onto the mattress, and moans.

"Damn, that's some fine shit right here." The coverlet muffles his words. Flopping onto his back, he props himself onto his elbows, giving me a 'come hither' look. "You joining, or what?"

Carefully leaning my staff against a nightstand, I consider the view. Having shed his coat on the way up, Bull's sprawled in all of his half-naked glory. We definitely should wash off the road dust first, but— Bull lifts his good eyebrow, and I find myself crawling into his lap.

"Sure," I say, entirely unnecessary, and hook a hand under his head, leaning down to bring our lips together. As if there could be any other answer.

Distracting me with his tongue, he rolls me over in under a minute. Bull's hand pins both my wrists to the bedding over my head. The bulk of his body is pressing me down, restraining my movements. His skin is deliriously hot. With a heated look in his eye, he leers.

"Good."