Act II: Accountability


Note: Hehehehe. Don't be upset.


I had left Dorian to his own devices in his little sanctuary of a half of a library. Little known fact, Dorian was an absolute bookworm. I wasn't much of a reader myself, my preferences leaning more toward art and crafts, but I could appreciate someone else's love of books. Briefly, I wondered if he and Solas would get along. Granted, the elf hardly, truly became friends with anyone. I balanced on the edge of the knife between possible friend and complete annoyance with him at the best of times.

Wandering back down the stairway to the rotunda, I could see a few of Solas' affects taking up the low shadows of the room, his multiple staves taking up another, glinting in the low torch light. As I walked out, I could spy what looked like clay bowls and pots, lidded and carefully wrapped with wool. Resisting the urge to snoop through my friend's things (wouldn't want to be an annoyance), I headed into the main hall when a shadow came up along my left.

Varric grinned at me, the backlight of the sun framing him in an angelic light. A snort escaped me and I fought down a laugh, waiting for the dwarf to get within earshot. He raised an eyebrow at me, amusement on his face, but the tone of his voice was far from humor.

"My guest is here." He whispered, words tight. "Up in the battlements. If we could have but a moment of your time?" He bowed his head with a mock flap of his hand. Where did this come from? He's not normally so darkly sarcastic. Is he angry? I hadn't seen Varric use quite as much sarcasm on me. With a nod, I followed my dwarven friend from the main fort and through the scenery up to the battlements. The place was quiet, the main hustle of the fort being in the courtyards and gates below.

The wind whipped a little harder up at the top of the tower, the sunlight keeping our shadows close so as to avoid any suspicion. I tightened my coat around my body, my hair a wild mess around my ears and face, the chill biting my lips. Leliana's words floated back to me between the whispers of wind; I would have to take a great amount of care to make sure Cassandra didn't find out about this meeting while Varric was around. Lying to a Seeker was just out of the question.

"Good afternoon." The greeting came to me gently, the voice rumbling with deep exhaustion, honeyed with a warmth that came from sleep rather than charm, despite it being a little after midday. A swallow flashed down my throat, my gaze glued to the man in front of me; his visage was devastating, and not in the way many in my culture would have considered classically handsome.

"My name is Gaige Hawke, but I suspect you already know that." The grin was just as gentle. He slouched to one side, a hip cocked with his weight pressed against it, arms crossed at his broad chest. The tan skin had taken on a touch of burnt ends, darkened by dirt or sun over the last few years. The armor was bloodied, dried and old, scarred not just on the edges from use, but across his chest and a deep groove over his right thigh.

"I'm… Jaime Welton, Ser Hawke." My body stuttered as he smirked. Do we shake hands, do we bow? I know he was part of a noble family, but the story didn't give much else to work on. Hawke saved me; he reached out with an armored hand, clawed almost like a lizard's foot, for a shake. I took what I was offered, an embarrassed heat brushing up my cheeks.

"Please," he shook his head, "Hawke works just fine. It's good to finally meet you, Varric talks about you a lot." It was clearer now, as my gaze came up to his face. It wasn't a smirk that I spied on his mouth, but the upward tilt in place by a scar that reached his right eye. Part of it was hidden by the black scruff of beard coming in, and his copper-tinted green eyes masked a lot of flaws from his face with their intensity.

He sounds tired, but I've got no doubt he's on full alert. Yikes.

"All good things, I would hope." It was hard to relax in his presence. Was that my own anxiety or the sheer presence of the man himself? Varric wove tales taller than the trees when it came to his best friend whenever the opportunity rose, but there was a slim chance that any of those were actually exaggerated once someone stood next to Hawke.

"Mostly." Varric tweeted cheerfully from behind me. A roll of my eyes earned me a chuckle from Hawke and the man took the opportunity to lead me toward the outer edge of the battlement and gestured that I take a seat against the parapet wall. Weird images of being tossed over the wall flirted with my mind and I was just as quick to shove them out. No need to start making enemies with weird jokes or thoughts like that.

"How does one start this conversation, I wonder?" He turned toward me and I vehemently kept my eyes to the ground in front of me. There was an uncertainty that rolled through my stomach, nausea echoed up through my ribs and I could not fathom what was causing the turmoil. Magic? From the stories, from Varric, nothing about Hawke painted him a mage, only his sister Bethany managed to be born with it.

Until the light of my left palm flickered between my fingers.

"It's a mess." I said in lieu of my surprise. Of fucking course. He's new, he's not in the normal sphere of influence. I'm not used to him and his emotions. Fucking weird, batman, but I wasn't going to drop that bomb on an outsider, regardless if Varric trusted him or not.

"I'll agree with you there. I would have thought all of this would have ended with us, down in the Vimmark Mountains." He kicked his legs out and hooked his ankles together, his arms crossed again over his chest as he leaned back against the stone, his eyes turned up to the sky. The coiled muscles within my shoulders gently uncurled as his attention shifted from me.

"He's a tough sonovabitch, I'll give him that." I answered, smacking my right open palm against my left fist, trying to hide the light that glinted from within. The tails of my coat danced around my thighs. "Update, he's got a dragon now."

Hawke actually laughed. "Well, why wouldn't he? Every villain needs one." A brief pop of a smile touched my lips and I shrugged; didn't want to ruin the mood by mentioning said dragon had been pretty close to swallowing the upper half of my body in one bite.

"So. Dragon aside, we know he's got magic." I ticked up my thumb from my right hand, starting the count and following with the other fingers. "We know he's Tevinter, he's got the mages, and we know he's shit-balls crazy." Hawke ended up laughing harder with a clapped hand against his chest, perhaps at the fact that I had given my assessment with as straight of a face as I could.

"I see why Varric likes you," his eyes gleamed at me, highly amused, "very… ah, to the point."

"Told you she was a charmer." Varric grinned from the mouth of the stairway, waiting to deter any unwanted attention or visitors. Another harmless shrug from me and we were back to being somber, with Hawke reconsidering me out of the corner of his gaze.

"So." I aligned us back to the task at hand. "What can you tell me about our blighted asshole?"

"Blighted?" Hawke pinned me with a sharp side glance. He turned to Varric. "Is he?"

"I don't know." Varric replied, his gaze shifting to me for a moment. "I wasn't there. She's the only one that saw him." I frowned, throw me under the bus, will you? Though he wasn't wrong, even with the companions I had taken, no one had been with me when he trampled his way in and nearly stole my arm.

"He is, or at least I think he is." I answered, rolling up the sleeve of my coat on my left arm. The Mark glittered brightly against my skin, the scar stretched across my palm from Corypheus' attempts to rip the Anchor from my body. The lacerations from his claws marred my arm, jagged and knotted slices over the length of it, like a badly drawn tattoo-sleeve. Magic had healed most of it. Hawke peered over at my arm, a clawed hand reached out and hesitated just under my wrist.

I set my limb in his open palm for inspection. "He's got some big claws, too, but I don't think they're armor. He's got the red lyrium coming out of him like a old woman's pin-cushion."

"I remember." Hawke sighed, turning my arm over, but his eyes were clearly on my palm. "He had managed to catch Anders across the back with them once or twice. The blight wasn't — not like the red lyrium. He was just grotesque."

"You're telling me, he looks like a barnacle come to life." I took my arm back once Hawke released it, rolling down the sleeve against the chill of the wind. "But the blight does look new, because it's cracking some of his — what the fuck you call 'em?" I gestured to my chest, the massive plates that had shield the monster's body.

"I know what you mean. Yes, those weren't there before. Must've happened sometime between the last two or so years." Hawke speculated, tapping his chin with the curl of his index finger. "That means to tell me he must have been underground for sometime."

I blinked, spying Varric and snapping my fingers at him. "The — hey, that shit at the Temple? You said — it's the same shit, I bet. And at Therinfal, there was crates of it, they were distilling it to be drinking lyrium that they were poisoned with, now that I remember."

"Where in the Temple was the red lyrium appearing?" Hawke kept his gaze on me, expression dark.

"Not in it. The Temple had been blasted out, down to the ground level, so it was coming up — or exposed by the blast. You don't think he was hiding there the whole time, do you?" I asked, my brow shot up in alarm. Two years was a long time to go, but it didn't correlate with what Dorian had told me before. Agents, maybe? Could he have made a base in the Temple and then opportunity arose when the Divine showed up?

"Doubtful, that creature didn't seem the type to rest on his laurels." Hawke leaned back against the parapet wall, thoughtful. "Though that would explain how he was able to control the darkspawn."

"Fuck." I swore quietly. "You're serious?"

"Unfortunately. When we were at Vimmark, my group and I managed to kill him — however permanent that was, with some help with from the Grey Wardens." Hawke smiled slightly at my curse.

"Question; Anders? In Varric's story, he was affected by the Calling — did that happen to the other Wardens?" I asked, concern started to bloom at the bottom of my gut. Could Blackwall be in danger? Wardens are all connected through something that let's them fight the darkspawn and Corypheus can control that, but what?

Hawke nodded. "They were. He somehow used his connection to the darkspawn to influence them, tricks them into thinking they're dying. That's what the Calling is, from my understanding. The last moments before they turn into darkspawn themselves."

"How do you know that?" My brow pinched over my nose, my arms crossed across my pelvis.

"Bethany." Hawke sighed the name. "Grey Wardens are secretive, she can't tell me much, but she tells me enough." Electricity shot through my body with a violent bolt and my back straightened with a near-audible snap; his sister's a Warden!

"Do you know where they went?" I veered off topic like a drunkard, grasping for the thread of information. "Blackwall hasn't got the foggiest clue, but he's been in the Hinterlands for a while now. Is Bethany still with them?" Hawke hesitated, his eyes narrowed on my face. The muscles of my face suppressed a wince, stupid, he's going to think you're going to use her.

"She's good for it, Hawke." Varric came to my rescue, quiet from the stairs. "Jaime only wants information, she doesn't use people like that." Visibly, Hawke relaxed, his scarred face softening without a single look to his friend for second reassurances.

"No. The minute I found out that Corypheus could do such a thing, I sent word to Aveline and had her take Bethany and her closest Wardens out of Ferelden," he answered quietly. "When the Breach appeared, I imagine she was well away from the chaos."

"Would the Wardens have no interest in the Divine's Conclave?" I pressed for more information. Despite not having concrete information as to where she and any other Wardens had gone to, the fact that she was alive was a cookie crumble more than I had before to offer Leliana.

"According to Bethany, no." Hawke shook his head, "But Stroud says differently, given that the Wardens disappeared around the same time as the Breach appearing." Bits and pieces of the puzzle clattered together in my head, rattling and cracking like building blocks that I couldn't keep up in any shape. I'm missing something, there's a piece somewhere in the ether that I don't have yet. Damnit.

"Wardens disappear with the Breach. Mage circle breaks. Templars leave. Corypheus shows up." My mutterings were rushed under my breath, trying to sort through the ricocheting thoughts. "Templars hostage at Therinfal, mages enslaved at Redcliffe. Wardens gone. I'm still missing the Wardens, but where the fuck did they go?"

Hawke tilted his head, watching me. "Good to know you and I have the same priority. If the Wardens disappeared, he may have taken control of them again, or all those within reach."

"I can't work on maybes." I replied with a shake of my head, my gaze brought up from the ground. "I need proof. I need something, I can't go on a wild goose chase."

"I've got a friend in the Wardens who's still in the area." Hawke pursed his lips, his gaze flickering off my right shoulder for a moment. "He was investigating something unrelated for me. Stroud. Last we spoke, he was worried about corruption in the Warden ranks. Since then; nothing."

"Corypheus would certainly qualify as corruption in the ranks." Varric interjected, taking a few steps toward us. "Did your friend disappear with them?"

"No. He told me he'd be hiding in an old smuggler's cave near Crestwood." Hawke placed his hands on his hips. "He's been on the run since before the Conclave, hiding from his kin."

"If he's hiding, what did you have him investigating?" I asked, confused. All of that sounded counterproductive. The wind picked up a bit around us, the sun had crawled through the sky from midday to the first sigh of evening, the fort rapidly cooling around us.

"When you mentioned the red lyrium earlier, I asked about it because the Templars in Kirkwall were using a strange form of lyrium as well. It was red." Hawke explained, his voice pitched low against the wind. The words carried to me easily as they floated between us. Another chill stole up my back and I glanced at Varric. The dwarf nodded, his mouth set into a grim line of guilt.

"The Templars at Therinfal, they looked like bloated masses, red spears of the lyrium coming up from their chests and it seemed to swallow them whole." I murmured, watching his face. His temples twitched and a fanged tooth flashed under his scruffed lips in a silent snarl.

"One in the same. They transformed right before my eyes as we fought." Hawke spat darkly. "I thought it would end at Kirkwall. It seems my mistakes never leave me."

"Can you get me to your friend?" I derailed him, keeping him from wallowing in his sorrow. I could empathize with him, truly, but we were on the cusp of something that could salvage the situation we had with Corypheus. "I'll take any lead I can get at the moment."

"Good." Hawke nodded. "I'll do whatever I can to help."

-0-

I left Varric and Hawke to their conversation not long after we set up the details to find Stroud. A bird or more later, Hawke would have confirmation that Stroud was back in Crestwood before leading us out there. I would need to update my War Council about the situation on the Wardens, Leliana specifically. My ribs and lungs vibrated with nerves, stealing my breath as I made my way down from the battlements, quiet and in deep contemplation.

So deep, it seemed, that I didn't spy a certain Qunari come up behind me, his shadow overtaking mine. I hadn't noticed his hand come to my shoulder, either, but at least I was alert enough to come around in a spin to elbow his gut when his hand finally dropped against my neck. It barely phased him as he bent with my blow, but his wheezing laugh sent a shot of heat through my stomach and to my knees.

"You asshole!" I hissed, smacking his shoulder with the back of my hand for good measure. "Why are you sneaking up on me!"

"Sneaking!" Bull wheezed, another hiccuping laugh catching his words. "For once, honest, I wasn't — I came right up behind you like a normal person." He straightened, but kept a hand over the small patch of muscle I had slammed with my elbow.

"There's nothing normal about coming up behind someone." I groused, flushed red to my ears. "You could have called out or something, shit."

"I did," Bull stressed, greatly and terribly amused at my expense. "I even used your name and you just kept on walkin'. Something big on your mind, boss?" And just as quick as the heat of embarrassment flashed through me, so did the cold crack of rain to douse it. Ben Hassrath. Spy. How much could I tell the Qunari about the Wardens and Corypheus? I had no doubt in my mind about his people already knowing about the demon-mage, but what else would he tell them?

I need to talk to Leliana.

"Something big, yeah." I answered, going for the half-truth and omitting the rest. "Leliana is going to have to help me sort it. What — time is it? What are you doing out here?" With a glance around, the dusky evening blanketed us from above, the frost swirling around our ankles as the temperature continued to fall, the distant cheers and singing from the tavern not far off.

"Looking for you." He rumbled, his head tilted to one side, smirk faint. "Haven't seen you in two or three weeks and this is how I'm greeted? That's unfair, I heard Krem got a hug."

"Fuck you," I said intelligently, my gut churning violently, my ears about to melt off. "I saw that you got back a few days ago, you didn't say anything then."

His brow went up over his eye-patch. "Well, what with the ceremony and the rebuilding, I figured you'd be busy and would come to see me when you weren't." I hated this, I felt a rope around my neck tugging me in and there was a desperation to keep myself from tumbling forward into his flirting. My heart thundered in my ears at the implications. He does not mean it that way, so get right the fuck off that train of thought, thirsty-ass.

"Poof," I tried weakly, flapping my arms once. "I'm here to see you. See? Magic." It earned me a snorting, hardline laugh. I wasn't sure if it was better or worse, I was trying to distract him and all I ended up doing was distracting myself. My eyes closed for a moment, pressed tightly together; I'm so far in this isn't even funny anymore.

"I think what you need is a drink, boss." Bull clapped a hand on my shoulder and shook me slightly. My body swayed under his grip and a heavy sigh slipped from my lips.

"I dunno, maybe. Did you already get set up in the tavern, then?" I asked, but a mischievous smirk flashed across his lips for the barest second. He released my shoulder only enough to turn me around with his fingers and push me forward.

"Not quite. I got something to show you that I think is going to help." Bull's hand ran down the length of my back to rest on the dip just before my hips. A line of fire had followed the edge of his hand all the way down and it took whatever shreds of willpower I had left by the end of it not to shiver. Motherfucker either doesn't know what he's doing to me or he does and I'm gonna kill him in his sleep.

His hand left my back as he stepped around to lead, "We should have something in your size."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I shot him a hard glance. He only grinned and led us toward the dungeons of the fort. A frown touched my mouth; the Chargers had taken up in the dungeons. They weren't a large company, maybe fifty men or so altogether, and the cells were numerous enough to house all of them. Unsurprisingly, when I entered the dungeons behind Bull, the Chargers greeted him with friendly calls.

When I was spotted behind him, the crowd erupted into cat-calls.

"Shut the hell up, you tits!" I snapped at them over the teasing, a grin slapped to my face. These fuckers. Laughter broke out around us and the faintest thought whispered through the back of my mind; what do they see that I don't? Surely they aren't taking the flirting seriously, right? I ignored the thought and followed Bull as he came around to the first nearest cell, the one I assumed he had taken for himself.

"Uh, Bull." I teased, laughing. "You do realize people are gonna see, right?"

"What, not into voyeurism?" He tossed back, leaning over at the chest by the foot of his bedding. My eyebrow rose in surprise, he sleeps on the floor here, too? It must've been the horns. Sleeping on any kind of 'conventional' bed would be a nightmare trying to turn or twist. Might just lay on his stomach when he sleeps.

And we were going to walk away from that thought at lightning speed. Yup.

"Here we are." Bull held up a very battered, weathered piece of clothing and welded armor. He looked over at me expectantly. Suspiciously, the group of mercenaries behind me had gone unnaturally quiet. Not quite silent, surely trying to play the part of polite eavesdroppers, but they weren't fooling me.

"What?" Fear flashed through me. "Are you expecting me to wear that?"

"Yes." He returned, placing it into my numb, unexpecting hands. "Humor me."

"I sure as hell know you're not expecting me to change here!" I hissed, snatching the clothes from his grip, clutching them to my chest. "What the hell do I gotta wear this for?"

"There isn't really anywhere else to change. And it's not like I'm asking you to strip naked." Bull rumbled with humor, pleased with himself. He stepped around me and stood at the entrance of the cell, facing the outside of the cell. He was broad enough to block most of it, leaving me with enough privacy to change.

"... you're such a sonovabitch." I grumbled, wondering how I got roped into this mess. His chuckle floated over his shoulder and I turned away from him to hastily worm my way into the foreign clothing. The pants were just a inch too short, the tunic I had to tie to keep at my hips because tucking it in wasn't an option, and the chestplate winded me when I dropped it over my head.

"There," I griped, "now I really do look like an idiot."

"Nah, c'mon, boss." Bull turned to me, giving me a once over with his eye, "You look just fine."

"Can you please tell me what we're doing?" I asked. Bull shook his head and crooked his index finger at me to follow once more. My lips pouted and in his shadow I ghosted away from the cell, flipping off a rude gesture to the few laughing Chargers as I tripped in my boot laces. Outside, the sky had darkened from the blush of sunset to night, the moon peeking behind the main tower of the fort.

"You'll see." He answered once I was through the door he held open for me. "It'll be worth your time, I promise." Curiosity piqued, I remained silent and faithfully followed at his side, minding my steps to keep behind him, unsure of whatever attention would spy me in my weird garb.

"We've got a new batch of recruits." He began to explain as we walked the length of the courtyard to come down the stairs toward the stables. "Red had sent word that there were a collection of them on the outskirts of Orlais that needed an escort. I caught them on my way back."

Surprised, I turned to look up at him, "Recruits? From where?"

"All over." Bull shrugged. We passed the stables quietly to keep the horses from spooking. There was a darkened passage, a tunnel that cut through one part of the belly of the fort, leading out into the 'backyard' as it was designated by the friendlies. It was the expanse of land more than a league or so in length that housed our civilians and excess of low-priority people. New soldiers, recruits, and pilgrims set up tents from one end to the next.

There was a designated mess area near the center of the little makeshift village. Soldiers and civilians wandered around from end to end, some with supplies, others just tired, and some moving on to their next shift. Dots of people sat on crates and barrels, huddled together for warmth and comfort, their conversations low buzzes as we passed. Not a single one of them watched me as we walked past, but all their eyes would glance at Bull. He brought us up to a pair that sat together over a small table, his body shifting to a relaxed posture.

"Evening." He greeted, taking a seat. I bounced around him quickly to sit on his left side on a barrel. "Iron Bull, we're the merc band that just joined up." I knew a cover story when I heard one, so quietly I took up his left side and waited, glancing between him and the recruits.

"Tanner. I'm from Jader." The youngest answered, freckle-faced and pale, with new armor. "Well, near Jader."

"Mira." The other answered, the voice low and rough. Her face was scarred all along the right side, one eye dropping from the pull of skin. "I was a guard-captain for Lady Pendell. Signed on after shit blew up at the Conclave." Surprised, I glanced at her. Her voice was articulate, measured, with an accent that the young man didn't have. Separate worlds, then.

"Who's your friend?" Tanner popped in, his gaze drifted to me. I tucked my chin in, mouth small. Bull, I'm not sure what part you're expecting me to play here! The 'Herald' didn't have a uniform, and the sleeves of the tunic I wore were long enough that the Mark was hidden away, so I was a nobody for the moment.

The Qunari shot me a look, then grinned, "This is Grim. She doesn't talk much."

Ah. Noted.

I grunted, screwing my mouth into a sideways frown.

The flash of a pleased grin on Bull's face was gone in a second after I noticed it, "So! You ready to kill some demons or Venatori… or whatever that Corypheus asshole is?" Mira leaned forward on her table's side, her hardened gaze inspecting Bull with a critical eye before she shook her head.

"This isn't about killing." She explained firmly. "We're helping the Inquisitor save the world and build the next Empire." The second grunt that escaped me was more surprise than play-acting. That had been a resolute statement, no questions asked, she knew exactly what she was meant to do. I turned to Bull, eyes wide.

"Well, long as I get paid, I'm happy." He ignored my look, picking up the conversation. "That's why I signed up." Omitting truths and giving half of an answer that sounded like a full one. Surely they would find out who he was later, the longer they stayed, but for now it would work to play as just a hireling.

What are we looking for, Ben-Hassrath?

Tanner nodded his head this time, "I just couldn't spend my whole life on a farm. Needed to live a little, you know?" With that, my ribs cracked and my heart shuddered. Good to know being a killer didn't take my heart. I kinda wish it did, though. He was young, and now I wondered how young. He didn't sport as many scars on his face as Mira did and his experience was irritated farm animals, not demons.

I wanted to ask so many questions; why show up here? Why alone? Why did you leave home? Why! Bull must have seen the distress building up in my gaze.

"What about you, Mira?" Bull deflected, shifting my attention to the veteran. "Why'd you join up? I thought you were serving some noble?" The older woman considered the question, not as quickfire as her counterpart across the table. She folded her hands together, her heavy gaze shifting between Bull and myself. A mental note flared at the back of my mind; I need to tell Leliana about her. She's cautious. Assessing. Scary.

"I saw what happened at Haven." Her lips turned white as they pressed tight for a moment. "The Inquisitor staring down that monster and his archdemon…" Her head turned toward me, but I tipped my chin down to avoid her gaze. Does she recognize me, then? Are the clothes enough? I knew what she would see, and it would give our whole cover away. My teeth clenched tight and my jaw cracked. I had never stopped to think about what the soldiers saw when Haven fell.

Bull's heat at my side branded me as he shifted closer, our arms brushed together. I haven't asked what happened to him or the others, either. I just assumed they were dealing with it, like I was. Fuck. I'm an asshole. Gently, my elbow grazed his and I shifted away, no sense in creating rumors so early with new recruits.

"I don't sing The Chant of Light as much as I should, but you can't see something like that and not believe." Mira finished, her gaze focused on her laced fingers. I lifted my head, peering at her and though I didn't know her well enough to tell, the Mark was clear with what she felt: sorrow. I held my teeth together to bite back my tears.

Bull rescued me as he stood, "Well, it's getting late. Grim and I should find our tents. Thanks for your time." There was no hesitation and I attempted to leave my seat as calmly as I could, walking in the wake of my Qunari as he twisted his way around the tents, breaking our line of sight with the soldiers and making his way back toward the main fort. My hands wiped at my dry face, phantom tears setting off my paranoia.

What a contrast between the two. My heart thudded away in my chest painfully and I raised a hand to hold over it, rubbing against the tunic. Mira. Worn. Battle-tested. Veteran. I could feel the guilt and her pain. She wants to repent for the things she hasn't done. Oh, my poor creature.

And Tanner. I wasn't sure if his recruitment was impulse or premeditated action. Did he see the passing troops and grab his bag to run with them? His armor was new. Did he purchase that on his own or did his family gear him up for this cause? Someone sent their son off to war. I didn't have any kids myself, but I couldn't imagine my younger brother disappearing into the folds of the military.

Bull led us back out and the shadows of the main fort of Skyhold came over us. I trailed after him, silent as a mouse with my hands held to my chest in thought. I heard more than I saw his footsteps stop, but I walked forward and once my forehead hit the middle of his back, I stopped. A ragged inhale shook my lungs, I hadn't realized I was shaking until Bull's steady breathing was a comparison point.

We stood there, silent in the shadows for a good while before he turned to face me, stepping away as I looked up, exhausted by the day's events. Why did we do this? What purpose did it serve? Were you trying to teach me something? A fluttering thought echoed between the speeding ones: he's helping you, he's trying to ground you. He considered me with his only eye, the normal teasing humor muted in his expression.

"I know every soldier under my command." He started, voice low. "You don't have that option, now as Inquisitor… but a few faces might help." For a split second, my shoulders bunched against my neck, a slash of accusation at the tip of my tongue for the stress. Reason fogged the anger when my thoughts proved true, he had only been trying to help. It's harder to tell yourself to keep going, but easier to watch someone else try. A hard sigh ripped through my mouth instead, I brought my palms to my temples and pressed inward.

"... thank you, Bull." I finally answered, the vinyl record crack in my voice. "This was… good."

Bull tilted his head, the same assessing tint in his gaze. "Gives you a bit of perspective, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," I nodded my head, my hands falling to my side as our gazes met. "People like Tanner are looking for an easy win, but… veterans like Mira know better, and are cautious. I'm… going to pass her along to Leliana." There was a beat of silence before a near feral, proud, toothy smirk shaped his mouth.

"Right you are. Good eye, boss." He lauded, the smirk strong. "You've got a good army coming along. Remember that, no matter what comes next." A strange sort of twisted affection knotted my gut and turned it into loops. A warm, distant sadness followed it as a slow and devastating realization claimed me.

"Yeah," I forced myself to say, a painted smile switched on to my face. "Thank you, Bull. Have a good night."

"Good night, boss." He smiled this time, tipping his head as if his horns were a hat and patted my shoulder before leaving me in my puddle of distress and frantic internal seizuring. I waited until he was out of earshot and I was halfway up the courtyard to my tent before slapping my hands over my face.

I'm in love.

Fuck.

Fuckity fuck.