Aaaaand a bit more NSFW stuff in this chapter too…
Chapter Six: En Route
The Iron Bull examined Rosalie with care as he walked around her in a slow circle, looking for any sign of discomfort or unhappiness. A little apprehension was normal. Breathing a little faster was to be expected, as was the quickened pulse he'd felt when he'd briefly pressed his fingers to her neck when he'd finished tying the ropes. But given that she was a Bard - someone trained to make people believe what they wanted to believe - he had to be sure. Especially now that they were getting into kinkier territory.
She was quite the sight, he had to admit as he stepped back to admire his handiwork. Down on her knees like that, blindfolded with a silk sash, the ropes he'd tied forming a harness around her breasts and binding her arms together behind her back.
She was, he was certain, not entirely comfortable - nor was comfort the intent. But as long as she was focused on keeping her spine straight and her chin up - on presenting him with the best view possible, in other words - her mind would be on him, and not on the fact that they were staying at some country inn in a village he didn't even know the name of on their way to the Winter Palace in Halamshiral. That was what she needed, at least for a while. If he could exhaust her enough that she got some decent sleep afterwards too, even better.
They were lucky to have a room to themselves. Given how the Inquisition had descended on the little country inn with almost no notice, she was one of only a very few to be granted her own room. Rosalie's companions were three to a room, while the soldiers that were accompanying them from Skyhold were camping in the surrounding fields.
They were lucky to have the room, and Bull intended to put it to good use.
Once he was standing behind her, he leaned down enough that his breath fell on her ear as he asked in an especially low rumble, "Wondering what's in store?"
She nodded, and he watched the goosebumps slowly spread over her shoulders and arms.
His lips caressed the lobe of her ear as he asked, "Scared?"
"I trust you," she breathed.
That was true, he realized for the first time. On multiple occasions now she'd let him take her. For the second time, she was letting him bind her. This time, she couldn't even see him.
That held immense meaning for someone who feared that he would surrender to chaos and madness, who without the order of the Qun might become like the Tal-vashoth he had seen in Seheron. Here, a woman who was trained to read people, trained not to trust anyone, was placing her safety, her life, in his hands. It meant a great deal. What was more, he knew he could never succumb to that darkness inside him if it meant endangering her.
Dipping his head down, he lavished her neck with kisses and teasing bites. He wrapped his arms around her and settled his hands on her thighs, smoothing slowly over petal-soft skin, down towards her knees. There, he parted her legs, and his hands began to work their way back up to the place where he knew his touch would make her shudder in his grip.
As her head tilted back and she began to whimper, the hand that wasn't toying with her below snapped up to envelope her throat, forcing her head back further. His thumb and forefinger gripped the sides of her neck and gave a gentle squeeze and release, only for as long as the space of one breath. She gasped in shock as Bull let go of her throat, but didn't stop dancing his fingers around her pearl.
With a grin, he pressed a kiss to her temple and murmured, "One word and all of this stops any time you need it to."
Rosalie grinned. "You are going to have to try a lot harder than that if you- nhh!" Her sentence was interrupted as Bull slipped a finger inside her, finding her slick with desire already.
"If I what?" he asked in a growl, his hand settling at her throat ready to squeeze once more.
"If you want me to say our watchword," she told him.
Bull chuckled. The trust she'd placed in him went both ways. He knew she felt safe with him, knew she'd tell him if that changed. With her back pressed against his chest he could feel her breathing, feel that she wasn't panicked. She wasn't lying or trying to impress him when she spoke like that. She was inviting him to explore her limits.
He crooked his finger inside her, easily finding that slightly rough spot within that seemed to make her melt in his arms when he stroked it. Rosalie whimpered and sagged into him.
She was inviting him to explore her limits, and Bull had a lot of ideas. "Want to play a game, boss?"
Later, probably hours later if Bull was any judge, Rosalie reached that point where enough was enough. She never told him she'd reached that point, their watchword had still gone unspoken, but he could tell that it was time to stop.
He massaged some lotion into her skin as he peeled away the ropes. They'd inevitably left their marks, but nothing that had bruised or broken the skin. He adored the way she smelled after sex. He adored the limp heaviness of her limbs as he tended to them, the way they flopped against the mattress as he released them. She was completely relaxed, and he was proud to know that it was his doing.
Once she was fully untied, he lay down beside her on the bed, unable to resist hugging her close before scooping her up off the mattress to lie on top of him instead. She wasn't quite asleep yet, but she was too out of it to really notice.
It was only then that Bull realized how tired he was. His eyes drifted shut and he let himself doze for a while. He hadn't intended to sleep through until morning. That part had just sort of happened.
When he opened his eyes again, Rosalie was already awake, a smile on her face as she idly traced her fingers over the scars on his body. "Morning," he murmured fondly.
"How have you not told me the stories behind any of these yet?" she asked, tracing a finger along the long scar that ran horizontally beneath his left nipple.
"You weren't ever trained to recognize wounds by what caused them?" he asked, figuring it was obvious that an enemy blade had sliced him open years ago back in Seheron.
She shook her head, then dipped her head to kiss the scar. "I could guess? Let's see… You… tried to butt horns with a druffalo? It was a baking incident that the Chargers aren't allowed to talk about? No, no, I have it. A sex injury from fooling around in bed with other Qunari. I'm right, yes?"
A fond smile came to his lips. He'd never seen her being playful…. silly even, before now. He doubted this was a side of Rosalie many got to see. "Actually, it was-"
He was interrupted by a knock on the door that made Rosalie's eyes widen in panic. "Rosalie, darling," Vivienne's voice called from the other side. "We've brought you some dresses to try."
"Just a minute!" the Inquisitor called, then hopped up and frantically searched for where her nightdress had landed after Bull had tugged it off and tossed it aside. "Hide!" she hissed at Bull.
Bull just looked confused. "How?" He wasn't exactly someone who could fit under a bed or be easily concealed by a curtain, after all. And it wasn't like her suite at Skyhold where he could hide in the cupboard or out on the balcony if need be. Her room at the inn was pretty small, in fact.
She tugged the nightdress on over her head, then tossed his pants at him - inevitably aiming too high and getting them caught on his horns - before moving to the door and opening it just enough to peek out.
"Still in bed at this hour?" Bull heard Vivienne say as he worked to free his pants from his horn. He was able to get them down, hop to his feet, and tug them up to his waist just in time that the woman wasn't given an eyeful as she pushed her way into the room.
Vivienne paused as she saw Bull standing there, her eyebrows rising. "I see," she said in that tone that managed to sound amused and disapproving at the same time.
Bull straightened up, clasping his hands behind his back, automatically standing to attention at her arrival. "Ma'am," he greeted her.
Before Rosalie could ask where the dresses were, Vivienne turned to the door and clapped her hands. Instantly a seamstress and several assistants rolled a rack of dresses into the room and popped up a changing screen on one side of the room. Then Vivienne considered Rosalie for a moment, then nodded. "As promised, I'm introducing you to my seamstress, my dear. Madame Sophistiqué, the Inquisitor. Inquisitor Rosalie, Madame Sophistiqué."
The two women shook hands as Vivienne continued to speak. "She's going to ensure that all of Thedas is speaking of your flawless fashion sense." She snapped her fingers and gestured at the rack, then told the seamstress, "The midnight blue, I think. The backless one."
At the word backless, a little grunt of approval escaped Bull before he could stop it. Vivienne briefly glared in his direction, then shuffled Rosalie behind the screen. Bull twiddled his fingers and shared a friendly nod with the assistants Vivienne had summoned into the room as he waited patiently for Rosalie to emerge.
"Ah… Oh my!" he heard the seamstress say.
"Darling, what are those marks all down your back?" he then heard Vivienne chide. The light would be dimmer behind the screen, so he doubted the enchanter could make out the patterns the ropes had left in Rosalie's skin. "Goodness, they're all down your arms as well. We can't have the entire court staring and whispering to each other about your love life."
Ah, so she could make them out, he thought with an internal chuckle. He had to smirk, feeling a bit proud of himself, even if he was sure this was all quite inconvenient for Vivienne.
"The emerald green, I think, next, darling," Vivienne continued. "Clearly jewel tones are the best choice for her colouring, and the capelet should cover up all of that." There was a murmur of approval from Madame Sophistiqué, who appeared from behind the screen and hurried to the dress rack.
That was when Leliana appeared in the doorway. "A gown is the wrong choice," she announced.
Vivienne's head poked out from behind the screen. "My dear, are you quite serious? This is the Inquisitor's chance to show the world the flawless, beautiful, strong leader that she is. Surely you wouldn't have her march out before Empress Celene herself in the same tired armour she wears to trek across the Hinterlands?" She seemed quite aghast at the thought.
"It isn't about how the Inquisitor looks, but the Inquisition as a whole. We will go in matching dress uniforms. A show of strength and unity to make any would-be assassin think twice."
That was when Bull saw Rosalie step out from behind the changing screen and his jaw dropped open. Sure, he liked her in the armour she wore, and out of it, and wrapped up in ropes or ribbons, and especially with her legs wrapped around him… but this was a side of her he hadn't seen before. This was how Rosalie looked in the bard world; a raven-haired beauty who wore a ballgown like a second skin, perfectly at ease drawing the stares of those around her. One he couldn't take his eyes off, ropeburns or no.
Vivienne turned to face her and said, "Inquisitor, I hope you're not truly considering-"
"Leliana's right," Rosalie said firmly, and Bull caught the spymaster and Inquisitor exchange an oddly conspiratorial glance with one another. "Uniforms would send a stronger message about the might of the Inquisition. Our primary mission isn't to present me in front of the Empress and her court, but to save Orlais from being plunged into chaos. Anyone up to no good will think twice before attempting anything in front of one of our uniforms."
There was another reason, Bull's spy-senses informed him, something Rosalie and Leliana both knew, but which neither wanted to bring up in front of everyone else.
Vivienne soon conceded, much to her chagrin, and Leliana offered to show Madame Sophistiqué some designs Josephine had apparently sketched. The racks of dresses were removed, and Bull soon found himself alone in the room with Rosalie once again.
"There was something you didn't say just then," he noted, stepping forward to touch a hand to her cheek. "That whole show of strength and unity stuff… I mean, yeah, makes sense. But it's not just for whoever's working for Corypheus."
"It's for the man who sent me to the conclave. And for me," she murmured. He appreciated that she hadn't just brushed the query aside. "To remind me that I'm not alone. To make sure he knows that I'm part of something bigger now, that I don't have to jump every time he snaps his fingers."
"Or when anyone does," he murmured, glad that she and Leliana were finally working together on this. That seemed better for everyone.
Rosalie looked up at him with half-lidded eyes. "Except for when I'm alone with you."
Bull matched her expression, then walked in a slow circle until he was behind her, his fingers idly tracing along the the ropeburns marking her exposed back. "This dress, boss, this works for me." Not least because he could practically see the shiver travel down her spine as he said it. His hands landed on her hips and tugged her against him so that her bare skin was pressed against the heat of his bare chest. "They left it. You think it's yours to keep now?"
She leaned into him. "A perk of being the Inquisitor, perhaps?"
His hands bunched in the skirts and began to tug them upwards.
"Bull…" she laughed. "It's morning. We'll have to be on the road again soon!"
"Don't worry. What I have in mind won't even involve getting you out of this dress." Abruptly he spun her around, picked her up and tossed her onto the bed, where she landed with a bounce. He answered her yelp at being manhandled with a deep, rumbly growl. Then his hands slid up beneath her skirts, stroking their way up her legs. "Scream into the pillow if you need to, boss. I think the walls here are pretty thin." He parted her legs and ripped those pesky smalls of hers away. "Or don't. Up to you."
At that, he put his tongue to use for something other than talking.
The rest of Rosalie's day was taken up by travelling and answering people's questions. She found herself glad that she'd taken the time to tumble with Bull while they'd had the chance. Even with all the Inquisition's leadership on the road, there were messengers arriving for them with urgent matters that needed their attention. There was plenty that couldn't wait for them to arrive back at Skyhold's war table.
By day's end, they were much closer to Halamshiral, but not near enough to any inn or tavern that could accommodate them, which meant that everyone had to camp.
There were several campfires around the place, but Rosalie found herself drawn to the one where someone was playing a lute. Well... perhaps playing was a strong word. There were strings and someone was plucking them, but it didn't take a musician to tell that that person had never been given a lute lesson in their life. Nor did they seem to care, judging by the fact their enthusiasm for playing so terribly hadn't yet dwindled.
Perhaps it shouldn't have been a surprise when she drew close and found Sera, blonde locks glowing in the dim light of the fire, a lute in her lap - though she was holding it backwards. Rosalie approached on soft feet to sit down beside the archer, who looked up with a silly grin on her face.
"There's you, yeah," she said by way of greeting.
"Where did you get the lute?" Rosalie asked curiously.
Sera let out a wicked giggle that Rosalie found oddly endearing. "Let's just say someone needed a manners lesson and now I have a new toy. Only I'm rubbish." Suddenly she pushed the instrument into Rosalie's hands and sang, "Your turn."
Rosalie chuckled. Her sister, Lila, was the far more accomplished musician, but she could also play a little. She settled the lute in her lap and her fingers on the strings, then plucked each one in turn to find that they were, remarkably, still in tune. "Let's see..."
She began with a finger exercise, one of those silly little ditties one was taught to help their fingers become accustomed to switching between the notes. Repetitive and not all that impressive, but at least not offensive to the ears.
"Hey, that's all right, that," Sera noted, sounding reluctantly impressed. "Noble types get lessons, yeah? Must do."
"Something like that," she replied. It was easier to let her think that, at least. The truth was that it had been something she and her sister had learned as children, before they'd ever come to Orlais or been dragged into high society and the Game surrounding it.
From there, she began to pluck out a pretty melody in a three-four rhythm; just the sort of thing a couple could waltz to. One of the very tunes the couples on the dancefloor would be dancing to the following night at the ball, she expected. Here, under the stars and surrounded by campfires, the smell of cooking stew, and dozens of sweaty soldiers peeling themselves out of their mail, it seemed ridiculously far removed from such glamour.
Though perhaps less so once Vivienne arrived with Iron Bull in tow.
"Are you sure about this, ma'am?" he asked as she placed one of his hands on her tiny waist and linked the other with hers. "If I step on your toes, I might actually break them."
"Then you'll just have to be careful, darling, won't you?" she countered, then reminded him, "Step, step, turn…"
He gave a serious nod, then replied, "Step, shuffle, spin, ma'am."
At that, they began to dance, which prompted Sera to stick out her tongue, blow a raspberry, then announce that she was hungry and hop to her feet to run off in search of food.
Rosalie just smiled and kept playing the melody in a loop, content to watch Bull and Vivienne. The look of serious concentration on his face was really very sweet, with just a hint of worry like he was genuinely frightened of hurting his partner. He needn't have worried; from the looks of things his feet already knew what they were doing without him needing to stare down at them, which was always the hard part.
After a while, she felt someone sit down beside her. They'd approached on such soft feet, she hadn't heard them coming, which surprised her enough to miss a note or two. Not a mistake her sister would have made.
"He is more than meets the eye, your Iron Bull, no?" Leliana asked once Rosalie's playing had recovered.
"Aren't we all?" the Inquisitor murmured in response.
"Truer words were never spoken." The spymaster scrutinized Rosalie for a moment, then nodded. "You seem relaxed considering what tomorrow will bring."
"As relaxed as I can be," she agreed. Bull's recent efforts to leave her passed out from exhaustion were helping a great deal, but she wasn't about to tell Leliana that. "Knowing I have the Inquisition at my back is a great help. That was a good decision about the uniforms, by the way."
The other woman nodded. "It will send a strong message about your loyalties."
"With any luck, he won't interfere." Rosalie didn't sound hopeful, because she wasn't. Mathis was too ambitious not to at least make an attempt to use her newfound power and influence to his own advantage, and too clever not to use her sister against her to do it.
"You have me," Leliana reminded her, giving her a pat on the forearm, one gentle enough to not interfere with her playing. "I could not face my bard master without a friend's support either."
"The Hero of Ferelden?" Rosalie guessed.
That brought a fond smile to Leliana's lips - not an expression Rosalie was used to seeing on her. Things had been dire and the Divine's death had hit her hard, after all. "There is no one in the world I trust more," said the spymaster.
"You know, a lot of people in Val Royeaux don't realize that Sister Nightingale and the Leliana who helped the Hero defeat the archdemon are the same person. I imagine that's partly your doing," Rosalie mused.
"Perhaps," was all Leliana said in response to that, though the way the corner of her mouth lifted in amusement told Rosalie she was right.
"The Leliana who helped defeat the archdemon was said to be a bard and an accomplished musician," Rosalie added.
Leliana raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking me to sing for you?"
"Well… put it this way… These two don't look like they've finished practicing and this is the only ballroom friendly song I know how to play," Rosalie answered with a grin. "Up to you if you'd like to hear me play it another seven times in a row or not."
"Blackmail!" Leliana gasped mockingly. "And just as we were starting to trust one another."
The words were spoken in jest, but Rosalie was still touched by them. "More just honesty about my skill level. You did ask me to be honest with you, yes?" she countered as she brought the melody she was playing to its natural conclusion.
On the other side of the campfire, Vivienne and Iron Bull parted from their hold, and Bull bowed to his dance partner. Rosalie gave Leliana a pleading look, and Leliana simply sighed and rolled her eyes in a good-humoured sort of way. "You know Josephine is going to bother me to play at Skyhold now," she complained as she accepted the lute and settled it in her lap.
"I fail to see how that could be a bad thing. It would liven things up when I need to make judgements from that throne."
Leliana tested the strings one by one, then began to play with a flourish of fast picking before she settled into a new melody. "You are saying then that Avaar men throwing goats at the castle is not interesting enough for you?" she teased.
"It was only one goat," Rosalie was quick to point out.
"It seems your Iron Bull has taken quite well to the dancing," Leliana noted, nodding ahead to where Bull was twirling Vivienne around. "Now we only need to find you someone to practice with, yes? A good bard master would tell you it's important not to let your skills become rusty."
"That's fine. I'd really rather just-"
"Oh, Josephine!" Leliana called before Rosalie could finish her sentence.
Rosalie sighed, rose to her feet and bowed to Leliana. "As you command, my lady."
At that, she crossed to where Josephine was speaking with Cullen and Cassandra. "My lady, if I may have this dance?" Rosalie asked, bowing deeply before offering out her hand.
A bright smile came to Josephine's face. "It would be my pleasure, Inquisitor." At that she let Rosalie pull her up and into a hold, and the two began to dance to the music. "You and Leliana have been getting along much better the last few days, I've noticed," the ambassador said once the two of them seemed to have settled into their steps.
Rosalie glanced over her shoulder to where Leliana sat, noting the woman looked rather lonely now, all alone with her lute. "We have," she admitted, smiling faintly. I hope we can still say that by the time this mission is over.