The Iron Bull;

There was something different in her drinking that night, an urgency he didn't quite understand. It bled into her smile, dulled her eyes but she seemed to be enjoying herself, as usual. Earlier she had entered the tavern, towing Cole behind her. Without wasting any time she had ordered the musician in the corner to strike up a tune. The boy looked exceedingly uncomfortable, but those around them formed a two circles, pulling the spirit and the Inquisitor with them. Soon the boy was smiling as much as she was, finally getting the hand of the Remigold. The Iron Bull had never seen her quite so human as she had been in the Fade, singing the songs Cole loved, changing the words to call him back to them. The boy had become lost only days before, Solas had needed Raen's help to get him back from the other side, she'd brought Bull with her. He'd never much been a fan of mage business but he wasn't going to let the spirit kid down. She had killed the boy's tormentors with no remorse and helped him bury his sister, holding the kid all the while. She had said something about not being lucky, being a runner. She showed him a memory, or a dream- the Fade shifted around them, her nightmares bled into his and Bull was grateful he was not a mage. The estate was pretty, the sight they found inside it was not. A boy of no more than ten was wrapping a rope around the neck of a tiny little girl whose eyes glowed like the rising sun. Her arms were covered in scabs and cuts but she did not struggle, did not call for help even though she clearly saw them watching. She let him throw the rope wound the rafters of a nearby building, hoisting her off the ground. Bull had drawn his battle axe, intending to cut the girl down. But Raen had placed a gentle hand on his bicep, and the dream was gone as quickly as she had summoned. She had said they could not run anymore, and the boy had held her, placing his chin upon her head, telling her he would not forget again. Bull had wanted to ask so many times who those children were. Sera had said something once that made him think he knew the answer.

She showed no signs of slowing in the early hours of the morning and had sent Cole to bed already. The look on her face suggested she was beyond remembering the rules Cassandra had set for her, and was dancing with a couple of Rivaini women. They beat their own bodies, chest and thighs, seeming to bend the earth with their feet in sharp, flat movements- spinning it into something beautiful. Her hips rocked as they turned, moving in synchronisation. He'd seen Rivaini dancing before but not like that. When she tired she had taken a spot upon the table he was sitting at just before two strangers entered the tavern.

"All I'm saying is, maybe she knew the guy, it wouldn't surprise me with all the favouritism that goes on around here." One of them was a spindly redhead; the other was a burly bald man- both were human.

"Damn the bastard bitch, she should have made that bloody mage tranquil anyway! She should be made bloody tranquil herself if what they say about the Qunari is true." They seemed perfectly unaware that the particular bastard bitch and Qunari they were talking about, though he didn't know how they could know anything about them considering neither of them ever stayed the night nor did they do much to encourage rumours in public. He didn't think he was the only one whose name strangers connected to hers in whispers and insinuations, it didn't really bother him; neither of them took anything quite seriously enough to get hurt by something the other did.

Raen had the predatory look about her that either meant she wanted to kill someone or wanted to sleep with someone. He suspected it was the former considering he himself had already risen from his seat. He perhaps took her more seriously than he'd thought, or he would if she wasn't another world away. Her voice broke the silence. "Want to start a brawl, Bull?" she bit her lip, excited at the possibility of violence before the evening ended, before she playfully grabbed his belt and pulled him into a rough and quick kiss. She certainly had forgotten the rules tonight. He took the burly one, she took the redhead and within moments they had dragged them outside, giving them each a square kick in the ass to remember them by. "And stay the fuck out of my tavern!" Raen called after them, showing her teeth and batting her eyelashes as she waved them goodbye. She was a thunderstorm, an Asaaranda.

"Want to go home?" he put a hand upon her upper arm but she shrugged away ever so slightly.
"Home." She breathed heavily. "Not yet."

He loved her like this, drunken and dishevelled, hair mussed and lips parted and thus it was not until her head rested upon his shoulder and her hand bearing the Fade mark was dangling limply by her side that he deemed it wise to remove her, considering she would not be likely to suggest otherwise, being unconscious and all.

She was fast asleep in his arms as he carried her up the many stairs to her rooms in the Keep tower. He knew the way to them like the back of his hand, so often moving between them and his own by the light of the moon. It would be breaking her rules if he stayed, so he only intended to put her to bed, make sure she was all right before leaving. He had not intended on falling asleep in a chair, watching her chest rise and fall. He had never seen her sleep before.

Bull woke to a strangled cry. Raen thrashed about, as if something had her by the waist, pulling her into oblivion. Her hair was damp and her scars shone in the faint moonlight coming though the opening in the draperies. He moved quickly, shaking her gently, but she kicked at him blindly, a silent scream echoing louder than anything he had ever heard. "Shh, Raen. You're home, you're all right." Cole was at the door; Bull looked over helplessly, what could he do? The boy looked as if he was about to cry, or run away, but he stayed. Bull tried his best to get a grip on her shoulders, pulling her up, still gently shaking her all the while. She woke like a drowned woman, clawing and gasping for air, gripping his arms to hold herself in place. As her eyes flickered from himself to Cole, drinking in reality, she spoke in a strangled voice to the boy, reassuring him she was fine, though her nails dug into Bull's skin. When Bull gave him an affirmative nod, he turned and left with a final baleful glance. She had been determined not to let the boy see her cry, but now he was gone her body was racked with sobs. She looked so small, as if she had shrunk back on herself, trying to hold herself together. Beside her on the bed, he carefully gathered her into his arms, pressing his mouth to her hair as she desperately pressed herself against his chest.

"I thought they would stop one day" she whispered with a grief that was familiar to him. It was something you could not put into words, the tightening in your chest when you realise your scars run deeper than your skin and the memories will never fade. He was no stranger to nightmares. She settled quickly, calming to the sound of the rain outside. As the stared out the window at the darkness, he softly watched. Her breathing had returned to normal when she twisted around in his arms, settling herself with a knee on either side of him and leaning back to pull the loose shirt he'd set her to bed in off her back. His hands were as gentle as he could be, tracing the long indents of old lashes upon her back. He had noticed them before, granted they did not always have time for shirt-removals; this was the first time he knew enough to recognize they still hurt. She had never been like this before, quiet and soft, she usually preferred to be rough, almost harsh- an inferno rather than smouldering ashes. Had she always been this delicate?

She was moving slow, reaching behind his head to untie his eye patch. With anyone else he would have minded, not with Raen'-like-the-weather-but-not' or no, and so he pressed his lips along her chest, where that little bastard of a dragon had sat and to her neck, where the dimly shining mark of a poorly-crafted hangman's noose made his grip tighten on the human woman. The patch came off easily, revealing the ugly scars beneath. She lowered herself back down, hands lingering on his face before she kissed the scars. It was a strange feeling that almost made him shiver at the light touch of her lips. She didn't ask how he'd gotten it, she had once before. He would have told her everything then, anything she had asked, and consequently he kissed her like never before. As Bull's hands drifted along her torso he found yet more scars, the most obvious being a long slice from her right breast to the top of her left thigh. She balanced herself with his horns, applying pressure to where they met his skin, causing him to involuntarily pull her closer. "I can never tell if you like that or hate it." She breathed against his cheek, hands moving down his chest to unbuckle his belt, slipping it off easily with deft fingers.

He told her she was beautiful as she hovered above him on the bed, he said it over and over with various expletives for emphasis as she rocked her hips back and forth, locking her lips with his only to tease him. She laughed when he turned the tables on her, fully herself again. The Rivaini bit his shoulder when he pulled her up as she was about to finish, as he bit hers when he did. If they couldn't get rid of each other's scars, they might as well as dew more marks to the count; it would be innumerable between them but in that moment it felt like only two and the message it sent was clear- she was his and he was hers. As she fell back on the bed, chest heaving, she smiled, eyes smouldering gently in their sockets, he shifted slowly to swing his legs so as to stand up. As he sat on the edge of the bed, watching her eyes flutter slowly open and closed, he warred with himself on whether or not he should stay, he wanted to, but the threat to her role as Inquisitor had been jeopardised enough, the men in the tavern illustrated that flawlessly. And so he was content, now she was smiling, to wander back out into the night. Raen had other plans though, sitting with lips pressed to his muscled shoulder. "Stay" she breathed.

"Are you sure, Kadan?" he pressed his forehead to hers, she nodded against him.

"You could have stayed any night." she whispered, knowing how futile it sounded when neither of them had been willing to damage the other. They did take some things seriously. "I don't know that word, that had better not have been a Qunlat insult." She laughed; it was a glorious, sweet, transcending thing. "I would never insult you so that you couldn't understand it. I am offended you think me such a coward" he joked. It was natural, all of it, to laugh as the stars faded and to watch her fall asleep with her hands upon his bare chest. For a moment it almost seemed possible to forget.

He had not once hurt her, not ever until that night. He had been drinking alone, not realising he was drifting off. The kitchens got new stock that day and so he had been sampling the new deserts with the warden before he had fallen asleep. It wasn't like her to worry where he was; usually she just happened to be awake when he came to bed, not wanting to fall asleep alone. But for one reason or another she had found him at the dining table, arms and head on the table, in the midst of remembering something he would rather forget. Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun. The dream would shift and morph, and the voices crying out were not strangers; they became Sera, Cole or Vivienne. They were Raen, always Raen. Mages possessed by demons taunted him, laughing at the irony that the one time she left him behind, was the one time he could have saved her. They said she cried for him, that she called out his name as they tortured her. And then there she was, beautiful and wild as ever, this time she was possessed by a demon, wearing nothing but a leer. He had seen her tranquil in his dreams before, or with the sown lips of a Saarebas.

She did not know not to wake him; the force with which he rose near knocked her over, his horn grazing her cheek. He had expected her to clutch it and run away, but the blood didn't seem to bother her. He could barely see her through his rage and slammed his fists onto the table, multiple times. Her voice pulled him from his stupor, "Bull, you're breaking the table." He was shaking, how could she not understand the danger she was in?

It was a fairly one-sided fight, to be fair, she had barely said anything but he stormed off anyway, telling her he was going with her on every damn mission she accepted, and his reposts to the Arishok would not concern her anymore, he would avoid it somehow. It shamed him to think that his fellow Qunari would bind and chain someone like her, or that his superiors would be either disgusted or proud he was sleeping in her bed. So why did a part of him still want to return to the life he left behind? Doubt is the path one walks to reach faith. To leave the path is to embrace blindness and abandon hope.

It took him less time than expected to cool off, she was still awake, the cut on her cheek had disappeared through magic or potions he did not know. Her hair was out and she was wearing nothing for that was how she liked to sleep, sitting up between the messy sheets, pretty as a picture as she watched him take off his eye patch. Neither of them said a word as he climbed into bed beside her and she pressed her cheek to his chest. There was nothing that could be said.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" She was obviously unimpressed and the volume her voice was reaching was not helping the pounding in his head. The healer had done a good job of binding his wounds but those upon his chest would most likely scar.

"Protecting you." He shrugged, painfully.

"Oh, oh. I see, so throwing yourself at a hoard of demons alone and getting yourself killed is going to protect me, is it?" she let the sarcasm sink in for a moment. "Promise me you will never do that again, Bull. That's an order."
"I'm not going to promise that" he was determined to make her see his intentions were to stop her from getting killed, or worse.

She did not seem to be listening, and had stalked over to where his weapons were displayed in the corner of her room. Raen had no trouble picking out his favourite, she knew him too well. The Iron Bull tried to ask what she was doing but what it seemed she was doing stilled the words in his throat. She was standing upon the balcony, holding his most prized possession in one hand over the railing. She had gone insane.
"Promise me Bull, no more heroics or I'll drop it, I swear." She had actually gone insane.

"You wouldn't" he chuckled; she was less clever than she thought she was.

"Wouldn't I?" The Inquisitor turned the axe so it was facing down, looking into the abyss. The axe wobbled precariously in the wind.

"Fine, fine. I promise, no more heroics unless your life is directly in danger." He lifted his hands in surrender, moving to pluck the battle axe from her tiny hands and placing it back where she found it. She was watching him with wide, sad eyes from across the room. He sat on the edge of a nearby lounge, "Come here, Kadan. Don't sulk."

"I don't sulk." Those wile eves were ablaze again as she sat herself on top of him. "I want you to understand where I am coming from, Bull. That axe won't be the only thing to go flying off that balcony if you die." Her eyes were serious, suggesting she meant what she said.

"Don't you ever, Kadan." He earnestly gripped her face with both hands. To call a thing by its name is to know its reason in the world. To call a thing falsely is to put out one's own eyes.

"Don't make me. I've nearly lost you twice now. I don't think I can do a third time."

"I won't, I promise." He meant it. The intensity of her gaze lessened as she flopped onto the cushioned seat beside him, resting her head on his shoulder serenely.

"You know you still haven't told me what Kadan means."
"I thought you knew some Qunlat" he teased.

"Unless it was something one Qunari would say to another at the docks or a whorehouse, I don't know it." The Inquisitor scoffed as he raised an eyebrow.

"It means 'where the heart lies', sort of a blanket term for-" She didn't let him finish his definition but it seemed she got the idea, from the way she was pressing her lips to his, that was her name, her role, the reason in his world. She was kadan.