Chapter 9: Now What?

Summary:

The Breach is closed, but Bull knows it was too easy. Bull and Samahl both wait for the next shoe to drop while Bull rangles in his steadily-increasing need to do away with the stress and strain on the Herald's burden-laden shoulders.

Notes:

**Trigger Warning for Chapter**

Description of ground zero casualties and destruction
Reference to torture
Reference to sex training (Bull's past)
Reference to non-consent (Bull's past)

Bull had never been this close to the Breach before. Ever since the explosion at the Conclave, very few people were allowed near the crater. A mix of Templars still loyal to the Chantry, the guard that had kept watch over the Temple and who had survived the Conclave explosion, and Inquisition soldiers kept it off-limits to looters, pilgrims, civilians, and everyone else, even nobles.

Bull could see why it was off-limits. The basic laws of normal and real did not work here anymore. Giant stalagmites of red lyrium rose from the dirt. Some of the rocks that had been blasted from the ground looked as though they forgot to fall back down. They hovered and floated, glowing green with the light of the Fade. Even the ground at Bull's feet seemed to glow green. Bodies and scattered remains were still being recovered from the blast zone. Bull could see the recovery team's tents standing in the snow, their flags waving just as tiredly as the recovery team. The recovery team was made up of volunteers. Bull had seen a few of them at the tavern in Haven. They looked like they were seeing waking nightmares as they drank their beers together in dull silence. It was rumored that they all could hear the screaming of the Conclave explosion's victims whenever they worked in the ruins.

This close to the Breach, Bull's head pounded with a horrible headache even when he wasn't looking at the acid green brightness of the Breach. And to make matters worse, the wind felt like it was running fingers over his shorn scalp in a mocking imitation of a massage. If Bull listened carefully, he could hear the Breach whispering.

And the whispering that floated into Bull's ears sounded like Vasaad's.

"Kadan," it whispered. "Do you ever stop thinking?"

Bull could smell jasmine soap.

I loved you, Tears, but this is way too fucking much, Bull thought as he glared up at the giant Breach floating above them.

"All right there, Chief?" asked Krem quietly. Krem was standing at Bull's left. Skinner was standing at Bull's right. The rest of the Chargers, except for Dalish, were standing around Bull along with a small portion of the Inquisition forces. If anything went wrong here, the bulk of the Inquisition was still safe in Haven.

"Nope," Bull said flatly.

Krem laughed bitterly, his amber eyes staring emotionlessly up at the whispering hole in the sky, and Bull wondered what Krem was hearing. It couldn't be anything good. "That makes two of us," Krem muttered.

"Make that three," mumbled Rocky.

"Four," Skinner added.

"Ugh," Grim grunted with a nod, claiming fifth place.

"Let's assume everyone is questioning their life choices right now," Stitches groaned, and all the Chargers chuckled darkly.

Hundreds of mages were standing at attention in a giant circle on the ground under the Breach. Bull could see familiar faces. Vivienne stood side by side with her fellow circle mages. Felicity, the teen who had been so afraid of the Inquisition a few days ago, was glaring at the Breach in resolve. Dorian stood beside Felix, Magister Alexius's son. Felix's face was blotched red in places and was sickly pale in others, but his mouth was a determined line despite his encroaching death. Alexius was nowhere in sight. Bull could see Dalish standing beside Felix. She had volunteered to help lend her power to close the Breach even though she still insisted that her staff was a bow. Lysas, an elf mage that Bull had met in Redcliffe, was with Enchanter Fiona. Solas and Casandra were standing together, planning and coordinating. It was always interesting to see the two of them talk shop. They were wary of each other, often butting heads whenever they traveled, but when they were fighting and scheming together, they were in sync and there was respect there too despite the hostility that first brought them together.

One of the mages, a young human man wearing a silken grey shirt and breeches, suddenly dropped his staff. He retreated back one step, then another, breaking the perfect circle of mages standing at attention. His eyes were staring horrified up at the Breach as if he were seeing a demon. Maybe he was. His skin took on an ashen pallor.

Bull's imagination worked overtime. Possession? Desertion? Fear? Probably fear, but Bull wasn't going to dismiss the other possibilities. It would take Bull ten paces to get to him and then there would be a few decisions to make. Talk to him if he was afraid. Restrain him if he was possessed. If he was possessed, there was a potion that could disrupt magic on Bull's belt. He'd use that if he had to, but it would affect the other mages' ability to close the Breach. His axe had an enchantment on it that dispelled magic briefly, but he didn't want to kill the kid unless he had to. That would cause a much larger diplomatic rift between Fereldan and the Inquisition than the one that existed already. Even though the kid had not inherited any title because he was a mage, the kid was Connor Guerrin, Arl Teagan of Redcliffe's nephew.

Before Bull could even move, someone walked up to Connor and placed a calming hand on his shoulder, and Bull wondered just how poorly the Breach was affecting his perception when he hadn't realized instantly that the person consoling Connor was Samahl. Samahl spoke quietly to the young man, his face reassuring and kind. Connor visibly relaxed and took deep breaths, closing his eyes. Samahl was quietly leading Connor in what Bull realized was a meditation, and despite the horrifying Breach above them, Samahl was able to get the panicked young man to calm down and refocus.

When Connor opened his eyes and looked back up at Samahl, a look of determination was there instead of fear. Bull couldn't hear them speaking, but he could read Connor's lips when he said, "Thank you." Then the nephew of Arl Teagan bowed to the Dalish elf.

Samahl froze for a moment before he gave a small bow of his own to Connor and he walked back towards Cassandra and Solas. Samahl's blue eyes slipped down to look at his hand as it began to glow green and crackle with energy. Samahl looked over at Cassandra and Solas.

Then Samahl grinned fiercely with purpose.

Bull took in a sharp breath. Bull felt everyone around him shift and stand taller. The Herald of Andraste then started walking slowly towards the center of the circle of mages, his face turned up towards the Breach.

"Keep an eye out for trouble," Bull muttered to the Chargers.

"Aye, Chief," the Chargers within earshot whispered.

"Mages!" Cassandra shouted. Her voice reverberated and echoed oddly in the green-tinged air.

Solas raised up his staff and walked parallel to the circle of mages, his sharp eyes on their faces. "Focus past the Herald!" he ordered with a shout. "Let his will draw from you!"

The green glow around Samahl's hand traveled, spreading over his whole body, crackling like lightning as he approached the center of the circle. The hundreds of mages standing in the circle around the Breach shouted out as one and slammed the points of their staffs into the ground. Bull could almost feel the rush of energy spike through the air, all of it focused on Samahl. Samahl seemed to struggle under the combined weight of all that power, his teeth bared, his eyes narrowed. His hand was shaking and jerking around as though he were trying to hold onto the leash of a great animal he could just barely hold onto. He drew back his arm, and suddenly he threw his hand up towards the Breach and opened his violently sparking hand.

The acid-green line of power that Bull was familiar with burst forth out of Samahl's hand and connected with the Breach. The light that crackled forth into the sky and air was blinding. Bull shielded his eye with a hand and swore, trying to see. It would have been a perfect time for an assassin to take a shot at Samahl as long as they positioned themselves for the shot before the light of the Breach blinded them.

Then a shockwave of power broke free from the Breach and Bull instinctively grabbed Krem and Skinner, the closest Chargers standing near him, and dived to the ground and shielded them with his bulk. Bull felt the force of the shockwave rush over his back. The shockwave knocked people off their feet. Bull could hear shouts of fear.

And then . . . silence.

Krem patted Bull's enormous bare shoulder. "Get off me, you big horned idiot," Krem groaned. "You're digging my kidney into the ground."

"Be glad you've got a kidney to complain about," Bull sniped back and rolled off Skinner and Krem and they all clambered to their feet with the crowd. Bull did a health check on all his Chargers with a sweeping glance. All accounted for.

Bull looked up and stared . . .

There was no Breach.

All that was left was a mark in the sky, like a scar, that showed where the Breach used to be. Samahl had taken a knee and Casandra was patting his back. Before Bull could start worrying about the Herald's health, Samahl got back on his feet and enthusiastic cheers rose up from the crowd of people gathered.

If the world doubted Samahl's power before, they were most definitely not doubting it now. Even though he was aided this time by the power of mages, Samahl Lavellan, a Dalish elf from the Free Marshes, First of Clan Lavellan, had closed the giant demon shitting hole in the sky and every interested noble, magister, demon, and dowager in all of Thedas would have their eyes on Haven.

There was no telling when they would have to deal with the repercussions of closing the Breach. Bull kept his Chargers ready just in case they needed to leave at a moment's notice, and kept a smile plastered on his face for the civilians, Chantry, mages, and soldiers who were too naïve to realize the danger they were all in. But Bull noticed others who were not so cheerful. They looked paranoid.

As the day for the Haven Banquet celebrating the closing of the Breach approached, Bull noticed keenly that Samahl was one of the paranoid. In between Samahl cheerfully preparing festivities with Josephine and Varric for the Banquet, there were moments Bull caught Samahl staring down at his hand, his face expressionless, before he looked up at the scar in the sky.

On the morning of the day of the Banquet, Bull walked up to Samahl. "Let's go for a walk," Bull said.

Samahl looked like he would refuse, but then he must have noticed the no-nonsense look on Bull's face. Samahl smiled. "All right," he said.

Bull and Samahl followed the trail they had taken through the woods past Master Taigen's house and out onto the snowy meadows surrounding Haven. Wild druffalo grazed on the bark of the evergreens while pale fennec foxes hopped and buried their noses in the snow in their pursuit of rodents under the snowfall.

"Talk to me, Boss," Bull insisted.

"It was too easy," said Samahl to Bull softly.

"What makes you say so?" asked Bull.

Samahl smiled bitterly up at Bull and, in the blazing sunlight shining off the snow, Bull saw the strain on Samahl's face. "There has been a distinct lack of things this week that I saw on my trip to the future at Redcliffe," Samahl said. "I expected . . . something. An assassination attempt while we closed Breach? An attack? Every time someone arrives at Haven to pledge their loyalty, I wonder if it's a ruse." Samahl frowned. "Is that just the normalcy of being part of such a well-known organization like this? You just expect an attack at every turn?"

"Hmmmmmmmm," Bull hummed, as if in thought. Then he nodded energetically. "Yup."

Samahl laughed. "You're so cheerful," Samahl said.

Bull grinned. "I try. You should worry. Closing that Breach is bound to have created enemies, or riled up the ones we don't know about yet. This . . . what the fuck did you call it? 'Elder One?'"

Samahl smiled sadly. "What you called it," Samahl corrected.

Bull grumbled wordlessly. "Sure. What future meee called it," Bull corrected unhappily. "This Elder One piece of bullshit could be anyone. None of us in that future talked about who and what it was?"

"There wasn't enough time," Samahl said. "We were focusing on getting home, so—"

"Yeah, I'd be preoccupied too. Or, I was preoccupied? If we had a name, or something, I could send the Chargers to investigate it. I could get the Ben-Hassrath to look into it. Alexius is still refusing to say the name of this Elder One asshole?"

"Yes," Samahl said.

"Leliana hasn't convinced him to talk yet?"

The haunted look in Samahl's eyes deepened, that look that had dogged Samahl since he walked out of that time rift in Redcliffe. "No," he said. "Dorian and I have been the ones to oversee talks with him."

In other words, Dorian, with his attachment to Alexius, must have refused to be excluded from any interrogation that involved his former mentor. That meant that torture and possibly more effective levels of coercion were probably off the table. Bull could only imagine how frustrating that made Leliana's job.

"Maybe the asshole Elder One died when you closed the Breach?" Bull asked wistfully. "Because of some magical connection crap?"

Samahl grinned. "We can only hope, right?" he said.

Bull laughed, and Samahl's eyes were riveted to his face. Bull had a lot of features that he knew people liked, like his muscles, his horns, and definitely his cock. Some people had a fetish for his horns. He'd never understood how someone could have a fetish for something so normal as horns until he got to a place where none of the people looked like him. But Samahl was staring at Bull's smile, at his face, like it was something worthwhile to look at.

And Bull looked at Samahl. Really looked at him. Samahl wasn't even 30 yet—reports said he was 24—but Bull could swear there were new wrinkles at the corners of his eyes Bull hadn't seen before. The elf had new scars from his trip to the future on his forehead and cheek. Elfroot and modern healing potions had taken alarming steps forward in the past few years. Those cuts should have healed up before they started to scar. Fuck. He kept the scars from his trip to the future? Bull thought. As mementos?

Bull looked at Samahl's mouth. These talk-it-out sessions they had with each other sporadically since they met were nice, but Samahl needed more than that . . .

And maybe Bull could give it to him. Along with Bull's training to fight, Bull had been trained in sex. Sex was another tool in the arsenal of the Ben-Hassrath, and it often got you more information than any interrogation or threat could.

He had surprised his teachers by not only being a good spy as well as a fighter, but by being a good lover in the bedroom, able to take on any role the trainers and teachers gave him. His versatility made his teachers wary, but his versatility and adaptability had saved him countless times throughout his life. It was amazing what a smile and husky flirtation could get you when you were unarmed, bound, and between a wall and a very angry Tal-Vashoth.

Once he started work in Orlais, those sexual skills, especially the ones that made him a good dominant, were honed and trained further in his own spare time. Orlesians loved sex. Bull was pretty sure the invention of the Orlesian Tickler predated the invention of the clock and the wound-up music box. Because he was bigger than most people in Orlais, people had immediately assumed Bull was dominant, and he fully embraced that persona and role. He enjoyed taking care of people, enjoyed taking charge, and was completely content to keep the part of himself that enjoyed submission tucked safely away in those last memories he had of Vasaad.

Bull knew Samahl wanted Bull to give him a good, hard fuck, to dominate him completely, to take on that dominant role and completely overwhelm Samahl. The elf was all wound up tight with stress. The public image of the Herald of Andraste was pure and above such base sensuality, but Samahl knew what a hard limit was and Samahl needed someone to know his hard limits so he could let go and let someone else take charge for once.

Samahl's breath shuddered as Bull continued to stare at his lips. Bull could feel the heat of Samahl's temperature magic flare hotter. In the bright sun shining off the blinding white snow, Samahl's pupils dilated.

Bull's eye flicked from Samahl's mouth to Samahl's hand. It was glowing faintly.

It was amazing how reality and duty could kill a libido so quickly.

Cassandra would probably kill Bull, as Samahl promised, if she ever discovered the sheer number of secret messages that passed between him and the Ben-Hassrath without Leliana's knowledge, some of them literally in front of Leliana's nose. Leliana never caught on because a coded message could be written with specific words in the Common Tongue that sounded like words in Qunlat. It meant Bull could fill up his reports with more than one message.

And then there were the reports that were whispered to him orally by the many Vidathari Ben-Hassrath spies wandering through Haven that the Inquisition didn't know about. Bull's obvious and loud presence kept all the other spies in the shadows because all the attention remained on Bull's giant shoulders.

Anything he did that was related to the Inquisition needed to go into those reports, regardless of whether those reports passed before Leliana's eyes or were spoken softly to the spies. Most of the information Bull passed along was about Samahl Lavellan, the face of the Inquisition, because Bull had been ordered to be his bodyguard.

And Bull would have to tell the whole damned Ben-Hassrath what Samahl was like while he was getting fucked—

Bull took a step back from Samahl and tore his eye away from Samahl's lips. "Breakfast," Bull said, and clapped his huge hand on Samahl's shoulder. Bull allowed himself a moment to be charmed by the way Samahl's ears reddened at the tips before Bull smothered the feeling and compartmentalized what was left of it. "Let's be paranoid and worried together over some sausage and eggs."

"You make it sound so tempting," Samahl teased with a warm smile and the two of them hiked through the snow back to Haven.

Haven was filled with revelers on that night of the banquet. Paper lanterns were hung up on little strings between merchant stalls. Visitors from outside of Haven had made the trip, bringing with them revenue and income to Haven. Bull could smell food absolutely everywhere. The festivities were not all in one place. They were outside in the snow and inside the chantry. Mulled cider was served hot and a feast was served for the people of the Inquisition seemingly in every home and every tent.

Bull walked through the town gnawing on a turkey leg. That's when he saw Dorian Pavus making his way towards the chantry, unaccompanied, with a veritable feast of food balanced in his arms. Bull paused to watch Dorian. The only people Bull ever saw Dorian speaking to regularly were Samahl, Varric, Felix and Alexius and, surprisingly, Cullen. Bull sometimes saw Cullen and Dorian playing chess in the chantry on an old chessboard. Dorian also frequented the cells underneath the chantry a lot so he could speak to Alexius and Felix. But Dorian didn't speak much to other people. It was troubling, and Bull knew through the grapevine of rumors that Dorian was often verbally harassed for his Tevinter origins by all types of people in Heaven, but his sense of pride kept him from complaining about it.

"Going to feed an army there, Dorian?" Bull asked. "Or is that all for you?" Dorian looked over his shoulder and frowned suspiciously at Bull. Bull expected a retort of some sort, but when none came, Bull said, "No offense if it's all for you," Bull said with a slow look over Dorian. "I just don't know where you put it all." When Bull's eye flicked back up to Dorian's face, he grinned as Dorian's eyes flashed and his face reddened.

"You—" Dorian barked. Then he took in a breath. "No. This is . . . it's for Felix and . . . and Alexius," Dorian admitted, and his shoulders slumped a little. "Alexius will probably just throw it out of the cell, but . . . I can at least try."

"Need a hand with it?" Bull asked.

"No comments about me feeding Vint prisoners?" Dorian asked snidely.

"I'm fresh out of comments about Vint prisoners tonight." Bull fed the rest of his turkey leg to the mabari who guarded the gates and scratched the giant dog behind her ear. The behemoth dog panted happily and thumped her foot on the ground in pleasure. "There ya go," Bull cooed. "Good job watching over Haven. You should feast too. I'll come back with more later." When Iron Bull looked up, he noticed Dorian was staring at him with an odd expression on his face. "What?" Bull asked in confusion.

Dorian cleared his throat and his eyes shifted away from Bull. There was still a flush on his cheeks. "Nothing important."

Bull took more than half of the food out of Dorian's arms and the two of them walked to the Chantry. Bull's bought drinks as he walked by some stalls and added it to the armful he already had. The Chantry was crowded with people, and it took them a few minutes to get past them all. Bull could hear Chancellor Roderick loudly complaining, "Mulled wine should not be sold in the Chantry! Or imbibed! Or spilled! What are you doing to that portrait of Maferath?

Bull and Dorian walked down the stone steps and into the heavy darkness of the chantry basement. A shiver raced up Bull's spine as his eye adjusted to the light of the lamps hanging from the dungeon ceiling. Dorian swore in Tevene. "What kind of chantry has a dungeon under it?" Dorian muttered.

"The kind that used to be home to a cult," Bull muttered.

"There was a cult here?"

"Yup."

"What kind of cult?"

"The kind that thought Andraste was a dragon, worshipped it, and tried to wheedle Warden Surana into pouring its blood all over dead Andraste's ashes. That kind."

Dorian laughed. "You're joking."

"Nope. True story."

"Dragon's blood on . . . what would that have done I wonder?"

"Yeaaaaaah. I don't want to know."

The guards that saw Dorian arriving nodded to him without question, and Bull realized that Dorian must have visited the dungeons frequently. For all the posturing Dorian did, he hid a lot of good qualities.

They approached the bars of the cell and heard a rattle as Felix stood up. He was wearing cuffs around his wrists that were enchanted to cut off his magical abilities. "You, my friend, are a blessing," Felix crowed happily to Dorian. The Inquisition had not planned to imprison Felix along with his father due to his illness and his willingness to stop his own father, but Felix had refused to leave his father's side.

Dorian laughed and pushed over a stool to sit down. "A blessing?" Dorian asked. "Can't say I've been called that lately."

Dorian reached out to pass Felix food through the bars of the cell. Bull handed Felix a cup of mulled wine. "Thank you," Felix said sincerely to Bull, and hummed in delight when he sipped on the wine and ate a bite of a ham croissant. "I know my sense of taste is shot, but this tastes amazing." Felix glanced over his shoulder. "You need to eat, father."

Bull's eye snapped up. Alexius was so still and silent in the back of the cell that Bull had thought he was seeing just a shadow of Felix against the wall. Bull's depth perception was imperfect with just one eye on a bright day, but in the dark it was almost nonexistent. Alexius was sitting on a prison cot, completely still. "Does it matter?" Alexius muttered dourly.

Felix frowned. "It matters to me," he said sternly.

There was a loud silence and then, with the sound of clinking chains, Alexius stood up and trudged over to reach out his cuffed hands to the food Dorian offered. But when Alexius's dull eyes looked up at Bull, the Magister bared his teeth in hate. "Dorian, have you sunk so low?" he muttered.

Dorian frowned. "What?"

"I have not fallen so far as to touch anything given to me by that," Alexius said and drew his hands back.

"Ouch," Bull muttered with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh for the—" Felix snapped in exasperation. "Accept the food and eat. You can't afford to turn down help when it is offered."

"It won't matter soon."

"You don't know that."

"The Inquisition will not keep—"

"You don't know that!" Felix yelled. His voice rang out loudly in the dungeon. By the way the guards didn't react, Bull realized it was not the first time Felix had raised his voice at his father. "We've been over this! You are going to eat and you are going to live because it matters to me. I can't . . . when I'm gone, I want to know that you're going to be—What's that?"

The bell of the chantry was ringing.

"That's the alarm," one of the guards said worriedly.

There was a clatter of footsteps down the stairs. "Merlene! Dedric!" A young woman ran towards them, and Bull recognized the scout who had a crush on Queen Anora. Bull had learned her name was Jen. "We're under attack! Templars! Hundreds of templars"

"What did the templars look like?" Alexius suddenly asked sharply.

Jen was startled at being addressed by the Magister prisoner. "They . . ." she began hesitantly. "Like normal templars, most of them. But some of them are red. Everywhere. It's almost like they were covered in—"

"Red lyrium?" Alexius prodded.

Jen nodded. "Yes. I think, but . . . that doesn't make any sense."

Alexius laughed darkly. "So this is the other plan I was not privy to," Alexius said darkly. "The Elder One is here at last."

"You're going to talk about him now?" Bull asked angrily.

"It doesn't matter now." The Alexius drew himself to his full height. "Release me," Alexius said. "I'm no good to you shackled like this."

"And then what?" Bull ground out.

Alexius's looked over at Felix, who was staring at his father in fear, and Bull realized that as long as Felix was alive, Alexius would protect his son and anyone else who could protect Felix. "Then I fight on the Inquisition's side." Alexius turned back to look at Dorian and Bull with emotionally dead eyes. "For now."

"If they go free—" said one of the guards with a growl.

"They could help," Jen protested. "It looks like the whole templar order out there!"

"The whole order?" Felix asked, looking at his father with horror.

The guard glared at Jen. "You saw what they almost did, didn't you?" he said, pointing at Alexius and Felix. Alexius stepped sideways so that he could put himself between the guards and his son. "You were there at Redcliffe. These Vints are—"

"Leave them to us," Bull cut in quickly. "Leave the keys," he added.

Dedric was quick to shove the keys at Bull's hands and Dedric, Merlene, and Jen hurried away to report for duty. Bull unlocked the prison cells and then fitted the special keys into the manacles that kept Felix and Alexius's magic locked. Felix hissed. Alexius closed his eyes. The mages stood for a moment getting accustomed to the feel of their magic again and then they looked at each other with poignant looks. Bull strapped the magic-blocking manacles to his belt.

What should have taken them just a minute to get out of the Chantry stretched to five minutes as civilians, refugees, Chantry folk, children, and even a few animals were rushed into the Chantry's stone protection. When the four of them stood on the steps of the Chantry, panicking people rushing past them to get inside, Bull saw a man with dark hair in Templar armor standing on top of a rocky outcrop outside Haven's walls.

Beside the man towered a figure that looked like it was out of a saar-qamek-induced hallucination. It was over 9 feet tall. Its arms were long and spindly. It looked like a Darkspawn emissary with jagged protrusions of red lyrium sticking out of its towering, emaciated body.

The snowy mountain slopes behind it flickered with the torches of hundreds of templars.