The Storm Coast certainly earned its name that day, living up to its rainy reputation as Astarion and his companions made their grand entrance. Rain, relentless and unforgiving, pelted the party as they arrived at an Inquisition campsite. While Inquisition scouts had smartly established the camp not too far from the shoreline, it seemed than the meager shelter offered little sanctuary from the ceaseless downpour. Nature wished to remind them who was in charge, it seemed.
Astarion hadn't journeyed this far merely to sit around at a campsite, though. Consequently, he, accompanied by Cassandra, Solas, and Varric, descended the hill towards the coastline to rendezvous with the Iron Bull. As they descended, Astarion couldn't resist stopping to gather more elfroot, which he'd been amassing since their return from the Hinterlands.
"Still hoarding that elfroot, I see. Care to enlighten us on why?" Varric asked, noting that Astarion now had an entire bag brimming with the herb.
"No. It's nothing you need to be concer–" Astarion began, his response cut short by a piercing screech that reverberated through the sky. He halted, the screech prompting him to pause and cast his gaze upward. His eyes widened in awe at the sight of a dragon gracefully gliding through the sky, disappearing into the distant horizon.
"Well, well, look at that! Didn't have 'dragon sighting' on today's agenda, that's for sure. This is your first time seeing a dragon, isn't it, Fangs?" Varric said.
"Ugh, I wish. It's a cruel twist of fate, isn't it? Most folks lead their lives without ever catching a glimpse of a dragon, but it appears I'm destined to have these encounters," Astarion remarked, his tone filled with resignation.
"Wait, seriously? When in the Void have you crossed paths with dragons before?" Varric asked in disbelief.
"They were in the middle of attacking a ship I had the pleasure of being on," Astarion revealed.
"Wait, you can't just leave it at that. You've got to give me the whole story," Varric urged.
"Well, if you're absolutely craving the sordid details, let me oblige. Yours truly was abducted and unceremoniously stowed away in a cage aboard a ship, treated like some rare collectible. Then, as if my day hadn't been interesting enough, a group of dragon-riding warriors decided to crash the party, and, naturally, we ended up with a rather spectacular crash landing. My cage, fortunately, didn't survive the ordeal, allowing me to make a swift escape," Astarion recounted, skillfully omitting any mention of the 'mind flayer' aspect.
Cassandra shot Astarion a stern, disbelieving glare. "You're lying. People riding dragons? That's utter nonsense," she accused.
"Well, it's surely a riveting tale, and that's saying something coming from me. I can't say I'm entirely sold on that yarn, either," Varric added, his skepticism evident.
"Well, darling, how else do you think I managed to slip away from my exalted vampiric master?" Astarion asked with a sly grin.
"By giving him a dose of sass until he couldn't take it anymore, perhaps? Definitely not by dragons . Chuckles, you got any thoughts on this?" Varric asked.
Solas shrugged nonchalantly. "He has mentioned the dragons to me once before."
Varric raised an eyebrow. "And you actually believed him?"
"I didn't find a reason to doubt him. At the very least, he's telling the truth about being abducted and placed on a ship," Solas replied.
"Fangs, if you're seriously telling the truth about dragons, I'd love to hear the full story later. If you're comfortable, that is," Varric said, understanding that being kidnapped and held in a cage usually wasn't for good reasons.
Astarion, on the other hand, responded with a wry grin, "Are you kidding? This whole ordeal has been a delightful twist of fate. I can only imagine the look on Cazador's face when he realized I was stolen right out from under his nose. Now here I am, walking in the sunshine, even if I'm still in the dark about how I got here. But, as they say, beggars can't be choosers," he said, then added, "enough about dragons, anyways– we have an 'Iron Bull' to meet."
A little farther down the path, on the beach, a skirmish unfolded. Astarion spotted a familiar face among the combatants – Krem, the person he'd encountered outside the chantry. Astarion realized that these must be the Bull's 'Chargers'. Without hesitation, Astarion leaped into the fray, his blades flashing as he expertly dispatched his foes left and right. By the time the battle was over, Astarion's face was covered in splashes of blood, but the rain was slowly washing it away.
Astarion turned around, only to find that he was nearly face to face (well, face to chest) with an imposing figure who was clearly not tiefling. Or, at the very least, the most colossal tiefling he had ever encountered. While the man did possess horns, they were the largest Astarion had ever laid eyes on, and his sheer size dwarfed him. With shoulders that seemed impossibly broad, he loomed over Astarion to an extent that left him at a loss for words. Honestly, Astarion couldn't even fathom how to classify this imposing being, for he had never come across a creature resembling the Iron Bull. For a brief, unbidden moment, Astarion couldn't help but entertain the curious thought of what Iron Bull's blood might taste like. After all, the massive warrior seemed to have an ample supply of it.
"Chargers! Stand down. Krem– how'd we do?" The Iron Bull's commanding voice cut through the aftermath of the skirmish, and he strode past Astarion to confer with Krem.
"Three or four wounded, Chief. Two dead," Krem reported dutifully.
"Good, that's what I like to hear. Let the throatcutters finish up, then break out the casks," Bull ordered Krem before turning his attention to Astarion. "So, you're with the Inquisition, huh? You must be 'the Herald' that I've heard so much about. Glad you could make it. Come on, have a seat. Drinks are coming," Bull invited Astarion.
"Iron Bull, I presume?" Astarion inquired.
"Yeah, the horns usually give it away," Bull replied with a wry grin as he settled down on a nearby boulder.
"They are a rather impressive set of horns," Astarion complimented.
"You've never met a Qunari before, have you?" Bull asked.
"No, but you're certainly making a memorable first impression," Astarion responded with a smile.
"Heh. Thank you. I assume you remember Cremisius Aclassi, my lieutenant," Bull remarked, gesturing toward Krem.
Krem nodded in acknowledgment of Astarion. "Good to see you again. Throatcutters are done, chief," he reported.
"Already? Have 'em check again. I don't want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. No offense, Krem," Bull replied.
"None taken. At least a bastard knows who his mother was. Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?" Krem quipped as he turned and strolled away.
"So, you've seen us fight. We're expensive, but we're worth it… and I'm sure the Inquisition can afford us," Bull stated confidently.
"Oh, Iron Bull, your confidence is almost as impressive as your fighting skills. Expensive, you say? Well, they do say that fortune favors the bold, so, who am I to argue with such a persuasive pitch?" Astarion said. He had no stake in the Inquisition's finances, so he didn't particularly care about Bull's cost. He was more than willing to agree now and let the others worry about the payment details later.
"You won't just be getting the boys– you're getting me. You need a frontline bodyguard, I'm your man. Whatever it is– Demons, Dragons? The bigger the better," The Bull declared, rising to his feet and taking a few strides forward, making sure to emphasize his size. "There's one other thing. Might be helpful, might piss you off. Ever heard of the Ben-Hassrath?"
"Not particularly," Astarion replied.
"It's a Qunari order. They handle information, loyalty, security, the whole package. Spies, basically. Or, well… we're spies. The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the breach. Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I've been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports on what's happening. But I also get reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais. Sign me on– and I'll share them with your people," Bull explained.
Varric took this opportunity to tease Astarion. "Well, there you have it. That's what upfront honesty looks like, Astarion. Maybe you should jot down a few pointers from our friend here," he said with a chuckle.
"So, let me make sure I've got this straight. You're a spy, and you just... spilled the beans to me? I must admit, your mastery of the 'spy' gig leaves a lot to be desired," Astarion commented, his tone dripping with sass and a healthy dose of skepticism.
"Whatever went down at that Conclave is nothing short of a disaster. Someone needs to close that Breach, and so whatever role I play, I'm on your side. It's better you hear it straight from me," Bull stated firmly.
Astarion pressed further, a note of concern in his voice. "And... what exactly would you be including in these reports about us?" He had a genuine reason to worry– the last thing he needed was word of his vampirism spreading around, should Bull ever find out.
Bull let out a faint chuckle. "Nothing that would put you in a bind, I promise. I know about your past as an escaped slave, and I won't be dishing out anything that could stir up trouble. My focus will be singing praises about the Inquisition's success, all to dissuade the Qunari from launching a full-blown invasion to deal with the Breach," Bull explained, his eyes locked onto Astarion's face. His trained eye for expressions told him that Astarion's main concerns went beyond just the "escaped slave" aspect; there were evidently larger secrets at stake. "And if it eases your mind, I'm more than happy to let you review those reports before they take flight," Bull offered.
"Yes, I'll have Leliana give them a once-over before you send them," Astarion corrected. As much as he would love to read what Bull had to say, he couldn't.
"Right. Does that mean we're officially on board?" Bull inquired.
"That depends. Are you fine with spending an excessive amount of time doing nothing but thieving, looting, and collecting supplies?" Astarion asked.
"You'll be paying me. So if that's what you want me to do, I'll do it," Bull confirmed.
Varric nodded his head in agreement. "I swear, it's like he's cursed to put his hands on everything. And don't get me started on the ludicrous quantity of elfroot he's hoarding, with not a word of explanation."
"That falls under the category of information reserved for those who actually need to know. Spoiler alert: You don't," Astarion replied to Varric, intentionally being vague.
Cassandra, her discomfort apparent at hiring a spy, chimed in with a stern warning, "But don't even entertain the idea of working against the Inquisition. You've witnessed our capabilities in battle now, and if you step out of line, I'll have our Herald here eat you alive. You'd be nothing but a memory before you even think about making an escape," she threatened.
Astarion let out a laugh, his tone laced with amusement. " Really? Are we using me as a scare tactic now? Well, I can't say I mind. I'd love the opportunity to take a bite out of someone like him," he said, running his tongue tantalizingly across the tips of his fangs, savoring the thought.
"Wouldn't have it any other way," Bull replied, his gaze locked onto Astarion as he intensely studied the elf's every mannerism and detail. He couldn't help but see why the Chantry was so agitated – Astarion was undeniably an enigmatic figure. The elf possessed a physique that stood out among his kind, lacking the typical slender frame of most elves. He almost had a human quality about him, were it not for his pointed ears and sharp features. Astarion was undeniably attractive, and his flirtatious demeanor only added to his allure.
Yet, Bull also couldn't ignore the other aspects of Astarion – the striking red eyes and sharp teeth that appeared when he spoke. There was also the matter of his hair, now dampened by the rain but still revealing its unique grayish-white hue. It shouldn't have been natural, but it clearly was. Most disconcerting of all was the way Astarion looked at him, as if he were peering at something deeper than just Bull's outward appearance. It left Bull feeling somewhat unsettled.
Bull's instincts and training kept ringing warning bells about Astarion, but he couldn't pinpoint the exact source of his unease. Despite the enigma that Astarion was, he couldn't deny the elf's undeniable charm. Under different circumstances, Bull might have been more than willing to demonstrate just how captivating a Qunari could be, preferably in the privacy of the night. However, Astarion remained an enigma, and caution prevailed. The flirtatious and sarcastic demeanor could be a response to past trauma, consistent with having been a former slave from Tevinter. It didn't take Ben-Hassrath training to know that– depending on the owner– it wasn't unusual for attractive elvhen slaves to be used as prostitutes or whores.
Nonetheless, Bull couldn't dismiss the persistent feeling that there was something inherently dangerous about Astarion. He couldn't deny that the elf's mannerisms continued to point towards the "desire demon" theory that the Chantry had been so vocal about, potentially adding a disturbing layer to Cassandra's earlier warning. However, the fact that Cassandra, the formidable "Right Hand of the Divine," was not only willing to tolerate Astarion but also decided to keep him close, suggested that Astarion's intentions, whatever they might be, were likely not malicious. The "Herald" was undoubtedly worth further investigation. Whether he was truly a former slave or something altogether different remained a mystery yet to be unraveled.
"Krem! Tell the men to finish drinking on the road. The chargers just got hired," Bull shouted across to Krem.
"What about the casks, chief? We just opened them up– with axes !" Krem protested.
"Find some way to seal them– you're Tevinter, right? Try blood magic," Bull suggested nonchalantly.
Krem groaned in exasperation but begrudgingly went to find a way to seal the casks.
Bull grinned and turned his attention back to Astarion. "We'll catch up with you in Haven," he stated.
"It'll be a delight to have you on board. Catch you there," Astarion replied, then turned on his heel and gracefully departed from the group, making his way back to the camp in search of a reprieve from the relentless rain.
Once Astarion and his companions had departed, Bull approached Krem, who seemed to be awaiting his input.
"What's your take on him, chief?" Krem asked as Bull drew near.
"That's still up in the air. I couldn't get a solid read on him. But I'd like you to have a chat with him once we're in Haven. Try to bond with him over Tevinter," Bull suggested.
"But won't that potentially stir up bad memories for him?" Krem asked, raising a valid concern.
"Maybe, or maybe it'll bring up no memories at all. That's what I'm curious to find out," Bull explained.
"You think he's lying about being a former slave from Tevinter, don't you? Do you think those rumors about him being a desire demon hold any water?" Krem asked, echoing the doubts that had crossed Bull's mind.
"It's possible, though it seems unlikely. But then again, a giant magical hole in the sky was also unlikely, yet here we are. Like I said, I couldn't quite get a read on him, and the rain didn't help," Bull admitted.
Krem raised an eyebrow and remarked, "Blaming the rain, chief? You sure it's not just because he was turning on the charm and flirting with you? He's quite the looker, and you do have a thing for the sassy ones."
Bull sighed, acknowledging the point. "That's my concern, Krem. He's a bit too good-looking, too charming, and far too self-assured for what a former slave should be."
Krem nodded sympathetically. "Well, let's hope, for your sake, that your gut feeling is wrong, Chief."
Bull simply replied, "That remains to be seen."