Fae made as quick an exit as possible, hoping to relocate the swarm of Inquisition guests to safely disappear into, but it looked like they'd all scattered to different perches along with the rest of the crowd. So, she lingered by a table, watching the dancing below and allowing herself to escape into her own mind for a while. It was nice to stand still and be a spectator again, although the urge to bolt from the palace and flee into the woods persisted.

"How ya doin', Fae?"

Fae jolted in her place, shooting Bull a reproachful look even as she moved aside to make room. "I'm fine," she said distractedly. "Shame about Gaspard. Well, not really, the Orlesian elves are probably better off without him around to use them as a political pawn, but Celene and Briala are still doing that too. And it's not like he would have cared if I died. He'd probably have preferred to kill me himself than to be my ally. But I don't like that we were his ally and then we betrayed him. It's not like we owed him our loyalty or anything, but—"

"Come and walk with me."

"What?" Fae looked up, as if she only just noticed Bull was even there. "Oh…ok." She allowed Bull to take the lead, following him to one of the side balconies where it was relatively quiet once the glass-paned doors were closed. Fae wondered offhandedly how much it cost for glass thin enough to see through, but thick enough to muffle and warp the sound of voices behind it.

Bull leaned against the railing, facing Fae, but saying nothing.

She took that as her cue to continue. "It's silly, isn't it? I've killed so many people, these last few years. I used to think, if I ever had to kill someone, it would only be to defend myself. It wasn't. It was a slaver. In Kirkwall. He didn't think I would actually do it. Neither did Isabela or the others. Neither did I, really. Later, after Kirkwall, that was always self-defence."

Bull tried to meet Fae's eyes, but instead watched them dart around, distracted, as if she was having a whole conversation only with herself, that he just happened to be there for. "Then I joined the Inquisition and we were fighting mages and templars, bandits, Venatori, red templars…and tonight? I mean look at this, blood everywhere, and most of it isn't mine," she rambled fretfully, smoothing down her skirt and feeling the crusted edges of smeared blood streaks beneath her palm. "And now the Grand Duke of Orlais and he's not even actually dead yet, we'll be back at Skyhold before it's really over." She started picking at the dead skin peeling on her lower lip, annoyed by its presence.

Bull gently pried her hand away. "Listen. The Grand Duke tried to take the throne of Orlais from someone who had already occupied it for years. He knew the risks. 'Sides, man like that would've hated dying old in bed."

Fae shook her head vehemently. "We turned on him. We were his guests, Ellethir gave him her word, but then Celene said something and she had to change tack and back Briala so we didn't lose both of them."

Bull handed her his glass. "Your turn to drink, my turn to talk."

She drank.

"Neither Briala nor Gaspard would have given us anything without demanding something in return. And now, thanks to you, Seer, we have an army of elven spies at our disposal and a herd of nobles who can't make a move without worrying they'll piss off Andraste in the process."

"That's true…"

Bull turned Fae to face him, hands resting on her shoulders. "We needed to stabilise Orlais before it fell into Corypheus' hands and destroyed everything, not just Orlais. And we did that. Because you managed to convince a master of the Game that you were right. Not many folks in there can pull something like that off."

Fae finally looked at Bull properly, a look of horror dawning across her face. "Oh, no…"

Bull quickly flicked through all the options for what that could mean. "Oh no?"

She let out a shaky breath, wiping her hands on her skirt again. "I told the empress that I knew. How many people she's killed, and hurt. I mean, I implied it, at least. I think I said the Maker would judge her, or something. I practically threatened her, I think I did threaten her, oh Maker…"

Bull covered his face with one hand, and leaned over the railing with the other.

"But I've done that too," Fae nodded, taking his silence as agreement. "I've killed people, I'm a mage that kills people. I don't want to become like Anders, I don't want to… want to hurt people…what?"

Bull's shoulders were shaking, and his palm muffled strange huffing noises. Fae's panic only increased. "Bull? What's wrong, what's happening?"

"You," Bull wheezed, turning his head to the side so that Fae could only just see tears spilling from his good eye, as he beamed. "You told off the Empress of Orlais by making her feel bad about what her human god would think? Ahaha! Ahahahah, ahah!"

This wasn't helping. "This isn't funny, Bull!" Fae protested half-heartedly as Bull continued chuckling. Every time he stopped, he'd look at her and set off laughing all over again.

"Bull!"

"I'm—eheheh—I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Bull cleared his throat. "You're not an evil mage, trust me. I guarantee my body count's higher than yours and I don't even have any magic."

"Oh, great," Fae said sardonically, leaning her forehead on the cool metal of the railing. "What a relief. Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Nope!" A hard hand connected with the seat of Fae's gown, and she whirled around, ready to bite the offending hand off. "But this is," And then his lips met hers, and the world span.

When Bull pulled away to breathe, Fae took both sides of his face with her hands and guided it back, sombrely, to hers. Neither of them were joking anymore. She peppered his lips, his chin, his jaw, with small, frantic kisses, as if she needed desperately to prove that he was still real with each peck.

She felt his cheeks stretch beneath her hands as he smiled, covering her hands with his own. "You wanna dance?"

Fae nodded, allowing him to position both of their arms for a waltz. She found herself staring at Bull's stomach for the first couple of seconds, and chuckled weakly in spite of herself. "Ugh, I forgot how awkwa—Oh!" She squawked as he lifted her up by her waist, still in time with the steps. Fae giggled despite herself, out of pure exhaustion or the absurdity of the situation, it was hard to tell. Bull grinned back, but this time it was a softer, gentler expression.

"I won't tell Monsieur Bourrée if you don't."

They 'danced' like that for a few minutes, Bull stepping and spinning for them both, until Fae's back started to ache from the unnatural position and she requested to be returned to the ground. She was already dreading the aches she'd feel later when the runes embedded in the needlework weren't there to disguise its true heaviness.

"That was… fun," Fae admitted. "Oh! Also, I only realised, just before, I meant to say something earlier, but— I never actually thanked you for pulling me out of the Fade, when we escaped. You saved me from my own stubbornness, then," she mumbled, nudging him with her elbow even as she blushed.

Bull nudged her back. "You're welcome. Hey, listen. Do you want to try a different kind of dance?"

"I would really, really like to," Fae groaned, leaning her forehead on his arm. "But I think I only had once dance in me. What I need is a bed, not more dancing."

Bull leaned down to whisper in her ear. "The kind of dance I'm thinking of does require a bed."

"…What? Oh!" Suddenly she was standing upright again, ears red. "Really? Here- I mean, tonight?"

"Really. You sound surprised. Cullen's giving orders now- we've been given practically a whole wing to ourselves, but it'll be guarded by our people."

"Not surprised, just…but yeah. I—this was a really nice distraction— Shit, not that I would just see it, I mean see you, as a distraction, I mean you are distracting but—"

"Ok, babbling brook, let's head in."

Fae wordlessly walked beside Bull, acutely aware of his hand on the small of her back, to the guest wing. At the end of the public hallway, the doors to the guests' quarters were now open, but still guarded. Beyond these doors were a series of apartments, varying in grandiosity and views of the scenery outside, where those guests who had travelled far had been allocated accommodations by the Crown- both a practicality, and an additional opportunity to flaunt its legendary hospitality.

The Inquisition had been granted the westernmost section, where a rectangle of suites was dotted around one central hallway, now guarded by the Inquisition's honour guardsmen. This was not customary, but as it had been over a thousand years since the formation of the original Inquisition, there was little in the way of extant protocol for hosting its representatives. So, it had been decided to follow the etiquette as used in the event of a royal wedding, where the foreign royal bride or groom's diplomatic attaché would be hosted at the Imperial Palace in Val Royeaux in the days leading up to the wedding.

The guardsmen at the door to this western hall presented the Iron Bull and Fae with an (unenchanted) key each for their respective quarters. They both entered Bull's quarters, and took a moment to look around. The room was not as impossibly spacious as the rest of the Winter Palace, but it was no less luxurious. The walls were covered in shining cloth, intricately stitched with a pattern of arbour blessing and bordered with two shades of golden thread, one pale and one dark. The wide bedframe featured a golden lion at its head, and was covered in a deep red quilt, lined with dark great bear fur. Each of the remaining furnishings- a writing desk, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, held thin glass vases of seasonal flowers.

"Everything here is so shiny…" Fae mused.

Bull sat down on the bed with a grunt. "Ain't that the truth. Need a hand with that?"

Fae gave up trying to pull at the laces binding the corset on her back. "Maker, yes, please. It's so pretty but get it off me."

Bull worked the ties loose with expert finesse, and Fae peeled the corset off, the attached skirt and underskirts along with it, leaving only her grey silk knee-breeches. Then she was hit with the contradictory feeling of weight pressing down on her. It was like she had been squashed between a tower shield and a bronto on all sides, and she instinctively looked down to check that wasn't actually happening. New bruises had formed where the runes had been closest to her skin, but otherwise she appeared uninjured apart from other artificial wounds caused by near misses with daggers and swords. "Hahh…" she bowed over, hands on her hips. "Fuck. Worth it for the intact organs, I guess, but I am going to hate the ride back to Skyhold."

"That bad, huh? Can you heal yourself with magic?"

"Mmph. I could, but I'm spent. Out of mana."

"What's mana?"

"You know that burn you feel in your legs when you've been running too long? It's like that but different, you get this kind of prickly feeling under your skin."

"Huh. Well, I'm sure there's something in all these complementary vials that could help." Bull started picking up and uncorking the little bottles of perfume and bathing oils that were sitting by the washbasin. "Ah! Elfroot, that'll do. C'mere."

Fae took a couple of steps forward, and then stopped. Unbidden, her mind began to race through all the possible ways he could kill her right now, if he wanted to. She was too tired, too low on mana to be a threat to anyone with magic, and she'd even told him as much. She wouldn't be fast enough to stop him. She thought of the Qunari invasion in Kirkwall, running in and out of sight all the way to the Viscount's Keep, only to be dragged out of hiding effortlessly by the first Qunari who'd seen her.

It wasn't fair to think like that; Bull was Tal-Vashoth now, and he was far, far kinder than the Tal-Vashoth that hid along the coast in the Free Marches. But that didn't mean he couldn't kill her if he wanted. Bas imekari. Bas saarebas. If they had known what she was, they would have sewed her lips together. He knew what she was. Bull offered his hand to join him on the bed, but her fingers moved to her lips, passing lightly over them. "Tal-Vashoth, right?" she said quietly, watching his open hand carefully.

"That's right," Bull said steadily, his hand still out. "I was Ben-Hassrath. You might have been rethari, a healer-priest. It means one who helps. Or maridim, a battlefield healer, like you are for the Inquisitor. Mar-itwa'adim, do not let them fall."

She shook her head, unblinking. "No. Bas saarebas. That's what they called us, in Kirkwall. Dangerous other thing, something like that, right?... I guess it's a matter of perspective."

Fae made her decision.

She took Bull's hand and manouvred herself to sit cross-legged on the bed, and Bull moved her hair aside, applying the elfroot balm over her right shoulder. She gasped a little when Bull began to trail a line of light kisses over her left shoulder. She wanted to lean into them.

Bull watched as Fae's shoulders stiffened all the same. At first, he assumed it was the reflexive reaction of sore muscles, until she was barely moving at all, and her breaths were coming in shallow. She wanted to believe. But she wasn't as good at lying to herself as he had been.

"You warned me about playing with fire, little while ago," Bull mumbled in her ear, starting to massage both of her shoulders. "You talk a big game. But you're still wary of the big ol' Iron Bull."

Fae half-heartedly attempted to laugh it off. "Don't you know me by now, Bull? Everyone is wary of me, and I'm wary of everyone. Don't take it personally."

Bull's fingers moved to the base of her skull, massaging their way down her spine, stopping to add more elfroot oil to the pads of his thumbs as he worked. "Sounds lonely."

"…It is."

"I'm not going to hurt you, you're safe here with me."

Fae's voice dropped to a whisper, but she tried to pass it off as playfulness. "I don't believe you."

"Then allow me to explain." Bull's hands worked out every knotted muscle slowly, carefully. "The whole world depends on the Inquisitor right now, she's the only one who can sew up the Fade. And you're one of the only people she trusts enough to keep that kind of pressure from crushing her. Regardless of what I think about anything, you're indispensable. Your survival is of paramount importance, and I will keep you safe."

Fae flinched, just a little. "Is that why I'm here? So you can make me feel safe?"

Bull suddenly pulled Fae back, moving just in time for her to land on her back where he had been sitting a moment ago. He swung one leg over her middle and loomed over her, one knee holding his weight on either side of her hips, one hand covering both of hers above her head. "You're here because you want to be here, and I want you be here. In case no one has told you lately, you might just be the most beautiful creature in all of Thedas."

Fae shook her head with a grimace. "Please, don't say things like that. Don't flatter me when you don't mean it. Not when you would say the same things to all your other lovers."

"You are not all my other lovers."

Fae raised her eyebrows, incredulous. "Am I not?"

Bull trailed his index finger down the side of her cheek. "Brat. Don't know many people who can kill so many people in one shot if they have a mind to. Perhaps I should be wary of you."

Fae's eyes grew distant, and her cheeks flamed as she turned her head to one side. "Maybe. I wouldn't blame you."

"Ah-ah-ahhh, come back." With the same finger, Bull gently guided Fae's gaze back up to his. "Perhaps I should. But I know you. I know I don't need to be. Good eyes or no, you are one of a kind, little mage."

Fae turned her head back to the side with a roll of her eyes. "I don't believe you."

Bull gripped her chin once more, rougher this time, and yanked, forcing her to look at him.

"Then shall I convince you?"

Fae's eyes bored into his, calculating, considering. Then she leaned forward, as much as her present position would allow.

"Alright. Convince me," she said.

Bull leaned down and kissed her.

A/N: Next batch of chapters still cooking, stay tuned! *throws chapter and runs away*