Archive of Our Own

get a little closer, let fold
cut open my sternum and pull
my little ribs around you
the rungs of me be under, under you

They are together at Redcliffe, when the green light consumes the Herald and the mage. Bull growls next to her, and Cassandra closes her eyes, readies herself for a fight. For a fight that doesn’t come.

She hears his axe fall to the ground, and Cassandra balks.

“We’re made, Seeker.” He looks right at her, and Cassandra nods.

It is in a warrior’s blood to know when they’ve been beat. Cassandra breathes, and drops her sword.

They take her away, and his eyes never leave hers.

A few days later, they drag them both out to sit before Alexius. He seems pleased with himself, as his castle begins already to crumble. There is a terrible stench about the place, and Cassandra realizes with a jolt that the hall is filled with soldiers alongside demons. She swallows and focuses on a spot on the wall behind the magister’s head.

“Whatever shall we do with you? Two of the former Herald’s greatest soldiers, here at my disposal.” He stands and walks between them. “Perhaps you should fight for me? Entertain my men. Or perhaps I could show you what my plans are, what kind of future we will all live in, sooner than you think.”

He reaches forward and grabs Cassandra’s chin. “So lovely,” he says. “A Nevarran, yes? You are terribly far from home.” He turns to Bull. “And this one—” Alexius folds his arms over his chest. “You are strong, that much is clear. Your loss would be terrible. But I won’t kill you.” He leans very close to Bull’s face, so close that Cassandra can see the spit fly when he speaks. “I will break you, Qunari.”

I would like to see you try, Cassandra thinks.

Alexius nods and a man carrying a great shield comes behind Bull, bringing it crashing over his back. Bull doesn’t make a sound, barely moves, as though it were only a sting, just a bit of wind on his skin.

“Again,” Alexius says. The man nods.

They beat him for over an hour, more coming. They beat him until his body bleeds, and Cassandra can only watch.

He keeps his eyes on her. All the while, their gazes are locked, and Alexius forces her to watch as her companion is beaten until he can hardly stand.

They drag them both away, separated again, and Cassandra lies in her cell and considers the idea of resilience.

Every so often, they bring them out, and they beat The Iron Bull.

Cassandra is growing used to the sight of his bruised, split back. He would hate her if she spoke up, hate her more if it meant she took the beatings instead.

She doesn’t know what they plan to do with her.

But she is not afraid.

“Come on.” One of the Venatori opens her cell door, eyeing the pile of food she has refused. Cassandra is tired, weak from hunger, but there is a leak in the ceiling of her tiny cell, and she has collected enough water during the day to sustain herself. She won’t starve. She is better than that.

She expects they will take her into the hall again, but Alexius seemed to be growing bored with his own punishment, and she realizes that she is being brought somewhere else.

They lay her out, strapping her wrists down to a long table, then leave her there for almost an hour, alone. The room was once a place of torture, she can tell that right away. Now it seems to function as a makeshift lab – there are glass bottles and vials, full of something red and thick. The smell is familiar, and poignant.

It is the smell of red lyrium.

She eyes he scalpels and needles, and she knows what they are going to do with it.

By the time they return to her, she has managed to claw her way out of one of her bindings, and they need three men to subdue her. They smack her for strangling one of them, and her ears ring. They tie her down again, and begin to cut.

Cassandra doesn’t scream. Not when they draw her blood, not when they force the viscous concoction down her throat. She doesn’t scream when they drip it into her open wounds, and she doesn’t scream when they smear it across her cheeks.

She doesn’t make a sound.

After, they take her back to her cell. She doesn’t see anyone for several days – they feed her on occasion, but she is slipping, and it frightens her. She isn’t sure how long she can last – she has never felt pain or torture like this.

But she sees the Bull, when she tries to sleep. Sees the way he keeps his eyes open and fixed straight ahead each time they beat him. And even though the lyrium is staking its claim on her body, Cassandra doesn’t flinch when they come for her again.

She weathers her pain as she has been trained to do.

She knows for certain they have been there for nearly two months. In time, they drag her back out, but not to shove lyrium down her gullet. They bring her out into the hall to kneel before the magister. It aches to do so – the lyrium is growing from her joints, but she doesn’t make a sound. She almost expects Bull to be in a similar state, but he is as he was the last time she saw him, a ghoulish color now, face and torso varying shades of dying bruises and tissue.

“Seeker,” he says, voice so low she almost doesn’t hear it.

Alexius claps.

“Marvelous. Fantastic. The future, my friends. The rich one we were promised for our sacrifice. You will be the foothold, Seeker Pentaghast. You will both be the stepping stones on our ascent. You should be proud.”

Cassandra’s blood boils with anger, and it takes everything she has not to lunge at him, and choke the life from him with her bare hands.

Bull closes his eyes. He trembles for the first time.

The next time she sees him, he is with the Herald, and he is as red as she.

“Lookin’ good,” he says, some of his bravado having returned.

“I see you still live,” she says coolly, testing her sword.

Bull laughs. “Like a king, Seeker.”

After Redcliffe, Cassandra wonders.

“I am not interested in knowing what you saw,” she tells the Herald. In part she is relieved not to know, cannot find it in herself to be curious about a thing that did not truly happen to her, even if her dreams are trying to say otherwise.

They are only dreams.

The Herald shrugs, understanding of course, choosing not to push. Cassandra goes back to observing the recruits, aware that she is being watched from behind. She doesn’t look at the Qunari, and eventually she feels his shadow fall over her.

“That ‘Vint told me I wouldn’t have liked what he found at Redcliffe.”

“Then I suppose there is no need to talk about it anymore.”

Bull folds his arms over his chest. “You keep saying that, Seeker, but I don’t think that’s how you really feel.”

Cassandra turns, putting a hand on the pommel of her sword and closing the space between them. “You know nothing of how I feel,” she says, and he is so large, so big in front of her. Cassandra fumes –

And he laughs.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Seeker.” He takes a step back and turns to go back to his tent, leaving confusion in his wake.

It becomes hard, after that, to be with him. He says thing that make her vicious , challenges her when she is not expecting it. They nearly come to blows their first night in Skyhold, outside the forge where she has not asked him to be.

“Why do you bother me so?”

“I wasn’t aware that’s what was happening here,” he says, grabbing her hand before she can hit him. “You’ll regret that, Seeker. Won’t feel good in the morning.”

Cassandra wants to howl. Bull grabs her other hand.

“We need to sort this out.”

“There is nothing to sort.”

“Something happened in that village. You know you can feel it.”

“I cannot,” she says, staring at the ground between them.

“Terrible liar,” he murmurs.

Cassandra lifts her head. “Sometimes…sometimes my dreams. They are so red,” she whispers.

“It’s the lyrium. ‘Vint says it was growing out of you. Out of me.”

Cassandra chokes.

“Said they’d fed it to us.”

“No more.”

“Said they wanted to make us into it.”

“No more.”

“Said we were dying, that we did die—”

Cassandra shouts, and draws her sword.

She is on the ground before she realizes it, her blade feet away from her, the Bull’s massive form over her. His hands are on her wrists, but the touch is gentle, careful not to bruise. She struggles and kicks at him, but he doesn’t move. He is a stone on her chest, and she is aching.

“You need to let this go.” He looks right at her. “We need to let this go.”

Cassandra trembles underneath him.

“How?”

The word is katoh.

Cassandra tests it. She has never spoken Qunlat before. It sounds thick in her mouth, and he laughs when she trips over it, waiting until she can say it, clear and calm.

“Good,” he says, and kisses her.

“Easy,” he says. “Easy, Cassandra.” He slides his length into her, and she scrambles at the bedsheets, gasping as he fills her. “That’s good. That’s beautiful.” She thinks the burn of him might never end, but then he stops, reaches the hilt, and draws out.

His first thrust is hard. Cassandra cries out.

“You’re strong,” he says. She nods. “You’re made for this. You can take this, can’t you?” Another thrust, faster now, harder. Cassandra feels her body arch off the bed, taking him as deep as she can. “You’re beautiful.”

“Oh—”

He gets her legs around his waist, raising himself up and putting a hand on either side of her face, looking down at her. “Eyes open,” he says. She obeys. “Don’t look away.” Cassandra nods, watching his expression as he fucks her, thrusts coming faster now, forcing her body to jolt with each one. “We died there.”

“No.”

“There’s a word, Seeker. You can use it.”

She swallows. She won’t.

“We are alive here,” she says, though how she isn’t sure.

“Good. That’s good to know, good to understand.” He leans down and captures her lips in his own, nips with his teeth. “You were strong there, Cassandra. Just like you always are.”

“You were there. You—” He pushes in, sharp, and she gasps. “Will it leave me?”

“No.”

“I wish it would.”

“No you don’t. You need it. You need to be stronger.”

She reaches up, grasping the back of his neck with her hands and pulling him down. He drags his teeth over her throat.

“Up,” he says. She goes with him, settling in his lap, his cock buried inside her. “Take it,” he says. “Show me how good you are. Show me how good you can be for me.”

Cassandra nods, and she raises up, lowering herself slowly back onto him. He lets her set the pace, watching her all the while. She stares right back, and feels their noses touch, their foreheads pressed together. He doesn’t kiss her again, but their lips brush, and she feels his breath hot on her face.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he says. “You’re incredible.”

“Please—”

“It’s been ages since you’ve touched yourself, hasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“What do you want from me, Cassandra?”

“I want—” She throws her head back, feeling her muscles tighten as he grabs her hips and holds her down on his cock. “I want to come.”

“Then come.” He brings a hand down and touches her clit, just a gentle press, a soft circle.

Cassandra lets go, and feels everything fall apart.

If she thought it could ever be a secret, her expectations are shattered.

How Dorian knows – how anyone knows – she can’t be sure. But she goes to breakfast a few days later, and Sera is grinning madly at her.

“We finally have somethin’ in common,” she teases, leaning forward.

Cassandra sighs. “And what is that?”

“We’re both into them horny ones,” she says, and cackles. Cassandra blinks, and Sera laughs louder. “You left your underthings in his room,” she says. “Not your underwear though.”

Cassandra feels Bull come and settle next to her, feels the rumble of his laughter in her chest.

“The Seeker doesn’t wear underwear,” he says, and puts a little cake on her plate, turning to her. “She figured it out on her own.”

“And everyone knows?”

“Well the ‘Vint does, so. Yeah.”

Varric leans over from his side of the table. “This’ll make a great chapter,” he says, winking.

Cassandra throws a spoon at him, pleased when it hits him right in the nose.

Bull chuckles, brushing his lips against her temple.

“Good girl.”

He has her bent over her meager desk, his cock moving in and out of her quickly, shaking the wood beneath her. It’s the middle of the day, and Cassandra should be leaving to have her meeting with Cullen about recruits.

She is going to be very late.

And she is so far removed from his touch, until he leans forward and presses his lips to the back of her neck.

“You feel good, Cassandra.”

She moans, reaching between her legs to touch herself. He stops.

“Why—”

“Don’t. Don’t come yet.” She swallows, nods. “Hold out for me, I’ll make you feel good.” Cassandra gasps as he moves harder, now, each thrust slow and grand. She hasn’t been with anyone in this capacity before, never had someone treat her like she was both fragile and steel all at once. It excites her, makes her entire body shake.

She wonders if she could come without touching herself. If all she had to do was imagine him inside her, hear his voice—

“It’s this,” he says. “You’re getting closer.”

“I can’t—”

“You can. You’re incredible, you’re fucking amazing. Everything about you is beautiful.”

“Oh, please, please let me come—”

“Stop asking,” he snaps. “Or you won’t get it.” Cassandra freezes, feeling his hand stroke her hip. “You need to be good, Cassandra. You need to be patient.”

“I…I can be.”

“Then let it happen. Feel it, and I’ll make sure you get what you want.” He kisses the back of her neck again. “I’ll always give you what you want.”

She does as she’s told. She is patient, and good.

He doesn’t fail her. Cassandra doesn’t think he’s capable of doing so.

She becomes aware that something is changing when he returns from a trip and is barely alive.

It’s Krem who comes to fetch her, rousing her from bed at almost one in the morning. She pulls on her cloak and rushes after him, freezing at the door of the infirmary.

Maker, but there is so much blood.

“I need you to step back!” the healer shouts. “I need you all to step back.”

“He needs blood, sir.”

“Well wake up the soldiers, then. That’s what they’re here for, isn’t it?”

She hadn’t even known Cullen was there, but she hears him growl, sees him grab the healer. “You will not farm my men, do you hear me?”

The healer shoves him away. “I need donors, Commander, I already told you. And if you—”

“I will do it,” Cassandra says, stepping forward. “If it is blood you need, I will give it.” She moves closer. “I have done it before. My blood is good.”

“If it isn’t,” the healer says, “he’ll die.”

Krem speaks up behind her. “He will without it, and the Seeker doesn’t lie.”

The healer shrugs. “It’s your decision. Sit, and we’ll get a siphon.”

Cassandra holds out her arm when they ask her to, watching the blood travel from one place to another, hoping that it will be enough.

It must be, she thinks. You did not even say goodbye. Insufferable lug.

They take too much the first time, and she finds herself sleeping on a bed next to him. Varric and Dorian hover at her side, swearing at one another.

She moves, trying to sit up. “Where—”

“Maker’s breath, Cassandra.” Dorian grabs a cup of water. “You gave us a fright.”

“Idiots,” Varric mutters. “Fucking idiots. They nearly killed you. That damn healer ought to be driven out of here, he’s too damn eager.”

“Bull—”

“He’s resting. You did quite well,” Dorian says gently. “Nearly killed yourself, but you did just fine. The Chargers brought in their healer as well, and they’re awfully angry you almost died. Threatened to kill the other one. Krem had to make nice.”

Cassandra sits up, feeling the exhaustion in her bones. In the bed beside her, Bull’s chest rises and falls slowly.

“They say they need more,” Dorian says. “Just a bit.”

“I’m sure I have some left.”

“You shouldn’t.”

Varric chuckles. “Probably shouldn’t boss around the Seeker, Sparkler. I’ll go get Stitches.”

She falls asleep in a chair beside his bed, and wakes up with his face right next to her own.

She jumps, nearly falling onto the floor, and he laughs, pulling back as she swats at his arm. “That was not funny.”

“You were cute laying there.”

“Ugh.”

Bull sighs, reaching out to take her hand. He turns it over, pushing up her sleeve and clicking his tongue. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t,” she says. “I wanted to.”

Bull shakes his head. “Shit, Seeker.”

“You were dying. I could not allow it.”

“I was gonna be fine.”

“I won’t argue this point with you,” she says quickly. “I did what I felt had to be done. You are still here, so I think that is reason enough for it.”

He nods, reaching up to cup her cheek. “You’re something else, do you know that?”

Cassandra leans into the touch and closes her eyes.

He is still recovering when she receives news of her Order. The Inquisitor agrees to ride out with her at once, and goes to fetch a pack. Cassandra grips the letter tight, and heads toward the stalls.

“Caer Oswin’s barely a few hours’ ride,” someone says. Cassandra turns and finds herself chest-to-chest with Bull. “I could go with you, or send one of my boys, at least.”

“It will be a simple thing,” she says, ducking her head and stashing the letter. “If the Inquisitor wishes others to join us, that is their business.”

“But you don’t want anyone there.”

“I…no. I don’t.”

He sighs. “You keep wanting to shoulder the blame for things you didn’t do. You started when you were a girl, I suspect.”

“Now is not the time for you to pick me apart,” Cassandra says quickly, walking along the stables and finding her usual mount. “I am not taking the blame for the Order’s disappearance, but I won’t pretend I haven’t been complicit.”

“That’s your prerogative then.” Bull shifts on his feet. “But don’t let it turn you into something else.”

Cassandra sees the Inquisitor heading toward her with Dorian. “I will be just fine when I return.”

“You better be,” the Qunari says, and stoops down to press his lips against her ear, giving it a gentle nip. Cassandra breathes sharply. “Getting real tired of going easy on you.” He grins and leaves her there in the stable, flushed. She shakes off the feeling and greets the Inquisitor, hoisting herself up onto her mount.

She spares one look back at Skyhold, and finds him watching her, as though she’s made some sort of promise. Cassandra supposes she has, in a way.

“Are you alright?” the Inquisitor asks, tone soft and kind.

Cassandra smiles. “I am quite well,” she says, and guides her horse toward Caer Oswin.

She is not quite well by the time they finish.

Daniel’s blood still stains her sword, awash with the Lord Seeker’s as well. Cassandra’s stomach turns at the sight of it, at the very idea of what it means.

Every part of her heart is broken, and it takes all her energy to raise herself onto her horse.

The book weighs heavy in her pack.

“Cassandra?”

“Hmm?”

“We can ride on, but there’s…there’s a camp nearby. Harding’s doing some scouting.” Cassandra looks up to ask how anyone could possibly know this, but spots one of Leliana’s crows flying back toward Skyhold. “We can rest…”

“Yes,” she says. “That would be fine.” And Cassandra doesn’t quite remember the rest of the evening, in truth. She knows she is helped off her horse and taken into a tent, and the Inquisitor instructs everyone to mind their own business. Cassandra hears the laughter of a card game go up, as she struggles to fall asleep.

The noise is loud enough to mask her sobs, and the sight of Daniel’s face, streaked with lyrium and contorted in pain, is enough to ward off any true rest. By morning, she is twice as tired as she was before, and she certainly must look it. The scouts avoid her like plague.

It’s before dinner when they reach Skyhold. Cassandra doesn’t register leaving her horse in the stables, or climbing the stairs to the forge. She doesn’t think about dropping all her things into a pile and falling onto her bedroll.

When sleep finally takes her, Cassandra can hardly think of anything else at all.

He gives her space. He gives her time. He lets her come to him.

She finds him in the tavern, seated as if he might be holding court, though the bar is largely empty.

“You look like shit,” he says, and wraps his arms around her.

She chooses silence, keeping her cheek pressed to his chest. He’s always so warm.

Bull sighs, pulling back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Do you want me to fuck you?” The words are sharp, honest. Cassandra worries her bottom lip, but shakes her head. “Do you want to go back to sleep?” he asks, quieter now.

Oh, Maker, she does, and she tells him as much.

“Come on then.” He stands and takes her hand. Cassandra is pulled, her feet moving of their own accord, and in his room, he shuts the door and bolts it before wrapping his arms around her again. “None of it’s in here, Cassandra. It’s all out there. As long as you’re here, it doesn’t matter.”

“I—”

“It doesn’t matter.” He puts his hands on either side of her face, so large, so warm, and Cassandra opens her mouth and cannot stop the choking sob that spills out. “Oh, Seeker. Cassandra.” He holds her close. “You’re safe here. You’re good. You’re fine.”

Cassandra nods, and lets him lay her out on his bed, rolling into him as he stretches next to her.

“Sleep as long as you need. I’ll be here, if that’s what you want.”

“Please.”

“Alright then.” He kisses her forehead. “I won’t leave.”

Cassandra breathes, resting her hand on his chest.

Just there, underneath it all, she feels his heart, beating.

She finds their breaths come in time, and it is enough to carry her away.

When she wakes, he is sitting up, reading a book. She hasn’t seen him read before, and she is curious about it. Cassandra pushes herself up against him, resting her head on his chest and looking at the words. They’re in Qunlat, she realizes, or at least suspects. He laughs, and it shakes her fully awake.

“What is it about?” she asks.

“It’s about a pirate. Not something from the Qun. We don’t have a lot of books, really, but sometimes an outsider brings in a story, learns Qunlat and translates it. I like books,” he says simply. Cassandra leans heavier against him.

“I do, too.”

“You want me to read it to you?” She nods. “Alright.” He shifts, turning his eyes back to the start of the passage. “He loved the sea because it was boundless, and took no prisoners. He could stand at the bow of the ship and spread his arms wide, feel the spray of the ocean on his face, and imagine that he was flying. He loved no one and nothing like he loved the water, and when he was gone from this world, he would be returned to it, as it was surely meant to be.”

Cassandra isn’t with the Inquisitor at Adamant, and so, she doesn’t tumble into the Fade.

The Inquisitor brings Bull, and he does not enjoy the trip.

“Hit me,” he says after, trying to shake the last dregs of the Fade from his mind. She does, but he isn’t satisfied. Again and again she brings the stick down on him. Bull growls. “Come on, Seeker. This is why the Qun doesn’t let women become warriors.”

She scowls, lifting the stick once more and bringing it crashing down onto his chest. He wheezes, falling to the ground and laughing.

“Good one,” he says, and then pulls her down with him.

It is weeks before she wants him to touch her again, her grief finally giving way to a melancholy that she can manage. Cassandra has done what she can with the book, but it weighs heavier each day, and there are a dozen things that she can put in front of looking at it, or even thinking about it.

He comes back from the Fallow Mire, tired and wet, but happy all the same.

“Can I meet you later?” Cassandra asks, arms behind her back. He folds his own over his chest, grinning down at her.

“Sure you can. After dinner.”

Cassandra smiles. “Alright. After dinner, then.” She turns to head into the keep to meet with Josephine, starting when he laughs and gives her rump a quick swat as she is walking away. Cassandra turns, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Looking forward to it, Seeker.”

“As you should,” she says.

For the first time since she was a teenager, she allows her hips to sway.

“It’s been a while,” he says. His hands trail down her sides, thumbs brushing over both her nipples. Cassandra arches into his touch, eyes fluttering closed. “I didn’t forget how fucking gorgeous you are, though.”

“Ugh.”

“Come on, Seeker. You gotta let me say those things. Gotta let me tell the truth about you.” He bends down and kisses her neck, sucks a bruise where he knows people will see it, where she will be able to press her fingers against it and think of him. “You’re beautiful.”

“You are…you—”

“You can call me beautiful, Cassandra. It does wonders for my ego.”

She laughs, running her hands over his arms and up behind his neck, drawing him down to kiss her. “You are beautiful. And you are so good to me.”

“You deserve it.” He brushes a scar on her cheek. She does the same for him.

“We have fought all our lives, haven’t we?”

Bull smiles. “It’s who we are.”

“I would like…like to be something else, sometimes.”

“Oh? Like what?”

She bites her lips. “I…I am not sure. But, tonight—” She brings a hand up, fingertips brushing the point of one of his horns. “I am content to be yours.”

Bull groans, flipping them over so she straddles his waist. “You say the nicest things, Seeker.” He pushes himself up to kiss her. “Show me how much you mean it,” he says. Cassandra swallows and nods, slowly making her way down his chest, kissing him as she goes. She has felt his cock flagging against her since he practically tossed her onto the bed. She hasn’t done this for him yet, and she feels his gaze on her, watching as she reaches out with a tentative hand and wraps it around him, stroking carefully.

“You remember—”

The word. “I do,” she says, and slowly takes him into her mouth.

He is so often composed, his expressions so carefully controlled – Cassandra doesn’t get to see him relax this visibly very often. But he does, one hand going to her head and stroking her temple as she takes him, her free hand twisting around the base of his cock. He is large, warm in her mouth, and she keeps her eyes on him.

He looks proud.

Cassandra would be content to stay here for the night, pleasing him, making him look at her that way. He says quiet things, good things that make her wet, make her so happy to be his, in this moment.

“My Seeker,” he says. Cassandra shudders. He says it again.

She cannot reciprocate, for a dozen reasons, but he finally pushes her gently from his cock and brings her up, seating her in his lap.

“Come on,” he says, and guides himself inside her. “Come on.”

“Oh—”

“Slow. Go slow. Feel it, Cassandra. Can you?”

“Yes, yes, I can—”

“What do you feel?”

“You. I feel you.”

“No.” He puts his hand behind her neck and forces her to look at him. “What do you feel?”

She looks at him, her mouth open, the wordless noises that fall from it the only thing she can manage to say. She feels whole, right here. She feels wanted and needed. She feels – and she grabs his hand in her own and brings it to her lips, kissing his palm as she rides him, as she takes him over and over.

“That’s it,” he says. “That’s what I wanted to know.”

He lets her come first, and howling into the heat between them, her forehead coming to rest against his own. Bull suddenly lifts her off of him, laying her flat on her back again. He stands, leaving her there to shiver in the chill of her aftershocks. Cassandra can hardly see, she is staring intently at the ceiling, only listening to him shuffling around. She feels him settle back onto the bed and take her wrists gently in his hands. He raises them up, and he starts tying them to the headboard. She looks right at him.

He slows, but doesn’t stop. He’s giving her a moment to think, but she hasn’t said the word, and that means it continues, despite the kindness of his own heart.

“Do it,” she says, and he doesn’t hesitate. He moves quickly, and his knots are strong. She could get out of them if she worked at it, with no distraction – but he is teasing her folds with his finger, slowly pressing one inside her. She clenches around him, still keyed up after her orgasm. Bull smiles.

“They’ll hold.”

“I know,” she says, teeth grinding together. He chuckles.

“Up we get, then.” He takes her legs and pushes them back, spreading her and sinking his cock into her in one go. He’s deep, and Cassandra cries out, hands clenching into fists above her head. He fucks her, he takes, and Cassandra loses herself in the feel, the solid slide of his cock in and out of her, the pressure of her legs bent back, the rhythmic slap of his skin on her own.

“Fuck, Cassandra. That’s good.” He looks right at her, and he slows down, thrusting hard, the bed slamming indelicately against the wall. “You can come again,” he says, and she nods, incapable of words. He grunts, reaching between her legs and pressing his thumb against her clit as he thrusts in and out, picking up the pace. Cassandra gasps, and her second orgasm washes over her, warm and perfect. She sags in her bindings, and Bull groans, spilling into her with one last thrust, her name dying on his lips.

They lay like that, her arms stretched above her, his cock inside her. Her head lolls to the side, vision still not quite there. Everything is foggy as he pulls out of her and goes to get something to clean her. He is careful, kind, bending to kiss her hip, raising up to wet one of her nipples and blow on it.

Cassandra feels the laughter startled out of her, and feels his own ripple through her. “There she is,” he says quietly.

“Bull—”

“C’mere.” He reaches up and undoes the knot, bringing her closer. “You did good.”

“And you,” she says, huffing.

“I always do good.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, yes, you were impressive as ever.”

“Oh, Seeker, don’t break my heart now.”

Cassandra sits up on her elbows, smiling as he gets up to look for a blanket.

“May I stay?” she asks.

“You have to,” he says, crawling into bed next to her, throwing the blanket over them both. “I’ve got morning plans that involve me getting a pretty good view of your ass.” Cassandra makes a noise and swats his arm, but he pulls her close, burying his face against the back of her neck.

She falls asleep that way, content for the first time in so long.

Cassandra is walking with Josephine, attempting to understand precisely why the Inquisition’s uniforms for Halamshiral need so many buckles , when Bull walks right up behind her and picks her up.

“Let me go,” she growls, and he drops her, laughing.

“Good morning, Ambassador,” he says, bowing deeply. Josephine giggles and hands a stack of papers to Cassandra.

“Please look these over. And let me know about the dancing, if you will?”

Cassandra sighs. “Yes, alright.” She flips through the papers, scowling. This will be a headache, sorting out business for the Winter Palace. She realizes Bull is still standing there, watching her. “Why do you insist on lifting me?” she asks.

“Because you’re tiny,” he says, as if that explains it. “I want to ask you something.”

“Alright.”

“I received a Ben-Hassrath report. They want to help out the Inquisition, and they’re gearing up for an attack on the Storm Coast. There’s a group of Venatori trying to smuggle red lyrium into Minrathous.”

“This is request for an alliance then.”

“It is.”

“What are you asking me?”

He shrugs. “Go with us. You should see that Qunari dreadnaught, Seeker. It’s a sight.”

She frowns, tucking the papers against her chest. She trusts Bull, and she is glad that their different faiths have not made things difficult. He doesn’t speak of the Qun, and Cassandra keeps her prayers and her faith to herself, as she always has, lovers or not.

She isn’t sure how she feels about this, but he is…happy. In a way she hasn’t seen before.

“Cassandra.”

“I’m…sorry. Yes, of course I will accompany you.”

He grins. “Good. We’ll celebrate after.” He reaches around and gives her ass a quick squeeze before heading out. She stands in the hall, rolling her eyes after him. A whoop goes up from Dorian and Varric’s place at the table, until the Inquisitor flicks bits of apple at them both.

Cassandra doesn’t care for the Coast. In truth, she has never cared much for rain. But Bull is glad, cheerful, even. They meet with his friend Gatt, and Cassandra learns more about the Qun in five minutes than she has in her months with Bull. She has never asked, though. And he has never offered.

They fight their way closer to the cliff side to signal the dreadnaught. Cassandra watches Bull’s face change as it sails into view. “That brings back memories,” he says quietly. She is certain it does.

The dreadnaught is a warship, it takes down the Venatori’s boat with ease, but as they watch, a group begins marching toward the Chargers. Cassandra sees them, so clearly, watching as they draw their weapons.

There are too many, she realizes.

“They will not survive,” she says, and grabs his arm without realizing it. He looks at her.

Cassandra has never seen him broken. She wishes she didn’t have to see it now.

“You can call the retreat,” the Inquisitor says. “They can still make it.”

“No!” Gatt steps closer. “Your men need to hold that position, Hissrad.”

Cassandra detests the nickname. She detests this whole thing.

“They do that,” Bull says. “They’re dead.”

The Inquisitor shakes their head. “Call the retreat, Bull.”

He nods, producing a horn from his side. He gives one long drag on it, and Krem and the others fall back.

“All these years, Hissrad. And you throw it all away. For this. For them.” Gatt nearly spits.

Cassandra steps forward. “His name is Iron Bull.”

“Yes,” says the elf, shaking his head. “I suppose it is.”

They don’t watch Gatt walk away. Instead, they keep their eyes trained on the dreadnaught. The Inquisitor swallows. “Bull, when it sinks—”

The Qunari laughs, the sound hollow. “Sinks? Boss, Qunari dreadnaughts don’t sink.”

Cassandra looks out at the water, and the ship is engulfed in an explosion as the Venatori lay waste.

She turns to him, reaching for his hand. “Bull…”

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s…get back to my boys.”

She touches the wound left some days later by a shoddy assassin and kisses his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” he says, sensing her distress. “Stop worrying.”

“I cannot. It is a flaw of my character.”

He laughs, drawing her closer and kissing her temple. “What’s on your mind, Seeker?”

She hums, closing her eyes. “I was worried for you, on the Coast. I was worried you would…that—”

“I wouldn’t abandon my boys,” he says. “I don’t like this…this feeling. Tal Va-fucking-shoth,” he mutters. “It’s shit. But it’s worth it, if the Chargers are still standing at the end of the day.” He looks at her. “But that’s not all.”

“I am just…curious I suppose. About your people.”

“Not my people anymore.”

“You never spoke of them before.”

He shrugs. “You never asked.”

“Well yes, but—” Cassandra huffs. “I wondered something. About…about this.”

“Us, you mean.” She nods. “We are whatever you want us to be, Seeker.”

“So is there…something that your people do? When you…care for one another?”

He laughs again. “Well, there is one thing. You’d enjoy it.” Bull reaches up and strokes her cheek. “You kill a dragon, and you take its tooth and split it in half, then you each wear one. That way you’re never apart, no matter how far from one another you travel.” Cassandra wrinkles her nose and he laughs. “No? Not interested in having a tooth necklace?”

“It seems…filthy.”

“It is, a little. Killing dragons is dirty work, but you know that.”

Cassandra sighs. “I was only curious.”

“Curiosity is fine. Want to be curious about something else?” he asks, squeezing one of her breasts.

She lets him pull her tight against his chest and smiles. “How…intriguing.”

They kill three dragons in the Emprise. They kill three dragons and help Varric destroy a handful of red lyrium stashes, then take Suledin Keep. They do all of this and, when no one is looking, Cassandra yanks one of the dragon’s teeth from its still smoldering head, and shoves it into her pack.

She brings it to Dagna and Harritt, and they split it, clean down the middle.

Dagna even makes it pretty.

Cassandra holds the two things in her hands, pleased with herself, pleased with the handiwork. She brings them back to her room above the forge and sits them on her desk, wondering how she might give him one.

Her breath catches in her throat, and her heart stutters.

Killing the dragon, she realizes, had been easy. Pulling its tooth, carrying the heavy thing through the snow – a simple task.

Giving it to him – that is something else entirely.

And then he is never alone when she wants to speak with him. If he is not with the Chargers, he is with the Inquisitor, or Cullen, or Varric, or someone. Every free moment she would usually have is eaten up with work for Halamshiral, for a thing she cannot stand. She is approving troop movements with Cullen, discussing maps of the grounds with Leliana. And on top of this – she is teaching the Inquisitor to dance.

It is almost as hard as trying to give that blasted Qunari a gift. Their hero and savior is an awful dancer.

Cassandra ends their fourth lesson late at night, her feet sore from being trodden on. She fully intends to go to her room and rest, but finds her way blocked.

“Have you been trying to get me alone?” Bull asks. Cassandra sighs.

“Yes.”

“Well. I’m alone now.”

She groans. “I cannot. There is…I must go get something, first.”

He raises an eyebrow and shrugs. “Alright. Get what you need, and I’ll be in my room.”

“I…yes. Yes, alright.” Cassandra almost runs to the forge, taking the stairs two at a time and grabbing the gift. Her hands shake, and she feels like such a fool, fears now that she might be rejected. He had not told her with the intent she would do this for him. She had not told anyone. She had hardly told herself.

The tooth weighs so heavy, heavier than it did whole, it seems. She swallows and nods. She is a Seeker. She is a warrior. She can tell a man that she cares for him, and would share her heart like two halves of a fang.

He is waiting for her, the fire warm, the room glowing orange.

“What’s that, Cassandra?” He sits on the bed, but she can’t move from her place by the door. “Come closer.”

“Perhaps…perhaps I will stay right here.”

“No,” he says, and she gives in, walking toward him and settling next to him on the bed. She feels small. “What do you have?”

“I…here. It is for you.” She shoves the thing into his hands. Bull looks at it, and pulls the paper off.

“Oh.” He holds the tooth in his palm. “Cassandra.”

“I…We killed three of them in the Emprise.”

“I heard.”

“You would have loved it,” she says softly.

“I’m sure I would have, but I love this.” He turns and takes her face in his hands.

“I am glad that you do.” Cassandra covers his hand with her own, pressing a kiss to his wrist. “I care for you. Very much.”

“How long did it take you to give this to me?”

She groans. “Is it so obvious?”

“Very much.”

She sighs. “A few weeks.”

“Shit, Cassandra.”

She stands, putting her hands on her hips, pacing slowly in front of him. “I am not good at this. I…I like to be wooed,” she confesses. “I like romance. Poetry and flowers and—” Cassandra huffs. “But I care so much for you. I could not go any longer without…without telling you. And the idea was romantic, despite my misgivings. I could not get it out of my head, could not stop thinking—”

Bull grabs her and kisses her, fitting her perfectly between his knees.

“It’s perfect. It’s perfect because I care for you as well.”

“You…you do.”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

He chuckles. “Convenient, right?”

“I…well. Yes.” Cassandra nods and lets him kiss her again.

“Get naked, Seeker. I wanna hear about how much blood was in your hair after you killed three fucking dragons.”

She laughs, pulling her shirt over her head.

“More than you could ever imagine,” she says.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Bull grins, leaning back on his elbows. “Try me.”

On the edge of a cliff in the Approach, Cassandra loses her footing.

“Cassandra!” Dorian lunges for her, but she scrabbles at the rocks, and nearly takes him with her. The demon responsible falls to the bottom of the canyon, taking her sword with it. She closes her eyes, and feels strong, hot hands reaching under her arms, lifting her up.

“There you are,” Bull says, smiling. Cassandra squirms in his grasp.

“Put me down this instant.”

He chuckles setting her on her feet and brushing the dirt from her arms. “You need to be more careful, kadan.” He whistles and goes to help the Inquisitor pick up a few things.

Dorian is still sprawled on his belly, staring up at her.

“What?” she asks, wondering if it would be worth the journey for her blade.

“He…do you speak Qunlat?”

“I do not.” She knows only one word, and has never used it.

“He…it means—”

“Dorian! Stop picking flowers and let’s go!” The Inquisitor points to the camp at the end of the ridge. “We’ll get you a new sword, Cassandra. Chantry scout’s honor!”

Cassandra nods, swinging her shield over her back and helping Dorian to his feet.

She doesn’t ask him what it means, and he only stares at her retreating back.

Bull takes first watch after that, and Cassandra is loaned a sturdy sword from the camp’s stash. The Inquisitor yawns, promising to make her a new one, and retires. Dorian follows them, grumbling about sand in awful places, leaving Cassandra and Bull sat by the fire, alone. She looks at him.

“Thank you for helping me today.”

“You’re just so easy to pick up, Seeker. Easy to goad, too.” He passes her a bottle of whiskey and she takes a long drink. “Nice.”

“You called me something,” she says, handing the bottle back. Bull pauses. “You called me kadan.”

“I did. I meant to, the other night. But you were, ah. Distracting.”

“You were the one who wanted to know how long I straddled one of the necks.”

“I told you, that was for research.”

She laughs, leaning against him. “What does it mean, Bull?”

He smiles, putting an arm around her. “Kadan. It means ‘my heart.’”

Cassandra feels her own twinge, a strange warmth bursting through her.

“My…heart.”

“Yeah.”

“I…oh.”

He looks at her. “I’m going to call you that, unless you tell me not to.”

She lifts her head, watching him watch her. They sit like that for a while, their gazes locked, scouts moving around them in silence as the fire crackles.

“Kadan,” she repeats.

“Kadan.”

Cassandra feels something bloom. She reaches up and draws him close, kissing him for a long time by the flames.

“My heart,” she whispers. “Mine.”

“Yours.” Bull puts a hand over the organ in question. The moment is beautiful, until he squeezes her breast.

“Bull.”

He laughs, ducking her light blows as she tumbles into his lap.

“Oh, kadan. You are too easy sometimes.”

“Hopefully not all the time.”

“Definitely not,” he murmurs, and kisses her hard.

She is grateful sometimes that he is better at finding her than others seem to be. She is sitting on the ground in the garden, behind a rose bush, while Mother Giselle calls her name. The woman’s voice fades away, and Cassandra feels a familiar shadow fall over her.

“What are you doing?” Bull asks, reaching down to take her hand.

“Ugh. I am hiding from that insufferable woman.” She brushes the dirt from her breeches. “She is relentless.”

“What’s all this about?”

“I…” Cassandra reaches out to toy with one of the buckles across his chest. He takes her hand in his, forcing her to look at him. “I have been offered a candidacy. For the Divine.”

Bull looks at her, grip on her hand loosening, for just a moment, before it tightens again. “That’s news.”

“It is.”

“How do you feel about that?”

She sighs, freeing herself from his grasp and wandering further into the garden. They are alone, this early in the morning. “I am not sure. The position is restrictive, obviously. I would not be able to rebuild my Order, but I…I have given my life to the Chantry. There is so much that it can do, so many ways that it can be better.”

“Lot of times it’s easier to change something like that from the outside,” he says.

“Well…yes, this is true.”

“You just don’t seem like the throne-sitting type.”

Cassandra frowns. “You have quite a strong opinion of this,” she says.

Bull shrugs. “Your Chantry has quite a strong of me. Of my kind.” His voice is low, abrasive almost. Cassandra won’t pretend to know him as intimately as he possibly knows her, but she is aware, now, when there are things that upset him.

“You don’t like this.”

“No,” he says. “I don’t.”

Cassandra nods. “Is it because you don’t care for the Chantry?”

“It’s a little bit of that.”

She stands closer to him, matching his stance, challenging him. “What else is it?”

He manages to get even closer, almost impossibly so. Cassandra swallows. “You gave me something, kadan. Or have you already forgotten?”

“I have not. But this is not something I can ignore, simply because I gave you a tooth.” He steps back, so far from her, and she suddenly realizes the gravity of her words. “Oh. Oh, Bull, that is not what I—”

“It’s your decision, Seeker.”

“Yes, but—”

“That’s it. There’s no other way around it. It’s your choice,” he says. “Everything has always been your choice.” He glances up at the sun, now beginning to beat down from overhead. “Spring’s coming,” he murmurs. “Things always change.” He turns back to her and smiles. “It’s your choice to make. You have the words. Use them.”

He walks past her, and Cassandra nearly shouts, nearly screams the word at his retreating back.

Katoh, she wants to say.

But he is turning a corner, and the moment is gone.

The difference between what she said and what she should have said tastes bitter on her tongue. She sleeps alone that night.

But if he is good at finding her, she is just as good, if not better, and stumbling upon him when she does not expect it.

“Ah,” he says, staring down at the bottom of an empty bottle. He’s in the room below the keep where they have been storing old wine and whiskey. “You caught me,” he says. “Cullen’s down in the dumps, we’re going to get him properly drunk and shoot things with arrows. Care to join?”

Cassandra takes the bottle from him, throwing it against the wall. It doesn’t shatter as she thought it might, instead bouncing happily across the floor.

Bull raises a brow. “Well. That was anticlimactic.”

“You may not just…just say things to me and leave! I am sorry for what I said, but if you had given me a moment—”

“You just would have talked yourself into a hole, Cassandra. I did you favor.” He reaches up, finding a completely full bottle. “I told you—”

“Yes,” she says. “It is my choice. How convenient that you may put it all on me, even though I am not the only one who gave something.” She grabs one of the straps across his chest and yanks him closer. “You said it first.”

“I did.”

“You called me—”

“Kadan.”

Cassandra lets go. “It is not only my choice. Not while we…not—” She takes a shaky breath, reaching into her blouse and unearthing one half of the tooth. “How could you just…let me go? How could you, when you know that you have part of me? How—” Cassandra gasps as he lifts her up, pinning her against the wall. “Bull—”

“You are the most infuriating woman I have ever met, do you know that? You’re so fucking stubborn and belligerent. You’re impossible,” he growls, and claims her mouth. Cassandra moans, wrapping her arms and legs around him, rolling her hips. “If you want to be the fucking Divine, then do it. I’ll get over you.” He holds her close with one hand, the reaching down to grind against her cunt, his palm rough and hard against her breeches. “But not because I want to.”

“Oh—”

“You want to say it. Stop holding back on me and say it.”

Cassandra’s eyes fly open and she cries out. “Oh, fuck—”

“That’s it. That’s good. Is that what you need, kadan?”

“Yes, oh yes. You, I need you.” She kisses him, feels her feet touch the ground again and his hands begin pulling at her breeches, shoving them down. He reaches for his own, drawing out his cock. “Do it,” she says. “Oh, please—”

“Ah, shit.” He slides into her in one thrust, holding himself there, letting her adjust. “I’m going to fuck you until you scream, kadan.”

“Yes, yes, yes—”

“I’m going to make you mine, right here.”

“I am always yours, oh Maker—” Cassandra digs her nails into his shoulders as he pounds her, fucks her relentlessly against the wall. His pace is brutal and fast, owning. Cassandra doesn’t have time to register each thrust by itself. He is a constant thing inside her, the pressure of him almost too much. Cassandra feels him where she hasn’t before, doesn’t mind the scrape of her back against the wall. He keeps his gaze locked on her, and she is too far gone to look away.

“Mine,” he growls. “Kadan.” He shudders, slowing down now, and groaning. Cassandra stomps one of her feet, her body on fire, feeling him getting closer. He shouts and comes, his forehead resting on the wall above her. Cassandra whimpers as he pulls out, watching him as he lowers himself to his knees.

“You’ll scream for me, kadan.” He puts his mouth over her, fucking her with his tongue. The idea that he can taste himself, taste her, is enough to make her do what he wants. He squeezes her thighs so hard she’ll bruise for certain, and when he puts his lips over her clit and sucks – she does as she’s told

Cassandra screams, and she’s fairly certain that soldiers walking on the battlements can probably hear her.

But she doesn’t care. She sinks to the floor with him, shivering. Bull fixes her clothes, carefully tucking his cock back into his trousers. They stare for a long time at one another. Cassandra swallows, still gasping for breath.

“My heart,” she says.

He nods, bringing her closer.

“Kadan.” He kisses the corner of her mouth. “I need you, too.”

Cassandra is relieved when they return from the Winter Palace. She had not enjoyed herself. Bull apparently hadn’t either.

“You know I’ve got no problems with Orlesians,” he mutters. “But Halamshiral was a mess.”

“Agreed,” she mutters. She’s still exhausted from the journey, and shoves potatoes into her mouth.

“At least under the Qun you don’t have people tripping over each other’s dicks why the country goes to crap.”

“Are you allowed to compare the Qun to other countries now that you’re Tal Vashoth?” Dorian asks. The Inquisitor elbows him in the side. “Well I’m just asking.”

“You’re good, ‘Vint.” Bull pauses. “Actually. You’re exactly the person I wanted to talk to today.”

“Oh? Going to make good on all that flirting?” Dorian asks, receiving another good jab in the ribs, this time from Varric on his other side. “I’m only joking,” he says. “I know she’s right there.”

Cassandra rolls her eyes. “I do not have time for this. I must meet with Cullen.” She pauses, though, to drop a kiss onto Bull’s forehead. “Be careful with him, please.”

The Qunari chuckles, leaving Dorian choking on his breakfast.

Her meeting with Cullen leads to more meetings and more days of training. Halamshiral had been a mess, and they need to consider troop movements and other options before progressing. They have also… acquired an asset that Cassandra does not approve of, and she is required to meet with Morrigan before they proceed.

Leliana requests that she play nice.

And she does. She meets Morrigan’s son, and fields questions about what might happen next. And she is respectful, despite her misgivings. It is a successful meeting, and Cassandra decides that her day is done. She’s worked hard, and there are still the last few pages of Varric’s gift to her to read before she is finished with it.

She goes to the forge, and finds the door locked.

“Oh, for the love—”

“Seeker!” Cassandra groans.

“Varric.”

“Tiny’s looking for you.”

“I am exhausted, Varric.”

He holds up his hands. “Hey, he didn’t tell me what his plans were. Just said he was looking for you.”

“The door.”

Varric grins, wiggling his fingers. “Master lockpicker, promise. You go meet your Qunari and when you come back, it’ll be all open for you.” Cassandra huffs, folding her arms over her chest. “I won’t steal anything.”

“Where is he?”

“That little grove, outside the keep.” Varric waves her off. “Go on, I hate picking with an audience.”

Cassandra highly doubts it, but she goes anyway.

There is no one in the grove, nothing to speak of. Cassandra scowls, wondering why she continually falls for Varric lies – until she realizes there are candles on the ground.

“What—”

“His lips on mine speak words not voiced, a prayer which travels down my spine like flames that shatter night.” Bull steps out from behind the tree, peering at a book. “No, shit. Ah. On aching branch do blossoms grow, the wind a hallowed breath. It carries the scent of honeysuckle, sweet as the lover’s kiss.”

“Oh, Maker.”

“It brings the promise of more tomorrows, of sighs and whispered bliss.”

“Maker, Bull.” She grabs the book from him and looks through it. “Are…what are you doing?”

He grins at her. “You said you liked poetry. But, uh, I’m not good at that. Dorian found it for me.” He grabs her by her waist. “You said you liked flowers, too. Figured the candles part came with it.”

“I…yes.”

“I got the lines mixed up. Varric said this guy was banned.”

“He was.”

“Red said you’d like it.”

Cassandra closes her eyes. “I do.”

Bull brings his fingers under her chin and lifts her head. “You gave me something, kadan. I wanted you to have something, too.”

Cassandra smiles, holding his fingers loosely in her hand. “My body opens, filled and blessed, my spirit there. Not merely housed in flesh, but brought to life.”

He laughs. “I was going to read that one next.” Bending down, he picks up a strange bouquet. “Josephine said these weren’t flowers.”

“They are weeds,” Cassandra says, and takes them in her hands.

“I’ll do better next time.”

“Oh, Bull.” Cassandra throws her arms around his neck, hefting herself up and wrapping her legs around his waist. He laughs and puts his hands under her thighs, holding her close. “My heart.”

“It’s beating pretty fast.”

“It wants you,” she says quietly.

“Ah, kadan.” He kisses her. “The feeling is mutual,” he says, and lowers her carefully to the ground.

He makes her cry out under the stars.

My body opens, she thinks. Filled and blessed.

Perhaps it is a mistake, she thinks, as the rocks tumble around them.

Perhaps it is – was – a mistake to fall in love.

Corypheus falls.

The Inquisitor lives.

Cassandra cannot find Bull.

She finds Krem, searching for the rest of the Chargers, digging them out of the rubble. They are alive – battered, bruised, but still standing.

“Where is he?” she asks. Krem grimaces.

“Chief…Chief was with Cullen’s men. Down there, where the temple was.”

Cassandra runs.

She runs, tripping over rock. She grabs Cole as she does, holding him by his arm. “Where is he?” she asks. “I know you can hear. My dear, Cole, please.” She holds his face. “Where is he?”

“The rocks, it’s crushing, his heart, his heart—”

“No.”

Cole runs ahead of her, and they spot the shine of sunlight on Cullen’s armor. He is digging out his own men.

“Come on, then! This battle’s not won, not until we know where every last soldier is.” He turns and sees Cassandra. “Maker’s breath.”

“Where is Bull? Krem said he was here, he said—”

“He was with them, he’s here somewhere, Cassandra, I swear it.”

Cole turns to her. “Under the rock. He is not afraid, but his heart. He aches, he is wondering where you are.”

Cassandra turns to the rocks and Cole goes, lifting one up, then another.

He is buried, she realizes.

Krem appears behind her, the Chargers standing at attention.

“Chief’s there?” Cassandra nods. “Chargers! Put your backs into it!”

Cassandra stands alongside them, lifting one stone after another. Smoke and ash spills out, covering her. She is filthy, coughing when she sees his hand, and reaches for it. “Bull—”

“Easy, easy.” Krem and the others carefully pull off the rock, exposing their leader. “Oy! Chief!” Cassandra rubs dust from her eyes and clambers over stones to kneel by him.

She lays her head on his chest, and hears the slow, stuttering sound of his body, still living.

“Bull,” she whispers, spreading her hand over his chest. “You will not leave me now. I killed dragons for you, you fool. I gave you my heart,” she says. “You may not take it with you, not like this.” She drops her forehead onto his shoulder. “You great lug.”

For a long time she sits there, waiting for the sturdy organ under her hand to give up. She waits, and waits. She reaches up and touches his nose, gently. Broken, bleeding. He will be proud of it later, if he wakes.

“Kadan,” she says.

He stirs.

“Ah, shit.”

The Charges all shout out in unison, catching Cullen’s attention. He comes over and stands by the rubble, shaking his head. “Bloody Qunari,” he mutters.

“Oh, is he alive?” Dorian asks. He has an arm around Varric, limping. Behind him, the Inquisitor appears with the others, grinning. “He hasn’t just gone and died on us without fair warning?”

Bull coughs. “Blow me, ‘Vint.”

“I should think you’d want Cassandra’s permission, first.”

The Qunari opens his eyes, and catches her wrist. “Are you crying, Seeker?”

“I absolutely cannot stand you,” she says. She pulls off her glove to wipe at her cheeks, swatting him in the chest with it. “Do you hear me? You insufferable oaf. I cannot—” Cassandra squeaks, right there in front of everyone as he pulls her down into a kiss.

“You talk too much sometimes, kadan.”

Cassandra laughs, but it is almost a sob, a sound of pure relief. “I love you, you great idiot.”

“And I, you.” He holds her chin in his fingers. “Krem,” he shouts. “Get me out of here.”

Cassandra has never celebrated like this before. She dances for hours, with Bull, with the Chargers, with Dorian, even with Cullen and Varric. She drinks wine, she throws her armor off and onto the ground in a huff. She even lets Sera kiss her on the cheek. She dances with Blackwall, too, and hugs Vivienne. She thinks about Solas only once.

She cannot be sad, or angry, or worried.

Leliana finds her, and kisses her cheek. “You are happy, my friend.”

“We have won.”

“In so many things.”

Cassandra is flushed from the wine and the fire. She laughs, wrapping Leliana in her arms.

“We are blessed,” her friend whispers.

“Yes, we—” Cassandra is suddenly lifted, again, Bull pressed against her back. “You!”

“Are you two fighting over who should be Divine?”

“Of course not.” Cassandra finds herself being held very close.

Leliana smiles. “The Inquisitor will offer the Chantry their opinion next week.”

Cassandra wiggles and Bull puts her down. “Yes. And it will be you, my friend.”

“Cassandra—”

“No other will be as good a Right Hand to you, you must know this. Or be better qualified to choose her own replacement, at least.”

“Certainly.”

“Besides.” Cassandra feels her braid dance along her shoulder, and Bull’s insistent hands pulling her away. “I have an Order to rebuild, I must—”

Bull growls. “Chantry talk later. You and me, bed. Now.”

“But I—”

“You can beat me up for this in the morning.” He picks her up and puts her over his shoulder, carrying her through the hall.

“You put me down this instant!”

“I’ll put you down when I’m good and ready, Seeker.” Bull waves as they pass through the crowd. “We’ll see you all in the morning. Important business to take care of right here.”

Cassandra sees Dorian and Sera howling with laughter, and resigns herself to her fate.

“I absolutely cannot stand you,” she mutters.

“You keep saying that,” Bull says. “But I just don’t believe you.”

Cassandra finds herself smiling all the way to his room. And he makes love to her that night. He pushes her closer and closer to the edge, then pulls back. He digs his teeth into her shoulder and she screams as he fills her. He is rough and beautiful and Cassandra finds herself being used and run ragged, taken again and again.

This is their last night together before duty bleeds through.

It is worth every sweet bruise, every love bite and twinge of muscle she feels come morning.

“I love you,” she says, over and over again.

He groans. “Kadan, kadan—” Bull holds her close. “There is no one like you.”

“My heart—”

“Come, Cassandra. Come.”

She cries out, and she hears him groan, feels him let go.

“I love you,” she repeats.

Bull closes his eyes, pressing his lips to her forehead. “And I love you.”

“You and I will see one another again,” she says. They are standing together at the edge of Skyhold, his men loaded into a wagon, waiting patiently for their fearless leader. “I do not doubt it.”

“You have half of my heart,” Bull murmurs. “I will always find you. Besides.” He cups her cheek. “You’ll probably need someone to knock a few heads around once that Order of yours gets up and running.”

Cassandra nods. “I…I will miss you terribly.”

“Oh, kadan.” He wraps his arms around her. “You’ll hardly notice I’m gone.”

“I will,” she says. “But you will do fine without me, I suppose.”

“Ow,” he says. “You wound me, Seeker.” He laughs. “I want you to do something for me.”

“Alright.”

“In the fall, that first day of fall, I want you to meet me in Val Royeaux.”

“Orlais? Really?”

“Yeah. Won’t be much trouble. You do your best to get there, I’ll do mine.”

Cassandra nods. “Yes, alright.”

“And if we manage it, if we both make it—” Bull bends down and kisses her, fiercely. Cassandra nearly falls over, wrapping her arms around his neck to hold herself up. He pulls back. “If we make it, we’re going to give those Orlesians a run for their money.”

“Maker take you,” she mutters, but nods, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. “Kadan,” she says.

“Mmm. Kadan.”

“Alright.” Cassandra pulls back. “Go. You have a job, I know this.” He chuckles. “Stay strong,” she says. “Stay safe.”

“You hear that boys? Seeker says to be safe!” The Chargers begin laughing, stomping their feet. “Better do as the lady says, don’t you think?”

Krem smiles. “That we do, Chief!”

“See? We’ll stay safe.”

“I doubt it.” Cassandra steps back. “Not another moment. Go. You have work to do.”

“I do,” Bull says. He walks backwards toward the Chargers. “Alright, boys. Let’s move out!” Another cry goes up from the wagon, and they begin their journey away from Skyhold. Cassandra stays there, watching them. He looks back only once, reaching for the dragon’s tooth at his neck. Cassandra does the same, keeping a hold of it until he has finally disappeared from view.

It does not feel like a loss, she realizes, as she returns to her room and begins to pack her things. There’s work to be done, and though she misses him already, she isn’t afraid that he will forget her.

He has half of her heart, after all, and she, his.

Someday, they will need to put the pieces back together.

you make a fine shrine in me
you build a fine shrine in me