Burn (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

Complicated

The Storm Coast was wet and cold and rainy. Rosalind supposed it was a step up from Haven's snow and ice, but not much of one. She grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest, picking her way down a steep rocky path from the Inquisition's base camp toward the area of the coast where the strange young man who had appeared in Haven asking for the Inquisition to hire his merc company had indicated they would be camping.

"I do not know if I feel comfortable with this," Cassandra said, keeping pace with Rosalind with annoying ease, her booted feet sure on the slippery path. "The Qunari are a strange race, and for one to be in charge of a mercenary company? He must be Tal-Vashoth. Vicious creatures."

"Much as I dislike to agree with the Seeker, it's always best in my experience to stay away from the Qunari."

"Thank you, Varric."

"Anytime."

"If the two of you are done judging sight unseen, I'd like to get there," Rosalind snapped. "I don't see any other merc companies coming out of the woodwork to be part of the Inquisition, and we could use the help."

"You do not need me to point out that coming out of the woodwork is suspicious all on its own, do you?"

"I do not." Rosalind sighed, wishing Cassandra would decide once and for all whether she wanted to be in charge of the Inquisition. She liked to hang back until and unless Rosalind made a decision she disagreed with. Leliana had made it clear that in her eyes, Rosalind had to be the leader because of the mark on her hand and her ability to close the rifts, and maybe that was Cassandra's point of view as well, but as things stood, Rosalind was never entirely sure if she was on her own, or supported, or being hung out to dry. "Besides, they said there were Tevinter mercenaries out here, and we might as well take care of them while we're here."

"A fine point," Cassandra conceded.

"What kind of name is 'Iron Bull' anyway?" Varric asked.

"I'm sure you can nickname him yourself and find something more fitting."

*****

Varric hated the wet. And the rocks. And the mountains. And being half the height of his companions, lagging behind them constantly. Except when lagging behind allowed him to watch them without being observed himself, which was one of the main advantages of his height.

The Iron Bull's mercenaries were already in a fight with the Tevinters when Phoenix and the Seeker found the camp. The two women threw themselves into the fray without a second's hesitation. Say what you might about both of them, they were excellent fighters. And, in Varric's view, for similar reasons. Both of them found something in themselves during a fight that they would never allow free in other circumstances.

Unslinging Bianca, Varric carefully picked off Tevinters until it appeared that the battle was mostly won. He could see a giant form with huge branching horns moving through the aftermath, inexorably toward Phoenix. He could also see the way Phoenix's head snapped up at the sight of the Qunari, her whole body going still. And then he saw the Qunari do the same thing, the two of them motionless and staring at each other across the battlefield.

Varric grinned. Yes, there was going to be a story to tell here, he could see it now.

The Seeker came to his side as he wiped Bianca clean and stowed her away.

"Nice little fight," he said to her. "This Inquisition might make a good story after all."

Snorting, the Seeker said, "I noticed there is little mention of your part in The Tale of the Champion."

Carefully concealing his glee that the Seeker read his books, he said, "I don't want to bore people."

She snorted again. "You don't want to incriminate yourself, you mean. Come, we should help with the clean-up."

Varric would have passed on that, left to himself. The Iron Bull's people seemed to have the situation well in hand. But there was always the chance they had a barrel and a mug of ale going to waste that could be used by a storyteller, so he followed the Seeker more or less willingly.

*****

"Herald of Andraste."

"Iron Bull."

The little red-haired mage in front of him met his gaze without flinching. The Iron Bull always liked that. "Yeah, the horns usually give it away." He'd been watching her from a distance since she and her team arrived on the coast. He'd seen her close two rifts already, and found the whole process both fascinating and freaky. Whatever the green thing was on her hand had great power, and power in the hands of a mage was something Qunari traditionally weren't fond of. The Iron Bull had worked with mages—had a couple in the Chargers, in fact—and was less nervous around them than he had once been, but he still had a healthy respect for their capabilities, in both their positive and negative forms. This one seemed calm enough on the surface, but he could feel her agitation beneath that. He decided to let her off the hook—the prolonged silence between them was making her nervous, he could see. "So. We're expensive, but you've seen us fight, and we're worth it."

"The Chargers seem like an excellent company," she agreed.

"They are. But you're not just getting them—you also get me. You need a frontline bodyguard." The dark-haired Seeker was good, but she wasn't a shield. She was a sword. He was both. "Whatever it is—demons, dragons ... the bigger the better."

She smiled at that, in a way that reminded him of his orders to get very close to her. He had already been aware of that, her nearness prickling pleasantly just beneath his skin.

"One more thing," he added, testing her. "Might be useful ... might piss you off. Ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?"

The Herald of Andraste narrowed her eyes. "The Qunari equivalent of guards and city watch?"

He was glad to see she knew more than he had anticipated. "Closer to spies, but ... yeah, that's them. Or, rather—us." The Herald's eyes widened, and he hurried to explain. "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 and send reports on what's happening. But I'll also get reports from agents all over Thedas. You sign me on, I'll share them with your people."

Her brown eyes were on his face steadily, sizing him up, he hoped. "You're just ... telling me this?"

"Look, someone needs to get that Breach closed." He nodded at her hand, the famed mark hidden presumably under her glove. "That seems to be you. So, whatever I am, I'm on your side."

"You still could have hidden what you are."

She wasn't afraid of him at all. He liked that about her. Chuckling, the Iron Bull said, "From something called the Inquisition? I'd have been tipped sooner or later. Better hear it right up in front from me." He'd always been a fan of hiding in plain sight.

The Herald crossed her arms over her chest and studied him. At last she nodded. "Welcome aboard, Iron Bull."

He reached out a hand to shake on the deal. Hers was small and cold in his, and he found his fingers closing around hers more gently than he had intended. For a moment, he wished he could just pull her close and find those full red lips with his, see how she tasted right here in the rain.

Hastily, he let her go. The instant attraction—which was mutual, he could see it in the widening of her brown eyes—would make things easier, but also might make things more complicated. Well, complicated could be fun, he told himself, heading off to find Krem and get the Chargers packing to leave for the Inquisition's headquarters.