Chapter Text
Iron Bull paced the small width of his room at the tavern. His indecision was eating away at him, and step by step he tried to banish his anxieties with movement, to little effect in the end.
Through all his Ben Hassrath training, he was taught to read people. He was usually VERY good at it. But the Inquisitor...something about her made him nervous...and just a little mystified.
It was like that from the first time they had met. He was leading his Chargers into Battle when suddenly four new people were jumping in the fray with them. He didn't even remember who else had been there with her, but he certainly remembered seeing her. Suddenly a petite red head was screaming next to him and slashing out with dual blades mercilessly at their apparently common foe. He was startled by her...something that had never actually happened to him before. She was so graceful in her fighting, lethal as well. Her concentration shone on her face and a sheen of sweat formed on her forehead and across her skin creating a glistening aura. Her eyes, bright green and focused on their foe, didn't notice his scrutiny. A scrutiny that almost cost him, in his moment of surprise, as an enemy nearly broke through his guard.
Learning she was the envoy for the Inquisition after the fight was startling. She was, in fact, the legendary “Herald of Andraste” everyone was talking about, otherwise known as Nova Trevelyan. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't her. She was...charming. She made him laugh, welcomed him into the folds of the Inquisition without much convincing. He watched her walk off to their camp more than a little enthralled by her.
Later, he watched how she worked. Fighting with her was a joy he very rarely experienced in battle. They were in sync, taking down foes with a smooth accuracy that was almost like performing music together. He kept the beats as she played complicated swells with energy and emotion. After every fight she always checked on everyone else first before attending to her own wounds. She was like that, always concerned about everyone else very deeply, and with a sincerity that was so honest it was almost tragic. She held nothing back from other people, and gave everything she could afford to give. She didn't appear to have much regard for her own needs, at least not until after everyone else's had been met. There was once after battle she actually tended to his wounds, gently helping him bandage a hard to reach area, her warm hands like silk across his rough back. It wasn't until after she was finished that she fell into him and he saw the flush on her face and unhealthy glaze in her eyes. She had been hiding a nasty cut across her stomach, tending to his more superficial wound first. Watching her eyes flutter as she limply rested against his chest brought a deep sense of panic into the pit of his stomach. He called for Dorian, their mage, with a barely concealed anxiety in his voice. Dorian, as fond of the tiny woman as the rest of them, raced over and was able to administer healing magic to keep infection and bleeding at bay while they tended to the wound itself. Dorian had taking over dressing the wound and Bull had let him, because the sight of her bared, delicate, pale stomach marred by the gash that cut straight across it made his heart drop into his feet.
That fight had left him confused about his own feelings. Rarely did he develop desires for other people in this way. Usually, women and men came to him, and he acquiesced his affections to them, satisfying himself in the process. Desire wasn't something he really experienced. His needs were always met somehow, so why bother perusing something? Rarely did he become terrified for another's life in this way either. Certainly he cared for his chargers, but death was a fact of life. It happened. He mourned for losses, in his own way, but never felt that gripping fear before the loss had occurred, until he saw her breath slow and her eyes flutter.
He had watched her carefully at the camp as well, and then still after they had moved to Skyhold. She took care of the people looking up to her. He wasn't sure she really believed in the religious calling to her role, but she took seriously the responsibilities of it. She asked about people and their lives, and wanted to be friends with everyone. She would stop what she was doing to have conversations with the stable boy if he wanted, and made sure her people were happy, weren't hurting in any way, and eased stress from those who had it. She was gentle and caring, fiercely protective of those in the Inquisition, those she obviously considered her own.
She was the same with him. She asked after him, even seemed to flirt with him. His training told him that she was interested in him....but his mind still had doubts, because for the first time he actually felt unworthy of someone else.
His mind drifted again to a more recent memory he had of her, the one that had been driving him the most insane. She had come to see him as he had been drinking to celebrate the defeat of a dragon. Never in his life had he thought he would have the chance to take down a high dragon, and it had been almost a religious experience for him. He was drinking and reflecting on it when she had sat down beside him. He had offered her a drink, and she had matched him drink for drink as they talked. The liquor in him, he had even explained the phrase about pleasuring himself later thinking of the dragon. He hadn't meant to say it and had been taken off guard when she asked what the phrase meant. When he had explained, something in her eyes flashed intensely at him. Normally he would be convinced it was desire...but this was the Inquisitor, tiny compassionate, Nova, he MUST be mistaken.
Later in the evening, she toasted to him, and fell against his shoulder, clearly drunk. He toasted back to her, accidentally calling her “his” Inquisitor. He caught her smile, but wasn't sure if she had caught the slip. He was a spy, he really shouldn't be having so many slips. She just seemed to bring things out of people in that way. Or at least out of him. He knocked back the rest of his drink, thinking of how he was positive he was not the only one with eyes for Nova, and that she did spend so much more of her time with Cullen and Josephine at the war table, and that Cullen seemed like he had more affection to give than Bull knew how to.
He noticed then she had not moved from leaning against him. He glanced down and she was quietly sleeping against his shoulder, her lips, upturned in a smirk, parting slightly as she breathed serenely. His heart had melted and sunk low into his stomach. He glanced around nervously, hoping no one saw the loving look that he was sure had come over his face. The tavern was empty, even the barkeep gone to bed for the night (Bull often got the run of the place, since his quarters were located in the tavern itself). It was just the two of them.
He reached over with his other hand and swept her hair out of her face gently. “Boss, wake up.” he said, low and quiet. She stirred, smiled, and let out a small, contented sigh, but did not wake. He tried repeating it and shaking her gently. She only snuggled herself closer, actually moving his arm to the side to place herself against his chest. She was small and warm against him, her hair and skin soft as a kitten. For the first time ever he got the scent of her, leather and sweet smelling sweat, and underneath a hint of something spicy....cinnamon maybe? She breathed gently against his chest, her breath sending tingly chills up and down his body, and the feel of her there creating desire welling up from deep in his groin. He wanted her desperately, he realized then. This tiny woman, who was strong in battle and in attitude everyday but whom he might destroy in the bedroom...he wanted her.
She was obviously not going to wake up. As gently as he could, he picked her up, one arm cradling around her shoulder, the other slipping underneath her knees. She was lighter than he expected, her muscles relaxed completely. She was still smiling as he lifted her into the air. Did she usually smile while she slept? So serene and content. Maybe all her worries left her while she slept, and she could have time to just be herself, not responsible for the rest of the world.
He carried her across the fort and to her own quarters. No one was around except the guards at the gates and on the battlements. Hopefully they weren't paying much attention to the fact Iron Bull was carrying the Inquisitor. None of them made any move to say anything, at least.
He carried her into her room and placed her into her own bed. He removed her shoes and tucked her in. She sighed again, but her smile had finally faded. She looked almost concerned as she slept, like she might be having a nightmare. Before he knew what he was doing, he reached out and cupped her face in his hand, brushing her hair gently aside and stroking his thumb gently across her cheek. She sighed again and her smile returned. He could have sworn his heart actually stopped for a minute as he watched her breath in and out for a few moments. Begrudgingly, he let her go and walked back to the tavern alone. One of the serving girls tried to stop him and seduce him as she headed to her own room, but for the first time in his life, he declined, and went to bed alone. Before, he would have bedded the girl and though of Nova, as he had been wont to do lately. But something about that felt wrong tonight...and so he went and lay awake the entire night, fretting about whether his Ben Hassrath readings were right, and he should approach her, or if it was just wishful thinking on his part.