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ashkaarishok · 3 years

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The Iron Bull and the Valo-kas

~1760 words - Rated Teen - Iron Bull / f!Adaar

AU in which Shokrakar was at the Conclave and died there, leaving Adaar to be the leader of the Valo-kas and join the Inquisition as mercenaries.

“Inquisitor. May I have a word?” The demure mage looked up from her staff and tilted her head to stare at Herah. The Vashoth was nearly two heads taller than her. Evelyn Trevelyan was a very short human, indeed. It increased her fragile look, but Herah didn’t let it skew her perception of her: everyone looked fragile and small to her unless they were of her race. “Yes? Mh… Adaar, from the Valo-Kas, right?” “Yes, Your Worship.” “You’re doing great work protecting our scouts and keeping people away from the rifts,” she stated with a warm smile. Herah bowed her head to the acknowledgment of their work. “We only wish we could do more against Corypheus.” “Oh, I remember,” the Herald murmured. “You lost a lot of your people to the Conclave…” “Including our leader, yes. I’ve taken charge of the Valo-kas since then…” Herah glanced to the bushes where Katoh had dragged the Iron Bull earlier. She could count on her to distract the Qunari, and the Chargers were laughing and drinking by the fire with the rest of her company. She could speak freely with the Inquisitor, but she couldn’t beat about the bush for long. “What’s the matter?” The human asked with a friendly smile. She didn’t look like much of a threat, but it was easy to understand why her troops liked her despite the fact she was a mage. “It’s my understanding that you’re going to meet with Qunari forces. While I don’t want to presume, we have limited trust in them and we’re fearing this might be some kind of trap for you,” Herah explained bluntly, her hands resting on the tip of her battle staff. “Oh. Well, I understand you have a history between Tal-Vashoth and Qunari, but I trust the Iron Bull,” the Inquisitor explained, a little more reticent. Herah nodded. “I thought you’d say so. You wouldn’t have agreed otherwise. Nonetheless, I’d like to offer you our assistance, should you need it. If something goes wrong, we could be nearby and answer a horn call. If everything goes well then the Qunari wouldn’t be the wiser.” The human was really easy to read: her indecision was written all over her face. “It would only be a short detour for us and, contrary to what some may think, we can stay quiet and out of sight when needed. If the Qunari can be trusted like you think… well…” She shrugged. “We’ll be able to observe it with our own eyes.” “... Alright, but you’ll stay out of sight unless I call,” the Inquisitor ordered after a moment of reflection. Herah agreed easily, listened for more instructions, and took her leave long before the Qunari came back or the rest of the Chargers looked away from Kaaris’ story.

In the morning, they parted ways like planned. The Inquisitor’s team had stopped in an Inquisition’s camp for a night. It was by chance that the Valo-kas had rested here at the same time and that the local scouts liked to share with their protectors what they heard of the Inquisitor’s goals. Learning that the Iron Bull was an agent of the Qunari was indeed a nasty surprise for most of the Valo-kas. Herah might have been born outside of the Qun and as such less hostile, but she still remembered her parents’ stories and listened to her friends’ warnings. The Inquisitor was their only chance to get revenge against Corypheus for the deaths of their friends at the Conclave. She had to be protected, even if it meant dealing with the Qunari themselves, something none of the Valo-kas were looking forward to. In this mindset, they stayed in the background, looking from afar as Venatori’s camps were destroyed. The Valo-kas were restless, hating the inactivity and despising the view of the dreadnought. Everything seemed to work as planned. Maybe the Qunari truly wanted that alliance. It would have been stupid of them not to, but Herah couldn’t pretend to understand their way of thinking. The Valo-kas were going to walk away when a specific horn call, their signal, sounded out. Herah spun around. Did the Qunari agents dare to attack the Inquisitor? Damn it, they were too far away from her to intercept an assassination attempt! That wasn’t what they had feared; especially not with the Inquisitor’s companions by her side, they were supposed to be trustworthy (more than the Iron Bull at least). But no, that wasn’t it. Even at this distance, she could see a spark of blue light coming from the Inquisitor’s staff thrown toward the other hill, where the Chargers were. “What’s going on?” Katoh asked. “She wants us to support the Chargers,” Herah realized. She burst out of their hiding place and ran between the trees. She had to trust the Inquisitor on this, there must be a threat to the Chargers that they couldn’t see from the heights. Considering how much she seemed to value her friendship with the Iron Bull, she wouldn’t have used the signal if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. The Valo-kas followed her without question, trusting her judgment. They ran through the forest and heard the sounds of battle as they neared the cliff. The Chargers were outnumbered by Venatori. Bellowing loudly, the Valo-kas threw themselves into battle. “What are you doing here?” Krem shouted as he beheaded his opponent. “Saving your neck!” Herah replied, knocking over two mages with a swipe of her staff to their knees. “Did you follow us?!” “We were just enjoying the view,” she replied, throwing a mage down the cliff with a kick which probably caused his ribcage to cave in. The Venatori were slaughtered in a matter of minutes. Immediately, Krem rushed to her. “Explain yourself!” Herah blinked and tilted her head. Damn, he was cute, like a fierce mabari trying to defend his master’s honor. “We didn’t trust the Qunari, so we kept watch.” “The Inquisitor knew?!” Herah smiled at him and patted the top of his head. “You’re welcome. Valo-kas, we’re leaving!” They shouted their agreement and followed as she left.

***

The Valo-kas went back to Skyhold for rest and supplies two weeks later. When they stepped on the training grounds, the tension with the Chargers was silent but undeniable. “Adaar,” the Iron Bull called. “A spar?” “Sure. If you want your ass kicked,” she agreed. There was no point refusing. If they had to come to blows, it might as well be here instead of in the field. Herah twirled her staff and took a defensive position. The Iron Bull, proving he was well named, charged without hesitation. Their fight was quick-paced, intense, and brutal. Neither of them held back, and they both took blows that would leave them black and blue for days. It ended quite spectacularly when Herah jumped high and hit from above, breaking her staff on the Iron Bull’s back, while he hit wide and his forearm caught her torso, throwing her backward, into their audience. He had fallen to a knee, and she was sprawled on her back. They both needed a moment to catch their breath. Cursing in Qunlat, Herah sat up slowly. “That was my ribs, Qunari,” she hissed. “And that was my spine, Vashoth,” he replied with a smirk. Her friends helped her stand up, and she grunted as she shifted. Hopefully, she didn’t have broken ribs. The Iron Bull, crazy Qunari that he was, laughed as he straightened. “Now that we’ve gotten it out of our system, a word in private, if you don’t mind.” It wasn’t a question. Herah ended up in his room, but how he had convinced her to let him bandage her bruised ribs, she wasn’t sure. She might have gotten a concussion somehow among the blows. She was sitting on his bed in her breast band, but she didn’t feel vulnerable for all that. If that had been his goal, he had failed, and she let him know by glowering at him while he unwrapped a roll of bandages. “I don’t need you and the Valo-kas to like me,” he started, “but I need to know we can work together.” She raised an eyebrow at him while rubbing ointment onto her skin. “When did we not? It went quite well when we saved your men’s necks, as far as I recall.” He sat down by her side and unrolled the bandage once around her chest. “Yeah. Except you weren’t there to be our support, were you?” “But you can be damn glad we were.” “I am, but that’s not the subject. You don’t like Qunari, you don’t like me. Fine. But there is an alliance now. Will you respect it?” His gestures were quick and practiced as he passed the bandages from a hand to the other. She breathed deeply and winced at the pain. “We follow the Inquisitor’s orders. We don’t like them, we’ll leave. We’re Valo-kas. We do what we say, and we keep our word.” “So we’re good?” “Good is not the word I’d use. You’re still a damn freaking spy.” “I have bigger fishes to fry than Tal-Vashoth if that’s what you worry about.” “And Vashoth?” “Vashoth aren’t even a concern, back home. Tal-Vashoth, yeah, they left the Qun, they can be a problem. Vashoth? You’re just bas.” Herah squinted at him, trying to decide what to think of those pieces of information and if he were serious about it. The Iron Bull pinned the bandages in place, tapped her bare waist to indicate he was done, and pulled away. She adjusted her shirt over her chest and watched him as he stood up again. “In any case,” the Iron Bull continued, “there is an alliance between the Qunari and the Inquisition. You work for the Inquisition. As long as you do, we’re allied.” “... so we are safe?” “We keep our word too.” Herah hummed, considering. “Alright. We’re good… for now.”

***

The next time they met, ale helping, Herah ended up in his bed. She wasn't even upset at her lack of self-control. The Iron Bull had his way with words and a lot more than that too. She understood how he charmed any crowd and how he got his information. And if her lapse of control happened again, well, it was purely sexual. After all, it didn’t stop her from leaving the Inquisition a few months only after Corypheus’ death. Call it a hunch, but in her experience, things were going too well. It couldn't last.

#dragon age fanfiction #dragon age inquisition #iron bull #adaar #iron bull x inquisitor #mine #My writing

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trvelyans-archive · 4 years

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ready or not

a commission for the lovely @scoundrel of her adaar and cole and the valo-kas mercs !!! <3 thank you so much for commissioning me !!! this one was really fun and i hope you like it <3

Herah hasn’t decided if she’s ready for this yet.

She’s not a stranger to this feeling – questioning herself, questioning the world around her. The two years she’s spent so far with the Inquisition have accustomed her to it more than she’d like. There’s little she can do about it now, though, because the Valo-Kas are almost here, and all that’s left to do is wait. Wait and see where this goes; see if she’s prepared enough for this. Prepared enough to see them again after so much time as passed.

She hasn’t seen the mercenary group since before the destruction of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Now, with Corypheus dead and gone, it feels like a sort of homecoming. She wonders if they’ll think she’s changed. Surely she has – no one from the Inquisition has been left unscathed after everything that’s happened – but she wonders if they’ll think she’s changed too much after becoming Inquisitor. She wonders if they’ll even consider her to be the same person she used to be – their healer, their confidante, and, above all, their friend.

Of course they will, she tells herself. (Even if she doesn’t quite believe it yet.)

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to – she’s sure her companion will be able to convince her otherwise soon enough. She feels Cole before she sees him, sliding into place beside her on the battlements and joining her in staring out at the valley and watching the road, however winding and far away it is. She requested that a forward scout wait for the Valo-Kas in one of the valley camps and send a letter when they were on their way to Skyhold so that Herah has enough time to prepare before they arrive, but she’s watching, anyway, just in case.

“Was this a bad idea?” she asks, turning to Cole with a frown. “Inviting the Valo-Kas? I mean, I miss them, I just… I don’t want them to be disappointed in who I’ve become.”

“Varric was right,” Cole murmurs, eyebrows drawing together. “You are hard on yourself. Harder when you shouldn’t be, and harder when it hinders and doesn’t help.” He looks up at her, watery eyes wide with concern. “They will not be disappointed. There is nothing for them to be disappointed about.”

“Thank you,” she says. Cole reaches for her hand and twines their fingers together, and though his touch is cold and almost uncertain, it’s more comforting than anything else she can imagine. She smiles – she can’t help it. It’s hard not to when he’s around, however new their relationship might still be.

New, but not unnatural. Herah isn’t a delicate woman, no matter how much she dreams of it, and yet being around Cole allows her to feel that way. Not just delicate, but… seen. Worthy of being taken care of. Worthy of being thought about and desired, something she’s never experienced before. After all, it seemed impossible, considering her height and her horns and her fingernails and her teeth and… well, everything about her that screams “Qunari”. She could never be like the women on the covers of the romance novels she reads. She isn’t human enough for that, and yet he makes her feel like she is. Not human enough for that, but simply enough for that. And she hopes she can make him feel the same way, too.

Well, if everything goes wrong with the Valo-Kas, at least she’ll still have him. And that is certainly a good consolation.

After a few minutes of standing around in silence, a scout rushes up to them. “Lady Adaar,” he says, and he sounds out of breath, “I’m here to report that the Valo-Kas mercenary group is on their way up to the castle.”

“Already?” she asks in disbelief – she thought they wouldn’t arrive until sundown. “I… “ She trails off, pausing for a moment to collect her thoughts as best as she can before remembering the man is still waiting for further direction. “I’m sorry, Scout, thank you. You’re, um, dismissed.”

The man nods and rushes off in the other direction as fast as he had come, and Herah turns to Cole.

“Do I look good?” she asks him, smoothing her hands over the front of her robes. Josephine only gifted them to her recently, and she hasn’t worn them quite enough to break them in properly, so the light pink fabric is stiff, almost constricting, which perhaps makes her anxieties worse. “Are my robes nice enough, or do you think I should change into something else, or – do I look okay?”

“Yes,” Cole says, tilting his head and smiling up at her. “You always look beautiful.”

With a relieved breath, she turns to the valley again. Sure enough, there’s a small speck of colour on the white-washed landscape at the bottom of the guard tower that she hadn’t noticed before – it must be them, prepared to ride up to Skyhold on the lift. She can’t see anything very well from here, but, the longer she looks, the more that she knows in her heart that it’s them.

At the thought of seeing her friends again, all fear rushes out of her, and she barely even has time to lean over and grab Cole’s hand before she’s running along the battlements and down the stairs into the castle courtyard.

It’s a few long, agonizing minutes before they arrive – moments during which Herah shifts her weight back and forth from one foot to another and wrings her hands until, eventually, Cole takes both of them and holds them tightly and whispers the exact reassurances she needs to hear – but, eventually, a cluster of wagons and carts rolls beneath the gate with a group of burly-looking Qunari at the head.

Oh, yes, this certainly does feel like coming home.

Herah’s face splits into a wide grin, and before she can stop herself she’s running across the courtyard, flinging herself at Shokrakar who responds with much less enthusiasm but still, miraculously, responds, thumping one hand against the smaller qunari’s back while holding her up with the other.

“I almost don’t recognize you,” she says when Herah’s finally on her feet again. The taller woman inspects her thoroughly, though Herah can’t complain when she’s doing the same thing. Shokrakar looks older – a few new wrinkles line her face, and she’s lost a little weight from her face so her cheeks appear more hollow. Still, she’s the same in the ways that count, as is her armor and the sword strapped to her back. “You’re wearing robes. Huh. I expected you to be wearing those little eyeballs things like the rest of them.”

“Fortunately, I don’t have to wear that,” Herah says, then looks over Shokrakar’s shoulder for the rest of the group.

Katoh is digging through a wagon, probably for her journal, and Taarlok is talking to an Inquisition scout with clear irritation, but there are plenty other friends left to greet. “I heard you have a poem for me,” Herah says as she approaches Kaariss, a bright smile on her face. (Behind her, she can hear Shokrakar mutter, “Shit, not the poem…”)

The qunari in front of her responds with a hug so tight she nearly feels her eyeballs bug out of her head. “I do,” he whispers. His voice is much softer than everyone else’s, as is the rest of him, and Herah melts into his comforting embrace anyway, despite how tightly she’s being squeezed. “I’ve perfected it, too, with help from everyone else. Especially Ashaad Two, though she’d never admit it.”

“Hey, leave some of her for the rest of us.”

Herah pulls away from Kaariss to see Sata-Kas approaching. He nearly takes up all of her vision as he comes to stand in front of her, all broad shoulders and pure muscle. He’s taller than her – taller than most Qunari, which is saying something – but she barely flinches. (She does flinch, but just a little.) “Good to see you,” he comments brusquely, nodding at her.

“You too,” Herah replies, beaming. “You look, uh, the same as always!”

Sata-Kas scowls. “That’s impossible,” he says, and she knows immediately that she said something wrong. (Somehow, Sata-Kas is easier to upset than Shokrakar.) “I’m eating much more than I used to. I should look much bigger!”

“Well, you…” Herah struggles for something to say. “You still look great, either way!”

He just scowls and stalks off, shaking his head and mumbling to himself. She’ll try and make up for it later – she can’t find it in herself to be upset when she’s still so pleased to see him. To see everyone.

Just as Kaariss places his hand on her arm to try and steal her attention again, someone clears their throat behind them. “You look like a human.” She turns around to see Ashaad Two striding forwards from between the wagons. She looks different – she looks a little more tired, but strong nevertheless. A fresh cut lines her jaw, which Herah can see since Ashaad Two’s hair is pulled back and braided into a hundred small braids, and there are a handful of bruises across her biceps and forearms that look like they’d hurt at the lightest touch, purpling under her grey skin. “Do you have to wear that?”

Herah frowns, though she doesn’t take the comment personally. That’s just Ashaad Two’s way. “I like it,” she responds, plucking at the fabric nevertheless.

“Me, too!” Kaariss replies, winding his arm around Herah’s waist and pulling her into his side. She rolls her eyes but can’t deny the reassurance it gives her anyway.

“You shouldn’t,” Ashaad Two replies. She’s silent for a moment before adding, “Good to see you again, Adaar.”

“Oh, Herah’s here already?”

Katoh looks up from the wagon she was rummaging through, the familiar leather-bound tome that serves as her journal clutched to her chest, and as her eyes meet Herah’s, they widen to the size of tree stumps. “Herah!” she exclaims, hurrying over and stopping at the last second, reeling back like she was afraid to be burned. “Can I – Can I give you a hug?”

Herah responds by giving her one first, and Katoh leans into her, sniffling. “I-I’m sorry,” she stammers, wrapping one arm around Herah’s waist, “I’m just a little overwhelmed –“

That’s not a surprise – Katoh’s always been like this. She could be overwhelmed in a locked room by herself that no one else had the key for, but they love her anyway. (Even if they’ve never said it out loud, everyone knows.) “That’s okay,” Herah says as she pulls back with a bashful smile. “I am too.”

And she is. It’s strange for her old family to be in the same place as… well, her new family, she supposes. Even with Solas missing, Herah still has plenty of friends here and, of course, Cole.

He’s disappeared from the courtyard, but that’s no surprise. She told him she didn’t want him to meet the group until later, when they’re all settled down in the Herald’s Rest (which they’ve reserved for the Valo-Kas and the Inquisitor tonight, because Maker knows they’ll need all the room in the tavern and probably more for all of them to fit inside comfortable). After they’ve had a few drinks, Herah will be comfortable enough to bring Cole out and introduce him to the rest of them, but… not until then.

She’ll need to have a drink first, too.

Eventually, after Taarlok finishes sorting out the storage situation with the Inquisition scout – since they brought a lot of wagons with them, and there’s not exactly much place to put them all – and finally joins the rest of the group, Herah leads them on a tour of Skyhold. She shows them the stables (which none of them like besides Kaariss, and Katoh is scared of the horses though she says they’re very majestic); the market (which both Ashaad Two and Shokrakar complain about, though Herah swears she sees Shokrakar admiring a few of the pretty dresses before glancing away with a scowl); the training ring, the blacksmithy, the garden, the Mage’s tower, and last but not least, the Throne Room, which is… much emptier than Herah’s ever seen it.

Her heart starts to ache at the sight of it, as it always does, but she forgets about it soon enough.

There’s a few hours until dinner, so she turns them loose – after promising them the Inquisition’s soldiers and scouts will behave as long as they do, because Sata-Kas still doesn’t like or trust humans – and she sits with Kaariss and Katoh in the Throne Room as they share a pot of tea. She’s probably closest to them, and she always has been – though they’re older than she is, their dispositions make them seem much younger, and they’ve always been able to have more fun together than they could with the rest of the group.

Well, the old group, with Hissra and Sataa and Meraad before they all died.

Before she has time to dwell on it, however, it’s time for them to travel down to the Herald’s Rest together, and as her and Kaariss and Katoh hurry down the stairs to the tavern, her anxieties start to return. There’s no putting off Cole’s introduction to the group any longer, and she still doesn’t have any idea how it’s going to go. Are they going to hate him for being a spirit, for where he comes from? Are they going to turn him away, and would they turn her away because of that?

She doesn’t know what she’d do she’d do if they did. She doesn’t know when or if she’ll be able to travel with them again – being the Inquisitor is still a demanding role, after all, even with Corypheus defeated – but she wants to be able to join them again one day, if only for a little while.

For now, though, she forces herself to stop questioning it and stop worrying so much. She should really stop doing that so often.

The Iron Bull, Dorian, and Varric are lounging upstairs – Herah gave them special permission to be here tonight if they wanted to, though they don’t seem to have any intention of coming downstairs to introduce themselves. After passing out drinks and messily put-together plates of dinner including three chicken legs and more nug meat than anyone besides a group of battle-hardened Qunari could handle, the Valo-Kas mercenary group digs into their meal, not even stopping to wipe their mouths on the back of their hands as they barrage Herah with questions. Questions about the Inner Circle, about the Winter Palace, about the Arbor Wilds, the Exalted Plains, the Western Approach, and just about everything in between.

And she expected questions – after all, there’s are things she hadn’t been allowed to write about in her letters to the mercenaries while the Inquisition was still dealing with Corypheus because there was no telling who would be able to intercept the messages and how much of their operation it would reveal. Now, though, with Corypheus dead and gone, there’s no risk.

Well, there’s a small risk, but she trusts the Valo-Kas. If she can’t trust them, then who can she trust?

“I can’t believe you went into the Fade!” Katoh comments. She looks scared – on closer inspection, Herah notices that she’s shaking. “Like… Physically, I mean! No one’s ever done that before – I’m sure no one even thought it was possible.”

“Yes, we’re… supposedly the first,” Herah answers, pressing her lips together as everyone else watches on to see her reaction, all of them tuned in with morbid curiosity. “And it was certainly a lot.”

“How did you do it?” Katoh asks next. She has a piece of charcoal in her fingers, prepared to write Herah’s answers down in her journal.

“She probably doesn’t want to answer that,” Shokrakar cuts in. “I know I wouldn’t.”

Herah’s seen the Fade many times before in dreams, where she relishes in history while playful spirits flit around her and cling to her like moths to a flame. She’s also overslept perhaps far too many times while lingering just beneath the Veil and exploring what she can within the boundaries of her physical body. Still, it was different to be there with her physical body; it was different to see all of the macabre magic in person with her own waking eyes. It was terrifying, especially with Cole. She’d seen him that distressed only a few times before, and almost too many times since, and it’s always hard. It’s worse than even her most horrific nightmares.

“And then you kept the Wardens around.” Sato-Kas shakes his head, downing his tankard of mead and slamming it onto the table. She’s not surprised at his reaction – he’s never liked humans, although after what happened with the fanatics he probably likes them a lot less. “How do you know you can trust them?”

Herah purses her lips anyways. She believes in her heart that the Wardens are doing the right thing. “They’re trying to make up for their mistakes,” she says.

“Humans can never make up for their mistakes!” Sato-Kas exclaims.

“Enough,” Shokrakar interrupts again, holding a hand up to stop him. “I trust Herah.”

Herah smiles.

“Besides the fanatics, and the nobles, and the… Orlesians –“ A collective shudder runs through the group – “some humans are alright. From her lot, at least.” Then Shokrakar turns to Herah, pointing at her with a stiff finger. “But if we run into some Wardens, and they try to use me as a sacrifice –“

“They won’t!” Herah assures her. “They won’t, I promise.”

“Good.” Shokrakar leans back in her chair and takes a long drink, her watchful eyes still trained on Herah.

“Well, keep going,” Kaariss asks, and he leans forward across the table with his eyes alight. (She swears she can see his journal open in his lap, a piece of charcoal in between his fingers. Probably looking for inspiration for his next poem.) “What happened next?”

A lot happened next. They marched to the Arbor Wilds with the Inquisition soldiers, met ancient Elvhen sentinels, killed Samson, travelled to Skyhold through an Eluvian, fought a dragon, defeated Corypheus, and then Solas left… And of course, everything that happened with Cole…

Herah glances around at the group and wrings her hands, biting her lip hard. Now is as good a time as any, she thinks – she can’t put it off any longer. Either they’ll accept him or he won’t. No amount of exciting stories or good food or drinks will change that.

She clears her throat, and everyone watches her expectantly.

“Actually,” she says, “I have something else to tell you.”

Taarlok leans forward. “What is it?” he asks.

“I met someone,” she begins, curling her hands into fists until her nails dig into her palms. “And I’d like you to meet him. Because you’re my family, and… he’s my family, too. And it’s important to me that you get to know him.”

“Is it the big guy upstairs?” Saro-Kas says. “Because I was going to ask him if he wanted to join us –“

“It isn’t!” Herah hurries to say, her face burning red. “No, it isn’t, it’s… Well…”

She pushes her chair away from the table and turns to the staircase, but Cole is already sitting on a chair in the corner. She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting there, and she’s surprised, for a moment, and then her shoulders relax. She can’t help but relax around him.

He gives her a small, imperceptible nod – a little motivation - and she smiles.

“It’s, uh, him,” she says, turning back to the Valo-Kas and gesturing towards him. “His name is Cole, and he’s a… spirit. And I love him.”

Everyone turns to Cole. He blanches slightly under the sudden attention – which is saying something, because he’s always pale – and then, in a flash, the entire Valo-Kas mercenary group is on him.

They circle the chair he’s sitting on like vultures, occasionally leaning in to get a better look at him and, every once in a while, prodding at him like he’s somewhat of a caged animal. They seem mostly curious, not confused or concerned or disgusted like perhaps she had worried (although she sees Sala-Kas trying to gauge how human he is, which would make her laugh if she wasn’t still so nervous). Cole’s eyes are widened, but not in fear – the feelings of the group are probably overwhelming for him, considering how many of them there are and how close they’re crowded around him. Herah tries to listen on the questions they ask him – she also tries to push through to get to the middle of the group, only to be pushed away - but she can’t hear much when they’re all speaking over each other besides a handful of stray words.

“Why is he so skinny?”

“He’s a spirit? Why does he look like a person?”

“Is he good in a fight?”

“Where did you find this one?”

“Can someone tell me why he’s so skinny?”

“Does he like poetry?”

Eventually, Herah meets Shokrakar’s eyes and mouths ‘please?’

“Enough!” Shokrakar calls, and everyone backs away. “Leave the tiny one alone. I think Herah has something to say.”

Herah pushes through the throng to stand in front of Cole protectively. Not that she thinks they’d harm him, but… she wants to protect him from everything. No one understands him as well as she does. She smiles as he takes her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“This is Cole,” she says. “Cole… everyone.”

“Everyone,” he repeats, eyes flitting to each of them in turn. “Hurt, harmed, but happy here together; happy to be reunited and returned to one of their own. Things are right.”

They continue to stare at him.

“He’s a spirit?” Katoh leans towards Herah as she asks the question but doesn’t look at her, instead eyeing Cole through squinted eyes.

“Yes,” Herah says. “Of compassion. He likes to help people.” She feels a small swell of pride – she truly believes she couldn’t have picked a better person – or spirit – to be with. Cole’s as kind-hearted and as good as they come.

“How long have you been… together?” Shokrakar asks, apparently trying to deem whether or not he can be trusted.

“A while,” Herah admits. “We kept our affections for each other secret for months, which was one of the most difficult things I’ve had to do, to be honest.”

Cole squeezes her hand again.

“How does he feel?” Sata-Kas asks, nodding to Cole who seems a little shell-shocked but somewhat excited by all the sudden attention. “Does he like you, too?”

“Yes,” Cole answers, his smile brightening. “I do.”

Sata-Kas watches on a moment longer before shrugging.

“He and I found comfort in each other,” Herah says. “Things have been hard, here, and… it’s been good having someone by my side.”

“Is he good in a fight?” Shokrakar’s voice breaks through the silence.

“He is. He’s one of the best. And he can help people…” Her gaze lingers on a few of the members of the group, though she doesn’t call them out by name. “Which is easier when they wanted to be helped. I learned that the hard way. He can be overwhelmed very easily, though,” she explains then, turning to the rest of the group. “And we’re taking things slow, so… maybe no more questions tonight, okay?”

“But tomorrow?” Ashaad Two asks, arms crossed over her chest while she frowns at him. Though she doesn’t seem as receptive to him as Herah hoped she would be, she still seems accepting enough after listening to his answers to everyone else’s questions. Enough for tonight, at least.

“Tomorrow,” Herah agrees, turning to Cole and smiling. “But he’ll join us for the rest of dinner, so you can talk to him then.”

“Dinner?” Kaariss grins mischievously and shakes his head. “Dinner’s finished, Herah! I think it’s time for something else.”

Shokrakar groans and smooths a hand over her face. “Not another poem,” she says.

“No, not another – hey!” Quieter, he adds, “you don’t like my poem?”

“Kaariss,” Herah asks with a slightly raised eyebrow, “what is it?”

He quickly recovers from Shokrakar’s statement, shaking his head and turning to Herah again. “I think it’s time for a dance,” he says.

Surprisingly, everyone agrees to this. (It might just be the ale and the mead, but even Salo-Kas joins in after a while.) After requesting a few songs from the bard that she didn’t seem to know and instead giving up and deciding to settle on good old-fashioned Ferelden dance music, the entire group is up on their feet and dancing the alcohol. Taarlok and Katoh sway awkwardly on one side of the room and exchanged quiet conversation; Shokrakar shifts her weight from one foot to the other and nods appreciatively; Ashaad and Sata-Kas compete in what seems to be a competitive foot tapping game. Everyone dances together, smiling and laughing and swearing – a lot - and, for the first time in a long time, everyone feels truly at peace.

At least that’s what Cole says in Herah’s ear as she collapses into a chair beside him after an hour of dancing and tilts her head against his as he leans against her shoulder.

“They’re not the only ones,” she says softly, and he just smiles even wider.

The sun is starting to rise when everyone stumbles to their quarters – they’re staying in the guest rooms, where a couple of bedrolls and cots have been set up in each so the team can sleep together. Herah and Cole accompany the Valo-Kas and wish them good night – or, rather, good morning – and Herah submits them all to another round of warm, relieved hugs before she and Cole return hand-in-hand to her own quarters, where there’s an even better view of the sunrise.

Cole stands out on the balcony, watching it while she changes into a nightgown, and joins her in bed once she’s settled down.

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

He leans against the headboard and nods. “Fine,” he says. He’s still not used to her asking about his feelings, but they’re working on it.

“I know it’s a lot, but they’re…”

“Your’s,” he finishes. “Family, found, familiar. They will always want you, wait for you, wait for you to return to them.”

“They thought that?”

He nods. “Yes.”

“That’s good,” she replies, smiling to herself. “That’s… that’s nice.”

It is nice. It’s nice to know that they haven’t changed, even if she has. They’re the same people they’ve always been; the same people she considers to be her family. And it’s nice to know they don’t see her any differently than they used to, because she’s just… her. And they’re hers the same way she’s theirs. And Cole’s.

“You need rest,” he suggests. “Tired, taut from worry, tight enough you thought you would snap and spiral.”

“I’m not worried,” she says, shifting onto her side so she can see him better.

He smiles. “Not anymore,” he agrees, “but still tired.”

She sighs. “I suppose you’re right,” she replies, admiring the soft contours of his face in the light. “Thank you for tonight, Cole. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he hums.

“Perhaps sometime soon we can visit my hometown,” she suggests as Cole slips beneath the covers and flips onto his side so he can face her. “You could meet my parents, see where I grew up.” And then she swallows – she hadn’t thought about it, but Cole might have plans of his own he hasn’t yet shared with her. “Unless –“

“No,” he says. He must’ve sensed her hesitation. “That would be nice.”

Herah grins. “Good.” She leans forward and kisses his forehead, her lips feather-light against his skin. “I wasn’t sure if I was ready for tonight, but…”

When she rests her head against the pillow once more, she reaches up to touch his cheek and tucks a stray strand of hair behind his ear. It’s getting long. Maybe she should cut it, or maybe he should grow it out. He’d look good with longer hair, she thinks, though she would love him no matter what he looks like. And she knows he feels the same way about her.

“I think, with you and the Valo-kas…” She smiles. “I’m ready for anything.”

#my writing #my commissions #i love them. they are so cute. and i love cole sm.#thank you again for the commission ah <3 this was such a pleasure to write !!!

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heartslogos · 4 years

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newfragile yellows [723]

They’d managed to evade the Emerald Knights and the Wolf’s Acolytes for almost six months, just a bare two weeks from the border, before they were caught. And now, locked in this prison transport, dark except for the barest sliver of light from the narrow slat on the back, they’re probably only a handful of hours before they reach the capitol and their execution.

Kaaras’ shoulder wound, a slice from a halberd that must have had some sort of magic in it, has taken to infection. He spends most of his time in a fevered sleep, barely stirring to drink. Stitches has done the best he can with it but the transport back to the capitol of the Dales is rough, and while their captors aren’t actively being cruel, they aren’t sparing any kindness either.

“Bull,” Herah says between cracked lips, the bruising around her temple has finally started to recede. “Is there a plan?”

Bull’s head pounds, his mouth is so dry and his teeth feel like they’ve grown actual fucking fuzz on them.

The Qun won’t be able to help him here. He’s pretty sure that any other spies the Qun sent to observe the Dales are either in the same position as him or are in the process of being caught with every second that moves by. That or whatever agents the Qun has left here might have orders that anyone else caught is a complete loss and to just survive.

They’re on their own.

Bull has a hand on Skinner’s neck, keeping her steady even as she sways with dizziness. Whatever poison they’d gotten her with in the initial skirmish faded weeks ago, but it’s left her weakened and easily sick. Her hands clench as she holds herself small and tight. Her skin is hot and damp on Bull’s. She’s losing too much water.

She’s been losing too much water. Even with him giving her his.

“Go down swinging,” Bull rasps out. He feels every scar and bruise and break in him coming to the surface and reminding him of how many years he shouldn’t have had. He should have died in Seheron when he was young, when he could handle the hurt, when his heart wasn’t so bruised. “I’m sorry, Adaar.”

Herah curses at him. And then Shokrakar. And then at the Wolf. And then at the Lavellans and the Dales. And then at herself.

“Not nearly as sorry as I am,” Herah replies, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes as she hunches forward. “I can’t believe that I’m sitting here thinking Shokrakar was lucky. Arrow to the throat and that’s lucky.”

“Executions in the Dales aren’t known for being overly cruel or drawn out like in Orlais, at least. They aren’t even public,” Sata-Kas says, eyes closed and leaning against Ashaad. “Let’s just hope for a good executioner and one swing of the axe.”

Eventually the wheels of the transport move from trodden ground to cobblestone and wooden slats. They’re in the capitol proper now. Bull can hear the faint sounds of people. But it’s strange.

“Why is it so quiet?” Kaariss asks, glancing towards Krem who’s closest to the slat at the back of the transport. “Aclassi, can you see?”

Krem gets up, half standing on the wooden bench built into the transport’s wall. Dalish and Katoh move to hold him steady as he cautiously brings his face to the bars.

“I can’t see a lot,” Krem says. “But we’re definitely in a city. Flames. There’s guards everywhere. And wolves.”

“What else? Where are we? Market?” Herah asks.

“There’s people out, but they’re in an awful hurry,” Krem says. “And there aren’t a lot of them. I think I’ve only seen four plainclothes and they were all turned away.”

“Switch with me,” Bull says, slowly letting Skinner go, back painfully bent as he stoops to slowly move in the cramped space to stand by the window slat as Krem squeezes past him to sit with Skinner.

They’re on a main road. Bull’s been to the Dalish capitol before. He knows this road. It’s just not recognizable without the dozens of colored tents and stalls with their bounties of fruit and flowers. He only recognizes it because he remembers the buildings. The buildings, without the accompaniment of banners hanging from their windows and brilliant jewel toned shades and tents look pale and wan.

Krem’s right. Every few seconds armed elves — he can’t tell if they’re all Emerald Knights, from this far away and with his limited field of vision he can’t see what insignia their plates are stamped with — are posted. Leaning against walls, walking down the street, crossing the street, riding astride their harts, or leading great dire wolves that are up to their waists and chests at the shoulders.

This doesn’t look like the bustling, colorful capitol city he remembers, the fabled Garden of the South. This place looks like a military barracks.

Bull retreats from the window, unease curdling in his gut.

The light eventually fades from the window, and from the angle of the cart, they’re going underground. The air is noticeably colder. Sound echoes louder.

The cart comes to a stop and the back door swings open to reveal Wolf Acolytes, weapons drawn and a small contingent of Emerald knights that reach into the cart to bring them down firmly, but not brutally at the very least.

Bull’s muscles ache as he stands to his full height after so long hunched over. He turns to watch them drag Kaaras out. One at each arm, one at each leg. The young man doesn’t stir. His face is gaunt and pale.

“Hold.”

Everyone turns to the voice. A man in warm, almost copper looking in the torchlight metal armor stands with two fellows flanking him in the same armor on either side.

“Orders from the Princess,” the man says, “These shemlen are to be transferred to her Highness’ prisons. We will take over from here.”

The Emerald Knights hesitate. Bull watches them all turn towards the Wolf Acolytes. There is something wrong here. There is something that doesn’t feel right.

The Wolf’s Acolytes consider the man in front of them.

“Guardian Abelas,” the acolyte says, “All heretics caught are to be brought to the capitol to be killed, their heads strung to be made example.”

“By orders from our Princess,” Abelas repeats, voice soft, “ Keeper of the Sun and Cup-Bearer of the Moon, the Deliverer of Earth-Song and defender of the Faith, Speaker of the Mirror, Seer into the Beyond, most beloved and first-favored-daughter of the Wolf, Fen’enaste, they are to be commended into her care. Do you doubt? Do you question her mind? Shall we bring your questions before the Wolf, himself, so he might judge? In your favor, or hers?”

The acolyte looks away, and all of them step back and away.

Abelas turns to address the Emerald Knights. “Put them back onto the transport. Route them towards our Highness’ dungeon cells. I will inform her Highness of their arrival.”

#heartsfic #gather your party and venture forth

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daobssesed · 5 years

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Nombres Qunari

Esta es una compilación de nombres Qunari y Tal Vashoth.

QUNARI En el Qun, los nombres de los nacimientos se mantienen en secreto por las Tamassran, y no son más que una serie de números (que indican las circunstancias del nacimiento, el linaje, etc). Por lo tanto, las personas son llamadas por su papel en la sociedad. Por ejemplo, si estás en el ejército, tu nombre es tu rango. Como tal, una persona puede pasar por varios nombres en su vida, si sus roles cambian.

Hay que tener en cuenta que las mujeres no son parte del Antaam (militar) porque los Qunari creen que las mujeres no deberían pelear. (Sin embargo, un hombre que alguna vez fue llamado mujer es tratado como cualquier otro hombre y puede hacerlo). Además, los saarebas no se consideran nada más que armas, no personas con género, y los Antaam los usan como tales. En el mismo sentido, hay algunos roles que son estrictamente para las mujeres, como el Arigena.

La lista a continuación, por lo tanto, tendrá marcadores diferenciales de género (M)asculino, (F)emenino, (N)eutral.

Títulos conocidos usados como nombres en el Qun

Arigena - Jefa de industria y agricultura, parte del Salasari (Triunvirato) (F)

Ariqun - Cabeza del sacerdocio, parte del Salasari (Triunvirato) (N)

Arishok - Jefe de militares, parte del Salasari (Triunvirato) (M)

Arvaarad - Controlador/Manejador de Saarebas, parte del Antaam (literalmente "alguien que frena el mal") (M)

Ashaad - Scout, parte del Antaam (M)

Ashkaari - Científico / filósofo (literalmente "alguien que busca") (N)

Athlok - Trabajador menor (N)

Besrathari - Entrenador y reclutador para el Ben-Hassrath (N)

Hissrad - Espía, parte del Ben-Hassrath (literalmente “mentiroso/a”) (N)

Rasaan - Emisario, representante de Ariqun y sucesor elegido (N)

Karasaad - Soldado de infantería, rango medio, parte del Antaam (M)

Karashok - Privado, parte del Antaam (M)

Karasten - Corporal, parte del Antaam (M)

Kathaban - Almirante naval, parte del Antaam (M)

Kithshok - Líder militar, parte de Antaam (M)

Saarebas - Mago, parte del Antaam (literalmente "cosa peligrosa") (N)

Sten - Comandante de pelotón de infantería, parte de Antaam (M)

Tallis - Asesino, parte de Ben-Hassrath (N)

Taarbas - Apoyo administrativo (?) (Aun no es seguro el significado) (N)

Tamassran - Sacerdotisa con una variedad de deberes, que incluyen criar y educar a los niños, controlar el nacimiento de los niños, evaluación de roles y asesoramiento psicosocial (literalmente "los que hablan") (F)

Vasaad - Soldado de rango desconocido, parte de Antaam (M)

Vidathiss - Re-educador, parte del Ben Hassrath (N)

Viddasala - Jefe de conversión / reeducación y detención de amenazas mágicas, parte de Ben-Hassrath (literalmente "alguien que convierte el propósito") (N)

Viddathari - Alguien nuevo convertido al Qun (N)

TAL VASHOTH / VASHOTH Debido a que los Tal Vashoth y Vashtoh han rechazado la sociedad que dejaron, no suelen acatar las convenciones de nombres de los Qun. Aunque algunos Tal Vashoth continúan usando el título que alguna vez fueron conocidos, la mayoría elige un nuevo nombre, a menudo una palabra Qunlat. (Hay casos como Iron Bull que también se vuelven un poco más creativos que eso).

Palabras Qunlat usadas como nombres.

Aban - El mar

Anaan - Victoria

Aqun - Balance; invariable

Asaara - Viento

Asaaranda - Tormenta

Asala - Alma

Ashkaari - “Aquel Que Piensa”

Ataas - Glorioso

Ataash - Gloria

Ataashi - Dragon (literalmente “el glorioso”)

Beres-taar - Escudo

Dathras - Ganado

Gaatlok - Polvo explosivo

Herah - Tiempo

Hissera - Esperanza

Hissra - Ilusión

Issala - Polvo

Kaaras - Navegante

Kadan - Persona muy valorada (literalmente "dónde está el corazón") (Usualmente se usa para referirte a la persona a la que amas)

Kara - Infantería

Kas - Hacha; espada

Kata - El Fin; muerte

Katoh - Final; alcanzar un objetivo

Kost - Paz

Maraas - Nada

Meraad - Marea

Reth - Protección

Saar - Peligroso

Salit - Respeto

Sataa - El mundo

Sataareth - Defensor; ejecutor (literalmente "lo que sostiene")

Shok - Guerra; batalla

Shokrakar - Rebelde

Taam - Batalla

Taam-kas - Hacha de guerra

Tal - Verdad

Tic - Helado; hielo

Valo - Gande

Vat - Fuego

Fuente: {Qunari and Tal Vashoth Names}

#qunari culture #info

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panthegenderfreak · 7 years

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Am I the only one who ships my Adaar with another of the Valo-Kas mercenaries?

#i ship them #herah x katoh #but in a really weird way #like #almost #queerplatonic #maybe #idk #katoh #herah adaar #valo-kas mercenaries #valo-kas

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heartslogos · 6 years

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send the morning [98]

“What do you remember about your mother, Kaaras?” Herah asks.

Kaaras closes his hands into fists and opens them again slowly.

“She was hesitant,” Kaaras answers. He loved his mother. He loved his father. He loved them very much. But he knows that they had flaws. He knows that there were times when he felt envious of the humans and their soft mothers and kind fathers.

His parents were kind. But definitions of words change from culture to culture, city to city, people to people. Kaaras’ parents were kind and brave and devoted and entirely in love with each other. And they loved him as best as they could, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they were the best parents.

Kaaras squeezes his hands together and closes his eyes and conjures the image of his mother in his head: her long braided white hair, the sharp points of her pierced ears, her cracked and broken left horn, her broad palms, the shape of her fingernails.

When she would touch him it was always too lightly. Like she didn’t know how to touch him at all, as though she did not know if she could use any pressure or strength.

He remembers he always tried to squeeze her, press against her, harder, anything to get more than the gentle, barely there brushes of her hand on his head or on his shoulder or over his back. But she would always pull away just enough that the touch never deepened.

His father wasn’t like that, his father was rough and firm and solid and steady. When Kaaras’ father held him or brushed his head it was very nice. Like a warm blanket of stone.

But his mother was hesitant and that made her feel very far away sometimes even though she wasn’t. She was always there for him. Always.

“And she loved me. She didn’t want me to go,” Kaaras says.

“It’s been three years, Kaaras,” Herah says. “Your father misses you. He hasn’t seen you since we buried your mother. He waits by the tree, still.”

“I write.”

“He wants to see you, Kaaras,” Herah touches his shoulder. “He’s heard about all the things we’ve done and you know how stories weave themselves. He is afraid for you.”

“I write, all the time,” Kaaras hunches his shoulders.

“And you like to lie about how you’re doing,” Herah chides, “He asks about you every time, looks for you over my shoulder like you’re lagging behind.”

“I can’t go,” Kaaras says, “She’s not there anymore. And I - I don’t know. I know I’m the one who wanted her buried and everything but. But just seeing it. Seeing our house without her, seeing all of the places she used to be but isn’t - I can’t. I just miss her and it hurts and I don’t know how Father can stand it.”

Herah is quiet as she brushes his hair.

“She isn’t there anymore, that’s how he can handle it. For us we know she isn’t there. She’s been gone since she died.”

Kaaras feels his throat threaten to close and presses his lips together.

“But that’s why he looks for you, waits for you, Kaaras,” Herah continues. “You are where your mother is for him. For him he can’t find her at her grave or around the house and farm. He finds her in you. The both of them left the Qun to have you, to keep you. In you they see each other and something greater than each other. Go to your father, Kaaras. You are what is left of your mother for him. A reminder of what he left behind and what he did it for.”

It is not, usually, the Iron Bull’s business to look after animals. It has been, on the rare occasion, his business to escort a particularly exotic animal to its new owner, or to capture one, but it is usually to kill them. Containing and taming an animal without hurting it is new.

But this is not an animal.

And then again -

There is nothing of the woman he calls kadan in this bas.

The bear is large and dirty and wild and furious. She scratches and gouges the stone and the other prisoners kept below Skyhold, for once, look appropriate afraid of the situation they are in. Evelyn had the cells on either side of Ellana cleared out until they could find better place to put her, but even the cells farther away from her look nervous.

Bull does not blame them. The sounds and tremors of her hitting stone feel like earthquakes. They’ve had mages taking shifts with magic to hold the bars and heal any serious injuries from afar.

And also, to keep Mahanon away.

“He will die before she does if he doesn’t take care of himself first,” Stitches had said, “I don’t think he’s slept or eaten in days. If he has it isn’t enough.”

Bull nods at the guards posted at the cell and he pulls out the key Evelyn had put into his palm and the bear’s eyes are dim glitters in the shadows. He can hear the heavy sounds of her panting, almost smell the foam around her muzzle.

His back aches from scratches and bites Dalish and Kaaras healed over, vanished.

“Ellana,” Bull says, ducking to step into the cell as the guards quickly close it behind him, waiting to open it again. “Ellana. Calm. Taashath.”

The bear growls, black lips peeled back over jagged teeth as she claws at the ground.

He holds his hands up, lowering into a ready stance to take her if she charges and carefully takes one careful inch at a time forward.

“Ellana,” He repeats. “Taashath, Kadan.”

“She will not know you,” Mahanon had said in between bouts of manic scrambling and near catatonic weariness. “You can tell her the most intimate of moments shared between you and she would not know you. Bare your throat and she would take it, as any other animal would. It takes her. The transformation. It takes her and it removes so much and she has to find them all piece by terrible piece. And the longer she stays that way the farther into darkness she loses each of those pieces.”

“Is it always like that?” Evelyn asked.

“With Bear, yes,” Mahanon answered, “For the other shapes? No. But once she starts the call remains. I do not understand it. And if there were ever words for it, Ellana had long lost them by the time I had managed to bring her back to tell them.”

“Taashath,” He repeats, because even though it is not her word it was one she liked very much.

“The word in trade sounds strange to its meaning. Calm,” Ellana once told him, very early on in their - their knowing of each other. She had told him this, long ago back in Haven, as they walked underneath the Breach and stars one night. “It somehow seems too short a word for the concept, too small. Taashath. I like that better. It seems softer, it seems more appropriate. Like a sigh of relief.”

She closed her eyes and smiled.

“Taashath,” She repeated. “Taashath.”

He says it now, “Taasthath.”

The bear that Ellana has become does not respond to the word, but it makes Bull feel like he’s doing something at least.

The bear snarls and raises up on her thick hind legs, head almost brushing against the stone ceiling and roars.

Bull stands his ground, but he skids back a little when she collides into him and sinks her teeth into his shoulder. He puts his arms around her and tries to grapple her off, tries to do something. Anything. He does not know why they expect him to reach her when Mahanon cannot.

He has nothing to give her.

“Taasthath, Kadan,” He says, the pain of teeth pulling and tearing at his skin and creaking into bone makes his vision blur. “It’s over. You’re done. You did what you had to. It’s over. Katoh.”

There is a moment when the jaws of the bear ease up, almost release and the pressure on him eases, and then magic pushes her away and Bull is being dragged out by two Inquisition soldiers, one of them already jamming a healing potion into his hand.

The bear roars again, furious, and the magic releases just as they’re past the bars and she runs straight into the bars and barrier. One long claw and arm reach through, almost snagging an Inquisition scout’s tunic as she snarls and rattles the metal.

He leans on the scouts as they help out out, just as Dorian and Evelyn are coming down for their turn.

He shrugs his uninjured shoulder at them as they make room for him to pass.

He does not know what anyone expects.

Too much, he thinks. Too much.

#heartsfic #gather your party and venture forth

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