Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ellena Lavellan is curious.

She appears softhearted and unassuming. Hair so dark it bronzes in the sun, downturned eyebrows, voice mellow yet defiant. She’s from a nameless clan in the middle of the Dales where her people are outnumbered by Halla and shemlens.

They had first met on the Storm Coast. She was bright-eyed with flushed cheeks, either from the sting of chilled rain or exhaustion from the fight. Her cloth robes were soaked, and she trembled from the chill in her bones. A poor nobody turned martyr; the chosen one who could save the world from a devastating demon invasion. A predictable story that, in his opinion, couldn’t compare to trapping giants or chasing down dragons. Tragic. Boring.

Iron Bull felt the thrum of magic radiating from her hand when she approached. He saw a flicker of something lurking beneath the small-elf façade, a lick of fire in her brown eyes. Her gaze lingered on his horns and the scars woven deep into his skin. A halla curious of the dragon’s scaly hide. He read her easily and offered a drink and his services. Her riding boots dug into the gravel, rain dripping from her bangs, and she accepted - willing and optimistic.

So, one afternoon, he tested his theory. He had done what any naturally good spy would do and caught her off guard. Iron Bull had waited for Ellana to dismiss herself for a bath in the hot springs. And, what a sight: her skin red, sweat beading on her upper lip. She jerked in his direction when her ears picked up his movement.

“Oh!” she mustered, visibly embarrassed.

Iron Bull wanted to know how she’d react. He’d seen her fight, with nimble fingers conjuring spells that broke skin and ripped flesh. He’d watched her bash a man’s skull clean open with the heel of her staff. A halla with fire for fingertips, cornered and vulnerable. How would she approach the dragon? Instead, she had asked, “Are you here to bathe, too,” which was unexpected. And then she had swirled her hand in the water, fully turning to face him, and said, “You can join me, if you desire.”

There it was - true colors under her skin. He had refused to acknowledge the thrill of her, but temptation was sinful. She was… interesting. Yet, Iron Bull had bluntly replied, “No,” and stood long enough to watch the hurt on her face before finishing, “not here, where everyone can see us.”

Ellana, the sweet halla, grinned.

❧❦

After closing the breach, Haven was burnt to the ground. The chaos claimed fifteen lives. Three scouts were crushed to death, two mages had been burned alive, six soldiers were mauled by the Templars, and four civilians, a family, died trapped in their home. Haven would have continued burning for weeks if Ellana hadn’t buried it beneath the snow and ice.

The dragon was the unexpected factor, roaring down the mountain where the entirety of Haven sat; all of them unaware until it was too late. Iron Bull had wondered about the initial battle. Would they have salvaged Haven if the dragon wasn’t there? Would the trebuchets have succeeded in keeping the invading Templars at bay? After all, they had been at the last trebuchet when the dragon entered the battle. The flames engulfed them and licked at his face. He remembers the light, the intense heat, Ellana yelling desperately, and the color of red deep as blood and as hot as the sun.

Iron Bull does not fully remember escaping out of Haven. He remembers the bitter cold and choking smoke as they scaled the mountain, watching utterly helpless as Cullen flashed the signal. His heart had dropped, the roar of the avalanche was astounding. Afterwards, he sat by a fire and did the only thing he could - he watched. He took note of everyone’s reaction to pain and grief. The advisors argued and survivors wept.

It had been hours since they reached the valley atop the mountain, and Ellana had not made it back, and, to make things worse, they were stuck with the odd boy from the gates. His gaze gave Iron Bull the chills. Vivienne scowls from her place in the tent, picking delicately at the dirt and ash under nails. Demon. she whispers. No good. What were they going to do now that the Herald was dead and they had a demon sitting placid amongst their ranks? Cassandra suggests the Seekers, Leliana urges to keep pursuing the mages, Josephine picks at the stitching of her skirt, and Cullen waits at the mouth of the split mountains. The tension is palpable, the grief overwhelming. So, he does what he does best. Iron Bull had begun packing his things and preparing the trek back with his chargers. He no longer had purpose here. He approaches Krem when - “There, it’s her! Ellana!”

Iron Bull blindly followed after the voices, but he did not push his way forward. It was possible it was fear that kept him in the back of the crowd. But, there she was, on her knees covered in ash and snow. The cloth of her robes are frosted, and her breast plate is dented, singed with magical power. While he watches them nurse her back to health, she smiles with blood stained teeth. As they wipe away the ash and blood off her face, Cole whispers from the corner, “Copper lips. Pounding pulse. Raw rage, but she hurts. Will you write a hymn for me when I die? ”

A precursor for the pain that would come in the morning. Iron Bull could see through the gash on her thigh, straight to the fat and muscle and despair. The back of his throat was tight. He had only felt such powerful rage and relief once before.

Chapter Text

Ellana is a fantastic mage, but the power in her veins drains her. Late at night in the food hall, Iron Bull overhears Solas telling her the extent of the damage done to her body. Strands of her hair are turning bright white and her left eye quietly pulses green when she activates the mark. Her veins on the anchored side of her body are turning greener by the day. The reclaimed power inside her is killing her, sapping her life force. A poison. For every rift she closes, a sliver of her soul dissipates, but she takes it as her duty with pride. 

Unfortunately for Iron Bull, and Sera, she does not have to fight these demons alone.

“Really?” He presses Sera. “That’s what off limits?”

Sera doesn’t even look up at him. He can see the goosebumps raised on her arm. She keeps her hands busy with her bowstring. “No, it’s just simple. Demons and rubbish. Simple.”

Cassandra gives him a warning look. Leave it. Iron Bull finds Cassandra to be extremely intriguing. A woman made of steel whose insides are soft and hopelessly romantic. He briefly wonders what she looks like under her armor before turning to Ellana. “I could do without all the demons, Boss. Any time you want to leave is fine by me.”

Ellana twirls her staff between her hands as she surveys the shambling dead ahead. Her robes are a wilted blue under the hot sun of Exalted Plains; they’re holed up in Fort Revasan, waiting for word on the planned assault to retake Citadelle du Corbeau.

“I’ll protect you,” she says, turning to face them. The magic in her mark pulses under her skin. “I’ll protect you both.”

Iron Bull realizes he has her loyalty.

Before the explosion and magical hand, Ellana was in line to be the First. She tells Iron Bull of how she failed her first attempt at receiving her vallaslin. Eighteen years-old and ego bruised. She does not sound sad when she says this to him - in fact, she says, there’s no longer any shame in it. Her second trial was delayed because of a bandit attack in which their hearthmistress, the Keeper's sister, was killed. Her third and final was supposed to be after she proved herself in the Conclave. If she failed this again, the Second would take her place and she would be removed from any responsibility. She’s twenty-six years old and barefaced, not even an adult yet to her clan, but here she is, taking on the world and a demon army. He wants to scold her for being too trusting, warn her to leave him alone.

“You’re a natural at this,” is what he says back to her, instead. “Your clan must be proud.”

There is a brief moment of silence. A gust of wind kicks up dirt and swirls ahead. “What did you do before the Chargers?”

“The Qunari offers no freedom,” he responds blandly. “I already had a set path. They sent me to Saharan to fight and gather information.”

Her eyes trail after a shade in the distance. “That sounds important. You must have been proud.”

Iron Bull pulls the cork from a bottle of wine and takes a sip. It’s almost boiled from the heat. He thinks carefully. “Yeah, I was.”

Sera scrambles up the rafters and quickly says, “I’ll be a videe… vivi… one of those things you are Bull, yeah. Bloody good one, too.”

Iron Bull cracks a wry smile. “Uh, no. You ask too many questions.”

She bristles and points a finger at Cassandra. “You’re smirking again. Like in that fight before. What’s so funny?”

Cassandra smiles sweetly in her direction. “The simplest spell had you white as a sheet. You could not handle the Qun.”

Sera pouts, and Ellana laughs a sound so incandescent it sparks something terrifying in Iron Bull.

❧❦

Growing up, Ashkaari did not know what it meant to own something. The name is rough in his throat, the letters thick and bitter. He knew how to care for others the way the Tamassrans wanted him to, but he thought too much, so he was passed on to the Ben-Hassrath. There, he became Hissrad. In the brutal years that passed, he ruthlessly climbed his way to the top as his superiors were either slashed down or suspended. He fought Tal-Vashoth and native rebels for a decade, strategically avoided famine and disease, and survived several poison attacks. That same goddamn poison was used to carelessly kill a school full of children. This, arguably, was Hissrad’s final breaking point.

The siege he led against the Tal-Vashoth was the first time he had ever lost control of his mind and body. He had let the rage and grief consume him - go absolutely berserk. He does not remember much, but he does recall the sounds of flesh splitting and bones snapping. The gurgle of blood stuck in the throat, the wet pop that followed the path of his blade.

When reinforcements found him, bloody and unkillable, he volunteered to be re-educated.

Now, here he is. The Iron Bull: A commander of some damn good fighters, the best he’s ever seen, really. Unstoppable. But, it feels as if there are cracks in his body, not so gaping that he would break, but just enough that he can feel the aches and sting of his wounds. Trauma. There is something about Ellana that the world does not deserve to see. She is the Herald and dreamy-eyed. The world does not deserve to see her in all her glory, yet here she is with The Iron Bull - a brutal, war-torn Qunari. She will protect him, but who will protect her from him?

Ellana's warmth found a way into his chest. It seeded there and grew roots in his tendons. It festered. He thought it would break as a fever breaks, but it feels as if he broke instead.

“Why are you frowning?” Dalish asks sharply.

Iron Bull barely looks up from his place. “Hm?”

“You’re dazed,” Dalish says, and Iron Bull finally looks up with dark eyes. She’s nonchalantly polishing her staff, eyes sharp and inquisitive. “Why?”

Iron Bull doesn’t quite answer for a while. He swirls the alcohol around in his mug, picks at the bread next to him. “What do the Dalish say about love?”

Her feet shuffle against the floor, “If you dream of the moon, big and blue, that means true love.” She puts her staff down in between her legs and smirks at him, “Is the moon on your mind?”

Iron Bull picks at a cuticle, “No.” He sounds petulant and whiny. Disgusting.

Dalish looks wicked now. “Don’t point your finger at it, it’ll get chopped,” she demonstrates with her own hand, “right off. Clean.”

Chapter Text

The first time they kiss, it’s back at the Storm Coast. They had gone back to finish Varric’s fetch quest of destroying any primeval red lyrium nodes they were informed of. This time, they are deep inside an old Dwarven port that has been overrun by red templars. Varric had insisted they do it in the shroud of night, but that had ended up being a mistake. They had made it to the main port inside Daerwin’s Mouth, when a behemoth had come barreling in. The scattered fire posts did not offer enough visibility, so they were none the wiser. The dark coupled with the crashing waves - they neither saw nor heard it before it rampaged straight into Ellana.

It hit her with such velocity she had flown off the stairs straight into the mast of one of the anchored boats. And right there, in that moment, Hissrad was back in the jungles of Seheron. He felt the humidity around his neck, phantom blood dripping from his arms; his fingers tightened around the hilt of his ax. Varric had helped him take the beast down while Solas knelt by Ellana, presumably working healing spells into her aching body. He reacted naturally, unhinged and raging. Crystalline structures crushed and cracked, blow after blow. Red red red.

When he comes to, it’s drizzling lightly outside and Ellana is whimpering quietly. He dusts off his hands before stepping carefully into the boat. “I’ll stay and keep watch. You two grab more potions from camp.”

Solas looks up at him, insulted. “I am the mage, I should be-”

Varric puts a hand on his shoulder, “Come on, Chuckles. I know we have more potions back at Driftwood.”

Solas dejectedly storms off with Varric, and Iron Bull inches closer. He puts his ax down and places a damp hand on her jaw. The chill of the rain is nothing compared to the tips of his fingers. She begins to breathe easier, like he restored her heartbeat.

“You’ll be alright, boss,” he says, an assurance, knowing.

“Bull, I-” Ellana starts.

“Sh,” he says, quiet, sick to his stomach. The moon casts subtle light on her face. “Stay still. You’re all right.”

The sky is inky black, rain drips from his lips down into her face. Her lip is busted open, shoulder probably dislocated, yet her eyes are so vibrant, dark brown leaking into intrinsic gold in slow blinks. 

“Can I,” Iron Bull mumbles, and she’s trembling, little shivers that he only notices when she lifts her uninjured arm. She gently tugs him down to her.

The kiss is salty from the seawater and wet from the rain. The blood in his veins starts fizzing, like a poison inside. Neither Solas nor Varric say anything if they notice the shared blood on their lips when they return with armfuls of potions and elfroot.

❧❦ 

If Iron Bull had any restraint in him, he would leave Ellana alone. There's some misplaced flare of anger deep inside him. Since that night, Iron Bull has been eaten away at. Love has made a nest in his skin, and it makes him itch at night. He's angry a part of himself no longer knows how to want and restrain. He should exercise the Qun in him, leave Ellana behind where she’s safe and return to where he’s controlled. Iron Bull practices the words: It was all a trick, bas. But, against presumed best judgement, he doesn’t quit. He chalks it up to his spy training; she is simply a mystery he wants the pride of solving. Simple.

He brings them both back to the Storm Coast. The Ben-Hassrath offered an alliance with the Inquisition, and they demanded the Inquisitor must be with him and his Chargers. It was a surprise to him, such an invitation. They’re just looking for information, desperate for some sense of control amongst the chaos. Ellana accepts, eager to appease. They walk along cliffs overlooking the waves, their thick caps violently crashing apart against the rocks. The ocean was a sheer drop down, hungry and enticing. The trail was not easy, wind clawed against their faces and rain blurred their vision. The Venatori troops paired with the slickness of the ground was not ideal, but they powered through, determined to make ends meet. However, when they send the Chargers to their own rendezvous point, Ellana doesn’t seem so sure anymore. Gatt doesn’t care.

“We’ll need to eliminate the Venatori, then signal the dreadnought so it can come in and take out the smuggler ship.”

The Venatori’s cargo is red lyrium, and the Ben-Hassrath see this as a clear and deadly threat. If they smuggle it successfully, they’ll be able to wipe out the Qunari in Seheron, thus favoring Tevinter. Iron Bull understands the threat, but not as urgently as Gatt would prefer. Political bullshit, Iron Bull thinks to himself.

Ellana looks up to him, “Bull, does this work for you?”

This catches him off guard, but he doesn’t let it show. He is still unaccustomed to anyone's consideration, much less from her. Bull crosses his arms and surveys the battle ahead, “I don’t like the look of this. There’s too many of them.”

Gatt lights the signal, choosing to ignore their conversation in desperation. “I know. But you need to do what’s right, Hissrad.” He says that name like a curse. He motions quickly between them. “For this alliance, and for the Qun.”

For once in his life, Iron Bull does not want to make the call. The two most important things in his life are being threatened. He turns to Ellana - sacrifice his identity or his men. He is unwilling to make the choice, weak and frozen with doubt. He is laying his life, his dignity, into her hands. He briefly feels guilty for pushing her to make this decision, but he knows she is capable.

She searches his eyes before glancing down at the Chargers and oncoming group of Venatori. “Save your men, Bull.”

He doesn’t hesitate to sound the retreat. Her word against the world. Without another thought, Iron Bull blew a deep, resonating horn. The sound cut through the chaos, echoing across the cliffs as a call to retreat. The Chargers immediately disengaged from their positions and began to fall back.

Gatt explodes next to them, “All these years, Hissrad, and you throw away all that you are! For what? For this? For them?”

He snarls and opens his mouth to say more but Ellana makes a sound Iron Bull hasn’t heard yet, like ice snapping in her throat. He recognizes the distinct sound of her fingertips sizzling. The magic he's been so skeptical of, raw power of the Fade, was now a manifestation of her willpower, her loyalty to the Inquisition and to him. Iron Bull glanced at her, catching a glimpse of her lips pressed into a tight line. He recognized her strength in that moment, not just as the Inquisitor, but as a woman who understood him in ways he had never allowed himself to imagine. Gatt raises his hands in submission.

“Don’t call him Hissrad. His name is Iron Bull.” The wind had tousled her hair, strands of it clinging to her cheeks. Her voice an unspoken promise in the tension.

❧❦

As the sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow across snow-capped mountains, Iron Bull could not find comfort. Ellana slowly eases open the tower door, cautious with her steps. She's wringing her hands, nervous about how to approach the situation. "You wanted to see me?"

The tension in his shoulders began to ease, but a sudden movement caught Iron Bull's eye. A glint of steel, a flash of motion. He lands a heavy blow on the first agent, but before he could react, a dagger had found its mark in his shoulder. Iron Bull's breath catches, his body instinctively tensing against the pain. Ellana's voice was a distant echo as his vision blurred and his grip on the railing tightened. She steadies herself to fight back, but Iron Bull was prepared for this.

She shouts his name, frantic and confused. Iron Bull's fingers tighten around the hilt of the dagger, and with a guttural growl, surges forward. His movements confident and controlled despite the pain. In one swift motion, he embeds a hand-ax deep into the chest of one of them before targeting the next. The agent staggers to stand, hissing out, "Ebost issala, Tal-Vashoth!"

Like magic, these words engulf his veins in a fury he has never felt. A sting of pain, embarrassment, anger, hurt. Before Ellana can catch her bearings of the situation, Iron Bull swings the other agent over the ramparts, his form disappearing into the abyss below. The sound of his startled cry swallowed by the wind.

A fitting end, if Iron Bull had any say. "My soul is dust. Yours is scattered all over the ground." As the adrenaline began to subside, the pain in Iron Bull's side intensified. He turned to Ellana, his breath ragged, his face a mixture of pain and grim determination. "Sorry, boss. I thought I might need backup."

She doesn't seem to be listening. Her hands glow a soft amber light with a healing spell, searching for his wound. "Are you alright?"

Iron Bull shoves her hands away. "Fine. I've hurt myself worse than this fooling around in bed."

Ellana scowls at him and crosses her arms. He can tell she's angry at his dismissive attitude, but he is too overwhelmed to care. "Fine, die a slow and painful death because you're stubborn."

"I've been dosing myself with saar-qamek for a while now. It stings like shit, but that's about it." He aggressively kicks the dead Ben-Hassrath agent on the ground. "This was a formality. They're making it clear I'm Tal-Vashoth. Tal-va-fucking-shoth."

The pain was a constant ache as he straightened, his fingers smeared with his own blood. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the ramparts, Iron Bull turned his gaze towards the expanse before him. Beside him, Ellana's presence grew softer, a reminder. "You acted like a Tal-Vashoth for years, and that didn't change you. Neither does this."

With a deep breath, Iron Bull leaned against the railing, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "That was just a role. This is my life, as one of them."

She grabs his arm, making sure to miss the dagger wound. "You are a good man. If the Ben-Hassrath don't see that, it's their loss."

His wounds, physical and mental, were still raw, his mind racing, but Ellana stayed steady next to him. He catches her expectant gaze, and his chest swells. "Look, whatever I miss, whatever I regret... this is where I want to be." He watches as a smile tugs at her lips, her eyes bright in the setting sun. "Whenever you need an ass-kicked, The Iron Bull is with you."

Chapter Text

The first and only time she brings up the barmaids, it made Iron Bull nervous. They were in her quarters at Skyhold, the quiet intimacy of the space somehow amplifying the weight of their conversation.

“What do they mean to you?” She had asked.

“Did,” Iron Bull corrected, almost snide. He begins inspecting his ax, busying his hands in the familiar, worn refuge.

“Fine, what did they mean to you?” She asks again, sharper. She wouldn't let this go, and he should have known better by now. Ellanna was always persistent. He looks over at her, cautious of her vulnerability. She is pulling into herself, and he can see the small charges of magic dancing between her fingers. He can sense her insecurity.

“Hey,” he starts soft and coaxing. “As long as we’re doing this, you’ve got my full attention.”

She remains silent before standing up from the bed, grabbing something from the corner of the room. Iron Bull sits up and puts his ax down, an offering to lay himself bare. “You okay, Boss?”

She turns to face him, hands holding something large and dark. “I have something for you.”

His heart picks up in his chest, something he’s not used to. “What’s that?”

She offers her open palms out. “It’s a dragon’s tooth, split in two. So, no matter how far apart life takes us, we’re always together.”

She smiles at him, nervous and anticipating. He gently grabs the halves from her hands and runs his thumb over the high ridges in the tooth. The serrated sides a testament to its power. He is accustomed to this offering. “Not often people surprise me, Kadan.”

A breeze ruffles the curtains in her room, soft and inviting. She finally inches closer, close enough for him to pull her into him. Her knees hit the velvet softness of her bed and Iron Bull places a hand on her back. “Kadan?”

He lowers her gently into the bed, fingers skirting up her shirt and fluttering over her ribs. “Kadan. My heart. ”

❧❦

For Iron Bull, the beginning of spring comes by a creek.

Ellana has a book of poems in her hands; she’s reading to him in Dalish while they eat fresh berries from Orlais. Words slide up from the back of her throat to glaze her lips like peach syrup. She’d be sweet to kiss while she’s waxing poetry, Iron Bull thinks.

“Bull.” She’s talking to him, tone serious. Iron Bull doesn’t pay her any mind, but he does slide an arm around her waist. Ellana smacks her arm, “Have you been drinking that whiskey again? I thought I had Josie take it off the supply list.”

This time, Iron Bull turns to her to smile, “The bottle said it was ‘smoother than elven baby-butt.’” His arm sinks lower and pinches her, “Do you think your ass is smoother?”

Ellana rolls her eyes and adjusts the white blouse around her breasts; it’s humid out and it’s got her clothes sticking in all the right places. “Hey,” she starts out slow. Ellana picks at the grass before looking down at him. “I think… I think I love you.”

Iron Bull smirks up at her. “Going soft on me, Kadan?” But she doesn’t smile back. Iron Bull can see the worry, the hurt, in her eyes. He sits up, shuts her book, and turns her to face him, “Hey, I love you, too.”

She smiles at him so soft, so sweetly. His hand comes up to cup her cheek, and she gently leans into it. When Ellana licks softly into his mouth, Iron Bull settles over her, pinning her down with his weight and trapping her against the soft grass. She laughs and raises a berry to his lips. The sugar mixed in with the berries is now saturated and a thick syrup, and Ellana exhales slow as he licks the sugar off her fingers.

When her shirt comes off, her skin blooms with goosebumps. There are a few scars littered throughout her torso and hips. Some from punishments while she was with her clan, another a fire burn that didn’t heal quite right, and the one by her collarbone that came from a templar. That bastard , Iron Bull thinks. It makes him furious, but he and Cassandra had been there to slash him down. It was such a brutal take down, a beast defending his territory, that Cole did not look at him for a week. Ellana grabs his hand and brings it to her lips. She kisses his fingertips, “Don’t fret, ma vhenan.”

He shivers underneath her lips, but he doesn’t let her notice. She doesn’t flinch when Iron Bull’s fingers curl tight and grip hard and hold her, but her stomach hollows as she holds her breath. He needs this more than she does, a chance to hold what is his close. A passionate ownership.

She runs her free hand over his shoulders and over his chest, like the whole of him is a marvel to her. An elvhen temple, just for her. With her final touch landing on his horn, Iron Bull strips her fully.

The closeness ignites, skin to skin with the breeze gently passing between them. Heat like molten aurum inside of him melts in his stomach and settles deeply, between his legs. Ellana moans against him as he kisses down her neck.

Iron Bull likes the idea of Ellana underneath him, vulnerable and desperate. They fit into each other like a sword into its sheath. He places his arm under her neck, the other bent at the elbow by her head. She tries to wound her hands up his neck, but he ties them together with his harness. 

He traces the shape of a scar with his tongue, while one hand finds a brown nipple and gently circles. Ellana moans softly, and Iron Bull breathes for it. With the heat of his erection pressed up right between her thighs, Ellana spreads her legs. He pushes her breast to his mouth and nips at her nipple until she is pushing at his shoulders, whimpering.

She says, “Okay, okay, please” over and over again, face flushed so pretty pink - body trembling, mouth open and panting. Iron Bull presses a hand over her mouth, “Be quiet,” he whispers.

Their camp is only a short walk away. He looks down at her writhing beneath him, rubbing up against him, desperate. How embarrassing for her would it be for Cassandra to find the Herald of Andraste begging for Qunari cock. The savior of the world, crying and frantic for The Iron Bull.

Arousal overwhelms him in hot, molten waves. He kisses down her stomach and sucks hard to leave a trail of his own marks. 

She preens under him, her hips bucking up and a pretty whine escaping her lips as Iron Bull makes a purple bruise bloom on the inside of her thigh. He grins and pushes his fingers in, and Ellana is gone, moaning intensely as her eyes roll back. Her breathing is erratic as he pumps his fingers. It takes more preparation and consideration for Iron Bull to fuck her with his cock. Her body is small and he is… endowed. They make it work, but they do not have the time or the oil to make it work here.

He runs his free hand up and down her body, squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples. He rubs her clit with his thumb as he adds a second finger, rubbing them along the top of her walls. Ellana lets out a noise that catches in her throat and clenches hard. “G-Go back, Bull, do that again,” she pants.

Iron Bull keeps his fingers inside her in one place and grabs her wrists by the harness with the other hand. He lifts her back off the ground and pulls her in close. She bats her wet eyelashes at him, and he smiles. “You know how you’re supposed to beg.” Her lips quiver, as do her walls around his fingers. “Ask.”

“Please, Kadan. Please, do it again.”

And so he does. He drops her back to the ground and ups the pace he was at. She presses down, and it’s obvious when she is going to come. Her breathing is more frantic, gone ragged. He moves his mouth down lower and kisses and tongues her, and just like that she’s coming around his fingers, in hot, wet pulses.

Iron Bull gently unwraps the harness from around her wrists, but before he can pull back, she sucks his wet fingers right into her mouth and sucks them clean. He runs his fingers over teeth and then pulls them out with a pop. She is eager to please him next but there’s no time; they’ve been gone for almost three hours and people are bound to get curious. 

That night, in their tents, when Iron Bull lies beside her, the beat of his own heart loud in his ears, he is unable to focus. There is only the sound of Ellana whispering, the warmth of her body pressed against him, shivering with eagerness to please.

She presses her cheek into his thigh, small and almost shy, and asks for permission. “May I, vhenan ?”

Iron Bull looks down at her, the sweetness of her face shadowed in the dark. “You may.”

Chapter Text

They’re in Ellana’s room, the balcony doors wide open. An evening breeze wafts in and tickles down his spine. Iron Bull has her laid out on her bed. The intricate wood has several divots for ropes and chains. Her bed sheets, a deep red, pool around their legs.

The strike of affection that hits Iron Bull in that moment is simply breathtaking. It feels nothing short of a thunderclap spilling on his chest. Their noses touch; he smells lavender, and Ellana tilts her head to the side. He kisses up her neck and gently lifts her bed shirt over head.

Her breath catches in her throat when his palm brushes down her chest, down to her stomach. He examines her body underneath him - the scars and freckles. The defined muscles in her arms, the mole on her breast, the softness of her stomach.

Iron Bull licks at her navel and kneads her thighs. Here she is, held down by his hands, wanting to be pinned there. She opens her mouth as if to taste the arousal heavy in the air.

“What do you want?” He asks, one hand holding her wrists, the other soft on her thigh. Her eyes go wide, frantic with embarrassment. She goes to answer him, but nothing comes out. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want… I want you to fuck me. Please,” Ellana pants out, cheeks red with embarrassment.

Iron Bull, happy to comply, sucks a hickey by her heart, another hickey on her stomach. He releases her hands and whispers, “Hands to yourself.”

The way she looks, staring at him with glassy, soft eyes, shuddering breaths and kiss-swollen lips, will always be his favorite. She’s absolutely stunning, and Iron Bull wants to absolutely ruin her. He gives one nipple a sharp pinch to test her. 

A keening sound tears from her throat as she arches her chest up into his fingers, both hands. Her hands go to grab him but she quickly corrects herself. “Vhenan,” she whimpers, body trembling, “touch me, please.”

Iron Bull brushes their lips together. “Where?”

She hesitates, wringing her hands. “Can I… be on top? This time?”

Iron Bull sucks her tongue into his mouth and slides his hands down her hip. He smooths his palms over the lovely curve of her ass; she is so warm and soft like velvet. He squeezes each cheek roughly and Ellana grins wide into their kiss when he flips them over.

“It’s all yours, Kadan,” he rasps and watches as she shivers at the term of endearment. She raises her hips and slides her briefs down her legs.

And then, there’s Ellana, kneeling above him in nothing. She blushes bright when she lowers her hips back down, right on top of his cock. Iron Bull marvels at her, a bit too long because Ellana leans down and laughs at him, but he shuts her up with a bruising kiss and harsh slap on her ass. She gasps, grinding down harder onto him. “You have to be quiet. Wouldn’t want someone walking in on us, would you?”

She shakes her head and watches intently as Iron Bull slowly touches himself underneath her. She’s not allowed to touch him, not yet at least. He gives himself a few strokes for the sheer pleasure of it, spreading his precum down the shaft. Iron Bull lifts and presses his hand against her mouth - smelling of musk, tasting of his sex.

“Suck,” Iron Bull commands.

He easily pushes two fingers into her pliant mouth. She looks down at him, sucking lightly.

“Look at you,” Iron Bull says, two fingers slowly rubbing in and out. “The Herald of Andraste, bending the knee for a Qunari. What would your advisors think?”

She shudders, fear and arousal heavy in her eyes. She shifts her hips and flits her tongue between his two fingers, teething gently. He slowly withdraws his hand, and eases his ring finger in, just past the first knuckle. Ellana immediately clenches around him and grinds her hips down onto his finger - so willing.

She’s begging for more before Iron Bull can think, passing him the jar of oil as she stares down at him with pretty eyes. It’s so sinful the way she rocks back on his fingers, cherry lips parting to let out the sweetest sounds.

Iron Bull wraps his fingers in her fluffed hair; he looks pointedly at her before weaving his fingers in and gripping tight. Ellana cries out as her head is pulled back and he surges upward, biting into the soft skin of her neck, adding another bruise to the repertoire. She’s riding his fingers shamelessly now, circling her hips and squeezing her thighs around his.

He can barely breathe, needs to be inside her, but he has to prep her first. So he takes his time, teasing out small noises. He uses his grip on her hair as leverage as he fucks up into her. And then, “Ready for me, Kadan?”

Ellana leans her forehead against his, sweat in her hairline, “Yes, please.”

He grips her chin and kisses the corner of her mouth, “Breathe.”

She nods prettily and gasps like her lungs have become vacuums when the head of his cock pushes through. This is the only part he allows for the tempo of sex to be slowed. She has to adjust as she slides down his shaft. He does not fit fully, and he never will, but the way her expression changes as she takes more of him is breathtaking. She’s biting her bottom lip, eyebrows furrowed and lashes fluttering. It’s stunning.

Her velvet walls clench around him, and Iron Bull exhales a long growl, jaw clamping down harder and hands burning bruises into her thighs. They sit there for a few minutes, breathing each other in. When she’s ready, “Y-you can move,” she presses her palms into his shoulder blades, “please.”

There’s a small fraction of time where he rotates his hips, relishing in the whine it pulls from her. He licks the column of her neck before pulling out and thrusting back into the tight heat.

Ellana keens and arches her back. When she spreads her knees wider, Iron Bull knows she’s ready. He licks into her lips and sporadically thrusts, thick cock drilling into her and bruising her pleasure spot. Iron Bull doesn’t know if he wants to look at her eyes or where his cock disappears inside of her.

When her head rolls back, Iron Bull jerks her head back forward with a hand at the back of her neck and this means Mine. She moans with a glint in her eyes that says Yours.

It’s so hot in the room, and the sound of their skin smacking reverberates in his skull. Iron Bull feels high on arousal, sweat clinging to his biceps and forehead as he delivers strong, sure thrusts into her.

She circles her hips and that’s just – everything is blurring and kaleidoscoping. She feels so good stretched around him; her lithe body is shiny with sweat, muscles contracting beautifully as she works herself up and down.

“Riding me so good, Kadan – fuck,” Iron Bull’s words devolve into a long, deep groan as she tries to take more of him in. He curses and slows her down for a moment. Iron Bull takes his hands off her hips and moves them to spread her ass and squeeze, drawing himself deeper inside. Ellana grips desperately at his shoulders, the air knocked out of her. He pulls out halfway, only to thrust back into her roughly. He must’ve hit the right spot because she gushes around him.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan - ah! - I love you,” she manages to choke out between her mantra of high moans. Her thighs are shaking, and she sounds like she’s about to cry.

“Are you close?” He mouths at her neck again, his thrusts slow and deep.

“So, so close, please . . .”

“I love you, too,” he says into her skin, hot and smooth.

He thumbs at her clit, and Ellana clenches around him, finishing with a sob. Iron Bull fucks her through it, her body collapsing into his when she’s finished. She buries her face in his neck, then, whimpering softly as Iron Bull continues to pound into her, chasing his own orgasm.

He’s just toeing the edge when he hears Ellana’s voice, raspy and dulcet in his ear. “Finish inside me, please, want you to fill me up . . .”

And that’s it. Iron Bull’s vision is whitewashed and he comes harder than he has in his entire fucking life, spilling into her with a groan.

They lay still for a moment, Ellana on his chest and his arms wound tightly around her, cum-sticky and chests heaving. He’s still inside her, his heartbeat pulsing as he grows soft.

“Bull,” Ellana whispers, eyes wide and dark. She licks her lips and looks down. “I… can I clean us? I mean, with my mouth?”

Iron Bull groans, deep with satisfaction. He lifts her a little, pleased by her murmur of overstimulation, to watch as their sex drips between them. It’s creamy and wet, and god, does Iron Bull want to see that: her mouth on him. He fully unsheathes, “Go ahead.”

She weakly scrambles to sit between his legs, small hands pulling apart his thighs. She starts at the shaft, mouthing and licking slowly down. Her tongue must be heavy with their musk, but she continues down further. He grunts with overstimulation as she sucks one of his balls into her mouth. He can only imagine what she looks like from behind, cum oozing between her legs.

Iron Bull knows what he expected, but what she does next is not that. Suddenly, her tongue is lower, flicking over his taint. He jolts and whips his head up to look at her. He can only see her eyes, the rest of her face obstructed by his weeping cock, but the wicked spark of desire is obvious in her eyes. She continues to lick flat-tongued against him until she’s satisfied. When he raises her up from between his legs, saliva and cum dribbles down her chin.

He wipes her mouth off with the back of his hand and kisses her sweetly before tucking them under the sheets. Their bodies turn towards each other, heartbeats in sync.

He dreams of the moon.

Chapter Text

In Halamshiral, the lighting is dim, the air is heavy with deceit, sex, and greed. Iron Bull wishes his mask covered his face fully to keep the smell out, but at least it’s fitted better than this horrible regalia Josephine had dressed him in. The yellow-gold of the sash was attention-grabbing - not ideal for the shadows - and, according to Vivienne, the royal red washed his skin out. He frowns deeper as he watches from the corner, eyes lingering on suspects. Iron Bull’s is attuned to the soft hum of conversations, snippets of information and half-truths that float through the room. He leans against a marble pillar, his arms crossed, every bit the disinterested observer.

He’s been taking mental notes on quite a few suspects. Two men out on the terrace who are quietly but not indiscreetly discussing the templar problem. He has watched the same thin woman in a dramatic blue and beige dress sneak men deeper into a hallway. For what, he wasn’t quite sure, but he could assume it involved skin-to-skin. He assumes the elven servants here are working for Briala, they are more antsy and defiant than he is used to seeing. He's watched the same scrawny elf pick up and place down a bottle of champagne so many times now he figures the drink has gone flat.

Suddenly, Cole slides up next to him. Concerned. “I don’t understand the Grand Ball. It would be easier if they say what they want.”

Iron Bull is uncomfortable with having him so close, but he entertains him. “What do you think of the masks?”

Cole stiffles next to him. “What masks?”

Iron Bull stops scanning the crowd and looks down. He motions to the crowd of people, “The masks. Everyone has one on.”

Cole hesitates and glances between Iron Bull and the crowd. His hand goes up to his own face, gently brushing against his cheek. “Those aren’t their faces?”

Iron Bull shakes his head slightly before resuming analyzing the crowd. Ellana is still scouring the closed off halls, gathering whatever information she can. She had decided to leave Bull behind with Cole, so that she and Cassandra could sneak around unhindered. You’re not very sneaky, my love , she had said, hand brushing a horn. Iron Bull grunts and repositions. He knows she can handle herself, but he hates to think of her alone.

“Agents with hushed tones. Eyes stinging, forms to fill out, course corrections, reduce risk of similar losses.” Cole is twisting his hands, looking everywhere but at him. “Words break in small secret spaces. Eyes wide. Your hurt touches hers.”

Iron Bull pushes off the pillar, “That’s weird, kid.”

Before either can say anymore, the guards are shoving open the thick ballroom doors. Ellana makes her grand return, flanked closely by Cassandra and Leliana. She’s stunning in her palace attire. She is wearing a dark green Dalish dress made of soft linen and a fur lined shawl wrapped around her shoulders, the ends tucked into an intricately braided leather belt around her waist. Her leather armor is subtle, probably dyed darker to hide it better. The heel and toe of her boots were lined with silver to match her ornate jewelry. Josephine had insisted on braiding her hair and sticking silver flower pins in the cross sections.

“Silver lining, graceful, glittering but not gaudy. Voice tired yet determined.” Cole turns to look up at him. “You want to see her, under her clothes.”

He does not respond, just watches. Ellana’s skin is flushed and she is missing a few pins from her braid. She’s been fighting. She glances over at them, face unchanging, before entering the dance floor. He cracks his knuckles and stretches out his shoulders, scanning the crowd, looking for any reinforcements he should be concerned about.

“We owe the court one more show, your Grace.” Her voice echoes in the chamber, commanding. Admittedly, Iron Bull feels his pants tighten.

Ah , he thinks, this is going to be good.

❧❦ 

What matters now, after the empress is safe with her lover and the nobles high off the thrill of the game, is Ellana. She smells of sweat and expensive fruit perfumes. She’s taken her braid down, so her hair wisps in the wind.

“How ya doing?” He slides up next to her on the balcony.

She glances up at him slowly, exhausted. Her eyes are dark like the hue of the sky, and she has clearly bitten her lip raw with worry. He doesn’t necessarily trust himself to speak. She is a muddled pile of rage and sorrow and exhaustion. She had just come off a battlefield, victorious but not unscathed.

“This is only a temporary victory.” She drops her head, fingers fiddling with a flower pin. “There is still so much to do.”

“Oh, probably,” Iron Bull grabs her hand. “Not much you can do about it tonight, though.” She welcomes his touch, squeezing his hand. He smiles, playful. “Come on, we can finally dance to the music.”

Amusement lights up her eyes as she accepts his invitation. The softness of her body presses up against him, her arms wound around his waist in an embrace. She is truly exhausted, so Iron Bull holds her up for most of it. She rests her cheek on his chest, and Iron Bull savors the brilliance of her warmth, imagining the thrum of her heartbeat under her skin.

He presses his lips softly into her hair, “Do you want to leave?”

Ellana glances at her companions, scattered on the glittering dance floor or in a darkened corner. She’s checking to make sure everyone is okay. Once she is reassured, she returns her gaze to him. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Come on,” he says, cocking his head to the side. His hands keep her close, holding her together. “They’ll survive without you.”

❧❦

The scorching sun beats down mercilessly on their backs. Amongst a shimmering mirage of golden sand, they crawl along, tired. The heat has seeped down to their bones, baking them alive. Scout Harding advised wearing long layers, just enough to cover the skin from the sun, but it doesn’t feel helpful. Iron Bull’s brow furrows with irritation, sweat glistening on his forehead. He is hardly amused.

“I’ve faced giants and demons,” Iron Bull mutters, his frustration evident in the grovel of his voice. “But this heat, it’s like dragon’s breath.”

Ellana wipes at the sweat from her brow, her lips curved in a wry smile. “At least saunas don’t come with demons.”

Sera lets out a humorless chuckle, and Iron Bull’s frustration momentarily breaks. As they trudge along, the distant dunes seem to shift and change like a living, breathing entity. The crackle of rifts in the sky indicate so. The wastelands were the worst area for rifts. There were so many that Solas had petitioned for his scholars to conduct a veil test.

He swung his ax with precision, cleaving through the demons that emerged from tears in the Veil. If that could even be said -- the demons did not bleed, they faded away with every hit. Each swing was fueled by his mounting annoyance, a way to vent his irritation as much as a method of defense. Cole fought diligently alongside him, his daggers glinting in the harsh sunlight. It was the constant presence of demons that truly grated on Iron Bull’s nerves. With a hard swing, he manages to crack the molten hide of a pride demon and, damn, he really fucking hates demons.

“I’ve never seen so many damn demons in one place,” Iron Bull grunted out through gritted teeth as he dragged his ax sternum to navel on the pride demon.

Ellana’s voice held a hint of sympathy as she parried a demon’s attack with her staff. “It’s the Breach. It’s drawn them here.”

Iron Bull let out a frustrated growl. “I get it, Boss, but it’s like they’re coming out of the woodwork. Or the sand. Whatever.”

They fought on, their rhythm synchronized as they carved a path through the demon horde. Sweat mingled with sand on Iron Bull’s skin, and the weight of his armor felt even more burdensome in the sweltering heat.

After the breach was successfully mended, the group pressed on, determined to reach the next checkpoint for camp. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the dunes as day began to wane. Settled in, Iron Bull meticulously took his armor off, shaking and brushing off as much sand as possible.

Ellana’s smile was both weary and triumphant as she met his gaze. “Maybe next time we’ll be fighting demons in a snowstorm,” she teased.

Iron Bull chuckled dryly. “Sounds like paradise, Kadan.”

“Kadan,” a soft voice interjected. They turned to see Cole standing nearby, his form barely visible in the moonlight. His eyes held a mixture of understanding and mystery, as if he saw things that others couldn’t fathom. “Kadan,” he repeated, as if savoring the word.

Iron Bull raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but not entirely surprised by Cole’s sudden outburst. “Hey, kid. You always hang out in the shadows like that?”

“Kadan,” Cole repeated. “It means different things. Heart, and chest, and you, and sometimes, there are ropes.”

Iron Bull chuckled. “Alright, Cole, don’t hurt yourself. ‘Kadan’ isn’t that complicated.”

Sera’s mischievous laughter rang out. She swings her body around in her campfire seat. “Is that your naked name? The one you save for when it’s dark?”

Ellana begins to blush and wave her hands in the air in an attempt to stop them. “Alright, alright! Everyone, back to your tents, no need to pry!”

Iron Bull rolls his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips. He places his hands on her shoulders and rocks her side to side. “It’s a title of honor for the woman I love.”

Sera’s tone turns mockingly suggestive, as she slides in and attempts to put her arm around his shoulders. “I’ll bet. Get ‘honor,’ and stay on … on her? Wait, I swear this works.”

Ellana lets out an exaggerated groan and Iron Bull can’t help but join in the laughter. She squeezes Iron Bull’s hand, her gaze meeting his with a shared understanding. Her Vhenan and his Kadan.

❧❦

Iron Bull’s heart raced as he fought with all his might, his eyes flickering between his foes and his companions, all locked in the chaotic struggle atop the crumbling walkway of the fortress. That same damned high dragon from Haven raged above them, shooting hot bolts of lyrium at them. The dragon’s roars echoed like thunder, and the ground trembled under the weight of the battle, the fortress groaned and heaved beneath their feet. The air was acrid and thick, volatile energy rippled overhead.

Iron Bull’s attention was drawn to Ellana. She stood tall, her staff alight with arcane energy as she conjured glittering barriers around her companions. She was multitasking, trying to keep her companions sage while trying to get to Clarel, but it was too late. The dragon unhinged its maw and snatched Clarel, grinding its teeth through her armor, piercing and splintering it. It chewed hard and fast before spitting her to the ground, looming heavy and dark above her.

Ellana tried desperately to crawl her way towards her, but Iron Bull held her back -- he could smell the mana igniting in the air before he saw it. With a burst of blinding white light and ear-splitting explosion, Clarel set off a spell of brutal force, shattering the already fragile walkway beneath them. The stone crumbled, debris scattering like raindrops in a storm, and Iron Bull felt his footing falter. His heart leapt to his throat as he saw Ellana stumble, her balance lost on the precarious edge of the disintegrating walkway.

The world around Iron Bull seemed to slow to a crawl, his senses hyper-focused on the scene before him. With a surge of dread, he witnessed her desperate attempts to regain her footing, her arms flailing in the air as she stumbled.

“Ellana!” Iron Bull’s voice tore from his chest, raw and frantic. His usually composed demeanor faltered.

He scrambled towards her as Solas and Cassandra began to slide helplessly towards the abyss below them. He moved blindly, driven by a primal instinct to reach her, to save her. Ellana’s left eye began to shimmer, her hand glowing bright and hot. A rift tore through the air below them, shimmering with an ethereal light. And then, with a pulse of energy that seemed to reverberate through the very air they breathed, the rift fully manifested. Ellana stumbled once more, her grip on the crumbling stone failing her.

“No!” The word was torn from Iron Bull’s lips, a desperate plea. Ellana fell first, her form disappearing into its shimmering embrace. Solas fell next. The pull of the rift reached for him as he began to slide, the walkway decimated. He tried to claw his way back up, desperate for stable ground, but it was no use.

The world around him blurred, the edges of reality melting into a swirling vortex of light and shadow. His own bellow of anger and pain mixed, he disappeared into the rift’s embrace just as surely as Ellana had. The world seemed to tilt on its axis as the rift swallowed him, and for a moment, all he saw was emptiness.

Somehow, suddenly, he was standing. He scanned the landscape, disbelief and horror building in his throat. In the shadowed heart of the Fade, his surroundings were an abyss that seemed to stretch infinitely in all directions. Abandoned cities loomed up in the sky, their broken spires reaching toward the void, a testament to the broken dreams and nightmares of the fade. The air was thick with the presence of demons that prowled the obsidian expanse, their forms shifting and writhing like malevolent shadows. His pulse quickened, “Shit.”

Ellana was crouched sideways on a rock, seemingly unaffected by gravity. “Solas,” she began, her voice echoing in the emptiness around them.“Are we…”

Solas's expression was solemn, his gaze distant as he took in their surroundings. “In the Fade? Yes. It seems you opened a rift, and we fell through… and survived.” He helped Ellana down from her sideways perch, “I never thought I would truly be in the Fade.”

The ground beneath them seemed to shift, a phantom breeze carrying with it the whisper of distant voices. Iron Bull’s grip on his ax tightened as he listened.

“Is this truly the Fade, or some twisted manifestation of it?” Cassandra asked, her armor glinting eerily in the green light.

Solas’s eyes met hers, the intensity of his gaze unyielding. “We are walking through a landscape of fragmented memories and twisted emotions. We are not safe here. We must find a way out immediately.”

“Solas, the fade is infinite, is it not? How do we find our way out of a labyrinth with no end?” Ellana’s voice held a tinge of urgency which was unusual, a plea for guidance.

Solas steadies himself with his staff. “We must remain focused. Our strength lies in our determination to find our way back to the realm of the waking.”

I ron Bull wasn’t sure if he was serious or just placating their anxiety. As they pressed forward, the darkness seemed to ebb and flow, something and nothing all at once.