Hey, if you're doing fics could you do Iron Bull/fAdaar (preferably mage, but doesn't have to be) where Bull complains that the Inquisitor's bed is too small for both of them and since Adaar refuses to get a new one (because it's snuggly) he then breaks it and Adaar has to explain to people why she needs a knew bed and it's not the reason they think (I hope this makes sense).
Here we go anon - I’m so so sorry it took so long, I’ve been so busy with work xx
Adaar chuckled into his skin as he squirmed yet again, running her fingers across the broad expanse of his chest,smirking as he shuddered at the electricity tingled in waves down his body. Her smirk turned into a full blown grin as his arms tightened around her, pulling her closer into his warm body, before his lips pressed to her forehead softly, coming up to scratch at the base of her horns. She nearly purred as he moved his fingers in small circles,pulling herself further into him and throwing her leg around the wide expanse of his waist.
Adaar always marveled at how much bigger he was than her, even though they were both Qunari, well, Tal-Vashoth now. She wiggles closer, pressing her cheek further into hisshoulder, sighing in deep content as his arm tightensaround her waist, drawing small circles into the bare
flesh there.
"Your bed is too small Kadan." he grumbles, shifting slightly against the pillows as his side threatens to slip off the bed. She chuckles, shuffling them both over before tucking herself back into his arms.
"Its a good excuse to snuggle. That means it stays." she replies firmly, nipping at his shoulder briefly. She can feel his mouth curve into a smile before he shakes his
head softly at her.
"Whatever you say Kadan." he replies, tugging her closer again. She sighs in content, both of them buried beneath layers upon layers of furs, most of them gifted from
far and wide, all hoping to garner favour from the Inquisitor with lavish gifts. What they didnt know that Bull did however, is that she
was a simple woman, who took simple pleasures. Food where she could get it, alcohol whenever it was offered, and pleasures with Bull… always.
She’d been raised to live day to day, as Tal-Vashoth it was normal. As a Tal-Vashoth mage… it was expected. Her thoughts were interrupted at the behest of a frigidbreeze that swept through the open windows to their left, mountain air pulling goosebumps from her flesh as it swept over her arms. Adaar shivered, trying to use Bull’s massive frame toshield herself from the cold. He chuckled, butting horns with her lightly with his. “Cold, Kadan?” he asked, a deep chuckle rumbling up from the thick barrel of his chest as she shivered again.
She growls lightly at him, biting down none to gently on his shoulder in retaliation. Its his turn to shiver now, his hands tightening
involuntarily around her middle. He made to flip her over onto her back, but she stopped him with a firm hand on thechest. Leaning up to press her lips to his ear, lightlyflicking her tongue against the very top she whispered.
"If you want anything Kadan you’re going to have to close that window first." Before biting down on the outer shellof his ear. A low growl pulled from his chest before hepulls away, sending her a glare as he bolted from beneath the warmth of the many furs piled on her bed. She burst out laughing as he sprinted across the cold tiled floor, swearing loudly in Qunlat as he went, the freezing
mountain air hitting his bare chest and legs. He manages to wrestle the doors closed with a loud slam, locking them together before turning back to her with a wicked grin.
She squeals loudly as he takes a running leap from across the room, his heavy body landing on the bed as he jumps, a ridiculous smile plastered to his features. He lands on top of her, drawing out a loud ‘oomph!’ before there is a splintering, cracking sound, and the bed comes crashing to the floor.
There are a few tense moments of silence where they lay staring at each other, Adaar with laughing eyes, and Bull with wide, child like disbelief, before Adaar’s crack of sharp laughter cuts across her chambers, Bull’s throaty chuckle raising to meet her as she clings to him, laughing harder as the minutes pass. “I knew you hated the bed Kadan, but you didn’t really have to break the damned thing in half.” She laughs as his brow furrows, before a broad smile breaks like daylight across his cheeks.
“Hey! New bed!” he cries, before wiggling his eyebrows. “That means we get to break the new one in Kadan.” A blush blotted its way across her cheeks, staining the flesh a dusky rose before she bit her lip and pulled him down for a heated kiss, making a note to ask Josephine to order her a new - bigger and sturdier - bed from Val Royeaux.
~*~
It is not till several hours later during a game of Wicked Grace with the inner circle does she realise, that asking Josie for a new bed because the other one had been split in two - without explaining what happened - was a bad idea. Varric was trying to hide his sniggers as he laid his cards out before him, waggling his eyebrows at her and Bull every so often, whilst Josie seemed content to sit in stunned silence, looking up at her and Bull with wide, disbelieving eyes before shaking her head and lowering her eyes back down to her cards.
Maker, she groans when she realises, before turning to Bull - instantly realising he had known what they were all thinking hours before, probably from the moment she’d asked Josie for the new bed, and was content to simply sit there and watch everyones reactions with a smug smirk on his face, arms crossed as he looked down at his cards every so often. She elbows him swiftly in the side, raising her eyebrows as if to prompt him to tell them what really happened.
His eyebrows raise mockingly, before his smirk deepens, turning into a big, shit eating grin that she knew oh so well, and she knew then that her circle would never know why the bed had really been broken, and Bull was quite content to let it stay that way. With a groan she lowers her head to the table, trying to ignore her blush as Varric calls out - “A little sore after today Freckles?” prompting loud bubbling laughter from the rest of the group.
Bull laughs the loudest, pulling her deftly into his side and kisses the side of her cheek.
She is content to let them think what ever they wish after that.
(( officialvarrictethras requested: she and Varric are running from the Red Templars, and she can either get away and leave him, or she can sacrifice herself for him! :D :D :D :D Tranquil mage!Adaar for Varric
Kristen, I am so, so, so sorry for this >.< ))
Harsh, ragged breathing filled his ears and it took Varric a second to recognize it as his own. He swallowed hard but there was no moisture left in his mouth, a gritty sandy feeling coating his tongue instead.
“Keep moving,” he panted, desperately.
Ahead, the Inquisitor’s long strides slowed, and she looked over her shoulder. Varric felt crushing weight settle upon his chest. If not for him, she would’ve long since lost their pursuers but he couldn’t keep up on these damned stumpy legs!
In that moment, he hated everything. He hated Blondie for blowing up the chantry and forcing them all to leave Kirkwall. He had had a nice place at the Hanged Man, and an extensive network of contacts. He hated the chantry and their teachings about mages. He hated the damned Templars behind them. He hated his Ancestors for giving birth to stumpy-legged babies. He hated the Inquisitor for her foolish sense of nobility and need to protect him.
Most of all, he hated himself.
If he had longer legs, she wouldn’t have to wait for him. If he hadn’t always been such a miserable failure, hiding his pain behind a veneer of jokes and witty misdirection, maybe they wouldn’t be in this mess.
“Varric!” Adaar hissed, thinly-veiled fear making her tone high and sharp. Her face was a mask of control, but her eyes revealed the truth and it was like a knife to his chest. This was all his fault.
“Just… leave me…” he begged her, flapping his hands desperately to get her moving.
Shouting grew louder behind them, and the incessant clanking of plate knelled like a death toll. Panic filled Varric and he couldn’t breathe, even had he any breath left to begin with.
“GO!” he hissed at her, knowing his own legs could carry him no further. Dwarves were not meant for long-distance running. He hid the wobble in his knees as he finally caught up to the towering Kossith woman. “Please!” he begged. “I’ll be right behind you!”
“No, Varric,” she said quietly, a frightening calm descending upon the Inquisitor. “We will run from them no longer.” Fear seized his heart at the look of sorrow in her golden eyes and he caught at her hand as she stepped past him.
“No! You can’t!” His voice came out a strangled squeak that might have embarrassed him were the situation not so dire. As it was, he clung to her arm like a dead weight, dragging her to a halt. “Inquisitor, please!” The Templars were close now. “I’m not worth this! Save yourself! I’m not a mage, they won’t hurt me!”
“Oh, Varric,” the statuesque woman sighed, turning her head to look down at him. One hand curled around the dwarf’s unshaven chin and the look she gave him pierced his heart a second time within minutes. Sorrow, regret, something he couldn’t identify.
“We have you now!” a strident voice interrupted them and her golden eyes tore from Varric’s, her exquisite brow furrowing with a scowl directed at the armored men slowly surrounding them. She pushed Varric behind her, stifling his protests with a stern look.
“If I go with you, will you let the dwarf go free?” she demanded.
“No!” Varric hissed, desperation causing him to lunge forward. Ancestors, this wasn’t happening.
The Templar in command sneered and sauntered forward, a confident swagger in his steps now that they had cornered the mage. “I hardly think you’re in a position to make demands.” Varric went cold as he noticed a faint red gleam in the eyes of every man in the clearing.
“Inquisitor!” Varric whispered.
“Varric, be SILENT!” She snarled, spinning on him. Shock silenced him more effectively than a slap. For an instant, their eyes met, and he realized. She knew. She knew and she was still going to trade herself for his freedom.
“No…” he moaned as she turned back to the Templars, drawing herself up to her full height. None of these men were short, and yet she stood at least a head taller than even the tallest among them.
“I am no ordinary mage,” she bit off her words, glaring murderously at the man in charge. “Your powers would silence any other mage with barely a thought, but I am the Inquisitor. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?” A grim smile that held no mirth accompanied this announcement. Varric knew how much she hated wearing that mantle so for her to use it as her shield now... A few of the templars paled and darted nervous glances at one another, their arrogance fading.
The commander noticed the courage of his men faltering but he sneered and took a step toward her. “That makes no difference. We are still mandated by a higher power to bring you in.” He poked a finger at her.
“Perhaps,” Adaar murmured, her eyes half-lidded as she gazed at the man. All fear seemed to have melted from her, leaving a proud, defiant creature facing down a score of armored men. “If you agree to let him go, I will come with you quietly and I will not fight you. But,” she hissed and leaned forward right into the templar’s face, his smirk sliding away, “if you so much as harm a hair on this dwarf’s chest, I will fight with everything I have. You may take me down, but many of you will die. Are you willing to take that risk?” Her voice was a sibilant hiss.
Glancing around at his men shifting uncomfortably, Varric could almost hear the gears grinding inside the man’s head as he weighed her offer. “You will come without a fuss?” he finally asked the towering woman.
“Yes.”
“You can’t!” Varric pleaded with her again, desperately lunging for her hand.
“Varric, please,” Adaar said, placing a hand on his shoulder and kneeling down so she could look him in the eye. Her eyes held such love that it stole his breath away. Why had he never realized…? Her hand cradled the side of his face and she gave him a sweet, sad smile that broke his heart. “I would die if you were not safe. Go back and tell the others.”
“Inquis- I… A…” For once, Varric’s silver tongue failed him and he found himself experiencing a wholly unfamiliar thing. He was at a loss for words. So many thoughts clamored through his mind, words he should say, things he should have long since said.
But nothing came out.
“If you’re about through?” the commander intoned boredly.
Adaar was suddenly on her feet again, her eyes full of fire. “Your word he will not be harmed.”
“Yes, you have my word.” The templar waved his hand and rolled his eyes, turning away and gesturing to his men. The templars surged forward, parting around Varric as they grabbed the tall, noble woman and bound her hands.
Varric stood there, numb. Unable to think. Unable to react. Exhaustion tore at him, a bone deep weariness that had nothing to do with their labored run. This was something else, something within his soul, where he floated, lost.
The templars began dragging the Inquisitor away and she looked over her shoulder at Varric. Traces of her pale hair had escaped its tie and fell around her face, the look of wistful sadness in her golden eyes burning fiercely into Varric’s brain. Time froze as their eyes locked.
And then she was gone. Varric finally found his tongue. “Don’t go with them… I love you…”
--------------------------
“Varric! Wake up!” Cassandra pounded a gloved fist against the dwarf’s door, rousing him from the somnolence that had plagued him ever since he returned to the Keep without the Inquisitor.
Varric heard the woman’s cries but he shut her out. He pulled his pillow over his head and tried to ignore her. In sleep, he could forget.
“Varric! The Inquisitor is back!”
That got his attention.
“What?!” he gasped, sitting bolt upright. How could-? Why would the templars let her go?
Not even bothering to locate a shirt and still wearing the pants he had passed out last night in, he hurried to the door and flung it open, Cassandra’s hand frozen in the act of a third knock.
“Hurry! She just appeared at the gates.” Cassandra’s face was grim and she had her hand on the hilt of her sword as she turned and led the way. A heavy rain was pelting the roof of the keep, flooding the courtyard where a tall hooded figure had just been let inside. Dorian stumbled out into the hallway, adjusting his sashes as he fell into step beside them. Varric’s distracted mind noticed only half of the magister’s moustache had been oiled. Slowly the others joined them as they made their way down to the gates.
The Inquisitor had not moved, nor had she made any attempt to get out of the rain.
Varric felt a coldness clutch around his heart. She lifted her head as the sound of their approach reached her ears, and he saw a flash of golden eyes. Running ahead of the others, the dwarf splashed to a halt in front of her, blinking from the rain.
“Varric.” She acknowledged his presence.
“...what’s wrong with you?” he asked, dread creeping up his spine.
Slowly, her slate grey hands rose and pushed back the hood, revealing a sunburst brand in the center of her forehead.
“NO!” A strangled shout from one of the companions.
“No…” Varric echoed, dropping to his knees heedless of the mud that immediately soaked through his trousers. “I wasn’t worth this…”
