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Dorian told him Rook’s base was in the Fade somewhere, and that was a hard no from Bull. Lucky him, his kadan saw that coming and arranged a meeting at the Shadow Dragon hideout in Docktown. Not the whole group—just the dwarven Veil Jumper with a big hammer and the qunari warrior on the outs with their tama. Or maybe mother would be better, since Taash was Vashoth and only their parent had been raised in the Qun. Hard to say, really. Bull would figure it out as he went.
Sitting in the main room where Dorian usually met with Maevaris, he settled into a broad chair and waited for the duo to arrive next. He wasn’t there long—only a handful of rows on his knitting—before the two rounded the corner into the biggest open room in the place.
“Taash, this is Bull,” Rook introduced, tapping their arm with the back of her hand. “Dorian said you two should chat. I’m going to find Tarquin. He knows a place that does hair for trans folks, and I’m sick of cutting mine m’self.”
Bull knew Veil Jumpers would do that for Rook, but maybe with being shuffled off after the whole map vs. people’s lives incident left some bad blood there. Not a great idea to let people who resent you get close to your head with scissors. The dwarf marched off and Taash sat down in the chair next to him.
“You knit?”
“Yeah,” Bull answered. He put the incomplete project in his bag, nestled at his feet. The braces on his arm and leg were more streamlined than they’d been in the past, so he was glad yarn didn’t get snagged in them anymore. Didn’t get in the way of keeping his projects close. “Helps with wrist stuff, Dorian says, and I’ve got enough braces for one lifetime.”
“Don’t people think knitting’s for girls?”
“Some do, sure. But they see a big guy with needles and think twice about saying anything. Or maybe a guy sees me and thinks, hey, I wanna do that.”
“Huh.” Taash shifted in their seat, like they wanted to get up and pace, but stayed put. Might’ve been too public for that. Could’ve been a habit they’d gotten used to avoiding because it made people cagey. They turned to him, a sweeping horn narrowly avoiding the wall behind them, and the glinting gold of the left earring catching some lantern light. Taash could clearly talk for hours about jewelry. Josephine and Dorian were probably good for that, since Taash seemed to be on the prowl for a found family. “Even when you’ve got pink yarn?”
“Hey, pink is good! Expensive.” Bull could’ve explained how the dye worked, how it was relatively new and not always in ready supply. That tended to bore some people. He didn’t have a good enough read on Taash just yet to break out the dry topics that got thoughtful consideration from rogue scholars like Stitches. He gestured to his bag of pink yarn and grinned. “They know I’m not cheap, and they know someone rich cares what I’m up to.”
“Aren’t you rich? Retired captain of the Bull’s Chargers?”
Bull laughed, tossing his head back just enough for emphasis. No need to knock out a wall or break a horn tip. He’d gotten pretty far in life without doing that and if he fumbled it, he’d rather have a cool story to go with it. Like the eyepatch.
“Damn right! Took a while for Tevinter to cope with a hulking qunari walking around, even just in Dock Town. They can’t imagine me in a tub full of coins.”
“Doesn’t sound comfortable.”
“Nah, but Tevinter’s all Orlais like that. Just don’t tell ‘em or they’ll get offended.”
“So,” Taash leaned forward to rest their arms on their knees. It was supposed to be casual posture, but tension lined the muscles in their upper arms and across what he could see of their back. Their braid crept over their shoulder to slip in front, swinging between their knees. Had to be a damn good warrior to fight with so much hair to think about. “How much did Rook tell you?”
“Rook told Dorian, who told me. So I only know the basics and through a couple different mouths.” Shrugging one shoulder, Bull went for the casual atmosphere they wanted. “Talk to me about whatever you want, Taash.”
“My mother wants me to respect the Qun. But she’s the one who took me away from all that, so I wouldn’t be what they’d make me.” Taash ran a finger over the ropes around their arms, settling their fingers on a tied-in coin. “I don’t know why she doesn’t get what I’m trying to say.”
“You know how people called you a girl when you were born? It’s an assigned role.”
Taash sat up and nodded. They had a hard expression to read, and that couldn’t have helped their mother cross divides between them. The Qun was pretty literal about some things. Working out emotions was a non-issue because the self wasn’t as important as the whole. Folks were supposed to ignore them completely, and anything else was a failure of your role. Communication was for more tangible hurdles like skill development or physical barriers. She’d have no practice with what you needed to raise a kid, and Taash would be too young themself to sort out that issue. Still was, turned out.
Parents.
Bull had been Tal-Vashoth for a long time, and he still wasn’t sure he understood how any of them were supposed to do their jobs. Seemed like people outside the Qun expected families to wing it. Perhaps it was the Ashkaari still in him, but he couldn’t imagine putting so little thought into something so big. Parents needed help to get it right, and for once, he could do something about that. Koslun or the Maker or whoever knew, he’d give his horn tips after all if he could see his Tama again. Taash had that shot, and they deserved the chance if their mother was up for it. Bull rubbed at his stubble and weighed out the words he wanted.
“Roles are everything to the Qun. You’re a girl or a boy, you’re a warrior, scholar, baker, whatever. You are defined.” Rolling a hand, Bull moved into safer waters. Or at least less painful ones. “Flexibility isn’t really their deal. Maybe she wants to get it, but she’s never had the practice. Either way—it’s more important that you get it.”
“I should give up on her?”
“Nope,” Bull said. “You define you, then she takes the time to see what you’ve figured out. Or she doesn’t. But since she ran from everything she knew to save you? I’m willing to bet she’d take the time.”
Shadow Dragons went about their business, striding through the main room without so much as a glance, and that said more about them than Tevinter. He and Taash could walk through Dock Town without drawing too much attention. Particularly tall people tended to get looks even in Par Vollen, to be fair. But they weren’t about to stroll through Minrathous proper without at least some risk of getting stopped by soldiers. When the sun was up. Things got dicey after dark.
Bull could walk around with Dorian, thanks to the Lucerni before they were disbanded and morphed into the Shadow Dragons, and Mae was good for helping him pick out pretty things. She liked getting her friend to frown at whatever Bull chose from the market. Still, this was good practice for Taash. They didn’t seem to worry too much about what strangers thought—but it was just as likely that a young, brash fire-breather would square up to anyone if they thought people were crossing a line.
For now, Taash was biting thoughtfully at their cheek while Bull worked on another row of knitting. Time to think was a good call.
“How did you know? That you weren’t right for the Qun anymore.”
Bull grunted and capped his needles again. It stung a bit, being Tal-Vashoth, even so many years later. But he could talk about it more easily with distance. Sort of felt like a report.
“It happened all at once. I saw my team, the Chargers, willing to lay their lives down if I asked them to. Then the Qun, who wanted me to get them killed to prove my loyalty.” Bull ran a hand over the shaved stubble of his head, exhaling. “I like to think I picked my mercs because I knew they were doing right by me and the Qun wasn’t. But even then, the Boss—the Inquisitor—had to make that call for me. I didn’t act until I was ordered to.”
“Like the Qun?”
“Like the Qun.”
Taash didn’t stay quiet for as long as last time. He didn’t even need to pick up his needles, and they were ready to share again.
“I don’t think you always needed orders.” Encouraged by his steady gaze, Taash continued on. They didn’t seem too used to qunari adults who listened. He knew there were folks with horns among the Lords of Fortune, according to letters from Hawke about the group founded by his pirate friend Isabela. It wasn’t the same as people who took on the role of elder by the nature of grey hair and sagely wisdom. Taash gestured to him, leaning back in their seat and finally landing a real casual air. “You like pink. Soft things. Making stuff. Hitting stuff. My mother talked about the Aqun-Athlok, people who swap from boy to girl or girl to boy. But that’s still one or the other. You choose things because you like them, and you didn’t worry about the roles.”
Bull chuckled, nodding.
“There you have it, kid. It was always in me. Just needed time to find the way out, plus the right people around me to help me carry that the rest of the way.”
“Like Dorian.”
“My kadan, my Chargers, the Boss,” Bull rattled off names. Good for him that he stopped the list when he ran out of complete fingers on the hand he chose to count on. “Lots of people had my back.”
“Time and the right people. Is that it?”
“It’s not cake, Taash.” They didn’t make that in Par Vollen, but lucky Taash would’ve ran into plenty of sweets over in Rivain. Bull figured the analogy would work. “Can’t give you a recipe or instructions. You gotta feel it out and not lock yourself into anything, or any other expectations on the way.”
“Expectations? Even being nonbinary?”
“Sure,” Bull answered and scratched at the straps across his chest. Looking the part of mercenary never hurt him when he was in places like the Shadow Dragon base. Never knew when he could lend a hand in a fight, but only if people knew he was someone to count on in a short fight. Not just a big guy with large horns. His days-long combat abilities were behind him, and as luck would have it, he didn’t have to fight at all against some Tevene types. Standing there and looking like a scary military captain could be all it took. “People like stuff simple. Patterns to cue them on what to expect. They hear nonbinary, they think you’re gonna be something other than a man or woman. All you need is to be you. Maybe you defy expectations, maybe you don’t. I like fighting stuff and reading smart books. About dragons. Being true is what matters most.”
“You like dragons?”
He laughed and Taash answered with a growing smile. The very first of their chat, and he’d considered that a victory.
“I do,” Bull said. “And I’ve got hours before Dorian’s free.”