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Catch On and Hold Tight

Chapter 10: The Storm Coast, Skyhold

Notes:

hurt COMFORT

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Gatt,” called Bull, a smile carving through his stoic face. Bull had kept it expressionless all morning, a strange enough occurrence that even Varric had picked up on his nervousness. No one had said anything.

Dorian hung back a few paces while Trevelyan shook hands with the elf.

“Hissrad,” laughed Gatt. “I can’t believe you have your own company now.”

“Yeah,” Bull said easily. “They’re good too.”

“You set them up for the easier job.”

Bull only shrugged. “They still have to wipe out the Venatori to gain the position. You’ll see.”

“And we have to climb up a hill to light a signal fire. At least theirs isn’t so steep.”

“Ah, going soft?”

“Was going to accuse you of the same thing.”

“Hissrad?” asked Trevelyan politely.

“It means weaver of illusions.”

“Liar,” said Gatt flatly. “It means liar.”

Bull only smiled, but Trevelyan shot a covert look while carefully smoothing her short ponytail back at Dorian.

Dorian refused to see it. So Bull liked the person who would order him away. Better for him.

“I didn’t realize the Qun had more races than qunari.” Trevelyan’s small talk was strained, but they had to kill time to give the Chargers the time to march.

“Ah, yes, well they recruit us mostly from Tevinter, and we usually serve abroad as the face of the Qun. For some reason big qunari tend to scare people.” Gatt slapped a lazy backhand across Bull’s enormous mantle belt.

The Iron Bull did not smile this time, but neither did he move.

“But you’re Dalish? How did you join the Qun?”

“He didn’t tell you?” asked Gatt in disbelief.

“Gatt.”

“What?” asked Trevelyan, genuinely curious.

“Oh, my whole clan was slaughtered when I was too young to remember it. Was sold into slavery in Tevinter. Hissrad saved my life when I was eight. I was a boy slave to a magister. He took me along for company.”

Dorian unfocused his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to see the nasty look on Gatt’s face. But he could not block the implication. Could not block the truth. Body slaves were common in Tevinter, though child ones were considered vulgar.

“I’m sorry,” said Trevelyan, withdrawing into herself. Her voice was coolly neutral.

“The Qun gave me purpose. A sense of belonging.”

Dorian’s tongue got the better of him.

“Ah yes, without that pesky notion of freedom.”

“More freedom than being a slave.” Gatt was vibrating where he stood, and Dorian realized he was spoiling for a fight.

Perfect.

“The Qun is barbaric.” A blanket statement. He was winding up for a more nuanced one, happy to finally find a vent for his frustrations when Trevelyan interrupted.

“Dorian.”

“What? Don’t you agree?”

There was a long, tense silence where Dorian bared his teeth in a smile he had learned from Iron Bull.

“No,” said Trevelyan, never taking her eyes off Dorian. “Tevinter’s worse.”

Gatt gloated and Dorian looked away, taking the not-so-subtle hint. The Inquisitor’s eyes had softened, just for an instant, so he would know she didn’t mean it. This was politics. Strategic maneuvering. It only made him feel worse. Everyone would be complicit in Bull’s leaving. No one would say a thing as he went.

He refused to look at Iron Bull, who had said nothing during the encounter at all. He was pretending not to hear, searching the far hill for signs of Krem and the others.

“They’ve gained the hill,” he said suddenly, breaking the tense silence. “We should go.”

“Yes,” said Trevelyan, grateful for the lead. “Let’s go.”

“After you, boss,” said Bull, and Dorian wasn’t the only one who caught the faint trace of something in Bull’s tone.

They began to hike upwards and Dorian tried to keep himself busy, but it was impossible. The climb reminded him too much of his first venture out with Bull. His sliding down the slope and ringing Dorian’s spell. His cheeky offering of company. His thumb wiping blood from Dorian’s chin, the assessment of Dorian’s headache with a quick, practiced eye.

Dorian pushed it from his mind with effort, but more memories came flooding in. Bull’s hot breath in his ear as he lifted him from the rubble. Dorian’s hitched half sobs against his chest, holding onto his leather chest harness with numbed fingers as they left the flooded ruins of Crestwood. The first time Bull had complimented him. Expressive eyes. The way Bull had tried to protect him from pushing too hard. That day in the Oasis. The water fight, the burning kiss on his forehead. Emprise du Lion. His stubbornness in pushing on, Bull carding fingers through his hair, warm bodies sharing a cot. Their first kiss, twisted in the soft sheets of Dorian’s bed, Bull dreaming beside him as he slept. The dance in the gardens, the personal one. The soft begged promises of tomorrow. The dragon day. A terrifying day. A drinking day. The steaming water of the tub and the scant privacy of a folding screen. The wild abandon and tumble, writhing wet and warm. The night of the pine needles, mist on Bull’s skin, wet on Dorian’s thigh.

Dorian realized he was about to cry.

“I’ll get it,” interrupted Varric, with such a gleeful tone that Dorian forgot for a moment where he was. Varric was loading Bianca, aiming the crossbow at the unsuspecting Venatori before pulling back and leveling one in a single shot.

“Nice,” observed Bull, his voice approving.

Dorian remembered it was time to fight, and he charged ahead, leaving his thoughts like dropped flowers behind him.

They gained the hill and Dorian could see the campfire the Venatori had been using would be perfect from the vantage.

“You ready?” asked Gatt.

“Give the signal,” said the Inquisitor. Her mask had dropped down now, more a shield than on her back. She had brought a plain unvarnished one today. That made Dorian more nervous than anything she had actually said.

Gatt dropped a small pellet into the fire which turned blood red and shot up a flare against the cloudy sky. Dorian hadn’t noticed it was raining. He was soaking wet.

Out of the mist on the sea sailed the largest tank ship Dorian had ever seen. It was plated in metal with rows of canons lining each side.

“Holy shit,” said Varric.

Dorian only stared in despair. With a ship like that, what couldn’t the Inquisition do? The shots from the Dreadnought were so staggeringly loud Dorian realized he had cramped his ear into his shoulder, trying to minimize the sound. A brief return volley from the beach and then –

“Boss,” said Bull, who hadn’t even been watching the show. “The Venatori.”

The Chargers were standing at their ease on a grassy knoll. Below them, climbing the steep rock, were the Tevinter mages. They outnumbered the Chargers two to one.

“Your men have to hold that position, Hissrad,” warned Gatt. “If they don’t, the Dreadnought is lost.”

“If they hold that position, they’ll die.”

Gatt only looked at him, and something happened in Bull’s face Dorian had never seen before. It was like someone had picked him up by the ears, his face a sieve, and the expression drained out of it and left something gritty behind.

“Bull!” Dorian couldn’t help his cracking voice. “Make the call!”

“No,” said Bull quietly. “Boss’ choice.”

Trevelyan looked up at him, panic scrawling across her features before she could catch it. A mistake for one nobly born to so easily show weakness.

“If you lose the Dreadnought, the alliance with the Qun is off.”

Trevelyan’s face had shuttered back into calm. She turned her head, and Dorian could see the wary figures of the Chargers, not knowing the creeping mages were coming up the incline. Soon they would be out of flight range. There were simply too many, and only Dalish had magic. Dorian had felt her magic too, the way a surveyor might discern how deep a well was. Hers was shallow, barely enough for a few good spells a day, mostly used in nudging and buffing. The Chargers would be slaughtered.

Dorian could practically see the tension in the Inquisitor’s shoulders. The smart choice would be to take the ship. Soldiers died. That was their job, more or less. It would be a political maneuver at a minimal cost. The Chargers were only a handful of people. With Bull they numbered less than 50 men altogether, and on the hilltop there were only eight. It was an acceptable risk, both to Bull and to the Inquisition.

Dorian knew it was smart. It made sense. And he also knew that both Bull and Varric had come to the same conclusion. Bull was holding his face still the way he had been taught. You can never show the cost, he had said to Bull. As if Bull hadn’t always known. Hadn’t learned the exact same lesson. Dorian’s heart felt splintered at the belated knowledge.

So Krem would die. Krem was one man. So the others with Krem were Bull’s longest surviving men. No one survived forever.

But they were the cost. And they were very much here.

“Sound the retreat.” The Inquisitor’s voice was firm, clear, but low.

“What?” Gatt was flabbergasted.

The Iron Bull only looked at her. “You sure, boss?”

“I said sound the retreat.” And this time Trevelyan did look angry, her voice barking with a hauteur she rarely used. Bull had questioned her authority in front of an outsider.

“You’re making a mistake,” Gatt said desperately.

Dorian felt something in him rising too fast and too furiously to even give name to it. His chest was swelling, his arms tingling with sudden lightness.

The Iron Bull raised a long curving horn to his lips and blew two long notes; the retreat signal. On the other hill, Krem raised an acknowledging hand and the Chargers began sauntering away, never knowing how close they had come to the Venatori gaining the slope.

The mages turned their fire instead on the Dreadnought. It was taking spell blasts from two quarters now.

“I am sorry,” Trevelyan told Gatt. “It’s a shame to let the ship sink.”

The Iron Bull looked at her strangely. “Sink?” he said, his hands going up to cover his ears. “Dreadnoughts don’t – “

The world exploded in sound, a concussive force of a bomb causing the metal ship to explode outwards and shred the mages on the beach into ribbons. Dorian was knocked from his feet, sprawling back into the grass even at a quarter mile away. His head ringing, he could hear Varric grumbling as he checked his crossbow.

“A little warning, next time,” Varric complained at Gatt, who had braced for the impact, his hands on his knees.

“You,” Gatt said with sudden venom into the silence. “You.”

Dorian sat up quickly, in time to watch Bull straighten to his full seven feet.

“I vouched for you! I told them you would never turn! Never! I told them you would rather die than become Tal-Vashoth!”

The Iron Bull flinched all over as if the words had been a hail of arrows.

“I believed in you, Hissrad. I –“

“Don’t call him that.”

Both men turned to see Trevelyan pulling grass from the straps holding on her iron cuisses. She straightened, her eyes bright and furious.

“What?”

“His name.” Her voice was calm. “His name is Iron Bull.”

Dorian couldn’t look at Bull in that moment. It was too intimate. Bull was looking at Trevelyan, and Trevelyan was glaring at Gatt.

“I can’t believe you threw away an alliance with the Qun for this,” hissed Gatt.

“Not for this,” said Trevelyan. “For them.”

“What?”

“For them. On the hill.”

“A handful of soldiers? Are their lives worth more than this?”

“Yes.”

Silence.

Gatt was stupefied.

“Allying with the Qun was the smart choice,” conceded Trevelyan. She looked up from beneath her eyebrows, a dark look on her face. “But it wasn’t the right one. Men will die because I order them to. But I would never sacrifice even one for something as meaningless as a ship.”

“Meaningless!” sputtered Gatt. “Meaningless! Thousands more will die because of your negligence! Thousands will be wrecked by the battle on the seas.”

“There is no battle on the seas,” said the Inquisitor flatly. “Unless you are telling me the Qun will make one. The future gain of naval dominance for the lives of men? What kind of trade is that.”

“An obvious one!”

“I agree,” said Trevelyan levelly, her voice so icy that Dorian wished Vivienne was here to see her handiwork in action. Trevelyan could have won a round of applause in the Tevinter magisterium, an accolade reserved for only the most vicious of public set downs.

“And him,” spat Gatt. “His years in Seheron? His years writing reports on nobles in the West? What of it? What will he be now?”

“He is the captain of an elite mercenary troop currently contracted with the Inquisition. He will not be unemployed.”

Dorian could feel something hot on the inside skin of his face, bursting to get out. He thought he might, quite literally, explode.

Bull looked for a long moment at the elf. “Are you going to kill me, Gatt?” His voice was friendly.

“No,” Gatt said after a long moment. “The Qun have already lost one good man today. Doesn’t make sense for them to lose two.”

Bull inclined his head, a gesture of thanks or respect, before Gatt turned to Trevelyan.

“This – this – thing,” Gatt said finally. He wouldn’t even look at the Iron Bull. “He is nothing now.”

“I’m glad our talks so clearly defined the boundaries between the Qun and the Inquisition. As you have pointed out, what is ours and what is yours no longer overlap. I will bid you a good day.”

Trevelyan turned so quickly Dorian almost didn’t regain his feet in time to stride after her. He purposefully went last, making sure to stay between Gatt and Bull in case the elf tried something.

When they had regained the tents in camp after a few minutes of walking, Trevelyan pulled Bull aside, peering into his dazed face. She spoke in a low voice to him before turning him loose. Bull’s face didn’t change; he only disappeared into the rain without a footfall.

“Don’t,” she said, when Dorian made to follow him. “He’s just lost everything.”

They held each other's gazes for a long moment, and then Trevelyan slung off her unadorned shield and left it in the grass behind her.

“Hey,” said a cheerful voice.

Dorian turned quickly. “Krem!”

Krem was unruffled. “Where’s Chief? Figured he’d be upset having the ship go up like that. Who would have foreseen it.”

“It wasn’t an accident.”

Krem frowned. “How do you mean?”

Dorian quickly explained the danger the Chargers had been in, which seemed impossible now that Rocky was pouring a slop of chili onto a battered metal plate. The others were lounging around a campfire, good-naturedly complaining about the mud soaking through their pants.

“And he’s all alone?”

“Yeah. The Inquisitor said to leave him alone.”

“She’s wrong,” said Krem at once. “You can’t leave him like this.”

Dorian narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“The Chief. The Qun’s all he’s got. You know? Some of us, not me, but some, we’ve got family back home. Get letters. Parcels. Bull’s got us, but nobody else. Only funny letters from his bosses. Did he tell you how we met?”

“His eye. Yes.”

“Yeah. And did he tell you he was in one of the best mercenary companies in the region when he was? Gave it all up, for me?”

Dorian shook his head. “No. He only said he moved around.”

“Sure he did. Fisher’s Bleeders. Bloodthirsty lot. But that’s how Chief was in the beginning. Before he got his head on right.”

“What?”

“Bloodthirsty. Angry at everybody and everything. The Qun mostly, but if you ever try to tell him that he’ll bite your head off. He did a lot of nasty business with them. I’m glad I met him when I did. He was still rough then, but had been hit around you know? Like a river rock. If I’d met him at the beginning, he’d have killed me as soon as look at me.”

Dorian half smiled. “Tevinter.” The word was bitter.

“Yeah, well,” shrugged Krem. “I don’t think about it much. Don’t talk about it much. Chief tries going around fixing broken people right? Right. Why? Because nobody ever did it for him. He had to do it all himself.”

Dorian nodded.

“So you have to think about this part now. You’re telling me that Chief lost the only thing that kept him sane all those years doing Maker knows what on that island. And then he nearly lost us, who, as you know – “

“He loves.”

Krem paused. “What?”

“He loves you.”

“Come off it.”

“I mean it. He’s told me.”

“In those exact words?”

“Well, I told him that he loved you.”

“You what?”

“He agreed. He said he did love you, but had never said it.”

“You like me, Cremisius Aclassi, or you like all of us, the Chargers.”

“Both. Thinks of you like a brother.”

Unexpectedly Krem’s eyes welled up and he turned away, shaking his head fast. “Look, if you don’t go after him, I will. He shouldn’t be alone right now. Dangerous.”

“Dangerous how?”

“To himself, mostly. Lost the two things keeping him tethered.”

Dorian blinked at Krem. His brain had gone white and staticky with sudden panic.

“And I can go,” Krem insisted hurriedly. “But I just know you and he…I mean, he’s…he’s fond of you.”

Dorian almost smiled. “Did he say that?”

“No.”

This time Dorian did smile.

“But it doesn’t matter,” Krem hurried to continue. “After he’s been out with you he hums when he washes in the rain barrel. He spends a real long time at the armorer comparing the scrollwork on knife hilts. He trawls the book cart every week for things to read, and I know they’re things you’ve mentioned because they’re almost all Tevinter authors. He actually polishes his boots and washes his clothes. Fucking bizarre.”

Dorian laughed, and a bubble of something hiccuped in his throat.

“He does care, you know. Just because he doesn’t say it.”

“Not enough.” Dorian didn’t mean for it to come out. Didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh.

“What do you mean?”

“I asked him to stay. For me. If the Qun called him back, I asked him to stay.”

Krem was already shaking his head. “Chief wouldn’t do that. Not for anyone.”

“I asked him to stay for more than me. For me, and for you, and for Trevelyan, and for the Chargers –“

But Krem was still shaking his head. “Come on, Dor,” and Dorian realized Krem had never called him that before, had never given him a fond nickname. His heart leaped at the inclusion. “Chief…” he blew out a breath. “He has this incredible sense of duty. And it’s not just to the Qun. It’s to the things he’s set his heart on. Like if he went away, right? To the Qun. I know the Chargers would get more jobs. He’d make sure he was providing for us, best way he could.”

Dorian was silent. He had never considered that.

“He would have written to you, you know.”

Dorian had to look away. He couldn’t speak, only shook his head.

“Try not to rub it in, okay? Don’t be a dick about it.”

Dorian nodded.

“He’s just lost his home, his language, his family.” Krem rubbed the back of his head. He had recently shaved it again, and the stubble there was rough. He sighed out gustily. “Believe me. I understand.”

Dorian nodded again, his mouth and throat tight.

“Fuck. Sorry. I just…I just never expected Chief to…to do something like this.”

“Trevelyan made the call.”

“Yeah, but Chief abided by it. Could have sided with the other guy. Could have gone with him right here right now. And he didn’t.”

Dorian felt his eyes grow hot. He looked down at the grass.

“Go on,” urged Krem. “You better find him. Sooner, rather than later.”

Dorian nodded.

“Oh and uh –“ Krem rubbed his mouth. “Tell him…from me…tell him – you know.”

“Yes,” said Dorian. “I know.”

It took a while for him to find Iron Bull. Dorian wandered the trails hopelessly for an hour. He was never any good at the outdoor skills Blackwall possessed. Could never spot tracks, broken shrubs, footprints. He had been raised in a city of tile and stone. The nearest he had been to nature before running away was on holiday trips or planned landscaping.

It was only after he felt an utter fool did he think to cast a net. It was how he had reached out and found the life force of the deer. Dorian closed his eyes, for the first time realizing the rain was not-quite-rain and not-quite-drizzle, a sort of miasmic breath that plastered down his hair and dripped from his closed eyelashes.

The first things that flared in his perception were tiny smidges of gold hunkering beneath the surface. Mice, or rabbits, or squirrels, or whatever small woodland creature would live in this place. Then there was the camp, bright flares of people in his mind, hard to distinguish beyond the density of their life force. Dorian turned a slow circle, casting wider.

He opened his eyes.

He should have known where Bull would go.

Dorian’s heart was in his throat as he retraced their steps back up the cliffside to the long-dead Venatori fire. The Iron Bull was standing very near the edge of the cliff, shoulders slumped, looking out at the churning sea. Whatever was left of the Dreadnought had sunk or buried itself as shrapnel in sand of the beach.

“B-“ The first attempt he couldn’t even form the name. “Bull.”

The Iron Bull didn’t turn. Didn’t even seem surprised, though Dorian realized he had likely sounded like a wheezing windbag climbing the slope. How perfectly opposite from the first day they had met.

Dorian picked his way carefully around the bodies of the men still left sprawled in the dirt. Likely wolves would come for them, after Leliana’s scouts were done peeling the useful things off the bodies. Boots, for instance, were always in short supply. Belts. Intelligence. Potions.

“Are you…” Dorian’s voice failed him as he looked up at Iron Bull. From his perspective at Bull’s shoulder, he was looming, tall and lit from beneath in the setting sun, casting dark shadows across the crevices of his face, the deep trench scars on his head. Dorian studied Bull’s face the way he would have studied a corpse. His father had shown him his first corpse when he was nineteen. It had once belonged to his mother.

Dorian had worn the same look Bull had on his face right now.

“Bull,” Dorian forced his voice to be calm. “Please look at me.”

There was no response. No indication Bull had even heard him. He was only staring at the sheer drop in a familiar way that was twisting in Dorian’s stomach.

“Bull,” he said again, reaching a tentative hand towards a large elbow. He expected Bull to jerk it away, but Dorian laid it on the bare skin, surprised it was so cold.

How long had Bull been standing in the rain?

There was a slow shifting of movement. Dorian tried to dig his nails in as Bull shuffled his feet closer to the edge.

“What are you doing?” Dorian could hear the nervous hysteria creeping into his voice. “Stop. Please. Stop it.”

But Bull wouldn’t even turn.

“Krem says to tell you he loves you,” Dorian tried desperately, sure it would work. “I told him what you said. I told him that you – that he –“

Bull wasn’t listening. He was steadily unbuckling the harness of his chest strap.

“Stop. Stop! Bull, stop. Katoh. End. Stop.”

Then Bull did look at him, with a slow head swivel that sent thrills coursing down Dorian’s spine. “I’m trying,” he said calmly.

Dorian didn’t remember when he had started crying, only that it was very hard to breathe. “You can’t,” he said. “You can’t.” He was tugging on Bull’s arm uselessly, as both of them knew. Bull was several times stronger than Dorian on his best day.

“What is there left for me? Without the Qun. As Tal-Vashoth.”

“There’s me,” Dorian begged. “Please. I’m not – I know I’m not – but I’m something – there’s Krem – there are people you’ve helped. People who rely on you. I just want you here with me. And I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m not enough. And I’m sorry that I was…that I made you…that – fuck. I’m sorry Trev-“

“Don’t,” said Bull, cutting an eye towards Dorian. “Don’t say that. That’s the one thing I’m not sorry for.”

He finished unbuckling his shoulder straps and tossed the harness over the edge of the cliff. They watched it tumble down to the rocks below. Then, to Dorian’s surprise, Bull stepped back. Only a pace, but it was something.

“W-what-“

“Poison. Gatt slipped it under. Noticed late.”

The Iron Bull’s skin was burned a darker grey beneath where the straps had lain.

“It was slow acting. Would have been dead by morning.”

“I-“ But Dorian could find nothing to say save the obvious. “I thought you were going to-“

“Would you have caught me?”

Dorian glanced back at Bull’s face, and this time he was staring down, his expression indifferently curious.

“Yes.”

“With magic?”

“Yes.”

“But you already fought today. Do you have enough?”

Dorian wanted to lie to him, wanted to assure him, but knew from Bull’s expression he knew the truth.

“No.”

“And you were going to do it anyway?”

“Yes.”

“Any deer around?”

“No.”

“So what, life magic?”

“Probably.”

“You would have used up part of your life to save mine?”

“I would have used it all.”

There was a breathless silence where Dorian cursed himself internally for being so dramatic, for saying the thing that was true but not offering Bull the softer lie.

“Why?” Bull’s voice was frustrated, even as he turned his chin to the horizon, watching the beach.

“Why what?”

“Why would you give your life for mine? Especially if I didn’t want mine?”

“Because you’d have done the same.”

“What?”

“You’d have done the same. For me. You’d jump in front of anything, take any hit.”

“Yeah, but –“

“But?”

“But why would you do it for me?”

“Ah,” said Dorian, seeing it all at once. He very tentatively moved his hand from Bull’s elbow to his limp fingers. “Because I care about your happiness and safety more than mine own.”

“But why? I’ve never done anything to earn that.”

“It’s funny,” said Dorian slowly. “Humans, and other cultures like humanity…you don’t have to earn your affection. Don’t have to earn your place.”

The Iron Bull’s leg was shaking. It was his bad knee, and Dorian was still aware how close to the edge they were. How heavy Bull was. If he jumped and didn’t try to save himself how much energy displacement it would cost. How little magic Dorian had left.

“Then…” Bull groped for words. “How do…how do I earn the Chargers?”

“Earn them? You’ve already earned them. A hundred times over. You showed them compassion when they were hurting and they repay you in loyalty.”

“And the Inquisitor?”

“You don’t have to earn your keep. You know Trevelyan would let you stay in Skyhold for free as long as you liked.”

“But I can. Earn it, I mean.”

“Right. With mercenary teams and intelligence-“

“I’m not a spy anymore.”

Dorian couldn’t help it. He laughed a short barking laugh that seemed to startle Bull more than anything. “You’ll be noticing things until the day you die. It’s just in your nature. But if you don’t want to compile reports for Leliana anymore, I’m sure they’d understand.”

“They’d let me?”

“Let you, Bull you’ve got inroads no one else has. You know you’re good at your job. Maker help me, I think you’re good at everything you set your mind to.”

Bull didn’t rise to the easy bait, which worried Dorian.

“I don’t want to be here,” he said softly.

“Well, yes, it’s this horrid rain. Makes everything cold and wet, and you’d better let me put a poultice on your chest.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Dorian swallowed. “I know.”

“But I don’t want to be at the Qun either. Keep thinking about what it would have been like. I’d be in the Dreadnought hold. Maybe Gatt would have taken my place. Would have been…too cut up about it. They’d have to reprogram me.”

Dorian tugged futilely on Bull’s hand, trying to draw him away from the cliff’s edge. But he wouldn’t move, rooted to the spot by the ashes of the fire that had signaled the Qun.

Dorian wondered where Gatt was now. If Bull sent up a flare, changed his mind, if Gatt could come get him. If he hadn’t already sent a raven. If it was far, far too late.

They both knew it was.

“What am I going to do.” The words weren’t even a question, but quiet and defeated.

Dorian breathed in a huge shaky breath. “Well, for starters, we’re going to walk down this hill. Then we’re going to put you in a tent and force you to dry off. You’re not as hot as you normally run you know, you might get sick-“

“Dorian.”

Dorian fell silent.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“But there’s no answer to that,” Dorian said desperately. “Even if we were doing our best to come up with a plan, it wouldn’t come to pass. All we can do is a little at a time. The next thing. And then the next. Until you can plan.

“Tal-Va-fucking-shoth.”

“You’re still you.”

“The Iron Bull, huh?” asked Bull with an edge. “A name picked at random. Becoming my whole identity.”

Dorian shrugged. “Kind of like everyone else then.”

Bull almost smiled. Dorian tugged on his hand, urging him down the slope.

“Krem is waiting, you know. Thinks you’re dashed to pieces on some rocks.”

“You wouldn’t have let that happen.”

“No,” said Dorian, skating thumbs over the back of Bull’s hands. “I wouldn’t have. Come on. It’s a really excellent chili tonight.”

“Really excellent,” Bull said, with a mocking attempt at humor. His feet moved the first steps away from the edge that they had taken in hours.

Dorian was nearly delirious with joy. “Yes,” he promised. “As much as you-“

He was interrupted tugging on Bull’s hand by Bull’s other arm coming around. For a wild, insane second Dorian was sure Bull was hitting him. But then the palm settled softly on his face, and Bull had tugged him a few steps closer, and bent down.

Bull’s face was slick with rain and freezing beneath Dorian’s lips. The kiss wasn’t particularly good, but it was particularly memorable because Dorian threw both his arms around Bull’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against Bull’s neck. “Maker, I’m so sorry. Please just…just stay. We’ll do it a bit at a time.”

“I can’t believe,” Bull puffed a laugh into Dorian’s hair. “Krem sent you after me.”

“You can thank him later.”

“I’ll do something later.”

They almost smiled at one another, but then Dorian tugged on Bull’s hand again, and didn’t let go until they were back in camp.

 


 

Dorian didn’t see much of Bull the next day. The cart to Skyhold was a full day of traveling, morning and night. The Chargers all piled into one cart together, everyone making excuses to sprawl against Bull, complaining good-naturedly at the lack of space. Even Grim leaned against Bull’s leg as he sharpened weapons on the floor of the cart, everyone else on the narrow bench seats jostling and passing around food and alcohol.

Dorian rode with Varric and Trevelyan in a separate cart, though the three of them watched the cart in front of them often, distracted by the rowdiness, the boasting, the drinking songs, the laughter.

“You made the right choice,” Varric offered, apropos of nothing.

Trevelyan sighed. “I know it was the right one. Let’s just hope my advisors don’t hang me for it.”

“They won’t,” said Varric, patting Trevelyan’s knee consolingly. “Cullen would have done the same. He never wastes a life.”

“I don’t know,” said Trevelyan unhappily.

“And Josephine is definitely on your side.”

“Leliana?”

“She’ll be disappointed,” said Varric. “Probably. The Qun’s spies are helpful. But she did just ally with the Crows, so it might not be too bad.”

“Ugh,” Trevelyan dropped her head between her hands, propped on her elbows. “Why does everything have to be so hard?”

“You can’t make everyone happy all the time.”

“I know. But I wish I could anyway.”

“And if you had made the other choice?” Dorian asked quietly. “And let them die? There’d be one cart back to Skyhold right now, and Bull would be here next to you.”

Trevelyan breathed out a shaky breath, then tapped once, twice, trying to find Dorian’s hand in the dark. They caught fingers briefly, and she leaned back.

“Yeah,” she said. “Okay.”

 


 

Dorian hovered in the light soaked grass beaming out of the open door to the Herald’s Rest. It was dark, but the sounds of celebration inside were loud. He knew he was welcome; would be haled by the Chargers with a roar, a slosh of raised drinks. But still, he hesitated.

The amber syrup of candlelight was warm and inviting, but it also meant he would have to face the Iron Bull. And he and Bull hadn’t been alone together since the cliff side. He didn’t want the first reunion to be quite so public. He turned to go.

“Dorian!”

Dorian turned, knowing even before his body had started moving, that the voice wasn’t Bull’s. It was Cole.

“Hello,” he said politely.

“Hello. Are you leaving?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“The Iron Bull wanted me to give you a message.”

“He did, did he?” Dorian was amused that Bull had seen a glimpse of him from his perpetual vantage, able to see even out of the door.

“Yes.”

“All right then. What does he say? Does he want me to come in?”

“No. He said you can come in if you wish. But that he’ll meet you on the battlements tomorrow morning, after a meeting with the Inquisitor.”

“Oh.”

“And he said to drink this.”

“Drink –“

Cole passed him a small vial of clear liquid.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Thanks.”

Cole beamed. “You’re welcome,” and popped out.

Dorian wandered out of the light drenched grass to lean against the stonework. He examined the vial. It was clear, the liquid inside an amber brown. There was enough for one swallow.

Could be poison a practical voice in his mind whispered.

He unstoppered the bottle and downed it without giving credence to the rest of the thought. Bull wouldn't poison him. The swallow tasted repugnant. Something very like a syrup used in Tevinter to induce vomiting in dogs and small boys who drank something they shouldn’t. He very nearly retched, but held a hand in front of his mouth and breathed hard through his nostrils.

He didn’t feel any different.

Dorian made his way back to his quarters with something like vague disappointment. Of course it would be ludicrous to expect Iron Bull to abandon his entire family for only Dorian. But he had rather hoped Bull, realizing Dorian was lingering outside, might suddenly appear, press him against the cold wall and kiss him senseless.

Dorian kept monitoring himself for any ill effects from the vial before he fell asleep, but then sleep crept on him unexpectedly. He awoke to daylight with a feeling of panic. He needed to be on the battlements. Cole had told him no set time, but-“

He got dressed, hurrying but still taking care with his appearance. He lined his eyes, tinted his eyelashes, gelled his mustache. He made sure to wash with the citrus scrub Bull liked, even feeling foolish as he did it.

It was midmorning when he rushed out his door and along the open walkway circling the courtyard. He followed it to a flight of stairs up, turned left towards Cullen’s office, and then stopped, breathless, seeing the Iron Bull and Trevelyan talking quietly. He tried to melt inconspicuously against a wall, but a flick from Bull’s bright blue eye over the distance let him know the qunari knew he was there.

Bull’s face changed for the slightest instant to one of surprise before he turned and grabbed a scout in Inquisition garb and broke his neck so quickly, so seamlessly it was a moment before Dorian realized there was a second attacker, slashing over Bull’s already burned chest with knives. Bull threw him off the parapet as Dorian finally found his wits. A third man, near Dorian, was turning, a blowgun to his lips.

Without conscious thought, the man incinerated like a torch. There was a brief scream of agony before Dorian willed the mine to ignite, blowing bits of him over the wall.

Bull glanced at him again, then at Trevelyan, who was still standing stunned and immobile.

“What-“ she managed.

“The Qun,” said Bull calmly.

“Should we-“ Trevelyan gathered herself, cinching her ponytail. “Should we retaliate?”

The Iron Bull’s face split into a grateful grin. “Nah. They probably won’t send more.”

Probably?” Dorian asked, annoyed.

“Not now. Not in the Inquisition camps. Maybe if I’m back out there. Less protected. But here? Two guys? That’s not a threat. That’s a formality.”

“Three.”

“Fine, three. I could have handled all of them.” No modesty, but no lie.

“What if the blades were poisoned?” Trevelyan asked worriedly.

“Oh the blades were definitely poisoned. A slick one too. Puke your guts up literally. I’ve been dosing myself with the antidote since the Storm Coast.”

“How did you know they’d use that poison?” asked Dorian.

“I didn’t.” Bull grinned. “Been drinking cocktails of all the antidotes.”

Dorian nodded; he understood what Bull had given him last night. The fact Bull was worried they’d come after Dorian spoke volumes about what Bull hadn’t said in his letters to the Qun.

“Bull, are you –“ Trevelyan was still deeply shaken. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah boss, I’m good.” When he said it, Dorian reached a hand for Trevelyan’s shoulder. She jumped, but then leaned into the contact gratefully.

“I-“

“See, this is the problem. Your face. Your expressions. We train for years in how to hide and detect microexpressions. You don’t have to feel sorry for me.”

Trevelyan paused, and both Dorian and Bull watched as she pulled calm back over her face. “You know –“ Trevelyan was never good at the mushy stuff, and she stumbled gracelessly, social training be damned. “You know you’ll always have a home here. A job too I mean, and-“

“I know,” said Bull. “Thanks boss.”

Trevelyan glanced between them, then at the mess. “I’ll go tell Leliana what happened. She’ll send someone to clean this up.”

“We’ll be around,” Bull said vaguely.

Dorian smiled and let Bull pull him down the walk to one of the ruined towers. He followed Bull inside as his eye roved the small space. Someone had put a bed in here, and Dorian was fairly certain Bull had either maneuvered it himself (impressive but massively difficult), or he had directed Cole to place it.

“I know you don’t like being in the Rest,” said Bull, his voice low behind Dorian’s ear. “I thought we could talk.”

“Talk,” said Dorian lightly. “So I see.”

“I can get a table and chairs in here if you’d prefer.”

Dorian sighed, but walked across the debris strewn floor to the bed and sank on the edge of it. He expected musty clouds to float up from it, but instead the sheets smelled clean.

Bull sat beside him and Dorian braced himself. He wasn’t sure what for. For Bull to tumble him on the bed. For Bull to yell at him. For Bull to pull at his clothes, pin his wrists. Dorian felt something like burgeoning panic but tried not to show it.

He felt a very slow finger running under the length of his jaw. Mulishly, he refused to turn it until Bull tilted his head up and back, forcing Dorian to stare at the way the shafts of light through broken bits of stone haloed Bull’s horns.

“You are enough,” said Bull simply.

“What?”

“What you said on the cliff. If I were to jump. That you would have caught me. That you would have given your life for mine. Earlier, that you’d suffer anything for me. And you stand there and beg me adding names to the list as if all you were was only an addition. Only a weight.”

Dorian felt something prickle in his eyes and he tried to look away, tried to yank his chin free, but Bull’s grasp was firm, a thumb coming up along Dorian’s chin to brush the lip the way the Iron Bull first had when Dorian had split it.

“You didn’t have to tell me the rest of it. Even if the Qun was gone. Even if the Chargers were. You would have been enough.”

Suddenly Dorian was shaking his head, panicking. “No, I’m not,” he tried to explain. “I’m not enough. You shouldn’t let go of the other things you should-“

“I’m not letting go, Dorian. I’m not sawing off the links to life to hang on you with the weight.”

Dorian closed his eyes. “I didn’t mean – I’m sorry.”

“But you did catch me.”

“What?”

“You’re winning.”

“I don’t like this game anymore.”

“Yeah,” said Bull, his voice smiling so much that Dorian opened his eyes to catch it as it disappeared under the eye patch. “Me neither. I’m a sore loser.”

“So it would seem.”

“I guess I didn’t realize how clumsy I’d gotten.”

“Not your fault,” said Dorian, finally using his hands to detangle himself from Bull, rubbing the burning place where his fingers had been. “How are the burns?”

“What?”

“On your chest?”

“Oh, the poultice helped. Thanks.”

“Of course.”

A tense silence.

“Dorian.”

Just as Dorian said: “You don’t have to-“

“Don’t have to what?”

“No, it’s okay you go first.”

“Don’t have to…”

Dorian sighed gustily. “You don’t have to thank me. You don’t have to feel indebted because of this stupid catching game or because I said I loved you. I understand we’ve got a limited time. You’re right in that we should minimize the damage.”

“Did I say that?”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Dorian?”

“What.”

“It’s okay to be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” snapped Dorian, and then made a face at how Bull’s face had softened. “Also, what do you care? You hate talking about feelings. Trevelyan hit you in the stomach with a bat after the Fade. Pain focuses or whatever. If I ask if you’re alright you just try to tousle my hair and tell me to shut up.”

“It’s the hair thing that gets you, huh?”

“I work very hard on the look to have it so easily ruined.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll touch something else.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, even as he smiled inwardly. If Bull didn’t want to talk feelings that was fine by him.

“But I do think we should just lay the ground rules.”

“Fuck. I thought you’d be done with this already.”

“Look, we did the same thing for sex. Makes sense.”

“I don’t,” began Dorian, then forced himself to be silent. I don’t want to was childish just because he feared Bull was about to break his heart. Bull had been through a lot. The least he could do was listen.

“I don’t talk about that stuff because I don’t think it matters,” said Bull practicably. “What matters is…hmm…what I do. How I treat people.”

“You’re a good captain,” Dorian told him honestly. “They-“

“I’ve been caught up in how I think of things.”

Dorian stopped talking. It was rare for Bull to interrupt except in drunken bragging sessions.

“I didn’t think how this might be hard for you.”

“Hard, ha.”

But Bull only half smiled. “Do you remember the night in the forest?”

Dorian had to look away to master himself. So it came down to it then. He cleared his throat. “Of course.” He tried for light but it came out heavy.

“Do you remember what I said to you?”

“No.”

Kadan.”

“Oh.” Dorian did remember. “Yes. I meant to ask you. What does it mean?”

“It means,” Bull hesitated. “My heart.”

Dorian felt his eyes and cheeks and face and heart growing hot. He made a fist, hoping to cover his mouth, but Bull caught it in his own. They could both feel it trembling.

“I loved you before I knew what love was. When the only words I had for it was my own. My heart.”

Dorian shook his head. Wanted to explain how impossible it was. That of course he, Dorian, had been foolish enough to fall in love with a qunari, mostly out of curiosity and maybe out of spite and then – and then – Bull had been in the Qun. It was always doomed to failure. The wide-open possibilities now dizzied him. Made it too real.

“What’s going to happen with us?” Dorian asked, his lips numb like he was suddenly, incredibly, incomprehensibly drunk.

“Well, first I’m probably going to roll you up in this bed,” said Bull with a cheeky smile. “And play with you for hours. And then we’ll get lunch. And then we’ll probably have to talk to Red about the mess on the battlements.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you say to me? That there’s only the next bit? And the next after that?”

“Ugh, I’m so annoying.”

“A real brat, I’d say,” purred Bull into Dorian’s ear.

Dorian laughed unwillingly, yanking his ear to his shoulder, and then Bull’s hand was on his neck, careful he didn’t hurt himself.

“How’s the head?”

“Fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

The Iron Bull smiled and pulled Dorian’s hips closer on the bed so that he slid into Bull’s warm skin. He held him there, with Dorian’s head against his chest. Dorian wondered if Bull’s heart was steady. If this was the pace it normally went, or if he was just as nervous as Dorian.

“What are you thinking about?” Bull asked softly.

“How I want to do this every day until I know the sound better than my own.”

Bull swallowed, the sound loud in Dorian’s ear, but then said huskily. “That’s not hard, knowing something better than Dorian Pavus’ own heart.”

Dorian turned his face up, scrunching his nose. “That’s Lord Pavus, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh?” Bull cocked an eyebrow. “And what am I then, a courtesan?”

Dorian hesitated, a glimmer of a smile playing around his mouth. “A gentleman of the bedchamber,” he decided at last. “That would shock the most people at court, I think. No made up title. Just a descriptor.”

“Okay then,” said Bull, and his arm around Dorian’s waist prepared him for the way Bull tilted them both back, tumbling them with a practiced ease from long repetition.

Dorian smiled into the space between he and Iron Bull’s noses. Bull’s nose was crooked and knotted from being broken so many times, but Dorian bumped it fondly with his own until Bull’s lips found his.

“A year ago, I hadn’t met you,” Dorian murmured, stroking the steep scars of Bull’s forehead with a feather light touch. ”How strange.”

“Yesterday,” Bull began, then fell silent.

Dorian kissed him.

It was a few seconds before Bull responded to Dorian’s quick tongue, his eager mouth, but then he came alive, growling low in his throat and scenting along Dorian’s neck. He groaned, and Dorian smiled smugly against Bull’s throat, congratulating himself on being clever.

Dorian’s top hit the floor in seconds as he toed off his boots, Bull doing the same.

“What do you need?”

“Need?”

“Yeah.” And Bull rippled his hips into Dorian with a self-satisfied grin. “Need.”

“I-“

“You better not say nothing or what am I around for?”

“I need you.” Dorian said it honestly, slightly too raw for his usual jesting. “I need to know you’re here. And you want to be here.”

Bull stopped his skimming hands for a moment, staring down at Dorian’s face. Very gently he brought one up to Dorian’s hair again, the gesture unmistakably reminiscent of the night in Emprise du Lion. “Kadan. This is where I need to be.”

“Need?”

“Yeah.” Bull’s smile was slow and warm. “You gonna make me say it?”

“It would be nice.”

“Tough,” Bull chuckled, and then kissed him, pulling Dorian’s seeking mouth after him until Dorian’s throat was long and tight, shivering and drawing goosebumps as Bull brought a careful finger down it.

Dorian felt his body tense beneath Bull’s sudden weight and Bull smiled against his face. “Already?”

Dorian nodded. “I-“ he tried to say, cleared his throat. “The night in the forest.”

Bull stopped stroking across Dorian’s bare torso with the knuckles of one hand. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I know.”

Dorian curled his hand up behind the Iron Bull’s neck. “Kiss me,” he said instead of the three words burning behind his lips.

The Iron Bull complied.

Bull took his time working down Dorian’s arching body with his tongue. He pulled off Dorian’s pants with a chuckle, then twisted them together into a makeshift rope. “Hands or feet?”

“Hmm,” said Dorian, but Bull was already moving, already twisting around his ankles, holding his legs pressed closed. “You’d better not stretch those.”

“I’ll buy you new ones.”

“You will, will you?”

The Iron Bull didn’t respond, only shirked his pants and crawled naked and heavy up the bed beside Dorian. “I want you to remember this,” he murmured, tracing lazy circles with a nail around Dorian’s nipple.

Dorian flexed against the sheets, a sound under his breath.

“And I’m going to challenge myself.”

“Challenge yourself.”

“Make you come untouched.”

Dorian used his free hands to grab both of Bull’s horns, arching off the bed in lust and anger and disbelief as he kissed him furiously. “You will not.”

“Hmm. You’re already riled up. High emotion does that.”

“Fuck you.”

“What? Just because I don’t talk about it doesn’t mean I don’t know about it. It’s something that-“ we learned in the Qun hung between them, but Bull smiled a crooked smile. “I know it,” he ended simply.

“I won’t let you,” said Dorian stubbornly.

“And why not?”

“Pride.”

“Think I can’t?”

“More afraid you can, actually.”

“Because I definitely can.”

“Fine. But –“

Katoh. Yes, you should. If you really –“

“I –“ love you almost slipped out. It seemed a bad time to say it again. “I’m ready.”

Bull started with Dorian’s mouth, carefully tracing behind teeth with his tongue, exploring the shell of Dorian’s ear with the tip and filthy words, brushing his own shaft against Dorian’s eager lips, his hands grasping. When they grew too desperate, or strayed towards his stomach, Bull easily held him down. Dorian’s hips pushed into the bed.

Bull moved to his chest, tracing marks into his skin, nipping playfully as Dorian grew hard against his thigh, feeling the air cool beneath as he curved upwards with thrusts of his hips.

“You’re so beautiful,” breathed Bull, as he paused to watch Dorian’s heartbeat fluttering through the base of his stomach. He kissed the spot and Dorian keened, arching into the contact.

“What – about – you – “ he hissed as Bull easily pushed his bound legs up to his chest and slithered down the bed, holding his knees up over his horns.

“We’ll get there,” Bull promised, and then his tongue was circling Dorian, spiraling ever tighter as his knees spasmed in their bindings and Bull chuckled as he bucked his head under Dorian's legs. He pressed handprints to the underside of Dorian’s thighs, automatically shifting his grip to align with the bruises left on Dorian’s skin.

Dorian gasped at the intimacy. The memory.

Then Bull’s tongue was pressing into him, hot and wet and obscene. Dorian strained against the bindings, trying to force his legs open, but his hips only flexed and he grunted with the effort. He felt more than heard the chuckle of hot breath on his skin.

Bull began scratching gently with one maddening fingernail, tracing faint lines up and down Dorian’s thighs as his tongue lapped at him. Dorian squirmed away from the contact, trying to direct it where he wanted and finally Bull pressed on the rim and Dorian grunted a quick, high huff while his body jerked.

Bull slipped the finger in, stroking down with even but firm pressure so that Dorian was straining to push his spine deeper and deeper into the bed trying to angle the finger towards the very top, to the throbbing center of him. Instead of complying, Bull pulled carefully out. Without warning, he poured a small vial of oil down Dorian’s lap, soaking his thighs and sheets as Bull massaged circles into his skin, up the crack of him, pushing a fingertip in and out while Dorian fought his restraints. A second finger joined the first and Dorian let out a burst of air he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Breathe,” Bull reminded him, amusement lacing his voice.

Dorian didn’t dignify it with an answer.

When the third finger pressed in, Dorian flexed against it. Bull’s other hand rubbed his stomach, and Dorian whimpered of the sensation of Bull reaching through him.

“Breathe. You’re tight because of the restraints, but you can, I promise.”

Dorian forced himself to breathe out and the third of Bull’s fingers slipped in. His breath stuttered, hips jerking. Bull slowly pulled in and out, not quite touching Dorian’s prostate and definitely not close enough to his cock to take the prickling edge from the trickle of precum smearing his stomach.

Bull finally removed his fingers and Dorian held his breath. Bull slapped his ass smartly and Dorian jumped, taking another long breath.

“Good. That’s good.”

Dorian tried not to flush up under the praise, but Bull kissed the inside of one of his ankles and he lost the battle miserably.

“So responsive.”

“Are you-“

“Yeah. I was.”

“Fuck.”

“It’s what I’m going for.”

Dorian whimpered a laugh even as Bull pulled his bound legs up over one of his shoulders and lined himself up. Pushing into Dorian made him aware of every bone in his hips, the tilt of his shoulders. The blossoming pain mingled with indescribable pleasure. And then Bull was in, frozen in place, sweat standing out on his brow.

“Fuck,” said Bull, and his voice was very strained. “Fuck. You’re tighter…you’re more…”

“I’m okay,” said Dorian, his voice equally thready. “This better work. I – I need to-“

“I know. I’ll take care of you.”

The raw intimacy of the line had Dorian throwing back his head, eyes squeezed shut against the lights bursting behind his lids as Bull began to flex his hips, moving scant inches at first, then to hold Dorian’s leg in the crook of one arm, his other hand pulling Dorian’s thighs closer.

Dorian could feel pressure building in him. It wasn’t the usual pressure from the base of his spine pushing out of him. Instead it was a sun, coiling inside the pit of his stomach until he wasn’t sure how he would contain it. He gritted his teeth against the sensation.

“Please,” he managed in a whisper.

“Just hold on,” Bull grunted back, increasing his pace to a ferocity that made Dorian hiss out a long stream of Tevine profanities behind his teeth.

Bull even wasted breath to chuckle.

Dorian came with only a gasp, on an intake of breath that halted the flow of his words, that seemed to go on and on and he was confused at the sensations, confused at the hot wet feeling of him until he realized Bull had come too, that Dorian was still shivering around him.

Bull gently lowered Dorian’s legs, rolling onto his back with shuddering gasps then turned his head to one side to check on Dorian. He slapped a hand to Dorian’s stomach which caused Dorian to shrimp up with a gasp.

“Wh-“

“Breathe, kadan. I swear, most people can do this without thinking.”

Weakly, Dorian backhanded him, but let his hand rest where it fell across the broad chest, and the Iron Bull raised the inside of his wrist to his lips.

“Aren’t you going to take these off me?” Dorian asked peevishly, gesturing at his legs.

Satisfied, the Iron Bull pulled an arm back beneath his head, pulling up a knee as he watched Dorian lazily. “Nah.”

Dorian tried to reach his legs, failed, and finally sat up. He swayed, immediately dizzy, and was grateful for Bull's hand settling on the small of his back.

“Breathe,” Bull reminded him.

“Made me – wheeze for – you,” Dorian smiled tiredly.

The Iron Bull’s smug grin grew wider.

Dorian sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over, working at the knots with tired fingers.

The door to the rampart banged open and he glanced up, instinctively curled over.

“Dorian what were you –“

“Oh! My!”

“Fuck.”

Cassandra, Josephine, and Cullen had burst in.

“What on earth,” Cassandra fumed, as if she hadn’t been there on the Dragon Day.

“I…I can’t feel my legs,” Josephine mumbled politely, her clipboard hanging limply from one hand.

Dorian checked over his shoulder. Bull hadn’t bothered changing position, only now his face was practically split in a self-satisfied haze.

“I – ah- fuck,” Cullen managed eloquently. “Sorry. Sorry, both of you – er.”

“What are you doing here?” Dorian asked waspishly, forced to peer up under his eyebrows from where he was untying bound legs.

“Ah…” Cassandra was pushing a stunned Cullen behind her. Cullen was arching his neck towards the ceiling so much that his burning red ears looked like fruit against his black stole. “Cole told us where you were.”

“And did he tell-“

“No. Obviously not.”

Dorian smiled insouciantly. “Is there something you need help with?”

“I…ah…I…” stammered Josephine. “I wasn’t aware that…that you two…”

“For heaven’s sake, Dorian, put your pants on,” snapped Cassandra.

“I’m trying,” Dorian complained, and Cullen walked face first into a wall trying to sidle out the door.

Dorian glared over his shoulder. “A little help?”

The Iron Bull only sucked in his bottom lip lasciviously. “Nah.”

Nah? You moronic piece of shit-“

“…flings are all very well and – I mean, you said yourself you aren’t a saint – but – really I must protest that – “

“It’s not a fling,” said Dorian, with a triumphant tug on the knot freeing the pants. He sat up in satisfaction, then hunched back down at the furious look from Cassandra and the mortified one from Josephine. He could only imagine the state of his stomach right now.

“Oh,” squeaked Josephine. “I see.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Fine, for all of you, I love the Iron Bull. We aren’t just fucking. We’re in a relationship.”

“Shut the door on your way out,” Bull called politely to Cullen, who was trying to feel his way to freedom with a gloved hand, the other clamped over his eyes.

“Bull, is this true?” asked Cassandra.

Bull ponderously sat up, then surprised Dorian by yanking him backwards around the middle and buyring his face in Dorian’s neck.

“Yeah,” he said happily. “Seems I caught myself a mage.”

“Oh you cheat.” He turned around in Bull’s grip, ignoring the affronted gasp of Cassandra, the quickly snapping door pulled by Josephine. “You’ll have to try harder than that to get your score up.”

Kadan. We’re just getting started.”

Notes:

whoa y'all must think i'm some sort of MONSTER with these multiple comments voicing fear I'd kill the Chargers. Even in my current playthrough playing the worst of all my Inquisitors who makes ALL The asshole choices who LOVES the Chantry and the Templars and the Circles - even THEN I couldn't kill the Chargers for a dumb boat. Plus I saw on Reddit you have to kill Bull in Trespasser if you keep him loyal to the Qun and I'm like???? murder found family for naval dominance what kind of dystopic bullshit is this. anyway yeah there was never any danger of that and i'll probably blanket statement say i would never write that nor a sad ending fic. though i have been accused of sad fics for angst but hey i write what i love. hurt and a big helping of comfort.

Thanks for reading!

Notes:

Literally all reviews go in a special folder I read when I'm sad. Thanks guys <3