Chapter Text
“Who are you?”
“Dead.”
---
Iron Bull severed its head in a single, rage fueled swing from his battleaxe.
He swallowed back the thick bile crawling up his throat, staring down at the body on the forest ground. His chest tightened painfully as he heaved in his breaths and waiting, hoping, for the demon to reveal itself, for the body to shrivel into the remains of an envy demon. It didn’t.
A Qunari body laid there in front of Bull. Several arrows pierced the torso, burn marks scorched gray skin, deep gashes marred long limbs, and now its head lulled away from the body, its single unseeing eye remained open. It bled a lot, bright red blood staining the browns and greens of the foliage under foot. It didn’t bleed like a demon.
Bull took a step back and turned away from the corpse, heading towards where Skinner dragged Dorian away in the middle of the fight, sheltering Dorian behind a tall cropping of stones. Once Dorian was taken off the battlefield by Skinner, the Qunari fought with no sense of self preservation. Before, the Qunari tried to keep the Chargers away and looked for some way to escape with Dorian, but once Dorian was taken to safety, it fought without restraint. It was primarily attacking Iron Bull and seemingly was unable to strike down Krem, even though for one terrifying moment he had a clear opening.
Krem was ruthless and pressed that to his advantage when Bull took a slash to his ribs. With the full force of the Chargers at his back, Krem managed to down the beast, bringing it to its knees and allowed Bull take the killing blow.
Skinner already ran off to fetch Stitches, they didn’t want to move Dorian any further without Stitches giving the ok that it wouldn’t hurt him further. Dalish was kneeling beside Dorian, she downed a lyrium potion and a warm green glow enveloped her hands as she started scanning Dorian for injuries. Her eyes were red and brighter than usual.
Crouching down beside Dorian’s unconscious form, wrapped in someone’s cloak, Iron Bull touched his cool cheek. He clenched his jaw tightly to keep it from trembling.
“It looks like Dorian left a pretty clear trail from wherever he was being held,” Krem reported quietly to Bull, standing close.
Bull forced himself upright and nodded. “We’ll go check it out after we get Dorian to camp.”
He couldn’t tear his eye away from Dorian, looking pale and vulnerable lying on the forest floor with a collar locked around his neck. All Bull wanted was to hold Dorian, warm his cold body, and wait for Dorian to wake up, say something sarcastic about Bull being late, and give Bull a kiss. Glancing back at the decapitated corpse, Bull didn’t know if that was possible.
Stitches arrived with Skinner and assessed Dorian’s injuries with Dalish as he instructed Krem to help bind the weeping wound on Bull’s rib cage. After putting a splint on Dorian’s swollen leg, Stitches deemed him ok to move and they brought Dorian back to their camp at the base of the hill, where Stitches worked on cleaning out the nasty wounds on Dorian’s feet in his tent before infection settled in.
Bull followed Stitches into the tent, watching as his company healer worked. “How is he?”
“Besides his feet, his ankle is broken, knee’s bruised pretty badly, and he’s malnourished and dehydrated,” Stitches reported, wrapping Dorian’s poor feet.
Bull blinked back the sudden burning in his eye as he remembered all the times Dorian pressed his cold toes against his leg, trying to warm them as they slept together. His footsies must be so cold.
“He’s not going to wake up anytime soon, Chief. Go ahead with Krem and see if you can find the key to this damn thing,” Stitches motioned towards the collar around Dorian’s neck.
Bull just nodded and ducked out of the tent to collect Krem.
Iron Bull and his second trudged up the hill, following the bloodied footprints that were shadowed by much larger imprints made by boots. Fury spiked in Bull at the thought of Dorian running terrified through the woods and without any clothing or shoes to protect him from the elements, while he was being stalked by a well-equipped Qunari. He also felt pride towards Dorian as he and Krem followed the long trail that Dorian left behind, his kadan managed to make it quite a distance before he was caught.
The trail led them to a clearing with a small cabin and barn. Dread settled in the pit of Bull’s stomach as they moved closer to the cabin, which didn’t improve when they entered. Inside, the bed was a tangled mess of sheets and blankets with shackles attached to the headboard and to the posts at the foot of the bed. There was a small pool of clear oil and shards of glass near the bed. A series of half full potion flasks lined the counter in the tiny kitchen area in a neat row, the contents of which Bull recognized from when he turned himself in for reeducation.
“Fuck, Chief,” Krem breathed.
“Let’s see if we can find anything useful.” Bull managed to pick up his feet and moved about the small space.
The cupboards were well stocked with food and provisions, but yielded nothing of interest. Bull poked around the canvas bags left on the floor and found weapons, several battered journals, books, and extra clothing for the Qunari, but no clothing for Dorian. He did find Dorian’s jewelry, there was a necklace and a couple of rings, an enchanted one to boost Dorian’s spells and a worn silverite ring that was a gift from Felix. In the false bottom of one of the bags there was a key with a rune etched into it, similar to the ones on the collar locked around Dorian’s neck.
“Found one good thing,” Iron Bull held up the key before securing it and the jewelry in his pocket.
Krem sighed with relief. “Thank the Maker, I was worried about how we’d get that damn thing off of him.”
Continuing his search, Bull found another bag with a couple bundles of carefully copied letters, written in an even and sickeningly familiar hand. All of the letters were from or addressed to Dorian, some of the letters Iron Bull wrote to Dorian were there, along with a couple from Adaar, and a few from Josephine. A larger bundle contained every letter Dorian wrote to Bull while he was away in Tevinter, all diligently copied. From the creases in the paper, it looked like those particular letters were read multiple times, especially the ones where Dorian described how he wished to ravished once they reunited and the ones where Dorian wrote about how much he missed Bull.
“It was copying Dorian’s mail,” Krem scowled. “How come you didn’t notice your letters were opened?”
“I wasn’t looking for it and there are techniques for opening and resealing letters,” Bull answered, having used many of those techniques himself.
Looking under the bed, Bull spotted a small trunk that he dragged out and placed it on top of the bed to open. There were a couple lengths of soft rope, a plain leather collar, bottles of oil, and several dildos of various sizes, made of glass and polished wood. Bull’s heart hammered in his chest and his hands balled into fists to stop the shaking he could feel in his fingers.
“They look unused.” There was a quiver in Krem’s voice.
That was a cold comfort to Bull. He dumped out the contents and knocked along the bottom of the trunk, finding another false bottom. Inside was a curious looking amulet that Bull thought he may have seen before, but couldn’t place it. He tucked the amulet away in his pocket, hoping that someone back at Skyhold might know about it. Then Bull hurled the trunk across the room where it made a satisfying smack against the wall and fell to the floor with a loud thump. The noise made Krem stiffen and tilt his head.
“Hey, Chief, hear that?” Krem stomped his foot on the floorboards, producing a faint, hollow noise.
“There’s a cellar,” Bull caught on immediately.
They had to go outside to find the entrance to the cellar on the backside of the cabin and saw that the cellar wasn’t any more encouraging than the cabin itself. There was an extra set of shackles, another collar, more premixed potions and the ingredients to make more, and a large sum of gold. Bull found the shredded remains of Dorian’s clothing in a corner, his fingers gently held the torn ribbons of red dyed silk, soft cotton, and supple leather, reconstructing in his mind the outfit Dorian wore before he was taken.
Krem opened a large trunk sitting on a table. It was neatly packed with never worn robes, cloaks, tunics, trousers, smallclothes, socks, and shoes, all made in silks, velvets, and other fine cloth and in Dorian’s size. There were also unopened jars of Dorian’s favorite cosmetics and scents, books that were in Dorian’s taste of literature, and shiny new jewelry. In that trunk was everything Dorian would need to be comfortable until coming home or until being settled into a new life.
“What the fuck was that thing planning?” Krem fumed.
“To take Dorian away and to take my place.” Bull stared at the trunk, before forcing himself to meet his second’s eyes. “We should take something for Dorian to wear.”
“No!” Krem snapped angrily. “I’ll give the Altus the shirt off of my back, but we’re not taking this shit.” He knocked the trunk to the ground, clothes tumbled out and little glass jars shattered upon impact. “We got the key to the collar, that’s all we need from that thing.”
Bull nodded and remained silent to let his second seethe, then Bull came across a saarebas mask and an arvaarad control rod. The sight of them instantly repulsed him. He used to think of them as a necessary evil, to keep mages under control and protect everyone else from demons, but he couldn’t see them anymore without thinking of Dorian with his mouth sewn shut and a husk of his former self.
Bull didn’t know what the Qunari planned to use them for. It was clear that the Qunari wasn’t trying to convert Dorian or make him into a weapon, but the mask and control rod might have been a last resort in case Dorian wasn’t responding to whatever it was that he was doing to Dorian. Or maybe the Qunari just liked the look of the mask and got off on the complete control over a mage, over Dorian, it represented. Before he knew it, Bull was smashing the mask against the cellar wall as he screamed in fury.
The mask was in unrecognizable shambles by the time Bull dropped it and he snapped the control over his knee.
“Hey Krem, how would you feel about burning this place?”
“Fan-fucking-tastic.”
---
It wore Iron Bull’s face. It kidnapped, tortured, and chased Dorian wearing his face. Bull stepped towards it, his battleaxe heavy in his hands.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Dead.” The thing acknowledged, using Bull’s voice.
And Iron Bull thought, Yes, you are.
He swung the axe.
Then, something sounding very much like Cole, whispered in Bull’s head, He wants to consume you, he misses being the Iron Bull.
---
It was him. He was the one who kidnapped Dorian, drugged him, terrorized him, and nearly broke him. When Iron Bull thought about it, really thought about the whole situation, there was only one explanation. There was no demon, no twin brother as Rocky helpfully suggested, it was only him. Krem denied it vigorously the entire way back to Skyhold, but no amount of denial could change the truth.
When Bull closed his eye, he could picture the Qunari perfectly. The face was nearly identical, the same scars, the same missing eye, but there were more lines around the eye and mouth, white was scattered in the facial hair, and there was a chip in the left horn. The Qunari was older, weathered, but Bull knew the truth when he looked at Dorian’s captor.
Iron Bull kidnapped Dorian.
Adaar just about confirmed his suspicions when Bull dropped the amulet he found on her desk the morning after they returned to Skyhold.
“Aw fuck, that’s Alexius’s time magic amulet thing,” Adaar groaned.
She stared at the amulet, unwilling to touch it. She was briefed on the little that they knew of what happened and Bull kept up regular correspondence with her while they were searching for Dorian. It was hard for her not to join them, Adaar ached to go and find her friend, he could easily see that before he left with the Chargers, but an emergency with lingering unsealed rifts called her away.
“I found it in the cabin where Dorian was being held.” Bull rubbed at his eye, dry from a lack of sleep after Dorian started screaming the night before. Bull didn’t sleep for a single minute after he was woken by Dorian’s panicked screams, chanting the word katoh.
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“So, you time traveled to kidnap Dorian?” Adaar sounded confused. “Why the fuck would you do that?”
“I went mad,” the words were thick in his mouth. “Boss, if it’s me, if I came from the future to hurt Dorian, I need you to—”
“No,” Adaar said sharply, feeling like a punch in Bull’s gut. “We’re not going there. What we need to do is find out why you went mad.”
“I think only Dorian knows that,” he grunted, not exactly eager for that particular conversation, but he needed to know.
As it turned out, the truth was a little less painful than Bull anticipated, but it wasn’t good, not at all. He and Dorian sat in Vivienne’s old space overlooking the great hall for an afternoon tea. It gave them privacy, but it was wide and open to help Dorian not feel trapped. Bull purposefully positioned himself so that he was closest to the balcony and made sure that he wasn’t blocking either exit.
Across from Bull, Dorian sat with his injured leg stretched out and elevated and his other leg curled up close to his body, careful to not put pressure on the bottom of his foot. He was wrapped in thick robes with a high collar that didn’t dare expose any skin below the top of his throat with the exception of his hands. Bull found that he missed usual the tease of Dorian’s bare shoulder and the hint of collarbone in his open collar, but he didn’t say anything about it. Dorian smiled tentatively at Bull, drank only half a cup of tea and played with his food, not once did one of those tiny cucumber sandwiches make it anywhere near Dorian’s mouth.
“It was me who took you, wasn’t it?” Bull asked, his words coming out strained. “He wasn’t a demon.”
“He wasn’t you,” Dorian was firm and determined, “he was a Hissrad from a different time, one who lost everything.”
Acid churned in Bull’s stomach. “Fuck, Dorian, I did this to you.”
“No, he wasn’t you, that’s the only that thing kept me sane, amatus.”
“When you look at me, kadan, what do you see?”
Silence dragged on as Dorian closed his eyes and tears rolled down his cheeks. “Hissrad,” he finally whispered.
The air was knocked out of Iron Bull’s lungs and he very nearly cried himself at the confession. He wondered if Dorian would ever look at him again and only see Bull or if Hissrad would always remain.
“Hissrad lost the Chargers and betrayed the Inquisition for the Qun,” Dorian explained, tears silently sliding down his face. “He didn’t think he’d survive, but he did and he couldn’t live with what he did, or at least he couldn’t live with betraying his Dorian.”
Bull’s chest tightened and he ached to wipe the tears from Dorian’s cheeks, to hold him, but he clung onto his delicate teacup and listened.
“His Dorian moved on with Cullen and had a chance to be happy,” there was a tremor in Dorian’s laugh. “He didn’t know that Hissrad was still alive, the knowledge probably would have destroyed him, so Hissrad decided to take a jaunt across time and space. He persuaded Alexius to help him.”
Dorian’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes were red and shiny, and he took time to draw in deep, long breaths.
“He thought he was going to protect me from you, make it so I’d never be betrayed.” The tears started to come down faster. “I … I told him that you’re Tal-Vashoth, but he … he still …”
“Dorian,” Bull interrupted softly, “you don’t have to continue.”
Dorian shook his head as he wiped at his eyes with a handkerchief, discarding the square of silk on the table. “He wasn’t you, but he tried to be. He wanted to take your place. He kept drugging my food and telling me that I was safe, that he was my amatus, that ...” Dorian trailed off and composed himself. “I was … I was losing you. When I … I knew I didn’t have much time until I … Well, I managed to escape for a while and you saved me.”
“You saved yourself, kadan.”
“It was a joint effort,” Dorian gave Bull a brittle smile.
Another silence overcame them. It was thick and suffocating, both weighed down with what happened, that someone wearing Iron Bull’s face nearly broke Dorian. They should have been thankful to be in each other’s presence, Bull thought, should have been in the middle of life reaffirming sex for at least a week, where Bull’s hands and lips would never leave Dorian’s body. But everything was tainted now.
The quiet ended when Bull placed Dorian’s jewelry on the table. Dorian stared at the items for a few seconds before he realized what they were and the last time he saw them. The enchanted ring and necklace disappeared into a pocket in Dorian’s robes and the silverite ring slid back to its place on the middle finger of his left hand.
“What else did you find?”
Iron Bull’s face remained still and he didn’t answer.
“What else did you find in the cabin?” Dorian’s voice hardened.
He wanted to spin a convincing lie and tell Dorian that there was nothing of note, or to tell a half-truth and leave out the more terrifying details. But despite the pain it would bring, the last thing Dorian needed was someone manipulating him again. So Iron Bull told Dorian. About the copies of his letters, the trunk filled with things for him to start a new life with, the journals, the amulet, the sex toys, the stash of gold, the supply of potions, and the mask and control rod. By the time he finished, Dorian was shaking and his face was buried in his hands.
Later, after Adaar and Sera collected Dorian and took him to Adaar’s quarters, Bull entered the room he shared with Dorian and packed a few things, changes of clothing and extra boots, a jar of horn balm, and a book he was in the middle of reading. He knew he wouldn’t be returning to the room any time soon. He also took the time to open the drawer at the bottom of his dresser, inside was a variety of silk scarves, ropes, oils, a collar, and a set of manacles. Grabbing the manacles and collar, he took them with him as he headed outside, tossing them over the battlements without a second thought.
He wasn’t surprised to see Cole walking along the edge of the battlements, looking down at the shackles and collar tumbling down the side of the wall. “They used to bind Dorian to you, but now you’re afraid that they will bind him to Hissrad forever.”
Bull didn’t reply.
That night, Bull sat in his old quarters. The musk of dust and stale air was thick from disuse, the big gaping hole in the ceiling was long fixed, and the furniture was covered with large sheets of cloth. Not bothering to uncover a chair or the bed, Iron Bull sat on the floor, his back leaning against the wall, the fire crackling happily in the hearth, and a bottle of strong, amber colored liquor of questionable origins sat between his knees.
That was how Krem found him. His second took the time to uncover the chair closest to Bull and sat down heavily upon it. Krem came prepared with a beaten up flask already in hand that he took deep, long drinks from.
“It was me,” Bull finally said after long minutes spent without either of them speaking. “I did this to Dorian.”
He explained what he learned from Dorian, only pausing to take swigs from his bottle, and Krem listened.
“It wasn’t you,” Krem said after Bull said his piece. “That fucking thing wasn’t you.”
“Krem—”
“It wasn’t you!” Krem’s voice raised, his knuckles were white from the tight grip he had on his flask.
Standing up, Krem moved from his chair and sat down on the floor next to Bull. His shoulder bumped into Bull’s arm, the wool of his shirt scratched Bull’s thick skin. The last month wasn’t easy on his lieutenant, Iron Bull knew that Krem cared deeply about Bull and he also liked Dorian. The search for Dorian was long and demoralizing, and then to find another version of the Iron Bull as Dorian’s kidnapper was a terrible shock. The journey back to Skyhold wasn’t much better with Dorian’s outbursts of terror and confusion, suffering through withdrawals from the drugs that were fed to him and fighting festering infections in his wounds.
It took a lot out of the Chargers and especially Krem, who was used to being the one to smooth things over and the voice of levelheaded reason, but something else troubled Krem. Bull could see it in the way Krem stared at Bull, the way his jaw worked as he unconsciously ground his teeth, and the tension he carried in his body.
“That thing was not you,” Bull’s lieutenant repeated, leaning his head against the wall. “It hurt Dorian, did twisted things to him, things you’d never even think of doing.”
“It’s in me. Under the wrong circumstances, that’s what I will become.”
“You won’t.”
“But if I do, you have to—”
“No! No, you won’t become that thing.”
They sat in silence again, both sipping on their drinks.
“It’s kind of nice to know though,” Krem said abruptly, leaving his thought half finished.
“What is?”
“You were so worried that you’d go mad without the Qun, but now you know that you’d have gone mad if you stayed.”
Bull snorted out a laugh and held his bottle of liquor up, clanking it against Krem’s flask and toasting to that little insight.
---
Qunari don’t dream, but they do remember.
“Who are you?”
“Dead.”
As Iron Bull slept alone, he remembered the sight of Hissrad kneeling in front of him in the forest, his numerous injuries bleeding, arrows sticking from his torso, and stinking of burnt flesh. Hissrad’s one eye stared in the direction where Skinner dragged Dorian to safety and Bull saw that there was nothing left in the man in front of him.
Hissrad was already dead and Iron Bull just helped him take the final step.
He wanted his Dorian to kill him, Cole told him, you gave him release from the pain, the Iron Bull.
---
Bull spent a lot of time up in Vivienne’s old space. He liked to think about what kind of cold and cutthroat advice she would give him if she had not returned to Empress Celene’s court. It brought him an odd sort of comfort, even though he knew she would most likely advise him to let Dorian go. But Bull liked that Vivienne respected his strength and intelligence, taking an amused interest in his affairs, and that she cared more about him than she did most people. He could use her stern council, if only to hear her put him in his place, but he didn’t write to Vivienne, he didn’t know where to start.
Being up there also meant that he was in easy reach of the library, but in a part of the stronghold where Dorian wasn’t forced to go past him when going up to his usual nook. Sometimes Dorian couldn’t stand to see Bull, other times he sought out his company and Bull liked to be close by. Dorian seemed to find comfort in it as well, even if he didn’t see Bull at all.
When Dorian needed Bull’s company, he would lie on Vivienne’s lounge, his still healing leg stretched out in front of him, and he talked. On good days, Dorian talked about anything and everything.
“Amatus, did you hear that Adaar received three different proposals of marriage just this week? I’ve never seen Sera so consumed with planning such elaborate pranks.”
“I’m sure you did everything in your power to discourage her from pranking Adaar’s suitors, kadan.”
“Of course, I told her that she certainly shouldn’t do anything to that Orlesian nobleman’s food, which he is most particular about, and possibly the most annoying of all of them.”
On less good days, Dorian felt the need to explain.
“He … He never forced himself on me, not like that, but I … I touched myself for him, to make him unchain me and to distract him so I could attack him and escape.”
“You did what you had to, kadan.”
“Kaffas, I know that! I’m not asking for forgiveness! I just … I want …”
“It’s ok, kadan, I get it. Hey, did you manage to kick him in the balls when you were unchained? I really hope you did.”
“It was probably the most satisfying kick of my life.”
On bad days, Dorian dwelled.
“Maker, why did he have a control rod? He was … gentle to a point. He never … I would’ve never thought …”
“It might have been part of a half thought up plan he had, but disregarded it when he came up with something else.”
“Do you really think so, amatus?”
“I honestly don’t know, kadan.”
On worse days, Dorian was confused.
“Amatus, when should we travel to Antiva? Early summer, I think, it’ll be plenty warm by then to lie on the beach.”
“We’re going to Antiva, kadan?”
“Yes, you said you wanted to take me there, that I’m working too hard and …” Dorian stopped, all the color drained from his face and his eyes became unfocused.
Iron Bull got up immediately, making sure he didn’t move towards Dorian as he darted for the exit towards the library. Thankfully, Sera was hanging out in Dorian’s nook and she spotted Bull right away, understanding when Bull jerked his head in the direction from which he came. She scrambled out of the chair, her face grim as she brushed past Bull, heading towards Dorian.
He took Sera’s spot in Dorian’s armchair and forced himself not to cry.
Every once in awhile, Dorian would send a note to Bull, requesting his presence and Bull would walk across the hallway to the library and took the empty seat next to Dorian. They usually spent that time in silence as Dorian read and Bull was just grateful to be near him.
Many times though, Dorian didn’t come to him or call on him at all and Bull was ok with that, despite how much it pained him.
Why would Dorian want to spend time with his torturer? A little voice whispered to Iron Bull on those days.
“Don’t listen to him,” Cole warned Iron Bull when those thoughts invaded his mind. “He wanted to become you, to consume you. Don’t let him.”
For once, Bull thought Cole was doling out good advice. Struggling to listen to Cole and stomp down that voice, Bull occupied his time with sharpening and mending his weapons, attending to his correspondence, reviewing reports from the Inquisition’s network of spies, and reading books. Krem often joined him, bitching about someone in the Chargers, working on his own weapons, sewing little stuffed nugs to send to the Divine, and on one ill thought out occasion, they sparred. Krem’s shield flying over the edge of the railing, nearly hitting Josephine and some nobles she was talking to, put an end to that.
On one such day, Bull was in the middle of writing to Leliana, the Divine, on everything Dorian told them about the possible Qunari invasion when he heard hushed giggles echoing through the great hall. It was late enough that many people retired to bed or sought out entertainment in the tavern, so the sound bounced off the walls and rang through the hollow space of the hall.
Iron Bull didn’t need to look to know that one of the people laughing was Dorian. His voice was readily recognizable and the uneven stride of his crutches told Bull that he was just down the stairs. Hugging the wall and peeking over the edge, Bull could see Dorian and Cullen making their way through the hall, laughing and hushing each other, and covered in a white dust. It was the first time since they found Dorian that Bull heard him laugh like that.
Cullen happened to look up and undoubtedly noticed Bull, but he didn’t miss a beat and escorted Dorian in the direction of the room that Iron Bull once shared with his kadan.
“I thought if maybe Dorian made his own food, he’d be more inclined to eat,” Cullen explained to Bull needlessly the next day as he came to drop off a report, obviously going out of his way to speak to Bull. “I know a couple recipes and I tried to teach him, emphasis on tried,” Cullen gave Bull a half smile. “I think most of the ingredients ended up on us.”
“Did he eat?”
“More than he has.”
“Good.”
Cullen rubbed the back of his neck and a look of guilt settled over his features. With Cullen, that expression could mean that he felt bad that Dorian was spending time with him instead of with Iron Bull or it could mean that they slept together. Iron Bull couldn’t tell which, because of how hard Cullen was on himself.
If Dorian wanted Cullen, Bull wasn’t threatened by it. He wasn’t a jealous or possessive man and if Dorian wanted to fuck Cullen, then his kadan had Bull’s blessings. Bull honestly would prefer to be a part of it, but he’d settle on just hearing the details if it made Dorian happy. As long as it helped Dorian heal, helped him come back to Iron Bull, then he’d be content. If Dorian didn’t come back to Bull, well, then Bull would make sure that Cullen treated Dorian the way he deserved.
“There’s nothing between us, I mean, other than friendship,” Cullen said suddenly.
“I know, Cullen.”
“I just want you to know what I’m looking out for him and for you.”
“I know and thanks.”
Cullen turned to leave, but Bull called out his name, making the commander pause. “Yes, Bull?”
Bull almost asked Cullen what Adaar and Krem refused to even hear out, but decided that he couldn’t put it on the commander. Cullen was a man who had seen and done enough, and if Dorian needed Cullen in the future, then Bull couldn’t bloody Cullen’s hands with slaying a mad beast.
“Keep teaching Dorian how to cook,” Bull said instead. “I haven’t heard him laugh like that since he left for Tevinter.”
“I will,” Cullen smiled, the scar on his mouth pulling on his lip.
A lot of people were looking out for Dorian and most of them reported back to Iron Bull. He didn’t ask anyone to check up on Dorian for him or to tell him anything, but everyone filled him in without question.
“He sleeps like shit,” Sera told him, she was spending the night with Dorian more often than not. “Always cries for you. Crap that the thing that did this to him looked like you, yeah? But it means he misses you, loves you, though he doesn’t like to say it.” She gave Bull a grin and for some reason stole one of Bull’s pens on her way out. It ended up in Dorian’s nook in the library with a small hoard of other items Sera lifted from Bull.
“His leg is healing nicely, it’d heal faster if he’d take the elfroot potions I made for him. I try not to pressure him into taking them though, the last time I brought them up he nearly hyperventilated,” Stitches said one day after coming up to sit with Bull and Krem.
“He ate a whole sandwich for lunch and half a pork chop for dinner. Though I may have promised him his choice of wine from Skyhold’s cellar,” Adaar gave Bull an encouraging smile as they shared a drink in the tavern, her shoulder knocking into his.
“His focus is much better, he actually beat me at chess today!” Cullen exclaimed while they sparred, looking cheered at his own defeat and smacking Bull sharply on his leather covered shoulder with a training sword.
“Closing my eyes and Hissrad fades, hiding further in the shadows, he’s there, but not where he can hurt me. Bull is there, just across the hall, there, comforting, warm, protecting me. I just have to cross the hall and I am home,” Cole muttered under his breath, balancing on the railing of the balcony as Bull flipped through a book that he was no longer reading.
Some of the reports were less upbeat.
“There is a matter of great sensitivity that I wish to speak to you about,” Josephine said in the privacy in her office in the company of Adaar and a letter in her hand. She handed the offending piece of correspondence to Bull. “It is from Dorian’s parents, requesting his return to Tevinter to recover at the Pavus estate in Qarinus.”
They couldn’t keep secret the fact that Tevinter’s ambassador to the Inquisition was missing for nearly a month and that Dorian wasn’t in a state to perform his duties. The news traveled quickly to his parents and now they wanted him to come home, presumably to take care of him, but more likely to keep him from the influence of the Inquisition. Hearing from his parents could break the progress Dorian was making, but Bull also loathed to deceive and to keep secrets from him.
Thankfully Adaar was around to take that decision away from him.
“Tell them to fuck themselves,” she snapped. She patted Bull’s arm and added, “I’ll talk to Dorian about it.”
And the entire time Dorian mostly kept Bull at arm’s length, until he didn’t. Until he sought out Iron Bull and the Chargers in the tavern and invited Bull back into their room.
“Come lie down with me, amatus,” Dorian told Iron Bull and nothing could be more terrifying or heartening.
The morning afterward, as Bull finally left their room after sharing a comfortable breakfast with Dorian, his lips swollen from his kadan’s kisses, Cole walked along the battlements with him, saying, “He doesn’t want to belong to Hissrad, he doesn’t want Hissrad to win. He wants to come home.”
--
At the time Iron Bull didn’t know that he was looking at what could have been. A man broken by the demands of the Qun, completely stripped of all the emotional ties that made him who he was and was desperately grasping for what remained. He was what Iron Bull would have become if he had stayed Hissrad.
“Who are you?”
“Dead.”
Iron Bull stared at the ceiling as Dorian started whimpering in his sleep, curling his body away from Bull’s in the bed. His heart tore at the sound and he was paralyzed with fear that touching Dorian would only make things worse.
Dorian is afraid of Hissrad, not the Iron Bull.
--
“That thing wrote out a lot of shopping lists,” Krem muttered, flipping through pages of one of Hissrad’s journals. “Maker’s balls! How many types of lotions does Dorian use?!”
Iron Bull kept the journals before they torched the cabin, not fully knowing what Hissrad was at that point and not willing to give up information that might shed light on the mystery. Now he kept the journals because he wanted to make sure that Hissrad wasn’t working with anyone. It was unlikely, but he wanted to stomp out any lingering traces of Hissrad. He asked Krem to look over them with him, there was something about the journals that made Iron Bull not want to be alone with them as he read them and he was thankful that Krem agreed. They sat in Bull’s old quarters, going over the stack of journals that were filled cover to cover.
Leaning back in his chair, Bull started to tick off the difference lotions Dorian used on his fingers. “One for his face, a couple different ones for his body, another for his hands, one for his feet, and this other one I really like that he uses for his—”
“Ok, yeah, I really don’t want to know.”
So far all they found were lists of supplies written out in Common for food, furniture, different locations to keep Dorian at, locations to run away to, herbs and bottles for potions, books, medical supplies, and items that Hissrad thought Dorian would want after his reeducation. It was all terribly familiar to Bull, thinking about all the lists he wrote out, supplies he needed for his mercenary crew, items he needed shipped into Seheron, and lists of possible spies and enemies.
Other journals held carefully thought out plans, detailing possible new lives for Hissrad and Dorian in Antiva, Rivain, and Nevarra. There were plans to move Dorian to other cabins in case the one he ended up using was compromised. There were even written out plans on how to carry out Dorian’s reeducation, which neither Bull nor Krem wanted to read. But there was nothing of substance, until Krem held one of the journals out to Bull.
“This one is all in Qunlat,” Krem frowned.
Taking the journal, Iron Bull saw that these were not lists or plans, but rather full entries recording the day’s events, and he started quickly skimming through the pages.
—the clearing is remote enough and the cabin will work out nicely—
—still waiting until the opportunity is right. Killing the retainers isn’t an option, he will never forgive me for that—
—some struggle, but subdued quickly and without harm. There are no apparent negative effects from the magebane or the sedative—
—woke up briefly during the ride to the cabin, was confused and scared, but I was prepared for the situation. He is resting comfortably now—
—figured it out on his own, my clever boy, and he almost managed to leave the cabin without my noticing. He fights me beautifully, he’s so fiery—
—very nearly took him then and there, he’s almost too gorgeous to resist, but I held myself back. It will be well worth it when he offers himself to me—
—responding so well, I won’t need to resort to the control rod, but the mask might be worth keeping, he may like it or will learn to—
—called me amatus twice and Bull once today, seemed unaware of it—
—won’t be long now before he finally submits—
—will be mine again—
Slamming the journal shut, Bull could hear the rush of blood in his ears and the raw rage he experienced after they found Dorian was building up in his chest again. He tossed the journal to the floor, unable to even touch it. The callous wonder that Hissrad experienced in Dorian’s torture shook Bull to his core, the unrestrained pride and joy at Dorian’s deteriorating mental state disturbed him greatly, and it was all to supplant Iron Bull in Dorian’s life. Hissrad wasn’t thinking of Dorian’s needs, only of his own.
Bull forced himself to remember that he didn’t write those words, despite the identical handwriting. He needed to remember that he didn’t kidnap and try to reeducate Dorian, that he would never do something like that. But the man who did wore Bull’s skin, spoke with his voice, was cut from the same cloth, and still descended into madness. If things had gone differently for Iron Bull, if he let the Chargers die, he would be the one writing those words and thinking those thoughts.
And was he so different from Hissrad? Hissrad who sought to not only to take Bull’s place, but also to assert control over Dorian’s very mind, was it so different from how Iron Bull sought control over Dorian in bed? He got off on Dorian, a powerful mage, submitting to him, letting him tie the mage up in delicious knots, and denying him his release until Bull was satisfied that Dorian had been good enough to earn it.
Bull reminded himself that it was what Dorian needed before, to let go of the tight cloak of pride and aloofness that shielded him and relinquish the control he held onto so desperately. Currently though, Dorian was stripped of all of his defenses and left open and vulnerable like an exposed nerve, all done by someone with Iron Bull’s cunning and intimate knowledge of Dorian. Iron Bull did this to him.
“No, not you. Just a dark reflection, inside he was all wrong. Not you. Don’t let him consume you.” Cole’s voice whispered in Bull’s head.
“Chief?”
The sound of Krem’s voice sliced through Iron Bull’s thoughts and brought him back to the present.
“He was writing about what he was doing to Dorian.”
“Shit,” Krem cursed. “How about we burn all of these?”
“Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.”
Krem started a fire in the fireplace and they sat together, feeding the journals in one at a time and watching the flames consume them.
“We seem to be solving a lot of our problems with fire lately,” Krem observed as he tossed another one in.
Iron Bull could still smell the stench of the burning corpse after he and Krem returned from setting the cabin on fire and made their way back to camp. At some point, Dalish, Skinner, and Rocky went back to the corpse and decided to burn it. Not out of respect, but to eradicate any trace of the Qunari.
“It’s a good solution,” Bull grunted.
Dorian saw Iron Bull’s tension that night as they settled in for bed. His hands ran over the expanse of Bull’s chest and his fingers worked at the buckles of the leather harness Bull wore, Dorian liked to touch Iron Bull, but unexpected touches from Bull could set Dorian off. Bull kept his hands twisted in the sheets of the bed where he sat, letting Dorian undress him.
“What’s wrong, amatus?” Dorian asked, looking Bull in the eye as his palm brushed at the spot under Bull’s ribs.
“Krem and I were going over those journals I told you about.”
Dorian faltered for a moment, but regained his composure instantly. “And?”
“We ended up burning them.”
“It’s for the best, I suspect,” Dorian replied lightly.
“I think so too.” And that was the last they spoke of it.
The harness came off, then the eyepatch, and Dorian unlaced the front of Bull’s pants before sliding them off, leaving Bull in only his smalls when Dorian leaned in to kiss him. Dorian was balanced heavily on his good leg as his other leg was still healing, though more quickly now that he started taking the elfroot potions Stitches mixed for him. Iron Bull wanted to grab Dorian’s hips and help him balance, but he kept his hands where they were.
The kiss was a simple press of Dorian’s lips against his, then a questing tongue slid against Bull’s mouth and he followed Dorian’s lead. With some maneuvering, Dorian situated himself on Bull’s lap so they were face to face, his injured leg stretched out comfortably on the bed and the other hooked around Bull’s waist, and his arms around Bull’s shoulders. The buckles and sharp edges of Dorian’s robes dug into his bare skin, while the softness of the silk and velvet tickled his chest and stomach. Dorian grabbed his wrists and settled Bull’s hands on his waist, much to Iron Bull’s relief to be given permission to touch, even if it was through layers of clothing.
Dorian still didn’t wear his robes with the shoulder bared, but he did start wearing ones where the collar was left open displaying his throat and collarbone, and with shorter sleeves to show off the muscles of his forearms. The last time Bull saw Dorian naked was when they were traveling back to Skyhold, his body trembling as Bull helped Stitches change Dorian’s vomit and sweat drenched clothing towards the end of the worst of his withdrawals. Now he felt Dorian’s body through the robes and leggings, his lean arms, ribs that were too prominent, one leg strong and the other weakened from disuse, and the hardness of his arousal.
There was nothing hurried, Bull went at the pace Dorian set, accepting the slow, hungry kisses from his kadan and his hands squeezing at a too narrow waist as Dorian lazily rolled his hips against Bull’s. Within a few minutes those lazy rolls became a grind that left Dorian whining into Bull’s mouth. After being without Dorian for so long, Bull knew he could come just like this, with only the friction of his smallclothes on his cock and Dorian on his lap, but he didn’t so he could let Dorian take what he needed from his body.
Dorian pulled away enough to fumbling with the fastening with his pants and to whispered, “Take yourself out for me, amatus.”
Iron Bull didn’t need to be told twice and lowered his smalls just enough to free his erection. Dorian leaned back in, grasping both of their cocks together with only the moisture leaking from them to slick his grip. He buried his face into Bull’s shoulder as his free hand clung to Bull’s bicep, his muffled moans and cries filling the room.
Bull hardly noticed that he was saying, “Kadan, kadan, kadan,” over and over again into Dorian’s hair as he fought off the urge to come. He normally had much better handle of himself, but it had been too long and with Dorian taking the lead, he didn’t feel like he was in control of much of anything. The warmth and strength of Dorian’s hand along with the slickness and heat of Dorian’s cock rubbing along his own, and even just the scent, weight, and feel of Dorian was maddening, enough to take Bull over the edge. He wanted to tell Dorian to pump his hand faster, to slacken his grip just a bit, for the mage to take off his clothes, but he said none of those things and took what was given.
The loud moan from Dorian into his shoulder and the splatter of Dorian’s release on his stomach was a relief. He bit back his groan as his orgasm tore through him, coating Dorian’s fingers and streaks of it landing on his stomach, chest, and on Dorian’s robes.
Dorian dropped a kiss onto Bull’s skin before he lifted his head up and gave Bull a smile. “Well, I certainly didn’t plan on that, but it was …”
“Hot,” Bull supplied.
Dorian chuckled, warmth in his laugh with little lines crinkling around his silver eyes and a sated sigh escaped from him when his laughter died off. His hair was a mess from Bull nuzzling it, his mustache was ruffled from the kissing, and drying semen stuck to his clothes. The sight made Bull’s chest tight in the best way possible.
Like usual, since they started sleeping in the same bed again, Iron Bull laid awake while Dorian dozed off. This time though, Dorian’s body remained still beyond the occasional twitch, his breathing was even, and not a single whimper or cry came from him. For most of the night, Bull listened to the quiet rasp of Dorian’s breaths and the few hours he slept were the most peaceful he had for nearly three months.
--
He was there, under Iron Bull’s skin, hidden in the dark corners of his mind. Who would slay the beast if it broke through? Who would protect Dorian from it? Bull saw into Hissrad’s mind, his writing was a window into his insanity, and Bull could see himself in it all too clearly.
“Who are you?”
“Dead.”
I’m not sure that you are, Iron Bull thought, even though he knew he’d tear out his own heart in an instant to protect Dorian, Krem, and everyone else from himself.
Don’t let Hissrad win, the Iron Bull, Dorian didn’t.
--
“This is more therapeutic than I remember it being.”
“You’re really not holding back this time, Cass.”
“Last time you made some comment about how women shouldn’t be warriors. I am simply proving you wrong.”
“That’s what the Qun says. I’m no longer under the Qun.”
“Thank the Maker for that,” Cassandra smirked and hit Iron Bull across the stomach with a stick.
Iron Bull grunted at the sharp slap of the wood against his skin, Cassandra wasn’t holding back like she did after he, Dorian, Sera, and Adaar fell into the Fade. This time though, Bull wasn’t working through a demon whispering about his deepest fears, he was still working through having seen his deepest fears come to life. Months after he took Hissrad’s head, the other Qunari was still a phantom that haunted Bull, stalking his every thought, and taunting Bull with what might have been or what could be.
Hissrad clung to Iron Bull like a shadow, whispering about what could have been and what may come to pass. Bull opened his mouth to ask Cassandra, to see if she’d be willing to do what others weren’t, but he was cut off.
“Maker, I’m not even going to ask what prompted this,” Dorian sighed dramatically, smiling wryly at the pair as he approached them where they stood by Cassandra’s old training dummies.
Cassandra lowered the stick and held it out to Dorian. “Would you like a go at it?”
“I normally keep those kinds of activities to the bedroom,” Dorian sniffed. “Amatus, you truly have no manners, poor Cassandra has been at Skyhold for just over an hour and you already have her beating you silly.”
“She was more than happy to help, especially since you convinced Adaar to stop doing this with me,” Iron Bull rolled his eye.
“Only because poor Krem threw out his back while smacking you around!” Dorian protested.
“That being said, I will excuse myself. I could do with a short rest before Josephine claims most of my time. I will see you two at dinner tonight,” Cassandra said, putting down the stick and clasping Dorian’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Dorian, you are looking well.”
“Well? I do believe you mean that I look like perfection.”
Cassandra snorted. “I’m glad some things never change.”
Dorian stepped close to Bull after Cassandra left, his hand brushed the heated and tender skin of Iron Bull’s stomach. Bull sucked in a sharp breath, his flesh stung, but there was a certain pleasure to Dorian’s touch.
“Does it hurt?”
“Stings like shit, but I don’t mind you touching.”
Dorian laughed, his laughs coming easier by the day. “Perhaps later tonight,” he took a step back in a teasing way, his eyes dark with promise.
There was a sense of normalcy in Dorian that Iron Bull was cautiously happy to see. He knew not to get overly excited, that while Dorian’s leg was stronger and all that was left of the cuts and scrapes on his feet were small scars, the mind took much longer to heal. Bull knew that he was still working through things himself, the bruises forming on his torso was evidence enough of that.
That night they dined in Adaar’s quarters, providing privacy for their small party to welcome Cassandra back to Skyhold. She came with some sensitive information to pass onto Adaar, probably about Solas, Bull suspected, and brought news from Divine Victoria. The dining party consisted of Adaar, Cassandra and those in Adaar’s inner circle that were still at Skyhold, Cullen, Josephine, Sera, Dorian, Iron Bull, and Cole.
Cassandra told them of what was going on in Val Royeaux, about Leliana adjusting to the role of the Divine and her run ins with Vivienne, and Adaar filled her in on her most recent letters from Varric, who recently became viscount of Kirkwall, and Thom Rainier, who was seeking out the men of his old unit and trying to make amends. The Seeker was the center of attention, much to her own displeasure, though the wine loosened her up enough to actually enjoy herself. While everyone else was catching up with Cassandra, Iron Bull kept his eye on Dorian.
Flushed from drinking, though not drunk by a long shot, Dorian was animated and sharp, engaging with the party and happily teasing Cassandra. His quips came naturally, his smirk was unforced, and his knee pressed against Bull’s as the soft leather of his boot rubbed against Bull’s leg. The only thing off was that half his plate was untouched, the roasted ram was completely uneaten, or at least it was until Sera claimed it for herself. The next time the platter of butter slathered vegetables came around, Bull dumped a healthy scoop on Dorian’s plate along with a large chunk of bread, earning him a brief glare, but Dorian ate it without comment.
The dinner could have been almost any night in Skyhold when the world was still peril and the fancy struck Adaar to host a private dinner in her quarters for her inner circle. Iron Bull couldn’t count the times he sat at that table at Dorian’s side with some number of their allies, drinking, eating, and forgetting for a bit that the world was in chaos. He remembered Vivienne sharply reminding him which fork to use, the hearty way Rainier laughed, Solas’s small smile over his glass of wine, Sera perched on Adaar’s lap, Cole’s wide eyed wonder, Cassandra’s snorts of laughter, Varric’s outrageous stories, and Dorian’s eyes on him as his hand rested on the inside of Bull’s thigh.
It was oddly nostalgic, despite the crazy blighted Magister that threatened them all at the time.
As the evening wound down and many headed to the tavern for drinks, Dorian had his fill of company and excused himself to retire for the evening, throwing a look at Iron Bull. Taking the hint, Bull excused himself as well and made plans with Cassandra to spar in the morning before he followed Dorian back up to their room.
The coyness of Dorian’s smile and the darkness of his eyes told Bull what kind of night it would be and he couldn’t help but feel excited. While kissing and hand jobs happened on a more regular basis, other forms of sex were infrequent. Bull didn’t need it, all he needed was for Dorian to feel safe and happy, but he did miss that form of intimacy with his kadan.
The moment the door to their room was closed and locked, Dorian’s smile widened and he busied his hands with stripping off Bull’s clothes, not that it took long. Even with the winter settling in, Bull didn’t wear shirt. He didn’t dare to when Dorian’s eyes still looked over at the spot under Bull’s ribs that lacked Hissrad’s scar. Once Iron Bull was naked, Dorian lightly shoved him towards the bed and Bull knew what to do. Stretched out on his back, Bull spread his legs a bit and got comfortable as he watched Dorian slowly peel off the layers of his robes.
Iron Bull never got tired of seeing Dorian’s body and felt privileged that Dorian wanted to show it off to him again. His skin was as perfect as ever, a shade lighter from a lack of sun and months spent in long sleeves. The angles of his torso and hips were still too sharp, but were slowly filling in again with muscle and fat.
Dorian let himself be admired before crawling onto the bed and straddling Bull’s waist, then leaning down to kiss him. “Touch me,” Dorian ordered in a murmur and Bull’s hands were automatically on his kadan, roaming over smooth skin, tracing the lines of his muscles, gripping strong thighs, and finally settling on Dorian’s ass, digging his fingers in and making Dorian moan.
As Dorian’s cock filled out and dragged against Iron Bull’s, his mind began to race with possibilities of what Dorian might want to do that night. Last time Dorian fucked him with slow thrusts for what felt like hours. Bull was on his back as he watched Dorian’s eyes closed as he got close, his hand on Bull’s erection and stroking it faster as his thrusts became more erratic. Bull had tried to hold back his orgasm until Dorian finished, but he came apart when Dorian’s thumb brushed the head of his cock in just the right way, the angle of his own cock inside of Bull was perfect, and Dorian whispered heatedly, “I want to feel you come around me, amatus.”
He hoped Dorian might use him like that again.
But instead Dorian pressed a little bottle of oil into Bull’s hand and he knew they were changing things up that night, not that he was disappointed, far from it. Slicking a couple fingers, Bull pressed one into Dorian after he was ordered to do so, watching as his kadan closed his eyes and his mouth slackened as he rocked back onto the digit.
“Look at you, so beautiful when I touch you, kadan,” Iron Bull praised as he pushed in another finger.
Dorian cracked open his eyes, a grin spreading on his face. “Get me nice and loose, amatus, I’m going to ride you.”
Even as much as Bull worked Dorian open, the mage was still tight as he sank down onto Bull’s hardness. This was different from what they used to do in the past as Iron Bull didn’t do any conquering. Not with him lying on the bed, his hands gripping the pillow under his head and Dorian on top of him, taking his sweet time moving up and down on Bull’s erection. That was not to say that Dorian never rode him before, but Bull was usually a more active participant.
The Iron Bull chose his name because he liked that it made him sound like a mindless weapon of destruction, which worked for him. Now, with Dorian on top of him, he felt like a mindless instrument for Dorian’s pleasure and that really worked for him. He nearly came at that thought, but he held himself together and concentrated on just Dorian, on the beautiful man riding him, his hard cock bobbing untouched in front of Bull, and the expression of bliss on his face.
Dorian’s hands dug into his hips, his arms and legs moving to fuck himself harder on Bull, his breath coming out in short pants. “Amatus,” he rasped, “amatus, I need you to stroke me.”
Bull moved his hands at Dorian’s bidding, one settled on Dorian’s waist and the other grasped his erection. Dorian threw his head back, letting out a breathy groan, and his hips moved faster. Bull was close, so close, but he was there for Dorian, only Dorian’s pleasure mattered at that moment, not his own. Whatever Dorian wanted him to do and whatever he wanted from Bull was his to take as he desired.
Even when ropes of warm come hit Bull’s chest and stomach, even as Dorian clenched deliciously around him, Bull didn’t let go. Not until Dorian touched his face and said, “Bull, amatus, I want you to come.”
His orgasm rocked through him on Dorian’s command, whiting out his vision for a couple of seconds and his limbs became boneless. He was barely aware as Dorian eased off of him and settled at his side.
“Are you ok, amatus? You look a little out of it,” Dorian stroked his cheek.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m real good,” Bull huffed out a pleased laugh. “Next time, you should tie me down.” Dorian tensed and Bull quickly added, “With the silk scarves.”
Dorian relaxed and kissed the corner of his mouth. “You want that?”
“I like it when you’re in charge.”
“I’ll think about it,” he promised, then got up to grab the soft flannel from the wash basin, warming the water before dipping in the cloth and bringing it over to clean Bull off. He went through all the motions Iron Bull used to go through after sex, gently wiping away the semen, sweat, and oil clinging to Bull, rubbing the cramped muscles of Bull’s legs, and even kissing the spots where his nails left angry marks in gray skin. Even though Bull liked doing the aftercare, Dorian needed to do it.
Dorian needed the control and Iron Bull needed to be controlled.
--
Dorian mumbled in his sleep followed by a small whimper and a frown tugging at his lips. Bull was still awake and gathered Dorian into his arms, rubbing his back soothingly through the thin cotton robe Dorian wore, mumbling, “It’s ok, kadan, he’s dead, he’s dead, I killed him for you.” The mage relaxed in his arms, burying his face in Bull’s chest with a relieved sigh, not once waking up.
Iron Bull closed his eye, even though he wasn’t anywhere close to falling asleep.
“Who are you?”
“Dead.”
But Iron Bull knew that the potential lurked inside of him. Hissrad lived through him.
Only if you let him consume you, the Iron Bull.
--
“The Inquisitor told me everything, such a dreadful situation,” Vivienne said as she poured Iron Bull a cup of tea and handed it to him. “Had the story not come from Adaar herself, I would have never believed it, though I should hardly be so shocked considering the volatile magic that Tevinter Magister was engaged in. Tell me, darling, how is our dear Lord Dorian’s recovery going?”
It was a relief to see Vivienne. Her visit to Skyhold was unexpected since it was still winter and travel up into the Frostbacks was difficult, but it seemed that it was the soonest she could leave the Orlesian court. Iron Bull was touched, her duties with the court of course took priority, but she cared enough to come at all, though he was sure that she other pressing business with the Inquisition. She reclaimed her space once she arrived and wasted no time in summoning Bull for tea, demanding Bull’s presence before she even dined with Adaar.
“Dorian’s doing better, ma’am. He’s regained most of the weight he lost, sleeps a lot better, his leg’s all healed up, and he’s started doing some of his ambassador work again.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Now, what about you, my dear? How have you been doing?”
Iron Bull opened his mouth, but was quickly cut off.
“And do tell me the truth, Iron Bull, not whatever it is that you tell the Inquisitor and your darling Dorian.”
Bull’s mouth clicked shut and he took a few moments before answering. “It’s been difficult. Dorian’s recovery was slow and he understandably wasn’t able to be around me much to begin with, but I’m happier now that he’s on the mend.”
“Of course you are, darling, but it cannot be easy knowing that the man who did this to Dorian was essentially you.”
Vivienne was never one to softened the blow and her words were almost as damaging as her magic. It was why he liked her, because she didn’t mince her words and didn’t try to soothe him with pretty lies and half-truths.
“No, it’s not, ma’am,” Bull admitted into his tea cup.
“Who is supporting you through this, darling?”
“Krem, mostly, and the rest of the Chargers, too. Adaar, Sera, and Cullen have been helpful, but they’ve got their duties and they’ve also been helping out Dorian. And everyone’s been reminding me that I wasn’t the one who kidnapped Dorian.”
“Your lieutenant is a good man, I’m happy to hear that he has been at your side, but you must not be made complacent by his and everyone else’s words and know that the potential is within you. You are a man of both great physical strength and intelligence, a dangerous combination if it goes unchecked.”
Bull swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
“Good, I’m glad you understand. So let what happened be a reminder to you of the price of losing control and let it strengthen your resolve to do better,” Vivienne said firmly. “Use this knowledge to better equip yourself to protect yourself and your Tevinter paramour.”
“What if I still go mad?”
“You will know the consequences and you will know what course of actions to take,” she answered with an air of finality. “If you are unable to take the appropriate actions yourself, and I very much doubt that Dorian, the poor gentle creature he is, would stop you, do know that you have allies who will. I would think of it as a kindness to show you no mercy.”
And like that, a weight was lifted off of Iron Bull’s shoulders and Hissrad’s shadow seemed much less mensing, less powerful. She was right, he also doubted Dorian’s ability to stop him if need be and the fact that Hissrad survived in his own world was proof of that, but he was put at ease by the fact that Vivienne wouldn’t blink twice before killing him.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Don’t mention it, my dear,” her usual calculating smile was tempered by a touch of softness, but not for long as she freshened up their cups of tea and changed the topic. “Now, let us speak of other business, I have a job that requires your Chargers, darling.”
Bull listened to her proposal and told her that he’d have Krem follow up with her. The job would require the Chargers to go to Val Royeaux in a couple of months and Bull wasn’t ready to commit to it himself, not when it would take him so far away from Dorian.
Vivienne smiled knowingly at him, with a touch of condescension. “I completely understand, darling, I am sure your second will do a more than adequate job. We’ll dine with him later this week to go over the details.” Vivienne dismissed him soon afterwards, having other meetings to attend to, but added, “Do remember to write to me in the future, my dear, I expect to hear from you on a regular basis.”
He knew it wasn’t a request and confirmed that he would follow her order.
Iron Bull made his way towards the tavern and Cole walked at his side, staring at Bull with curious eyes. “She’s hard and unyielding, strength that you crave, that you take comfort in. You’re happy that she would kill you.”
“I am,” Bull answered, “but she’ll only do it if I go mad.”
Cole took his words into consideration and replied slowly, “I would kill you, the Iron Bull, if it meant stopping Hissrad from hurting Dorian.”
“Thanks, Cole, I appreciate that.”
“You really do.”
Dorian noticed the change in Iron Bull’s demeanor as they took a light dinner in their room that evening. Dorian was noticeably tired from entertaining the group of Orlesian nobles that came with Vivienne and they decided to avoid the crowded dining hall that evening.
“How was your tea with Vivienne, amatus?”
“It was good, kadan, we had a good talk.”
“Well, whatever you and Vivienne spoke about seems to have put you in a sunny mood,” Dorian observed, picking at his roasted druffalo. “Hard to imagine that she could cheer anyone up though, what did she say to you?”
“She promised to kill me if I go mad,” Iron Bull replied casually.
Dorian paused and blinked at Bull. “Well, that’s … For Maker’s sake, Bull, why would she say that!?”
“Because I wanted her to.”
Dorian got up from his seat with a rough shove of his chair and moved towards the window, spitting out, “I can hardly imagine why you’d want to hear that.”
Bull got up as well, standing close to Dorian and slowly cupped the bare shoulder peeking out from the robes he was wearing. Automatically, Dorian leaned back into Bull, his head resting against Bull’s broad shoulder and not once flinching at Bull’s unannounced touch. He was to the point where he welcomed Bull’s unexpected touches and could sleep through the night without nightmares, small steps towards recovery that they both took comfort in.
“I’m not fond of the idea of my amatus running around and asking people to kill him,” Dorian elaborated, his darkened eyes staring out the window.
“I need this, kadan,” Bull confessed. “I need to know that someone will kill me if I go insane, to protect you and everyone else from me.”
“Amatus—”
“I need this to move on.”
Dorian fell silent for a few moments and his body slumped. The way his face twisted up, Bull knew that Dorian wanted to protest and to say the sweet things that everyone said to Bull.
You won’t go mad.
You’d never do that to Dorian.
This will never happen.
It wasn’t you.
But instead, Dorian took a deep breath and said, “Ok. Ok, if this is what you need, but I don’t think I can hear much more of it, it’s not a thought I like to entertain. I … I always forget that Hissrad made you a victim too. Selfish of me not to think of you, though we should hardly be surprised.”
Hearing the self-loathing in Dorian’s voice very nearly broke Iron Bull’s heart. “There’s no comparison, kadan, what I’ve gone through is nothing to what he did to you. You needed the time to yourself to recover and I needed you to have that time. The shit that I’m going through, well, I got what I needed and it’s something I could have never asked you.”
“Still, I should have—”
“No,” Bull interrupted him. “You’re doing what you need to do to heal and that’s all I need from you. Having you here, unafraid of me, letting me touch you, this … it keeps me sane, kadan, and it reminds me that I’m not him, that I’m the Iron fucking Bull.”
Dorian snorted with humor and retorted, “Well, I can’t have you forgetting that, now can I?”
Dorian’s lips curled up into a smile and he turned, standing chest to chest with Iron Bull and tipped his face up to brush his lips against Bull’s. Iron Bull gripped Dorian’s shoulders and his kadan was strong and beautiful under his hands, his strength kept Bull grounded and kept him in constant awe of Dorian. Even when he was stripped of his defenses and left with only his wits, Dorian was able to survive, was able to escape and save himself while Bull and his men were floundering about in the woods.
And that gave Iron Bull just as much comfort as Vivienne’s promise to kill him. He could move forward.
--
Iron Bull stared at the ceiling with Dorian curled up at his side, his head pillowed on Bull’s shoulder and snoring softly. Dorian’s body was naked and warm along Bull’s flank, though his toes managed to be cold and were pressed against Bull’s leg to steal the warmth from his limb. His face was slack with sleep, peaceful and vulnerable. The way that Dorian slept unguarded with Iron Bull made it seem like any other night he spent with Dorian, before anything happened.
“Who are you?”
“Dead.”
Stay that way. Bull closed his eye and relaxed, letting Dorian’s even breathing lull him into sleep.
He will, because you are the Iron Bull.