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Bull fucking hated fighting Qunari.
They hadn’t sent any assassins after him after the fight--which was barely that, it had been a pitiful attempt--and he doubted they would, but still, each time he encountered them it felt like a personal attack, one orchestrated specifically to throw him off balance. It was worse when the Chargers were there, and even worse, he was quickly discovering, when Dorian was fighting alongside him, too.
“Let’s split up, Krem, it’s a great idea, cover more, fucking ground.” Krem’s voice carried even across the fight, and Bull recognised Krem’s ever popular impression of him, even if the slight hitch in Krem’s breathing as he swung his maul. Bull wondered how Krem got that much sarcasm into his tone, maybe it was a ‘Vint thing; Dorian could do it, too.
“Perhaps your Chief is simply growing old!” Dorian called back. “His mind might be going. It would certainly explain this plan.” Though he denied it, Dorian got just as much pleasure from the adrenaline of a good battle as Bull did, and he had a slightly wild grin as he spin his staff, casting spells both to protect the three of them and attack their enemies.
“Watch it,” Bull growled. He swung his axe up into the closest Qunari, and there was a satisfying noise as it cleaved his enemy more than halfway from hip to shoulder.
Despite being out numbered, they had made good work of the enemy, and only three Qunari still standing and the Sten was quickly retreating from Krem. Bull placed his foot onto the Qunari he had cut down, using it to heave his axe out of the man.
There was still an Arvaarad and their Saarebas up on the hill. They had stayed on the defensive, casting mostly barriers and small spells, nothing Dorian couldn’t counter with ease. Saarebas was capable of far more destruction, Bull was sure of it, but Arvaarad was keeping him on a tight leash, even as their men died around them.
“Perfect,” Bull called, pleased with their success, “one left for each of us.”
Krem lunged and his maul cracked down on the Sten’s skull at the same moment Dorian expertly dispelled the barrier around him. “You’ll have to fight me for one of the last two.”
“Think I won’t?” Bull said, jogging to his Lieutenant’s side, grinning at him. Arvaarad looked panicked, and had stepped closer to Saarebas, and Bull could almost see the gears turning in his head as he accessed the situation. If their positions were reversed, Bull wouldn’t much fancy his chances either.
“You are both children,” Dorian said with a sniff, suddenly above it all. He was still advancing on the hill, ready to take out the remaining pair, but there was a swagger to his step like they had already won.
Krem snorted at Dorian’s comment, and Dorian turned to glare at Krem. That second of distraction was all Arvaarad and Saarebas needed.
Bull recognised the spell in the instant before it hit him, he had seen Dorian cast it enough times that he had lost count. Horror.
“Amatus!” Dorian’s warning came too late, and his staff came up too slowly.
Bull had seen the spell hit others before, and Dorian had cheerfully talked him through the gruesome effects, but he still couldn’t prepare for what it felt like.
If Scheron had taught him anything it was that ‘Vint mages were bad news. He could taste ash in his mouth, and picture an orphanage on fire; the screams the children had made wasn’t something that Bull could easily forget, and the petrified screeches still haunted his nightmares. The ‘Vints had killed children, mercilessly, to gain the smallest advance on the Qunari.
They had Viddathari slipped in amongst the ‘Vint’s slaves, all reporting back. One young elf girl, who had only been following the Qun for a month, tears streaming down her checks and reported to Bull that not a single Magister had objected to the plan. Bull turned, seeing the bright and distinctive cut of Tevinter styling and breeding on a mage so very nearby.
This, this was the sort of mages Tevinter bred, and the Inquisition had just let one swan his way into the Herold’s counsel. And Bull, Bull had let the bastard worm his way into his bed.
It was a mistake that had to be rectified; no one else would suffer at the hands of a Magister if Bull had anything to do with it.
Bull had believed that Dorian was different, but looking at him now, Bull could feel fear coiling in his gut; Dorian was one of them, and no matter how charmingly he played the role that he was different, the apple never fell for from the tree. Bull had let himself be fooled, he must have, because this moment of clarity--and with it, the dawning realisation that Dorian couldn’t be trusted--was like having a vale lifted.
He was scared, terrified even, looking at Dorian, but there was an easy solution to that. There was no one else here but Krem; it would be so easy to eliminate the threat and no one else in the Inquisition would be any the wiser. They wouldn’t even know the danger Bull had saved them from.
Dorian was staring at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, staff half up and pointing at Bull. Damn, the element of surprise would have been nice, but if the mage knew that Bull knew, that was only reason to act faster.
“Bull?” Dorian asked tentatively, and fuck if he wasn’t good at his little act.
Bull snarled, and almost paused at the hurt that flashed across Dorian’s face for a brief second before he disguised it.
“Altus, the mage!” Krem yelled, shattering the moment, and Dorian turned away, only just managing to throw up a barrier to block the Saarebas's attack.
“Chief?” Krem was only half looking at him, eyes flicking between Dorian and the Saarebas, and Bull.
“We should take out Dorian first,” Bull murmured. “We have the best chance while he’s detracted.”
Now Krem looked at him, mouth slightly agape, hand tightening around his maul. “Dorian’s on our side.”
Bull shock his head. He knew what Dorian was, what he could do, and fear chased away any part of him that might have convinced him Dorian wasn’t a threat. Krem had seen Dorian has a threat from the start, it had been Bull who had convinced him otherwise, he should have trusted his lieutenant's instincts.
“For now.”
“If the pair of you could possibly find time to help me, I would be forever indebted to you,” Dorian yelled. He was trying to sound relaxed, but he was clearly strained. Saarebas were powerful, and this one’s Arvaarad had let him loose; Dorian could handle it, Bull had little doubt of that, but that didn’t mean it would be an easy fight. If he was going to take down Dorian, this was the best opportunity.
“You said it yourself, Krem de la Krem, Altus are out for themselves. Dorian can’t be trusted.” He started advancing on Dorian, frowning as Krem continued to stare, rather than falling into step beside him. Dorian really had manipulated his way into their good graces. “We need to kill him before he has a chance to hurt anyone,” he half growled it, loud enough that Dorian heard, and he saw Dorian flinch around to look at him, eyes wide.
Krem stepped between Dorian and Bull, jaw set, maul raised.
“Krem,” Bull warned, tightening his grip around his own weapon. He didn’t want to fight Krem, but he had to protect the Inquisition.
“This isn’t right, this isn’t you. I won’t let you hurt him.”
“I don’t want to do this, Krem. Get out of the way.”
Krem didn’t move.
“I can make you move if I have to.”
Summer had finally arrived and the hot sun had darkened Krem’s skin serving as a reminder that he was actually a Northerner by birth, even if he could pass as a Marcher during the winter months when he saw little sun. Dorian’s brown skin had also darkened a little in the heat, though the contrast wasn’t nearly so dramatic. Bull wondered how dark Krem had been when he was still in Tevinter; he had been a soldier after all, he was likely out in the sun a lot.
Bull had seen what the Tevene army would do, all on the orders of Magisters, but it was their own blades that had cut down the innocent bystanders.
And here was Krem, planted between him and Tevinter Altus, ready to throw himself into a fight he was sure to loose, for the sake of a fucking Vint’ mage. Bull had said himself that it was too much effort to hate each and every ‘Vint, but this was clearly evidence to the contrary. They couldn’t be trusted, and Krem was just another rat, only leaving the country when it turned on him.
Bull swung his axe.
Krem got his maul up in time to block and his solid stance kept him on his feet; he had trained at taking Bull’s hits enough to withstand them. Krem threw his maul like it was almost weightless, but he would never be able to match Bull for strength, and as much as Krem knew how Bull fought, Bull knew just as much about Krem.
Krem pulled back a couple of steps, looking shocked that Bull had actually attacked him, though he wasted no time in reading himself for another onslaught.
“Dorian?” He called over his shoulder voice shaking.
Dorian spared a glance away from Saarebas who was throwing spells he had seemed incapable of only moments before. Arvaarad stood at his shoulder, and Bull at least could see the internal struggle between keeping a close watch on his Saarebas and charging Dorian.
“Kaffas.” Dorian was quick to take in the scene, and Bull wondered if Dorian had suspected that this day would eventually come, that Bull would eventually break free of his hold; what other explanation could there be for Dorian’s quick recognition? “Hold him off. I can counter it once the caster is dead.”
Krem didn’t respond; the easy banter that had occupied the fight dried up.
“Please, Chief. Let Dorian help you.” Krem wasn’t stupid enough to drop out of his stance.
“The sort of help Dorian’s offered me in the past wouldn’t be suitable on a battlefield.” Bull very deliberately quirked an eyebrow, watching to see how Krem reacted to the poor joke.
“Heh.” Krem let out a humourless laugh. He didn’t smile and his eyes tightened.
Bull struck out again and Krem kept himself deliberately between Bull and Dorian, blocking the blow.
Dorian was trapped rock by ledge on his right; if he wasn’t in combat, climbing it would have only taken a handful of moments, but turning his back, and lowering his guard to get a handhold would mean certain death. It meant, even as Dorian threw spells at the Qunari, likely so he could turn his attention back to Bull, strengthening whatever mind-control spell he was under, Bull was slowly pinning him against the rock.
Krem was a good fighter, of course he was, and Bull still felt pride blossom in his chest at that even if Dorian’s deception had placed them on opposite sides. Invariably, though, Bull was bigger, stronger, and had far more experience. Krem was losing ground.
“Chief, think about what you’re doing!” Krem pleaded. There was sweat running down the side of his face and his hair stuck to his forehead. Each swing of his maul was slower and less accurate than before. “The mage hit you with something, it’s messing with your head.”
Krem swung his maul in a wide arch and Bull was forced back, onto his bad ankle to avoid the attack. Krem was far too smart for his own good sometimes. Bull’s ankle held, he would have been dead a long time ago if it didn’t, but gave a slight twinge before he shifted his weight.
Krem tried to push the advantage, forcing more space between them and Dorian, but it was so easy for Bull to just step the side and forward, and forced Krem to back up again or open a line of attack to Dorian.
“You’re not this fucking dumb!” Krem yelled, and Bull could hear a whole handful of emotions colouring his tone. Bull was glad he was distressed, he would be much easier to neutralise while emotional.
“Dumb enough to trust a ‘Vint?” Bull asked. Bull brought his axe down in a high arc and Krem only just leapt out of the way. He wasn’t fast enough to avoid a backhand when Bull let go of the hilt with one hand and lashed out with a wide sweep. Krem staggered backwards, eyes slightly dazed.
“Dumb enough to need to,” Krem shot back. “How many times have I had to save your sorry ass?”
Bull was impressed and he almost praised Krem for it; remind a target of an emotional history to throw them off balance. Bull pretended it didn’t work, even if it was only a little.
“Not my ass you’re trying to save this time,” Bull said.
“Yes, it is.”
They collided again, another quick exchange of swings before they retreated. Krem came away with more sweat on his brow, while Bull had a new cut across his cheek, blood oozing slowly down his face. Krem’s armour had some sharp edges and they made his elbows nasty. There would be a bruise blossoming under that cut by nightfall.
“Come on, Krem. You can do better than this. Don’t lose because you can’t hold your ground.”
Krem squared his jaw and lunged at Bull again, going for his blindside. Bull remembered giving Krem advice on how to take him down after going Tal-Vashoth, he’d told all of them how to do, and if Bull hadn’t been expecting Krem to pull that on him it might have worked. Krem’s maul was too slow to pull a convincing feint and as soon as Krem was close enough struck out with the hilt of his axe. It hit with enough force to drive the breath right out of Krem’s lungs.
Krem wheezed as he fell back again, swinging wildly to keep some distance between him and Bull.
“Step out of the way,” Bull said quietly.
“I can’t,” Krem gasped between ragged breaths.
“I’ll kill you if you don’t.”
“I can’t.”
“You willing to die for him, Krem Puff? He’ll let you and won’t feel a moment’s regret.” He spoke loudly enough that Dorian could hear. There was wetness on Dorian’s face, but if it was from tears or sweat from excursion Bull couldn’t tell. “He’s a selfish brat, you saw it when you first met him. Even when he was controlling me I knew it.”
“You love him!”
And wasn’t that the greatest violation of all.
“You’re just like the rest of your countrymen, ‘Vint.”
Krem flinched at the nickname, one that had so long been affectionate. Krem wasn’t used to fighting people who knew him, and he had never trained to keep his emotions in check while in combat; absently Bull thought that if they’d had the time he would have made Krem work on that, back at Skyhold.
Bull pressed on the distraction, swinging his axe out again. This time Krem’s response was too slow, and he stumbled backwards, boot catching on a rock and he fell. There was a heavy thump as Krem collided with the ground. Bull brought his axe down before Krem could regain a grasp of what was happening, and before Bull could be affected by expression on Krem’s face.
Even dazed and on his back Krem still managed to react, rolling away from Bull’s axe, but he wasn’t nearly quick enough and the axe buried itself into Krem’s side. The armour buckled and the blade found flesh, tearing its way through the skin and muscle of Krem’s stomach, creating a blood tear a little under Krem’s ribs, starting on the right of his stomach and curling around his side.
Krem screamed.
A barrier shimmered into place over Krem an instant after the cry, and for a second Bull and Dorian made eye contact. Bull wondered if Dorian was going to try and spread his attention between the fights, it would be a foolish thing to attempt but Dorian always was too emotional for his own good.
“You’re next,” Bull growled, hoping to goad him into the fight.
For a second he thought it might have worked before Dorian turn again, casting a hail of magic at the two Qunari. He was wearing them down, and quickly now, but he would be exhausted but the time he was finished. Bull would be able to make quick work of him.
He took a step forward. He towered over Krem, who who’s eyes were already looking bleary.
“Chief, do you really want to kill me?” Vashedan, Krem had no right looking this young.
“You’re a ‘Vint.” Bull said, void steady. He hoped that made Krem understand.
Krem was clutching his side, blood slipping though his fingers, staining the padding under his now dented plate. There was a blood behind his head too, and his eyes were unfocused. His head must have hit something when he fell. Bull should have made him wear a helmet.
“Horns up.” Krem murmured, before his head fell back and unconsciousness claimed him.
Bull frowned. His axe felt heavy in his hands.
Something hit him across the face. Dorian was snarling, gripping his staff, ready to strike Bull with it again. He had used the blunt end, rather than the wicked blade Dagna had proudly enchanted before having it attached. Once glance up the hill confirmed both Qunari were dead.
“Bull.” Dorian wasn’t quite pleading, not quite ordering, but it was something between the two. No magic danced around Dorian’s hands.
They stared at each other. Dorian was tense, knuckles white around his staff, aguish poorly hidden under his anger. Bull never wanted to see Dorian look like that, had certainly never wanted to be the cause of it.
Clarity felt like being hit across the face all over again.
“Krem,” he gasped out, and his axe hit the ground and he dropped to his knees only a second later, gathering his lieutenant up into his arms. Krem was still breathing, but it was week and his body was heavy and unresponsive.
“Bull?” Dorian said again. He sounded scared but a little hopeful. Krem might be dying in his arms and Dorian’s voice still managed to make him feel a little better.
“I’m back, Kadan. Please, we need a healer.” He looked up at Dorian. They would need to talk later, but now Krem was the only thing that mattered.
Dorian looked like he might cry, and Bull wished he could gather him up into his arms. He was about to prompt Dorian again when the man leapt into action himself. Dorian pulled the over part of his robe up over his head tossing it to Bull.
“Use it for bandages, I’ll find Stiches.”
Bull didn’t hesitate before starting to shred Dorian’s robe into strips. He fumbled with the buckles on Krem’s armour, pulling off the dented breastplate, and shoving up Krem’s shirt, taking in his bloody side. Black bruises were already surrounding the area, hinting at broken ribs beyond just the gouge in his side. He had no one to pray to that a rib hadn’t pierced Krem’s lungs, but he hoped with all he had.
Dorian had taken off running to find the other Chargers, and Bull knew it was necessary, they needed help, but Bull also wished that Dorian had been able to stay. The memories of planning to rip his throat out, and the bitter words he had spat at him were too fresh, he wanted to be able to see Dorian, to know he was alive, to be able to hear Dorian’s forgiveness.
And, if Krem died, if he had killed Krem, he didn’t want to be alone.
Tears spilled from his one remaining eye while he applied pressure to Krem’s wound, the young man’s blood seeping through Dorian’s robes and staining his hands.
---
Stitches and Dalish arrived without Dorian, who had been following behind, too tired from finding them to keep up with their pace. They set up camp around Krem, dragging the Qunari’s bodies to the side and placing one tent up around Krem and another nearby, clean and dry, to move Krem too when they could.
When the others arrived, with a sweat soaked Dorian among them, they finished the job, setting up all the tents, splitting the jobs without having to be told, Skinner gathering firewood, Grim starting to prepare some dinner.
Bull didn’t have to be told to leave the tent when Stitches was working. While he got busy living up to his name, Dalish boiled water to clean rags, pouring what healing magic she had into Krem. She had more healing,magic than Dorian but it still less than was ideal; what power she had she directed into Krem’s wound, passing elfroot potions over to Stitches when she ran out of mana.
There was a small stream nearby, one that Skinner had found while collecting the firewood. She had jerked her head in its direction when Bull had asked, but had said nothing else. No one said anything to him, and Bull couldn’t tell if it was because they didn’t know what to say, or blamed him for Krem being on the brink of death.
In the stark loneliness of that realization, it hit him that he had no idea where Dorian had gone.
Bull crouched down by the stream, plunging his hands into the frigid water, rubbing his hands furiously to wipe away the red. His trousers were still stained with it, and he thought, ludicrously, that he had really liked that pair. The stray thought caught a laugh, strangled in his too-tight throat.
Dorian approached loudly, deliberately, giving Bull time to decide how to react. Bull did nothing and Dorian sat down next to him. His shoulders and arms were still bare, having not collected a new robe. Goosebumps covered Dorian’s forearms, and he wrapped his arms around himself.
Bull swallowed, trying to put some of what he was feeling into words, to beg for Dorian’s forgiveness, and thank him for stopping him before he finished Krem off for good.
“I’m sorry,” Dorian choked out, before Bull could speak.
For a moment Bull was shocked out of his depression. “What?”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t quick enough to stop this. I should have had a barrier around you to protect you from that spell, and I could have helped Krem against you. If I hadn’t been so fucking selfish; I didn’t want to hurt you, and he might die because I didn’t want to give you some minor burns.” Dorian was shaking ever so slightly.
“Can I touch you?” Bull asked.
Dorian nodded.
Bull pulled Dorian into a hug, gripping him tightly. Normally Dorian put up a token fight, fussing about his clothes and trying to hide his blush. This time, though, he went easily, wrapping his arms around Bull's neck.
“Krem would be dead if it wasn’t for you. Fuck, Dorian, if you had been a second later he would have been dead. I’m the one that stuck him with my axe.” Bull’s voice caught on the last word.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dorian said, looking painfully earnest, an expression he must have learned since coming south. “You were under a spell, any one of us would have been the same. You are no more guilty of how you acted than the dead I raise are responsible for what I make them do.”
“Nice comparison,” Bull grunted.
Dorian winced. “You know what I meant. Please don’t blame yourself.”
“If he dies it’ll be by my hand.”
“I don’t know why he did it,” Dorian whispered. “You said it yourself, he hates me.”
“I didn’t mean that, he hasn’t hated you for a long time.”
Dorian shrugged.
“When I say I didn’t mean it, I mean all of it, all the shit I said to you, I love you, Dorian. Just because I know your insecurities enough to poke at them doesn’t mean I buy into any of that crap.”
Dorian sniffed, like he was on the verge of crying but was holding it back. Fuck, that made two of them. “I did hit you round the head with my staff, so I do believe we’re even.”
“Yeah.” Bull paused, trying to gauge the mood. “That was hot, by the way.”
Dorian laughed, albeit wetly. It was something.
---
Dorian made Bull sleep when they got back to camp, claiming that sort of spell was physically draining, not just emotionally.
He lay on his back staring up at the canvas of the tent, feeling sleep as some far off impossibility. He missed the weight of Dorian against his side or, casting his memory back, the general noise of sharing a tent with Krem. He wiggled constantly in his blankets, huffing into his pillow, snoring loudly, and still moving even in sleep. There were birds singing cheerfully and the sound of the camp moving around but it was still too quiet.
He wished he had asked Dorian to stay with him, it wouldn’t make him less anxious about Krem, but it might help him deal with it. He listened to the movement around the camp, hoping he could eavesdrop in on a conversation, to pull himself out of his head, but no one talking; probably too worried about Krem.
His axe had sunk into Krem’s side all too easily, it hadn’t felt any different to the hundreds of other enemies he had stuck down. He had been able to push his own mortality aside on Seheron, both accepting he might die any day, and seeing himself as invincible. When they’d told him he might not walk again after he fucked up his ankle he had accepted that was the way it was, and had been ready to be reassigned. When he had mostly recovered he hadn’t really felt any differently about it.
Asit tal-eb.
That didn’t apply to Krem. Krem wasn’t meant to die like this, just like he wasn’t meant to die back in that tavern where Bull had given up his eye. Krem needed to survive to kick his ass for letting that spell hit him in the first place.
Krem wasn’t meant to die.
---
He didn’t sleep, but he lay on his back until after it was dark. Dorian joined him, curled up against his side. He muttered that Krem still hadn’t woken up but that he wasn’t any worse either. Bull wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
Dorian got up to piss at some point and didn’t come back. Bull couldn’t shake the feeling that Dorian couldn’t stand to be near him, and no amount of logical thinking could shake the idea. He started reciting the Cantos of the Qun under his breath; they didn’t being the same calm they once had, reminding Bull of his place in the world, but he could at least settle into the familiarity of it all.
A spider crawled up the inside of the tent. He sat up to throw it out of the tent without even thinking about it. Neither he nor Dorian had any real problem with insects, they both came from too hot climates, with far bigger and more numerous bugs to be bothered with them; but Dorian drew a line at letting them hang out above where he was sleeping. He had given quite the detailed rant about the idea of one falling off the ceiling onto them while they were sleeping before Bull, laughing, had scooped the poor thing up and moved it.
Dorian of course would never do it himself, he complained about the cold even already bundled up in all the blankets he and Bull collectively owned without getting up to catch bugs.
Bull let the spider wonder onto his hand and then tossed it out of the tent.
He wanted to know where Dorian was.
What if Krem had died already, while they were in the tent together, and Dorian was sitting with the others, trying to decide how to break it to him?
He could picture Krem laying on the ground, stiff and pale, eyes lifeless.
Bull squeezed his eyes shut, gripping his thighs tightly, fingers digging into his flesh hard enough to hurt.
Reaver rage narrowed his vision, and his breathing became laboured as he struggled to remain in the present, to not lose himself to it; maybe this is what going mad felt like. The Qun had always told him that he was dangerous and would hurt the people closest to him without its order.
He had killed Krem.
“Chief, he’s woken up; pretty sure he wants to tear you a new one. He's already plotting how you can compensate him.” Dalish half ducked into the tent, grinning widely.
“He’s all right?” The words didn’t sound right even coming from Bull’s own mouth.
“You’re going to have to cut him to slack before you kick his ass around the training field again, but yeah, he’s looking good.”
Bull stood up so quickly he almost tore the tent on his horns. Dalish got out of the way of the entrance before Bull had to push her out of the way.
“Your boy’s with him, too.” Skinner announced, appearing at Dalish’s side, throwing an arm across her shoulders.
They had moved him to the clean tent at some point while Bull was unofficially confined to his and Bull paused outside the tent flap, a twisting doubt in his gut telling him that Krem wouldn’t want to see him before he realised the eyes of the rest of his boys were undoubtedly on him. He ducked into the tent without another second of hesitation.
Dorian was sitting ground next to Krem’s bedroll, Krem’s hands between his, and murmuring to him in a low voice. Bull didn’t miss the look of relief on Krem’s face when they were interrupted and Dorian cut himself off.
Dorian looked between the two before letting go of Krem’s hands and climbing to his feet. “I’ll leave you two alone.” He ducked past Bull and out of the tent, squeezing his shoulder briefly.
Bull took Dorian’s place on the ground by Krem.
“If you’re going to apologise, please save it for later. Dorian just gave me all the guilt I think I can handle for the day. You can grovel for forgiveness another time.” Krem’s voice was weak, and a little strained, but it was music to Bull’s ears. He hadn’t even though what he would do if those were the last words he heard Krem say.
“Heh. I’ll make sure to schedule it in for later.” Bull wished he felt the humour he forced into his tone.
Krem sighed in relief before wincing and clutching at his side. “I made the mistake of mentioning my hands were cold, and suddenly he wipes out some magic and he’s warming my hands. I didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop.”
Bull chuckled, actually feeling it this time. “You should see how he fusses over my ankle.”
“He’s a good guy.” There was a weight there that Bull didn’t miss. He wasn’t sure Dorian and Krem could ever be friends, but there was already a mutual respect there that only seemed to be strengthening.
“He’s really grateful for your help today.”
Krem huffed. “He shouldn’t be, you put me on my ass at least a dozen times a day when we are training in Skyhold.”
Bull resisted the urge to apologise.
“Seriously, Chief, please don’t right now,” Krem said quietly. “Today was the most scared I’ve been since you took a mace for me, I need to keep things normal right now.”
Bull took a deep breath. This wasn’t about his own guilt, but about making things better for Krem. “Right, wouldn’t want to Krembarass you.”
“I take it back,” Krem said drily, “if you could make things a little less normal that would great.”
“Too late, I’ve got to seize the day, Carpe DiKrem, as you ‘Vints say.”
Krem laughed. “That’s awful.”
“You think that’s bad? I better go on a PilKremage for some better ones.” Bull was grinning, and for the first time that day it felt genuine.
Krem slapped Bull’s thigh. “Stop, laughing hurts.”
Bull laughed for him, while Krem rolled his eyes, but didn’t bother to hide a smile.
“Don’t know what I would have done without you Krem, no one else’s name lends itself so well to puns.”
“That the only reason you keep me around?” Krem asked. He looked cheerful, if still pale.
“Everyone got to have their role, yours is the butt of all my best jokes and to make me look even more handsome in comparison.” Bull raised his chin, and tilted his head, just like Dorian did when he was showing off his stunning profile.
“Ha! You fucking wish.”
Stitches head poked in the tent. “All right, that’s enough tormenting each other. Both of you need some more sleep. Bull, fuck off and bother someone else’s patient.”
“Aye, I’ll be out in a second,” Bull promised. Stitches eyed him untrustingly but vanished again.
“One more thing, Krem Puff.”
“It’s not an apology?” Krem asked, wearily.
“Nah. Just, thanks, for keeping Dorian safe.”
Krem sighed, and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Yeah well, you’re sweet on him or whatever, and he’s proven he’s not so bad.”
“Thank you,” Bull said. There was a moment of eye-contact before Bull laughed and ruffled Krem’s hair, breaking the moment. “Knew you liked him too.”
“For fuck's- Stitches, make the Chief fuck off.”
Stitches reappeared in an instant. “Fuck off.”
“Mutiny,” Bull muttered under his breath, but left the tent.
Dorian was awake back in the tent, reading by a magic light he had summoned. “The dear doctor demand you let Krem sleep? He was looking like he was planning on building some fortifications even before Krem woke.”
“Yeah,” Bull said. He grinned, he couldn’t help it, even as the lack of sleep finally caught up with him, and he tugged off his boots, ready to drop as soon as his head hit the pillow. “What about us? We good?”
“Perfect,” Dorian said. “Though I would prefer we didn’t do that again any time soon.”
Bull lay on the bedroll, not missing that Dorian had pulled both of them together. He wrapped his arms around Dorian’s waist and tugged him close. Dorian squirmed, but did dog ear the page he was on and lie down beside Bull.
“Think we can all agree on that,” Bull murmured.
Dorian said something in return, but Bull was already too close to sleep to hear.
---
There was not a soul in the Chargers who wasn’t grateful to be back at Skyhold. The trip back had been slow to account for Krem’s injuries and while the worst of the tension evaporated when it became clear Krem would make a full recovery, there was still a noticeably subdued air weighing down all of them.
Stitches had to recruit help to keep Krem resting in the tent at night or on the cart while they travelled during the day. Krem was ready to cut short his recovery time after only a few days and had no shortage of allies amongst his friend happy to help spring him from Stitches’ care; Bull being one of the worst offenders.
That was mostly put to an end when Stitches turned to Dorian for help, who was only too eager to make sure Krem recovered as quickly as possible. The pair of them, made a terrifyingly efficient team at keeping anyone from helping Krem escape, even if Dorian’s most effective tactic involved sleeping entirely on top of Bull.
While Bull struggled to sleep, unwanted images plaguing his mind, Dorian was a grounding weight on his chest. He would push up the back of Dorian’s shirt, just enough for him to lay the flat of his palm on Dorian’s skin.
The looming walls of Skyhold signalled an end to Krem’s forced bedrest as Stitches agreed that it was a good a place as any to let Krem hobble around freely.
Bull was grateful to see his and Dorian’s room again, exactly as they had left it, familiar and comfortable. Bull fucked Dorian slowly the night they got back, holding him close, both muttering terrible sappy things into each other’s skin.
It helped.
Watching Krem milk free drinks from anyone who made the mistake of sitting near him and enjoying, if not encouraging, the attention the dramatic wound got him helped too. If he followed up on even a quarter of the flirting when he was fully recovered he would busy for weeks.
It wasn’t quite enough though, fears of madness were still too close to ignore and he wondered if anyone was surprised when he fell back on Qunari methods of mastering control. He tried Cadash first, hoping that it could be done quietly without Dorian or the Chargers realising. He wasn’t really in the mood to try the human method of talking things out.
Cadash was sitting in the war room, drafting up a very formal looking letter, her official seal sitting right next to it.
“Hey Boss.”
“Do you have a drink for me?” She asked, not looking up.
“No?”
“So I’m not gonna enjoy this conversation?” Cadash sighed.
“Depends,” Bull said with a grin, but she cut him off again before he could continue.
“Does it involve me getting a drink, Sera naked in my bed, or me getting to punch a noble so hard their stupid hat falls off?”
“Can’t say it does, Boss.”
“Then what is even the point?” She let out another long sigh.
“Was wondering if you would be up for hitting me with that stick again, need some help getting my head to settle.”
Cadash looked at him finally, face far too thoughtful to be good. “Fine, whatever, I’ll add it to my to-do-list. Meet me after lunch?”
“Thanks, boss. You’re the best.”
“Damn right.” She looked back down at her letter, and Bull took it as his cue to leave. Just as his hand rested on the door handle she called him back. “Oh, which sounds better, ‘Go fuck yourself’ or ‘I hope your dick falls off. Oh, never mind, I’ll just combine them.”
Bull chuckled as he left the room, hoping he was around to see Josephine’s reaction when they got a response to that letter.
---
It wasn’t Cadash, but Dorian and Krem, Dorian in his training gear, holding a thick wooden rod in one hand. Krem was still officially banned from training, but was sitting on one of the benches by the training dummies with a stick of his own.
“I was expecting someone else,” Bull said, folding his arms over his chest. He should have seen that coming, Cadash was a meddler by nature, especially if it involved getting out of doing something.
“Yeah, well, figured we might be more help than Cadash,” Krem said, with a quirk of his lips.
“Precisely,” Dorian said, spinning the rod in his hand like it was a staff. His smile was more forced than Krem’s, but he was also far less familiar with Bull’s methods of dealing with things.
“Thought we should talk about our feelings?” A part of Bull wanted to walk away from the conversation, let Dorian and Krem deal with this the way they wanted, and let him deal with it the way he wanted; he was sure he could convince Cassandra to hit him again. However, the fact was he cared about these dumb ‘Vints, and they were worried about him too. At least they had also brought the stick.
Krem shrugged. “Don’t know about that. The boss just said Dorian should hit you with the feelings stick and you know I’m never one to turn down watching you get beat up. If you want to talk about your feelings that’s your deal.”
Bull rolled his eye.
“What about you, Kadan? Ready to give it to me, I’m ready to take it.” Bull gave Dorian the one eyed wink that he knew would have him scoffing.
Krem groaned. “Don’t make it weird.”
“So I just, hit you with the stick?” Dorian asked carefully, but he was already holding it like a two-handed sword, ready to take a swing.
“That’s right, and don’t hold back okay? I need to feel it.” Dorian was still frowning slightly, eyebrows knitting together, forming an adorable crease between them.
Dorian took a swing.
It smacked across Bull’s chest and he let out a soft grunt. It stung, but it wasn’t enough. Anxiety was already creeping into Dorian’s eyes, so afraid of hurting Bull.
“Again,” Bull told him, trying to guide Dorian through his increasing uncertainty.
“Why you doing this, Chief?” Krem asked, tone of voice suggesting they were talking over a pint rather than out in the training grounds while Bull’s lover hit him with a stick.
Dorian hit Bull again, but it was barely harder than the first blow.
“Just need to get my head straightened out,” Bull said, matching Krem’s casual tone.
“Hit him again,” Krem told Dorian before turning his attention back to Bull. “What’s to straighten out?” He paused when Dorian swung again. It struck Bull just across his lower abs and Bull grimaced but the pain faded quickly, too quickly. “I’ve forgiven you, Dorian’s forgiven you, everyone understands.”
“I don’t like magic fucking around with my head, you know that, Krem,” Bull gritted out. He knew Krem was trying to get a reaction out of him and he knew he was probably going to let him.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t make it your fault.” Krem sighed.
Dorian was quiet. He stuck Bull once more when Bull encouraged him to do so, but his heart clearly wasn’t in it. Bull felt his gut twist at putting Dorian through this.
Bull stepped closer to Dorian. “Kadan, I need you to hit me harder.”
Dorian swallowed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“It’s not real.” Bull lifted his hand to cup Dorian’s face. “It’s like when I spank that ass of yours in bed, the pain is part of it, but it’s not the point.”
“You’ll say ‘Katoh’ is you need me to stop?”
“Of course.”
Dorian nodded, even managing a weak, but genuine smile. Dorian swung the stick again and this time Bull felt it.
It knocked the wind from his lungs and he let out a punctured gasp. Krem whooped.
“You aren’t going crazy, Chief.”
“You can’t know that, Krem.” Bull grunted, readying himself for another hit from Dorian.
Fuck. He was going to have impressive bruises in the morning. Dorian would fuss over them, begging a cream from Stitches and tenderly rubbing it into every mark he had made on Bull. He had to focus to push the thought from his head. He had tried to kill Dorian, that was part of the problem, allowing him this close was dangerous.
“It was magic,” Dorian said, like it as obvious and enough of an explanation to put the whole matter to rest.
“It’s not about the spell.” Bull wished he knew how to make them understand.
“No.” Dorian’s grip on the stick slackened. “It’s about being told your whole life that if you dare to not conform there will be terrible and vague consequences and not being able to shake that fear as much as you try. I surely can’t imagine why Krem and I might be able to relate.”
Bull’s chest tightened, and for a second he couldn’t even start to gather words. Krem was watching him just as intently as Dorian, his jaw squared. “Fuck, Kadan. Way to air a guy’s dirty laundry.”
“If you need us to hit you with the stick, we can do that, but you aren’t the first person to injure a friend in combat, far as I’m concerned it doesn’t mean anything beyond magic can be fucked up.” Bull never forgot that Krem was a smart man, too smart on occasion, but as they both actively avoided talking about feelings, Bull didn’t experience how insightful Krem could be. And Dorian, no one would question his mind, and he was starting to prove that he knew Bull better than anyone; it made Bull’s heart ache in a way that he wasn’t sure how to put into words.
Fuck, he loved these men. He’d tell Dorian that tonight, remind him while he kissed him breathless. He would wait until he and Krem were both drunk to say it to Krem, drunk enough to let Krem roll his eyes and pretend the embarrassed flush on his checks was from the drink.
“You didn’t leave the Qun so it could keep defining you; wasn’t that the point? That you didn’t want to be who they want anymore?” Dorian was glaring up with him, fire in his eyes, and for a pleasant second, Bull considered what watching Dorian argue with one of the Qunari priests would look like.
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“Naturally.”
“But,” Bull said, grinning at Dorian, “that doesn’t always make it easier.”
“Sure,” Krem said with an easy shrug, “but that’s what the stick is for right?”
“Exactly!” Bull dropped back into a stance ready to take a hit. Nothing would be fixed this second, but he could make steps, and Krem and Dorian would be there the whole way. “Come on, Big Guy! Show me what you can do.”
Bull was sure he saw magic glimmer over Dorian’s skin as he raised the stick again, face set. He had seen the punch some of Dorian’s spells could land. This was going to hurt.
He laughed even before Dorian swung again; he had asked for it, after all.