shok_ebasit_hissra | If you love me, don't let go

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If you love me, don't let go

The Iron Bull felt barely together some days. He struggled to hold onto the Qun, but there were no Qunari here. The Ben-Hassrath didn't exist if he needed to turn himself in. The were no tamassrans to help bring him back to center.

And there was nothing for him to beat the shit out of.

Even after fight club, he still felt-- something. A loss, a disquiet. He was struggling. Struggle is an illusion. He'd been thinking a lot; he hadn't had the Chargers to drink with and he and Krem only recently made amends. And he felt like he should figure this out on his own. Shouldn't he?

There's another option, Bull.

Dorian's voice played again and again in his head; he remembered the look on the mage's face when he realized that Bull was not Tal-Vashoth, apparently different from the one he remembered. He remembered how Dorian looked at him that night in his kitchen, all but pleading with him to let go of the Qun. Why, he wondered?

You can survive without the Ben-Hassrath. You can survive without the Qun. I've seen it.

He knew why; he supposed he knew why. Their people were at war. Part of him wanted to argue he could be Qunari and care this deeply about someone from Tevinter, that they were not mutually exclusive ways of being. He got on fine with Krem, after all. But, a deeper voice whispered, the Qun would always come first.

The Iron Bull stopped outside Dorian's door and knocked heavily, hoping he was home.

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"Bull," Dorian said, opening the door to his apartment with mild surprise. He didn't expect Bull tonight, but they lived in the same building, and Dorian could be impulsive, and Bull could be perceptive. They saw one another often enough.

He let Bull in and pulled his robe closer around himself. The weather was getting chilly already, and the halls of the building weren't heated yet. The later it got, the more Dorian felt the winter approaching too quickly.

"To what do I owe the pleasure? Needed to borrow a cup of sugar again?" The words were teasing, but pointedly curious. Bull looked unsettled, which meant that Bull wanted to let Dorian see how unsettled he was.

"Dorian."

Things had sort of become familiar again: the way Dorian found reasons - or not - to visit him, the way he showed up here much the same way. Leaving his door unlocked, like a savage. He liked it. He liked the familiar nights with Dorian pressed against his side. He kept the bad dreams at bay.

Bull came in when Dorian allowed it. The halls were chilly at night and early in the morning; the season was obviously turning in Darrow. He supposed he'd have to find warmer clothes sooner or later, or get Krem to make some for him, or coax Dorian into helping him shop.

"What am I without the Qun, Dorian?" It didn't come out as a theoretical question: he was asking like he needed to know. For his entire life there had been the Qun. Now the possibility of living without it appeared on the horizon.

"Bull," Dorian said. The single word reached out helplessly into the room, which seemed suddenly empty, even with the two of them in it. Dorian rushed to Bull's side, places his hands around one of Bull's palms. He stroked the other man's knuckles slowly.

"What do you mean?" You're the Iron Bull. You're the Inquisitor's man. You are my friend. Aren't you?"

"Yes, but... I have no memory of being Tal Vashoth," he said quietly. "Not like you do." Dorian told him, told him of a world where the Chargers still lived, where Bull had essentially declared himself Tal Vashoth the moment he let it happen. Bull couldn't possibly imagine it. He'd watched them all die, had resigned himself - reaffirmed himself - to the Qun.

"All I know of it is madness and violence." He'd questioned everything once, on Seheron. He knew what he became then. "Tell me it will be alright."

That was true. Both Bull and Krem had made Dorian know under no uncertain terms, that things had worked out differently in the timelines they'd come from. They had no memory of a life where Krem lived and Bull was Tal-Vashoth, any more than they had memories of the future that Dorian had been shunted to, because his counter for Alexius' spell hadn't been perfect; the future that had never come to pass.

He kept ahold of Bull's hand.

"I can't promise you it will be. You know how I am. But I can promise you I will always be here for you, no matter what that means. And I can promise you I'll help you get through this. You're not born to be a monster, Bull. Not any more than I was born to be an abomination. You know that. You know that I'm not defined by that possibility."

Rather than leaning down, Bull picked Dorian up so he could touch their foreheads together. It was just easier, and he wanted to feel close. "I've only ever had the Qun, Dorian. I believed it was all that kept me from--"

He cut off, shaking his head slightly. He breathed deep.

"But the Qun would always come first. That's what you were worried about, wasn't it?"

"Because that's what the Qun told you, yes?"

Dorian pressed their noses together for a moment. They had similar noses, that was about the only place they were similar. It was almost charming, now that Dorian realized it.

"I don't know how to tell you otherwise. I'm not ... that way. You know I believe in Andraste, truthfully, but I don't believe in the church. I only believe what my heart tells me. But it does tell me that you're a good person, Bull. A person. One who cares about the people around him, and knows what he needs to do for them."

Bull held Dorian close but remained careful, mindful of his strength. "Promise you won't let me hurt anyone if I go mad, Dorian. Maybe it won't happen again. But if it does..."

He trailed off. He didn't really speak of Seheron, of what had happened there or how he ended up in Orlais. He'd never brought it up to Dorian, but he'd let the again slip.

"You don't even have to ask, Bull. You would do the same for me." Whether he was Qunari or Tal-Vashoth, Dorian knew Bull wouldn't let Dorian rampage across the countryside. He only hoped that there could be prevention before that happened, in both of their cases. And he would certainly do whatever he needed to to save Bull from himself, if it came to it. He owed Bull that much.

"I'm sorry that you have to go through this. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't glad that you have the chance, I-- you're right that I was ... I didn't, and don't, like the idea that one day you would just get a letter from the Ben-Hassrath and it would be, the Vint mage is no longer useful, and it's time to put a dagger between his eyes. And you would have to do it. But if there's no Ben-Hassrath ... "

"No Ben-Hassrath, no Qunari." Bull moved slowly and brought himself to Dorian's couch. He sat, careful to give Dorian time to adjust his legs. He didn't let him go, though. He closed his eye for a moment, brow against Dorian's again.

"We were together, when I came from. You were... you helped me get through the loss of the Chargers. But I was so certain of who and what I was after that. The Inquisitor, Gatt, they both confirmed it. What I wanted didn't matter in the larger picture. You were the only one that made me.. question." But by that point he'd already rededicated himself, and Dorian was right. One letter and he would have turned on the Inquisitor herself.

"I don't want to be part of something that calls this inessential." He squeezed Dorian gently. "That calls Krem a reasonable loss."

"I'm good for that. Making people question." Dorian gave a wry little smile, a sideways one, and pressed a kiss to Bull's mouth, soft and open.

Then, he lay his head on Bull's chest. It was warm, and Bull couldn't see his expression from that angle. Dorian had his own issues to work through. The ones that Bull had seen right through.

"To the Qun, both of those things are true. They don't have to be for you. Both things can be true at the same time. I know the Qun doesn't exactly foster that kind of belief, but ... I can still love Tevinter, even while I'm hunting down Venatori like dogs. My countrymen, my neighbors. It hurts. But I know it's right."

"The worst part of this is, if I'm Tal-Vashoth and don't go mad... then there's a chance that the ones I hunted down weren't all mad either." Some of them were; some were reckless and violent and deserved to be put down. But Bull now wondered if that was true for all of them.

He tried to push that thought down.

"We've all done some things we regret. Myself, Blackwall, Cassandra, Cullen. Perhaps not Sera, but you take my meaning ... "

He lifted his head and gave a long, slow exhale.

"The men my father sent after me, they were probably well-meaning in their own way. Just bounty hunters. I killed some of them. Not purposefully, simply ... well, I am what I am, it isn't always so easy, with magic, to only wound. But I wanted to get away, it was a cost of living as myself. The Tal-Vashoth, they must have known their own cost."

Bull tried to reconcile that for now. He wanted to argue that it was different, that Dorian had been doing it for survival; Bull had done it because he was told. He sank back, smoothing his hand over Dorian's back.

"Tal-Vashoth, then," he said quietly. It felt like a weight settling, or lifting. He wasn't sure. "At least I can be sure they won't send assassins after me here."

"It's not a death sentence, Bull, even if it feels like one. Try to embrace it? In a healthy way."

Dorian shifted in Bull's lap, sitting up to better look at him, catching deep-set blue eyes. They were kind eyes, no matter what the rest of Bull looked like. Thoughtful, watchful. There was no mirth in them tonight, and Dorian knew that was a shame.

"Can I get you anything?"

Bull lightly bumped his brow to Dorian's before leaning back enough to kiss the same spot. "I don't know," he admitted. Those weren't words that Bull readily used in general, but there they were. His hands, scarred and battered, slid over Dorian's back, his thighs.

"I'd say let's start drinking but I'd empty whatever stash you have."

"It's low to begin with right now." Which wasn't a no, simply a warning and maybe an admission. Dorian had been taking to drink more often than usual lately, but such things came and went with Dorian. He hadn't even been the worst drunk in Skyhold, he could handle himself in Darrow.

He kissed the back of one of Bull's marked hands.

"Just keep yourself occupied. I'll do what I can. A new hobby, perhaps? I'll bet Krem could teach you sewing."

"I can sew," Bull insisted. Granted, most of his skills involved just mending clothes, or leather. Or fixing up the Chargers when Stitches needed more hands.

He curled his fingers against Dorian's chin and held him still for a kiss. "We could adjourn to my place. I'm stocked." Bull did consider that getting drunk might not be the best solution at the moment, but it felt like he needed to do something, and he wasn't sure how to mourn this.

"Or we could go out." Dorian kissed back. "Get some street stall barbeque. Eat it until we puke. Crawl back home at four in the morning and miss work because you're still sleeping and I can't get out from under your arm."

And again.

"Because I'm just absolutely shite at this."

"You're here. You're willing to be here. That's something, Dorian." He wanted him to know that. Maybe Dorian didn't feel particularly helpful, but he was. He cared enough to let Bull take his time. He got another kiss, then pat Dorian's thigh.

"I think you like using that excuse. Can't come to work, trapped under a bovine lummox." It sounded like something Dorian would say, anyway.

"How do you know I haven't used that very line on my manager already?"

Dorian twinkled a bit at his own humor, before sliding off of Bull and surveying him from the foot of the sofa. He regretted it fairly immediately, as the draft hit his front. It had been toasty warm a moment ago.

"So? What do you think? A night in or a night out? No depressing Qunlat allowed."

Bull chuckled, shaking his head. "What about other Qunlat?" he asked as he got up with a quiet grunt.

"If we go out, we need to stop by my apartment to get my brace." He tended to shuffle between floors without it when he was visiting Dorian, but if they were going to be walking any distance he needed it. He probably shouldn't be doing the stairs without it, if he was honest with himself, but it never seemed that far.

"Other Qunlat? If you must," Dorian said, with fake exasperation. He held out his hands for Bull, so that he could at least go through the motions of helping him off the sofa.

"Let's be off. We'll stop for your brace."

He would offer a cab, but he wasn't sure Bull would fit.

Bull held Dorian's hands on his way up but certainly didn't actually try to brace himself against the poor mage's weight. When he was up he smoothed his hands over Dorian's shoulders and held him for a kiss. "Thank you," he murmured before he let him go.

Once Dorian was ready to go it was a short shuffle down to Bull's apartment, where he got dressed the rest of the way and took the time to put his brace on.

As they left his apartment he locked it, because Dorian fussed if he didn't.

Of course I'm fussing, Dorian had said when Bull had brought it up. I put so many nice things in your place. As if someone would have wanted to lift throw pillows.

The streets were still busy this early at night, people rushing home from work and then out again for drinks with friends, or a movie. Dorian knew where to go to find the best street food, and headed them in that direction. He held Bull's hands. Dorian wasn't a hand-holder, as a rule, but tonight was different. Bull needed a solid touch. Any little bit of home to keep him grounded.

"I have to go to an educational seminar for work next week. They told me, 'be yourself, say something nice.' Well, I can't do both, can I?"

Bull felt grateful for Dorian's hand laced with his. It gave him a sort of grounding; even more so because it was Dorian, because Bull knew what it meant for him to do it. His thumb brushed over Dorian's as they walked. The comment made him smile.

"Mm, you might have to put on that mask. If you can manage to be cordial with Vivienne, I think you can survive a seminar. What is it for?"

"We're digitizing some of the older records at the library. I needed to be educated and certified -- apparently. You know, because I'm a medieval castle-dwelling savage and computers and very, very hard. How could I ever mnage on my own? It's not as if I work in a library."

He squeezed Bull's hand again. Maybe his bitching would distract Bull -- maybe. He was not easily distracted, not really.

"So I get to spend the day doing trust falls with Suzi-anne from the department one door down the hall. Goodie, what fun."

Though Bull had generally caught up with the concepts behind most of the technology he saw, he hadn't caught up with all the practical applications. He could manage his phone but only understood vaguely how it worked. Didn't matter, as long as it continued to do so.

So while he had a general idea of what digitizing a library might look like, it still sounded tedious. And a seminar about it sounded even more tedious. He chuckled and brushed his thumb over Dorian's.

"Could be worse. You could be doing trust falls with me."

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If you love me, don't let go

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