(no subject)

[shok_ebasit_hissra]

The Iron Bull followed the Inquisitor and her companions through eluvians, chasing down the Viddasala and her men. He fought, he defended, he assisted in every matter the Inquisitor included him in, and even some that she didn't. Something heavy settled in him as they entered a familiar room. As far as they all knew, nothing had changed. Even Dorian had no idea.

Hissrad was good.

Why did that make him feel slightly sick now?

"Dragon's Breath is... an actual dragon?"

The heavy weights guarding the dragon noticed them. Bull squared himself and he heard the Viddasala's voice before he looked at her. She didn't need to speak to give the order, but she did.

"Hissrad, now! Vinek kathas!"

He turned toward the rest of the party and drew his great sword. "Understood, ma'am. Change of plans. Nothing personal, bas."

He kept his gaze on the Inquisitor's face. He couldn't look at Dorian, would not. Instead he charged the Inquisitor; only the full weight of Cassandra's countermeasure knocked him off course. But he had been alive and fighting longer than most of them. He grabbed the Seeker's shield and used it to fling her away from him as the rest of the Viddasala's men fell on the party.

Comments

[propertool]

It was a bad dream.

But Dorian knew that a bad dream could kill you, and he fought through his disbelief, tore through the sudden wave of resentment and anger and hurt.

Really, he should have seen it coming. It was as much on his naive shoulders as Bull's or anyone else's, he supposed. But his face was scalding hot, and his eyes ached. They were dry. The dragon belched magical flames into the air around them, boiling the room into chaos along with the Viddasala and her men.

But Dorian kept his eyes on one man alone, a laser gaze, cutting through the fight around him. He had to get close, but not too close.

He supposed he'd already made that mistake already.

"Vanity and foolishness. I really ought to have known."

[shok_ebasit_hissra]

There was a reason people on Seheron had whispered his name with terror. Hissrad slammed Cassandra to a wall, listening to her armor crunch. It would slow her down - she was a warrior, it would not stop her. She wouldn't stop until she was dead.

Neither would he.

This is wrong something whispered. Viddasala is wrong. He growled, trying to force the doubt out of himself as he swung his sword. It slammed into the Inquisitor's barrier and the magical recoil forced him to drop it; he was not weaponless for long, grabbing a heavier maul from a fallen Beresaad. An arrow pinged off his armor and he looked for Varric. He had nothing to throw at the dwarf, but unless he got a good head shot, an arrow, even from Bianca, was not going to stop Hissrad.

He knew he should look for Dorian. He knew he should keep his eye on the mage, who had the advantage of magic and range.

Someone has to stop this the doubt hissed. Someone has to stop me.

His gaze found the mage and the ache started to creep back into his chest. He had often admired Dorian on battlefields - sometimes to the detriment of his own safety. Kadan. You called him kadan.

[propertool]

Dorian raised his hand, purple magic crackling between the crystal on the end of his staff and his open palm. It arched over his head, like a violence of veins, before disappearing as he redirected it at a qunari foolish enough to get between the pierce of his stare and Iron Bull.

The qunari's heavy body was dashed to the side before crunching against a nearby wall.

The dragon poured out a scream, shaking dust from the ancient rafters.

Going to pretend you didn't love me?

He spoke to Bull without moving his lips, turned to a thin, pale line. Dorian placed the words directly into the man's consciousness, fueled by mortification and rage.

[shok_ebasit_hissra]

The voice in his head made him freeze, made him stare at Dorian. Did he know he could do that? Hissrad stood still in the chaos.

"No," he answered out loud, because he didn't want to imagine that Dorian might hear him if he thought it. And maybe Dorian wouldn't hear him now over the sounds of the fight, but he would see the word formed on his lips. No, he wouldn't pretend that he didn't love Dorian. Nothing personal, bas, he'd said. But it was personal to them, he knew that.

And whether he was willing to admit it or not... it was personal for him. It wasn't supposed to be. It shouldn't be.

Viddasala is wrong.

His heart was pounding hard, stomach knotted up in ways it never did during a fight. He wanted to soften. He wanted to defend Dorian. Kadan. But this was what the Qun demanded, wasn't it?

An arrow lodged in his back and he hissed through his pain. He got out of Varric's line of sight, but stayed in Dorian's. That was just as dangerous, more so, probably.

[propertool]

No, Bull said. Dorian narrowed his eyes, grey gone silver from too much emotion, and every one on a leash. He was not about to let the Inquisitor, moreover the other Qunari, see his devastation. He could only imagine that he would be viewed as a mouse that Hissrad had been toying with. And he would deserve it. But it made him livid.

"One of us is not leaving this room alive."

The magic crackled across Dorian's knuckles. That was a truth, and they both certainly knew it. Bull's decision had crossed a river, and there was no going back for him.

"I'm not going to let it be me. You know that."

[shok_ebasit_hissra]

Hissrad looked at Dorian and for a moment he seemed... sad. "Yeah," he said quietly, because he knew Dorian would hear him. "I know."

It hadn't been a lie when he called Dorian kadan, but the Qun came first. The Inquisitor had cemented that the day the Chargers died. The Qun had to come first. All his life only made sense when that was true.

Except for quiet moments out in the field or in Skyhold. Moments with Dorian.

If he made it out of this alive, all of them were going to die. Or worse, for Dorian. He took stock of the room, hoping to find a different solution. Varric wasn't going to kill him unless he managed to get an arrow straight through his other eye, and the dwarf was a bit busy trying to pick off the Beresaad. Cassandra was only just starting to move again after what Hissrad had done to her and the Inquisitor was distracted, trying to protect all of them and trying to get to Viddasala. It had to be Dorian.

He hated that it had to be Dorian.

He hefted the heavy greatsword. He was Hissrad, and he did nothing without purpose. Without a plan. Without an end game. Viddasala could not succeed. He knew that.

So he charged Dorian.

Asit tal-eb.

[propertool]

Too many times. Too many times, Dorian had felt the same cold, infinitely sad fury. Toward his father, toward Alexius, toward The Iron Bull. What was it that made him this way? What made him care for men who would only hurt him?

Hissrad raised his sword. Dorian focused on him with a terrible singleness of mind.

It had to be done. Iron Bull was a dead man, either way. If he survived this, then the Inquisition did not. If he were to give up his conviction at the last moment, he would never survive the Qun's retribution. Perhaps he could steal a few weeks, a few months at most in constant flight as the Qun hunted him down and anyone he came into contact with to make an example of him.

No, Dorian was already looking at a corpse.

"Kadan." He spat the word like venom. He threw a wall of ice between his path and the chaos of the rest of the room and jolted forward to meet Iron Bull.

[shok_ebasit_hissra]

It was quick, like he knew it would be. Maybe Dorian was angry, but he liked to think that he mage might be able to summon a small mercy, even for him. Even if it was undeserved.

He could have checked his speed, he could have done a few things to avoid the shards of ice springing from the ground between him and Dorian.

But he didn't.

He heard the crunch of his armor as the ice shot through it. His momentum made sure it went deep and it knocked the air out of him. He had never spent a long time thinking about death; there was no point in obsessing over something that was inevitable. All things died. It was not for him to choose when and where.

The great sword fell from his hand. Hissrad pressed his palms to the ice for a moment like he might try to push off of it, but he knew that was futile. He would die here, far from home, supposedly in service to the Qun.

Blood started to fill his mouth; he tried to control his breathing as his body resisted the reality. He was going to die - he was dying. Something faster might have been better, but this way he could see Dorian's face.

"Kadan," he echoed quietly, without venom and without anger. Only tenderness, and quiet grief.

[propertool]

Uncertainty flooded in as Dorian stumbled to a stop in front of Bull. He could hear the liquid filling his lungs, somewhere in that one word. Dorian's hands shook, and he wrenched them forward, sending the shards of bloodied ice further into Bull's chest.

He hadn't been thinking. He hadn't meant suffering. Dorian was livid, but this was necessary for his own safety. Suffering wasn't. Nothing personal, bas.

Dorian fell against the wall of ice. He clawed at it, feeling hysterical.

"I was tired, too! I was frightened, too!"

The suggestion hid in the tremble of the words, tight and holding back all of Dorian's grief and surprise. Bull didn't have to do this. He needn't have. Everyone knew he was hurting, they would have cared for him through it.

[shok_ebasit_hissra]

Bull grit his teeth when the ice sank deeper. He was pretty sure it was coming out of his back now.

Then Dorian was there in front of him, clawing at the ice like he could undo what had been done. There was probably a way to save him; Bull had seen the Inquisitor revive people. But that couldn't happen here. Dorian knew it. Maybe that made it worse.

"Hey," he murmured. Bull kept one hand braced against the ice, holding his weight as much as the ice itself. His other hand, bloody by now, gently touched Dorian's cheek. "Hey, it's okay. You had to."

He wanted to take the pain away from Dorian, take it with him, wherever he was going. The Qun had given him what he needed to survive the loss of the Chargers, but it had also led to this. It never felt like a choice.

"It's okay."

[propertool]

"I know. I know I had to."

It came out as a sob, but Dorian had conviction. It was the only path that either of the could have taken at that point. But that hardly made it okay.

Yet he wanted to feel comforted by that voice, even when it was bubbling as his lungs filled with his own blood.

With a last effort, Dorian stood back and gave a sharp wave of his arm. The spikes of ice through Bull's chest receded and crumbled, leaving Bull's wounds open to bleed. Dorian had hit two of his major arteries, on purpose and on instinct. Bull wouldn't last long once the ice wasn't holding his chest together anymore.

That was purposeful. There was no need to make him suffer. Dorian had never felt that need, not when he'd been betrayed by his father, not by Alexius, and not by Bull.

"It's pointless, you know. It's all for naught, all of this. Your people can't win this, not in the long-term. You've got to know that?"

[shok_ebasit_hissra]

He dropped to the ground as soon as the ice was gone. He lay there for a moment, trying to hold on. His vision was dim around the edges. It was instinct to try to cover his wounds, but there was nothing to be had for it. Dorian used his magic with deadly purpose, and Bull could not begrudge him.

"I know," he answered. "She's wrong." No one would hear him above the sounds of battle. No one but Dorian. He had to hear it. Hissrad breathed. In, out. Shok ebasit hissrad.

"You have to stop her. The triumvirate--" Bull closed his eye. He was trying too hard. He was dying. "Kadan."

[propertool]

"I will," Dorian swore to him. He wanted to approach, to hold him as he went, but what would that achieve? Bull would still die, Dorian would still be left without him, forever.

He hazarded a look toward the fight in the distance. The Inquisitor was working on freeing the dragon. It swept its tail, taking out three of the qunari and Varric in the process. Fire and green light flashed. Dorian cursed.

"You won't last long. Should I go?"

It was up to Bull. Dorian could at least do him the service of making one last choice for himself.

[shok_ebasit_hissra]

"Stay."

Hissrad never asked anything for himself. But he asked for this now. The Iron Bull asked for this, from Dorian, who owed him nothing. It felt selfish.

But he didn't want to die alone.

He wanted to push up. He wanted to sit up, so he could hold Dorian, if he would allow it. But if he moved, it would be over. It was almost over.

Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra.

"Please."

[propertool]

"Alright," Dorian said. And then, louder, "Alright."

He raised a fist into the air. With a loud flash and crackle, purple light glimmering in his eyes, he forced a wide round static barrier around them, enough to repel any stray magic, or any stray qunari, which may try to wander close to them. He was certain his comarades wouldn't come near. They would know better.

Dorian ell to his knees by Bull then, gathering him up as well as he could, though he was already laying in a pool of his own dark blood. And, Maker, did qunari always have that much blood in them? Did a body always have that much blood?

He pulled one of Bull's shoulders onto his lap. He forced a smile onto his face.

"Look at me. I loved you, that was real and true. Just go knowing that. And please -- just -- be at peace. Leave this shite behind and be at peace. I expect to see you again, on the other side."

[shok_ebasit_hissra]

He could feel the crackle of magic across his skin as Dorian cast the spell. At least they would have privacy, if only for a moment. It would only take a moment.

Bull moved as much as he could, helping when Dorian pulled on his shoulder. He leaned against him; he was tired, and he was getting cold.

He had a big body. There was a lot of blood.

Look at me.

He forced his eye to focus on Dorian's face. "I loved you," he answered softly. "I wasn't supposed to. I defied the Qun in doing that. I do not regret it."

He wasn't sure that he expected that confession to mean much to someone that had never lived under it, someone who could never quite understand what it meant to live in service to it. But he hoped Dorian had even an inkling.

Hissrad - Bull - closed his eye. He let go of his wound and touched Dorian's hand, covered it with his.

"Live," he murmured.

[propertool]

"I loved you, too. And I don't regret it."

Dorian's smile, though wan and sad, ticked up at the corner. If anyone could understand, he thought, maybe this man could. Dorian had never wanted to trust his love to anyone, not ever again. But he had, and it was worth it, because now he could try again. Some day. The hurt, it wasn't too much to bear. Just nearly.

"I will. I'm going to kill that woman, and I am going to get out of here. And then I am going to see to it that the Inquisitor makes it out of this alive after all. And then, I am going to live a very long life at home, until I'm grey and fat."

He felt something slip away. He felt the weight of Bull on his lap start to change. It was frightening, but he needed to be there for it. He deserved to feel it.

[shok_ebasit_hissra]

"They're going to want my body."

It wouldn't be his anymore, he wouldn't be in it, and the rest of the Inquisition would be angry. Even if the Inquisitor intervened, there would be angry people that would like to see him - or parts of him anyway, stuck on a pike. He didn't know what would happen. He just wanted Dorian to be ready.

He couldn't lift his head anymore, and everything in him felt heavy and far away. "Kadan," he breathed. He forced himself to focus on Dorian's face. If that was the last thing he saw before he left this world, it would be worth it.

He couldn't apologize for what he'd done. He wouldn't. Some part of him needed to believe that the Qun had demanded it - even this. His betrayal on both sides.

Asit tal-eb. Shok ebasit hissra.

Bull's body had always been heavy, but in death that weight felt final. He lay there against Dorian until the last breath left him. Then it was only a body, too cold and too still against Dorian's lap.