shok_ebasit_hissra | (no subject)

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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.

"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."

"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."

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.

"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.

"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.