The dreams returned as always and it was no different tonight.
His hand was pressed against his face, left cheek stinging and lip bleeding where his father had struck him with an open palm. "Get out," his father had said. "You are no son of mine."
"Father," the boy began to say, voice shaking, and tasting copper in his mouth.
Magister Halward turned his face away. Eyes hard and lips pressed together in a grim line. The boy left his father's study and a part of him died every night since then.
Bull had expected the first ball of fire that was flung in his direction. He did not, however, expect it to hurt as much as it did when it singed the top of his shoulder. The inky blackness of the night was momentarily illuminated by the fiery display as the mage, Dorian, dodged and sidestepped away from the Qunari's grasp.
"Stop it," the Bull snapped, his voice low and annoyed, one of his hands hovering above the hilt of his axe. If the mage were to charge in his direction, he would be ready to defend himself. His experienced eye narrowed upon the man before him.
"Stay away from me, Bull," Dorian retorted. His voice was even, yet there was a feverish look in the mage's eyes that Bull did not like. Eyes wild, breath heavy and hand gripped tightly around his staff – Dorian had the look of a man who was driven to act by keen sense desperation. Desperate men were dangerous men.
"You're stealing supplies from the Inquisition's cache," Bull continued, attempting reason. "We've just arrived in Skyhold, and I don't think Adaar would take lightly to someone stealing from him when there are so many who are in need of them."
The mage had, upon his person, precious medicine, food and water when Bull caught him sneaking out of the castle hours ago in the middle of the night. Equipped with nothing but a pack containing rations and his staff, Bull had watched with interest from the dark corner of the tavern as the mage cloaked himself with magic and snuck past unsuspecting guards.
Considering that the Inquisitor had left at first light earlier in the day to search for Hawke's mysterious Grey Warden friend at Crestwood, Bull had figured whatever it was that Dorian had intended to pursue, the mage had taken advantage of Adaar's absence to do so.
Dorian stood before Bull, back straight and proud while the crystal on his staff glowed ominously in warning.
"It is none of your concern," Dorian said, his eyes locked onto the Qunari's, body tense and ready for flight. They stood like that for a few long seconds, eyes to eye, before Bull snarled, ducked his head and charged forward to take him down. "Kaffas!" the mage cried, eyes wide and arm rising to conjure another fiery ball from air.
Yet he was no match against sheer brute force. There was a fierce scuffle and a few balls of fire blazing in the night before Bull finally outmaneuvered the smaller man, pinning him to the ground. Face pressed against the dirt, and arms pinned behind his back, Dorian cursed and swore as he struggled before Bull wrapped an arm around his neck.
Bull squeezed, slowly cutting off the mage's air supply while Dorian clawed at him, gasping for air and nails raking red grooves upon the Qunari's arm, face and neck. One minute passed and Dorian slumped unconscious in Bull's arms.
"Sorry, big guy," Bull muttered, setting him gently down on the earth before rummaging around in his pack for ropes.
The dream changed, like a picture of winter transitioning into spring. The boy, now in his teens, was in the brothel in the slums of Minrathous. Head heavy with brandy, body hard and flushed with desire, he stood naked by the bed, watching two elves pleasuring each other.
The door to his room came open with a crash. It was Alexius. The boy raised an eyebrow at the look of disapproval presented before him.
"Ah, lads. We have company. Such a distinguished one too," he said, giggling as the elves regarded them with some alarm. Then, simpering, he staggered towards the newcomer, wrapping his slender arms around Alexius's neck.
"You can watch if you like," he slurred into the older man's ear, "Or join us. There's always room for one more."
Alexius stepped back, sighed and shook his head, tugging at the boy's earlobe. Not enough to hurt, but enough to chastise. The boy yelped in protest.
"You're coming home with me, Dorian. Right now."
Bull knew he was in for a hard time when Dorian came awake, and he was not wrong. Once Bull had safely hidden them both in an abandoned smuggler's cave, it was almost dawn when the mage began to regain consciousness before succumbing to fiery fits of temper.
Eyes flashing and teeth bared, Dorian had made his protests loudly known, going so far as to draw blood when his shiny, Tevinter-made boot connected with Bull's jaw with a resounding crack.
Still, Bull was patient, sitting cross-legged across the bound mage. He repeated his terms, expertly dodging further assault from the mage's flailing feet.
"Nope. You're telling me where you're heading off to, or I'm going to have to turn you over to Red," he explained, running a finger across his lip where a buckle from Dorian's boot had caught and tore his skin. Bull winced at the bloodstain on his fingertip before turning back to tend to his fire.
Dorian was livid. Bull had secured his hands behind his back with bits of rope – making sure his fingers were curled into fists so he could not even wriggle them to cast any spells. For such a brute of a man, Bull was surprisingly clever.
"Nug?" Bull politely asked, offering Dorian a piece of the creature that had been slowly cooking over fire.
"Release me!"
Bull shook his head, biting noisily into what looked like charred remains of nug feet.
Bloody savage.
Dorian wanted to hit him in his smug face.
"No can do, big guy. Not until you tell me who these supplies are for."
Dorian glanced at the phials of elfroot potion and small bundles of herbs that were laid out neatly before him. The damned beast must have removed all the content of Dorian's pack, meticulously keeping count of the items Dorian had pilfered from Skyhold.
"Some food. A little water. A bit of gold. Health potions to last a week, and medicinal herbs to make some more. Someone somewhere is injured. Who is it?"
The mage remained steadfastly silent.
"If you had intended to go back to Redcliffe, you should know the place has been emptied of Vints weeks ago," Bull continued, now thoughtfully sucking off the last bits of cooked flesh from bones.
"What makes you think I'm going to Redcliffe anyway?" Dorian snapped, struggling to sit up straight.
Bull shrugged, tossing bones picked clean into the corner of their cave.
"We're in the fucking Hinterlands. There is absolutely no reason for a Vint like you to be here unless you have some business at Redcliffe. Nothing around for miles otherwise."
Dorian sniffed derisively.
"And," Bull continued, his gaze growing hard while he pointed an accusatory finger in Dorian's direction, "if it is Redcliffe you're heading to, then we're going to have problems, you and I. Big problems."
"I don't know what you're talking about!"
Bull threw his hands up in exasperation.
"Dorian, you warned us of the dangers in Redcliffe. You told us the Venatori were trying to kill the Herald. And now you're carrying all these stolen potions to go back, possibly to find any Vint stragglers who didn't disappear with the Elder One… and what? Heal them? Tell me again how that is not treason?"
Dorian's eyes slid away, suddenly uncomfortable.
"Felix is not Venatori."
Short silence.
"Felix? Wasn't he Alexius's son? The one we met at the tavern? Why him?"
"He is a friend, and he's not well. I haven't heard anything from him. Not since we arrived in Skyhold."
Bull stared at him.
"If you knew him, you must know his father."
Dorian stared back.
"His father was my mentor."
Bull sighed, and run large, calloused hand over his face wearily.
"Dorian, are you trying to tell me you're working with Alexius as a spy for the Venatori?"
Another silence.
"If you're a spy, you're a shitty one. Just saying."
Bull muttered under his breath, making a show out of unpacking and re-packing his provisions.
Shit
"Why look for Felix and not Alexius?" Bull asked, shooting Dorian a sideways glance. Dorian looked pained.
"Because I know Alexius is dead."
A pause.
"How can you be so sure?"
Dorian laughed quietly, without real feelings. For a moment, he looked sad.
"I just am."