Dragon Age is not mine and I make no money from this.

"Pain and Pleasure, like Light and Darkness, Succeed Each Other." - Laurence Sterne

There were times, Dorian mused as he shivered by the campfire, that his life seemed to be an endless cycle of pain and pleasure; one pleasure finished and so pain began, then when the pain was overcome, he found pleasure again.

It was clear he had hit the pain period of this cycle though. The Tevinter felt his teeth chatter. He bloody hated the southern climes. He scowled as he watched a snowflake drift down in a lazy circle; it was too cold. Beside him, Bull was cleaning his axe, the strong movements causing his muscles to move delightfully beneath the skin.

"Do you need me to look at your arm?" Lavellan asked, her large eyes peering deep into his own.

"I need to wash it first." He grumbled, not looking forward to having to undress enough for that.

"Need some help with that?" Bull asked, his attention caught by the idea of undressing Dorian, no doubt.

"No, I do not." Dorian glared, but stood up and headed over to a smaller fire, which had a pan of snow melting in it.

He hissed as he struggled with the buckles, silently cursing the style. He looked fantastic in his clothing, but it wasn't loose enough to remove without bothering his wounded arm.

"Why? Why is it leaving? Why can't I use healing magic anymore? Was I simply too inept at it?"

"Shut up Cole." Grumbled Dorian, though there was no bite to his words.

"I came to help." The young man replied, stepping forward to help Dorian out of his shirt.

"Thank you." The mage sighed, not thrilled that Cole had ignored his claim that he didn't need help, but knowing the boy could see deeper than words.

"Is healing magic really disappearing?" he asked, eyes focussed on the jagged tear in Dorian's arm.

"You'd have to ask Vivienne to be sure, but I suspect so." He wondered if magic really was fading, if one day even Tevinter would have to rely on the soporati to run smoothly… not that it didn't to a certain extent now, of course, but perhaps one day the soporati would be valued despite their lack of magical talent.

"They aren't so bad. Long, brown hair, an easy grin but sad eyes… the eyes in them are always the same."

"Cole…"

"I'm sorry."

Then Cole pressed the alcohol doused cloth against his wound. Dorian hissed and curled in slightly, though his arm remained outstretched in Cole's surprisingly strong grasp.

"Oh, there is something in here." Cole voice was curious, and Dorian glanced at his arm.

The flesh had turned a strange, almost blue colour and the mage wondered if there had been some poison on the rock he had injured himself on.

"That'll be from the moss." Bull's voice cut through his thoughts. "I've got it now kid."

Cole nodded and drifted off, but Dorian kept his focus on his arm. It was disgusting and churned his stomach, but the Iron Bull unnerved him in an entirely different way.

"Cold?" Bull asked as he sat beside the mage, his large body radiating heat.

"Do I even need to answer that?" he snapped, glaring unhappily over at the Qunari.

Bull smiled fondly at him, but didn't reply. Instead, he pulled an injury kit out of his ridiculous trousers and spread the paste onto the wound. Dorian tried to keep his glare up, but as the large man began to carefully wind the bandage around his skin, the mange sighed and slumped forwards to rest against him.

The Qunari ruffled his hair as he moved away, but Dorian simply frowned though his yawn and shuffled slowly over to his tent.

It was several hours later that the Iron Bull woke up to hear crying coming from outside his tent. He extracted himself from the flimsy structure, angling his horns so he didn't take the material with him and looked out. By the campfire, Dorian was on his knees, curled forwards and sobbing softly. Bull didn't hesitate, didn't worry that Dorian might prefer to be left alone and didn't think of waking anyone else. He headed over, dropped to the ground and pulled the mage into his lap.

Dorian didn't object. He simply pressed his face into Bull's neck, but his arms stayed in front of him.

"You shouldn't do that." Bull pointed out, forcing Dorian's hand away from his injured arm.

"Hurts!" he gasped, his kohl-streaked face visible for a moment, before it was once more hidden in Bull's neck.

"Still shouldn't do that. Just leave the paste to do its job and get rid of that poison."

In response, Dorian slid his hand up to grip at Bull's harness. Bull shifted into as comfortable a position as he could manage while Dorian clung to him and took up the rest of the man's watch. He was in no state to keep an eye out after all.

"It'll ease up, Dorian. Just wait it out."

"Never ending cycle of pain and pleasure, right?" the mage asked, his limbs trembling.

"Sure, if you like. I'll help in the pleasure part later on."

Dorian snorted, before gasping again, a whimper escaping past his lips.