Bull and Mahanon have their first true disagreement.

Krem was standing guard outside the Inquisitor's door when he heard it. Coughing and a faint, barely heard thud. He exchanged a glance with Skinner, then said, "Stay here," before slipping through the doorway, closing it behind him. He knew what Skinner thought, she would be suspicious of another attack, but Krem had a more troubling concern. Lavellan had seemed pale when he returned to Skyhold and the Chief had been positively secretive, going off on his own to do who knew what. If it weren't for the fact that they still spent every night sharing a bed, Krem would have thought they had had a spat about something.

Hearing more coughing, Krem hurried around the corner to see Mahanon on the ground, trying to pull himself towards the final stairs to his room.

"Vishante kafas," Krem muttered and he turned and ran quickly to the door, poking his head out it. "Go get the Chief, now. Tell him the Inquisitor needs him."

Skinner gave a nod and hurried off while Krem returned to Mahanon. He had reached the bottom stair now and was stubbornly trying to pull himself upwards. Hearing Krem approach he turned to look, his eyes wide with fear at either being caught out or with what was happening. Perhaps both.

"Easy Lavellan," Krem said, his hands out placatingly. "I'm gonna pick you up and bring you to your room, all right?"

A nod was all Mahanon could manage between the coughing but that was enough and Krem slipped his arms beneath his knees and shoulders, lifting him easily. He seemed lighter than he had the night they had raided the dragon's head, but perhaps that was just Krem imagining the worst he thought as he climbed the stairs.

Laying Mahanon down on the bed, Krem asked, "Where's your potion?"

Mahanon pointed towards a doorway and Krem moved to open it, finding little other than a ladder inside. Climbing it brought him up to the mezzanine above bed. Here Mahanon had set up a table used with alchemy and all manner of herbs. And there on a table were two bottles of the potion, surrounded by countless empty ones. Taking them both, Krem climbed back downstairs and, with one hand cupped beneath Mahanon's head, helped him drink done, the Inquisitor lay back on the pillows panting but the relief only lasted perhaps a minute or two before the coughing began again.

It was at that moment that Krem heard a distinctive growl coming from down the stairs; it seemed Bull had spotted the blood on the wooden floor.

"Bull..." Mahanon gasped.

With a nod to Krem as he moved out of the way, Bull took his place by the Inquisitor's bedside, a clank sounding as a bag he was carrying was dropped when he instead took Mahanon's hand in his own and used a cloth to wipe the blood from his mouth.

"I gave him a potion but it didn't really seem to do anything," Krem said. "There's only that one left that's already made up."

"No, they've stopped working. Probably why he hasn't bothered to make any more," Bull replied, not taking his eyes off the struggling elf. "Get a fire going, I've got something else we can try."

Krem didn't miss the light of hope in Mahanon's eyes hearing that as he went to do as he was bid, first closing the glass balcony doors then lighting the hearth. Krem suspected that as much as the Inquisitor had been light hearted and joking lately it was just a cover, hiding how scared the whole situation was making him. Probably why he had been skating down hills in the first place as well even if it had ended with him breaking his arm, a fact the elf had just laughed off when telling the Chargers about it.

"Done," Krem said once the fire was burning well.

"Good," Bull said. "You should probably go back downstairs, make it seem like nothing's going on. Tell Skinner…" Bull sighed. "Actually I don't care what you tell her, just make sure the two of you allow no one else up here for the rest of the night."

"Will do, Chief," Krem said. Catching the pleading expression Mahanon shot his way, Krem gave him a reassuring nod. He would not betray the Inquisitor's secret.

Seeing Krem's nod to him Mahanon would have breathed a sigh of relief if he had the breath to do so. He still wasn't pleased that Bull had told his lieutenant but at least Krem had proved his word to him and told no one else.

After Krem left, Bull picked up the bag he had dropped and took out what was in it: a copper incense burner and a leather pouch likely with dried herbs in it. Mahanon sat up and watched as he went to the fireplace and used the tongs on the hearth to pull out a couple burning embers and drop them in the burner. Adding some of the herbs from the pouch, he then snapped the lid shut and carried it over. Already an acrid smelling smoke was wafting from the decorative holes.

Bull put the burner on the bed in front of him then ducked into the bathroom, emerging with a towel.

"Lean forward over it. Don't worry, I've got you," Bull said, his forearm across Mahanon's chest, holding him in much the same way he had their first night together. Bent over the burner, Mahanon's nose crinkled smelling the smoke; it smelled of burnt hair and glue, he thought. And tasted worse, he realised, when he sucked in a breath to cough and his mouth filled with it. It did seem to still some of the spasms though. Bull draped the towel over his head and the air trapped between it and the bed soon filled with the stuff. The light was dim but the smoke hurt his eyes anyway so Mahanon closed them and focussed solely on breathing. The heaving coughs dwindled to a tickle and then eased entirely. The wheezing lingered longer but eventually that faded as well.

"Thank the Creators," he whispered to himself as he was finally able to breath normally. His chest still burned as though there were a fire in his lungs and his limbs felt heavy and exhausted but at least he could breath without choking.

Sitting back away from Bull's supportive arm, Mahanon lifted the towel and just let it drape around his neck. Bull was already moving to the sideboard and pouring a glass of water. Handing it over, Mahanon gave a weary smile in thanks as he took it and sipped it. It didn't really help to get rid of the blood and acrid smoke taste but it did sooth his throat.

"So how did you find this?" he asked when he had finished the glass.

"I asked around."

Mahanon's stomach dropped and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Who did you ask?" He tried to keep the suspicion from his voice but wasn't sure exactly how well he succeeded.

"Anyone who'd listen. Apparently a Qunari asking about healing and herbs is rare enough that it's often taken as a joke. Or they mistakenly think I want 'special' herbs." He paused, perhaps expecting a laugh or a comment. When he got none, he continued, "These particular herbs were Dorian's idea."

"Dorain? The Vint, Dorian?" Mahanon demanded. Surely he had misheard; of all the people to tell, surely Bull couldn't have told the one person Mahanon absolutely couldn't stand.

"Yes. He's a skilled mage, he-"

"I ask only that you tell no one!" Mahanon cut in; he didn't want to hear it! "You told Krem already and that's bad enough, don't think I've forgotten that, but at least Krem's a friend. And now you tell that Vint?"

"He's a good man," Bull growled.

"He is nota good man! He cares about Dorian, Tevinter, and oh yeah, Dorain. And you told him the one thing I needkept secret! You know what? Leave! Get out! Katoh, I don't want to see you right now! Fucking get out!"

The shouting caused Mahanon to start coughing again. Bull came closer, his face creased with concern but Mahanon simply pushed him away. "Get out!"

Bull hesitated a moment and looked as though he was about to say something, but then he turned and left, shoulders slumped.

Mahanon moved the still smouldering incense burner from his bed and slammed it down on the bedside table. As he did so the dragon's tooth necklace he wore about his neck swung into his view. He had not removed it since he first put it there but now, with a growl, he reached up, grabbed hold of it, and yanked, the clasp coming loose with a snap. He rose his fist to throw it, to smash it against a wall, but then paused, hesitating.

Slowly, Mahanon lowered his arm, teeth clenched and eyes closed against the tears that insisted on welling. It was all just too hard. His own illness, his clan's apparent inescapable fate, Corypheus and his allies, Bull's betrayal, all of it. He wanted nothing more than to escape it all so he did the only thing he could do: laid down, curled around the dragon's tooth and the pain in his chest, and slept, the smoke from the incense burner wafting towards him, allowing him to breathe.

The following few days proved to be a blessing to his advisers as Mahanon threw himself into the work around Skyhold he had been neglecting since they arrived. Dignitaries were met, treaties discussed, scout reports read, troop movements planned, and judgements carried out. They were pleased enough that when he did disappear for an hour or two each day, no one questioned it.

Mahanon used the burner at night in his room as he slept but he had also procured a second burner, one he hid in a disused room beneath Skyhold. There were entire halls down there that were used for nothing but storage and being underground meant there were no windows for the smoke to escape from. The potions he had been able to mostly hide in plain sight up on his mezzanine; at a glance it looked like any other alchemy bench and he had requested the servants not to go up there lest something be displaced or accidentally contaminated. But smoke would not be so easy to hide so he pretended that he used it to help him sleep and had hidden a stash away down under Skyhold for him to escape to during the day.

Bull he avoided. He saw him sometimes but always at a distance when he was either watching the Inquisition soldiers train or training with his own Chargers. He didn't go down to the tavern where the Qunari spent most of his time and he didn't seek him out in his room. Bull, for his part, seemed willing to give him space, though Mahanon thought he always seemed to be watching whenever Mahanon was passing judgement on someone or walked the battlements with Cullen.

Dorian seemed to know that he was the cause behind this rift (or perhaps Bull had told him since they were so buddy buddy now, Mahanon thought viciously) and made himself even more scarce than normal. Mahanon tried to tell himself he didn't care but even he knew that that was only what he wanted to feel.

He had stopped wearing the dragon's tooth necklace but neither could he bring himself to go completely without it. He kept it in a belt pouch, out of sight out of mind, but still not just lying around.

Mahanon led the elven healer who had been seeing to his arm through the doors to his chambers. Hearing someone following, he glanced behind him and frowned when he saw Krem trailing behind, leaving Dalish behind to guard the door. He ignored him for now, not wanting to make a scene in front of the healer.

Krem leaned against the railing, arms and legs crossed while Mahanon and the healer sat across from each other. The bandaging was removed and the healer moved his wrist this way and that, pressing against where the break occurred (that caused Mahanon to wince a little), and finally summoning some of her healing magic to ease it.

"This is healing well," she said as she redid the bandages, forgoing the splints now. "Keep strapping it for another week and then it should be fine."

"Thank you," Mahanon said.

The healer nodded to him then took her leave. Krem did not.

Sighing, Mahanon looked pointedly at Krem; he would not be able to avoid whatever he had to say so best get on with it.

"What did you do?"

Straight to the point then. Mahanon didn't need to ask what he was talking about, knew Bull had been spending his time in the tavern drinking. He had heard from a concerned Cullen how he would joke and laugh with his men but then fall into staring silences, his mind clearly elsewhere. And of course Krem would assume that it was entirely Mahanon's fault!

"Me? I didn't do anything!" Mahanon snapped. "He's the one who's been spreading my secrets far and wide!"

"Telling me is hardly far and wide and I have told no one."

"Telling you was bad enough but at least we're friends and I can trust you. Clearly more than I can trust him. But to tell that Vint, Dorian? Plus whoever else he might have blabbed to without even a thought as to my wishes on the matter!"

"You think he didn't agonize over this?"

"He might have agonized but he clearly came to the wrong decision!"

"So it was the wrong decision to want to try to save your life?" Krem hissed, his dark eyes flashing angrily.

"It was the wrong decision to do it when I explicitly asked him not to, when I trusted him not to." Mahanon gritted his teeth and tried to calm his breathing. The last thing he needed was to trigger more coughing merely because he got worked up in an argument. "If that's all you have to say then I suggest you leave as well."

"He still wears the dragon tooth, you know," Krem said quietly.

Mahanon looked away, blinking furiously, his hand going to the pouch where he kept his without thought.

Krem sighed and walked over to the closed balcony glass doors staring out of them. "I didn't come here to yell at you," he said, his voice sounding weary.

"Sure didn't sound like that," Mahanon said, and Krem turned enough that Mahanon could see the small twitch of a smile. "So what didyou come here for then?"

"To get you to talk to Dorian."

"What? You-"

"Hear me out," Krem said turning and half raising a hand to get Mahanon to stop. That wasn't what he had expected at all; he had thought it would be to get him to make things up with Bull, or to talk to Bull. He didn't think Krem would bring Dorian into this. "I know you don't like him, and I remember you telling me how Teventer slavers had killed your lover, Faerel." He had? As if seeing his confused look, Krem gave a tight smile. "You were drunk at the time."

"Of course I was," Mahanon muttered, looking away. Still, even when drunk he knew he didn't speak of such things unless he was comfortable. Perhaps it had been the last time it was just Krem and him when they were working on Bull's dress.

"Anyway, I know you have plenty reasons to hate them, hate us. And yet, despite that, you don't hate me. Why?"

"You're not really Tevene." Krem rose an eyebrow at that. "What I mean is, yes sometimes I can hear it in your accent, and you swear in Tevene but apart from that I wouldn't even know it. You don't go on and on and on about it so I guess I can just… forget. Dorian... he doesn't stop! If he's not talking about himself, which is rare, then he's talking about how wonderful Tevinter is. If it's so wonderful, why doesn't he go back there?"

"Because he can't, the same as I can't."

"He's biologically female too? The moustache is a fake?"

Krem gave a short laugh. "No, he is biologically male," he said. "But more than that I won't say as it's his business who he tells."

"Why are you pushing this?" Mahanon asked suspiciously. "You haven't cared previously what I thought of him."

"Because there is a wedge between you and the Chief and it's tearing you both apart. He gave up the comfort of the Qun for you. This split is affecting moral not just of the Chargers to see their two bosses like this, but even the other Inquisition soldiers, men and women who laughed with you when you were avoiding dancing lessons, who stood with you at Adamant, who walked through the mountains from Haven with you. That the two of you, a qunari mercenary and an elven hunter, could not only find comfort in each other but love as well through all that we've been through, it gave hope to a lot of people without any. And talking to Dorian, keeping an open mind, might allow that rift to start to heal. That's all I have to say."

True to his word, Krem took his leave after that, leaving Mahanon to sit by the fire, staring into the flames, mulling over what was said and what was not said.