Chapter 12

Fitzwilliam was not looking forward to this particular conversation. He liked Leliana, even enjoyed visiting with her outside of Council meetings during these trips but… well, she was an excellent spy. He had no doubt that if there was some sinister story behind Feladara she would either find it or point him to it and that terrified him. Partly because, yes, he didn't want to lose his new friend but also because if Dorian was right and Feladara could not be trusted, Fitzwilliam had put them all in danger with his crush. That would gut him.

And, of course, there were other stresses left lingering from the earlier council meeting. The new rifts opening with increasing frequency, the southern nobles and their "concerns" regarding his choice to go to Tevinter…

So, perhaps he dragged his feet, taking each step at a glacial pace. Maybe he lingered to look at the sunlight shining into Dorian's currently empty but much loved alcove. And if he stood at the top of the stairs scratching at the heads of particularly affectionate ravens, well, that wasn't really going to hurt anything would it?

"I wasn't aware you missed the birds, Inquisitor." There was a smile in her voice that Fitz once worried had been lost to her harsh past. Thankfully, it had not. "Or perhaps they are merely a pleasant diversion."

Fitzwilliam looked up, meeting Leliana's approach with a sheepish smile - a child who had been caught out in their dallying. "Is it as obvious as that?" A nearby raven, plumage dark and shimmering with blues and purples, nipped his finger affectionately.

"You've always been a bit easy to read," Leliana laughed softly as she pulled up beside him. "You would have made a terrible spy." She reached out and the ravens flocked to her, several at once, to receive her attentions. "Speaking of, how goes your life as an assassin?"

He didn't bother to hide the wince her question prompted and she lifted a single eyebrow in inquiry. Fitz sighed. "I had a close call a few weeks ago. It's forced me to admit that, perhaps, I am not as skilled as I need to be."

Leliana's look of curiosity shifted to concern. Grabbing his sleeve she, tugged him toward her desk before pushing him into a chair. "What happened?" She leaned back, settling her backside on the edge of a missive-strewn table, and crossed her arms.

It was impossible to disguise the amused huff of laughter at Leli's mother-henning, but he dodged a smack she tried to level at him and told her… well, not everything. Not his complicated feelings for the assassin he knew as Feladra, he'd done plenty of that for one day, but enough. When he was done she was nodding, mind whirling with the information he provided. "You need to look into the elf," she said at last. "I agree with Dorian. His behavior is, at best, suspicious. At worst, dangerous."

"So you think I shouldn't let Feladara instruct me?" he couldn't keep the disappointment out of his voice. All these people warning him off, so contrary to his own instincts.

"Oh, of course you should," Leliana said. "If he's half as skilled as you've made him out to be you should be learning everything you can from him. I'm only advising caution. It's possible he was testing you with your last mission. A ploy to see if he could trust you when things went sideways. I'm just concerned. If that was his purpose he should have been more aware of you, checked you for injuries. Though, it is possible he just assumed you would be responsible and do it yourself." The glare she shot at him then was worthy of any matriarch and Fitzwilliam wilted under it as if his own mother had done the scolding.

"Trust me, Leliana," Fitz grumbled. "I have been well informed of how stupid I am. I will endeavor to be less wool-headed in the future."

"Good to hear." Leli's tone lightened now that she was assured her message had been received. "I'd be very cross if you vanished do to your own recklessness. And not just because the Inquisition needs you." It was enough of an admission of affection to quirk his lips into a lopsided smile as he looked up at her. "It would also reflect poorly on me as a teacher." Her playful teasing always made him feel as if the weight of his mantle had been lifted from his shoulders and he could just be Fitzwilliam. It was, admittedly, rarer with the spy mistress than many of his other companions, given her position as an advisor and member of the council, but they did sometimes find moments like these where they could be, well, friends.

But then he remembered her advice and his hands fell back into his lap, eyes following. He'd purposely not told her much about Feladara, and was reluctant to talk about it too much. If he didn't say something soon she was likely to poke at him about it. "Tell me more about the nobles."

Leliana laughed. "Oh no." She winked. "You're not getting out of it as easy as that. We'll talk about the nobles when we've settled this elf business. There's clearly more you aren't saying." Fitzwilliam sank down further into his chair. "Come now, Fitz. I can't offer the advice you're clearly seeking if you keep evading efforts to talk about things." Leliana toed at him from her perch against the table. It was the familiar, companionable tone of her voice and use of his name that broke his will to resist.

"I don't know how to investigate him, Lel." He sighed, straightening some and running his fingers through his hair for what already felt like the hundredth time that day. "He's much more skilled than I am, and well, I really don't have a lot to go on."

Silence hung between them while Leliana pondered what he'd said. "How much time do you spend with him?" she finally asked.

Shrugging, Fitz tried to figure it. "Well we've only been on a handful of jobs together," he said slowly. "Spent the hours after drinking at the tavern. But if he wants to continue the partnership after my long, abrupt absence, then I imagine we'll be working together a great deal." He furrowed his brow and waited for her to explain.

After another moment of consideration she bobbed her head. "You're good at reading people. Not good at lying or pretending," she laughed softly. "But you have a good idea of why people act the way they act. Can get to the heart of someone, reveal their motivations. Use that."

"Ugh." Fitzwilliam let his head fall over the back of the chair and groaned like a petulant child. "What does that even mean, Lel?"

"Get to know him, you idiot." His head shot up and he fixed her with what he considered to be a withering glare, but she just smirked in response. "I'm serious. Talk to him, ask him questions. You'll see when he's holding back, when he deflects, when he outright lies. I'm sure he's very good at all of those things. In fact, if you are to be believed, he's better than you are in most areas that would serve you well in an investigation. But this is your strength. You're good at seeing people for who they are, and that's a dangerous thing to level at a spy."

"I hadn't thought of it that way." Fitzwilliam pinched the bridge of his nose as he pondered. Leliana didn't have all the facts, and he wondered if he would be able to be objective given how he felt about the elf, but divorced of all that, it was still good advice. He did have a knack for reading people. If he treated this as a mission to learn about Fel, a way to feel him out as person instead someone with a sinister plot and hidden agendas, he might actually be able to learn something. He'd run himself in circles if he only focused on trying to prove the elf was as dangerous as everyone seemed to this he was.

Fitzwilliam stood. He got restless sitting there, talking, when he could be moving around, distracting his brain. And, after all, the rookery was well empty but for the two of them. He could see no reason why he ought not go about the rotunda. He made his way over the feed barrel and lifted the lid. They were clever, the ravens, and more than adept at hunting their own game, but with winter coming in the mountain it was getting more scarce.

He took a small handful of the offal pellets and began making the rounds, offering a piece to a bird and scratching its head before moving onto the next. Soon Leliana was at his side, though she did not join in his pastime.

"You're agitated." Her words sounded blunt but her smile appeared kind, if not slightly amused. "With so much weighing on your mind, I am not surprised. I think," She tapped a finger to her curved lips, eyes knowing. "That you've not shared all that's heavy in your thoughts."

"Do I ever?" Fitzwilliam laughed softly, pausing to give one especially affectionate raven leave to rub up against his hand. Likely a ploy to get more food, but cute none the less. "But the issues with the elf will not be solved by more talking."

"No?" Her tone was deceptively mild but he knew better than to throw out a tidbit so carelessly lest she latch onto it with determined triumph - carefully disguised though it may be. "And how will they be solved if your thoughts are too full of said elf to think of little else?"

"I hear magic is the answer to most things." He favored her with a sheepish smile. "But perhaps I've simply been too long in Minrathous. It seems to be the cause of, and solution to all of that city's problems."

"And will forever remain that way unless a drastic change befalls it and I'm honestly not sure the world is ready for another upheaval." She sighed, a flicker of weariness colouring her gaze for a moment, reminding Fitzwilliam he didn't have the monopoly on exhaustion. On heavy responsibility. He asked a lot of his Spymaster, after all. "But one problem at a time, yes? At least for now. I might not be able to currently assist you with your various other dilemmas but I think there's still yet more I can help with in regards to your elf."

"I don't know that I agree." Fitz handed another bit of food to the next bird. "But you're welcome to try." He would have to do something for Leli while he was visiting. Something to give her a break, something to decompress, to find joy in. She did seem to like pampering. Perhaps Dorian would have some ideas when next he spoke to his lover. "Everyone does seem to be saying more or less the same things. It would be nice to hear something new."

"Perhaps because they're looking at it all from vantage points far too close for true perspective." She seemed to study him for a moment, watching him feed the ravens with an assessing gaze that almost had him squirming. "And you're very good at saying a lot and very little at the same time. Despite how forthright you are. There is...something about the elf you've kept close to your chest and it's affecting you more than you're willing to let on." She held up her hand as Fitzwilliam began to speak. "I'm not asking you tell me. Just that I can see there is far more to this than others may realise."

His mouth snapped shut and he nodded. Maker, was that ever the truth. He considered what he could say to that, how much he could reveal and when he opened his mouth again he was surprised at what came out. "Have you ever been in love?"

She looked startled for a moment, before her expression smoothed out and all that remained was something old, something pained in the sudden shadows in her eyes. "I have." She nodded. "Once. A long time ago."

In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to hug his spymaster. He thought of all the reasons he shouldn't, of the risks of being too close with your advisors, and then, after careful consideration, he did what he always did.

The food landed in scatter on the rough wooden floor of the rookery as he dropped it to tug Leli close. He forgot how small she was. She had this way of holding herself that always made her feel bigger than everyone in the room. But right now, she tucked neatly against his chest and he pillowed his cheek atop her head.

"Oh," she breathed a soft note of surprise, holding herself slightly reserved in his arms as though she wasn't sure whether to break free from the embrace or lean into it. For the moment, she did neither. "I should know by now to expect such sudden displays of kindness from you but that was….unexpected."

"Sorry," he chuckled. "Just seemed like you could use a hug. I'll not do it again if you object. I did kind of violate your personal space here."

"If I objected, I think you'd find you'd have not gotten as far as you did." She chuckled, leaning a touch closer - just enough for Fitzwilliam to feel the tension drain from her posture though it didn't erase the distance she maintained between them - how she held herself apart from him. It was a friendly, though reserved embrace and one she still made no move to break free from.

"You know, I hear that a lot." He laughed softly again. It was easier to talk to her now, without that astute gaze boring into him. "I can't decide if that means I'm trustworthy or not much of a threat." A heavy sigh marked the tonal change. He was good at making light, but nothing would be resolved that way.

"I've been in love… well it's complicated. I thought I'd been in love until I met Dorian. And then those feelings felt so small, in comparison. Now that I have a more complete picture of love - of hard work and sacrifice and coexistence …" He'd started talking in an effort to make Leliana feel less like she had to talk about her own past, but now he wished he'd kept his thoughts to himself.

"Are you finding that your perceptions are changing, growing?" She murmured, voice soft and kind. "Or are you experiencing something else - the beginning stirrings of what might become a love just as potent but different?"

"You're too observant by half," Fitzwilliam grumbled. "You should consider being a spy. We're about to have an opening for a Spy Master in the Inquisition." He could feel Leli's small huff of amusement but she remained silent. Finally, he released her from the embrace. "I am drawn to Feladara in a way I cannot fully explain." The admission was hard, but he felt a bit of a weight lift with the words. "Inclined to place trust, to invest in him when reason says I shouldn't. To protect him above protecting myself. It's not compulsion, but it's strong."

"The heart is a strange creature and it does not always do what the mind tells it too." Lelli chuffed out a laugh, a sweet sound that spoke of just a hint of teasing as much as it did understanding. "But, I have learned, and have had reminded to me," she pulled away enough to pin Fitzwilliam with a shrewd but grateful look. "That the head doesn't always lead us true and the heart can sometimes understand what the head cannot."

"Did my master of spies just tell me to follow my heart?" Fitzwilliam's lips kicked up into a lopsided smile. "Am I in one of Varric's stories?"

"Oh hush." She extracted herself from his arms, eyes dancing with mirth. "Should I offer to have your elf discreetly taken care of? Ruin a few families reputations with cleverly gathered information while I'm in the area? Would that help right your world once more, Inquisitor?"

He laughed. A real laugh, loud enough to startle the birds into the dry leaf rustle of ruffled feathers. "No," he sighed, grinning. "I suppose it wouldn't."

"I could tell you what I believe you need to do about this elf," She watched her ravens take flight and retreat to the rafters, before favouring him with another of those sly smiles. "In fact, I already have. But the truth of the matter remains. You will know what to do when the time comes to do it. Do not let your head overrule your heart, but by the same token, do not let your heart ignore your head. Balance, Fitzwilliam. It will serve you as well in decision making as it does running the rooftops of Tevinter."

"You make it sound so easy." He huffed. Perhaps he acted the petulant child but honestly, with everyone expecting so much of him in regards to this investigation - none so more than he of himself - to seek that sense of balance felt impossible. "To use both my head and heart like they're not constantly in some idiotic battle with each other."

"Well, when all else fails." Oh that smile was more than a bit familiar, the small wicked curl of her lips so reminiscent of the elf they'd spent the last however long discussing he felt an ache for missing him. Maker, but there he went proving his own point. His heart seemed wildly out of control where Feladara was concerned. "There's always falling back on a discrete blade in the dark."

Fitzwilliam shook his head, smiling despite himself. "And should I need one, Spymaster, I know where to find it."

"Come then," she gestured back to her table where sheaves of paper waited. "Now you've finally spoken what you needed to on the elf, we can talk of nobles and strange rifts."

Her laughter at his low groan of distaste was, Fitzwilliam thought as he dragged his feet the entire way over to the headache he knew waited, entirely uncalled for. He'd seen more than enough paperwork for one day and yet, here was more. All with an impending political shitstorm looming in almost each and every page. Those that didn't contained headaches of a different kind - most likely the new and very strange rifts. Fitzwilliam despaired of leaving the rookery without at least another hundred things to contemplate and deal with. "Okay," he squared his shoulders and prepared for a different kind of battle. "Lay it on me, Leli."

She wasted no time, already retrieving the piles of missives from the table. "Which would you prefer? Nobles first or Rifts."

"Maker help me," he sighed. "It doesn't matter. Rifts, I suppose."

A brief shuffling of the papers in her hands before she held them out for Fitzwilliam to take. "These are all the reports we have currently on the new Rifts opening up all over Thedas. All report the same thing - an increased number of sightings of a strange silver-blue light of a similar form as the previous rifts but lacking in the severity of the tear and in the number of demons. There is the odd sighting of demons but those with any true understanding of the Fade mark the difference being in the increase of spirits instead." She paused for a moment and allowed Fitzwilliam to take in the information, which he did with a sharp bob of his head. The reports were familiar, easily recognisable from his own experience with the rift he and Dorian found on the outskirts of Minrathous. "The reports of sightings are only increasing in number but as yet there have been no casualties from demon attacks, no possessions. The appearance of the spirits seems mostly benevolent and they don't stray far from the site of the rift itself."

"It was the same at the rift Dorian and I dealt with." Fitzwilliam agreed. "They seemed little more than wisps. Curious but that was about the extent of it. It was…" He recalled how the rift had called on the mark far more than the previously, almost like it was hungry for that connection between the Fade and the magic in his palm. "...different. It pulled the magic from my hadnd more than I really had control over it. Like when I was first learning how to use the thing."

Leliana's concerned look did nothing to inspire ease. "Then you are suffering a similar issue to the mages and are experiencing a loss of control of the Mark?"

"Without the constant exposure to the rifts - the previous kind of rifts - I can't even say for certain how the mark normally behaves these days." He didn't like the thought of losing control over it. The very idea of that Ancient magic being uncontained once more sent a chill of foreboding sweeping through him.

"You did more than close rifts with the Mark, did you not?" Leliana leaned forward, gesturing to the palm in question. "You could summon Rift energy, create barriers, as well as opening and closing mini rifts of your own. Can you no longer do these things?"

Fitzwilliam's cheeks pinked. "I...haven't really tried? It's not like I have opportunity to whip off my glove and point the Mark at slavers in Minrathous. I most certainly can't make assassinations with it. Not without exposing myself."

"But you are not always in Tevinter, Fitzwilliam." Leliana reprimanded gently, not as his Spymaster Fitzwilliam knew, but as his instructor and his friend. It only inspired more of the pink to spread, head bowed in sheepishness. "When you are here in Skyhold it would serve you well to keep using the Mark, to note any changes in the abilities it affords you and any new ones that might eventuate. With magic in upheaval, you don't want to be taken by surprise should something change. Or, Maker forbid, go wrong."

"You're right." Fitzwilliam admitted. "I've been lax. I forget, sometimes, that even with the old Rifts closed, with Corypheus defeated that the magic of the Mark hasn't gone away. That just because I am unable to use it openly in Tevinter doesn't mean I shouldn't be using it at all."

"I am honestly surprised that one of these new Rifts has not opened somewhere close to Skyhold." Leliana moved on without further comment and Fitzwilliam really needed to do something for his Spymaster. She deserved more than just a chance to unwind for all that she did for him. For all her endless patience and guidance. And her gentle reprimands. "Perhaps it would be wise to take Iron Bull and Sera out to test the surrounding areas, see if the Mark has any reaction to any shifting magic."

"That...is a brilliant idea, Leliana." He made a mental note to discuss it with Bull and Sera in the morning. They'd not like the thought of going into a potentially 'uncontrollable exposure to the Fade' situation but they were people he trusted to be at his back in a way very few others were. And they would stand by him just as they always had. Mind ticking over with plans to do as Leliana suggested, it took a moment for something to click in his mind, draw his attention back to something she'd mentioned just previous. "What do you mean, you're surprised Skyhold hasn't yet seen a new Rift?"

"There is a pattern to the appearance of these rifts throughout Thedas." She inclined her head towards the papers in Fitzwilliam's hands and he studied them a moment as she continued. "They appear in areas that have seen significant events - usually of immense magical use or bloodshed but certainly not limited to only those according to the reports my agents send me. The largest of these rifts have appeared in areas of great historical significance." She turned and gestured to smaller version of the great map that rested on the council room table. "The Exalted Plains, The Emerald Graves, Kirkwall, Haven just to name a few. You are more than aware of what those locations have seen over the ages."

Fitzwilliam nodded, using the picture of the council room map with all its markers -left imprinted in his mind from hours pouring over it earlier in the day - to recall the locations and positions of the rifts reported so far.

"And if history is be believed, with all that Skyhold has seen, you're surprised it was not one of the first sites of the opening of these new rifts." He looked up and she nodded in confirmation. "Then it's even more important I examine our surroundings, see if the mark reacts to any particular places. If we can gain a greater sense of where these rifts are occurring, we might be able to work out why."

"My thoughts exactly." Leliana agreed. "Until then, we can only keep charting those that do appear and hope you can discover something yourself."

Fitzwilliam nodded. "Thank you, Leliana. I don't think I'd have picked up on the correlation between the rifts and the locations they're appearing in as quickly as you have."

"And that, Inquisitor, is why I am your Spymaster." She dipped her head in a cheeky little bow and pulled free a burble of laughter from Fitzwilliam's throat. "To send out my spies to gather information, to make meaning from it where you can't. We all have our skills."

"As always, I make a terrible spy?" Fitzwilliam said with a fond smile, enjoying the bell-like music of her laughter.

"But have a head for retaining the information you hear." Her eyes twinkled a moment before she held out the second bundle of missives in her hands. "And now, we must talk of the nobility."

Fitzwilliam groaned.

Fitzwilliam hadn't the time, upon his arrival through the Warren, to come to his quarters. He'd taken his notes right to the war room, then scuttled off to see Bull and Sera, then to Leli - hours spent pouring over endless missives of information gathered on the nobility of Thedas and now, finally, he could breathe. The fire was roaring when he entered his quarters, a plate of food awaited him on his desk, but it just felt colder without Dorian there to share it with him. He flexed his fingers, an attempt to drive off the ache the chill had instilled in them, made all the worse by the still-new flesh on his palm, and went to stand before the hearth.

So many things to consider, his head spun with them. The shifting opinion of the nobles, the worrisome tears in the fade spreading new rifts all over Thedas, the danger Dorian was in - increased by Fitzwilliam being here, unable to protect him. It all went on, too many things to process. And even with all of this in his head, he could not kick Feladara out of it. Felt pulled back to Tevinter by it as much as by his bond with Dorian.

Rubbing at his chest, Fitzwilliam winced. This far away the bond was little more than a vague impression of Dorian's location somewhere to the north. The point of a compass directing him back to the other half of his heart. He felt oddly empty without that background hum of awareness.

Great, he thought, cold and empty. This is going to be just a capital trip. And the pain, couldn't forget that. He worked his fingers again. The right palm he expected to ache, still healing as it was, but the left hurt too, a throbbing like a dull heartbeat. Maybe it was the abrupt shift in climate, messing with all his joints. He could feel it in his knees as well. Probably nothing to be concerned over. Still, he rubbed his hands together before moving to the food.

Only then, silence broken by a loud snore, did Fitzwilliam realize he wasn't alone. His eyes shot to the bed, located at the back, unlit end of the chambers. He could just see the glint of firelight on silver-dark skin and a soft smile curled his lips. He hadn't expected Bull to curl up in his bed and take a nap. It was entirely too adorable.

Fitzwilliam took the bread he was munching with him and approached the bed. His eyes adjusted well to the dim light and he took a moment to enjoy the view. The subtle shift of muscle as Iron Bull's breathing moved his body, the silhouette of him on laying on his side, drooling onto Dorian's pillow and cuddling… Maker. Was that one of the pink cushions from Sera's? A helpless peel of giggles finally woke the Qunari.

Now he wondered, as he often did, how Bull could sleep so soundly. Every spy he'd ever known slept on that edge just between slumber and waking, always alert and ready for danger. Bull, on the other hand, was dead to the world most of the time. He and Dorian had played more than one game of "what will the Qunari sleep through." Bull blinked up at him slowly, smiling as his good eye focused on the man at his bed side.

"Hey there, Boss," he mumbled. Fitzwilliam continued eating his bread though the giggles did not quite abate entirely.

"Did you bring this?" he asked, brandishing the heel.

Bull nodded, but still made no move to get up. "I ate earlier, figured you hadn't had a chance."

"Andraste." He sighed and moved to settle on the side of the bed. He had to push Bull with his backside to get him shove over enough to sit, but the effect was such that when he did, warmth curled around him. Fitzwilliam could feel himself relaxing instantly, leaning back into it. "Does everyone know I'm bad at eating or do you have orders from Dorian."

Bull let go of the fluffy pink cushion to wrap that arm around Fitz's waist instead. More warmth. Finally, the chill was being chased away. "Neither." His voice was still rough with sleep."I just paid attention. Figured with the way you run about there wasn't much time left for eating. Gotta assume Dorian takes care when you're in Tevinter. So it's my turn now, right?"

"I can take care of myself," Fitzwilliam grumbled through a mouthful. "I am not a child."

Rolling his eye, Bull jostled him with his thigh. "Don't act like one then." The reprimand came with an all too amused smile. "People caring about you isn't really a negative comment on your personality, Boss."

"I am effectively chagrined," Fitzwilliam smirked. "And thank you." He popped the last bit of bread in his mouth before making an attempt to lie down beside Bull. A single large hand cupping his shoulder halted him. He looked down with a quizzical lift of his brow.

"Did you eat anything but that heel of bread?" Bull asked. Fitz was sure he already knew the answer and those suspicions were confirmed when Bull grabbed him by his waist as he sat up, effectively putting him on his feet. "C'mon. We'll sit by the fire and you can shove your face."

Fitzwilliam grabbed the tray as he passed and arrived at the rug to see Bull sprawled across Qunari grinned up at him and pat the floor invitingly. He sat with his back against Bull once more and the tray on his lap. He'd expected them to launch into conversation, but Iron Bull remained quiet. A large hand wandered, rough fingertips brushing here and there as they pleased, but no words accompanied them.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Fitzwilliam broke the silence. "You really think Varric knows the smugglers Feladara is working with?"

"Been bugging you since I said it, huh?"

"As usual, you are far too astute." He shoved a few more pieces of dried fruit past his lips. "Just answer the question," the muttered around them.

"Makes sense." Fitzwilliam's body swayed under the movement of Bull's massive shoulder as he shrugged. "It's a small world, slave smuggling. And even with Varric's storytelling, a sultry lady pirate and and elf with glowing white tattoos … pretty distinctive. Thought you'd be happy to get some real information, though. Not... " he gestured wordlessly.

"I am." The sincerity of the claim was weakened some by his refusal to look at any spot which might even provide a cursory chance for Bull to catch his eye.

"Nah." Bull poked a finger into his side. "You're worried." Fitzwilliam remained silent and Bull threw his head back and let out a groan. "C'mon, Boss. You know I hate talkin' 'bout this stuff. Don't make it harder."

"We could just not talk about it then," Fitz grumbled, still refusing to look anywhere but at his lap.

"I'd be happy not to." The easy gentleness of Bull's voice was going hard around the edges as his frustration grew. "But I've got this little thing where I've gone and decided I care about you. Means doin' things I don't like doin'. Kinda shitty of you to make it hard on me when I'm trying to help, Fitz."

"I'm an arse," he sighed. He put the tray aside, his stomach roiling a bit now that he was thinking. "I just… I'm worried that Varric will have things to say that I don't want to hear. Plus," Fitzwilliam sighed, leaning back a little more snugly into Bull's warmth. "If he's right Dorian will be impossible to live with."

"More than usual?" He could hear the incredulity in Bull's voice.

He didn't try to stop the small giggle as he smiled sheepishly. "Perhaps just a different kind than usual."

"But you get why he's actin' like this, right?" Bull pushed the tray farther away before wrapping a thick arm around Fitzwilliam's waist… and ribcage. He shrugged again. "Jus' think back. When things between Dorian and I changed. When he and I became close."

Fitzwilliam remembered. He'd been more than a little surprised, actually. Given how they'd been at each other's throats for the longest time. Even the drunken advances Dorian had made toward Bull in the early days of their relationship made a kind of sense. But when Dorian came to him and explained he'd grown to have feelings for their mercenary friend it took a long talk, several long talks, to bring it into focus.

After he'd explained, Fitzwilliam understood how it could happen. With all the time they had been spending together to help Dorian work through some fears that still gave him pause, though thanks to Bull, no longer crippled him, it was easy to see. Those moments of vulnerability and tenderness eating away at their differences until they could only see how they were the same. He'd given Dorian his blessing, provided they all talked about it, established some guidelines to follow, and then kept talking to avoid hurt feelings or miscommunication.

But even with all of that… "I was protective of him. Worried you'd hurt him." Whispered words that left out more than they said.

Bull voiced them for him. "And you trusted me. We're friends. You still worried. Imagine how he must feel. A stranger takin' your eye like that. Someone you hardly know and he doesn't at all. How do ya think you'd deal with that?"

Probably not half as well, if he was honest. "It's not something I can help." He hated how small his voice sounded. "But I understand what you're trying to say."

"Not layin' blame here, Boss." Bull's thumb stroked lightly over where it rested on his hip. "Just think maybe you could stand a reminder of how hard it is..." Bull's voice trailed off and Fitzwilliam could tell he was well out of his comfort zone now. He tangled their fingers together and squeezed gently. "Protecting people you care about. That's a tough instinct to fight. It's why the Qunari don't have family or friends or spouses. Only the Qun."

"Are we still talking about Dorian?" Fitzwilliam tuned back, fixing Bull with a soft smile and was met by another shrug. If he didn't know better, he'd think Bull was blushing. "You know you're always welcome, Bull. He's been missing you."

Okay, well now he was blushing. There was no disguising that deep pink flush up his neck and across dark cheeks. "Know he's busy."

"Still, he needs you." It was much easier to talk about this than his continued fixation with the elf. "Might be too proud to say so, might be too busy to make the trip, but that doesn't change anything." He turned in the circle of Bulls arms until he had spread out alongside, propped up on his elbow.

"You know, I've been trying to do the things you asked me to do. For Dorian. Since you aren't able to be there all the time." He laughed a little, trying to take the conversation to more comfortable ground for both of them. "Not sure I'm cut out for it."

"Ya get in a fight or something?" Tension eased out of Bull's shoulders as he latched on to the new topic.

He shook his head. "Nothing like that. I just… don't enjoy it." Bull quirked an eyebrow and Fitzwilliam rushed to clarify. "It's not a sacrifice or anything, to do that for him. I'm happy to if that's what he needs. I just don't get the same pleasure out of it as…"

"When you're on the receiving end," Bull finished for him, his voice gone rough with desire. Fitz nodded, unable to look Bull in the eye. "Well," he pressed on, tucking a single thick finger under Fitzwilliam's chin and coxing his gaze upward. "I'll take over while I'm there. And you can get your pretty backside back to enjoying my attentions."

Breath hitching at the images that presented, Fitzwilliam attempted a smile. "I have missed your attentions." He recalled a time when he and Bull had a very different relationship. But with Dorian as their link, and many nights of friendly drinking and celebration, their dynamic too, had slowly shifted. He hoped Bull was happy with their arrangement. It reminded him of his conversation with Leliana, about the difference in feelings but not in the strength of them. While he and Dorian may share a soul, it didn't diminish either of their affection for Bull. For his part he knew he and Dorian were better off because of that affection, though he wasn't sure either of they would go so far as to call it love.

He didn't want Bull to leave, he realized. For all his talk of Bull being Dorian's grounding force, he'd come to rely on him as well. Fitzwilliam was worrying his lip when Bull laughed. It was a soft, enamored sound that most would not expect him capable of. "Just ask me to stay, Boss."

"Reading my mind again?" Fitzwilliam asked with a sheepish smile.

"No, your face. Written all over it. So?" Bull prompted. He was never willing to act on assumption, always demanding to hear it from Fitzwilliams lips even when, perhaps especially when, it was hard for him to say.

"Will you please stay the night?" It was a mumbled, hardly audible question.

"Just tonight?"

Glowering up at him, Fitzwilliam sighed dramatically. "Fine. I would like you to stay with me until we leave. Are you satisfied now?"

"Nope," Bull smirked, leering as he put a hand on Fitzwilliam's shoulder and rolled him onto his back pinning him with one large, muscular thigh. "But I'm about to be."

AUTHORS' NOTE:

E: Sooooooo remember when we said we'd post more regularly? We totally meant starting from this chapter *nods*

R: Oh, yes definitely that was the plan alllll along. *rubs back of neck*

E: Heeee, yes well. In this chapter you got to see a bit clearer picture of how things work with Bull and the boys as well as how amazing Leli is ;) And coming up there's going to be a whooooole lot of plot and intrigue. And more Fitz getting confused about a certain elf *smirks*

R: Heh. Confused, she says. These poor boys, being pulled this way and that by forces bigger and more powerful than they. Some of which we'll get to see soon. So soon. *bounces excitedly*

E: I am so ready for you all to read the upcoming chapters *grins* We're going to take you on one hell of a journey with these boys and everything that's going to happen.

R: If we get them done in a timely matter. I… have some smut to write. And more antics with the Skyhold gang before we get Fitzwilliam back home.

E: And I've got a lot of magical things to write and a Dorian to shake up *smirks* Oh this is going to be fun.

R: I hope they are having as much fun as we are!

E: Not sure that's possible ;)

R: You're gross. *pokes* Okay, okay, we should be done with this now, go work on the next chapters! Thanks for reading, darlings!

E: Yes, thank you for reading everyone! You're wonderful :)